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st-alessia · 2 years ago

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Blood of Empires

Prologue

Journal Entry:

30th of Sun’s Dusk, 4E 200

‘Dearest Grandmother, how I miss you. To hear your voice; the stories you tell, the chime of your laughter, your words of wisdom and comfort, the warmth of your arms. Oh, what I would give to have you here with me again now! Yet alas, you were cruelly taken from this plane. Valerius will not speak of it again, the hurt is still too near to the heart and the injustice; it is a hollow ache followed by a burning. It feels like the infernos of Oblivion have opened a gate in my chest; to look upon the face of the man who destroyed what was left of our family, these past three years have been torturous without you and your guidance. My prayers to the Divines do not give me relief.

Val is nothing more than a puppet, playing the Emperor's dutiful soldier while I waste away in this gilded cage far from the last shred of family I have left. I cannot hate him for this, we made fools of ourselves, I was chastised like a child while Val was more harshly reprimanded. My husband has been vocal in regards to his supposed kindness to the Romulius family, by still allowing us some form of communication over these long years and miles apart. How he spits venom and none are wise enough to see him for the snake he is.’

Journal Entry:

5th of Evening Star, 4E 200

‘Valerius cannot divulge much information in regards to his station in Skyrim but he has filled pages upon pages in describing the northern country’s rugged beauty. Every Hold he visits, every fort he is stationed, even camped in the wilderness there is a beauty to nature that seems to enthrall him. He has even tried his hand at poetry! The man he has grown to be will have an easier chance of wooing a woman by showing off his battle skills than with his not-so-fancy words.

Alas I digress! My latest letter from Val has reignited a longing to my heart that I fear will lead to my downfall should I find myself trapped against all hope. After all the mundane letters with nary a sign of conspiracy, Amaund had finally relented in reading my letters to and from Val, this is what we had hoped for. Amaund will soon be too busy with the rest of the Elder Council preparing for the New Life Festival and a host from the Aldmeri Dominion, he and Rexus will be away for quite some time and will not be able to keep tabs on me. During that time, I will be making my way north to Bruma where I will be secreted away through the Pale Pass.

Val has been granted a leave from service but is mandated to remain within Skyrim’s borders. With a trip to Falkreath, it should be easy enough for him to slip away to meet me in the Pass; thankfully it has since been cleared of those foul ogres. The most I would have to worry about is the freezing cold, but Val assured me that he will be making the necessary arrangements.

Our house may be smaller than it has ever been since the Great War but we are still strong and still have many loyal subjects. The Romulius bloodline has wrought the allegiance of many houses. The Dragon’s Tongue flower of House Romulius, the Moons of House Hassildor, the Eagle of House Carvain. I miss the stories of you regaling us as children with heroes during the time of the last great era.

My favorite was how an unknown spellsword became the Champion and stood forth to safeguarded the last Septim Emperor before disappearing into obscurity once the jaws of Oblivion were sealed shut and the Emperor was sealed within the statue of Akatosh himself.

Those stories may come from a bygone era but I still draw strength from them. Although I am not as powerful as a mage or trained as a warrior, I will just have to trust in Val to see me the rest of the way.

Our blood makes us strong and we are stronger together.’

Journal Entry:

30th of Evening Star, 4E 200

‘The time has come. With my husband and his bodyguard being wrapped up with the Elder Council meetings—and blessedly distracted with the Thalmor—and will not be home for a few more days, this is the perfect time to sneak away. The plan is relatively simple, all I can do is pray and hope for the best.’

#skyim #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #elder scrolls

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incorrectskyrimquotes · 2 years ago

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As the night gave into twilight, as the stars faded, so did the darkness give way to light.

Her head hurt, that was the first thing she understood. Her head hurt. It felt sticky, too. Like she had been bleeding. She slowly pushed up from the thing she had been resting against… a man, it seemed. Tall, definitely taller than her. He wasn’t looking at her, he was looking away. She looked away from him as well, trying to understand her surroundings.

She looked down to see her hands and arms tightly bound. The leather restraints had bruised her wrists. They didn't hurt nearly as bad as her head, but they definitely still hurt.

"You're finally awake." She jumped, even though the voice that had startled her was gentle. She snapped up to look at the man across from her. He looked tired, but he was smiling all the same.

