#the reins are put in your hands but you're bound to the cart

[dragonzzilla]

The whole "A male is only born to the Gerudo once in a hundred years" presents a fascinating psychological crucible

By accident of birth, you're othered from the rest of your people. There is literally no one else like you. No one alive at least. You are born in the shape and in the shadow of long dead monarchs, Great Men.

But what does it mean to be a man in a society that is otherwise comprised entirely of women (I do not believe in gender essentialism; but I do believe in societal pressures). You are a boy and are constantly reminded of it. A boy without a father, without brothers; and when you become a man, you will never have sons of your own or even nephews. You're a single drop of masculinity in a ocean of mothers, sisters, wives, daughters, nieces; awash in femininity but forever separate from it. You are a man and that makes you king.

Before you're out of swaddling, you're placed on a pedestal. Elevated, in some regards. Afforded the greatest privileges available to your people. But they're not quite your people. However thinly it is presented, there's always going to be a degree of separation from everyone you know and care about. Your otherness is constantly reinforced, celebrated even. You're going to be a king. And you don't get a choice in the matter. You must stand alone, forever.

There are other men in the world, but they are not Gerudo. There are Gerudo, but none of them are men. The only people who could understand your struggle exist only as imperious statues and aspirational legends. They are Gerudo men, just like you, but they're not people anymore. They are kings, conquerors, shapers of history, children of destiny, great men. You are a man and that means you are destined for greatness.

Try not to crack under the pressure.

[anxious-alastor]

Thieves and Thanes ‖ Chapter One

What if the last Dragonborn was really two people?

The rumbling of wooden wheels against a dirt road littered with loose stones. Reins snapping, birds chirping, and the slow awareness of it all.

His eyes met the blue ones of a stormcloak soldier who sat across from him. The stormcloak's hands were bound. All of them were. There were two others in the cart. A rather meek man who couldn't seem to calm his nerves and the rebellion's "true High king", Ulfric Stormcloak. The jarl had his mouth bound shut.

"You're finally awake." The stormcloak across from him offered a smile.

"Who are you?" His head ached, he could taste blood on his lips as he spoke.

"The name's Ralof," The blonde nord chuckled slightly. "You got a nasty gash on your head there."

"Where's Tsadaarji?" He questioned, trying to look around but quickly getting dizzy.

"You mean the Khajiit? She's in the cart in front of ours." Ralof nodded towards the cart just past their driver's Horse. "What's your name?"

"Grimnal.." he sighed as he saw his companion, fast asleep in the front cart.

"Well, we're going to Sovngarde today, brother."

Ralof continued to speak as their other acquaintance who was able to talk began frantically praying. The wheels of the cart in front of them woke the sleeping khajiit just as they passed through the gates. Their eyes met Grimnal's, questioning and helpless. He simply shook his head.

The carts stopped and the Nord from Rorikstead became even more frantic. Eventually the man, who Grimnal had now found out was named Lokir, took off down the road they had just been on. This earned him an arrow through the neck.

"You, who are you?" The question made him pause, was he captured on accident?

"Grimnal of Falkreath."

A Nord of tall and muscled stature. His skin was pale in comparison to his dark hair that draped along his shoulders. Black warpaint circled his eyes, making the icy grey tones even more vivid. A short beard covered the lower half of his face. What appeared to be scars from a wolf attack sat diagonal across his features.

"And you?" The man turned to the small khajiit.

"Tsadaarji."

A suthay khajiit, shorter than both man and mer and more catlike than the typical khajiit that wandered Skyrim. Their fur was a deep brown with dark speckles and stripes laced beneath ivory colored markings. Paws, tail tip, chin, and neck looked as if they had been dipped in cream while their ears were black. Three piercings in total, one ring on their right and two more on their left ear. Their eyes were a soft yet deep blue in comparison to their companion.

"Captain, they aren't on the list." The Soldier looked to his superior.

"Put them to the block. They must've been picked up for a reason." She answered.

"Yes Captain. I'm sorry. I'll make sure your remains make it to your families." The soldier spoke with sympathy before writing their names down.

They joined the rest of the group, watching as the first of them lost his head. Tsadaarji pressed against Grimnal's side, their muscles trembling slightly. He could only offer a nudge but it seemed to relax her. An Imperial soldier broke them apart, pushing Grimnal towards the chopping block.

"No!" Tsadaarji cried out as the soldier pushed him down to his knees and over the stone.

"Don't make it worse, Tsadi." His gruff voice seemed to soften.

