Chapter 2

Her head hurt, no everything hurt. She felt her body swaying and heard the creaking of wooden axils. A wagon, her foggy mind informed her as it slowly pieced thoughts and information together. Memory was not so obliging, faces people and places swimming in and out of cohesion, then the pieces fell into place like the tumblers on a lock. The orders, the bandits, her squad, the beatings. Everything.

She pried her eyes open and through sheer will power forced her eyes to focus on the tree tops that moved slowly past her "hey you're finally awake" a rough male voice, thick with the accent that marked this province spoke.

"Bout time" it continued "you were trying to cross the border right, ran into that imperial ambush same as us and that horse thief over there." She dragged her eyes from the trees to the speaker who saw her golden eyes and pointed ears revealed as her blood matted platinum hair moved with the motion. The commiserating look melted away to be replaced with a snarl of aggression.

"Damn you Stormcloaks, Skyrim was fine before you guys turned up. The empire was nice and lazy" a new voice said, her eyes swiveled painfully to the dark haired half imperial sitting just down on the opposite side looking at the blue armoured Nords that shared the space.

"Look here, you and me we shouldn't be here" he continued looking over at her again. She turned away and watched as the mountains slid past, just hearing the legionnaire driving the wagon to yell at the Nords to shut up and something about Ulfric Stormcloak.

"A Nords last thoughts should be of home" the words floated to her and she smiled sadly Anyone's last thoughts should be of home she thought, letting her mind wander back to the family estate in Skywatch. She closed her eyes and could almost feel the heat of the sun on her skin and the sea breeze ruffling her hair, hear the gulls screaming from the nearby shore.

A stray tear beaded along her lashes but she quickly blinked them back. She was an Altmer, proud descendant of Queens and scion of the house Alkinus. She would not go weeping to her death. She would stare death in the eye and give it her best haughty glare before it took her. The walls of a town approached, her keen eyes picked out the armoured imperial on the wall and she recognized him.

General Tullius, military arm of the empire in this frozen province. She had met him twice and had though him to be a little to zealous, he had reminded her of her sister. Pompous bitch that she was. The gates opened and her eyes widened, there sitting on a fine black mare was her sister, Elenwyn Alkinus, ambassador to Skyrim, once beloved twin and now jealous sister.

Elenwyn looked up at the commotion smirking at the sight of the bound and gagged Ulfric. Elenwyn's eyes ran along the other prisoners and stopped on hers. They widened slightly in shock then narrowed in a strange mix of triumph and panic. To anyone else the movements would have been unnoticeable, but to her twin who had been raised alongside her in the dance of politics since the day they were born the look was unmistakeable. The tiny spark of hope that her sister still harboured a shred of familial loyalty or love died.

The wagons drew to a halt and numbly she stood, swaying as her wounds and sore muscles protested the motion. Gingerly she hopped down and stood with the others. She towered over most of them, her natural height granting her a lovely view of the thief's escape attempt and her sisters smirk as she approached. Elenwyn pulled the legate aside and pointed haughtily at her, gesturing succinctly and finally before turning away.

The legate looked straight at her and spoke "Seems you got yourself in a little trouble elf." She told the elven woman "I have orders to execute you immediately. You will be given no rites and your remains will be left in the wilds for the wolves. Ambassador Elenwyn has instructed that you die nameless and forgotten."

The elf stared at the legate, rage building in her heart. Then turned to see her Sisters retreating back as she rode out of the gates and away. She opened her mouth, her throat dry and cracking from lack of water. "I am Erenwyn Alkinus, first of my name and scion of my house." She tried to say but little more than a rasping sigh left her lips, a memento from her screams of pain.

The young officer holding the list looked at her sadly "For what it's worth I'm sorry" he told her before making a mark on the damned parchment.

She watched as the first Nord was slain, defiant till the end and she looked up at the sky, it was soothing, a clear cloudless blue now, and the sun shining gently down. "Next the high elf" the legate called, bringing her from her reverie.

