#sir. The headsman is waiting. Good. Let's get this over with! Shor | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cheeseandstrawberrytartlover · 2 years

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Their first day on Nirn

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

Their head was ringing while she had her eyes closed. Her body was moving, but not on her own accord.

What happened? The back of their head ached and they tried to reach, but her hands were bound.

Once she opened her eyes, they ached at the sun light and saw past her wild, red hair that her hands were bound with simple and rough rope.

Hate filled her stomach. How dare someone-

"She is awake."

They moved her hands a bit before looking up. She was on a carriage... and even worse... with humans. They clenched their teeth.

"Hey, girl. You're finally awake, are you? You tried crossing the border, right? Well, welcome. You fell right into the ambush of the imperials like that damn thief there."

Sereyna felt the urge to bite something out of frustration. Damn the humans and their stupid politics. She only wanted to go to Cyrodiil, but that was not happening, apparently!

The only brown-haired nord cussed, "Damn you stormcloaks! Skyrim was fine until you came along! If you wouldn't have been there, then I could have stolen that horse and been on my way to Hammerfell! Me and that girl! We do not belong here-"

The blonde nord chuckled at his frustration, "Well, we're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief."

The imperial soldier, that was sitting on the carriage horse, hit the wood of the carriage.

"SHUT UP BACK THERE!"

Sereyna's eyes wandered to her right only to see a gagged man. She rolled her eyes. The murderer of the High King.

"And what's wrong with him?"

"Watch your damned tongue, thief! You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak! The true High King of Skyrim!"

She couldn't help but laugh at the miserable sight.

"Ulfric?! But if... oh by the gods, where are they bringing us?!"

"I do not know where we're going, but Sovngarde awaits."

The thief's face was contorted with fear.

The blonde stormcloak side-eyed him.

"Hey, what village are you from, horse thief?"

"Why do you care?!"

The stormcloak sighed in frustration of the thief not knowing nord tradition, "Because a Nord's last thoughts should be of their home."

A silly tradition. Their part of the Dreamsleeve would look like home anyways.

An imperial soldier called out, "General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting!"

A typical sounding imperial voice answered, "Good. Let us get this over with."

"Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh.... Divines, please help me," the thief prayed.

Sereyna chuckled, "Even they... especially they cannot help you here now."

The nord grunted, "Look at him, General Tullius the Military Governor... and it looks like the thalmor are with him. Darn elves! I bet they had something to do with this," he paused momentarily, "This is Helgen... I used to know a girl from here. Funny... as a boy, Imperial walls and towers made me feel so safe."

Sereyna looked at the gate and smiled at the nostalgia of the nord.

"If you wouldn't have become a stormcloak, then maybe you could have married her," Sereyna's eyes peeked out of the messy, curly hair and into the depths of his memory, "But you had to fight a war you couldn't win."

The nord startled at the multi-colored eyes that felt like nails being hammered into his mind.

Sereyna looked at the houses and the people still remaining outside. Her face was still covered by her hair.

A boy spoke up, "Who are they, daddy? Where are they going?"

The father reacted immediately and took him inside, "You need to go inside, little cub."

The boy protested, "But why? I want to watch the soldiers!"

"Inside the house. Now."

The demiprince looked back at the floor of the carriage and after little time, the carriage stopped.

The imperial soldier hit the wood of the carriage once more, "End of the line."

Everyone started to get off.

The thief started to beg, "No! I am no stormcloak!"

Another imperial soldier read the names aloud, "Ulfric Stormcloak, Ralof of Riverwood, Lokir of Rorikstead-"

"No, I am not a stormcloak! You cannot do this!"

The imperial soldier looked at him with sympathy.

"I am sorry, Lokir... it says your name on the list."

Suddenly the horse thief started sprinting back towards the gate. The captain behind the imperial soldier yelled, "Archers!"

And once Lokir was far enough, he was shot in the back, falling over. Presumably dead.

The imperial soldier with the list frowned and tightly held the quill.

"Show me your face and give me your name, please."

Sereyna flipped her hair to reveal her face.... and her horns.

The name writer looked on with surprise and struggled to speak, "N-name?"

She smiled.

"Sereyna Valtieri."

The imperial turned to the captain.

"She is not on the list, Captain!"

"She goes to the block."

"I am sorry, your remains will be delivered to... where?"

"Cyrodiil."

"Yes, of course. An imperial. Yes, your- your remains will be brought to Cyrodiil."

Sereyna raised her head, nodded and walked over to the block. She stopped behind Ralof and could barely look over his shoulders.

"Ulfric Stormcloak. Some may call you a hero, but a hero does not murder his High King to gain the control over a land that is not his to rule. You started this war and run Skyrim into chaos! Now the empire is going to put you down and restore the peace-"

General Tullius' speech was interrupted by an abnormal screech that even Sereyna could not identify. All of them looked up into the sky. Sereyna lowered her eyebrows as she felt something starting to burn inside her chest.

"What was that?"

"Nothing. It's nothing! Carry on!"

"Yes, general Tullius! Give them their last rights!"

The priestess raised her arms and exclaimed, "As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the eight divines upon you-"

The stormcloak closest to the block protested, "For the love of Talos! Let us get this over with!"

"As you wish," The priestess remarked.

The stormcloak voluntarily walked over the the block to Sereyna's surprise. The captain pushed him to the block with her boot.

"My ancestors are smiling upon me. Can your ancestors say the same, imperials?"

The crowd looked away as the headsman decapitated the stormcloak. Sereyna watched, though. She saw how his body slumped without its head and the captain pushed the body aside with her boot.

"You imperial bastards!" was the yell of the only female stormcloak.

"Justice!"

"Death to the stormcloaks!"

Ralof mourned, "As fearless in death as he was in life..."

Sereyna looked at him.

"Next! The girl with the horns!"

She smiled as she walked past Ralof and over to the block, but stopped as everyone heard another screech.

"There it is again. Did you hear that?"

"I said - Next prisoner!"

"To the block, prisoner... come on. Nice and easy."

The demiprince got on her knees and she felt how the captain put her foot on her back to push her down further.

Ugh, humans. She thought while looking up at the headsman with his axe. Her face touched the blood of the previous executioned. She mockingly smiled at him as he raised his axe.

Suddenly she saw a black figure in the distance. A black figure with wings. She lowered her eyebrows.

"What in Oblivion is that?!"

General Tullius called out before the black dragon landed on the watch tower next to the execution spot. The entire earth shook, throwing most people to the ground already. It roared once and the sky turned orange, as rocks fell from the sky and threatened to crush anyone not shielded by a roof.

Dragons had not been seen in centuries, no... eras! She looked into the black dragons eyes for a moment... her eyes lit up! A half sibling. It belowed again before starting to take flight.

"Hey, you! Weird girl! This way! Come on!"

The demiprince was grabbed by the shoulders only to be dragged into a nearby tower as she watched her half sibling fly over Helgen.

"Let me go!!!" Sereyna yelled before biting the hand that was pulling her.

"Agh! You little beast! Ulfric! What is that thing?! Could the legends be true?!"

"Legends do not burn down villages. We need to move now!"

"Up through the roof! Let's go!"

Ralof grabbed Sereyna by her arm and walked with her to the roof.

Suddenly the black dragon crashed its head through the stone wall and spewed fire at everything that his head could reach. It didn't take long for him to notice her. She could see her reflection in his eyes as he watched her. He was calling to her, but before he did anything... He flew off.

"You've got to jump, girl! Jump through the roof and keep going!"

The demiprince looked down fearfully. That was pretty high up. Sereyna momentarily closed her eyes, took a deep breath and jumped only to land on her knees. She yelled out in pain but kept going.

She jumped down next to a burning house. There was that imperial soldier again. He talked the boy she had heard earlier

"Don't look up! Look at me! Come here! Hamming, you need to get over here! Now!"

His father was lying on the floor, in pain.

"That's it, boy! Make me proud-"

The dragon landed behind the father and spewed massive flames. The imperial soldier grabbed and shielded the boy by the building to Sereyna's intrigue.

They made eye contact.

"Still alive prisoner?! Keep close to me if you want to stay that way! Gunnar, take care of the boy! I need to catch up to General Tullius' defenses!"

The dragon watched them from the sky.

Sereyna grabbed the imperial soldier's shoulder and they continued to run. This time close to a wall which was taken as an opportunity by the dragon.

The demiprince grabbed onto the imperial soldier tightly and pulled him backwards as the dragon landed on top on the stone wall and spat more fire.

There were maybe forty imperial soldiers in front of them. All firing at the dragon with all they got.

He caused more havoc, now with an invisible force from his throat, he threw a few soldiers off their feet. An invisible force which was not fire... it was a shout. A shout she couldn't understand.

Finally they arrived at the building only for them to meet Ralof again.

"Ralof, you traitor! Out of my way," the imperial soldier yelled.

"We are escaping, Hadvar! You are not stopping us this time!"

Hadvar lowered his eyebrows, "Fine! I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde!"

"Come on!"

"Into the keep!"

Both ran towards the building and Sereyna hesitated, but followed Hadvar. She shut the door behind them.

The imperial soldier looked around and stated, "We have to find weapons for you. Maybe a sword. Take a look around. Wait-"

Hadvar turned to Sereyna.

"Let me get those bonds for you."

He slowly got closer and she took a step back.

"I want to cut the rope, may I?"

Hadvar showed her the dagger he was holding in his hand and she watched as he got her free.

"See? You're welcome. My name is Hadvar."

"You already know my name."

"Y-yes, of course-"

The demiprince walked by the stunned imperial soldier and started to take everything that had value. Eventually equipping a blunt, iron sword. Not her preferred weapon, but it shall do. She decided to keep one hand free for spells.

Hadvar walked over to the gate that led to the tunnels, at least that was what Sereyna was guessing. He pulled a lever and it opened the gate. Sereyna could hear people in the next room.

She opened the gate that seperated the tunnel from the room and started to burn the two stormcloaks that were sitting at a table. The soldier got a few hits in until they were dead.

"Okay, we- What are you doing?"

Sereyna did not care for Hadvar and his stupid empire, but she just allied with him, so the stormcloaks are currently the enemies. She was undressing and putting on the stormcloak armor. The stone flooring was cold, so she tried not to stand on it with her bare feet for too long.

She turned to one of the dead bodies and started to memorize their facial features, muttering to themself.

"Oh- do not feel sorry for them! They tried to attack us."

"I am not."

