Author's note: Greetings to all readers,

First off, this story is meant to be a complete rewrite of the previous fanfic Skyrim: Paths Of Fate; I wasn't satisfied with its overall quality so I had abandoned it and recently decided to re-do it from scratch (mostly). The two main characters remain, although I altered their backstory and personalities a bit, which should be more prominent in later chapters. It should follow the path set by the previous fanfic but the pacing will be faster with less detailed descriptions to make the plot advance quicker. I included a few more OC's (two of them are based on my actual game characters) that will be only remotely involved with the main characters.

As in the case of the earlier TES fanfic, I decided to write this because I love the world of Tamriel with its detailed, almost Tolkien-like lore (at least in my opinion) and Skyrim is one of my favorite games. I only hope my fanfic will do the TES world justice...

Warning: extremely slow updates (for most of my free time, I'll probably be doing multiple things at once and my priorities lie with other fanfics), rated T for language, violence and adult themes, non-explicit for now (may raise it to M later on), multiple OC's and POV (I'll do my best not to make it too confusing), occasional butchering of English language (I'm from Czech Republic so sorry in advance)

And finally, a disclaimer: Everything with the exception of OC's belongs to Bethesda Game Studios.

Please enjoy the reading; as always I'll appreciate any kind of feedback, be it positive or negative.

Chapter 1 – Welcome home?

Morning of 17th Last Seed, Helgen

The very first thing I felt after waking up was a splitting headache, like if I got trampled by a rabid troll. The strong feeling of utter disorientation was another story entirely; for the love of the Nine I couldn't remember why I passed out in the first place and even worse, why I was being carted off to gods-know-where clothed only in rough itchy rags, where all of my things had gone, why I was bound like a lowly criminal with only five other similarly restrained fellows as a company, and why all the Imperial soldiers around us were grinning like if they had struck a gold vein.

When in Oblivion had everything gone so wrong?

Suddenly, a voice interrupted my thoughts. "Hey, you! Finally awake, I see." The Nord man in a brown-and-blue armor of some sorts spoke to me. He had long blonde hair and a short beard and he actually looked concerned about me. He appeared to be some kind of soldier; before crossing the borders I heard about some unrest in the North but attached little importance to it. Had I known things were that bad I would've reconsidered my past choices.

"How long was I out?" I grumbled, shaking my head trying to clear my still somewhat blurry vision. My headache dulled a bit and now I could take a good look at my company. On the opposite side of the wagon beside the blonde Nord sat a skinny man in rags with an expression mixed between fear and irritation. Beside him sat a black-haired High Elf female clothed in a black armored robe, if you could call it that, and she looked royally pissed. Slumped against my side lay a familiar Wood Elf woman, the same I met while making my way through the Pale Pass. I remembered she had struggled when the Imperials arrested us (for what, I still had no idea) and they knocked her unconscious. The last captive was a grim looking Nord with graying hair and a goatee; he wore rather expensive looking clothes and, unlike any of us, had a gag stuffed in his mouth.

"Not even for an hour. They probably didn't thrash you as hard as your Wood Elf friend over there. Damn Imperials…" The uniformed Nord answered bitterly. "So, you were trying to cross the borders, kinsman? And walked right into the Imperial ambush, like the rest of us?"

It didn't escape me that the blonde mistook me for a Nord when I was in fact from Cyrodiil. I inherited my Nord looks after my father; born in Solitude, he left to Cyrodiil to join the Imperial Legion when he came of age. He fought in a war with Aldmeri Dominion and fell in the battle of Red Ring at the very end of the conflict, mere months before I was born. As for my mother, she he was an Imperial, but in many ways she was very much like dad. Like him, she revered Talos, so when the worship of Talos was banned by the White Gold Concordat, she lost the faith in the Empire and its ruler. A few years after the end of war, we moved from a city of Cheydinhal to a small village near Bruma.

