Welcome! This is going to be a casual story that I write at my own pace, because timing myself has never worked well, and I'm a full time college music major. That said, I hope I catch the eye of a few readers and write an enjoyable story for you all and myself :) Onto the fic!

What wretched luck.

Years she had spent running. From what and to what end, she could not say. It felt right, to escape her past, her isolation, the facts… She could not handle the thought of them. She had seen death, brutal murder not four feet away from her, brought forth by those she once trusted. Many familiar bodies littered the ground as she ran, and she had barely escaped.

And so, she kept escaping. But now, with something simple that she had accomplished many times, she was at the mercy of the divines. Crossing a simple border. That's all she had to do. Leave one land that had been thoroughly explored, and enter another, one she had heard of in her trips through Morrowind.

Skyrim.

Now, as she awoke in a confused haze, she found her hands bound and her body dressed with rags of what the robes once were. She pushed herself up from her half-seated half-slouched-over position, her back aching in protest and her head pounding. Unsure of where she was or what was happening, she pulled at the binds, testing them, before a voice caught her attention.

"Hey, you! You're finally awake." She looked over at the man sitting across from her on the carriage, slightly alarmed by his rough call. His voice was low and a bit gravely, matching his disheveled appearance. His yellow hair and pale face was covered in dirt, his beard nearly brown from it. Green eyes looked over her with interest. "You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us and that thief over there." He nodded his head to his left, indicating the man sitting near him. She looked over at the thief. He had sharp, dark features, his eyes heavily tinted with the darkness of exhaustion. His hair was black, and he too was covered in dirt. She wondered if she looked the same, right now. Striking blue eyes looked up at her, filled with annoyance and uncertainty. He turned to the man that had been speaking, glaring.

"Damn you Stormcloaks. Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy." He spat, his tone bitter. His voiced smoothed out and quieted slightly. "If they hadn't been looking for you, I could've stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell." He turned his gaze back to her, his expression unreadable. "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."

"Shut up back there!" She turned her head quickly to her left to see a soldier in Imperial armor leading the carriage, which followed another full of men and women dressed much like this man with yellow hair. She looked behind them at the Imperial on the horse, following their carriage as support. She had never once heard of the Stormcloaks during her time in Cyrodiil. She didn't even know what they represented.

"And what's wrong with him, huh?" She looked back over as the thief motioned toward the last man on the carriage. He, too, had yellow hair. His features seemed similar to those of the first man, with slightly sunken eyes and a strong jaw. He looked up at the thief, mouth bound as well as ankles. His armor was drastically different from the others.

"Watch your tongue!" The angry response was unexpected, causing her to jump slightly in surprise. "You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King."

"Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You're the leader of the rebellion!" She almost rolled her eyes. With the last name of Stormcloak, was it really necessary to point out? "But if they've captured you…Oh gods, where are they taking us?" Suddenly, she could relate to this thief. A rebellion against the Empire. And here they were, in Imperial hands.

And she was with them.

"I don't know where we're going, but Sovngarde awaits." Oh, well she certainly didn't like the sound of that. Not for knowledge of Sovngarde, but his tone spoke of a bleak end.

Years of escaping…for this? What was happening? Too much information was being thrown at her far too fast.

"No, this can't be happening, this isn't happening!" The thief's' fear was contagious, though she wouldn't dare speak it aloud. She could feel it, throughout her body. Her heart was beating strongly, quickly, pumping adrenaline through her body as she was tempted to push herself out of the carriage and run. It had become difficult to breathe, and she looked forward again as she waited for something to save her. A pack of wolves, a bear, anything to cause enough of a distraction.

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

"Why do you care?"

"A nords last thoughts should be of home." The statement was spoken softly, and she looked down at her hands. It was a good thing, not being a nord. She had no home to think of.

"Rorikstead. I'm…from Rorikstead."

"General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting!"

"Good, let's get this over with." The two Imperials on horses spoke at the gate as they went through. Nausea hit her like an avalanche, her luck had run dry. There would be no escaping, now.

She was going to die.

"Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh. Divines, please help me!" The thief muttered in panic, his eyes wide and fearful. Yet as he finished calling to the gods, she couldn't help the bitterness that ran through her. She had no faith left.

