a/n: I've been playing waaaay too many video games lately.

The first sense that came to me was scent. I sniffed the air to get my bearings, a habit formed from years of experience. It smelled of human, horse, salt, urine and woodrot and I barely held back a grimace. I'd breathe through my mouth but I really would rather not find how it would taste. I was dimly aware of the sound of thick voices over that of hooves trotting and creaking movement, but, my mind was too muggy to make out more than a few of the words; something about Stormcloaks and the Empire being lazy…

One thing was clear, however: I was surrounded by nords. If I could manage to open my eyes, I'd be rolling them. If the dull throb in the back of my head and my apparently bound hands were any indication, one of the brutish, tactless, humans clogged me over the head.

The voices got louder and clearer as my wits fully returned to me. I felt the telltale swaying of a carriage and I opened my eyes to see my own bound hands and the blur of old sun stained wood in my peripheral. There were nords sitting all around me, as far as I could tell. One was even pressed against me, whining to another.

Ah, well. Playing dead will only get me so far, I suppose. Best look alive.

Gathering my strength, I shifted and moved my head to look up at what was in front of me. A blond nord man, bound in a similar state as I. Not the worst thing to wake up to, I mused. At the very least he's handsome. He opened his mouth to speak.

"Hey, you," he said. My ears twitched. Not a bad voice either, nice and deep. "You're finally awake. You were trying to cross the border, right?"

I nodded. My memory was fuzzy, but I remembered something like that. I was… trying to cross the border from Cyrodill to Skyrim… Oh, now I remember.

I had stolen from an apparently important ambassador and was spotted by a few guards. I managed to make my get away on the back of a stolen horse and just as I was crossing the border I was accosted by…

"You walked right into that Imperial ambush," the nord continued. "Just like us, and that horse thief." He nodded to the man sitting to my left. I looked to see a nervous looking dark haired man, a bit wiry and thin, but obviously a nord nonetheless. Wait a minute…

He looked familiar. Then, it hit me. "You…!" If my hands were free I'd have broken his jaw. "You're that damned robber!" The thief cringed but, he stood his ground, glaring back at me.

"As if you're so innocent! What was a slip of a bosmer like you doing with a Legion horse, girl? You're certainly not soldier material."

I hissed back at him, "The horse was mine to ride, how it was obtained was irrelevant, nord. What were you doing lurking on the side of the road like a sick sabercat? Do you often prey on helpless women just trying to make it to the next town?"

"Oh, so the wench who threatened to rip my cock off if I didn't get out of her way is playing the dainty distressed maid? That's rich!"

Another voice cut in, a sharp and authoritative bark. "Shut up, back there!"

Piss off.

The horse thief seemed more than willing to change subjects. "What's with him?" he asked nodding to the huge, boyish-faced, bear of a man, bound even tighter than we and gagged, at the back of the carriage.

The nord from earlier seemed to take offense.

"Watch your tone!"

"What?" I asked, startled.

"That is Ulfric Stormcloak! The true High King!"

The color drained from the horse thief's face and he looked again at the gagged man. "You're… you're the jarl of Windhelm. The leader of the rebellion! But, if you're here… Oh, gods, where are they taking us?!"

The handsome nord smirked wryly. "Isn't it obvious? Sovengarde awaits."

"This isn't happening! This can't be happening!" The thief wailed.

How dreadfully annoying. "You're a bit of a coward, aren't you, highwayman? Shouldn't you be pleased to see your ancestors in the afterlife?" I mocked. "Your Talos ensures all you brave strong nords a seat in his oh, so divine meadhall, doesn't he?"

The rebel nord scowled at me as the horse thief began to weep. I shrugged at him. "Glare at me as much as you wish, nord. I have nothing to fear from a bound man and will state my opinions as I please."

His scowl deepened as he turned to comfort the thief. "Hey, what village are you from, horse thief?"

"What do you care?" He shot back.