She blinked, wondering if she was supposed to recognize him. She tipped her head as she thought. She looked over his face, his hair, his outfit, trying to fit the pieces of him together. She liked the way the dawn light looked in his blonde hair.

"You got caught in the same ambush as us." His voice was still soft, he must have picked up on her confusion. "You were crossing the border, right?" He asked her.

"I… I don't know." She answered him honestly. She truly didn't have a single clue how she got here. She tried to think, but her head just kept hurting. She met the man's eyes. "Where am I?"

"Hey!" The final prisoner, the man in rags, spoke to her. "We shouldn't be here! It’s these damn Stormcloaks the Empire wants! You and me have nothing to do with it!"

"We're all prisoners now, Lokir." The blonde man spoke, giving him a slightly annoyed look.

"Where am I?" She repeated the question, because no one had answered it. "Who are you? What's going on!?" Panic began to bubble up within her.

"Hey, hey, it's okay! I'm Ralof." He smiled brighter, though it was clearly forced through his exhaustion. "You hit your head pretty hard. How much do you remember?"

Nothing.

She remembered nothing. At all. She fought through the pain, as she tried to recall a time before this. Any memories of life before this wagon at all. But she couldn't. There was nothing. And the more she strained her thoughts, the more her head hurt.

"Nothing." She whispered with her eyes wide. "I don't remember anything-"

"Shut up back there!" The coachman of the wagon snapped.

"Why don't you gag all of us, then!" Lokir snapped right back, before he looked to the man across from him, the man she had been leaning on. "Actually, why are you gagged? What's wrong with you?"

She wondered how Lokir expected him to answer that.

Ralof scowled. "Watch your mouth." His tone carried a warning. "That's the true High King you're talking to!"

He didn't look like much of a king to her. What kind of king ends up a prisoner?

"You're Ulfric Stormcloak?!" Lokir was beginning to panic more and more. "If they have you, what are they going to do to us?!"

Ralof leaned back, looking up to the sky. "Sovngarde awaits." He took in a deep breath, before looking back between her and Lokir. "Where are you two from?"

"Why does it matter?" Lokir's voice cracked.

Ralof gave him a serious look. "Our last thoughts should be of home."

Lokir was shaking harder now. He doubled over, barely holding himself up. "Rorikstead." His voice was stained with his tears. "I'm from Rorikstead. My father runs the inn. I shouldn't have left him. I shouldn't have left my brother."

"I've been to Rorikstead." Ralof kept his tone gentle. "A fine part of Whiterun." He turned to look at her. "You?"

"I don't know." She answered him honestly. "My memories are completely empty. I- I don't even know my name. Who I am. Nevermind where I'm from." She glanced to the stone walls, up ahead. "Or where I'm going."

"That's a shame." She looked back to Ralof as he spoke. "It must seem a short life for you."

She looked down, wondering who she's supposed to be. She was in patches and rags, and she was a prisoner. Whoever she was, she may not even be a good person. She wished she knew.

The shadow of a stone arch passed over them, She looked up and around at the town, wondering if it was supposed to be familiar. It wasn’t. She looked back down with a heavy frown.

"Helgen." Ralof spoke up again, determined to kill the heavy silence among them. "I used to see a man from here. He'd mix juniper berries into his mead, it was pretty good." He smiled, but it was distant and sad.

"General Tullius!" A new voice rang out from somewhere ahead that she couldn't see. "The headsman is waiting."

“Good.” Another voice called back. “Let’s finally end this.”

The wagon slowly came to a halt at the wall, a soldier leading the horses away. They were the last one in the line, with the other wagons already emptying. She thought about what Ralof had said. A short life, indeed.

“Let’s go.” Ralof stood up, undaunted by his fate. “We shouldn’t keep the gods waiting, it’s hardly polite.”

Lokir began to shake harder, panicking even more. He knew he was going to die. She felt bad for him, she truly did. It seemed that whatever authority was executing them was only after these “Stormcloaks”, not people like him or her who just got caught in the middle.

“No, wait!” He cried. “Please! I’m not a Stormcloak, I just took a horse! Is that really worth death?!”

“Have courage, Lokir.” Ralof was trying to sound reassuring, but he mostly just sounded tired. As she got out of the cart, he looked back at her.