Despite lowering her head at his command, the khajiit's ears perks up and twitched. The soft eyes that had been trained on him quickly sharpened as they turned to the sky.

Just as the executioner was about to drop his axe, a dragon landed on the tower next to them, some sort of harsh boom that seemed to push many of the people backwards. Grimnal was no exception, however his previous position resulted in a worse disorientation.

A pair of hands grabbed him by his tunic and dragged him into a nearby watchtower. The one who had grabbed him was Ralof. It was hard to hear what he said over the Chaos. The most Grimnal could decipher was to go up the tower. The two of them ascended but not before the dragon had burst through the side.

•••

"Let me get those binds off of you." The soldier known as Hadvar pulled a dagger from its sheath before cutting away Tsadaarji's binds. "There is a spare uniform in the chest over there."

Tsadaarji nodded meekly before rummaging through the chest. They lost track of Grimnal when the dragon attacked, unsure if he was safe or dead. Hadvar was uncomfortable with the silence. Though he noticed that as the building shook from the carnage outside, so did she.

"That's a long story..." As she pulled a set of armor from the chest, he turned away.

"We have some time." He pressed.

There was a small sigh before she began speaking.

"Grimnal and I, we are connected. Bonded by some higher power." There was rustling of metal and armor before she continued, "We met in Northern Valenwood. Now we should get out of here."

"Yeah we should.." Hadvar's voice betrayed his expression. He wanted to know more.

The khajiit huffed as they entered a round room, joined by a few Stormcloaks.

"Now hold on—" Hadvar began but was interrupted as the one with a Warhammer swung at him. It made contact with his Blade.

There was a flash of dark speckled fur as the second stormcloak tried to attack Hadvar while he was vulnerable. It hit him in the chest and, just for a moment, Hadvar saw Tsadaarji with her lower paws kicking the nord backwards. There were deep gashes in his chest. Her claws were at his throat before they could blink.

"No!!" The last remaining rebel shoved Hadvar back and swung for the khajiit. She rolled out of the way just as the hammer came crashing down on where she had been.

Tsadaarji lunged at the soldier, grabbing a stone on the floor so her lower half swung around and knocked the legs out from under the stormcloak. They hit the floor with a harsh thud. She pulled the hammer from them and swung it down.

Hadvar pulled her away from the body as she had stood there, staring at what she had done. He had opened the door to go further into the depths of the hold.

•••

"Something troubling you?" Ralof offered a bottle of mead to Grimnal who took it gratefully.

"I think you know." Grimnal was about to drink but his eyes snapped towards the road as they heard Hadvar yell.

"Slow down!"

The rebel nearest to the gate readied their axe.

"Stop!" Ralof shouted. A dark blur crossed the distance as the axe came down.

Blood dripped onto the ground. The axe had buried itself into the armor and some flesh of Grimnal's back. His arms were wrapped protectively around Tsadaarji's frame.

"Why take a hit just for some khajiit?" The soldier was dumbstruck as they quickly pulled away their weapon.

"They're not just 'some khajiit.'" Grimnal growled, something about him seemed to shift, becoming more animal-like despite huffs of pain. "I'll rip your throat out if you come near her again."

They scurried away, terrified. From behind Tsadaarji appeared Hadvar. His eyes were wide upon seeing the group of enemy soldiers. Especially the injured Grimnal who was staring Hadvar down as Tsadaarji whispered something to him whilst her paws glowed golden against the wound.

"You helped her?"

Hadvar was unsure of exactly what the khajiit told him so he merely nodded.

"Then you have my thanks." Grimnal bowed his head in appreciation.

"It was no problem." Hadvar spoke in relief, meeting Ralof's intense gaze.

"I'll see you on the battlefield then." It was more of an assurance than a question to Ralof.

"Yes. I must inform Solitude of the dragon attack. I'm sure you must do the same in Windhelm." Hadvar offered a hand.

"I'll be helping around here for now. Ulfric must be halfway there with the news." Ralof gripped the other's hand and shook firmly.

The two nodded before Hadvar went to speak with his uncle before running down the road towards Whiterun. Grimnal waited a moment before speaking as Tsadaarji finished healing him.

"We have to travel to Whiterun. I promised Ralof I would."

"Alright. Maybe we could stop by an inn and rest afterwards?" There was a hopeful tone to her voice, though they both knew they had little to no coin.

"We'll see Tsadi. We'll see." He affectionately pat her head as they too disappeared down the road towards the city.