The life in the countryside was quiet enough but only until the Aldmeri Dominion resorted to more direct methods of rooting out Talos worship. People were being kidnapped, secretly and without warning, and no one was doing a damn thing about it. It became apparent Cyrodiil was not safe for us anymore; I and my mother began our preparations to leave Cyrodiil as soon as we could. While mother was saving money and supplies for our voyage to Skyrim, I was learning everything that I deemed useful such as fighting, archery, smithing and even some less advanced restoration magics. Mother even stopped visiting the local shrine of Talos in order not to attract attention, but in the end it didn't save her from the Thalmor Justiciars. Thanks to some "loyal citizen of the Empire" who was way too eager to earn some quick coin, my mother was arrested and dragged away. That happened about a month ago. There was no way of saving her; once the Thalmor nab you, it's the end of the line.

It would have been better if I had stayed a while longer to earn some more coin while working as a blacksmith's apprentice but I was worried the elves would go after me next so I packed up and left the village, never looking back. So much for all our planning…

I had travelled mostly on foot because I didn't want to spend money on carriages. The journey that would last four days by carriage drew out to more than two weeks but gods be praised, I made it to the borders without any accidents. That was where I met the Wood Elf that eventually became my fellow captive. She was battling a small group of bandits when I found her; even though she seemed more than able to handle herself I helped her fight off the attackers. After the battle we agreed to travel together for a while. There was no trouble between us but her really quiet nature was a bit unnerving.

Soon enough we crossed the borders into the Falkreath hold in Skyrim. It was that moment when my luck ran out. We happened to run into a convoy of blue uniformed soldiers that shortly afterwards got ambushed by Imperial soldiers. That led to us being captured and arrested alongside the rebel soldiers; like if that wasn't enough, the bastards confiscated everything we possessed.

And as you surely know, the rest is history.

Lost in thoughts, I misheard my fellow captive's question. The blonde Nord sighed and nudged me with his hands. "Hey, are you listening, brother?"

"What?!" I snapped, not in the mood to talk.

The blonde soldier raised his bound hands in surrender. "Hey, no need to get all snappy with me. We'd rather not be here either, you know?"

The skinny Nord spoke up, appearing none too pleased by the recent development. "Damn you Stormcloaks! Skyrim was fine until you came along – Empire was nice and lazy. If they weren't looking for you, I could've stolen the damn horse and been halfway to Hammerfell!"

"You deserve to be here, horse thief, along with the rebels!" The High Elf snapped, her voice dripping in contempt, jerking her head towards me and my companion. "I and those two over there are the ones who should be complaining!"

The Nord snorted. "It doesn't matter. We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, elf."

The Legionnaire driving the wagon looked over his shoulder, still keeping his eyes on the bumpy road. "Shut up back there!"

The High Elf stood up, her face contorted in ire. "Come here and say that directly to my face, little man!" She shouted at the driver only to be completely ignored.

The woman beside me groaned slightly as she was regaining consciousness.

"What's up with this one anyway?" The thief asked with disdain, pointing at the gagged fellow.

The Nord soldier scowled at the thief and opened his mouth to speak, but the High Elf beat him to it. "This man is Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm and the leader of the Stormcloak rebellion." She explained. "I'd expect you to know that, given how much trouble he had caused."

At first, the thief stared with his mouth agape but then started panicking once he realized something. "Wait. If he got captured, then… oh Gods, where are they taking us?" Meanwhile, the rebel soldier was glaring daggers at the High Elf.

She didn't appear disturbed by the Nord's stare. "Glare all you want, Nord, it won't change the truth. Ulfric murdered the High King and thus betrayed the Empire and his own land. He will suffer the consequences of his actions and his motives won't change anything about that."

"I don't expect you to understand our plight, elf." The soldier snorted derisively.

"Right now, I'm only concerned about who is in charge of this bunch of imbeciles!" The High Elf retorted. "I can't believe how much the Legion had degraded since the Great War! Arresting civilians without a proper investigation; if something like this happened 25 years ago, those responsible for such a blunder would get strung up!"

"By the Nine what are you on about?" I exclaimed exasperatedly. The Wood Elf finally sat up, nursing the wound on her temple.

To my surprise, the blonde Nord smiled. "It's nice to see someone who hasn't forsaken the true faith."