The demiprince continued to walk into the tunnel with Hadvar on her side. The brown-haired nord could barely believe his eyes as Sereyna's hair got shorter and more straight than curly. After a few seconds, it even changed color. Hadvar felt like he was going insane.

"Uhm, Sereyna?"

"Yes?"

She turned around as they were walking down the stairs.

Her freckles! Her eyes! What- what happened?! They're all changed. She looked more like a-

Sereyna placed a finger on her lips and shushed him. Hadvar was shocked and terrified, but continued to follow her.

Without a warning, the tunnel crashed in before them. They had to take a detour.

Only now, Sereyna heard people talking. It was her time to shine.

"Hadvar?"

Hadvar looked at her only to also see her horns being gone.

"Stay here for a second."

Strutting into the room, she exclaimed with a nordic accent, "Fellow nords! Good to see you!"

"Erika? Weren't you supposed to find Ralof?"

Sereyna had to make something up, but she didn't.

"We found him dead before he entered the building."

"That's awful..."

The Erika imposter inched closer to them. They were planning to strike.

"But where is-"

She stabbed the first one in the throat with her dull sword and then plunged an axe into the other one's head. Both fell over dead once she let go of both weapons.

Sereyna was slowly turning back into her true form, staring down at the great axe one of the corpses possessed.

She remembered.

"I have someone to still tell you about. Your father."

"But Papa! I already have two!"

"This one, my little prince, you did not meet yet. Maybe you will in the future. I at least hope you do."

"Who is it, Papa?"

"His name was Vicente Valtieri. He was a powerful vampire, yet... He was sweet and kind. He fought with two-handed weapons and was an assassin! He assisted me in my pregnancy with you and I was married to him."

"Why did you never tell me?"

"You were too young to understand until now. If you... ever find yourself on Nirn... Search for him. He would have loved to meet you, my darling."

"I will find him and I will bring him back to you!"

Hadvar's voice got her out of her depths of their mind.

"Sereyna? Good job there- b-but... what are you?"

She smiled and said effortlessly, "I am a human."

"Oh, so- that was only an illusion spell? Wow, you must be quite the mage!"

Sereyna reached down and looted the corpses. One of them had some cooked beef on him, so she started to eat that. She took the great axe and now she had a preferred weapon she could wield.

"Search for everything valueable! Oh, there are some potions over there."

Hadvar wandered over to a table, but Sereyna was quite busy searching for food and anything she could eat. She pocketed many things like alchemy ingredients and let no jute sack unchecked, eating everything that looked digestable. Even raw potatos would be left uneaten. It was as if a hole had burned through her stomach after she had shapeshifted.

Only after a while, she finally reached where Hadvar had seen the potions and she put those in her pockets as well. She grabbed some wine off the same table and chugged it right then and there.

"Uh, shall we go on?"

Sereyna only nodded and they continued down some stairs, hearing commotion already. A lightning spell passed by them and Sereyna got out her new great axe.

She looked around the corner to see what was going on and decided to attack the stormcloaks that the henchman was fighting. A few strikes and plunges later, it was quiet and Sereyna looked around as Hadvar talked to the henchman. "This was a torture room," she concluded seeing all of the cages, "So we must be in the dungeons."

Her eyes got stuck on one object in the entire room. A book with the symbol of the empire on it. She walked over to the table it was on, opened it and read the bold Tamrielic on the first page. The Book of the Dragonborn.

"Hey, Sereyna! Look! In the cage. That would be useful to have... can you maybe lockpick?"

Sereyna looked up from the book and put it in her pocket as well before looking at the cage.

There was a spell book inside and a little gold.

"Here."

Hadvar handed her a few lockpicks and she crouched down in front of the lock. Shouldn't be too difficult, she thought. After a few tries, it was open and she quickly took everything that could be of value. Including the mage robes of the dead body in there.

Now being three, they followed the tunnel further, going deeper.

The henchman stopped, "I am sorry, but I have my duty to do. You go on."

Hadvar hesitated, "Are you sure?"

"Yes," the henchman confirmed and Sereyna waved goodbye to him.

On their way out, they met more stormcloaks, giant spiders and even a bear at some point. They were glad once they saw the exit.

Outside, Sereyna suddenly had a very bad feeling and pulled Hadvar down right behind a rock.

The black dragon that had destroyed the village was belowing as it flew away above them.

"Thank you."

The demiprince had been quiet the entire time and Hadvar was starting to worry as they made their way to a village called Riverwood.

"You... you should join the empire. We could use someone like you."

"No, thank you. I hate politics. Leave me out of your silly, boring, little war."

"It's not just a silly war! It's for everyone to feel safe again!"

"Sure."

Sereyna started to pluck the flowers along their way. Mountain flowers had good effects for alchemy. As they continued down the road, Hadvar looked at her twice.

"Sereyna? You... have something there."

Butterflies had placed themselves all over Sereyna, covering her in colorful wings.

"Oh... Hello, friends."

The demiprince was starting to feel better. She no longer thought about how stupid mortals are and how they captured her. The butterflies were consoling her. They felt like... home.

"Animals seem to like you."

For Hadvar, this was a sight to behold.

Sereyna very slowly walked up to Hadvar. She picked a butterfly off herself and put it on Hadvar's nose. She chuckled.

"There you go."

The nord held very still.

"Okay, butterflies. You can go."

Sereyna started to shake them off and they all scrammed, except the one on Hadvar's nose.

"You too."

She moved the butterfly away and they went their way. Hadvar stopped.

"You see that old ruin up there? I used to be afraid that undead draugr would make their way from up there and crawl through the window right into my bedroom. To this day, I do not like the sight of it."

"Undead should be the least of our worries now."

Hadvar acknowledged that fact, "You are right."

That was when Sereyna saw a few overgrown stones on the path to Riverwood.

"What is that?"

"Those are the guardian stones. They help you master skills faster. The warrior is for fighting, the mage is for spells and the thief is for well, uhm... less legal activities."

She slowly walked up to them and placed her hand on the mage stone. The demiprince could feel the energy surge through the stone and a bright light shot up from it and into the sky.

"A mage, eh? Why does that not surprise me? Come on."

The road to the village was getting better. It was stronger and more structured. Perfect for transporting goods, though, it did not look like the road was used often.

"So... what is your birthsign? Under which were you born?"

"None, I guess."

Hadvar lowered his eyebrows in confusion, "None?"

Sereyna shrugged.

"Huh. I heard of "Oh I do not know", but "None"? Never heard that comment before."

"Well, I wasn't born on N-"

"Look! There is Riverwood! Let's go!"

Hadvar pulled Sereyna with him, to their dismay.

"Uncle Alvor!"

"Hadvar? How nice of you to visit-"

"We have no time for formalities, uncle. I was-"

"Both of you look awful! Let's go inside."

In the background, Sereyna could hear a young man dismissing his mother after she yelled about seeing a dragon. Well, that old woman was right actually.

Alvor took both of them inside.

"Oh! Hadvar! How nice of you to visit-"

"The boy needs to sit down, Sigrid."

"Oh, what happened? And who is that?"

Hadvar sat down at the dinner table and sighed loudly, "We were in Helgen to execute Ulfric Stormcloak, but... we were attacked. By a dragon."

"A dragon?! If this is supposed to be a joke then-"

"Why would our nephew joke about this, Sigrid? This is serious..."

Alvor sat down at the table as well, comtemplating their next move. He slowly looked up at Sereyna.

"Come. Sit down, girl."

Sereyna slowly wandered over to the wooden table and sat down. It seemed they would have eaten dinner if it hadn't been for them. The house was a simple build. Typical nord architecture, perfect for harsh winters.

"If a dragon really is here, then we have to defend ourselves."

"I have to go back to Solitude. I need to rejoin my forces."

"Tell me your name, girl."

The demiprince hesitated.

"Sereyna."

"Sereyna, please.... I know this is much to ask for, but please inform the Jarl in Whiterun of what has happened. He would help us."

"Where is Whiterun?"

"You just have to follow the road. It's a large hold. One of the main holds in Skyrim."

"Alright, I will do it."

She cannot believe she is being pulled into this, but her compassion seemed to be stronger than her hate for humans and most mortals.

"Thank you... you are allowed to take everything within reason! A friend of Hadvar is also a friend of us!"

Hadvar interrupted, "I think... We will have to sleep here first before we go on our journey."

Alvor nodded, "Yes, of course. We will prepare a bed for you. Sigrid?"

Sigrid nodded and started to get a few pelts.

Until it was dark, Sereyna helped out Alvor at his forge. She mostly hauled heavy things, but he also showed her how to forge objects and improve them which would definitely come in handy later.

Hadvar and Sereyna were lying downstairs, in the same bed, facing away from each other.

"Do you... think we will survive this?"

"The war?"

"No, the dragons."

She chuckled, "Well, I will definitely survive. I do not know about you, though."

Hadvar couldn't help but chuckle at this response.

"Good night, Sereyna."

"Good night."

The demiprince waited a few minutes until Hadvar was sound asleep and she got out her golden necklace with amethyst gems placed into it. She clenched onto it. At least the empire did not take that from her. Sereyna's whispers were incredibly quiet.

"Papa?"

There was no answer.

"Papa, I am here."

She closed her eyes and concentrated. Sereyna imagined herself on a meadow on the Shivering Isles. After a while, she finally got a response. A purple, golden spot entered the meadow.

"Sereyna, my daughter! There you are! Apologies. I am quite busy."

"Busy with what?"

"Akatosh will not let me leave. He is... you could say hoarding me. I do not know why, but he is in dragon form."

"I think I know why. The dragons are back."

"The last time they appeared was... in the second era? How do you know they are back? Are you okay?"

Sereyna knew Sheogorath would get angry.

"I did not make it into Cyrodiil, father."

"You. What."

She started to nervously chew on her lips.

"Then where are you?! I can come get you-

"No, I am... in Skyrim."

"In Skyrim?! What are you even wearing?! That is not the outfit I gave you!"

Even in her imagination, she was still wearing the stormcloak armor.

"The empire ambushed the stormcloaks at the border and they thought I was a stormcloak. I was supposed to be executed today."

"That stupid empire. I swear-"

"A half sibling rescued me, but destroyed the entire village where I was supposed to be executed."

Sheogorath had a slight idea of who she was talking about, but he wanted to confirm.

"What did he look like?"

"Threatening, large, black, with red eyes-"

"I have to inform Akatosh, though, I am guessing he already knows. Stay safe, Sereyna."

