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Sins of the Dovahkiin	By : vivalavioletta Category: +A through F > Elder Scrolls - Skyrim Views: 5824 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Elder Scrolls: V Skyrim, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Immersive darkness covered her surroundings. There were occasional sounds of steel, horses and voices, but all that seemed to come from a dream. The cold entered her lungs and penetrated her skin. It slowly ate her alive. The cutting wind made her tremble for her linen shirt was too thin to cover most of her skin. And why couldn't she move her wrists? The voices were now closer and everything was moving around her. Her eyes looked up to the grey sky and noticed an eagle flying in the distance.

"Hey, you. You're finally awake."

Her attention was suddenly directed to the Nord sitting in front of her. He was quite muscular and had blonde hair with a braid hanging on the left side of his hair. His hands were tied like hers and he was wearing an unusual set of armor with some kind of blue scarf around his chest. "You were tried to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there." She turned her gaze to the thief, his complexion was much darker and unlike the Nord, he seemed to be rather terrified by what was happening.

"Damn you Stormcloaks..." The thief muttered. "Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy." Beatrix examined his face, maybe his complexion wasn't that dark, maybe it was just the dirt all over his face that made him look foreigner at the first sight. "If they hadn't been looking for you, I could've stolen that horse and be halfway to Hammerfell." Beatrix wrinkled her nose, she didn't like thieves and she didn't like people that blamed others for their own failure, but she was more interested in their talk about the Stormcloaks. There rumors in Cyrodiil about them and about the trouble they caused, there were rumors about Ulfric murdering the High King and so on, but she had never met a Stormcloak before. Being with them made their image clear in her mind.

"You there. You and me – we shouldn't be here." The thief said while looking at her. "It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants." Beatrix remained silent which was unusual for her; she was still processing everything in her mind and didn't know if the Legion arrested her by mistake or because they knew who she truly was – a mere Talos worshipper.

"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief." The blonde man said.

"Speak for yourself, Stormcloak." Her silence was broken; Beatrix had issues with being associated with criminals for she had spent most of her short life after those when she was part of the Fighters' Guild.

"Shut up back there!" And imperial soldier said, the blonde man looked at her a bit surprised, but the thief stole again the attention. "What's wrong with him, huh?" He asked while looking at the man sitting next to me, a Nord as well, but this one had his mouth covered by an old piece of cloth. He seemed to be larger than the Stormcloak, older too, but his hair was also blonde with a few and small braids. "Watch your tongue. You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King." Beatrix had barely noticed that man before, but from that time she couldn't help but to feel immensely curious about him. If he was captured it meant that the war was probably over, unless his men came back for him. She wondered if the Stormcloaks would give up their cause so easily.

"Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You're the leader of the rebellion…" The thief had come to this brilliant conclusion, making everyone in the cart wheel give him an annoyed look. "But if they captured you… Oh gods, where are they taking us?" He started to despair.

Beatrix sighed. "Well, it's a bit late for you to start worrying about that, no?" She paused for a few seconds before looking at the Nord in front of her. "You didn't pass out, did you? Do you know anything?" the woman asked.

The Nord looked away. "I don't know where we're going, but Sovngarde awaits." He answered.

Beatrix swallowed before replying. "Since the day we were born, kinsman."

"No, this can't be happening. This isn't happening." The Thief trembled; his fear of dying seemed to be greater than the others'. Beatrix was sad, but she would not panic. She had no home, no family, no friends, and apparently no future. She would have to spend the following years hiding from the Thalmor if she survived, maybe it would be better to die now. Beatrix was taught that only the cowards ran from their foes so her conscience would be light and clear. "Hey, what village are you two from?" The Stormcloak asked.

"Why do you care?" The Horse Thief asked in a defensive tone.

"A Nord's last thoughts should be of home…" the other replied. "Rorikstead… I'm from Rorikstead… What about you, lass?" The Thief asked her. Beatrix found herself speechless; the memory of her burnt house was still too near for her to want to speak about it. "I… never had a home." She answered.

"Some people weren't meant to lead fortunate lives." The blonde Stormcloak replied to her before a guard called. "General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting!"

"Good! Let's get this over with." A male voice answered, presumably General Tullius'. The prisoners exchanged looks, hoping that they heard it wrong. The Headsman was waiting for them. It was the end of the line.

The Thief muttered. "Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh. Divines, please help me." But everyone ignored him, the attention was suddenly turned by a man sitting on his high horse and wearing heavy red armor. "Look at him, General Tullius, the Military Governor. And looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves. I bet they had something to do with this." Beatrix's eyes were first fixed on the elf, but then she remembered they were after her and she quickly looked to the ground, letting her hair cover her face. She wanted the quick and clean death that the Imperials were about to give her, not being locked up by the elves and having them doing all kinds of bad things to her. "This is Helgen." Beatrix raised her gaze a bit and looked around, the village was pretty dull, dirty, poor and well… ugly, it would be better than dying in an old and forgotten cave though, and maybe her body would be burned later, like they do in the old Nord way. "I used to be sweet on a girl from here. Wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in..." The Nord finished saying, Beatrix barely knew him but she had already noticed that he was quite a talker. "Funny, when I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe." He added, she couldn't help but to nod in agreement.

Beatrix heard a parent saying to his child to go inside, the scene was about to get ugly. That was it. It was the end of their lives, yet Beatrix felt that she wasn't nearly as worried as she should be. Death was a curious thing, first you think that it only happens to others until it finally happens to you and you simply can't avoid it. The cart stopped, Beatrix swallowed. Everything had happened too fast.

"Get these prisoners out of the carts! Move it!" A woman ordered, she seemed to be the second in command, or at least acted like it.

