Chapter 1

Waking up with a splitting headache with my hands tied up in front of me isn’t exactly the way I like to start the day. At least not while fully dressed, anyway. I could feel some rough splinters digging into my back, so there must have been an issue with my armor as well. I felt like I was being shaken around a lot as well, which from the sounds that penetrated my sore and throbbing head seemed to indicate that I was in a wagon rolling down a rough road. On the whole, between the headache and the shaking, it was all rather nauseating. This wasn’t any way to treat the daughter of an Emperor and a god. Two, if the stories about father were true.

It was cold, also. Not a biting, completely unbearable cold, but still pretty damned uncomfortable. I tried to think back, about the last thing I could remember. Was there too much drinking involved?

After a moment, some of my memories returned. That didn’t lessen the pain in my head, though. There had been drinking involved, and way too much of it. But the guy who was giving me the drinks, he was darned cute, wasn’t he? There was something about his eyes, they set him apart. But his voice, ah, that was so interesting. Very ... sensual. Made me feel like jelly inside, and definitely someone I wanted to know better. So what did happen? Surely he didn’t just kidnap me? I kept my eyes closed, trying to remember.

That’s right. I’d spent too much time at Cloud Ruler Temple, trying to find something, anything, left from my father. Instead I found some ghosts and some armor that I’d hidden away. I was tired, so I’d wanted a drink, and ended up in the tavern, and he came in. The Jerall View Inn, that was the name of the tavern. And Mister Dreamy Eyes bought me some honeyed mead and after we’d drank it, said he thought I ought to come to his homeland with him. It wasn’t that much further north from where we were.

Following him out seemed like a good idea at the time, but that definitely wasn’t the way I normally acted. Not after only one drink, anyway. A girl has her standards, after all. But ... I remember seeing Dragonclaw Rock, then following a path in a cave system through the Jerall Mountains. Dreamy Eyes and Sexy Voice, urging me to drink more Colovian Brandy to stay warm and to just follow him and everything would be all right.

I really wasn’t trying to run away from home in the first place, just find out for myself more about Mundus. Uncle Haskill had said it would be a complete change for me, totally different from everything I’d grown up with. He was right.

The pain in my head faded a bit more. What was next? Oh ... crap.

I opened my eyes and looked around.

Mother said that before she became the Madgod, any time she woke up in a strange place she’d run through a quick checklist as soon as she opened her eyes, to make sure that what she thought was right from before she opened them was correct. A quick glance down confirmed that my hands were definitely tied. And I was sitting up in a wagon, going down a rough country road. I straightened up a bit, feeling more rough wood digging into my back. That shouldn’t be possible through my armor.

Shit, no armor. Uncle Haskill was going to be pissed, that was his special gift to me for my sixteenth birthday, nearly seventy five Tamriel years ago. I didn’t think that bringing it with me and wearing it when I finally came to Mundus from the Shivering Isles was a mistake. It certainly had helped me several times in southern Cyrodiil. But that means someone took the time to take me out of my armor and dress me in these rags. Now I’m starting to get angry, wondering who was pawing at my body.

My eyes seemed to focus better. Across from me was a light haired Nord man wearing what looked like a blue uniform. A dark haired Nord man wearing a leather tunic was sitting to his left. They were the only two on that side of the wagon. I turned my head right. A pair of dreamy eyes were watching me. But ... oh. His hands are tied up as well, and he’s got a gag over his mouth. That doesn’t bode well, does it?

I looked further back. There’s a man wearing Imperial armor riding a horse behind our wagon. I turned my head to my left. Our wagon driver is also wearing Imperial armor, and there’s another wagon full of people ahead of us. We seem to be going down a fairly steep hill.

The man across me said, “So, girl, you’re finally awake. Seems we walked right into that Imperial ambush while crossing the border. Sorry you were caught up in that, you and the thief over there.”

The darker hair man spoke. “Damn you Stormcloaks! Skyrim was fine, with the Empire fat and lazy until you came along. You there, girl! You and I, we shouldn’t be here. We just got caught up in something of these Stormcloaks.”

The man sitting next to him said, “We’re all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief.”

The first one said, “Fine. Sister, I’m Lokir. This hunk of rebel is Ralof. I don’t know who that speechless one is.” He was referring to the cute but gagged man.

Ralof warned, “Watch your tongue, Lokir. You’re speaking about Ulfric Stormcloak himself, the True High King of Skyrim.”

“He’s Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm and the leader of the rebellion against the Empire! But if they’ve captured him ... Oh, crap!”, the dark haired thief said.

“What village are you from, horse thief?”

“What do you care?”

“A Nords last thoughts should be of home, when Sovngarde awaits.”

“Rorikstead, I’m from Rorikstead!”

I was still caught up in what was going on. I could see we were quickly approaching the gates to a city. There was a group of people sitting on horseback just outside the city. It looked like they were waiting for us. There was a man wearing the uniform of an Imperial officer, someone wearing Elven armor, another wearing Elven robes, and finally someone wearing regular priest robes. The soldier on the horse behind us yelled out, “General Tullius, this is all the captured prisoners we have for the headsman!”

The man in the officer uniform turned from where he had been talking quietly with the elves. “Good, let’s get this over with!”

Lokir started praying to the gods. “Shor, Mara, Dibella, Akatosh! Divines, please help me!”

Ralof looked on in disgust. “Look at him. General Tullius, the Military Governor. It looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damned elves. I bet they had something to do with this.” He looked up at the town gate. “This is Helgen. I used to be sweet on a girl from here. I wonder if she still makes that mead with juniper berries mixed in. Funny, when I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel safe.”