Their connection broke off and she opened her eyes in confusion. It was still awfully dark except for some candles. She grabbed the pillow and hugged it until she finally fell asleep a few hours later.

#oc: sereyna (ldb)#skyrim fanfiction #skyrim #ldb oc #elder scrolls #the elder scrolls #fanfiction #this took me 4 days happy reading

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officialambassadorfrisk · 1 year

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Hey, you. You're finally awake. You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there. Damn you Stormcloaks. Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you, I could've stolen that horse and be halfway to Hammerfell. You there. You and me - we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants. We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief. Shut up back there! And what's wrong with him, huh? Watch your tongue. You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King. Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You're the leader of the rebellion. But if they've captured you... Oh gods, where are they taking us? I don't know where we're going, but Sovngarde awaits. No, this can't be happening. This isn't happening. Hey, what village are you from, horse thief? Why do you care? A Nord's last thoughts should be of home. Rorikstead. I'm... I'm from Rorikstead.

...looks like the Thalmor are with him.

General Tullius, sir. The headsman is waiting. Good. Let's get this over with! Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh. Divines, please help me. Look at him. General Tullius the Military Governor. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves. I bet they had something to do with this.

Why are we stopping? Why do you think? End of the line. Let's go. Shouldn't keep the gods waiting for us.

["You have got to be kidding me."

"HAH!"

"FRISK! Seriously!? Are you under the bed??"

"Yeah!"

"You woke me up just to Toddroll me?!"

"Yeah!"

"...I'm so proud."]

#chara answers

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mi4019dilumwarakagoda · 1 year

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The Script I Chose

[Skyrim opens with an Imperial wagon driving four prisoners down a snowy mountain pass. All are seated and bound; the one dressed in finery is gagged.]

Ralof: Hey, you. You’re finally awake. You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there.

Lokir: D**n you Stormcloaks. Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn’t been looking for you, I could’ve stolen that horse and been half way to Hammerfell. You there. You and me — we should be here. It’s these Stormcloaks the Empire wants.

Ralof: We’re all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief.

Imperial Soldier: Shut up back there!

[Lokir looks at the gagged man.]

Lokir: And what’s wrong with him?

Ralof: Watch your tongue! You’re speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King.

Lokir: Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You’re the leader of the rebellion. But if they captured you… Oh gods, where are they taking us?

Ralof: I don’t know where we’re going, but Sovngarde awaits.

Lokir: No, this can’t be happening. This isn’t happening.

Ralof: Hey, what village are you from, horse thief?

Lokir: Why do you care?

Ralof: A Nord’s last thoughts should be of home.

Lokir: Rorikstead. I’m…I’m from Rorikstead.

[They approach the village of Helgen. A soldier calls out to the lead wagon.]

Imperial Soldier: General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting!

General Tullius: Good. Let’s get this over with.

Lokir: Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh. Divines, please help me.

Ralof: Look at him, General Tullius the Military Governor. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. D**n elves. I bet they had something to do with this.

This is Helgen. I used to be sweet on a girl from here. Wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in. Funny…when I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe.

[A man and son watch the prisoners pull into town.]

Haming: Who are they, daddy? Where are they going?

Torolf: You need to go inside, little cub.

Haming: Why? I want to watch the soldiers.

Torolf: Inside the house. Now.

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who-is-shades · 1 year

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*presses secret third option button*

*The room shakes!*

*Everything goes dark...*

...

. . .

You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there. Damn you Stormcloaks. Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you, I could've stolen that horse and be halfway to Hammerfell. You there. You and me - we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants. We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief. Shut up back there! And what's wrong with him, huh? Watch your tongue. You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King. Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You're the leader of the rebellion. But if they've captured you... Oh gods, where are they taking us? I don't know where we're going, but Sovngarde awaits. No, this can't be happening. This isn't happening. Hey, what village are you from, horse thief? Why do you care? A Nord's last thoughts should be of home. Rorikstead. I'm... I'm from Rorikstead.

...looks like the Thalmor are with him.

Why are we stopping? Why do you think? End of the line. Let's go. Shouldn't keep the gods waiting for us.

#joke ending #skyrim #get skyrimd idiot

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p-h-a-n-t-a · 2 years

Text

Friends at the table is an actual play podcast focused on Hey, you. You're finally awake. You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there. Damn you Stormcloaks. Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you, I could've stolen that horse and be halfway to Hammerfell. You there. You and me - we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants. We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief. Shut up back there! And what's wrong with him, huh? Watch your tongue. You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King. Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You're the leader of the rebellion. But if they've captured you... Oh gods, where are they taking us? I don't know where we're going, but Sovngarde awaits. No, this can't be happening. This isn't happening. Hey, what village are you from, horse thief? Why do you care? A Nord's last thoughts should be of home. Rorikstead. I'm... I'm from Rorikstead.

...looks like the Thalmor are with him.

Why are we stopping? Why do you think? End of the line. Let's go. Shouldn't keep the gods waiting for us.

#ignore #im sorry

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penisman420-69 · 3 years

Text

Hey, you. You're finally awake.

...looks like the Thalmor are with him.

Why are we stopping? Why do you think? End of the line. Let's go. Shouldn't keep the gods waiting for us.

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haziebat · 3 years

Text

Moving Mountains | Ch. 1 | Skyrim x Fem!Reader

[Interactive | Readers Vote]

Word count: 2,700

Content Warning: Depictions of violence

───── ⋆⋅✶⋅⋆ ─────

You find yourself in the courtyard of a palace made of smooth gray stone. Its spires graze the twinkling stars emerging in the green-tinted sky. To either side of you are aged trees. Their gnarled, leafless branches reach toward the twilit heavens. Their roots dig into lush grass that creeps into the stonework of the walkway.

You can't place the scene, but it's stained with an uneasy familiarity. Your feet recognize the stairs beneath them as you begin your climb to the palace doors. They are a stately pair - tall, with ornate filigree designs, standing in proud opposition to each other.

You reach out and take hold of a sturdy handle. It's cold to the touch - a sensation so vivid it could burn your palm.

With an uneven breath, you pull.

───── ⋆⋅✶⋅⋆ ─────

White light sears your bleary eyes.

Groaning, you pinch them shut. The glow taunts you through your eyelids. It flickers in spots, giving you the image of sunspots shining through a verdant canopy. Leaves dance in a cool breeze. Goosebumps prickle your bare skin.

Your head aches as you're jostled. A throbbing pain resonates through your muscles. Wheels click on a cobblestone road. You're certain you're on a carriage, and almost as certain that one ran you over.

This isn't right.

You force your eyes open.

They're flooded with harsh morning sun.

Blinking away the discomfort, you begin to take in your surroundings.

You are on a cart, just as you suspected, surrounded by unfamiliar faces. Behind them are towering evergreens. Birds sing among the needles. A light frost clings to the branches. Stray snowflakes meander through the air. On the road before you are more carriages with strangers clad in identical armor sitting in the backs. Carts slip off around the bend toward a destination unknown.

Unknown.

There are a lot of unknowns right now.

How you got here, for example.

You go to search the dustiest corners of your memory just to find that there are no corners to search. No dust has settled because there's nothing for it to cling to. Every stretch of your mind comes up blank. Where you were before and where you're headed... Nothing.

All that's left are the clouded memories of a dream.

Your stomach twists into a knot.

You need to focus on the things you know - on certainties.

First order of business: do you know your name?

(Y,,,,N)?

(Y/N)?

Sure.

Sounds good enough.

You're more confident about that than anything else right now.

Your name is (Y/N) and you're somewhere you don't know, on a carriage headed somewhere you don't know, surrounded by people you also don't know. The strangers share a grim expression that only makes your sinking feeling grow deeper.

You move to rub your temples and massage away the headache and racing thoughts.

Your hand is caught.

Your heart goes still.

You look down to find your wrists bound with an intricately wrapped leather strip. It digs into your flesh with each tug against it.

No.

No, no, no.

This isn't happening.

Panic threatens to seize you. It festers in your gut. Your breathing is uneven.

You look to the man across from you. He looks to be in his late twenties, with wavy blond locks falling to a square, bearded jaw. His eyes are round and prominent, a striking blue and steadfast. He's clad in armor made of supple brown leather with a muted blue sash displaying the emblem of a bear, same as most of the others.

"Where are we?" You croak out. Your throat is dry, but your voice is familiar. It's a small shred of comfort.

"You're in Skyrim, lass." He replies. He bears an accent that marks him as a Nord - a term you recognize.

"Skyrim." You repeat. Another word you know.

You're relieved you still seem to hold some functional knowledge of the world. You're in Skyrim, the snowy, northernmost province of Tamriel. It's a land of harsh frost and cruel beasts, with hardy people and hearty mead. These are all facts - little things that make such a surreal moment feel more concrete. And yet none of these details paint you a portrait of yourself. Frustration seeps in alongside anxiety.

"You were wandering near the border." The stranger explains. "Lost, confused, naked... Seems like you have a few more of your faculties back now, eh?"

You glance down at yourself. Whoever captured you had the decency to dress you, if that's what you want to call it. You're clad in rough burlap rags with dirt clinging to the fraying fibers.

"Well, I'm clothed. That's something." You reply.

"Good. Still got your sense of humor. You're going to need that." The man says.

His words unsettle you.

"How'd I wind up a captive?" You ask, tugging again at your binds. You're aware of the futility but there's little else for you to do.

"You got tangled up in the fight when the Imperials ambushed us. Couldn't get out a damn sentence but you took down two men. Can't say I've ever seen anything like it." The Nord's voice holds a hint of humor. "You were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Same as that thief over there."

"Damn you Stormcloaks." The thief spits. Your attention is drawn to him. He has a lean frame and gaunt face with grime coating his skin. Greasy brown hair frames wild eyes better suited for a caged animal. "Everything was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you, I could have stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell."

"Stormcloaks?" You inquire. It's the one word that escapes your recognition

"You really are in a state, aren't you?" The blond man replies with a crinkle of his brow. "I was sure everyone had gotten wind of our rebellion."

"Yeah, I don't think I'm gonna be the best gauge of that one." You say with a trace of a smirk.

"Shut up back there!" The driver barks.

A tense silence settles over the cart.

It's broken by the thief, who asks in a hushed tone, "What's wrong with him, huh?"

You follow his eyes to the man in question. They're locked on the Nord to your right. He's an imposing man with a mane of wild, deep blond hair pulled back from his face. It's adorned with braids, fastened with carved beads and leather knots. He has steely eyes beneath a stern brow. His nose is prominent and slightly crooked, giving the impression he's had it broken a time or two before. He wears fine robes adorned with chainmail - attire that indicates both his wealth and his status as a warrior. A gag is tied around his mouth.

