The afternoon sun in Falkreath is making me feel kind of light headed. Honestly, if I were to meet my fate today, I would have preferred to be in the snowier lands of Skyrim – not bloody Falkreath, true Nords spit when we hear the name of Siddgeir, a sad dog amongst the wolves. It has seen better days, Yarl Dengeir – or is it Thane Dengeir now? He is old yes, but he is still thrice the man than Siddgeir. Boring old Falkreath, sometimes I wonder if being near Cyrodil this close makes them all milk drinkers?

Ah, the damned rocks, can't a woman meet her makers in a smoother carriage? All this ride from Darkwater crossings, and I can't even get a proper sleep in. Praise Shor to make this a swift ending and I can make for the feast in Soverngard tonight. Now I wonder, does mine count as an honorable death? Am I worthy yet?

"Hey, you. You're finally awake." The blond man sitting across me in blue looks my way. He is wearing armors typical of Windhelm, or rather—the Stormcloaks. A Nord and a man, with proper builds that will make Skyrim proud.

I nodded back, he and I weren't the only ones in this cart today. There is this man in rags, and another in much nicer threads. For some reason, the ladder had his mouth gagged, he wasn't much of a talker anyways, I could tell.

"Were you trying to cross the boarders?" And just like the kind of Nord man that the moms would warn their daughters about, he ignored me shaking of my head and just went on and on about his own "Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there."

The man in the dirty rags looked up at him, there's some distain in his eyes, but crowding that, was the fear. "Damn you Stormcloaks. Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you, I could've stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell."

Hammerfell? Does he actual know how rough are the road there to Hammerfell? It would take a fortnight on a good horse, and not stopping at any inn. I would know…

The horse thief looked at me "You there... You and me, we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants" I glanced at him. This one talks too much.

"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief. You got a name?"

The thief was first a little quiet, "…, Lokir, of Rorikstead"

"Name's Ralof, Ralof of Riverwood, and what about you, Lass?"

"Alvanna" I smirked and stared right into his eyes and his square jawlines roughened by some hair. "Alvanna of the Knifepoint Ridge"

Ralof had his eyebrows beat, "Knifepoint Ridge? There's no village there?".

"I didn't say it was a village, Ralof of Riverwood"

Lokir squealed, "It's a bandit camp! You are from the Knifepoint gang!"

There was an awkward silence for a second there. I didn't really care too much about how others see me you see, and I sure as hell won't justify myself in front of some strangers.

"Why were you at the Rift then? Knifepoint's Ridge is West of Falkreath and ways away. Since when does Bandit take spoils thousands of miles apart? Which high lord is worthy of such trouble?" O great, we have a curious one don't we?

And again, we seem to still have a bit way to go before our destination, so I replied "We weren't trying to rob imperial high lords and ladies or any merchants if that's what you are thinking about?"

"SHUT up back there!" The soldier guiding this carriage grunted back, seeming bothered by us ruining his peaceful quiet afternoon driving the prisoner caravan.

I have no love for these damned imperials either. Too many of our people died for their war. I was but a babe when I was found in that barrel by Tonendy, hidden under the bridge, with me dad cold, with that elven arrow buried in his chest, still covering the only holes of the barrel. She told me I was the only thing breathing left of that village.

I hissed at him and barred my teeth, what is he going to do? Kill us? It would just be a few hours early to Soverngard. "We were Hunting."

Ralof was a bit confused, "Didn't know hunting was against the laws these days."

I laughed and gave him a big bright smile with all of my teeth out like a she-wolf, "Depends on who you are hunting." Ralof gave a laugh, but I wasn't joking.

"And what is wrong with him, huh?" Lokir gestured at the fourth in our little carriage. The fine clothed man with gags.

"Watch your tongue. You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King."

"Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You're the leader of the rebellion. But if they've captured you... Oh gods, where are they taking us?" Lokir cried out in a fit. Gods, he is getting on my nerves.