"Be glad there aren't any Justiciars around here." The High Elf remarked. "It's bad enough we gave the Dominion a free victory, now we have to let them wander around our territory." The gagged Nord muttered something but thanks to the rag in his mouth the words came out as a muffled gibberish. "And to top it all off, it seems that the Legion is arresting everyone that looks at them wrong. One time I leave the College and what happens is this?! I get arrested for simply being near the ambush site? This is absolutely preposterous!"

"I know how you feel." I remarked. I didn't really hate the Empire, even after signing the damn Concordat. But it has been 26 years and instead of recovering its strength, the Empire seemed to sink deeper into the mud. Today's events were a clear proof of that.

Our little captive society fell silent for a while, before our Wood Elf companion spoke up. "Where are we being taken?"

Blonde Stormcloak hung his head. "I have no idea, but I have a feeling Sovngarde awaits us." He replied solemnly.

"No! This can't be happening; this isn't happening!" The thief started babbling in fright once he understood the implication. Even though I didn't show it, I was unsettled myself; I didn't know much about Nordic traditions and beliefs but the way the Stormcloak said it just didn't bode well.

The Wood Elf caught on too, to my surprise. "Are they going to kill us?" She asked silently, looking straight at me.

Before I could say anything, the High Elf gave a contemptuous snort. "The Nords will be making nice with outlanders first before I let that happen." Her remark earned her a furious scowl from the Nords.

"Where are you from, people?" The blond Stormcloak asked after a moment of silence.

"Why do you care?" The thief snapped back.

"Nord's last thoughts should be of home." Stormcloak replied with a calming voice, seemingly in peace with whatever might come in the next few hours.

"I…" The thief stammered. "Rorikstead, I'm from Rorikstead."

"Cheydinhal." I said.

Stormcloak smirked lightly. "Cyrodiil, huh?"

"Long story." I answered bluntly.

"What about you, Wood Elf?"

The woman didn't reply at once. She looked around the trees surrounding the path and then whispered. "Falinesti."

I heard murmuring of people in the distance. I turned around and saw the convoy with prisoners entering a fortified village. Some of the Imperial soldiers were guarding the main gate while the others accompanied our convoy. I also noticed a few horsemen as well. One of them was clothed in a distinctive uniform of an imperial high-ranking officer. One of his subordinates was just giving him a report.

"General Tullius, sir, the headsman is waiting!"

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

The thief started freaking out over a mention of a headsman. "Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh…Divines, help me!" I rolled my eyes. That man behaved like he was the only one to be executed, which didn't help us feel better about our fate.

The Stormcloak nudged me and pointed at the general that was just speaking to a black robed Elf. "You see that? That's general Tullius, the military governor. And he's got the Thalmor with him. I bet those damn Elves had something to do with this." He spat with disdain. So my journey was pointless, I thought to myself; even Skyrim was infested with those Alinor bastards.

"General?! He commands this pathetic excuse for a unit?" The High Elf snarled in outrage. I noticed she began channeling magic into the ropes that restrained her. "I'm going to have a long talk with this gentleman!"

"Wait, what are you gonna-" Before I finished the sentence, her bonds simply snapped; the remains of the ropes fell onto the wagon's floor, smoking slightly. She hopped off the cart, eliciting cries of alarm from the soldiers.

The both wagons stopped at once. "Is she trying to get herself killed?!" The Wood Elf whispered, her eyes darting between the High Elf and Legionnaires clustering around her. At that point, the Thalmor officers were long gone, not bothering to stick around.

The High Elf strode purposefully towards the general, who seemed to notice the racket, ignoring the soldiers that tried to stop her. Only when a poorly aimed arrow bounced off the ground before her, she cast a Magic Armor spell on herself. Another arrow flew and struck its mark but instead of causing harm it simply ricocheted off her skin.

She cast a glare at one of the archers. "Do that again and I will burn your face off!" Then she turned her attention to the Imperials that shouted at her to surrender. "Come any closer and you'll regret it!" The High Elf was probably still alive only because no one anticipated a prisoner to simply burn off their binds and march towards their commanding officer. I was completely flabbergasted by the whole spectacle; she was either incredibly confident or outright suicidal.

"What in Oblivion is going on here?!" General Tullius shouted and approached the High Elf with his sword drawn.