"Watch your tongue." The Nord in front of you commands. "You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King."

"Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm?" The Thief nearly chokes on the words. "You're the leader of the rebellion... If they've captured you... Oh, Gods... Where are they taking us?"

"I don't know where we're going, but Sovngarde awaits."

Sovngarde, a Nord's afterlife,

If what he says is true - if you're headed to your death - where is your soul headed? Will you be granted an afterlife, or be met with an abrupt nothingness? Or will your lost and confused spirit be bound to mundus, cursed to wander for an eternity?

Plenty of options, and very few appealing ones.

"No! This can't be happening! This isn't happening!" The thief's voice wavers. His eyes dart about the carriage, cycling restlessly from face to face. He seems to be looking for an out you could assure him doesn't exist. His desperation is palpable.

Your heart is fluttering. Your palms begin to sweat. You don't know what life you led until this point but you can't begin to piece together how it led you here. Is this what you deserve?

It's impossible to say where you've been, or where you're headed. You can't even tell how long you've been in Tamriel. Your exact age is as murky as everything else. You can ascertain "adult" but how much of an adult is unclear. You feel as if you've been around for a while though the more you settle into your skin you feel that your body is still comparatively young.

You bring your eyes up along your bare arms and take in the pale scars dotting them.

Your skin tells stories with ghosts of burns, cuts and gashes. Though the details are lost you can make out the meat of them: no matter how long your body has been around, it has been through a lot. You seem to have a knack for getting into trouble, or a history of dangerous work.

The Nord in front of you speaks up, pulling you from your thoughts.

"Hey... What village are you from, horse thief?"

"Why do you care?" The thief snaps.

"A Nord's last thoughts should be of home."

The thief hesitates. His face contorts before softening, with thin lips curled into a frown. "Rorikstead... I'm... I'm from Rorikstead..."

"What about you?" The blond man asks.

You pause to think on the question.

Yet you keep coming up blank.

You were found wandering at the border? Which one? Southern makes the most sense - this area doesn't share the lush, mountainous terrain of High Rock. It closer resembles the Jerall mountains, with steep hills and muted greens. You could be from Cyrodiil, but something in your bones insists this answer is unsatisfactory.

Sitting on the question too long you stammer out, "I uh... I have no fucking clue."

He laughs - a genuine chuckle with a glimmering smile. "Good an answer as any. I suppose it won't make much of a difference soon."

The carriage rounds a corner and a small village comes into view. It's surrounded by a sturdy stone wall with a broad wooden gate shielding the houses from the road. A figure on the covered walkway above calls out to the man leading the caravan, "General Tullius, Sir! The headsman is waiting!"

"Good." A gruff voice barks. "Let's get this over with."

"Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh... Divines, please help me!" The thief pleads with closed eyes, head slumped and shoulders shuddering.

Entering the gates, you pass the man who led the string of carriages. He seems to be in his fifties, with cropped gray hair, though his toned arms tell you he's still in good shape. His face is austere with near-black eyes boring holes into the Altmer across from him. The golden skinned elves wear dark robes and gold armor.

"Look at him," the Blond man growls, "General Tullius, the Military Governor. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves."

"Thalmor." You barely recognize the word on your tongue. You're unsure what it means. The most closely related term you can conjure is "laughing stock".

"What's their deal?" You ask.

His brow furrows. "I don't know what happened to you but whatever it was, it really did a number on you, eh lass? The Thalmor are with the Aldmeri Dominion, here to 'unify Tamriel'. Serves better to rip her apart."

Okay that sounds like... New information.

You close your eyes and take a deep, steady breath.

This, you have decided, is all bullshit.

You struggle to keep your attention outwards, away from these prying thoughts.

"This is Helgen," The Nord continues. His expression grows heavier with each turn of the wheels. "I used to be sweet on a girl from here... Wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in."

Juniper berries. Piney, with a hint of a peppery bite.

This trivia is useless.

Above you looms a tower. A flag at its top proudly flies the symbol of the Empire - that dragon that rings so familiar. You know it well, but you do not feel loyalty. It is simply an icon of a frail nation.

"Funny... When I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe." The Nord sighs.

"Who are they, daddy? Where are they going?" A young boy chirps above the murmur of the townsfolk. The people have gathered in the streets and on their porches to watch.

"You need to go inside the house, little cub." His father replies.

"Why? I want to watch the soldiers."

"Inside the house. Now."

"Yes, Papa."

You wonder for a moment - who were your parents? Are they worth remembering? You wait for a melancholy pang and are met with apathy. This, somehow, feels worse. You try and focus on the present - it's the most you have right now.

The carriage draws to a halt in the town square, in the shadows of the ominous stone towers. In the clearing the headsman stands by his block. His axe gleams in the sunlight, drawing your eye back no matter how you try and avoid it. Beside him is a priestess wearing golden robes and a solemn face. She's likely a follower of Arkay, here to give you a proper sendoff to the grave.

You're not sure how much stock you put in the Divines.

At the moment, you'd say not much.

"Why are we stopping?" Beads of sweat begin to trickle down the thief's forehead, leaving trails of fair skin behind. It reveals his flushed cheeks and betrays his terror even further.

"Why do you think? End of the line." The blond man gets to his feet. He's tall with broad shoulders - the quintessential Nord. Looking past him at the others, you'd say he's right at home in this crowd. It seems to be a requirement for a position as a Stormcloak. How the Imperials threw you in among them is beyond you. You're pretty sure you put even less stock in the Legion than the Gods.

You get to your feet on rickety legs and follow the men off the cart. On the ground, you can hardly see past the group.

In the gaps between heads and shoulders you see what looks to be an Imperial Captain in heavy steel armor standing beside a leather clad soldier with auburn hair and an uncertain look. In his hand is a thick tome.

"Step towards the block when we call your name, one at a time." The Captain's voice holds no remorse. If you aren't mistaken, it seems to be dripping pride. Your lip curls at the sound.

"Empire loves their damn lists." The blond man says in a hushed tone.

The Imperial soldier begins to read from the pages in front of him. "Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm."

Ulfric remains silent as he joins the crowd congregating by the headsman's block. He walks with his head held high. He must know he'll die a martyr. If he's a true leader, his fight should last long after him, whether or not it's in the right.

"Ralof of Riverwood." The soldier reads.

The blond man gives you a nod and heads towards his fate. A strange loneliness sets in. For the first time since waking you don't have a companion - or at the very least a voice other than yours to drown out your thoughts. To talk over the terror creeping up your spine.

"Lokir of Rorikstead."

The thief's eyes are that of a cornered beast. Frenzied, he looks to the block, then back to the Captain. "I'm not a rebel! You can't do this!"

Before she can reply, he runs. His legs carry him toward the gate at an uneven pace. They look as if they'll give out beneath him. "You're not gonna kill me!"

"Halt!" The Captain's shout echoes off the buildings surrounding you. Her demand falls on deaf ears. "Archers!"

There is the pluck of bowstrings in near-unison. Lokir cries out as arrows bury themselves in his back. He collapses to the ground, blood running down his side and staining his burlap rags. He wails one final time as his arms give out beneath him.

He falls limp on the cobblestone.

"Anyone else feel like running?" The Captain asks.

She's met with silence.

The auburn haired soldier's eyes wander to the book, then back to you. "Who are you?"

───── ⋆⋅✶⋅⋆ ─────

╭━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━╮

Q U E S T I O N S

╰━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━╯

1.) What race are you?

✶ Argonian

✶ Breton

✶ Dark Elf

✶ High Elf

✶ Imperial

✶ Khajiit

✶ Nord

✶ Orc

✶ Redguard

✶ Wood Elf

2.) Any last words when you're at the headsman's block?

✶ "I'm not a rebel!"

✶ "Your grip on that axe is sloppy. You sure you've done this before?"

✶ "Fuck you."

✶ Nothing. I'm going out with whatever dignity I have.

✶ Nothing. But I spit on the executioner.

POLL CLOSES: 01/31/2021

#fic: moving mountains #skyrim #skyrim x reader #the elder scrolls #tesv #interactive story #interactive x reader #reader insert #x reader

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shinypenguinpizza · 3 years

Text

Hey, you. You're finally awake.

...looks like the Thalmor are with him.

Why are we stopping? Why do you think? End of the line. Let's go. Shouldn't keep the gods waiting for us.

#comedy #funny #shitpost #skyrim

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lindleland · 3 years

Note

Ralof: Hey, you. You're finally awake. You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there. Lokir: Damn you Stormcloaks. Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you, I could've stolen that horse and been half way to Hammerfell. You there. You and me -- we should be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants. Ralof: We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief. Imperial Soldier: Shut up back there! [Lokir looks at the gagged man.] Lokir: And what's wrong with him? Ralof: Watch your tongue! You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King. Lokir: Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You're the leader of the rebellion. But if they captured you... Oh gods, where are they taking us? Ralof: I don't know where we're going, but Sovngarde awaits. Lokir: No, this can't be happening. This isn't happening. Ralof: Hey, what village are you from, horse thief? Lokir: Why do you care? Ralof: A Nord's last thoughts should be of home. Lokir: Rorikstead. I'm...I'm from Rorikstead. [They approach the village of Helgen. A soldier calls out to the lead wagon.] Imperial Soldier: General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting! General Tullius: Good. Let's get this over with. Lokir: Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh. Divines, please help me. Ralof: Look at him, General Tullius the Military Governor. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves. I bet they had something to do with this. This is Helgen. I used to be sweet on a girl from here. Wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in. Funny...when I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe. [A man and son watch the prisoners pull into town.] Haming: Who are they, daddy? Where are they going? Torolf: You need to go inside, little cub. Haming: Why? I want to watch the soldiers. Torolf: Inside the house. Now. [The wagon stops near the chopping block.] Imperial Soldier: Whoa. Lokir: Why are they stopping? Ralof: Why do you think? End of the line.

god damn it skyrim got ported to my asks

#weird ask day

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celticcatgirl2 · 8 months

Text

“Hey, you. You're finally awake. You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there. Damn you Stormcloaks. Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you, I could've stolen that horse and be halfway to Hammerfell. You there. You and me - we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants. We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief. Shut up back there! And what's wrong with him, huh? Watch your tongue. You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King. Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You're the leader of the rebellion. But if they've captured you... Oh gods, where are they taking us? I don't know where we're going, but Sovngarde awaits. No, this can't be happening. This isn't happening. Hey, what village are you from, horse thief? Why do you care? A Nord's last thoughts should be of home. Rorikstead. I'm... I'm from Rorikstead.

