The rocking was what woke me. The clacking of hooves on stone, the creaking of wooden wheels as a wagon rolled down a road. I heard the whiny of horses, and smelt the crisp morning air and the stench of unwashed bodies. What'd happened to me? It's all I could think of. The last thing I remembered was crossing the border from Cyrodil back into Skyrim. He'd gone to Cyrodil too trade his arms and armor he'd just finished at his blacksmith shop back in Shor's Stone. He'd just crossed the border and was on his way home when….. Imperials! They'd come out of nowhere, swarmed the crossing like a nest frostbite spiders to a feast.

I opened my eyes, my head was lolling to the side, and my body rocked with the swaying of the wagon. My head hurt, like I was hit with a club. My vision was blurry at first as I sat up, my bones and muscles ached. Where am I? It's what I was thinking as I sat up. My hands were bound in front of me, and I was in a wagon with three others. The one across from me was a young lad, about the same age as me, and a fellow Nord. All three of us were kinsmen. The Nord in front of me had long blond hair that was wavy as it fell to his broad shoulders. His beard was short and trimmed, but tangled and greasy. Next to him sat a dirty man, covered in grime. His black hair was close cut, neat and clean. His clothes were rough spun, those of a poor man, and possibly a thief. He grumbled to himself as we road along. Next to me on the bench was a larger Nord. He had the same blond hair as the other, but his mouth was bound shut with cloth, as if they didn't want him to speak. I marveled at him.

"So your awake, Kinsmen." It was the Nord across from me who spoke, nodding around us. "Caught in that blasted imperial ambush like the rest of us." He nodded ounce again. The wagon was being tugged along the road, and driving it was an imperial soldier. Why? There was another wagon like ours, being driven by another soldier, and about a dozen more imperials surrounded us as we road down the cobble stone path.

"It's all your fault, damned stormcloaks!" It was the dirty black haired Nord, shouting at the man across from me. "The Empire was nice and lazy before you started this war. If it wasn't for your lot, I would've gotten away with that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell by now." He spat at the Nord, grumbling on about the empire and stormcloaks, and how both were useless. The Nord across from me bristled with anger, the corded muscles in his arms tightening.

"Watch your tongue horse thief! You're addressing Ulfric Stormcloak, the true high king of Skyrim!" The horse thief and my jaws dropped as we looked at the last passenger on the wagon. It made sense now, why his mouth was tied shut, and why the caravan was so heavily guarded. This is the man who killed the Emperor, shouted him to death with the ancient power of the Thu'um, or the Voice. He'd slaughtered the man, and led a bloody civil war that tore Skyrim apart. This was a hero of mine, a true son of Skyrim, and a true disciple of Talos.

The horse thief looked at the other stormcloak, his eyes full of fear. "Wait, Ulfric Stormcloak. Oh by the gods, where are they taking us?!" The man panicked, his head swinging in every direction as if he hoped some way to escape would suddenly appear. The stormcloak chuckled, his head shaking as he stared at the rotting boards of the wagons floor.

"Where do you think their taking us horse thief?" He looked up at the clouds above, his eyes distant and empty, like he was looking beyond into the void. "By the end of this day, we'll have joined our ancestors in Sovanegard." This sent the horse thief into frenzy. He frantically shouted everywhere, begging his innocence and that he wasn't a stormcloak. Pathetic, no son of Skyrim should act in such misconduct.

"Hey, horse thief. Where are you from?" The Nord rested his elbows on his knees, looking side long at the panicked man. "Why do you care?" The horse thief paused in his hysteria, puzzled by the question. "A Nords last thoughts should be those of home. So, where are you from?" The horse thief almost seemed ashamed as he looked down. "Rorickstead. I'm from Rorickstead." It was at that time that we all heard a shout rise from the leader of the caravan.

"General Taulius, sir. We have the prisoners." Ahead rose the walls of a town. The road opened down the streets of the town, and all along the walls and streets were soldiers of the Imperial Legion. "Welcome to Helgen friends. End of the line." The horse thief stared at his feet, eyes wide in panic again. "Akotosh, Arkay, Divines save me." He was mumbling on, a continuous prayer to the divines. My self, all I could think was a silent prayer to Talos. Forgive me Talos. It appears my death will not be in battle, but on the stone block of an execution.

"The Thalomor. I bet you those blasted elves had something to do with this." The stormcloak was staring in the direction of several black cloaked figures sitting on top of their brown and white horses. The gold skinned elves were watching the procession as if it was some twisted parade. The sick bastards! I quivered in rage, how dare they show themselves here. As if dying by and executioner wasn't bad enough, but in the presence of those spineless cowards made it terrible.

