Something sharp struck just below Kiir'Dun's knee and her eyes flew open.

Sun, bright, hard, stuck.

She reached her hands up to cover her face but found them bound together with some dirty rags. She grunted in disgust, wondering absently where the cloth had been, and went about trying to free her hands. Looking down, she noticed she wore pants that were ripped and her silken robe was gone, replaced with rough feeling burlap. Shit. When had this happened?

In a mixture of anger and confusion, she tossed her head up and found herself staring directly into the face of a Nord.

Her heart fell into her stomach and she looked to her right, seeing two more humans just as dirty and angry-looking as the one in front of her.

Kiir huffed. She could feel a well of panic start to stir in her gut, but only in that she was still stuck in a world of unknowns. She had escaped one ordeal only to fall into another. Just my luck. She ripped one hand back, hoping to tear the bandages. As old and tattered as they looked, they held firm. She could feel tears welling in her eyes but she shook them away.

"You're not going to get them off."

Kiir didn't look up at the Nord as he spoke to her. She told herself she wasn't afraid of him but as it became harder and harder to hold her hands still she found that lying to herself would do her no good.

The Nord's voice fell in volume. "What's a High Elf doing trying to cross into Skyrim, anyway?"

"I'd never been." Kiir's voice sounded soft, a quality she didn't like.

A deep chuckle rose from the Nord's throat. "Well you picked a poor time to visit, Elf. With the war and all."

War? Kiir scrunched her face up. There's no war in Skyrim. Hadn't the Empire signed the White-Gold Concordat? As far as she knew, the First War had ended and Tamriel should be in peacetime.

The dark haired man beside Kiir began to speak and she quickly tuned him out. She had to figure a way out of this. She stared down at her hands, still pulling at the bindings. This wasn't how things were supposed to go. Kiir tried to remember how she'd gotten here but her mind was... fuzzy. Was I drugged?

The Nord grunted as they passed further into the city. "General Tullius and the Thalmor?"

Kiir's ears perked up and she sat a little straighter. The Nord caught her reaction and watched her cautiously as she strained to see behind his head; a man in red and gold armor sat atop his horse and just beyond him was a face Kiir recognized.

Elenwen.

Gods, the ambassador looked so much older. Elves didn't age that fast but goodness did Elenwen look centuries older than when Kiir had last seen her, only a few years ago. She used to attend her father's dinner parties when Elenwen was still only an errand girl; Kiir had always found her tenacity admirable.

The ambassador cast a glance at the carriage as it passed and Kiir ducked her head down. If Elenwen even suspected who she was, she'd be most certainly sent back to the Isles for trial and she couldn't expect the Ambassador to lie to a high Councilor about the whereabouts of his daughter.

A large tower soon obscured the line between Kiir and the Ambassador. She lifted her head and watched a boy say something to his father, who looked uncomfortable and sent him inside. The gathering of soldiers out in front of the towers shifted from foot to foot. A dark veiled executioner leaned against his axe; Kiir wondered what he looked like.

The train of carriages came to a jarring stop and the dark-haired thief looked about him worriedly. "Why are we stopping?"

The Nord scoffed. He rose to his feet. "Let's go, we shouldn't keep the Gods waiting."

Kiir didn't rise immediately. She glanced around her, hoping that by some stroke of luck someone would pull her aside and tell her there'd been a mistake. No such moment came and as the one man who's been gagged stood and exited the carriage, she followed.

They called each man's name and slowly each man made their way to surround the chopping block. Then they reached the panicky, dark-haired man.

"Listen to me," he pleaded. "I'm not one of them. I have a family. I've always sided with the Empire. I'm not a rebel!"

Kiir knew she must've looked just as frightened as he did; his eyes wide and sweat trickling on his forehead and wetting his hair. She gave him as reassuring of a smile as one prisoner could to another.

If he noticed, he did not return it. He, instead, launched himself up the path, running as well as he could with hands still bound.

"Halt!"

The dark haired man shouted something in return before the woman in the red armor looked up towards the top of the towers. Kiir following her gaze to archers set high above the group.

