Robin Smith: a Skyrim Story

Escape from Helgen Part 1

Robin was a male Imperial, not in the sense that he was a part of the Empire, but because that was the identification of his race. Contrary to Skyrim, he was born in Cyrodiil. He was well-built with fair skin, and scars on his right cheek and across his nose gave a permanent reminder of a hagraven attack on his village when he was a child. He had green war paint decorating his chin and jawline, a narrow, bridged nose, defined jaw, piercing gray eyes, thick eyebrows, thin lips, a jutting chin, a goatee, and light red shaggy hair that went to his collar bone.

The Imperial soldier interrogating me looked at the list and back up again. "You're a long way from the Imperial City. What're you doing in Skyrim?"

"What's it matter to you?" I snarled like a cornered animal.

Instead of responding, he looked at a woman who appeared to be the captain. "What should we do? He's not on the list."

The Imperial Captain replied, "Forget the list. He goes to the block."

The interrogator complied, "By your orders, captain. He turned back to me.
"I'm sorry. We'll make sure your remains are returned to Cyrodiil. Follow the captain, prisoner."

I reluctantly followed the captain to the block.

Tullius looked at the Jarl of Windhelm with a smart look on his face. "Ulfric Stormcloak. Some here in Helgen may call you a hero. But a hero doesn't use a power like the Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne."

Ulfric could only make a muffled grunt.

Tullius went on, "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 in the distance suddenly pierced the air. Everyone raised their eyes skyward. I felt something pulse through my bones, and it wasn't necessarily from the sound. It felt... familiar.

The interrogator looked worried. "What was that?"

Tullius replied, "It's nothing. Carry on."

The Imperial captain answered, "Yes, General Tullius." What a kiss-ass.

Tullius walked to an open spot while the captain turned to a priestess.
"Give them their last rites."

The priestess began, "As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Eight Divines upon you, for you are the spirits of Nirn-"

She was rudely interrupted by a Stormcloak soldier. "Oh, for the love of Talos, shut up and let's get this over with."

The priestess gave him a look of annoyance. "As you wish."

As the soldier stepped up to the block, he yelled, "C'mon! I haven't got all morning."
The soldier was shoved down to the block, and he met the headsman square in the eyes. "My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?"

Those were his last words. The executioner lifted the axe. The soldier threw a glance Ulfric's way as metal met with flesh.

A female Stormcloak soldier cried, "You Imperial bastards!"

The villagers didn't agree. They cheered.

"Justice!"

"Death to the Stormcloaks!"

Ralof lamented, "As fearless in death as he was in life."

The captain turned to me. "Next, the renegade from Cyrodiil!"

I inhaled sharply. I definitely wasn't going down as bravely as that rebel had.

Another roar made me freeze for a moment.

The interrogator said warily, "There it is again. Did you hear that?"

The captain shouted, "I said, next prisoner!"

The interrogator sighed and gave me a sympathetic look. "To the block, prisoner. Nice and easy."

I walked up to the block, my knees wobbling, and was pushed down. I looked up at the headsman. Was this really it?

The executioner hefted his axe a second time. I had no idea what he was thinking because of the ceremonial mask over his face. I definitely knew what I was thinking, though. If only I had a chance to turn things around.

A black mass arced through the sky above us. My eyes went wide.

Tullius saw it, too. "What in Oblivion is that?!"

In confusion, the captain turned to the tower. "Sentries, what do you see?"

A soldier exclaimed, "It's in the clouds!"

A Stormcloak screamed.

"Dragon!"