Pretty Face (Book 1)

Chapter 1

As the sun rose and dew gathered on the autumn leaves, I realized it had been far too long since I checked my map.  The more I looked at it, the more hopelessly lost I became. What I did know for certain was that I was most likely somewhere in the Rift or perhaps even southern Eastmarch, when I had hoped to cross over somewhere in Falkreath. I had never been to any hold but Whiterun, but at least Falkreath would've been closer to home. My horse didn't appreciate the delay, or the constant rustling of the paper just behind her head. I wasn't a very experienced rider, and it certainly showed. I put the map away to keep her pacified, hoping that I would find someone who could give me directions soon.
As I continued north, I fell in behind what appeared to be a military caravan. They weren't Imperial soldiers, but I still didn't know enough about the war to guess whether they would help me or not, so I kept my distance. A few of them passed me some suspicious glances, but ignored me otherwise. Leading the caravan was a large man on horseback, wearing a thick fur coat. A noble, or perhaps even a Jarl. But why would a Jarl be leading a military caravan?
Perhaps it was a bad idea, but I followed the soldiers hoping that they knew where they were going. By midday, we reached a small mining village; Darkwater Crossing, according to the locals. Oh no. I was indeed in southern Eastmarch, already too far out of the way to get to Falkreath. I would have to go all the way around the Throat of the World, the largest mountain at the center of Skyrim, in order to even get to Whiterun city. Rorikstead was a full day beyond even that.
As I was discussing my route with the mine owner's wife, the mine owner himself was having a tense conversation with the nobleman that led the caravan. I couldn't quite hear what the nobleman said, his voice deep but soft. The mine owner only shook his head.
"No, Jarl Ulfric. I'm sorry, but no. If the circumstances were different, you'd be welcome, but I can't risk everyone's lives like that." He said, just loudly enough for everyone nearby to hear. As they continued to argue in hushed tones, I noticed a little man crouched alongside the Jarl's horse. I opened my mouth to say something. I wasn't sure what I could say or do to stop the horse thief, or even if I should, but before I could even decide, chaos unfolded.
More than a dozen Imperial soldiers flooded the small village, clearly lying in wait for when the Jarl would arrive. I froze as archers sprung up from the rooftop, their arrows aimed at my face. One Imperial grabbed a soldier near me and cut her throat, her blood spilling in the dirt. He looked up at me, and I knew I was next. I scrambled to climb onto my spooked horse, but he was there in an instant and pulled me down by the collar of my shirt. My skull cracked against the hard ground and my ears began to ring; the last thing I saw before my vision began to fade was my horse darting away, too swift for each soldier that tried to grab her. At least she knew when to run.