Ralof looked into the distance, where you can somewhat make out a small town "I don't know where we're going, but Sovngarde awaits."

As the horses draw closer to the town, we could see some of the stoned towers and forts. A village with an abnormally large fort keep. I have a good idea where we are. "Helgen, we are at Helgen."

The first to greet us are an imperial man on a fine horse with some even better armor. He isn't your typical milk-drinker though, I can tell by the callous on his sword hand that this old man has seen his share of blood.

"General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting!" The soldier reports.

"Good, let's get this over with". He then turned to talk to his 'escorts' in their damned Thalmor robes that I can recognize anywhere.

Ralof seem to share my despise in this moment, "Look at him, General Tullius, the Military Governor. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves. I bet they had something to do with this."

The Empire, almighty Empire, with the blessing from our gods, defeated the bastards of Aldmeri Dominion in the battle of red ring, reclaimed the white-gold city and cut off the heads of ten thousand elves… I wonder if the throne was warmed by his arses, before King Titus Mede II bowed down to our oppressors.

Imperials gave up the Nord's tradition, the Nord's land and OUR god, Talos, just so they could keep their god damned luxury life in that white gold city of theirs. They sold out the people of Skyrim, Hammerfell and all the allies they had left who helped them in claiming the victory.

Just when I was lost in my thoughts, the Thalmor rode up, stopped the carriage and looked directly at me, "Aren't too smug now hmm?"

I hissed at her and barred my teeth, "get these binds off and we will find out"

She looked down at me from her horse, with her face raised so high that all we could see was her nostrils. "Make sure this 'Assassin' goes to the block first, general Tullius"

The imperial general rode up beside her, he doesn't make any efforts to hide his lack of patience for the Thalmor. "Ambassador Elenwen, these are prisoners in the realm of Skyrim, under the jurisdiction of our Empire, perhaps you shouldn't get involved with their judgement."

"General! I am an Ambassador, am I not? and this – foul peasant and her 'friends' tried to assassinate me in broad daylight. Surely the Dominion won't be too happy to hear about this kind of chaos happening in Skyrim, and they might have to RETHINK if the Empire is fit to rule"

General Tullius gave me a look of 'why hadn't you finished her off, she won't get to run her mouth now if you had', and then he said, "Ambassador Elenwen, you are here on Diplomatic purposes only, please do well to remember that."

Elenwen wanted to say something but he had already rode off to talk to some of his men. There are so many colors flashing over on her Altmer smug that I didn't even know was possible. Before she rode to the side, she left me with a 'I will enjoy watching your execution.'

This whole time, she paid no attention to the men in my carriage with me, not Lokir, not Ralof, and not even Ulfric, Yarl of Windhelm. It is almost as if she didn't know they existed.

Odd, I noted. There's something odd about this.

"You were trying to kill the Thalmor?" Ralof looked at me with the kind of nauseating curiosity that is even worse than before. Same looks I saw on children listening to the tales from a Bard in the local tavern.

"Tried? Me and my men hunted those stray Thalmor justiciars and their elven guards. Thought we'd had her today and I got a dozen good men with me." I am not one to brag, but killing Thalmor dogs are what my Knifepoint Ridge Gang is all about. "…except it was a trap, that bitch had us surrounded, even got some mages with her too"

Shor's bones! I hate mages.

And I could tell that now even the leader of the Stormcloaks is looking at me with some surprise. Ralof exclaims in disbelief "Praise Talos! why did you and your men do all this alone? You could've joined our cause…"

I chuckled as Ralof gush as he realize that having their leader in gag and binds, destined for the chopping block isn't the best time for recruitment for their cause. "Save your tongue, Ralof of Riverwood, every Nord knows that you barely got enough Septims to pay the men you have already."

Ralof wanted to argue more but horse has pulled up near a few other carriages, filled with Stormcloaks in binds.