"I should be asking you this, General!" She retorted angrily. "Have your men never heard about something called a "due process"? Because only this seems to explain why three innocents were arrested alongside rebel forces! Or is this unit really that incompetent?!"

"This "incompetent" unit succeeded in capturing the most wanted criminal in Skyrim!" Tullius said boastfully. "And I don't think some civilian gets to tell me how to lead my own soldiers!"

The High Elf's lips curved into a smirk. "Your standards must be really low, Tullius. If this was 30 years ago, this unit would be a laughingstock of the entire Legion!"

In the meantime, we watched the entire conversation with various degrees of interest, with the exception of the thief who was too busy soiling his underpants with fear. The rebel soldier's expression was a mix between contempt and amusement, while Jarl Ulfric seemed to be chuckling. It was really hard to discern thanks to the gag in his mouth.

The general scowled at the insult. "You seem to forget that I have more than fifty men here, waiting at my command, and personally, I'm finding this exchange to be very tiring. So you have one chance to explain yourself before I'll have you riddled with arrows!"

The High Elf snorted. "Very well, General, here's your answer." She made a theatrical pause before continuing. "My name is Elaith Gernanne, born in Daggerfall 4E 25; spellsword, joined the Imperial Legion in 4E 81; was stationed at various posts across the Empire, including Elsweyr, Hammerfell and Skyrim; fought against the Dominion in the Great War; reached the rank of Legate and was released from active duty in 4E 176; and currently I'm in the employ of the College of Winterhold." The now identified veteran Legionnaire took in the shocked stares of soldiers around her. "Does this suffice?"

To his credit, Tullius recovered pretty quickly from the initial shock. "Back to your duties soldiers! You, move the damn wagons to the square!" Our cart began moving forward. Then the general approached the elven Legate. "On behalf of the Legion of the Mede Empire, I extend my apologies for the inconvenience-" That was all I heard before the rattling of wooden wheels across the paved path drowned his voice out.

"Where are we?" I asked, looking around the village.

"This is Helgen." The Stormcloak answered with a nostalgic undertone. "I used to be sweet on a girl from here. I wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in." He paused for a moment. "It's funny. When I was a kid, the Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel safe."

"The Empire ain't what it used to be." I muttered. The entire war with the Dominion, sacking of the Imperial City and the demeaning terms of the Concordat really did a number on the Empire.

As our convoy moved through Helgen, villagers were staring at us. Most of them were just talking among themselves; others were pointing at us, laughing and jeering. A few children peeked curiously from their homes, but parents shouted at them to stay inside. None of us said a word, except the thief, who was praying to whatever gods he revered. Then our cart arrived at the village square where several Imperials were already waiting. A high tower dominated the whole place, but that was the last thing that interested me. In front of the tower… there was a chopping block, and right next to it stood a headsman with priestess of Arkay. So we were going to be executed; I never expected my journey to end like this.

Our cart came to a halt. "Why are we stopping?" The thief shrieked.

"Why do you think?" Stormcloak retorted as the legionnaires started forcing us off the wagon. "End of the line. Let's go, we don't want to keep the gods waiting."

I had no other choice but to stand up and follow the other prisoners. I was afraid, we all were, but we still took our fate better than the horse thief who wouldn't shut up about him not being a rebel.

"Face your death with some damn courage, thief." The Stormcloak growled at the thief, effectively silencing him.

We stood before a helmeted female officer and her subordinate, who held a list, probably with names of prisoners. "Step towards the block when we call your name, one at the time!" The Imperial woman commanded.

"The Empire loves their damn lists." The Stormcloak grumbled.

The low-ranked soldier started reading the names. "Ulfric Stormcloak, the Jarl of Windhelm!" The rebel king separated from us and walked to the block.

The Stormcloak bowed his head, murmuring "It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric."

"Ralof of Riverwood!" The blonde Stormcloak followed his leader without a word.

"Lokir of Rorikstead!"

The thief snapped. "NO! I'm not a rebel! You can't do this!" Instead falling in line with others, he decided to run for his life. He ran past the officer and to the gate. The officer yelled at him to stop, but he ignored her. "You're not going to kill me!"

"Archers!"

