The Return of the Bloodmoon - Part 1: Destiny Doomed

This is an Elder Scrolls Fanon - The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
== Prologue ==
“You need to go, quickly, before they spot you two!”
“Namelia, I can’t –“
“Maverick, you have to! We have Keira to think about!”
Their werewolf pack was losing ground, bodies of both sides littering the ground with bright red blood spilling into their once blue lagoon. The Aldmeri Dominion, Altmer or High Elves, had come to claim their land to further advance their agenda to claim all of Tamriel, starting with their home in Morrowind.
“Mom, I won’t leave you!” Keira piped up, stepping in between her parents.
“You don’t have a choice! I need to stay, but you two can go! Go to your father’s homeland, Skyrim! Remember your training, Keira. Remember what you need to do.” Namelia countered, ushering them with her giant claws as she had already transformed into her werewolf state.
“Mother! Father! No!”
== Chapter I: Unbound ==
Hooves trotting down a man-made path, cart wheels spinning along the way, and the gentle breeze blowing as Keira woke to find herself onboard a prisoner cart with three others as the last thing she remembered was a gloved fist making contact with her face. As it stands, Keira was definitely not in the right state of mind, mood, and circumstance to try and escape the cart. Being surrounded by soldiers and having your hands tied didn't make for great means of leaving.
“Hey, you, you’re finally awake!” A man across from her greeted, eyes studying her briefly. He was a Nord man, gruff in build and soft in the face. Blonde hair to his shoulders and a matching beard, the man’s ocean blue eyes and features in the face made the man a contradiction – a peaceful soldier.
“…” Keira was in no mood to talk, given she wasn't fully aware of her surroundings and problem. For now, she would remain quiet until necessary.
“You were trying to cross the border right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there!”
“Damn you Stormcloaks, Skyrim was fine until you came along. The Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you, I could’ve stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell.” The man next to the blonde proclaimed, before looking over to Keira. “You there, you and me, we shouldn't be here, it’s these Stormcloaks the Empire wants.” He was a Nord as well given the comparison between the two men in front of Keira; inky black hair, the body a bit lanky but held some muscle, skin tanned by the rays of sunlight.
“We’re all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief.” At one point in their discussion the Imperial guard guiding their cart had told them to shut up, but was ignored.
“What’s wrong with him, eh?” The thief asked, as Keira looked to see another blonde man next to her, gagged and wearing a fur cloak. His face held no peace, and neither did his hazel eyes. Those eyes, however, held pain and a fire in them, a fire that burned Keira to the core for a mysterious reason. The fire Keira could not place, but it was familiar nonetheless. The man’s build was impressive, although most left to imagination given the fur cloak he wore not only covered him well but added extra padding. This man was used to the cold, apparently. As for his face, it was etched with a few stress wrinkles that caused him to look much older than he could have been, as well as a few scars in discreet places. Perhaps he was older, it was hard to tell in these lands, and if Keira had to guess maybe he was in his late thirties? Compared to Keira’s twenty old self, it was possible.
“Watch your tongue! You’re speaking to Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King!” The first blonde cautioned to the thief. 
Keira could care less about who they were at the moment, for not too long ago she had just witnessed merely days before her parents die by the hands of the Thalmor. When she tried to cross into Skyrim as her mother told her, she was taken prisoner – accused of being a rebel. Keira couldn't fight back, lest the battle reveal who she really was, besides being a Nord. She didn't need that happening, as it wasn't time yet.
“Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You’re the leader of the rebellion. But if they've captured you, oh Gods, where are
they taking us?” The thief asked, fear apparent in his form.
“I don’t know where we’re going, but Sovngarde awaits.” The blonde across from Keira said with a grim undertone to his voice.
“No! This can’t be happening! This isn't happening!” The thief cried with panic in his tone that matched his expression, his ebony eyebrows trying to attach themselves to his hairline as high as they were, eyes wide in disbelief. A minute passed, but it felt much longer for Keira as the ride seemed to never end, Keira doing well to not let out an annoyed sigh at the idea.
“Hey, what village are you from, horse thief?” The blonde asked as a gentle smile graced his face.
“Why do you care?”
“A Nord’s last thoughts should be of home.”
“Rorikstead. I’m… I’m from Rorikstead.”
After a few quiet moments where Keira got her bearings as during their conversation she was recovering from her grogginess, as all four of them looked beyond to see where their fates lay.
