Chapter Text
Sound was the first of her senses to return. The creaking of wooden wheels turning round and round on a stone road broke through her foggy mind. She heard the occasional bird chirping in the distance along with other sounds of the outdoors. She could hear talking coming from somewhere behind her along with the clopping of horse hooves and the random swishing of a tail. Next she started to notice the smells of trees and various floras alongside the road, but none distinctive enough to give her any indication as to where she was. She then came to the realization that her hands were bound in front of her – and they hurt. She attempted to move her hands only to be greeted by sharp twinges of pain radiating from her wrists; she was not bound by just anyone but by someone who knew how to keep someone from escaping. Slowly her eyes opened her vision blurry at first, then clearing to show the back of an Imperial soldier’s helmet. ‘By the Nine,’ she angrily thought to herself. ‘I’m fucked.’
A blonde solider noticed her taking in her surroundings. “Hey, you. You’re finally awake. You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and the thief over there.”
“Damn you Stormcloaks. Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy. If it hadn’t been for you, I could’ve stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell. You there… You and me, we shouldn’t be here. It’s these Stormcloaks the Empire wants.”
She looked to the man next to the blonde, this one had brown hair and his eyes were wide with fear. She immediately sneered as it all came back to her now. This shameless cow-suckled vile excuse of a man tried to steal her horse and when she went to correct his mistake she had felt a heavy blow to the back of her head and then darkness had fallen upon her. She glared at the thief. ‘Spineless milk-drinker,’ she thought in disgust.
“We’re all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief,” this from the blonde in front of her.
A voice from the front hollered back, “Shut up back there!” She threw a glance towards the Imperial and imagined running a blade alongside his neck.
The thief, ignoring the solider, continued on, “And what’s wrong with him, huh?”
Out of the corner of her eye she saw the thief look to the space next to her. She turned to look and made eye contact with the man next to her. There was defiance in his eyes and his face was etched with the weight of many battles that had come with age. She quickly looked away as he seemed to study her as well; he was gagged.
“Watch your tongue,” the blonde Nord spat at the thief. “You’re speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King.”
There was more blabbering from the thief, but she was in her own thoughts now. Snippets of discussions her father and uncles had had around the hearth fire, boisterous talk of war and whispers of rebellion when they thought she was not awake and she learned the harsh realities of life from their lips. But that life had been ripped away from her long ago when she had to bury her father and uncles. Now it seems that Fate had determined that she would face the end she had been saved from all those years ago. The cart came to a stop. She snapped out of her thoughts as the thief cried out to the blond, “You’ve got to tell them! We weren’t with you! This is a mistake!”
She exited the cart and looked around. She realized that they were in Helgen, a small town she would miss if she blinked while riding her now lost horse. She focused her attention on the waiting headsman and the Imperials in front of her. How she loathed the lot of them with every fiber of her being. An Imperial called off names with instructions to approach the block. When the solider read the thief’s name, “Lokir of Rokirstead” he cried out, “No, I’m not a rebel. You can’t do this!” and started to run.
“Halt!” came the order from the Imperial captain.
“You’re not going to kill me!”
“Archers!”
Suddenly there was the sound of arrows in the air and Lokir dropped, three arrows having hit their mark with deadly accuracy. The captain looked at the condemned and asked, “Anyone else feel like running?”
At this point the soldier looked at her, a confused look on his face, he looked at his list again and then at her and says, “Wait. You there… Who are you?”
She held her head high and in a strong voice replied, “Raveena of Markarth,” but barely heard the Imperial’s “You picked a bad time to come home, kinsman.” She heard him tell her to follow the captain and turned on her heel, slightly sneering as she did.
The general was addressing the Windhelm jarl, “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 and usurp the throne.”
The jarl seemed to have some harsh words for the general, but the gag only muffled his words, the eyes though, they spoke volumes. Raveena wondered what those angry words might have been but from the rumors of rebellion she had been hearing since her return to Skyrim she had a good idea of what they had been.
“You started this war, plunged Skyrim into chaos, and now the Empire is going to put you down, and restore the peace.”
A loud roar was heard, the Imperial solider saying, “What was that?” Ravenna saw different people look around, but not many. The general merely stated, “It’s nothing. Carry on.”
Raveena watched as a priestess of Arkay began giving last rites. While she was in no hurry to have her head loosed from her body, she found the last rites dragging out the inevitable. Somewhat shocked she watched a Stormcloak walk to the block grumping, “For the love of Talos, shut up and let’s get this over with.” The priestess, resigned, walked away saying, “As you wish.”
The Stormcloak, proud as he faced his death, spat out, “Come on, I haven’t got all morning. My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?”
There was a whoosh as the axe came down, a spray of blood, and his head fell from his body, which was kicked aside.
“You Imperial bastards!” cried a female Stormcloak.
“Justice!” cried a Helgen resident.
“Death to the Stormcloaks!” came another.
Ralof, the blonde Nord from the cart, said “As fearless in death as he was in life.”
Then Raveena heard, “Next, the Nord in rags!” Death was a part of life, one she had outlived by thirty years. She had regrets, who didn’t? But you can only outrun the axe for so long. The sky rumbled again.
“There it is again. Did you hear that?”
The captain, irritated, repeated, “I said, next prisoner!”
Raveena heard the solider say, “To the block, prisoner. Nice and easy.” She felt the foot against her back forcing her down, “Imperial bitch,” she breathed as she offered a quick prayer to Talos.
Suddenly the sky rumbled for a third time and then, perched atop the tower, Raveena saw it. She could not believe her eyes. “Is that a dragon?!”