The wagons came to a stop. Lokir was protesting that this couldn’t be happening, that it was a mistake he was in the wagon. Under the watchful eyes of the Imperial troops, we started getting down from the wagon. A woman officer, a Captain, yelled in a harsh voice, “Step towards the block when we call your name. One at a time!”

Ralof gave a grim chuckle. “Empire loves their lists.”

The Imperial soldier at the end of the wagon looked at his list. “Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm.” Ulfric glared at him, but then started walking towards the block.

Ralof called out, “It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric!”

The soldier continued. “Ralof of Riverwood.” He started forward. “Lokir of Rorikstead.”

Lokir started screaming, “No! I’m not a rebel!” He began running towards the open gate. An archer quickly drew his bow and fired a single arrow. Lokir sprawled to the road, the arrow sticking out of his back. This was SO not looking like a good time now.

The soldier with the list looked at me. “Wait, you there. You’re not on my my list. What’s your name, girl?”

I replied, my voice a little hoarse from the alcohol or drugs. “Martina Grize’.” I don’t think he heard me, though.

“Captain, this prisoner isn’t on the list. You’re a long way from the Imperial City, girl.” Damned straight I’m not on any list of yours, I thought.

The Captain yelled out again, “Forget the list, she goes to the block!”

“But she’s an Imperial, Captain!” At least he noticed that.

“She was with them, she can die with them!”

“I’m sorry, girl. We’ll make sure your remains are returned to Cyrodiil. Now, follow the Captain.” Yeah, like that would work well.

There was now a group lined up in front of the executioner’s block. General Tullius said, “Ulfric Stormcloak! Some here in Helgen may call you a hero. But a hero doesn’t us a power like the Voice to murder his King and usurp his throne! You started this war, plunged Skyrim into chaos, and now the Empire is going to put you down and restore the peace!”

I laughed inside. Apparently Tullius had never heard the term ‘martyr’ before. He took another breath, and started to speak. That was interrupted by a sound, almost like a battle horn, but from a long distance away.

“What was that?” asked one of the guards.

“Ignore it. Begin the executions!” Tullius ordered.

The woman in priestly garb I’d seen before now moved in front of our group. “As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Eight Divines upon you.” Stupid woman, that’s what started this war in the first place. As a priestess, she ought to know better and know the history of Arkay, her own god.

She continued talking but one of the other Stormcloak prisoners said, “Enough of this, for the love of Talos, get this over with.”

The priestess looked startled, but stopped. “As you wish,” she said, stepping back.

The prisoner took his place on the block. “My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperial! Can you say the same thing?” The headsman took a swing with his axe. I’ve seen people die before. Some are cowards, like Lokir. Others are not, like this brave man. His head fell forward into the basket, with blood shooting out a bit before his body quit resisting death. One of the guards grabbed the headless body and dragged it to the side.

Not everyone in the crowd of citizens watching this was happy with what had just happened. I heard a woman yelling, “Imperial bastards!” I hoped she wouldn’t get into trouble for it.

The Captain yelled out, “Next, the renegade from Cyrodiil.”

The soldier who’d had the list took me by the arm, leading me forward, and said, “I’m sorry. As I said, we’ll make sure your remains are returned to Cyrodiil.”

Before we could take a second step, that horn sound came in much louder. It was obvious now that it wasn’t a horn. It sounded like the scream of a wild animal. A very LARGE wild animal. I think Mother has been listening and watching what’s going on. We stopped, looking around.

The Captain was angry. “Enough! I said, next prisoner!”

I was brought before the block and roughly pushed in the back, down to my knees. I wasn’t feeling good about the whole thing at this point and said, “Mother, NOW would be a good time for whatever you’re planning!”

The Captain pushed me in the back again, so my head was across the block. Looking forward, I could see the sightless eyes of the first victim staring back at me. That didn’t make me happy, so I turned my head towards the left. The headsman was on that side. I could see him raise his axe. There was a guard tower behind him. Something very large landed with a ground shaking thud on top of that tower.

General Tullius yelled, “What in Oblivion is that?”

Time seemed to slow as the headsman started to bring his axe up. I could see that the creature was big, like the stature of Akatosh in the Temple of One. I thought I was being saved by my father, then I realized that it wasn’t the avatar of a god. It was a living black dragon!

The dragons mouth was already open and he shouted out something that sounded like, “Dov Strun Bah Qo!” I felt a slam that I first thought was the axe hitting me, then I realized that it was the magic of the dragon voice. I realized that must have been what Tullius was talking about when he was yelling at Ulfric. Either way, being on the receiving end of part of a Shout hurt. The headsman didn’t have to worry about how much it hurt, there were meteors suddenly falling from the sky and one of those hit the headsman in the back, vaporizing his torso.

Tullius yelled out, “Don’t just stand there! Kill that thing! Guards, get the townspeople to safety! Battlemages, attack!”

Ralof ran up to me. “Come on, girl! Get up! The gods won’t give us another chance!” He helped me to my feet. The dragon had leapt from the tower and was flying over the town, breathing fire and causing some of the thatch roofed houses to catch fire. The meteors from his first Shout continued to crash down around us, also causing fires and knocking parts of some buildings down. I’d never seen anything like this before, not even when Mother was having a temper tantrum. Cabbages, yes, but not meteors.

He led me into a tower where the other prisoners were gathered. One of the prisoners, a woman, was laying on the ground, injured. Another was trying to help her. I heard him ask, “Could the legends be true?”