“General Tullius, sir, the headsman is waiting!” A soldier had cried out from beyond them as they were entering a small village of sorts, slight confusion on the face of Keira as she tried to look further ahead, her own ebony colored brow rising slightly as the other remained still.
“Good, let’s get this over with!” The man presumed to be Tullius replied in a coarse voice. Keira turned her head to the right to spot him with some Thalmor, a growl nearly escaping her at the sight, the confusion fading into a deep scowl – her brows furrowed upon her green eyes before she collected herself to return her expression to its neutrality. Turning back to face the two men in front of her, she noticed the blonde man bristle as his blue eyes spotted them too. What Keira didn't notice was Ulfric’s hazel eyes on her from the moment she spotted the Thalmor, the intensity of how he studied Keira and her reactions, the embers growing in them.
“Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh, Divines, please help me!” The thief begged to the sky, breaking the brief silence.
“Look at him! General Tullius the Military Governor, and it looks like the Thalmor are with him! Damn elves, I bet they had something to do with this!” The blonde piped up, the hatred burning in his once peaceful eyes before cooling back down as he looked around them. “This is Helgen. I used to be sweet on a girl from here. Wonder if Vilod is still making mead with juniper berries mixed in. Funny… when I was a boy, Imperial towers used to make me feel so safe.” The blue-clad man reminisced, a soft chuckle ending his reverie as the cart soon came to a corner to stop.
“Why are we stopping?” The thief asked as he fidgeted with his rags for clothes, already knowing as it was obvious to everyone else; maybe he was expecting a different answer.
“Why do you think? End of the line.” The blonde replied with that earlier peacefulness, finality doused his words. The cart came to a stop in front of a tower and the chopping block. “Let’s go, shouldn't keep the Gods waiting for us.”
“No wait! We’re not rebels!” The thief screeched, clearly not wishing to meet his makers so soon as everyone in the cart stood to hop off.
“Face your death with some courage thief.” The soldier had replied gruffly, a roll to his eyes in slight annoyance.
“You've got to tell them, we weren’t with you! This is a mistake!”
Keira couldn’t help but let out a soft sigh at the man, as she had silently agreed in her mind with the soldier that stood behind her, as they dismounted the cart. At least if this was how her fate ends, at least she will be in the Hunting Grounds with her family and pack, rather than Sovngarde. So she would face her death with a gleaming and bright smile, rather than cower away like the man standing affront her.
“Step toward the block when we call your name, one at a time.” A female soldier had ordered, standing tall in front of the group with a male next to her, book in tow.
“Empire loves their damn lists…” The blonde soldier, who now stood next to her, groaned out as he jumped out of the cart.
“Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm.” The male with the book called out, scribbling as he did so. Keira watched the gagged man step toward the chopping block, dignity rolling on waves off the older man. She couldn’t help but smile at the thought as she then turned to the man next to her with a frown.
“It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric.” The soldier uttered solemnly, watching his leader walk onwards to his death.
“Ralof of Riverwood.” The book-keeping soldier stated, a small grimace to his expression appeared just as quick as it then disappeared, as the same blonde soldier who had been by Keira’s side stepped up next to Ulfric. At least she knew who he was now.
“Lokir of Rorikstead.” The male had called out next, expression neutral as ever.
“No! I’m not a rebel! You can’t do this!” The man named Lokir exclaimed, making a run for it.
“Halt!” The female captain called, turning to watch him run for the gates.
“You’re not gonna kill me!” Lokir cried, nearing the gates of freedom. Sadly, he wouldn’t make it.
“Archers!” The captain cried, as a well-placed arrow pierced through Lokir, cutting his dream to shreds, “Anyone else feel like running?” she dared them.
“Wait, you there. Step forward.” The male next to her said to Keira, ushering her forward. “Who… are you?”
“I am Keira.” She replied quietly, yet fluently, trying to keep her answers simple but truthful in the event they realize their mistake.
“Keira, where are you from?” The male questioned, not harshly, but lacked a little patience.
“Originally born in Skyrim, I hail from Morrowind as of now.” Keira replied tersely, not giving room for further questions. Less who know of her real reason to come back to Skyrim, the better. She noticed from the corner of her eyes Ulfric peering at her from the corner of his eyes, and Keira could have sworn it held a prideful gleam to them. Dismissing the notion, she turned to face the soldier in front.
“Captain, what should we do? She’s not on the list.” He asked of his superior, a bit of concern etched his face briefly.