Lokir asked, "why have we stopped?"

"Why do you think? End of the line. Let's go. Shouldn't keep the gods waiting for us."

Lokir struggled to his feet while some imperial soldiers shoved him, "No! Wait! We're not rebels!"

How is this man a Nord? Shame on his family.

Even Ralof can't stand the spineless fool now, "Face your death with some courage, thief."

Something had snapped in that poor soul, Lokir got to his feet and ran, as he shouted "No, I am not a rebel, you can't do this!"

I closed my eyes as I saw a few imperial soldiers raised their bows. A coward's death, no Soverngard for Lokir of Rorikstead.

The imperials then proceeded to calling out our names and the list. Ralof muttered 'imperials and their damned lists" as he proudly joined the line beside his Yarl.

"Wait, you there, step forward, who are you?" I looked at him, a Nord man, wearing imperial armor. He seemed genuinely confused, I guess he wasn't briefed by that Thalmor just yet.

'Alvanna Windshear' I only gave him my name and curious to see what he'd do.

He carefully looked through his list, and was genuinely confused as he looked up to the woman in the captain's armor.

'Captain, What should we do? She's not on the list.'

The captain looked over to the side – and nodded slightly to Eleven who is sitting down enjoying her bowl of fresh fruit.

"Hadvar! Forget the list, she goes to the block"

Hadvar looked to me with some pity in his eyes, "I don't know what crime you did to end up here, Kinsman. Do you have any last wishes, or where we can sent your remains to."

I looked him straight in his eyes and sneered, "I didn't know killing Thalmor dogs is a crime on the imperial land, Kinsman? Look around lad, look at the people facing the block today. Tell me Hadvar, How many of these men were your brothers before this? You are a Nord, have you forgotten that?"

There was some fussing in the crowd as a distant roar was heard. And such no one noticed my conversation with Hadvar.

As I joined the line beside the Stormcloaks, I see that this young imperial soldier had some hesitance and shame written on his face. But alas, he was too insignificant to speak up. I didn't know why I said all that, perhaps I just couldn't stand watching a familiar face to stand amongst the imperials.

"My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?" Another proud son of Skyrim proclaimed as he met our maker today. "Rest in Soverngard, brother, for you have died honorably" I heard a murmur from another Stormcloak soldier beside me.

The imperial captain pointed at me, "Next! The Nord in the rags"

There it is again, a second Roar. Was it a bear? Or was it a sabercat? It was nothing alike anything we had known. It was getting closer.

Shoving the sentiment of uneasiness from the crowd aside, the wretched captain yelled "I said, Next!"

I slowly walked up to the block, laid my head down. A few strands of my red hair fell on my eyelid that I almost want to blow on them to clear my view. Praise Talos for a clean swing from that headsman, I hear sometimes it takes them a few tries, that would be bad way to go.

As I see the headsman walk up with his grim looking head cover and his blood-stained axe. There was no fear in my mind. It felt kind of unreal. Was this truly the day I go to Soverngard? Will I see my parents there, I have no clear memory of them at all, will I recognize them?

Will I even get to go to Soverngard? I hadn't exactly been innocent ever.

So this is it then? I watched as the headsman raise the axe over his head. He was breathing so heavy that you can see the steam coming out from his mouth along with glimpse of his rotten teeth.

And then, the ground shook slightly. A pebble of rock with some dusts fell on the back of the executioner. He was taken by surprise so he looked to his back. At first he saw nothing, and can't seem to figure out who or what had threw a rock at his back.

When he looked at me again, he realizes that I was staring, no, the whole town, the whole crowd of Stormcloaks and Imperials were all staring behind him. Or rather, above him.

The black scales glistened in the warm sun of Falkreath like Obsidian. The Ebony coat of this mighty beast is as dark as the Oblivion. Some sour scents were brooming in the air, I looked around and notice that some of the children had wetted their pants.

It was a dragon.