The Nord across from me seemed ounce again lost in reminisce, staring at the imperial walls. "It's funny how these walls ounce made me feel safe." He looked at the simple homes, their wooden frames poking out through the mortared walls, and the straw roofing rustling as the wind blew softly. "I wonder if Havager is still brewing that juniper berry mead?" I wanted to say something, but couldn't think of anything, what should I say, if anything. I finally decided. "Juniper berries, huh. Sounds tasty. Back in Shor's Stone, the best I got was a shipment of that Black-Briar mead that came into the inn every month." The Nord chuckled at this. "Oh, it was a damn good drink. He made it fresh and delicious." I chuckled with him at the absurdity of our conversation. Facing execution and here we were chatting about meads, and which was better. But strangely, it was comforting all the same.

The wagons came to a halt side by side in the town square. I could see the chopping block set up, a basket in front of it, and the black masked executioner stood there, his menacing axe thirsting for fresh blood. Simultaneously, myself and the stormcloak growled at the sight, and we both laughed at ourselves. He grinned at me, holding his bound hands out. "The names Ralof, friend. What is yours?" I clasped his hands in my own bound ones, smiling back. "Valeck. My names Valeck." Ralof smiled back as we stood, moving out of the wagon and climbed out to the ground.

Before us stood a young female imperial captain, and beside her a fresh faced lieutenant holding a list and quill. Ralof grumbled under his breath. "Damn imperials love their lists." The lieutenant stared at the two of us for a minute, then glanced at his list. "Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm." Ulfric nodded and stepped forward to the square were the imperials were herding the other prisoners. The lieutenant called of the horse thief's name and he stepped towards the pair, shouting. "I'm innocent, you can't do this. I won't die here." He sprinted past, and instantly was struck down by half a dozen arrows, all fired in unison. I may not have liked the Empire, but I had to admit that they were good when it came to unified movements.

"Anyone else want to try and make a run for it?" The female captain shouted to the few of us prisoners assembled. Ralof was called forward next, and then it was my turn. The lieutenant looked at his list, puzzled. "You, who are you?" I stepped towards him. "Valeck, of Shor's Stone. I'm a black smith returning from trading in Cryodil." The lieutenant looked at his list, then to the captain. "What should we do, he's not on the list." She glared at him then at me. "He goes to the block." The lieutenant began to protest, but was silenced by her stone glare. He sighed and looked back at me. "To the block prisoner. I'm sorry, but at least you'll die here at home, Kinsmen." I nodded at him, then followed the others to the dozen or so others gathered in the square. General Taulius stood before Ulfric. The aging man was almost a full head and a half shorter than the massive Nord, but he stood fearless, matching Ulfrics icy glare. "Ulfric Stormcloak. Some here in Helgen call you a hero, but a hero doesn't use a power like the Voice to murder his king." Taulius pointed a finger in Ulfrics face, shouting at him. "You plunged Skyrim into chaos, and the Empires going to put you down!" He stepped back from the man, spitting at his feet. He turned on his heel, walking to a group of high ranking soldiers. The female captain stepped forward, a priestess garbed in the tan robes of Akotosh with a gold sash around her waist behind her. "Give them their rights." The priestess nodded, holding her hands up to the sky. "As we commend your souls to Athirias, blessings of the the Eight Divines." Before she could go any farther, a red haired stormcloak strode forward, stepping directly in front of the block. "For the love of Talos, shut up and let's get on with it." The man growled menacingly at the imperials, the priestess cowering back and nodding. The female captain nodded in reply, placing a hand on his shoulder and forcing him to his knees. I could see him smile as she planted her foot on his back and pushed his face to the stone block. "today, my ancestors are smiling down on me. Can you say the same, Imperials?" The executioner lifted his axe as the stormcloak laughed, swinging it down in a deadly arc. The Nords dying laughter was silenced as the blade cut through him, his head tumbling into the basket. The imperial captain kicked his lifeless body to the side, clearing the block for the next victim. From somewhere in the group of stormcloaks, a female voice cried out, shouting insults at the imperials and calling them monsters.

"Next prisoner, you there." She pointed at me, motioning for me. The lieutenant from early began to protest again, but was silenced by the captain. He looked down, than motioned to me. "To the block, Prisoner. Nice and easy." I stepped forward, annoyed. It was time to get this over with. The captain pushed me to my knees, forcing my face onto the block with her foot. I looked up at the executioner as he hefted his axe into place, sighing. So this was it, huh. I guess it wasn't such a bad life. But I wish I'd met a nice girl, had a family. But I at least followed my dream. I'd always wanted to work as a blacksmith. Even left home from that scum hole of a city Riften, and run to Whiterun, where I'd apprenticed with a man named Gorven. He'd trained me, and he'd been a great man. Even started paying me when I turned 15, made me an official business partner.