"Why are we stopping?" The Thief asked, he surely wasn't very bright. "Why do you think? End of the line." The Stormcloak kindly answered, he seemed to be quite calm with the situation or at least accepted it much better than the Horse Thief and Beatrix herself. "Let's go, shouldn't keep the gods waiting for us."

The Thief was still in denial though. "No! Wait! We're not rebels!" he shouted. "That won't help, Thief. Stop shaming yourself." Beatrix told him. "Face your death with some courage, Thief." The Nord advised while they were getting off the cart. "You've got to tell them! We weren't with you! This is a mistake!" The Thief insisted, making Beatrix sigh – the man was definitely getting on her nerves.

"Step towards the block when we call your name. One at the time." The Imperial woman ignored the Thief's ridiculous pleas. Beatrix liked it better that way, she truly couldn't wait to die and for all this to be over. Maybe then she would feel relieved. "Empire loves their damn lists." The Stormcloak muttered, Beatrix would had smiled if she wasn't about to get her head cut off. The Imperials' excessive organization had always gotten on her nerves.

"Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm." The Imperial Guard called and Ulfric started walking to the block, carrying a certain air of fearless determination. "It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric!" Beatrix examined the Nord's expression while saying that, she could tell that even though he was going to die, the Stormcloak did not regret being part of the rebellion. He thought he did the right thing and he his conscience seemed to be clear. Back in Cyrodiil people said that Stormcloaks were just ambitious vandals that pillage and burned everything and that they couldn't even rule themselves. Beatrix found them to be quite the opposite now, for his bravery was shared by all his fellow companions. One thing was certain – they weren't acting like mere barbarians.

"Ralof of Riverwood." The Legion Officer called again and the man that she was talking to stepped forward, Beatrix said goodbye to him in her mind. She believed in Sovngarde, but couldn't be a hundred per cent sure that she would meet him or her parents or anyone at all after her head was cut off. Shame, Ralof didn't seem to be a bad guy.

"Lokir of Rorikstead."

"No, I'm not a rebel! You can't do this!" And having said that, the horse thief started running away with his hands tied. Poor fool, Beatrix thought and shook her head. "Halt!" The Imperial woman shouted. "You're not going to kill me!" Lokir replied, he sounded like he actually believed he was going to make it but it only took a second for the archers to hit him with their arrows.

"Anyone else feel like running?" The woman's voice was sharp and bossy, she was getting in Beatrix's nerves but she obviously kept her cool – everything was going to end soon, anyway.

"Wait. You there. Step forward." Beatrix's heart skipped a beat. Her main thought was that she was discovered, by the Gods, they had found her and were now going to deliver her to the Thalmor. Her feet started to walk but she felt like she would pass out at any moment with the nervousness. Beatrix could feel the sweat dripping off her face and made a huge effort to look relatively calm – the hardest thing to do at the moment.

"Who are you?"

Hold on, they didn't know who she was?

Maybe there was hope for a quick death after all.

"My name is Slava." Beatrix lied convincely.

"You picked a bad time to come home to Skyrim, kinsman." The Legion Officer answered, she gave him an annoyed look. Beatrix, now Slava, hated when people came to obvious conclusions. "Captain, what should we do? She's not on the list." He asked to his superior.

"Forget the list. She goes to the block." The woman said and so Slava walked to that direction. "By your orders, Captain. I'm sorry, Slava. At least you'll die here, in your homeland. Now follow the Captain." she heard the man say, but Slava just shrugged and didn't even turn her look to him while she was following the captain. She didn't need his sweet words.

"Watch your manners maggot!" A legion officer shouted.

The attention was soon turned to General Tullius and Ulfric Stormcloak who was being victim of an attempt of further humiliation by the General. "Ulfric Stormcloak, some here in Helgen call you a hero. But a hero doesn't use a power like the Voice to murder his kind and usurp his throne." The General stated, Ulfric was only allowed to grunt behind the piece of cloth that covered his mouth. Was this really necessary? "You started this war, plunged Skyrim into chaos, and now the Empire is going to put you down and restore the peace." He continued in a determined, almost arrogant tone. General Tullius seemed to want to keep with his glorious speech, but a strange noise interrupted him. A noise that Slava had never heard before and that made everyone look up to the sky.

"What was that?"

"It's nothing. Carry on." Tullius answered after a brief pause.

"Yes, General Tullius. Give them their last rites."

"As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessing of the Eight Divines upon you, for you are the salt and earth of Nirn, our beloved…"

"For the love of Talos, shut up and let's get this over with." A Stormcloak interrupted the priestess and stepped forward to the Headsman.

"As you wish." The priestess replied and stepped back. "Come on! I haven't got all morning!" He muttered again while the Captain made him kneel. "My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?" The Stormcloak defied. It took seconds for the Headsman to cut his head off and that was good, it meant that he executioner was no amateur and would provide them a quick death.

Some locals cheered, the Stormcloaks not so much obviously. "As fearless in death as he was in life." Ralof commented.

"You next, Slava!" The woman ordered, she was about to walk to her death when another strange noise came from the skies.

"There it is again. Did you hear that?" A guard asked.

"I said, next prisoner!" The Captain ignored her fellow Legion officer and Slava walked to her. She kept her eyes on the sky for a few moments, secretly hoping that something or someone would come and rescue her.

She felt her head lay on the wooden bench, already wet with the dead Stormcloak's warm blood. It stained her skin and hair. Slava had a great view of the Headsman there; they clearly wanted them to suffer until the very end. She felt hopeless and broken for a few seconds until she saw something flying from a distance. "What in Oblivion is THAT?" she heard the General ask. Her eyes went big as the Dragon landed on the tower behind the Headsman, her attention was suddenly concentrated on the creatures instead on the man that was about to kill her.

"It's in the clouds! Dragon!"
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Sins of the Dovahkiin