“Forget the list, she goes to the block.” The captain sneered, a gleam of satisfaction in her eyes as she looked upon Keira. At that moment, Keira knew hatred as she looked upon the woman, oh how much she could rip her asunder with her claws but knew she could not.
“By your orders, Captain.” He replied to her, before looking over at Keira, “I’m sorry, at least you’ll die here in your homeland. Follow the captain, prisoner.” Keira tried to hold back a hiss at the notion. Skyrim could never be her homeland, but even if she did somehow get out of this, would it ever? As she walked to her spot in line, she turned to see Tullius confront Ulfric.
“Some here in Helgen call you a hero, but a hero doesn't use the power of the Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne!” Tullius barked, hands on his hips in depredation. Ulfric could only grunt behind his gag, unable to say a word to defend himself.
‘Wow, Empire sure loves their trials.’ Keira thought bitterly to herself as she watched the two impassively.
“You started this war, plunged Skyrim into chaos, but the Empire is gonna put you down and restore the peace!” Tullius growled, but his growl held no candle to the roar in the distance that everyone could hear plain as day.
“What was that?” The soldier who took names asked aloud, standing opposite the chopping block itself, the ‘book-keeping soldier’ Keira had nicknamed.
“Nothing, carry on.” Tullius ordered, standing aside as the female Captain stepped forward.
“Yes, General Tullius! Give them their last rites.” The woman captain exclaimed, turning to face a Priestess.
“As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the eight Divines upon you-“
“Oh for the love of Talos, shut up and let’s get this over with!” A soldier in blue armor growled, stepping forward, head-on to his death.
“As you wish.” The Priestess huffed, walking away as the Captain used her leg to push the soldier to his knees.
“My ancestors are smiling at me Imperials, can you say the same?” The red-head huffed as his neck fit the block. The headsman stepped up, raising his might axe above his head. With a silent swoop, he chopped the man’s head clean off. Blood spilled from the block onto the ground beneath it and his head.
“You Imperial bastards!” A blue-wearing soldier cried.
“Justice!” A villager cried in retort.
“Death to the Stormcloaks!” Another villager agreed with the previous.
“As fearless in death, as he was in life.” Ralof lamented, a sigh escaping him.
“Next, the Nord in the rags!” The Captain rallied, calling Keira up to the block. The roar from earlier emerged, louder this time, as if it was approaching.
“There it is again, did you hear that?” The male Imperial from earlier questioned.
“I said, next prisoner.” The Captain growled, as she waited for Keira to approach.
“To the block prisoner, nice and easy.” The male Imperial cautioned to her.
Keira didn't understand why the Captain loved to see her die, maybe she knew who she was? Distilling the idea from her head, she stepped forward gracefully, ready for death. Keira stood in place as the Captain pushed her down, her neck in place on the block as she looked up at the man who would bring her home. As the headsman lifted his weapon, the roar appeared, louder and stronger. It was here.
“What in Oblivion is that?!” Tullius cried, looking at something he could not see as of yet.
“Sentries, what do you see?” The Captain ordered, following Tullius’s line of sight.
“It’s in the clouds!” An Imperial soldier replied far off from Keira, as all she could see was the axe about to make its descent.
“Dragon!” A woman screamed, and after so the mighty beast itself landed on the tower overhead Keira and the headsman.
     The black myth glared its angry, ruby eyes into Keira before Shouting at the people around her and at the village itself. It was true, dragons had returned, the end of times were upon them. As the beast roared, it shook the headsman away from Keira, thus saving her life from the axe he was about to bring down upon her neck. As the dragon continued to roar and set aflame anything it desired, Keira was shaken internally at the events before her.
“Hey kinsman, get up! The Gods won’t give us another chance!” Ralof roared to Keira over the commotion around them.
     At hearing him usher her to safety, she quickly followed the soldier into a tower. She couldn’t be of much use given her hands were bound prior, but she could still run. She could only hope it would require that much of her as she had yet to retrieve her gear from the keep they stowed it in before the group’s arrival. As the duo entered, the door was closed and Keira spotted a Medic tending to Stormcloaks that were injured.
“Jarl Ulfric, what is that thing? Could the legends and children’s stories be true?” Ralof asked of his leader who somehow managed to escape his bounds and gag.
“Legends don’t burn down villages. We need to move now!” Ulfric stated, his stare looking to Keira, a look she was not used to. His voice, now being able to hear it clearly, was a gruffness to match his appearance, but it held a soft undertone somewhere, like his eyes. Breaking from that train of thought, she had heard Ralof suggest going upstairs, and once she had reached the top Keira noticed the rest of the way was blocked off by debris.