She could hear the collective thwang of the bows.

The man stumbled a few more steps forward before collapsing to the ground.

Kiir staggered backwards. Her heart rose to her throat. In that moment things became crystal clear.

The woman looked back at Kiir and narrowed her eyes. Kiir turned to look away.

"Wait a moment." The man beside her squinted at the scroll of paper he held before glancing back up. "Who are you?"

Kiir swallowed. "Kiir'Dun, sir."

"Odd name for a High Elf."

"My parents are from... outside the Isles."

The man hummed and looked at the woman beside him. "Clearly this one isn't a rebel either."

"We've got an hour before we have to rendezvous with the other group heading up to Solitude. We don't have the time to debate." The woman looked over Kiir. "Our luck we'd let her loose and she'd turn out to be a spy. Send her to the block."

Kiir let out a sharp breath. This wasn't happening. That was not happening. She tried to catch the Captain's gaze, but the stoic woman had turned to move towards the executioner. Kiir wasn't even sure what she'd have said to her if she tried. Maybe if she mentioned something about Elenwen... but, as Kiir looked about her, it seemed the Ambassador had left.

Kiir felt her chest tighten. I should have said something before. Any punishments the Thalmor had would have been better than death.

The list-reader nodded and turned back at Kiir; he actually looked sympathetic. "I'm sorry. We'll have you and your things returned to your family."

Would they even know where her family was? Would any recognize her face well enough to take her home? Kiir wanted to speak up, say something. But her eyes fell on the dead man that'd been shot by the archers and her mouth dried up. It hadn't worked for him.

A distant roar echoed in the air. Kiir looked up.

The list-reader guided Kiir towards the executioner's block where the others stood, putting a hand on her shoulder. It was a gentle one, a last-ditch effort to express his condolences. A lot of good that did her.

The Captain had moved to the front of the gathering of prisoners. "Read them their last rites."

A young human woman, adorned in robes far too ornate for such an event, raised her hands and began some sort of prayer. She was quickly interrupted before she could finish by a blue armored soldier. The same armor worn by the Nord she'd rode in with, though his was perhaps a bit scraggly and more worn down.

The man stepped forward, unabated, and knelt before the block of his own accord. He mumbled something sharply to the woman and placed his head on the block.

The Headsman looked to the Captain, who nodded. He raised his axe.

Violence was a foreign concept on the archipelago of the Altmer. The Isles were a peaceful place; at most some child would accidently burn a barn or a creature would sneak into the town at night and kill livestock. Death was an even rarer occurrence, given how long the elves of Summerset lived and the extensive knowledge of healing magic they had.

Yet, when she should've balked or turned away, Kiir could not tear her eyes from the soldier as he died. His head fell neatly into the box in front of the block and despite the utter horror at seeing such a thing take place so close... Kiir found herself relieved. At least he'd gone quickly.

The Nords beside her hummed sadly.

Then the roar returned.

Kiir's head snapped up. The sound was much closer now. Before it had sounded like a distant saber cat but now... What in the world was that?

The Captain grew impatient as everyone's attention was drawn from her. She grabbed the back of another Nord's shirt and shoved him onto his knees, laying his neck onto the block.

That's when a third roar ripped through the air, louder and closer. A black shape twisted and twirled in the sky behind the tower.

Kiir raised her head a bit as the Headsman lowered his axe and followed everyone's eyes to the rapidly growing shape behind them.

When the creature landed with a resounding boom atop the tower, Kiir could see clearly the pointy, black scaled body and fiery eyes. It looked at her and roared again... only this time it sounded like words. Syllables she'd heard before. There was no mistaking the beast, it was a-

"Dragon!"

Kiir saw the Headsman drop his axe and bolt out of her line of vision. The Nord at the block followed suit, racing out to the road.

The dragon leapt from the tower and it's shadow passed overhead. Kiir ducked instinctively, running towards the tower that the Nord had entered. The thick stone dulled the chaotic screams and destruction continuing outside.

