Survivor (A Skyrim Fan-Fiction)

Chapter One

"Come on Em, you have to go! It's going to be one of the biggest feasts Skyrim has seen in years. People from the whole of Tamriel are travelling miles and miles just to be there. And you're invited, personally, by Ulfric himself but you're still refusing to go!"

Erik, my closest of the few friends I have, was standing by the main fireplace in Lakeview Manor with an invitation to Ulfric Stormcloak's great feast to celebrate his success in the war clutched tightly in his dirty hand.

"You're one of his most trusted allies. Stormblade... A huge honor. You have to attend!"

His bluey-grey eyes met mine, his normal kind and gentle gaze now switched with desperation and hope. I remained brooding in a seat by the fire, staring into the flames and reliving that terrible day in Solitude when the homes of friends and foe alike burnt to the ground to be made into nothing other than a pile of ashes.

That day was a rising sun for the Stormcloak cause, yet the sky was still covered in clouds, and the sun's rays were yet to be seen. We had won the battle, yes, but we had lost too much to call it a victory. I, for one, lost my long and faithful war hound Meeko, who fell at the knees of a blood-thirsty Imperial.

"I bet he doesn't even remember my name," I mumbled hopelessly. "Besides, I'm sure he'll have his mind on far more important things than myself."

Erik chuckled, "Oh no, quite the opposite in fact. I heard a rumor the other day in the Dead Man's Drink that he's out to find him a lady friend – a spouse! He needs to get an heir to his throne or who else is going to keep the Stormcloak bloodline? All that fighting for naught, eh?"

He walked over to the table, threw down the letter and picked up a tankard full of mead in its place. 

"Let's be honest here," I started. "What is the chance of him picking me out of all of the noble ladies that are going to be there? I'm not the high-born girl he's in search for. I haven't been taught the rather pathetic formalities that are emptily said in court, and quite frankly I don't really care. If you want to go then by all means go, but don't expect me to come running after you."

The boy from Rorikstead who had been a loyal friend ever since I met him outside tending to the crops in the farming village had a last swig of mead before setting the tankard softly down on the surface.

He said in a quiet voice, "You know I've always wanted to see Windhelm. I've done things I didn't want to do for you... Remember that."

And with that, he left the room without another word.

I let out a frustrated sigh. I hated disappointing Erik, but I had seriously lost my sense of adventure. I think a war does that to you.

I haven't been out for weeks, remaining in the modest seclusion of my land in the green forests of Falkreath. It had a beautiful view, overlooking Lake Ilinata and one of Skyrim's tall and serene mountains.

What's the harm in going to Windhelm, I thought. I'm not doing anything, just wasting my time following the same schedule everyday – doing absolutely nothing.

I need to explore.

This will be good, for me and Erik both. We've been lazing-well, no, I've been lazing around for too long and this is the perfect situation to get back out there. And besides, Ulfric's a good friend, it'll be nice to see him and the notorious Galmar Stone-Fist, the Jarl's right-hand man. I always choose where we go; I'll let Erik choose for a change.

Travelling to Windhelm, the city of which Ulfric is ruler of, only takes two days at most to travel to by carriage. I'm sure he'll let us stay in the Palace of the Kings if we wish, but if not there's always the little home Hjerim which I own within the city walls.