The air was suddenly filled with a horrible roaring sound, and I saw a black shape come streaming down from the mountain, like a demon from Oblivion had burst forth, its massive black wings carrying it faster than anything imaginable. The creature roared out a horrible scream, and the executioner turned towards the sound. I heard the captain shout for the watchmen, but the monster was faster. It landed with a crushing thud at the top of the tower in the square. My breath stuck in my throat as I stared at it.

The monster was horrific. A face like a demon with reddish yellow eyes glared at all those gathered in the square, and its entire body was covered in glistening black scales. Spikes stuck out of its body everywhere, and the beats gaping mouth was full of sharp yellowed teeth, enough that even a Mammoth would've been shredded to pieces in a single bite. The beast unleashed a terrible roar, and the clouds above turned a crimson red, circling the beasts perch like a benevolent halo. Flaming rocks larger than a horse fell from the sky, destroying everything it touched.

My vision blurred as I was thrown from the block, crashing to the ground and rolling through the dirt. Ralof dropped to one knee beside me; his hands still bound, and helped me to my feet. We both charged from the square, racing to a watchtower across the burning street. As we burst through the opening, a massive figured hurled towards the door, slamming it shut behind us. I panted heavily as I crouched by the stone steps leading higher up. Ralof stood next to the man who'd tackled the door shut. It was Ulfric Stormcloak, the cloth removed from his mouth and his hands unbound. In his right hand, he clutched a steel war axe, it's blade already dripping blood, and his left had a wooden shield strapped to it.

"Ulfric, can it be true? Were the legends real, and was that truly a dragon?" Ralof spoke quickly, but I could tell it wasn't fear or panic. It was excitement, and he was bristling with the anxiety of the time. Ulfric looked back to the door. "Legends don't burn down villages." He turned to a female stormcloak, who cradled an injured comrade in her arms. He knelt beside the two, his hand glowing as he used magic to help heal the injured fellow. "Ralof, gather any able bodied men and head for the keep. Capture it so that we have an escape route." He helped the woman get the man too his feet, turning back to the two of us. "We're getting out of here while that dragon has the imperials preoccupied. Do not engage unless necessary. I don't want to risk any unnecessary deaths right now." He nodded to me. "You, Valeck was your name? Get up top. One of my men is trying to find a route out of here, and I want you to help him." I nodded to him and headed up, taking the stone steps two at a time.

I was about four steps from were a stormcloak was clearing rocks up on the next level when the wall behind him burst apart. I saw the snout of the dragon poke into the hole it'd made. I was barely able to duck as a geyser of flame exploded from its mouth, the scorching heat of it burning my skin. It was so hot I could barely breathe as the flame seared everything it touched. It only lasted a few seconds, and as soon as it stopped I leapt up, moving as fast as I could. I ran straight for the hole in the wall, jumping through it and crashing through the roof of the building below. As I landed, I curled into a ball and rolled, leaping up and down to the floor below and the outside. An imperial stood outside, along with a native in iron armor and a little boy. The dragon landed right behind the boy, its mouth opening and a glow forming in the back of its throat. I rushed forward, grabbing the boy in my still bound arms and throwing myself flat behind a crumbling wall. The fire lasted half a second and I heard the rushing of wind as the dragon lifted off and made its way to the next targets. The boy was crying as I handed him to the man in the iron armor, and looked to the imperial. It was the lieutenant from earlier, and he nodded at me, his sword in hand. "Still alive prisoner, good, then let's keep it that way. We need to meet up with General Taulius and ready a counter offensive." I rolled my eyes at the man. He tried to cut off my head for the sake of Talos, and you expect me to help him. I don't care if it was an army of Daedra attacking, I still wouldn't help fight the blasted demons.

The imperial began running to a group of more Legion soldiers, a few mages among them blasting off fireballs and streams of magic lightning into the air, and archers hopelessly launching arrows in a futile attempt to injure the beast. At least Ulfric had the brains to make a run for it before more of his men died in a hopeless fight against a beast that had leveled the town in less than an hour. I made a dash for the keep, the imperial a few legs ahead of me. I spotted Ralof charging in from the other end, an axe in hand as he jogged for the keep. The imperial halted midstride, staring Ralof down. "Ralof, what are you doing. Get out of here, or your dead." Ralof laughed bitterly.

"Stupid imperial, this fight isn't with you, so get out of my way before I paint the keep with your inards." Ralof gave his axe a few twirls, demonstrating his skill with the one-handed weapon. The imperial shook his head, charging past Ralof and towards a group of imperials running into the keep. I followed Ralof into another set of doors, into the keep.