That’s when chaos erupted. She heard the general yell, “What in Oblivion is that?!” amongst a cacophony of voices and roars from this black beast with flames spewing from its mouth. She laid there, head still on the block, frozen more from shock than from fear. “Hey, Raveena! Get up!” yelled Ralof. “Come on, the gods won’t give us another chance!” That spurred her into action. She climbed to her feet and started to run through the rising smoke and flames that licked her fur wrapped feet. She caught sight of Ralof and the jarl near a tower and ran towards them. Ralof pushed Ravenna into the tower and slams the door behind them. Trying to catch her wits, she listened to the men.
“Jarl Ulfric! What is that thing? Could the legends be true?”
“Legends don’t burn down villages,” came the throaty voice of the jarl.
“Up through the tower, let’s go!” Ralof started up the stairs, Raveena two steps behind. As Ralof neared the top of the stairs, the dragon broke through the wall, Ravenna jumped back to avoid the blocks of stone that exploded in front of her. She felt the heat before she saw the flames erupt past her. She looked down to see the jarl watching her, then she continued up the stairs until she stood next to Ralof.
“See the inn on the other side? Jump through the roof and keep going! Go! We’ll follow when we can!”
Raveena nodded, looked across and judged the distance she had to jump. She took a running leap out the side of the wall and landed with a thud on the floor of the inn. Unfortunately there was no longer stairs in the inn, only a huge hole in the floor. ‘This is going to hurt,’ she thought as she jumped down onto the bottom floor, landing slightly off kilter and feeling pain shoot up her leg from the hard landing. She ran out of the inn, turned the corner of the building and right into the Imperial solider who had been reading the names.
Seeing Raveena he shouted, “Still alive, prisoner? Keep close to me if you want to stay that way. Gunnar, take care of the boy. I have to find General Tullius and join their defense.”
“Gods guide you, Hadvar.”
She followed Hadvar, following his cues all the while looking for her chance to safely escape. She was no fool; she knew that if she stayed with him it was only prolonging her execution. At least with escaping she had a better chance at staying alive as a free woman. Suddenly she saw him.
“Ralof! You damned traitor! Out of my way!” Hadvar yelled.
Ralof looked at Hadvar, a glint of daring in his eyes. “We’re escaping, Hadvar. You’re not stopping us this time.”
“Fine. I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde.” Hadvar looked at Raveena. She sneered at him.
“You! Come on, into the keep!” She ran to Ralof, her chance at survival had arrived.
#####
The door slammed shut, blocking most of the sounds from outside. Raveena saw the body first. Ralof sighed deeply. “Gunjar, my friend. T’sun has a good fight when you approach.” He turned to Raveena. “Here, let me loose your hands. Take what you need from Gunjar, you need them now.” He untied her chaffed wrists, which she quickly flexed to get the circulation going again.
“You knew him?” she asked as she stripped the solider of his armor.
“We trained together, patrolled together often. I knew his family, his sister…” he trailed off. He was examining the doors when he heard voices. “Imperials!”
Raveena grabbed Gunjar’s weapon, an axe, and stood behind Ralof, waiting. The door opened and Ralof attacked, taking the captain by surprise and Raveena quickly disposing of the soldier. Ralof looked impressed at her skill as he said, “Search him for a key, we need to unlock this door.”
She nodded and began emptying pockets. She found a bit of coin, a key and she took his sword. “Found it,” she said as she tossed Ralof the key.
Ralof watched her movements, so deft and agile. ‘She is no mere traveler,’ he thought to himself with slight admiration. He caught the key and unlocked the door.
“Stormcloaks!” came a surprised shout.
Ralof and Ravenna sprung into action immediately, sprinting into a charge as they rushed the Imperial soliders, quickly bringing both down within a few swings of their weapons. Raveena instantly looted the bodies while Ralof grabbed some potions before they ventured further down into the keep. They heard sounds of a fight and they lightened their steps until they saw the Stormcloak uniform. They drew their weapons and rushed forward, a battle cry erupting from the depths of Raveena’s gut. It was a torture room.
“Bastards!” she said through clenched teeth. Her sword sliced through the torturer’s neck, severing the jugular. Blood sprayed across Raveena’s face as it spurted out of the torturer, who instantly clamped his hands on the wound in a vain and desperate attempt to stop his lifeblood from gushing out of his body as he fell to one knee. She stood there a moment, watching him gasping through blood drenched lips. She sheathed her sword, then took the blunt side of her axe and brought it crashing down upon his skull, ending his life quicker than she would have liked. She heard the resounding thud as Ralof brought his axe down upon the assistants head while opening his stomach with the other. The assistant’s intestines, having gotten hooked on the curve of the axe as it had cut across his stomach, spilled out of him and onto the blood stained floor.
They gave the surviving Stormcloak some potions. “These Imperial dogs need to die,” the newest addition said. “There’s an exit down this path, but Tullius posted guards there.”
Ralof nodded. They slinked their way through until they came across a cave. Ralof motioned for Raveena to go for the first one, and then he motioned for their companion to rush the other two across the bridge. He counted off three using his fingers and they sprang into action. Raveena brought the axe down onto the unsuspecting soldier’s head; as his body slumped down, she thrust the sword through his ribs, piercing his heart. A pool of blood formed under his body, the sickly sweet smell assaulting Ravenna’s nose, flashing her back to that day in Markarth. As her mind dragged up those memories from her teen years she felt the rush of anger and hatred come rushing back to her as if a dam had broken. She looked over to see her companions finishing off the others and she sprinted over. She grabbed the archer’s bow and grabbed his arrows.
“Ralof,” the soldier said, “I am going to wait here, in case any of the others...”
“Aye, good idea, Brigid. Talos be with you.” He looked at Raveena, “Let’s go, if we hurry we can make it to Riverwood. My sister Gerdur will help us.”