The rebel had a wistful look in his eyes, "A nords last thoughts should be of home…"

"Rorikstead… I'm… I'm from Rorikstead…."

The rebel nodded.

My ears pricked as I heard the distant voice of one of the soldiers further ahead in our little caravan. "General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting!" We were entering a town.

"Good. Let's get this over with."

I lifted up slightly in my seat at this, peering ahead to try and see what awaited at us other than a swift beheading. If I was lucky, I might be able to slip away before we reached the chopping block. We passed a sign that read Helgen.

The thief began praying. I blinked at him as he began to invoke the name of the divines, his eyes squeezed shut.

"Pathetic," I sighed. Now all three nords cast glares at me. And the rebel spoke at me with fierce eyes and clenched fists. "I do not care what your beliefs are, elf," He spat the word like a curse. "But, the very least you could do is respect our right to pray to the divines in our final moments."

I scoffed. "The divines are as important to me as they are to you, nord. But, they do not help fools who sit and cry, sniveling for their lives like whelps. They are only with those who would keep their wits about them." I spat. "That is why this damned crook is pathetic. Now, shut the fuck up and let me listen."

The rebel seemed cowed and the gagged one seemed to look at me with a certain kind of begrudging respect. There was a moment of silence between us and I took the time to listen to what the Imperial soldiers were talking about. Nothing particularly useful, unfortunately. The two nords began chattering again about someone named General Tullius and, judging from the tone, nothing good. "…And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Bet those damned elves had something to do with this." At this I cast them a reproachful stare. Tactless human.

I glanced at the town around us, hearing the voices of curious children, their shushing mothers, and general gossip. A blonde little boy stared at me with wide, awestruck eyes. I locked my gaze with his, before grinning and dipping my head in a playful nod. He hid behind a wooden post before peeking out to see if I was still looking. I stuck my tongue out at him and turned away. As fun as children are to tease, I was more concerned that our carriage was rolling to a halt. I turned to look questioningly at the blonde insurgent.

"End of the line." He seemed resigned to his fate.

The horse thief began to protest again. "This isn't fair! You've got to tell them we weren't with you! This is a mistake!"

I rolled my eyes and the blonde one scoffed out, "Face your death with some dignity, thief."

A soldier came to guide us off the carriage and the horse thief persisted, "No, wait! We're not rebels!" He looked at me then with the wild eyes of a terrified skeever. "Tell them!" I raised an eyebrow. He spoke as if we'd been traveling together. Still, I spoke in our defense.

"Ah, I am simply a traveler, I crossed your borders from Cyrodill, I had no idea there was even a rebellion to be a part of." I nodded towards the scared nord. "He is a horse thief and a rather cowardly one at that. I doubt he'd join any cause but to save his own skin." The soldiers simply ignored us.

Ah, well. I tried my best.

A soldier walked to stand in front of us. "When your name is stated, step towards the block."

The blonde sighed. "Damned Empire loves their lists."

A woman in official looking armor stepped forward, glaring at us. I met her glower with a bored stare and she scowled at me, placing a hand on the blade at her side. I cracked my knuckles in response, my lips tilting up into a half smirk. Bring it, bitch. The first soldier began listing names and the woman turned to regard the people who stepped forward.

"Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm." A jarl? I thought the Jarls were Skyrim's leaders. They can be tried as traitors here?

The blonde nord spoke mournfully as the gagged man stepped forward. "It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric."

Then, "Ralof of Riverwood." He stepped forward, following the one he called Jarl, his head held high.

"Lokir of Rorikstead." And to my great surprise, the highwayman stepped forward, or rather frantically ran.

"No, I'm not a rebel! You can't do this!" He tried to flee.

"Halt!" The nord woman from before drew her blade as he rushed past her.

"You're not killing me!"

"Archers!"

I grimaced and almost couldn't bear to watch. Weave, Lokir! Not in a straight line!

