Peace was never something that existed in the world. It does not matter how joyful or prosperous a season may have been, there was never peace. Anyone that thought so was a fool. In the dark reaches of the unknown, evil brewed, just awaiting its chance to leap from the shadows and into the light, sending the world into a storm of chaos, fear, and terror. It would expose all vile traits that lurked inside each and every man and woman until the goodness inside everyone was minuscule compared to the treachery within them. This evil would be unleashed, but start out small in the form of a war. Sides would be taken, brother would turn on brother, and no solution would ever come.
This process had already started. The Civil War between the Imperials and Stormcloaks had begun many years ago, and each and every day the intensity between the two rival sides grew and grew. At the same moment, the roars of dragons would be heard far off in the distance. Helgen was already the first victim of the dragons, but, in the chaos of the war, the rulers and people payed no attention to the shadow that loomed overhead, but instead focused on the opposite side of them where their supposed enemies dwelt.
In the youthful days of the Civil War, many battles were fought small and far out from any nearby holds or villages. But as winter grew nearer and the war became more intense this particular year, battles could be heard from every hold, every village, and every cottage located in the solitude of the forest or the silence of the plains. It was hard to escape the sound of fighting when that's all that seemed to matter anymore.
There was something about this year that seemed... different from all the rest. It was as if the sky itself loomed just inches above their heads, waiting to fall and crush all inhabitants of the land it protected. It felt as if even nature had turned its back on the citizens of Skyrim. And it had with good reason, too. The way it was treated; being set ablaze, cut down, and treated no better than a doormat.
Perhaps one day, the war would draw to an end. Perhaps one day a side would claim its victory over another and all the fighting would be over. Or, perhaps one day, both sides would lay down their weapons and finally realize the foolishness of their fighting when all the living things that had once remained in the land were dead and gone.
But that day could not be foreseen.
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Frostwind - (Skyrim)
Fanfiction|FROSTWIND| {Tales of the North; Book 1} Elisrid Autumnleaf, who goes by her middle name and nickname, Holly, has forever lived in the frozen hold of Dawnstar. When she was very young, her father, a fisherman, went out to sea in the frozen ocean and...