“Just need to move this rock here…” A Stormcloak soldier mumbled as he was trying to clear the path.
Unfortunately he could not succeed as that big black dragon broke through the wall adjacent him and set him on fire. Ducking back from it, Keira barely escaped the onslaught. Ralof joined her when it was clear to proceed upward toward the dragon-made opening.
“See that inn on the other side? Jump through and run to the other side, we’ll follow when we can!” Ralof suggested, almost ushering Keira on.
“…” Silence greeted the man as Keira did as she was told.
     She wasn’t going to object to an idea that may save her life. Once she made it through she found an elderly man crouched behind a destroyed home and the Imperial soldier from before ushering a little boy to come to him. Keira noticed that the boy’s father had been served up hot by the dragon, and the soldier was trying to save the boy.
‘At least one Imperial has a heart.’ Keira thought gruffly as she watched the boy approach the older gentleman. The soldier then looked upon her, clearly panicking but trying to save face.
“Gunnar, take care of the boy, I have to join General Tullius in the defense!”
“Gods guide you Hadvar.” The man named Gunnar replied with an appreciative smile as he took the boy in his arms.
“Still alive prisoner? Stick close if you want to stay that way!” Hadvar exclaimed, running through a makeshift path.
Keira followed, having no other option before her. At least she can stop calling him ‘the book-keeping Imperial’ in her head. As they came upon a stone wall to their left, Hadvar ducked down.
“Keep close to the wall!” He barked, and as Keira ducked down the dragon landed on that very wall, breathing fire ahead of them.
Once it ascended into the air, they began to run through broken homes and through soldiers trying to take the beast down. When Hadvar and Keira stopped in a clearing, Ralof was spotted ahead of them.
“Ralof, you damned traitor! Out of my way!” Hadvar growled with a seething anger present on his face.
“We’re escaping Hadvar, you’re not stopping us this time.” Ralof returned calmly, a stark contrast to Hadvar’s person.
“Fine, I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde!” Hadvar roared, running to the right of the keep. “Follow me prisoner!”
“This way kinsman!” Ralof exclaimed, running to the left of the keep.
     The choice was rather easy for Keira, as she had a strong hate for Imperials, despite Hadvar’s show of kindness earlier. Following Ralof inside, they took a moment to catch their breaths. Keira couldn’t even process the events happening around her this quickly, but she knew she had to get out of Helgen. Easier said than done, however, as she didn’t exactly have a map to go by as of yet. Spotting a chest on the far wall, she could only assume it was her gear chest, and unfortunately she could not open it with her bounds.
“We made it. That thing was a dragon, the Harbingers of the end times.” Ralof lamented, shaking his head of the depressing idea, “Come here, and let me get those bindings off!” he added as he withdrew an iron dagger. Stepping close to the man, her nose picked up his musky scent as he cut through the rope.
“There ya go. I suppose your gear is over there?” Ralof asked, eyeing the chest curiously.
“Yes, they took it from me after they knocked me out. I hope they didn’t keep any trophies, the bastards.” Keira replied, digging through the chest to collect her few possessions. Inside the chest was; her heavy wolf armor, dual dragonbone daggers (of which her mother had made herself by buying the bones from a Khajiit caravan to make her weapons), dragonbone bow and arrows, her family ring of which looked identical to the mythological Hircine’s ring, and her locket that contained the pictures of her family and pack.
     Not caring that Ralof was present, she stripped off the tattered robes and footwraps given to her by the Imperials, throwing them aside as she began to dress herself in her armor. Ralof turned to give her privacy, but curiosity slid into him as he turned to see the buxom beauty before him. Keira was definitely gifted well by Dibella, the Goddess of women and beauty; her chest was robust but not to the extreme, her hips wide to compliment said chest in a sculpted hourglass shape, and muscles and scars to adorn and shape her sun-kissed and sweat-sheened skin. He only had a side view, and her long ebony hair only did half of the covering as it curved with her, stopping above her lower back as a dainty hand came to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Keira wasn't aware of Ralof’s staring, but he caught himself and turned back around as he tried to cool his face (and other features) down from the heat that gathered. After putting on her armor, fixing her hair back, and placing her weapons in the appropriate places she lastly put on her locket with a small, remorseful smile on her face once it was tucked underneath the armor.