Lokir the thief suddenly fell to the ground when several arrows hit his back. He didn't move. I noticed Legate Gernanne walking past the thief's corpse; the Elf managed to settle her dispute with Tullius peacefully, given that they gave her back her belongings, including the sword on her belt. The officer turned back to us with a satisfied smirk. "Anyone else feels like running?" She asked smugly.

The soldier with a list suddenly looked at me and said. "You there, step forward." Then he turned to the elven woman beside me. "You too, Wood Elf." He sized us up. "Who are you?"

I exhaled sharply before answering. "My name is Farlas Bormirsson, from the city of Cheydinhal."

"You would've been better off staying in Cyrodiil, citizen." The soldier mused briefly, and then looked at my Wood Elf companion. "And you?"

"Falaere of Falinesti." She croaked, her voice faltering.

"Valenwood is far away from here. What are you doing alone in Skyrim, anyway?" The Imperial said and turned to his superior. "What should we do? They are not on our list."

"Is there a problem?" The High Elf Legate said as she approached the Captain.

"Nothing important, just two of the prisoners scheduled for execution are not present on the list." The Captain said dismissively. "The list is a mere formality, anyway. If we don't put the down now, someone else will do that later." That callous bitch! The Captain's attitude had me gritting my teeth in rage. Were it not for the bindings, I would've probably punched her.

"Mere formality?" Legate Gernanne said incredulously. "I don't know where you have been trained, but as much as I dislike paperwork, it is here for a reason. If they aren't on the list, then a proper interrogation is in order; if you ignore that, not only you're violating their rights for a due process but you're also overstepping your powers. Do you realize what position this puts you into?"

The Captain seemed to shrink under the Elf's glare. "How is this any of your business? Haven't you retired or something?" She snapped in a last attempt to save her face.

"Once you join the Legion, you're in it for life." The Legate replied simply. "I may not be on active duty but I am still a part of the Legion and I do outrank you. Keep this up and you'll end up on latrine duty for the rest of your damn life!" Instead of fighting back, the Captain simple excused herself and stormed away, beet red with anger and embarrassment. The Legate shook her head in disbelief and looked at the soldier with the list. "Is there any place in here where I could conduct an interrogation without being disturbed?"

"The tower over there is usually empty. I believe it should suffice." He replied, pointing at a smaller tower sitting in between the inn and a smaller house.

"Thank you soldier; you're dismissed." The Legate laid her gaze on us. "You two, come with me."

Elaith

Scandalous, absolutely scandalous…

I let out a frustrated sigh as I led the Imperial and the Bosmer to the empty tower for interrogation. Ever since the Great War, things in the Empire had been going downhill. Who in their right mind would execute an uninvolved person without a second thought and consider it a standard procedure?! And as the fate would have it, I happened to be captured while on my way back to the College from the Imperial City, my first journey outside Skyrim in years! Maybe I should've never left Winterhold but if I didn't, these imbeciles would kill those two and no one would give a damn.

Back to the matters at hand, I thought, reminding myself of my current task. Even though there was no way the two captives had anything to do with the rebels, I couldn't simply let them go, not before conducting a proper investigation. The inside of the tower was furnished with only a table and a few crates. This will have to do, I guess. I ordered the captives to sit on the crates while I remained standing.

The Bosmer was the first to speak once I closed the door behind us. "No torture tools?"

"Don't be stupid." I shot back. "You'll never get good information by torture; at one point, the victim will admit to anything to make the pain stop."

"Then what's the point of keeping us here?" The Imperial asked.

"Why, for questioning, of course! Innocent or not, it's still suspicious when a civilian happens to stumble right into an ambush, especially one that ends with capturing the rebel leader."

"I haven't done anything!" The Bosmer protested. "I was just passing by when your lot caught me and robbed me blind like some bandits!"

"One of our lot pulled you right from under the headsman's axe, so it wouldn't hurt you to show some gratitude!" I snapped irritatedly. That seemed to shut the girl up. "Now, did you even know who you had run into before the ambush?"

They both shook their heads in denial. "I heard about some unrest in Skyrim but I didn't think those guys would be rebels!" The Imperial objected. "How did you get caught anyway?"

"I'll be asking the questions here." I shot back. "Why would the two of you travel to Skyrim of all places?"