Like he had done for her so many times now, she offered him a smile. If she was going to die, she should at least be friendly to the people she’s dying with. It would have been nice to get to know Ralof before she had to die with him.

“Step up to the block as we call your name.” One of the voices from before spoke, and she looked around Ralof to see two people she didn’t recognize. One of them, the woman, appeared to be of higher rank than the other. She had been the one speaking. “Hadvar?” She prompted.

Hadvar, the soldier, breathed in. He looked down at his book, a quill in his other hand. “Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak, of Windhelm.”

Ulfric kept his head held high as he moved to the block, towering over the other soldiers.

As he walked, Ralof spoke up. “It’s truly been an honor, King Ulfric.”

Hadvar’s eyes moved down the list. She spotted the way he seemed to hesitate, the way his eyes glassed over as he looked up. “Ralof.” He breathed. He seemed to keep himself steady, but she could see the very tip of his quill trembling. “Ralof, of Riverwood.”

Ralof silently moved past him, refusing to even look at him. They knew each other, she thought. They had to, there was no other reason for the way they had reacted to each other.

Hadvar breathed in before he continued. “Lokir, of Rorikstead.”

Lokir suddenly bolted, causing her to jump a bit. He sprinted past the captain, past the soldiers. The Captain raised her hand to a nearby archer, who took the signal instantly. Within a blink of an eye, the arrow sunk into the back of Lokir’s neck. Hopefully it killed him quickly. He crumpled to the ground, and all she could think about was the family he had mentioned. His father, his brother.

“You, there.” Hadvar spoke to her. She was confused by the look he was giving her, like he knew her. Maybe he did, she certainly didn’t know. “Come forward.”

She stepped forward, meeting his eyes. She glanced to the book, hoping he would read her name and her hometown, as he had for the others. It would be nice to have a name.

“What’s your name?” Her hopes were crushed by his question.

“Eryn.” She answered with the first thing that had come to her mind. She had only had a second to think, and it was the only thing she could think of.

Eryn, in spite of the circumstances, smiled. She would die with a name, at least.

Hadvar looked back down at his book, and then back up. “Where are you from, Eryn?” He asked her. She only shrugged at him. She didn’t know. “Uhh, right.” He turned to his apparent superior. “Captain, Eryn isn’t on the list. She’s the one-”

“Forget the list.” The Captain snapped at him, scowling. “She goes to the block. None of these worms leave alive today.”

Hadvar returned the scowl, just a little, but enough. “But-”

The Captain turned to face him fully, her tone harsh. “The block, Hadvar.”

Hadvar looked like he wanted to argue, but he ultimately sighed. “By your orders, ma’am…” He looked away from her, and to Eryn. “I’m so sorry.”

Eryn didn’t reply, if he was really sorry he would help her. She moved away from him, walking over to stand next to Ralof. He was the only person she felt like she knew at all. She didn’t want to die, but it was nice to die knowing something. Anything at all.

Ralof leaned over to whisper. “I thought you said you didn’t remember anything?”

Eryn leaned in too, shrugging to him. “Eryn was just the first thing I thought of.” She cracked a smile. “I guess I’ll just have that name for the rest of my life.”

Ralof snickered at the gallows humor, which made her laugh too. “It’s pretty.” He told her, still smiling.

"Ulfric." The distinct voice of Tullius captured everyone's attention. In spite of his much shorter stature compared to Ulfric, he was still equally as intimidating. "So many in Skyrim call you a hero." His voice was dripping with disdain. "But a “hero” doesn't use his Voice to murder his king and steal his throne."

Ulfric took a single step forward, yelling something that was muffled by his gag. Every imperial soldier moved, ready to restrain Ulfric if they had to.

But Tullius himself was unafraid. He didn't flinch. He simply drew his sword. "You damned your own homeland, your own people, into chaos. And I'm going to end it. Here and now. I am going to put. You. Down." He sheathed his sword, turning to the captain. "He's last. I want him to see his men being executed for his actions."

Eryn looked to her only point of reference, Ralof. She hoped he would give her some context, any at all. This seemed cruel, why should anyone be punished for someone else's actions?! But the look Ralof gave her told her it was far, far too much to explain right now.

Eryn looked up as the sound of something echoed through the sky. Everyone around her was equally as confused. If she didn't know better, she would have called the noise a roar.