...looks like the Thalmor are with him.

Why are we stopping? Why do you think? End of the line. Let's go. Shouldn't keep the gods waiting for us….”

#shut up alex #personal #yashahime #miroku #shiori #hachi #hachiemon #setsuna #alex watches yashahime #miroku inuyasha #shiori yashahime #hachi inuyasha #hachiemon inuyasha #setsuna yashahime #yashahime princess half demon

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varricmancer · 4 years

Text

Intertwined | 2

*** Cross-posted on AO3 ***

Pairing: Farkas x F!OC

Summary: A child of Mara was a soul blessed and bound to its mate for all eternity. Elizabeth Williams is summoned to Mara as a lost soul, only she’s from modern America and her mate is somewhere in the wilds of Skyrim.

A/N: Quick note - Don't worry! I don't plan on rehashing the script the entire time. This part was just essential so that Elizabeth recognizes where she is and what's going on.

***

She’d gone to college so she’s woken up to some horrible things before - puke in the bed, strange houses, dates that were definitely a product of beer goggles. She couldn’t ever remember feeling this horrible, however, not even during the worst hangover in her memory.

Elizabeth’s entire body ached, from the pounding in her head to the sharp stabs of pain in her ankles. The pain was amplified every time whatever she was in would hit something and bump her. If she was in a car they were the slowest drivers of all time, and they had the top down. The sun was piercing through even her closed eyelids. She tried to bring her hand up to shade her eyes from the painful light, only to realize she couldn’t.

She tried to crack open her eyes instead, but she was still groggy and her vision slightly blurred. She took a sniff instead, immediately recoiling. Overwhelming amounts of body odor, spoiled food, and what certainly smelled like shit of both human and animal variety.

Where the hell was she?

Someone groaned next to her and she finally managed to focus enough to see clearly. She looks up into the grim face of a strange man. His blonde hair was scraggly and clearly hadn’t been washed in ages as it hung around his face. He wasn’t ugly, just kinda dirty. Like, Kurt Cobain after a roll around in some dirt.

“Hey, you’re both finally awake. You were trying to cross the border right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush same as us and that thief over there.”

She looks around, finally noticing that she’s in the back of an old rickety wooden wagon, the kind that they usually put in old westerns or other period movies. There are several men stuffed in the back with her, all of them with their hands tied in thick rope. The one nearest the back of the wagon is even gagged. She looks down at herself and notices that she is indeed tied up too, but she also has an extra rope tying to her the man next to her. The one blinking up at her groggily with red eyes set in a face of grey.

Okay...so she guesses she’s still dreaming? Her head really fucking hurt and she could barely think straight, but she felt like she knew what was going on. If only her head would stop pounding enough for her to concentrate.

“Damn you Stormcloaks... Skyrim was fine until you came along! Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn’t been looking for you I’d have stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell. You there, “ he nods towards the grey man next to her, who stops glaring at his ropes long enough to lift a questioning eyebrow at the angry brunette man. “You and me, we shouldn’t be here. It’s these Stormcloaks the Empire wants.”

“We’re all brothers and sisters in binds now,” says dirty Kurt.

“Shut up back there!”

Elizabeth startles at the sudden shout, turning to look at the drivers themselves. They were wearing what looked like medieval armor. She even spotted a glint of metal on their hips, like they were carrying real swords. She gulped and spared a look at the grey guy still tied to her, noting that he looked just as freaked out as her even if the proud tilt of his head remained.

“What’s wrong with him, huh?” The angry brunette man snorts and nods his head towards the large gagged man in the back.

“Watch your tongue! You’re speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King.”

Apparently, dirty Kurt had said something truly terrifying, because angry brunette looked ready to piss his pants. “Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You’re the leader of the rebellion... if they’ve captured you... oh gods, where are they taking us?”

“I don’t know where we’re going, but Sovngarde awaits.”

“No, This can’t be happening! This isn’t happening!”

Angry brunette looked on the verge of a panic attack and she was afraid his terror was infectious because she was starting to freak out herself. Her mind was finally clearing of the painful fog and she realized she knew this scene. She’d seen it play out a million times. She could quote it word for word if asked.

“Hey, what village are you from horse-thief?”

“Why do you care?”

“A Nord’s last thoughts should be of home.”

“Rorikstead. I’m from Rorikstead.”

“General Tullius sir! The headsman is waiting.”

Everyone in the wagon turns to watch as two official-looking men meet to talk. Elizabeth swallows thickly when she recognizes Hadvar. Fucking Hadvar.

“Good, let's get this over with.”

“Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh! Divines, please help me!” Angry brunette mutters loudly, rocking back and forth in his seat. What was his name again? Something with an ‘L’ she thinks.

Dirty Kurt - who she now realizes is Ralof - scoffs at the men. “Look at him! General Tullius, the Military. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves, I bet they had something to do with this.” He pauses and looks around the filthy little village. “This is Helgen... I used to be sweet on a girl from here. I wonder if Velod is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in... Funny, when I was a boy Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe.”

Elizabeth feels her breath hitch as they turn the corner, the little scene where the father is ushering his child into the house so he wouldn’t witness the deaths scarily familiar.

The wagon is slowing even more, and she looks around, amazed that she could recognize everything. There’s Hadvar, waiting with his list. There’s his bitch of a Captain. There’s the chopping block. There’s the tower where Alduin...oh fuck.

“Get these prisoners out of the cart!”

The wagon stops with a jolt and she struggles to keep her balance. The grey guy (Dunmer, she recalls. Dark Elves) is someone that she doesn’t recognize but seems nice enough since he pushes his shoulder against her to keep her from falling over. She smiles timidly in thanks, and he nods briskly. She realizes he’s been silent the entire time. Could he be the Dragonborn? It would be a giant fucking joke on the entire world if she was.

“Why are we stopping?”

Ralof looks at the angry brunette with pity shining in his eyes.“ Why do you think? End of the line. Let’s go, we shouldn’t keep the gods waiting for us.”

Ralof stands bravely and leads the way out of the wagon, despite angry brunette’s panicked whining.

“No! Wait! We’re not rebels!”

“Face your death with some courage, thief.”

To be fair to the guy, Elizabeth was starting to feel like breathing was becoming difficult. Her heart was pounding in her chest and she could feel her entire body shaking. To be honest, she was probably in the middle of both a panic attack and whatever shock did to the body. She felt almost detached and yet this still all felt almost too real.

“You’ve got to tell them we weren’t with you! This is a mistake!” angry brunette continues ranting.

“Step towards the block when we call your name, one at a time!” the female Captain shouted. Elizabeth glanced around nervously. Any moment now she was going to wake up. Hopefully, before she had to put her neck anywhere near the wooden block still stained with past kills.

Hadvar clears his throat and adjusts his papers before turning towards the gagged prisoner.

“Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm.”

They all turn to watch as the large man walks defiantly towards his place in line.

“It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric,” Ralof nods his head towards the man.

“Ralof of Riverwood,” he moves to his spot in line proudly.

“Lokir of Rorikstead.”

“No! I’m not a rebel! You can’t do this!”

Elizabeth flinches as angry brunette tries to make a run for it. She’d always thought this part was fucked up.

“Halt!” the Captain yells at him.

“You’re not going to kill me!”

Horrible choice for your last words, she thinks.

“Archers!”

Elizabeth observes in horror as the arrow flies through the air. Surprisingly enough it landed in his knee instead of his head or gut. He rolled around on the ground, groaning. Elizabeth thought she might be going a little crazy if all she wanted to do was giggle and make jokes about guards and arrows to the knee. Maybe the guard in Whiterun was angry brunette the whole time.

The Captain glares at the rest of the prisoners. “Anyone else feel like running?”

Hadvar crinkles his nose and looks at the Dark Elf man next to her.

“Wait... You there. Step forward.”

The man did his best to walk up to Hadvar without pulling her too much. He subtly eases her behind him and quirks an eyebrow at the soldier.

“Who are you?” Hadvar questions, glancing between him and the list in his hand.

“Sundrose Droleno,” the Dark Elf answers, his voice refined and currently sounding very bored and unimpressed with the entire affair. If Elizabeth hadn’t noticed the fear flashing briefly in his eyes while they were on the wagon, she would think him unaffected entirely.

“Another refugee?” Hadvar sighs. “The Gods really have abandoned your people, dark elf. Captain, what should we do? He’s not on the list.”

The woman sneers at him and shrugs. “Forget the list. He goes straight to the block.”

Hadvar frowns, obviously trying to hold back saying something. Finally, his shoulders droop and he looks at the dark elf, apology shining in his eyes but meaningless as everyone now knew how unfair this entire thing was.

“By your orders, Captain. I’m sorry. We’ll make sure your remains get returned to Morrowind. Follow the captain, prisoner.”

Hadvar finally notices Elizabeth behind the Dark Elf, frown deepening as he notes the combined rope.

“What’s going on here?”

“He tried to stop us from taking her,” one of the soldiers that drove the wagon answered. “Figured he’d come along easier if he had his...lady friend,” the soldier snorted, showing exactly what sort of friend he thought she was.

“Enough!” the Captain shouts. “Take care of her next. Whether she’s accomplice or camp whore makes no difference. She was with the rebels. Collect her name and stand her in line.”

“Captain, I don’t think…”

“Exactly. You’re not to think. You’re to follow orders. Or do you want to join them? Don’t think I’m not aware of where you’re from. A childhood friend of yours, perhaps?”

“No, Captain,” he swallows, shutting his eyes briefly before calling her forward.

“I’m sorry. What is your name?”

She swallows to wet her dry throat, answering softly, “Elizabeth Williams.”

Hadvar raises his eyebrow but scratches down the name. “And where do you hail from? High Rock?”

Elizabeth merely nodded her head, knowing that any other answer like, “Planet Earth,” or “Arizona,” would probably get her a trip to an interrogation chamber rather than waiting out here for the inevitable outcome.

He then waves for her to join the dark elf, no one thinking to bother untying them from each other before sending them to the block, apparently. As she steps up to her place, she searches the skies frantically for signs of Alduin. Unless her being here has changed things he should start heading over here soon. Hopefully, before they made her walk up for her turn.

She hadn’t realized how much she was shaking until the dark elf - Sundrose? - placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. He leaned over slightly and whispered in her ear, “Don’t let them see your fear. Head up, little one.”

