Wanderer

Prologue

          

         The wind played with my hair and made the snow around me dance a lighthearted beat. I looked down upon the small caravan, inspecting each man and woman closely. Most walked, but two rode horseback, their mounts as burly and steadfast as their Nordic owners.

         The one upon the dark horse wore a bear skin over his head, the snout obstructing my view of his face. The other, however, wore only a circlet, and I could see his face clearly. It was Ulfric Stormcloak, True High King of Skyrim and Leader of the Stormcloak Rebellion. I could smell them on the wind, they reeked of battle. Their step was weary and their shoulders sagged.

          They were tired.

          Suddenly, an arrow pierced through one of the soldiers, killing him instantly. I looked at the cliff above me and saw the owner of said arrow. These men dawned the red armor of the Imperials. Their uniforms were clean, and they looked as if they had just been well fed and had a good night's rest.

          Quite the opposite of the Stormcloaks.

          The ambush was sudden, and soon the Stormcloaks were overwhelmed.

          The self-perservationist in me told me not to involve myself in other people's matters. But my Nordic blood burned with rage at the invasion of my home, and the attack on my king.

          Both sides wanted to fight, but I could not interfere.

          As the Dragonborn, I should remain neutral in this war. However, as I turned away I thought of something. Ulfric has the Voice. His Thu'um killed the Emperor. The dragon in my veins roared at me to help my own kind.

          I gave in.

         With a groan, I brandished my sword and summoned flames. My cape swirled around me as I launched myself off of the cliff. I grabbed onto a branch on my desent and slowed my fall until I foot lightly touched the ground. I now stood between King Ulfric and a large Imperial regiment.

          " State your name wanderer!" The Imperial legate said, advancing slightly on me. The rest of his soldiers cowered from me. I guess I did look pretty frightening with the face of a dragon. I made this mask after my conquest over Alduin, in honor of the black dragon, I carved his face into it. Least to say, I looked pretty monstrous.

          I said nothing but tilted my head at him.

          " You are interfering with official Imperial business. Move or be moved." He said, a tremor in his voice. I smirked at his words. Try me, I taunted in my head. The legate eyed my sword.

         "Put the weapons down!" He said, signaling his men. They raised their bows and aimed them at me. I smirked again. Slowly and cautiously, I placed my sword down on the ground and raised my hands in surrender.

          " By the order of General Tullius you are arre-" the legate was suddenly lit aflame. Fire shot out of my hands expertly and engulfed the first row of Imperials. I rolled into the flames, now wielding my sword, and slashed at the next few soldiers. This continued for a while. Slashing and cutting, burning and scorching. While I don't like to resort to a violent resolution, bloodshed was an art I had mastered. Once the regiment had been ripped apart, I sheathed my sword and killed the flame in my hand. Turning to the Storncloaks, I was not surprised to see them ready to fight me. I had just taken down over twenty men with a few fluid motions, they had good reason to believe they were next.

          " Ulfric Stormcloak. You bring more trouble than I like to believe you're worth." I said, my voice echoing in my mask.

          " You have me at a disadvantage wanderer, your name?" He replied, sheathing his own weapon.

          " Wanderer is just fine." I said, advancing on him. His men collapsed in front of him in a protective arc. " You are lucky to have such loyal companions. Willing to die for you. " I remarked, pushing the barricade aside. The boy in the middle moved with ease, staring at me with wide, brown eyes.

        " That I am. My brothers and sisters at arms are the best family I could ask for." He said, watching me circle him. He was tall, his hair was smooth, unlike most Nordic people. His muscle mass was large, even for a sturdy people. I came closer to him, my face inches from his. I inhaled deeply, taking in his scent. He smelled like ash and sweat. He had been in battle.

" Your Thu'um, it is weak. You want it to be strong, no?" I said, inspecting his face. He had bright eyes that glistened against the fire behind us, and his jaw was hidden behind a fine beard. He was handsome, but nothing more than that.

          " My Voice is strong." He argued, his eyebrows furrowed in anger.

          " You're wrong. I can feel it. There is much room for improvement." I said.

          " And you can teach me?" He replied sarcastically.

          " I can. I trained with the Greybeards and learned their ways." I said. It wasn't a full lie.

          " And why should I let a stranger into my home and teach me the Voice? What's in it for you?" He questioned, his temper flaring.

          " I am not a fan of war, and you need to be on the throne." I said simply. " Of course, I can always walk away." I continued, turning away from him as if to leave.

          " Wait," he said, " teach me. Make my-- Thu'um-- strong." He said, testing the new word on his tongue. I smiled under my mask and turned to him.

          " Of course, my king." I said, pulling my hood up over my head. " Let's not wait."

          And with that, we were off.