Tulluis broke the silence, choosing not to acknowledge the noise. "Grant them their last rites, or whatever the nords call it."

A woman in robes stepped forward, raising her arms to the sky. "As we gift your souls into Aetherius, the love and light of the eight divines shine upon-"

A stormcloak soldier stepped forward. The woman next to him looked at him with worry. "Sorald, no, don't-"

"Nine." Sorald spoke with certainty and anger.

"Excuse me?" The priestess dropped her arms, glaring at him.

"Nine divines." Sorald began to walk towards the priestess, causing the imperial soldiers to pull her back, out of harm's way. But Sorald stopped, looking at the block, the headsman. "Let's get this over with."

He knelt down, laying his head on the block. "My ancestors are proud of me." He spoke as the headsman raised his axe. "Can you say-"

The axe came down, cutting off his last words. The crowd, including Eryn, flinched. She looked over to the other woman, the one that had been beside him.

She fell to her knees, sobbing. "You imperial bastards!" She screamed. Ralof knelt down beside her, trying to comfort her.

"He was as fearless in death as he was in life." Ralof told the sobbing woman. "He wouldn't have wanted it any other way."

"Justice!" "Death to the stormcloaks!"

Eryn glanced at the people behind her, cheering for this man's death. She tried to understand, she wanted to understand. She couldn't. Whatever this was, she had been ensnared in the middle.

"Next." The Captain was apathetic. "The woman in the rags."

That made Tullius look to the sentenced prisoners, to Eryn. "Wait, you're the woman from-"

Another cry wailed through the sky, this time so loud it made Eryn's ears hurt. Hadvar, next to the captain, kept his eyes on the sky. "That noise… what is that?"

The Captain didn't so much as acknowledge him or the noise. "Next prisoner."

Hadvar sighed, looking down, and then to Eryn. "Come up, Eryn. It'll be quick." His voice was gentle, but his face showed clear conflict.

Eryn’s heart dropped as her eyes widened. She felt genuine fear, feeling it spread through her body. She didn’t want to die! She didn’t even know what she was leaving behind! Would it hurt? What would come next? Her stomach turned over itself as she walked over, the adrenaline numbing her. She could barely even feel the ground under her knees as she knelt down.

An armored boot kicked her all the way down, causing her to lose her breath for a moment. Her neck crashed into the wooden block, and she let out an involuntary noise of pain. She looked up at the executioner, hiding his face behind a ringmail mask. But his eyes were showing, and Eryn looked into them. If he was going to kill her without question, he better look her in the eye.

The ground suddenly shook as a massive, spiked creature landed on the tower behind the axeman. The massive beast looked around, before throwing its head up. It let out a powerful and terrible roar, the echo of it causing the ground to tremble. Clouds and fire swirled into existence around it, blocking the morning sun and bathing the town in a dark and burning red.

From the clouds, rocks and fire began to slam into the town. One meteoric stone fell in between the executioner and Eryn. The executioner fell, seemingly unconscious. And she wasn’t far behind him. She landed on her back, the wind now fully knocked out of her. Her vision began to blur, darkness tugging at the edges of her mind. One of the only things she could feel was the blood under her back.

“Hey! Eryn!”

A distant voice was calling her, but it was getting louder. Her lungs screamed as she breathed in, trying to hold onto her consciousness, to her life. Something pulled her from the ground, hard. It snapped her back into her reality all at once, she scrambled to her feet. She looked up to see Ralof, who was trying to pick her up.

“Come on!” He yelled, and they both sprinted to the nearby tower. Ralof shut the door behind them, getting a barrier in between them and the dragon.

Eryn tried to catch more of her breath and get her bearings. She shook off the daze. “What is that thing?!” She yelled.

“A dragon.” Another voice answered. Eryn turned to see Ulfric spitting the last of his gag from his mouth. He was much calmer than everyone else.

“A dragon?!” Ralof echoed in disbelief. “Like the legends?!”

“Legends don’t destroy cities. Monsters do.” Ulfric answered.

Outside, a roar and a crash. Eryn took in a deep breath. "Let's move, now! We need to get out of here!" She looked over to the stairs up to the roof. It’ll be better to get to higher ground. She exchanged a look with Ralof, and they both raced up the stairs.