She exhaled harshly and nodded, squaring her shoulders as she resumed her search. That’s right, she’d be okay. This man next to her was the Dragonborn. She was going to live.

General Tullius walked towards Ulfric, his eyes burning with hatred and fanaticism.

“Some here in Helgen call you a hero, but a hero doesn’t use a power like the voice to murder his king and usurp the throne.”

Ulfric growls warningly from beneath his gag, but the General ignores him.

“You started this war, flung Skyrim into chaos. And now the Empire is going to put you down and restore the peace.”

Finally, the sound that Elizabeth had been waiting for rang through the skies. The far-off roar of a dragon.

Hadvar looked around nervously. “What was that?”

“It’s nothing. Carry on.” General Tullius snapped, eyes never moving from Ulfric.

Captain Bitch salutes him. “Yes, General Tullius!” She turns to the priestess they’ve so thoughtfully provided. “Give them their last rites.”

The drably clothed woman nods and turns towards the line of prisoners.

“As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the 8 divines upon you-”

“For the love of Talos, shut up and let's get this over with,” one of the Stormcloak soldiers snaps and marches towards the chopping block. Elizabeth swallows nervously, because holy shit, was she really about to see someone decapitated?

The priestess stops and stammers, looking at the soldier with a mixture of confusion and pity. “As you wish.”

“Come on! I haven’t got all morning!” The soldier bellows. Some of his fellow soldiers snicker, not seeming surprised by this turn of events at all. He takes one last look at Ulfric and they share a nod before he drops to his knees and presses his face to that horribly stained wood.

“My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?”

Elizabeth holds her breath as they step on the man to hold him down, and she watches in horror as the axe falls and -

A hand quickly grabs her head and turns it towards the side, and she finds shelter in the dark elf’s shoulder. Unfortunately, she could still hear the moment metal met flesh and the horrifying thud as they simply kicked the body to the side like trash.

“You Imperial bastards!” One of the Stormcloak’s yelled at the executioners, spitting into the dirt.

The gathered crowd of villagers were screaming a different tune - “Justice!” and “Death to the Stormcloaks!” were the most common. The first taste the game gave you of differing views and sides.

Ralof sighed and she peeked out of Sundrose’s arm to watch him stare proudly at the corpse. “As fearless in death as he was in life.”

Captain Bitch stood at attention, smirking gleefully at Sundrose. “Next, the dark elf!

The distant roar of a dragon grew closer.

You’re an asshole, Alduin, but right now I’d really like you to hurry and get here, she thought.

Hadvar dropped his hand to the hilt of his sword, searching the skies himself.

“There it is again... did you hear that?”

Captain Bitch ignored him, too power-mad to pay attention to anything else.

“I said... Next. Prisoner.”

One of the Imperial soldiers grabs Sundrose’s arm, yanking him forward.

“To the block prisoner. Nice and easy.”

To her horror, they still hadn’t untied her, so she was pulled right along with him and expected to stand at his side as they executed him. She definitely wasn’t picking Imperials this playthrough.

Sundrose knelt gracefully, turning his head to face her.

“Close your eyes, little one,” he said softly, watching her as the headsman raised his axe.

“No need. He’s here,” she grinned, even as terror filled her at the very real Alduin flying close and landing on the stone building behind them. He roared, sending everyone around them into a panic.

“What in Oblivion is that?!” Hadvar yelled.

Elizabeth waited for Captain Bitch and the General to be caught up in the panic before reaching down to help Sundrose to his feet. They both stood there watching as Alduin set the little town ablaze, killing most of their would-be executioners instantly.

Suddenly Ralof appears and grabs Sundrose’s arm, tugging him towards one of the buildings.

“Come on! The guards won’t give us another chance! This way!”

They both run along after Ralof, with the still gagged Ulfric not far behind them. They rush into one of the still mostly intact buildings, slamming the door behind them. Ralof pulls a dagger off of one of the bodies inside, using it to slash all of their ropes. Elizabeth sighs and rubs her burning wrists in relief.

Ralof turns to Ulfric, his eyes wide in wonder - and though he would probably never admit it - a touch of fear.

“Jarl Ulfric, what is that thing? Could the legends be true?”

Ulfric finishes untying his binds and spits out his gag. “Legends don’t burn down villages.”

Alduin’s roars outside rattle the building as he nears their location, all of them looking worriedly at the walls.

“We need to move, now!” Ralof bellows, gesturing for them to follow him upstairs.

They all run until they can’t anymore, finally facing a dead end. The rest of the stairs had been smashed off by Alduin, leaving nothing but a giant hole in the stone wall.

“See the inn on the other side?” Ralof asked, turning to the two behind him. “Jump through the roof and keep going! We’ll follow when we can!”

And here she was, the end of Skyrim chapter one. She startles as Sundrose suddenly jumps without a word. She rushes towards the hole, watching in awe as he neatly lands with a slight roll, before standing up and dusting himself off.

He looks up with a charming grin and reaches both of his arms out.

“Jump, little one. I’ll catch you.”

Elizabeth gulps and walks trepidly towards the edge. She steels herself by taking a few deep breaths, staring at Sundrose as she launches herself from the edge.

Time suddenly stood still as she registered the roar of the dragon was far too close for comfort. She could feel the sweltering breath as he opened his mouth, the stench of sulfur bringing tears to her eyes. Then came the scent of searing flesh as her pained screams filled the air. The last thing she heard was the cry of horror from the man below her.

She supposed as far as ways to die went, this was probably up there. Death by video game. That wasn’t a video game. And it wasn't a dream. Because she was in Skyrim and she was very, very, awake.

***

#skyrim #farkas #farkas x reader #farkas x oc #skyrim fanfic #farkas fanfic #farkas skyrim #skyrim farkas #elder scrolls #farkas companions #varricmancer #soulmate au

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therainroguefanfiction · 4 years

Text

⚜️ Change the Face of History (Skyrim); #2 Skyrim

📑 Table of Contents & Information ⤝ Backward

The sound of wagon wheels on cobblestone mixed with the snorting of a horse broke through my dreams. I became aware of my body jerking as I slowly came to. My eyes slid open but immediately closed. Why the hell is it so damn bright in my bedroom? Did I leave the curtains open? I’m sure I didn’t. I rubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands before blinking several times to clear my vision.

What… in the world…

The first thing I saw was the back of a man as he sat at the front of a wagon, holding tightly onto the reigns of two brown horses. I tried to move, but my hands were bound with a thick piece of cloth. This has got to be some kind of freaky realistic dream… I’ve got to stop eating so many tacos before bed, my god.

“Hey, you. You’re finally awake.”

My gaze snapped up, meeting the gaze of a blonde, blue-eyed man that sat across from me in the wagon. His hands, too, were bound. I wanted to speak, to ask where we currently were and what was happening, but my brain was far too overloaded and the words just wouldn’t come.

“You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there.”

Border? Imperial? Thief? My head is starting to spin. Did I try to cross the border into Mexico to steal an imperial from Britain? What… that doesn’t make any sense!

“Damn you Stormcloaks.” The ‘thief’ responded with a glare, his own wrists bound by the same type of cloth. “Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn’t been looking for you, I could’ve stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell.” He then turned his attention to me, leaning forward a bit. “You there. You and me – we shouldn’t be here. It’s these Stormcloaks the Empire wants.”

“Stormcloaks?” I echoed, brow furrowing.

“That’s right!”

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re saying,” I nearly cried, leaning forward only to throw myself back against the side of the wagon.

“Hey! Stop that!”

With a cry of surprise, the wagon tilted a bit and my body slipped over the side, tumbling to the cobblestone and dirt below. I landed on my upper back, legs caught on the wagon. I groaned in pain, letting my eyes slide closed. Fuck, that hurt.

“Woah, hold it!” Cried the man steering the wagon as he tugged on the reigns. The wagon stopped just to the side of me and my legs flopped to the ground.

A horse stopped to my right and a man jumped down, pulling a sword from his side as he stepped closer to me. “Get up, prisoner, or else!”

Prisoner? Oh yeah, I tried to cross the border and kidnap someone. Was I on drugs for that? I feel like I would remember something like that. Ain’t that a felony?

The man leaned down, grabbing ahold of my arm and pulling me up with little effort – which is honestly surprising because I’m not exactly skinny. “Back in the wagon,” he ordered, shoving me toward the back of the wagon. “And if you try to escape again, I won’t hesitate to strike you down.”

I scowled at him over my shoulder. “No need to be so rude, bro, damn.” He pushed me again and I huffed. “Alright, I’m going!” It was a bit of a struggle to climb into the wagon with my wrists tied together, but I managed it.

“Ouch!” The thief cried. “You stepped on my foot.”

“Oh, sorry,” I muttered, squeezing between him and the other man before settling back down in my seat, my shoulder blades aching.

The blonde furrowed his brows as he watched me. “You okay?”

“Peachy,” The wagon jolted as it started forward again. I glanced around, taking in the trees that lined the cobblestone road as I tried to look for anything familiar that might tell me where in the world I was. Does Mexico have forests?

The thief groaned, lowering his head. “This is all your fault, you damn Stormcloaks.”

“We’re all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief,” Blondie responded.

“Shut up back there!” The wagon driver barked, glaring over his shoulder at me, even though I didn’t even say anything.

The thief lowered his voice so as not to annoy the man further – he did have a sword, after all – and then he nodded his head toward the man sitting beside me who, I realized hadn’t said a word. I glanced at him, taking in his slicked-back camel brown hair and… oh, he’s been gagged. That explains why he hasn’t said anything. “And what’s wrong with him, huh?”

“Is he into BDSM or somethin’?” I asked, turning my attention back to the blonde.

“Watch your tongue,” he snapped in reply. “You’re speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King.” His eyes met mine. “And what is BDSM?”

“Oh, it’s a se – “

“Ulfric?” The thief interrupted with a surprised tone. I glared at him but he was too busy staring at the gagged man in disbelief. “The Jarl of Windhelm? You’re the leader of the rebellion!” He paused, his face turning quite pale. “But if they’ve captured you… Oh gods, where are they taking us?”

Blondie answered in a somber tone. “I don’t know where we’re going, but Sovngarde awaits.”

“Sovngarde?” I wondered. “Who is he?”

“I wouldn’t expect you to believe in Sovngarde, since you’re an Imperial, but you must have at least heard of it,” Blondie answered with a confused expression.

“Wait… I’m British?”