"Hey, I'm looking for a quiet life in my dad's homeland; I've no interest in becoming involved with the rebellion!"

"I sincerely hope so. I would be far less inclined to help you should you throw in your lot with these Stormcloaks." I replied bluntly before shifting my attention to the Bosmer. "And what of you? Why venture so far to the frozen Northern end of Tamriel?"

The elven woman simply stared pointedly ahead in silence.

"I have asked you a question, girl!" Despite my warning, she was dead set on ignoring me. Now, I don't usually resort to violent methods but I was half tempted to use a shock spell to get her to acknowledge my presence. But then a sudden commotion outside distracted me from my current task. I went to look outside to see what was going on.

At the moment, I had no idea that the sight that awaited me would be etched into my mind forever.

The entire village had descended into chaos as some black lizard-like winged creature landed on top of the tower near the chopping block. Its body was covered in razor sharp scales and huge spikes were protruding from its back. The thing glowered with its menacing red eyes at the villagers that, overcome with fear, fled to their homes while some of the soldiers recovered from the shock and began shooting arrows. The prisoners… well, those had no chance of surviving as they were completely defenseless. The black monster raised its ugly horned head and let out a terrifying roar.

And moments later, it began raining fire. Literally.

Now, I would be lying if I said I wasn't scared by that display of power. But as a Legionnaire and loyal servant of the Empire, I knew my duty; to stop whatever this thing was from devouring the entire village.

I drew my sword and turned at the two captives I had been questioning. "Whatever happens, do not leave this tower!" Not waiting for their answer, I charged into the raging battle.

Falaere

As soon as the Legate vanished out of sight, I had a sinking feeling something was very wrong. I realize it seems ironic, considering I was arrested, robbed of all my stuff, and nearly put on a chopping block, all of that for no good reason, but it was just there in the wind, a sense of foreboding that things would only get worse… if the Legate abruptly leaving in the middle of questioning was any indication.

She didn't even leave us a knife to cut the ropes that bound us.

Suddenly the door slammed open and a group of rebels stumbled inside the tower; most of them were wounded, covered in slashes, bruises and… burns? Out of curiosity I leaned forward to get a glimpse of the outside through the open door.

The village was on fire, with bloodied corpses strewn across the square.

"What in Auri-El's name…"

Then Jarl Ulfric himself barged into the tower, dragging Ralof, the Stormcloak from our wagon, with him.

Farlas, the fellow captive, stared wide eyed at the number of wounded around him. "By Akatosh's scaly backside, what is going on here?"

"A dragon!" Ralof screamed. "A gods-damned dragon is out there, burning Helgen and killing people!"

"How in the- I thought the dragons were just a legend!"

"Legends don't burn down villages." Ulfric retorted. The tower shook violently and we were showered by stones. "We need to get out of here, now!"

"Would someone cut our bindings first?" I shouted back. I didn't like the thought of me running across the burning village with my hands still tied.

"No time for that! If we linger here too long we're all dead!" Ralof snapped back and pointed at the spiral staircase. "Up the stairs, quickly!" Halfway up the tower there was a huge hole in the wall and fallen stonework was blocking the stairs. Two rebel soldiers were trying to remove the obstacle when all of a sudden a black scaly head of a dragon peered inside the tower, letting out a huge torrent of fire and burning the soldiers alive before flying off. Were it not for Ralof pulling us back, we would have been dead.

Through the hole, we could see a large half-crumbled house next to the tower. "See the inn on the other side? That's our way out!" Ralof shouted, pointing at the ruined house. "Just jump on the roof, I'll go right behind you!" I nodded and jumped to the inn's roof, landing safely on my feet. Farlas wasn't so lucky for the weakened roof collapsed right under him but thankfully he hadn't hurt himself too badly.

Suffice to say, the next several minutes were a blur, mostly involving running away from a rampaging dragon. We soon lost the sight of Ralof but then we ran into the Imperial officer responsible for the list of prisoners. Thanks to his assistance, we managed to get safely to the keep. Meanwhile, the Legionnaires fought the vicious winged beast in an effort to save the village. It was a hopeless battle though. The black dragon seemed invincible and paid no mind to the arrows raining upon it; worse, no shelter was capable of shielding the villagers from the beast's fiery rage. Helgen was doomed. There was not a single house left untouched and streets and alleys were covered in dead bodies. The air smelled like smoke and death and cries of people being slaughtered could be heard everywhere.