"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 yellow haired man said, his voice venomous. She wasn't sure whether she should feel some sort of offence to his generalized term for mer, but brushed it off. What did it matter, anyway? She looked past the thief to where the golden shine of elven armor gleamed. Yes, she recognized the Thalmor from Cyrodiil, as well. Altmer from Summerset Isle, who had taken control of Skyrims' Empire. All of her encounters with them had been fairly pleasant or neutral, but she could understand his bitterness, as a native of this land.

Shouldn't she, then, be upset? But she wasn't. That was long ago, before it ever concerned her.

She looked forward again as silence passed. They rode through a narrow path, houses running behind her and a stone wall in front of her. It gave a cozy feeling. Safe.

"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." He said softly, sadness in his voice. The carriage turned slightly to the right, and she caught a glimpse of a young boy on a porch.

"Who are they, daddy? Where are they going?"

"You need to go inside, little cub." The man spoke with warmth, and she could have smiled, if the threat of death weren't so close to her.

"But why? I wanna watch the soldiers!"

"Inside the house. Now."

"Yes, papa." She watched with sadness as the boy stood to leave, until the carriage turned and she could no longer observe the small house and young child. That's when she saw it. The large axe, held in the hands of a large, muscular man with a hood. All too quickly, the panic hit her with new vigor.

She still barely understood what was happening.

An Imperial woman barked orders at her soldiers as the prisoners of the other carriage were herded off.

"Why are we stopping?" The thief looked over at the yellow-haired man with desperation, as if he could change the situation.

"Why do you think? End of the line." The statement left a heavy, cold feeling in the pit of her stomach. Their carriage stopped all too soon, and she could hear the thiefs' labored breaths from where she sat. "Let's go, better not keep the gods waiting for us." And he stood, with no fear in his eyes. Only acceptance. She followed, as did the thief and Ulfric Stormcloak. Despite the thiefs' pleading, they were herded off the carriage one by one, standing in front of two Imperial soldiers. One held a quill in his right hand, a list in his left. The other spoke, her voice harsh and commanding.

"Step towards the block when we call your name, one at a time."

"Empire loves their damn lists." She heard from her left, where the yellow-haired man stood.

The Stormcloak leader was called first, and he walked over without a glance. Her yellow-haired companion was next, Ralof of Riverwood, leaving her feeling alone and uncomfortable.

The thief was next. "Lokir of Rorikstead." The thief stepped forward.

"No! I'm not a rebel! You can't do this!" He ran, and for a moment, she watched in awe, as if he would possibly escape, as if it were possible for her…

An arrow pierced his back. His scream rang in her ears. Her heart dropped as his body did, and her eyes slid over to the soldiers in front of her.

"Anybody else feel like running?" The woman asked, looking directly at her. She kept her face blank, but her heart sank. A simple thief, looking to escape the land that was quickly turning into her hell. She spent a moment to wonder why she even bothered leaving Morrowind.

"Wait, you there. Step forward." Her attention was drawn to the man with the list, hesitating before following his command. "Who are you?"

"Ariel." She replied tensely, her voice barely above a whisper. The man looked down at the list in his hands, then back up.

"I've never seen an elf so..pale. Are you a wood elf? No…you must be a dark elf." She would have assured him she was neither, if he would have cared to listen. Instead, he turned to the woman. "Captain, what should we do? She's not on the list." The woman stared at her with suspicion and annoyance.

"Forget the list." She said quickly. "She goes to the block."

Hatred flared, for only a moment. How dare she assume she was an outlaw?

Was she? It didn't matter, as they seemed unable to even identify her race.

"By your orders, captain." The soldier looked back at her, his features softening. "I'm sorry. We'll make sure your remains are return to Morrowind." Close enough. She thought bitterly. "Follow the captain, prisoner." And she did, stopping only when she joined the group of Stormcloaks. She paid no attention as the general addressed the leader of the Stormcloaks, too occupied by the sight of the block, covered in old blood. There had been a beheading recently, after the last rain had fallen. Her blood would soil that block, soon.