“It seems you know a lot that I do not,”

“Likewise,”

“No, this can’t be happening.” The thief clutched his hand as best as he could. “This isn’t happening.”

My thoughts exactly, I let out a puff of air, my head falling backward as I stared up at the baby blue sky, dotted with fluffy white clouds. My eyes slid closed as I tried to focus on my breathing, but that only made me more anxious. Just calm down, Rae, this is just a dream. I just have to enjoy the ride until I wake up. Don’t they say that time passes by a lot slower in dreams than in real life? I can’t really confirm since I can never remember my dreams, but I feel like I would remember something so vivid as this. Only time will tell, I guess.

“Hey, what village are you from, horse thief?”

“Why do you care?”

“A Nord’s last thoughts… should be of home.”

He seemed to think about that for a moment. “Rorikstead. I’m… I’m from Rorikstead.”

I felt eyes on me and I lowered my head, glancing around at the three men. It was the gagged male, staring hard at me and, holy shit, his gaze is intense. It’s like… like he can see through me to my feckin’ soul and is trying to set it on fire. A chill went down my spine and I forced myself to look away, trying not to focus on his gaze that was still staring at me.

“General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting!” Called a male voice from somewhere up ahead.

The headsman? Like, headless horseman? No, wait, that’s not right. I should know this, shouldn’t I? I’m British, after all! Wait, no… fuck.

The wagon was slowly moving underneath a footbridge made of stone, pulling into a small town, but it didn’t look anything like any place I had ever seen in my life. The first thing that came to mind was the medieval times and that movie about knights and jousting… what is it called again? Uh… A Knight’s Tale, that’s it! Damn, it’s been a long time since I watched that.

“Good. Let’s get this over with.” Responded another man who I assumed to be this Tullius guy.

The thief started to visibly panic, more so than he already was. “Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh. Divines, please help me.”

I regarded him curiously. Even though I have no fucking idea what this man is saying, I feel kinda bad for him. He’s clearly on the verge of a panic attack, something I’ve experienced a lot as a kid. “Hey,” I called, meeting his gaze. “Breathe in, hold for five seconds, breathe out.”

“What -“

“Just do it,” I ordered him, but then I saw that Shia LeBeouf gif in my mind and snorted.

“This isn’t a joke!”

“Fine, then. Suffer.”

He frowned, turning his head away from me to try and hide the fact that he was complying with my demand. With a nod, I turned my attention back to the front. After pulling under the footbridge, I noticed two horses sitting off to the side, their riders watching us enter. One was a man dressed like Leonidas’s father and the other was wearing a full suit of matte gold armor. Their clothes stood out among the rest of the soldiers, so I’m assuming they are the bosses here.

Blondie glared over his shoulder at them. “Look at him, General Tullius the Military Governor. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves. I bet they had something to do with this.”

“Elves?” I craned my neck to try and get a better look at them, but the man didn’t have pointed ears and the other person’s helmet hid theirs. Wait, this is a dream, right? What if Legolas is here? How dope would that be? Ooh, ooh, or Dobby!

The wagon pulled farther into town. People dressed in old-timey robes and plain, cloth outfits were standing outside the houses, watching as we were slowly pulled around the corner. The soldiers were dressed like they were auditioning for a role as an extra in 300. I’m beginning to wonder if the hamburger meat was laced with something…

“This is Helgen,” said the blonde with a faraway look in his eye. “I used to be sweet on a girl from here. Wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in. Funny, when I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe.”

I frowned at the sadness rolling off him in waves. Why did I feel such a strong sense of urgency? I wanted to help him, but I have no idea how. I’m way out of my element here.

“Who are they, daddy? Where are they going?”

I glanced over my shoulder as we passed one of the houses. A young boy sat on the wooden steps, taking in the scene before him with curious eyes. Beside him, leaning against the wooden railing, was a man. Most likely his father, I guessed.

“You need to go inside, little cub.”

“Why? I want to watch the soldiers.”

“Inside the house. Now,”

“Yes, papa.” The boy pouted before standing up and heading inside. Just as the door closed behind him, the wagon came to a stop beside the first one.

“Get these prisoners out of the carts,” A female barked. “Move it!”

“Why are we stopping?” The thief swallowed hard, his hands quivering as he looked around wildly.

“Why do you think?” Blondie responded, surprisingly calm. “End of the line,”

I swallowed. Now I’m starting to get nervous. There’s a tight knot being squeezed in my stomach, overpowering the pulsing of my skull and the throbbing in my shoulder blades. Any time you’d like to wake up, Rae, that’d be feckin’ great!

“Let’s go. Shouldn’t keep the gods waiting for us.” Blondie stood up, waiting for the two men at the end to do the same.

Normally, I would have scoffed at his comment about gods, being an atheist, but now was hardly the time. You know when you’re listening to a song and there’s that really calm buildup just before the bass drops and the song gets wild? That’s what this feels like.

“No! Wait! We’re not rebels!” Cried the thief as he climbed from the wagon with shaking legs.

“Face your death with some courage, thief.” Blondie scolded before turning to me and holding out his bound hands. “You too,”

My fingers clutched his as he pulled me up onto my feet. The small bit of contact was comforting, but the chill of nerves didn’t leave me. He hopped down from the wagon before offering me his hands again, but I shook my head and jumped down beside him. I knew that if I took his hand again, I probably wouldn’t let go.

“You’ve got to tell them!” The thief begged, voice shaking with terror as his gaze shot from Blondie to Ulfric and back again. “We weren’t with you! This is a mistake!”

Two people walked up to stand in front of us. A brunette male with a black book in one hand and a quill in the other – I immediately thought of Harry Potter for some reason. Stupid brain, this isn’t the time! Beside him stood a woman dressed from head to toe in silver and red armor, and a ridiculous helmet – she looks like a fuckin’ peacock. I wonder if she knows that.

“Step towards the block when we call your name,” she commanded, her voice full of authority. “One at a time,”

Blondie sighed from beside me. “Empire loves their damn lists,”

The brunette glanced at his book. “Ulfric Stormcloak. Jarl of Windhelm.”

Ulfric stepped past the two toward a group of prisoners off to our left and Blondie watched him closely, raising his voice. “It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric!”

“Ralof of Riverwood,”

Blondie stepped forward without a word, joining the group. Ralof… what a strange name. It suited him, though.

“Lokir of Rorikstead,”

The thief, Lokir, stepped forward, all but begging the two. “No! I’m not a rebel. You can’t do this!” Before they could even form a response, he shoved past the woman and took off running down the road, quite literally, for his life.

“Halt!” The woman ordered, but he didn’t oblige.

“You’re not gonna kill me!”

“Archers!”

On command, the three soldiers standing nearby slotted arrows into their bows before taking aim and releasing, planting the arrows into his back. I flinched as Lokir hit the ground face first and did not move again.

The woman’s eyes flashed angrily as they swept the crowd of prisoners before stopping on me. I nearly took a step back at her intensity but managed to hold my ground. “Anyone else feel like running?”

Why the fuck is she glaring at me? I didn’t try to run!

The brunette glanced at his list and then at me, his brow furrowed. “Wait. You there. Step forward.”

I glanced at the waiting archers nearby before slowly taking a step forward. The last thing I wanted was to make them think I’m trying to run. I don’t have any experience here, but something tells me that three arrows to the back are no joke. And what if they miss? They could hit me in the knee and that sounds terrible!

“Who… are you?”

Without thinking, I said the first thing that popped into my brain. “I’m Rain, and this is Jackass.”

The two exchanged a look before he jotted something down in his book. “You’re a long way from the Imperial City. What’re you doing in Skyrim?”

“Fuck, I wish I knew,” I answered honestly.

He regarded me curiously for a moment before turning to the woman. “Captain. What should we do? She’s not on the list.”

“Forget the list,” she folded her arms across her chest, metal clinking against metal. “She goes to the block.”

Wait, what? “Oi, oi, let’s not be hasty here. You can’t just make a list and then forget it. That’s… that’s blasphemy! That’d be like watching Vegeta apologize to Goku and then having them tell you to forget it, it doesn’t work!”

“Shut your mouth, prisoner.” She warned, narrowing her eyes at me.

“By your orders, Captain.” The man sent me an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. We’ll make sure your remains are returned to Cyrodiil. Follow the Captain, prisoner.”

“Who the fuck is Cyrodiil?” I cried in desperation, squatting down where I stood. “What is a Skyrim? Why are you all dressed like absolute idiots on Halloween at a frat party? None of this makes any damn sense!”

The Captain scoffed. “Feigning amnesia won’t save you. Guard!”

A rough, calloused hand grabbed my upper arm and yanked me up before pushing me toward the crowd. If he wasn’t still holding my arm, I would have tripped over my own, naked feet. Everyone was staring at me with a rainbow of expressions, but I just couldn’t care. Please wake up. Wake up, wake up, wake up, you stupid cow!

“Ulfric Stormcloak,” The man, Tullius, stepped up to stand in front of said man, looking up at him since he was taller. “Some here in Helgen call you a hero. But a hero doesn’t use a power like the Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne.”

Ulfric grunted something, but his words were impossible to understand because of the gag.

“You started this war,” he continued. “Plunged Skyrim into chaos, and now the Empire is going to put you down, and restore the peace.”

A strange, unearthly sound echoed across the sky and, judging from everyone’s reaction, I’m assuming it’s not a normal thing around here. I wasn’t sure why, but it felt… familiar.

“What was that?” The brunette questioned, eyes scanning the sky for the source.

“It’s nothing. Carry on.” Tullius ordered.

My gut disagrees if the painful clenching was anything to go by. Ulfric, who stood off to the side and a little in front of me, turned his head to look at me, his eyes boring into my own. I couldn’t look away and the dread I currently felt only got worse. Oh Deadpool, please save me from this nightmare…

⤞ Forward

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20thsunsdawn · 4 years

Text

Another Day, Another Dovah

The muffled sounds were the first thing that registered to your clouded mind, followed quickly by blinding light and splitting pain that radiated started in your head and radiated throughout your body. Groaning, you shut your eyes in an attempt to alleviate the sting brought by the light.

“Hey, you. You’re finally awake!”

The muscles in your face strained as you tried to smile at the familiar dialogue, and, rather than a giggle, what left your mouth could only be described as a horrible,

“Hehguhrrgg,” followed by a series of dry choking sounds.

“You were trying to cross the border, right? Heh, walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us,” Blur number one nodded towards blur number two, “and that thief over there.”