Lokir jerked and fell flat forward, an arrow embedded in his back. I bowed my head as the thud echoed around the town square. May Kynareth guide you, highwayman.

The woman turned to face the rest of us captives and challengingly spat, "Anyone else feel like running?" I narrowed my eyes at her and locked our gazes. Without breaking eyecontact, I spat a gob of sticky saliva to the dirt. I may not know much about nord customs, but that is one of the few insulting gestures I knew of. She growled at me and I flashed my teeth challengingly.

The male soldier called out to me then, apparently having missed our little exchange. "Wait, who are you?"

"I am called Sa'miail."

"What are you doing here, wood elf? On a pilgrimage? Trading?" He did not give me time to respond and instead turned to the woman, "Captain, her name's not on the list. What shall we do?"

The woman- captain- smirked then and said, "Forget the list, she goes to the block, too."

Typical.

He nodded. "By your orders, captain." She walked off to speak to the headsman and he turned again to me. "I'm sorry. We'll make sure your remains are returned to Valenwood."

Dryly, I replied, "Actually, I hail from Elsweyr. But, your consideration is certainly appreciated, nord."

He blinked, "Follow the captain, prisoner."

I did as bidden, half tempted to strike out at her turned back. Not yet.

As I approached, the one called General Tullius was speaking to this... Jarl Ulfric.

"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 in a Daedraborn plan to usurp the throne." He spat on the other man's boots and Ulfric grunted. Tullius continued, "You started this war and now Skyrim's in chaos. The empire is gonna put you down and restore peace to this place."

Just after those words passed from his lips a sound filled the air. Like a thousand sabercats roaring to the tune of a hundred wolves howling. My skin turned to gooseflesh and my hair stood on end. What… what was that horrid sound?

Someone else apparently was having the same train of thought as I heard, "What was that?"

Tullius, after a moment's pause, said, "Nothing. Carry on."

"Yes, General Tullius," the she-captain saluted. "Read them their final rites."

A priestess stepped forward and began to chant out a Blessing of Arkay but was quickly cut off by a rebel prisoner. As he knelt down, his neck over the block, he spat curses to the Imperial soldiers until his last breath was cut off by the sickening squelch of the executioner's blade carving through his throat. I gulped. There were several jeers and cheers.

The she-captain merely kicked the headless corpse to the side before snarling out, "Next! The savage!" It took me a moment to realize she was referring to me with that little comment. My lips parted to spit some harsh words back at her before I was cut off by that bloodcurdling sound again. My ears twitched. It's much closer now…

The nords and imperials simply shrugged it off and the woman spat out, "I said: Next. Prisoner." I was pushed forward by the Imperial that requested my name earlier.

"Nice and easy," he said.

Whelp. It's now or never.

And with that thought, I kicked backwards, striking the soldier in the gut. There were shocked cries from the gathered soldiers and the crowd of onlookers. I dashed forward, straight for the captain and struck her in the face with my bound hands. I managed to snatch her blade up, when she was stunned and with a single quick motion, the crude hemp binding my wrists was cut away. The crowd of prisoners cheered me on, but I paid them no mind as I attempted to speed off, away from my captors. I rolled and leapt to avoid arrows, and waving my stolen sword to ward off the approaching foot soldiers.

In no time at all, I was cornered, my back pressed against the rough stone of a watch tower. The pack parted, allowing that damnable captain to pass through and stand in front of me. She glared at me and snarled, "I will behead this one myself." I snickered at the way her words slurred together under the blood gushing from her nose. That's what you get, wench.

Curiously enough, the scent of brimstone filled the air.

She strode closer to me, confident that the arrows trained on my heart would deter me from attacking her again. She may have been right, I must admit. Still, I kept a tight grip on the sword, and let my lips pull back into a snarl. She laughed darkly at me and reached forward to swat the sword to the side and grabbed for my throat. She may have succeeded, if not for two things. One, I hopped to the side to avoid her.

