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The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim - Hope	By : HeroOfStuds Category: +A through F > Elder Scrolls - Skyrim Views: 2015 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Elder Scrolls, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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The first thing I noticed was the dull, throbbing pain on the side of my head. The second thing I noticed was the sound of wagon wheels turning.

With a pained groan I opened my eyes; my head had lolled back while I was unconscious, so the first thing I saw was the tops of the trees. Looking to my side I saw I was on a wagon being pulled by an Imperial, with a few other wagons in front of us and Imperial riders scattered throughout. Panic, fear, and anger shot through my body. Those bastards - that was right. They had caught me. And now… gods, where was I going? “Hey, you; you’re finally awake.”

I finally noticed the other occupants of the wagon - a blond bearded Nord in front of me, Lokir to his side, and another blond Nord to my right. I recognized him as the leader of the Stormcloaks from his clothing and the gag covering his mouth “Yeah - I’m finally awake. God... where are we? How long was I out?”

The Nord in front of me gave a sympathetic look. “We’ve been travelling for some hours now, friend. Luck was not on any of our sides. You walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief there.” We both glanced at Lokir, who shot a sneering scowl back at us.

“Damn you Stormcloaks; Empire was nice and lazy. If you ha-”

“Shut up, Lokir. Now’s not the time,” I said with a sigh. “What’s your name, Nord? I’m Ulrich.” I gave the blond across from me a nod.

“Ralof, friend; well met. I would shake your hand, but…” He gestured to his bindings and my own with a humorous smile.

“Yeah, feeling’s mutual. It’s a shame it’s not under different circumstances.” I tried to give the Nord a brave smile; it wouldn’t do any good mewling like a coward, would it?

“Shut up back there!” The Imperial driving our wagon looked back at us with a venomous expression on his face before returning his attention to the road. The Stormcloak to my side gave an exasperated grunt at that.

Lokir nodded knowingly to him, his nervous voice betraying how he clearly felt.. “What’s wrong with him, huh?”

Ralof’s demeanor instantly changed. “Watch your tongue - you’re speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King!”

Realization surged through me, and apparently through Lokir, too, as his face now matched how anxious he sounded. “Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You’re the leader of the rebellion. If they captured you, then-”

“Lokir, shut up.” I snapped at him. “Just… be quiet. Sorry. I just… if we’re going to die, then…” I trailed off, my mind racing. What was going to happen to mother and father? Maybe the Imperials didn’t know who I was; maybe they’d see it all as a big misunderstanding.

“Hey - what village are you from, horse-thief? A nord’s last thoughts should be of home.” Ralof offered Lokir the same look of sympathetic understanding he’d just given me. Just then, we rounded a corner, and the stone walls of a settlement came into view. The gatehouse was covered with soldiers.

“Rorikstead. I’m… I’m from Rorikstead.”

Everything they said after that was just rambling to me. I looked up towards the sky. Gods, how did this happen? How did I get here? My parents were good people. I was a decent person. Maybe I flirted with too many girls, maybe I should’ve been a bit more kind to some people, but I wasn’t a bad person. I prayed for Talos to give me strength and I promised to be a braver man. To Dibella I prayed, pleading to let my family members feel my love and in return I would be a more loving person. I prayed to Mara to give me hope and I promised to be more charitable. Finally I prayed to Akatosh to give me his strength and wisdom, and in return I would be a better man. Were they even listening? Did the gods care at all about what I had to say?

The cart finally came to a stop and I snapped out of my stupor. Ralof gave me a nod. “You alright there, Ulrich? Up we go. Come, we don’t want to keep the headsman waiting.”

I gave him a weak smile. “Too right, friend. Let’s get to the party, shall we?” My insides were squirming. Anxiety and fear filled my entire being. All of us prisoners shuffled off the wagons, two Imperials waiting for us at the end of each. And… of course, the two waiting at the end of our wagon were the last two Imperials I wanted to see again in my life: the crazy officer who had used me as a step cushion last night, and the brown haired Nord who had knocked me out cold. The latter held a list in his hands and a quill, and was marking off names as prisoners told them who they were.

Lokir was certainly taking this much worse than the rest of us. “No, wait - we’re not rebels!”

“Face your death with some courage, thief.” Ralof’s voice was grim, rough, but dignified. It inspired more than a little courage in me, at least. If this was going to happen… well, gods be damned, I was going to be as dignified as these soldiers were.

“You’ve got to tell them, we weren’t with you! This is a mistake!” We all ignored him.

They called Ulfric, then Ralof; they and Stormcloaks from the other wagons made their way somberly over to the chopping block. “Lokir of Rorikstead.”

“No, I’m not a rebel, you can’t do this!” Without even waiting for a response, he took off running.

“Halt!” The two in front of me just watched, the Nord with a pained look on his face, the officer with a smug, fiery look on her own.

I couldn’t just stand by. “Lokir, wait!” It was too late. He was peppered by a trio of arrows from all different directions. I winced as they thudded into him and his body sank to the ground.

The officer turned back to me, her eyes piercing into my soul with that malicious gaze. “Anybody else feel like running?” Her comment was clearly pointed at me.

Gesturing to me with his parchment, the Nord gave me an apologetic look. “Step forward,” he said. “I’m sorry about hitting you. I’m sure you’re a civilian, but… well, captain’s orders. Who are you?”