The voices were far too clear, and despite being unable to see very well, you knew the movement was far too smooth to be a game. Alright, no need to panic, probably just a very realistic dream. One with pain. And a nice breeze. And the feeling of a hard wooden seat beneath your ass.

“Damn you Stormcloaks. Skyrim was fine until you came along! Empire was nice and lazy…..if they hadn’t been looking for you, I could’ve stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell!”

He, the blurs were people, you realized groggily, nodded in your direction, “You there, you and me. We shouldn’t be here, it’s these Stormcloaks the Empire wants.”

Squinting at him, you continued to recognize the conversation, the blurs slowly forming the shapes you knew them to be.

“We’re all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief.”

You attempted to open your mouth again to question what fresh dream hell you had wandered into, only to be met with another gasping cough and a fresh wave of pain. Pain too real and lingering to be a dream.

“Shit, they must have hit you pretty hard,” The chuckle came from…Ralof, you realized, once again, who was looking at you with a sympathetic grimace. You wondered at what point you’d start seeing characters you failed to recognize. He looked beyond the cart to the Imperial soldier directing the horse.

“Hey, think we could get a swig of something back here for the lady?”

“Shut up back there!” He hadn’t even turned around to address the four of you. The cart was silent for a beat.

Wait, fuck, four of you, shit.

You attempted to side-eye the form sitting next to you, only to be met with another wave of pain and dizziness. You opted to turn your head to look at him instead, nearly being sent into another coughing fit when you realized just how he towered over you, despite also being seated. He glared at you from beneath the hair that had fallen out of his slicked back braids.

“What’s wrong with him, huh?” Lokir whispered towards Ralof.

Ralof immediately jumped to the Jarl’s defense, “Watch your tongue! You’re speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true high king!”

You watched as Lokir’s eyes bulged. “U-Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm?” He turned to Ulfric. “You’re the leader of the rebellion….and if they captured you…” His voice took on a whine. “Oh gods…where are they taking us?”

Ralof smiled grimly, “I don’t know where we’re going, but…Sovengarde awaits.”

“No, this can’t be happening. This isn’t happening!” Lokir’s breathing picked up as he began to panic.

If your throat hadn’t felt like dry parchment, and there was a chance you thought he might listen, you may have tried to warn him of his upcoming failed escape. Ralof attempted to bring him back to reality, which wasn’t exactly looking great. “Hey, hey…..What village are you from, horse thief?”

He sniffed, “Why do you care?”

“A nord’s last thought…should be of home.”

“Rorikstead…I..I’m from Rorikstead.”

Ralof nodded and turned to you. “And you?”

“Hekkhhhh”

Ralof’s head fell back with a laugh, the noise got a humorless chuckle out of Lokir, and an eyeroll from Ulfric, and the cart fell silent once more.

A few minutes passed in said silence, relatively comfortable, despite the situation. If you could keep your head on your shoulders long enough for Alduin to show up, you might make it out of this.

But would Alduin show up? What if you weren’t the Dragonborn? If you had taken their spot or they were in another cart…a shudder ran through you at the thought of the dragon waiting to make his appearance unless absolutely necessary.

While your mouth still couldn’t form anything aside from the sounds of the living dead, your throat was beginning to feel better, loosening despite the lack of moisture. It nearly went dry once more when one of the Imperial soldiers spoke up.

“General Tullius, sir! The Headsman is waiting!”

You heard the distant reply of the General from back in your cart. “Good. Let’s get this over with…” Lokir began to panic once more.

“Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh! Divines, please help me!” He whispered from beside Ralof, who was scrunching his nose.

“Look at him… ‘General Tullius, the Military Governor’…And it looks like the Thalmor are with him…Damn elves, I bet they had something to do with this!”

The surrounding mountains and trees began to morph into stone walls and houses, with people beginning to come out of their homes to watch the Stormcloaks be lead to their deaths. You turned back to Ralof when you heard his sigh.

“This is Helgen.” Another wry smile. “I used to be sweet on a girl from here…wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with the juniper berries mixed in…Funny, when I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe…” He gazed out at something beyond the cart once more.

“Who’re they, daddy? Where are they going?” You craned your head to look at the child, Haming, if you remembered correctly, and the man next to him, Torolf, his father.

“You need to go inside, little cub.”

“Why? I wanna watch the soldiers.”

The soft voice of Torolf grew firm, “Inside the house. Now.”

“Yes, papa.”

The carts ahead began to slow, the soldier at the helm of your cart letting out a “Whoa,” bringing the horse to a halt to avoid hitting the disembarking prisoners.

“Get these prisoners out of the carts. Move it!” A voice shouted from up ahead, the Imperial Captain. Lokir looked up, beginning to panic once more.

“Why are we stopping?”

“Why do you think? End of the line,” answered Ralof. “Let’s go, shouldn’t keep the Gods waiting for us.”

“No wait, we’re not rebels!”

“Face your death with some courage, thief.”

He spun around in his binds, facing Ralof. “You’ve got to tell them!” He gestured towards you, “We weren’t with you! This is a mistake!”

You stepped off the cart, looking like a newborn deer without use of your arms to steady your already weak legs. It felt like you had been bedridden for weeks, your muscles stiff from disuse and joints popping at every angle. Ralof turned back to look when your ankle made a particularly sickening sound after hitting the ground. You shrugged, but both snapped to attention when the Captain spoke once more.

“Step towards the block when we call your name. One at a time!”

“Empire loves their damned lists,” Ralof scoffed, shifting from foot to foot.

“Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm.” He stepped forward when Hadvar called his name, the heavy footfalls out of place in the peaceful town. Ralof yelled after him. “It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric!” Glancing down at the list, Hadvar’s face twisted.

“Ralof of Riverwood.” The two met each other’s eyes as one walked into line. Hadvar shook his head.

“Lokir…of Rorikstead.” You clenched your jaw as he opened his mouth to protest.

“No! I’m not a rebel! You can’t do this!” His feet were moving before he even finished talking, shoving his way past the captain and into the road.

“Halt!” “You’re not gonna kill me!” He kept running, getting about two building lengths away before the captain spoke again.

“Archers!” Turning away when you heard this, you were forced to listen as the arrows let loose, hit their mark, and Lokir fell to the ground with something between a groan and a gurgle. Stomach turning, you kept your eyes to the nearest structure, counting the bricks.

“Anyone else feel like running?”

Hadvar scanned his list twice before looking up, “Wait, you there.” You glanced up, eyes wide. “Step forward.” You avoided glancing behind him as you gingerly forced your feet to move.

“Who are you?”

“I-” Wheezing, followed by a cough. Damn, that hurt. “My name is _____”

His right eyebrow raised. “From?

“Ah…”

Fuck.

“(Town/ City name).”

Both his eyebrows raised. He glanced back down to the list, pursing his lips in thought.

“Captain, what should we do? She’s not on the list..” She scoffed.

“Forget the list, she goes to the block.” He scribbled something down.

“By your orders, Captain.” He looked back down towards your smaller form. “I’m sorry….We’ll have your remains returned to…” He looked back at the list. “…(Town/City name). Follow the Captain, prisoner.”

She brushed past you, and you got a great shot at Lokir’s body. He would have looked like he was sleeping, if not for the unnatural angle he was twisted in, and the pool of deep red forming around his body. You felt horrible, as the only thought in your mind being ‘well, at least he wasn’t facing you.’

You moved to stand in line beside Ralof, the man flashing you a small smile. You attempted to return the gesture, which most likely ended up looking as if you were about to lose the contents of your stomach. His smile grew, the corners of his eyes curling.

“Ulfric Stormcloak,” The moment was interrupted by General Tullius. “Some here in Helgen may call you a hero…But a Hero doesn’t use the power like The Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne”

Said ‘hero’ grunted, the gag muffling whatever insults he had at the ready.

“You started this war, plunged Skyrim into chaos, and now the Empire is going to put you down and restore the peace.”

You felt the roar of Alduin in your bones, it shook the ground, and everyone stumbled a bit, looking up at the sky. Some covered their heads in surprise. The world seemed to stand still, both Imperials and Stormcloaks staring in trepidation. Hadvar was the first to speak up.

“What was that?”

General Tullius barely let him finish, “It’s nothing,” He crossed his arms and adjusted his stance. “Carry on.”

“Yes, General Tullius!” The Captain took over. “Give them their last rights.”

The priestess stepped forward, raising her arms as she spoke, “As we commend your souls to Aetherius… blessings of the Eight Divines-”

The unnamed soldier with the red hair stepped forward. If he could have kept his mouth shut for a few more minutes, he may have been able to keep his life. “For the love of Talos, shut up and let’s get this over with.” He marched towards the block, the priestess looking on in shock.

“…As you wish.”

“Come on! I haven’t got all morning!” The Captain pressing him towards the ground, stepping on his back once he reached his knees. His head his the block.

“My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?” The headsman raised the axe and you looked back towards the ground as quickly as your body would allow.

The sound of the axe traveling through his neck and spraying the ground with blood was sickening. The sounds of the crowd were lost as you felt the world spinning, vaguely hearing Ralof commend his fellow soldier’s bravery as your ears stopped ringing.

“Next! The one in the rags!” That horrible sound again, longer this time, echoing throughout the mountains. Hadvar looked around.

“Th-there it is again. Did you hear that?” The captain ignored him, spinning around.

“I said, next, prisoner!” You looked up to see the eyes of the Imperial soldiers. Hadvar spoke again, “To the block, prisoner…Nice and easy.”

The only thing keeping your feet moving was the hope that Alduin was going to swoop in at any moment. You looked into Hadvar’s eyes as the Captain kicked you down to the block, the previous soldier’s blood still warm, staining your cheek as you rested your head. Deep breaths. In and out. The axe was raised above your form.

“What in Oblivion is that?”

“Sentries, what do you see?” The Captain asked, much calmer than the General.

People began screaming. “It’s in the clouds!” “Dragon!” The Captain turned around. The World Eater landed on the tower, the force of his wings closing knocking down the Imperial headsman.

For a moment, he watched, eyes scanning the crowd. They landed on you. Then he let out the loudest goddamned sound you ever heard, the sky swirling behind him as he plunged the world into chaos.

Hey y’all, I hope this is vaguely coherent at least? I’ve never done anything beyond academic writing really so I apologize if it’s awful. Sorry the dialogue in chapter one is pretty much lifted directly from the opening scene, I didn’t want to change too much on the ride to Helgen. as soon as i post this i’ll start working on some pages for some ocs I hope to include. feedback is always appreciated!

#skyrim #fic #reader insert #female dovahkiin

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