Fate had finally caught up to her, it seemed.

Suddenly, a strange sound was heard from the sky. Everyone looked up in curiosity, and she heard someone mutter "What was that?" from her right. She looked over to see the soldier that had apologized to her making his way to the block, frozen for only a moment as he searched the sky.

"Nothing. Carry on." The general commanded. The captain responded and commanded the priestess to give them their rites. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Rites. What good were they, now? The priestess began, holding her hands up toward the sky as if speaking directly to the divines.

Luckily, for Ariel, the man to her right cut the young woman off.

"For the love of Talos, shut up and let's get this over with!" He said, stepping forward to the block.

"As you wish." She responded, her tone a mixture of surprise and anger.

"Come on! I haven't got all morning." He said strongly, the captain approaching him. Ariel could only hope to be so courageous. Her natural, sarcastic side wished she could have met this man on the road, in better circumstances than this. The captain pushed him to his knees, and further until his head rested on the block. "My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?" No response was given, but Ariel found herself wishing with all her power that she had even a single clue what the hell was going on, and why she was dying for it.

The executioner lifted the axe high above his head dramatically, and she tried her best to tear her eyes away, but as the axe swung down, her eyes followed.

His head fell neatly into the basket on the other side of the block, and the captain nudged his body away from the block with her foot. It was a clean cut. Blood poured out of his neck onto the block and the ground. She truly felt like she would be sick, her body shaking and thoughts too loud and quick to sort through as shouts of discontent were heard from the Stormcloaks surrounding her.

"As fearless in death as he was in life." She looked to her right at the man, Ralof, who stared down at his fallen comrade with sadness.

"Next, the elf!" Panic. Pure panic. She almost didn't hear the sound from before, echoing again through the sky. Whatever it was couldn't save her, and as the soldier questioned it again, the captain repeated her order.

"To the block, prisoner. Nice and easy." The soldier said, but his eyes looked at her with tenderness. Had she cared, she would say he didn't want to see her die. She was only slightly grateful for that. Ulfric Stormcloak and Ralof watched her, she could see, as she stepped forward to the block. Standing in front of it, as the other man did, she locked eyes with the soldier. It calmed her, knowing someone cared that she was about to be killed for nothing. But as she felt the hand on her back, roughly pushing her forward, the feeling was gone. She turned her head to the side, though she immediately regretted the direction of choice as she locked eyes with the executioner, his bloody axe in his hand. She looked to the right of him as he brought his other hand to the axe, raising it slightly. Her eyes found a flag, moving freely in the wind, blowing snow off the mountain behind it…where a large…black creature flew…

And somehow, she knew, as a roar accompanied its appearance, that it wasn't an ordinary bird.

"What in oblivion is that?" The general yelled, the creature landing on the tower and looking down at them as the executioner raised the axe over his head. The force of the creature landing shook the ground so violently that the executioner lost balance and fell back, giving her the perfect view of the horrifying creature before her.

"Dragon!" At the yell, the dragon spoke; sending a wave of what must have been air at them. She was knocked to the ground, away from the block and the dragon, but her head hit the stone with such force that her vision blurred and she felt her consciousness threaten to leave her. Her ears were left ringing from the noise, but she could dimly hear the screams from around her.

"Hey, elf! Get up! Come on, the gods won't give us another chance!" She felt a hand wrap around her arm and she was hauled to her feet, Ralof entering her blurred vision. "This way!" He pulled her behind him to a tower nearby, where he slammed the door shut behind her the moment she was clear. "Jarl Ulfric, what is that thing? Could the legends be true?" As her sight cleared, Ariel observed the man, now completely unbound.

Ulfric spoke, his words slow and his voice incredibly low.

"Legends don't burn down villages." He said simply, his eyes showing little fear. Ariel looked behind her for anything to cut her binds, finding wounded Stormcloak soldiers instead. "We need to move, now!" He yelled, immediately after another roar could be heard from outside the tower. Ralof turned toward her.

"Up through the tower, let's go!" He commanded, and she followed without a word. Anything to get out of this mess. She couldn't decide as she ran up the stairs whether she would have rather died at the block, or by dragon.