"It's just us, prisoners! Stay close!" Our protector shouted as he ran forward, not looking back. We passed under the archway into the keep's courtyard. Whatever was left of the Imperial unit was still fighting the dragon while attempting to retreat. General Tullius was among them and so was Legate Gernanne, tossing bolts of lightning at the beast while evading gouts of fire. All of a sudden the dragon swooped down on her and slammed its legs into her, sending her flying into one of the burning houses. Not even a hardened veteran stood a chance against the winged horror.

"By the Gods, this is like Oblivion on Nirn!" The Imperial yelled, not daring to look back. "Come on, we can't stop now!"

Finally after what seemed to be hours we made it inside the keep. The stone keep gave us a chance to rest for a while but we were not out of danger yet.

Farlas

As soon as he closed the door behind us, our Legionnaire companion, Hadvar, sat heavily on the floor, panting with exhaustion. "Looks like we're the only ones who made it." He muttered groggily, looking around the room with numerous beds. "Ysmir's beard, I can't believe this… A dragon, a thrice-damned dragon, a bringer of the End times…"

"I sincerely hope the last one isn't true…" I said, voicing my thoughts on the matter.

"I hear ya." Hadvar stood up and picked up a dagger from a table nearby. "We should keep moving. Come here; let me see if I can get these bindings off."

Moments after, the ropes around our hands fell off. I was glad to finally be rid of the bonds and so was Falaere the Wood Elf; now if I could find the stuff Imperials confiscated while arresting us that would be perfect… "I won't have you running around in those rags. Take a look around; there should be a plenty of gear in here. I'm going to try and find something for these burns."

Indeed one of the chests contained several sets of imperial armor, both light and heavy variants. I donned the heavy armor while the Elf took the light; if I had to fight anyone on our way out, I'd prefer fighting in something that actually offered some protection. Of course as any well-mannered individual I turned the other way when Falaere was putting on her armor. After grabbing some swords from a rack, we were good to go.

Hadvar led us through the vacant corridors of the keep. After coming through a portcullis we arrived in a circular room… and ran straight into a familiar face. "Shor's bones you're alive?!" The lone Stormcloak exclaimed when he noticed us. "And what are you doing in the company of that traitor?"

"Yeah, you're among the last persons I want to see right now, Ralof." Hadvar shot back coldly.

"Wait, so you two know each other?" Falaere asked.

"Unfortunately." Ralof snorted in disgust. "We were best of friends until the civil war broke out and I joined the Stormcloaks. I chose to fight for freedom while Hadvar sided with a weak Empire that is perfectly content with us bending to the Elves!"

"Seriously? That's what Ulfric has been filling your head with?" Hadvar exclaimed incredulously. "The man doesn't care about Skyrim's people or Talos; he wants the High King's throne, nothing more!"

"Typical Imperial propaganda!" Ralof spat out. "Resorting to lies so they could keep their subjects!" By the gods… Who knows how much time we've got before the dragon brings the keep down on us and they'd spend it arguing with each other like an old married couple?!

Before I knew it I found myself screaming. "Cut this horseshit, you two!" Others jumped in start at the sheer volume of my voice. "In case you didn't notice, there's a dragon on a loose out there; we should be focusing on getting out of here not arguing who's right or not! You two don't like each other, we get that, but could you please slaughter each other after we're out of here?"

Ralof and Hadvar glanced at each other. "Alright, you've made your point. I can set my grievances aside if he's willing to do the same." Hadvar said finally, jerking his head towards his estranged friend.

"A true son of Skyrim never goes back on his word." Ralof answered curtly. "If Hadvar's gonna play nice then so will I."

"Yeah, yeah." Hadvar rolled his eyes. "I just hope we won't run into some of my comrades."

At least they are sensible, I thought to myself. "Okay, if that's settled, let's move on shall we?" My companions nodded in response.

It was time to get out of Helgen before the dragon brought the keep down on our heads.

Edited on 31st October 2015