And two, the roaring was back. Louder than anything I've ever heard. So loud I was deafened for a moment. Painfully so.

I was dimly aware of the humans screaming about something, if their gaping maws and terrified bulging eyes were any indication. Several of them were pointing as they fled like singed skeevers at dawn. I followed their fingers to just above me.

A huge black mass filled my vision and was held in place by the penetrating stare of two huge orange orbs, glowering down at me. My hearing slowly came back to me and as I watched the huge beast paralyzed with fear, and through the din of nothingness, I heard what I supposed would be words as the beasts lips moved. Then, it cast its great jaws open revealing rows of huge sword teeth and my immediate thought was, Run.

I leapt to the side and the beasts roar suddenly sounded like words to me.

"Yol!" It bellowed and I narrowly avoided being roasted by the massive fireball that flew from its maw. Those unfortunate enough to be caught in its path were instantly reduced to ash. Immediately, I pushed myself from my knees and scrambled away from the beast- the... the fucking dragon!- as it lifted up off the top of the tower.

As I ran, I noticed two men, both nords, calling out to me. One was the legion soldier I had kicked and the other was the rebel I had ridden the cart with, Ralof.

Well, this is an easy decision. I veered immediately towards Ralof and he guided me into a building, slamming the door behind us with a mighty grunt of effort. We both stood panting for a moment and I took the chance to look at the rest of my company. There were two soldiers wearing the blue armor I had quickly learned to associate with Stormcloaks and Jarl Ulfric himself.

With a breathy chuckle I joked, "What lovely pets you nords keep. Does it do tricks other than roasting? 'Heel,' perhaps?"

Ulfric released a short whoop of laughter and came around to slap a hand to my back and I was nearly knocked off my feet. "I like you, elf! You put on quite a show! Gave them Imperial bastards quite the fight, and now you're cracking jokes during the middle of a dragon attack! I wish I had a drink to share with you, girl!"

Ralof took in a shuddering breath, saying, "I thought dragons were only legends…"

At this, Ulfric seemed to sober up, "Legends don't burn down villages."

Never one for idle chitchat when there was work to be done, I busied myself with rifling through the nearby cupboards. Upon discovering several well sharpened steel daggers, I immediately dropped the Imperial captain's sword. Now if only I had a bow, I looked down at the now singed and ragged cuirass I had rode into Skyrim in. And some armor. Ah, well. Nothing much to do about it now.

The nords were still talking and the roof above our heads shook. Why are humans so ridiculously chatty, this isn't the time!

"Well, gentlemen, dare I ask if there is a plan to escape this hellhole?"

Ralof walked over to the wall. "If memory serves right, there should be an underground passage out of Helgen from the watchtower just across the square. If we can make it there, the beast shouldn't be able to follow…"

As if on cue, the beast released another roar. Though muffled, I could make out what sounded like words again, "FUS RO DAH!" and the whole building shook and some pebbles were knocked loose from the ceiling above us.

Dryly, I commented, "I don't suppose there's an underground passage to the watchtower?"

"The Divines wouldn't make it that easy for us," Ulfric shot back.

"No, of course not." I strode over to the thick oaken doors and pushed them open just a crack. I peered out into the square, the great beast was preoccupied snapping up some hapless villagers; he seemed completely unconcerned with the building we sat in. I glanced back at the nords. "Well, he's not looking. We might be able to make it, if we move fast."

The jarl grinned boyishly, "Well, let's go then!" He pushed me out of the way and slammed the doors open with a loud crash. Stupid…!

The dragon heard it and turned to breathe a wave of red flames as we made our escape. We narrowly avoided a fiery death as we just barely managed to slip into the keep, slamming the doors behind us.

Patting out a flame that had caught on my sleeves, I snarled out, "Are all nords this brutish and loud? Have you never heard of sneaking!?"

They ignored me and Ralof took the opportunity to rip a tapestry off the wall, revealing a door.