The block was winning.

"Just need to move some of these rocks." A soldier said, leaning down to push one out of their way, but the wall crumbled. She nearly ran into Ralof, who stopped short on the steps as the dragon breathed fire and fried the soldier. The dragon flew away immediately, uninterested in life and looking rather to cause destruction instead. Ralof motioned for her to follow as he continued up the steps to the blockage, looking out the new window.

"See the inn on the other side? Jump through the roof and keep going!"

"Are you nuts?" She finally said, looking at him as if he had told her to jump on the back of the dragon.

"Just go! We'll follow when we can!" He all but pushed her out, and it took everything she had to not scream as she flew through the air, crashing painfully through the open roof and onto the floor, which crumbled and gave way to the second floor. She took a moment to groan, her body aching all over, but found energy to push herself up as she again heard another roar. She stood, gaining her balance as she squinted for an exit through the smoke and flames, her lungs burning in protest to the heat and debris. Just as she had begun a coughing fit did she find the doorway, and she forced her way through to be met with a familiar soldier, boy and a citizen of the keep.

"Still alive, prisoner?" She looked up at the soldier who addressed her. "Stay close to me if you want to stay that way." He stated, turning to give orders to the man and boy. She could not help to question his words as the dragon landed down the road, and all four of them took cover from the fire it breathed in their direction. "Come on, prisoner!" He stood and started running as soon as the dragon took flight, and she had no choice but to follow, ignoring all the calls of the soldiers around her, captains yelling orders and families screaming in terror. She followed him between buildings, following his orders as he scrambled to avoid the dragon as much as she. "Stay close to the wall!" He yelled, the dragon landing on the wall to their left. Its wing was huge, arching over the wall and over her, nearly touching her. She was terrified, moving away from it and toward the soldier as it continued its attack before flying off again. "Okay, let's go!" He moved again, leading her through destroyed houses and away from the road. They reached what she assumed was a place of safety, as he assured her they were almost at their destination, when a familiar face ran through from another direction. "Ralof, you damn traitor, out of my way!"

"We're escaping, Hadvar. You're not stopping us this time!"

"Fine, I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde!"

"You, come on! Into the keep!" Ralof yelled, beckoning for her to join him. The soldier ran to another door.

"With me, prisoner! Come on!" She froze, both men calling for her. The soldier looked panicked, continually calling for her, telling her she would be safe. Ralof called out not to trust the Imperial. With so much pressure, she ran left toward the soldier, following him into the keep. He slammed the door shut and backed away from it before taking a look around the room. "Looks like we're the only ones who made it." He said, a bit of sadness in his voice. "Could that thing really have been a dragon? The creatures from stories and legends?" He seemed to be talking more to himself than her, but no matter. She wouldn't have had an answer for her anyway. Suddenly, he turned his gaze to her. "We better get moving. Come here, let me see if I can get those bindings off." Finally. She moved closer, and he brought his sword to the ropes, cutting them neatly. She was so close to him, she took this moment to examine him.

He looked just like all the other imperial men she had met in Cyrodiil. Not as tall as Nords, but with a wider facial structure and wider set eyes, which happened to be brown. His hair was a mix of yellow and brown, brushed back and falling to his jaw line. It was hard to miss the large muscles on this man, watching them bulge as he brought his arms forward to release her.

She examined her red wrists, rubbing them lightly from the ache. There were angry red marks there, sure to bruise. If they had the chance, of course. She stepped back from him, not meeting his eyes. She wanted to ask him all of the questions she had in her head, why she was even there, what was happening, but she could not form the words. In fact, she could barely find her voice.

"Search the chests on that side of the room. Hopefully on of them will have some armor for you. Or, at the very least, clothes." He said, moving to her left. She glanced around the room for the first time, spotting the two chests to her right. The room was simple, with four beds and a desk surrounded by bookshelves. Directly across from her, a gate stood blocking their exit. Three steps brought her to the first chest, set at the end of the only bed on this side of the room. Attempting to lift the top brought no results, the lock mechanism holding the top on tight.

"It's locked." She muttered, but he heard her, not even glancing over.

