#my joints hurt and I’m still coughing and wheezing and dizzy all the damn time

[20thsunsdawn]

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!