"To the block prisoner, nice and slow." The officer told her taking her left bicep. She shook herself free and began to walk forward, her head held high like the princess she was. A roar echoed off the mountains causing the humans to look around in fear "What was that?" a prisoner asked.

"I said next. Prisoner." The legate ground out, she moved forward until she stood before the block, the curved wood glistened with fresh blood and the previous prisoner's head stared angrily at the sky from the basket it had fallen into.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and she turned to look at the legate who was trying to force her to kneel. She glared a warning and the hand retreated. Slowly and with as much grace as she could manage she knelt and as she lowered her head whispered in her nearly dead voice "I go to meet my forebears. Auri-el recived my soul."

She laid her head on the block, feeling the blood seep into her hair and paint her skin. She could see the executioner raise his axe and she turned her gaze past him to see a lone bird sweeping through the air, an eagle perhaps. The bird grew larger and larger, a roar now shaking the ground. In a blink the thing smashed into the tower, the air filled with the sounds of people screaming and the word "Dragon!" being cried in fear.

The beast laughed then roared, a palpable force swept towards Erenwyn, hitting her with the strength of a war hammer, knocking her from the block and the axe from the executioner's hands. From where she lay on the ground dazed she could see the gleaming blade resting an inch from her nose.

Groggily she reached forward and severed the ropes bindings her hands. Then she stood, heaving the axe with her, and running in the direction of a tower that held several Stormcloaks. They glared at her as she slammed the door shut and she returned the gesture, hefting the weapon in one hand and lighting up a sparks spell in her other. They backed away from her with growls and threats.

The tower shook and the heat of an inferno blasted down the stairs as the dragon breathed flames through the newly made hole, killing several of the Nords on the upper steps. With one last sneer at her fellow prisoners she ran up the stairs and with a long leap cleared the hole melted through the tower by the flames and fell through the charred rafters of a nearby house.

Groaning she heaved herself upright and staggered down the stairs, rushing forward and dragging a child out of the way of a blast then pushing past the young officer who shouted something after her. Only one thing rang in her mind escape. She hid against a wall as the dragon landed and bathed the town in flames once more. Then she sprinted through gates, her memory guiding her through to the dungeons of the keep. The logic being to hide from the beast underground until it was safe to emerge.

Vaguely she heard the imperial and a Stormcloak arguing behind her but she paid no mind, bashing through the barracks door before slamming it shut and leaning up against it. For a moment she just leaned and breathed, her wounds stinging and aching from her recent activity.

Sucking air into her tortured lungs she dug deep into her magica and powered a weak healing spell. Her more serious wounds closed slowly as she breathed out, feeling her magic pouring into her body. In the end she was nearly completely drained of magica but she was much healthier. Then she stood and moved away from the door towards the weapons and armour sitting near a chest.

Her old heavily enchanted robes had been taken so all she had were the ragged remains of her underclothes. She staggered over to the chests and dug around in them until she pulled out a set of imperial light armour, quickly she shrugged into the ill-fitting pieces, the fit her height but were too big for her slender build, meaning it sat uncomfortably on her shoulders, but it would do.

The door moved behind her and she turned, seeing the young officer who looked pale and shaken from the carnage outside. To Erenwyn it reminded her of scenes in the Great War when she had fought as a member of the mage forces, memories she wished to bury.

"If you intend on following me, I would advise against it, I'm not exactly popular" she told him, her voice harsh as a ravens and not yet healed. The young man shrugged and followed her through the hall ways.

They fought through more of those infernal racists and deep into the dungeons, she pushed her aching body to its limit until she felt the sun shine on her face once more.

She swayed, her energy slipping through her fingers like water, through the roar in her ears she didn't hear the young officer asking if she was alright, nor did she feel him catch her as she collapsed, though through her fading vision she did see the word turn upside-down as she was slung over someone's shoulder. The even pace of his strides lulling her into blissful unconsciousness.

A/N- So this is where her journey began, still a low priority story closet but I hope you enjoy.

Cheers! Mystborn