The wall exploded out, nearly killing them both. Eryn yanked Ralof back as they both watched the dragon open its terrible jaws and erupt fire. The heat made her eyes hurt, but she kept a tight grip on Ralof. The dragon suddenly pushed off from the tower, shaking it. They looked through the hole it had made.

Ralof looked around, and then down. “The inn!” He exclaimed, pointing to it. Jump for it!”

Eryn looked to the roof below, and then to him. “What about you?!” She asked, worried about him.

Ralof gave her a serious look. “I’ll follow when I can. I promise. Go!”

Eryn didn’t have time to think about it before she leapt from the tower. She rolled into the landing on instinct, getting rid of the momentum. She sprung up and looked back up for Ralof, but he was no longer there. She turned away, spotting a hole in the floor of the burning inn. She ran to it, jumping down to the ground.

She ran out of the building, one of the wooden beams collapsing behind her. She looked around for her next move, but spotted a man on the ground. He was bleeding. Heavily. Beside him, a child. Eryn began to run over to them, hoping to help the father, or get the child away from the danger.

“Run, Hamming, run!” The father cried, trying to shove his son away.

The boy shook his head, still trying to get his father to safety, with what little strength he had. "Dad- DAD-" He cried.

The dragon landed behind them, looking down at the pair, and then to Eryn. Eryn froze as those red eyes burned into her. She met the dragon's eyes, and for a moment, it distracted both of them. They stared into each other's souls. For just a second, Eryn understood something about this beast. That it had a name. That he had a name, and he knew exactly what he was doing. That he was evil.

He stared into her soul.

For just a moment, Eryn truly understood the concept of an enemy.

Someone else ran out from behind cover. This broke the trance both the dragon and Eryn had been in.

Eryn realized it was Hadvar who had run out, and she looked up in horror as the dragon was about to blast fire at him. He wasn't afraid. He slid forward, digging his shield into the ground just in time. He held Hamming close to himself, the fire splitting on either side of the shield, some of it burning his arm. But he kept Hamming close, protecting the child with his entire being.

The father had surely perished.

Hadvar looked up and around, trying to find safety. Eryn looked to a clearing in between the burning inn and a destroyed house. “Over here!” She called to Hadvar, running to the clearing, where another man was hiding.

Hadvar abandoned his shield, picking up the boy and running over to Eryn and the man. “Take the boy!” He told the older man, setting the crying child down. “Get him out of here, I’m going to join the defense!”

“How can I help?” Eryn stepped closer to Hadvar, looking at him seriously. She wanted to help, however she could. She had to help. She had to.

Hadvar blinked, but then smiled. He took out his sword, and used it to cut loose her binds. She rubbed her bruised wrists. "Let's get you to the keep.” He answered. “We'll find you some gear and we can figure out how to fight this thing." He turned away, looking out to the city. “Follow me!”

Hadvar ran, and Eryn followed right behind him. He led her through the burning city, ducking near walls to try and stay out of the dragon’s path of destruction. As they ran past Tullius, she heard him ordering a retreat. She looked around a bit, realizing that this town would be unsalvageable.

They came into the shadow of a large fortress-like building that Eryn assumed was the keep. Motion caught her eye to her left, and she smiled as she realized it was Ralof, running towards the keep. He spotted Hadvar and Eryn, and all three of them came to a stop. “Ralof!” Eryn was happy to see him.

Hadvar wasn’t. “Get out of the damned way you traitor!”

Ralof barely reacted to the raised voice, only narrowing his eyes a bit. “You can’t stop me. You know that.”

Hadvar snarled. “Fine! I’ll see you in Sovngarde, then!” With that, he shoved past Ralof, apparently leaving Eryn behind. Though, she suspected he had thought she would follow him.

Instead, she looked to Ralof, who gestured towards the closest door. “Let’s get inside!” He yelled, reaching out to grab her hand. He lead them both inside, barely getting in the door before fire burned on the other side of it.

“We made it.” Ralof panted.

Eryn leaned back against the door, trying to catch her breath. She was safe, well, safer than she would have been outside. For now.

#northern dawn #skyrim #skyim fanfiction #eryn #word count: 3562 #total word count: 5368 #yall im so sorry this took a hot minute and ik the ending is abrupt #i didnt expect to need to split this chapter in half #anyways ill get the ao3 vers up uhh later #im probably sleeping when this goes up #scheduled

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