~

I wake up to the gentle swaying of a carriage and fur tickling my nose; the realization strikes me and I shoot up, remembering that the last time I was in a carriage, it took me much further from home than I ever hoped to go. My hands were bound tightly with rope, and in the carriage with me is one of the soldiers, the horse thief, and the Jarl; it was the Jarl's shoulder I was sleeping on.
"S-sorry..." I stutter hopelessly. He doesn't reply because he can't, because he is bound as well as gagged, unlike the rest of us. I don't even know if he heard me.
"Hey, you, you're finally awake. You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into the imperial ambush, just like us and that thief over there." The soldier across from me chattered.
"Damn you Stormcloaks. Skyrim was fine before you came along. Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you, I could've stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell by now." The horse thief said before he looked at me. His ruddy face and dark eyes seemed familiar, but I couldn't place him. "You and me, we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants." He said accusingly. Even now, I could tell he was trying to organize some sort of alliance to escape. The soldier didn't seem offended.
"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief." The so-called Stormcloak replied, shrugging. One of the imperial soldiers sharply told us to shut up. The thief scoffed at them, then looked to the gagged Jarl. He sat leaned over with his elbows on his knees, a sign of a defeated man. The thick, dark grey cloak over his hunched shoulders made him look more beast than man. He hung his head, his eyes on the floor.
"What's wrong with him?" the thief asked.
"Watch your tongue! You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King!" The soldier commanded. High king? Why would they arrest him? And what in the world was he doing here?
"The Jarl of Windhelm? You're the leader of the rebellion! If they have you have you... Oh gods, where are they taking us?!" The thief exclaimed, frantic. At his words the Jarl's head shot up at the thief, making him flinch slightly. The Jarl turned to his soldier sitting across from me, who gave him a grim smile.
Finally the Jarl turned to me, and I sat stunned. His eyes were a storm of blue and grey, with flecks of green so bright they looked like lightning bolts. I thought they flashed with some sort of emotion but very quickly they again seemed void of any emotion but sadness, brokenness. Failure.
"I don't know where we're going, but Sovngarde awaits." The soldier said grimly as I snapped out of my trance. The Jarl however, wouldn't look away from me. The thief continued to ramble worriedly on the other side of the carriage.
"Where are you from, horse thief?" The soldier asked quietly.
"Why do you care??" The thief spat.
"A Nord's last thoughts should be of home." The soldier said patiently as the Jarl nodded slightly in agreement. The tension in the thief's eyes lessened slightly.
"Rorikstead... I'm from Rorikstead..." That must've been how I recognized him. Still, I couldn't place him. We reached the gate of a village, and he mumbled some sort of prayer to the divines. The soldier pointed out the military governor, General Tullius, discussing something on horseback with some elven soldiers, making a remark about how they probably had something to do with our capture.
"This is Helgen. I used to be sweet on a girl from here. I wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with juniper berries." The Stormcloak reminisced. We were silent for a while as the carriage pulled through Helgen.
Maybe it was better this way. I had no one to go to except Erik, and there's a good chance he wouldn't have even wanted me. For all I knew, he could already be married with a family. I'd considered trying to find Aela, but what if she met a similar fate? The carriage pulled into a sort of courtyard and stopped.
"Why are we stopping?" The thief asked, practically on the verge of tears by now.
"Why do you think? End of the line..." the Stormcloak told him. We filed out of the carriage in a line.
"You can't do this! We're not rebels!" The thief desperately cried.
"Face your death with some courage, thief!" The irritated Stormcloak told him. An imperial captain and a soldier stood in front of us.
"Step up to the block when your name is called!" The Captain commanded. The soldier next to her opened a book he had been holding. The Stormcloak mumbled something about the Empire and their lists.
"Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm," he called out. The Jarl stepped away from us without hesitation, his feet slow and sluggish.
"It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric." The Stormcloak says.
"Lokir of Rorikstead," Lokir? Lokir!  My old childhood friend, reunited after all these years, and here of all places. Lokir stepped forward on shaking knees, then exploded into a final, terrified protest. He ran on his scrawny legs, bare feet slapping the stone. The Captain called for her archers and one of them immediately shot poor Lokir square in the neck. When I saw the arrowhead come out on the other side of his throat and his unblinking eyes, a wave of nausea overcame me; His body skidded across the rock path, breaking the leather ropes on his wrists as it went. I guess he got what he wanted, in the end. I vomited on my shoes.
"Anyone else feel like running?" The Captain asked. No one said a word, and the soldier turned back to his book.
"Ralof of Riverwood." He called. The Stormcloak walked away from me, leaving me alone. I waited in fear for him to call out my name, my tied hands trembling.
"Who are you?" He asked in a gruff voice. I looked up at him, his kind eyes sad and apologetic, as if he knew I didn't deserve this but couldn't question orders.
"N-Novariana of..." I stuttered, unable to tell him my birthplace. He flipped through the pages a few times.
"You from Daggerfall, Breton? Fleeing some court intrigue? Captain, she's not on the list. What should we do?" He asked. A spark of hope lit in me, they knew I wasn't supposed to be here.
"Forget the list, she goes to the block!" The captain barked.
"By your orders, Captain. I'm sorry. We'll make sure your remains are returned to High Rock." I wanted to tell him that I would rather be buried in the same cemetery as my mother outside of Rorikstead, but there was a lump in my throat. I followed the captain to the lineup with the other prisoners. I arrived in time to see General Tullius speaking to the Jarl.
"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!" The Voice? Murder? Even from a distance I could see the Jarl's eyes blazing with anger as the General scolded him like a child. I realized I could hardly stand and I felt that ringing sound in my ears growing louder and louder. A priestess stood in front of us and gave what I assume was our last rites; I could hardly hear her. A Stormcloak soldier interrupted her, shouting something as he stepped forward to the block. The Captain stepped behind him and kicked him to the ground. The executioner, a massive man in a black mask, rose his blood-crusted axe high in the air and brought it down swiftly and cleanly on the soldier's neck. Though I say "cleanly," blood squirted from both the body and the head as it rolled off into a basket. I muffled the shriek that came out of me, getting the attention of the Captain.
"Next, the Breton!" She commanded as she kicked the body to the side. I trembled even more. I glanced around at the Stormcloak soldiers around me, desperately searching for another option. They only stared at me sadly, none more sorry than the Jarl himself. I began to take a step forward, but was interrupted by a ghastly moan that erupted from the sky. It was so loud the ground shook beneath me. Many of the prisoners and villagers looked to the sky, but the Captain didn't falter.
"I said, next prisoner!" I stumbled forward and knelt my head on the block, still wet with the Stormcloak's blood. In a last attempt to save myself, I turned my head to the left instead of looking at the ground. I looked at the executioner, pleading for my life with only the expression on my face. The cold man didn't falter either. He began to raise his axe in the air when we heard the sky groan again, this time louder.
Something huge and black slammed into the tower behind the executioner, the impact itself enough to knock him to the ground beside me. The creature screamed and flaming boulders began to fall from the sky. A bit of rock struck me in the back of the head and a burning pain spread through my skull, blurring my vision.
For a moment I think I must be dying.
I held very still and waited until my vision cleared slightly. I stumbled away from the block, doing my best to stand with my hands tied. Was this death? I heard someone calling my name, and for a moment, it sounded like my father. Not the drunken monster that ruined me, my father that loved me and my mother. I ran towards his voice, toward a blurry figure that looked something like him standing at the door of a stone tower, urging me to come to him. .// fan art credits go to http://www.deviantart.com/art/Skyrim-401251346