The passage led us down into some sort of dungeon where we were met with a torturer, his assistants and several corpses bearing Stormcloak armor. Immediately, they attacked. As Ralof and Ulfric were occupied with the torturer, spitting curses and threats all the while, I was left to fend off the subordinates.

They came at me with dark, promising scowls and a heavy looking axe and Warhammer. They clearly weren't expecting me to be much of a threat. A danced easily away from their wide swings, a dagger in each hand. With a lightning fast flick of the wrist, flames flickered from my finger tips, blinding the one with the hammer. He bellowed in pain, swinging wildly in panic. I smirked when he bashed his companion's skull in. I tossed one of my blades, embedding it in his throat. He gurgled for a moment before falling limp.

I heard clapping, behind me and turned to see the two Stormcloaks grinning wildly. I rolled my eyes. And moved on ahead, but not before rifling through my opponent's pockets, pocketing a full coinpurse and a few weak potions.

We went deeper in before Ulfric stopped and said to us, "We part ways for now. Ralof, take the elf with you to Riverwood. I must wait in the dungeons to see if any of our men made it and are coming this way."

Ralof nodded and Ulfric walked off. The blonde nord put his hand on my back, pushing me forward. "Don't I get a say in this?"

"It is safer to travel with a companion than alone, elf."

"Sa'miail."

"What?"

"My name. You may call me Sa'miail."

The nord snorted, "As you wish. Not that it'll matter much if we don't get out of here alive."

"I plan on living another few days at the very least, so I suppose we had better get moving."

We traveled deeper through the caves, coming across and killing a few Imperial soldiers. To my great pleasure, one of them had a bow and arrow, which I later used to kill a bear we met. I wanted to skin it, but there was no time, so I settled for its claws.

By the time we exited the cave and walked into the sunlight, I had collected several more coins, some old bread and wine, and several vials of spider venom.

I stretched, enjoying the warmth of the sun. This province was much colder than the sands of Elsweyr, but sunshine is sunshine. I could only enjoy myself for a moment before my companion tackled me to the ground with a shout of, "Get down!" A huge black shadow swept over us and I saw the dragon swooping high over the mountainside and disappearing in the distance.

"That was close," he sighed.

"…Get off me."

"Sorry," he stood and offered me his hand. I grabbed it and he pulled me up. "The nearest town is Riverwood, we should head there first."

"Mm."

We walked down the mountain in silence for a long while.

"You fight rather well, Sa'miail."

"I've had practice."

"Would you consider joining the Stormcloaks, if given the chance?"

"The affairs of nords are not my concern. I have no idea what your cause is, but something tells me it has little to do with me."

"Surely, you have heard of the Thalmor and the Empire's conquests. You're a Bosmer. Didn't they try to "cleanse" Valenwood?"

"I was raised in Elsweyr. Valenwood is not my concern, either. All I know of the Thalmor is that they are high elves and as such they must be self-righteous assholes."

"Surely that is reason enough to fight their reign!"

"The Thalmor do not reign over me. I do as I please. No petty Altmer will change that." I cast him a warning glance. "And neither will any nord."

Ralof sighed in frustration, but kept walking.

We were soon beset by a pack of wolves as we neared a village in the distance. I suffered a huge bight on my upper arm and Ralof had a few scratches, but otherwise, the wolves were taken care of quickly enough.

With an irritated huff, I said, "Is your country normally this welcoming and comfortable?"

Ralof chuckled wryly, dry amusement lacing his tone. "Welcome to Skyrim, elf."

I snorted, drawing a fistful of healing magic over my wound. I didn't have enough energy to get rid of the scar.

Welcome, indeed.

a/n: I love Skyrim. The amount of dicking about you can do to avoid the main quest in that game is unreal and it's my favorite thing.

facts: Sa'miail is a Bosmer from Elsweyr and that's important for later. She's generally a rogue but she knows a bit of magic as well.