I felt my heart drop like a stone thrown in a lake. Well… maybe I could lie my way out of this.

“I’m… Mathurin Delo-” I was cut short by the Imperial.

“Hold a second. Hadvar, do you remember that letter we received last week to be on the lookout for an ashen haired Breton?” She took a few steps towards me. I was a couple inches taller than her, but that didn’t stop her from shoving her face in mine. “Looks like this is that spoiled rat from the Imperial City.” My eyes glanced down; I saw her hand being balled into a fist, and she shoved it in a punch right to my gut that knocked the wind out of me. I nearly fell forward from the blow and from being taken so off guard. “Ulrich Panavan, that’s your name, isn’t it, scum? We don’t like criminals this far north, do we, Hadvar?”

I glanced up to the nord with the list. He looked guilty, saddened by this. “Captain… he’s not on the list, and we were suppo-”

“Forget the list. He goes to the block as well.” The officer punched me in the face, right on the spot already throbbing from being hit last night, and I nearly passed out from the blow.

Hadvar closed his eyes and blew out a pained sigh. “By your order, captain.” The captain kicked me to the ground and spit on my face before stalking off to the chopping block. Hadvar tucked away his parchment before coming over and pulling me to my feet. His guilt ridden face gave me the smallest twinge of satisfaction. At least somebody knew how stupid and cruel this was. “I’m sorry. There’s not much I can do, but… we’ll make sure you receive a proper burial.”

He was a few inches taller than me, but I stood on my tiptoes so that my eyes were even with and met his. I furrowed my brow and let off a frustrated snort. “Thanks. That means the absolute world to me. I’m glad you stood up for justice, Hadvar.” I said his name pointedly. I wanted him to regret this. This was wrong.

His eyes went to the ground and he said nothing more. We walked to the chopping block in silence; things were already getting started. I finally noticed a squat, middle aged Imperial in incredibly ornate armor. I took my place next to Ralof, who just gave me a somber nod. I closed my eyes and returned the look, my eyes opening just in time for me to get an all too perfect view of the headsman’s axe swinging down through the neck of the first prisoner. The sickening sound of flesh and bone being cut seemed to echo in my ears as I watched the red haired head roll off the block.

And that’s when I realized: my mother and father were already dead. Just as that red haired head was rolling to the ground, so too had my father’s.

I felt my heart sink once more. This was it.

The end.

Would it have been better to stay home and be captured, to die with my parents?

“Next, the Breton rat!” The captain looked at me gleefully; her moment of triumph was here.

A distant roar echoed through the mountains; the soldiers all looked around uneasily.

One of the guards looked to the captain. “There it is again, did you hear that?” I hadn’t heard anything before, but I was probably too preoccupied to notice. Whatever it was didn’t matter to me, anyway. I was about to die.

“I said, next prisoner!” Our eyes met; hers were full of a raging fire. She was enjoying this. She was one of too many people that revel in having power over others, a person so indoctrinated by the poison of cruelty that they could see anybody without power as beneath them, as unworthy of mercy and only worth as much as the dirt beneath their feet.

I hated people like that.

“To the block, prisoner, nice and easy.” Hadvar gave me a nod, his arms folded in an attempt to look confident, but we could all see it on his face: he hated every second of this, perhaps even more than those of us about to be executed did.

I nodded to him. I took a long, deep breath as I took my first step forward. What was it that Ralof had said? A Nord’s last thoughts should be of home? Well, I was no Nord, but maybe my last thoughts should be of home, too. No: they should be of family. My thoughts dwelt on them: first my father, then my mother. I hoped their deaths had been painless. Next I thought of my brother. He was my best friend. I hoped that, wherever he might be, he might be able to escape from this madness. He was a good man. Next I thought of my cousins, aunts and uncles. Which of them was the one that orchestrated this all? Did it matter, at this point?

I made it to the block. They’d barely made an effort to move the last person’s body. Looking at the blood on the block and the gore from the decapitated corpse, I suddenly felt like vomiting. The feeling was almost overpowering - almost. I was about to be a lifeless, headless corpse too. Nonetheless, I was determined to be like these soldiers. I would die with dignity and courage.

I knelt down and pressed my head to the block, the blood on it still warm and sticky. I thought of my childhood friends. Where were they, then? I wondered how shocked they would be to find out I had died like this. We’d always talked about being heroes, growing up to find glory and fortune… and here I was, about to be beheaded like I was some kind of murderer. I thought of a girl I had courted just a few years previously. I’d thought she was the love of my life. I hoped the best for her.

I looked at the headsman, but… no. I wanted to look at the officer.

I wanted her to know I wasn’t going to die like the rat she thought I was.

I looked to her and our eyes met: hers were filled with a hungry, maniacal glee, mine with a determined fire. I hoped so, at least.

Time seemed to slow down. Seconds seemed to turn to minutes to hours to days as the executioner lifted his axe. The end…

Maybe death wouldn’t be so bad.

I closed my eyes, ready for my fate, when suddenly, I heard a thunderous, deafening roar.

As my eyes opened, I saw the executioner fall to the ground as a giant black dragon landed on the tower behind him.
Chaos ensued.
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The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim - Hope