"What is that thing, could the legends be true?"

The man spoke who'd been gagged was already inside the tower. "Legends don't burn down villages," he replied. His voice was much deeper than Kiir had expected, with an even deeper undertone beneath it.

Kiir saw the way the soldiers clad in blue and silver armor avoided her gaze and she decided that these were the last people she trusted with her life.

She moved to travel up the stairs, ignoring the way the burlap pulled and scratched her skin, before freezing halfway. The dragon's head slammed through the wall, breathing fire and scorching the man who'd been just in front of her. The heat was intense and the light blinding. She only saw a black shadow retreat from the rubble, but she could've swore it looked at her.

Tentatively, she stepped around the body and peered out the hole the dragon had made. Everything was on fire and, if it wasn't, looked like it had been. Kiir looked down and saw the top floor of someone's house and, since the fire had yet to reach the interior, decided to jump.

The landing was less graceful than she'd hoped. She landed hard on her knees. She was able to regain enough of her balance to scramble back to her feet and run for the stairs to the first floor. She swung the front door open. The sun seemed brighter.

A red armored soldier stood herding people out of the road, beckoning a frightened young boy to come towards him.

Kiir ignored him and ran on to the road but as she passed the soldier he grabbed her arm and pulled her back just as the dragon landed, spewing flames where she'd been standing just a moment before.

She recognized the man; he was the list reader. She frowned at him.

"Stick with me."

Surviving was currently at the top of her to-do list, and figured that staying by the man with a sword and at least some combat experience would be better than her running aimlessly about a destroyed town.

She stood about a head taller than the man, which meant where he easily slipped under fallen boards and short doorways she had to crawl. She still got a few nasty bumps before they'd arrived at a keep, pain she ignored as best she could.

The soldier paused outside the Keep, thinking.

Kiir did no such thing and ran for one of the doors to the keep. Her hands were still tied, getting it open proved to be difficult. With a few twists and a shove, she finally got it open.

Nord locks were so primitive it was a wonder they'd survived as long as they had. Her people hadn't used ring locks for centuries, nor had they used such crudely made doors.

Kiir found the keep a bit smaller than she'd have liked, the ceiling only a few inches above her head. She made sure to avoid the hanging chandeliers, or what she assumed to be chandeliers.

Behind her the door opened and closed again and the list reader made his way into the keep. He motioned for her to come over to him but she stayed put.

"Let me get those bindings off." He withdrew a knife from his belt and motioned for her again.

Kiir hesitated and got only as close as she needed for him to reach her wrists. He sliced the fabric and she retracted her arms, rubbing where the fabric had worn her skin raw.

"There should be some armor and a sword or two laying around somewhere."

Kiir turned away from the solider and opened one of the chests, hauling out a cuirass similar to the one the man wore. It felt heavy and awkward on her shoulders; it was far too broad and the skirt portion barely reached halfway down her thighs. The boots were out of the question and even the leather gauntlets rattled on her thin wrists.

"I'm guessing your people don't don armor often." He commented as she walked over and then extended a hand. "I'm Hadvar. I know you told me your name but the previous events seem to have pushed it from my mind."

"No, we don't." She took his hand and found it engulfed hers. "And it's Kiir'Dun."

"Well, Kiir'Dun, I'm sure you'll want these back." Hadvar reached into a side pouch and hauled out a gold necklace and a tightly wrapped scroll of papers.

Kiir placed a hand to her neck. She gratefully took her things and tucked them into her belt. They didn't miss anything, did they?

"What about my coin purse?"

"You're lucky to have gotten the necklace back."

She pursed her lips.

He nodded towards her empty hands. "Don't you want a weapon?"

Kiir eyed him before holding out a hand, fire lit in the palm. It was the only Destruction spell she knew, having learned it secretly after finding some of her father's spell tomes in the basement. "I have this."

"Right." Hadvar said slowly. "Just try not to hit me with any of it, okay?"

Kiir blinked. That was an odd thing for him to say.

Hadvar turned on a heel and, cautiously, Kiir followed.