"Try the other one." She abandoned the locked chest and moved to the last chest, lined against the wall and covered with a fine layer of dust. Lifting the top, she was grateful for the sight of Imperial armor.

"I found some armor!" She announced, a wave of relief washing through her. At least now she'd have a chance of protection.

"Quickly, get changed and grab a sword. Let me know when you're finished." He said, moving to where the bookcase was, blocking his view from her. She quickly removed the rags and pulled on the armor and boots, hooking the straps on the top piece of the jacket. The armor fit loosely on her tiny figure, obviously having been made for a lean male.

"Ok!" She said, turning to the weapon rack closest to her. She grabbed a sword, unsure of what its alloy was and unable to care. She was only grateful that it wasn't all that heavy, though holding the weapon felt strange. She was far more used to her little elven dagger, which she had purposefully left in Morrowind. She had brought with her an iron dagger instead.

A brief thought flickered to where that dagger might be, at this moment.

"Here." She turned, sword in hand, back to the soldier. He held out a leather helmet to her. "It was in another chest. You'll need all the protection you can get." He stated, moving to the gate that was not too far from her. She slipped the helmet on, sheathing the blade in the leather sleeve on her hip as the soldier opened the gate. "Come on, let's see if we can get out of here." He said, pulling the chain next to the gate and watching as it ascended slowly. She followed him close through the halls, unsure of whether or not she made the right choice in following the Imperial man. He seemed nice enough, but there was a reason for every rebellion, right?

They walked in silence, save for the thunking of their boots hitting the floor. They walked, but it was swift, with the threat of death still hanging in the air. Soon, the hall opened up to a small room, barred with another gate.

"We have to get out of here."
"I know. I just need a minute to catch my breath." The soldier looked back at her.

"Hear that? Stormcloaks. Maybe we can reason with them." He said softly, moving to the left where the gate chain was. Ariel watched as the gate lifted and the Stormcloaks moved from around the corner, their eyes searching for whoever opened the gate. They both unsheathed their weapons, glaring at the sight of Imperial armor. "Now wait a minute, we just want to-" He was cut off by the cry of the male Stormcloak, who rushed at him with his sword. Her Imperial friend quickly unsheathed his and blocked the attack, pushing the man back. "You want to die? Fine!" He yelled, anger in his voice. Her heart rate jumped again as the female rebel looked over at her. She knew she had no choice, her hand reaching for the sword at her hip, barely hearing the sharp shiiing of the metal against the sheathe. The sword felt so wrong, and she moved sloppily as she pushed forward and blocked the downswing of the Stormcloak. Her moves were defensive as the woman angrily swung at her, and Ariel realized she have to do something or face death as a coward.

Gritting her teeth, she took the first opening she could find, the woman raising the sword high above her head. Ariel took one step forward, shoving the blade at her stomach. She hadn't felt any resistance. She thought she'd missed, her heart pounding as she awaited the sword to come down on her head. But it never did, and she looked up to find her blade planted deep within the abdomen of the woman. She met the rebels' eyes, watching as the life drained from them. The sword dropped to the ground, her body became limp. She fell, nearly taking Ariel with her.

"Are you alright?" She didn't hear his question. She watched as the last breath left the body, as the woman became completely, peacefully still.

She'd hurt people before. She had to, as a traveler. Bandits, thieves, misunderstanding guards. She'd wounded them before until they could no longer pursue her, and only if she could not sneak by them.

But never had she killed a person.

The soldier came over, ripping her sword out from the dead soldier. "Never killed, before, eh? I recognize that look. Now's not the time to fall into shock. We need to get out of here." He said softly, holding the sword out for her. She hesitantly took it, unfazed by the blood as she sheathed it again. "You should take her gauntlets." He muttered, moving to open the gate on the other side of the room. Bending down, she tried not to feel like a horrible being as she stripped the lifeless body of her gloves and slipped them on. They were still warm, but she didn't allow herself to be bothered by this thought. She wanted to live another day. "Ready? Let's go."

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Hope you all enjoyed this chapter. I think I'll have a lot of fun writing this story :) I don't care for rating. But please, review, and if you like it, follow it!

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