“That’s the first I heard you speak to me since we came here.” Ralof commented, watching her with a sheepish grin,trying to push back the sights he had seen of her far into his brain with difficulty.
“That was because I wasn't exactly prepared to speak.” Keira retorted with a shrug. Despite having her weapons, she always preferred her fists, so her daggers remained sheathed as well as her bow. Those weapons were just back-ups if her fists couldn’t do the job.
“Oh, sorry…I believe your name was Keira, right?” Ralof asked, trying to make small talk to appease the awkward tension.
“Yes, and you’re Ralof?”
“Yeah, and you’re from Morrowind?”
“Yes.” Keira was growing impatient, as she didn't like to be interrogated in the middle of this disaster.
“Oh, well sorry for being intrusive; I’m just curious as to how you got in this mess.” Ralof offered as a way of explanation, noting the lace of irritation in her voice.
“It is fine, but I rather not speak of it, especially given the circumstances.” Keira replied, offering him a smile to show he was ok in her book.
“Yeah, that is true… Wait, do you hear that?” Ralof asked, concern replacing the friendly look in his features.
“Shh, Imperials!” Keira whispered, ducking next to a gate.
     Ralof followed suit, both prepare to jump on first sight. Keira heard the Captain order a soldier to open the gate, and she couldn’t help but grin at the irony this brought upon her. That same Captain that wanted her dead will die by her own hands. Once the gate lowered, Ralof and Keira swooped in on the two Imperials, Keira effectively snapping the Captain’s neck. Once that was finished and Ralof finished off his Imperial, they looted the bodies – with Keira’s having a key.
“Hey, reckon it will open that gate over there?” Ralof asked, pointing to a gate across from them.
     With a shrug, Keira went over and sure enough it opened the way for their escape. Proceeding down the steps further into the Keep, they ran into more Imperials of which were killed quickly and harshly. It seemed the Keep delved into an underground cavern as they trekked onward. Meeting Imperials and Stormcloaks alike, it seemed that it would be forever before they saw sunlight once more as they pushed deeper into the caverns. As luck, or maybe Divine intervention would have it, as soon as the duo passed by a sleeping bear they found their exit to freedom – to the outside world and outside of Helgen.
== Chapter II: Before the Storm ==
     It seemed like ages inside the cave, but once they felt the sun prick their skin, Ralof and Keira both let out a breath they had apparently been holding. Having only stepped a few feet beyond the mouth of the cave, they both had to duck down as the dragon finally had its fill of Helgen as it ascended into the skies, leaving them behind.
“I’m glad we made it out of there. You know, you should join the fight to free Skyrim, you've seen the true face of the Empire here today. If anyone knows what the coming of the dragons mean, it’s Ulfric.” Ralof stated as they walked down the path, Ralof leading as he knew where they were.
“You think Ulfric knows something we don’t?”
“I’m not sure, but it doesn't hurt to ask, does it?”
“True, where is he anyways? I’d sure love to kill some Imperials.”
“Windhelm, northeast of here, buried in snow so you can’t miss it; I’m glad you decided to stick with us. I ah… hope this means that I-we learn about you in the coming days, Keira.” Ralof stuttered a bit, a pink tint to his cheeks as his gaze was nowhere on Keira.
“Maybe, sometimes it’s best to leave things a mystery.” Keira chuckled as they had trodden down the hill toward three statues of sorts in a circle.
“These are the Guardian Stones, they have the ability to grant power in different areas. Some are born under one. These are Warrior, Mage, and Thief. Go ahead and pick one.”
“I was born under Lover, so no need for me to pick one.” Keira rejected, turning away to follow the path to the left.
“So you learn in all areas quicker than others?” Ralof asked, following alongside her.
“Yeah. Where are we going?” Keira returned his question with her own, trying to deflect from herself.
“Riverwood, my sister runs a mill there. We need to know if they heard about our capture and the dragon.”
“Good point. Lead on.” Keira agreed.
Ralof took the lead as they picked up where they left off on the path to Riverwood. Along the way they encountered wolves, and Keira couldn’t help but chuckle at Ralof as he drew his war axe to attack. Ralof could only look befuddled at Keira as she knelt down to pet the wolves like pets.
“What are you doing?” Ralof asked after a moment of getting his voice back.
“I could ask you the same thing.” Keira retorted with a grin, standing to her full height as she approached Ralof, waving a hand to dismiss the wolves to their territory.
“How did you-?”
“Best you not know that yet…” Keira replied silencing the conversation as she then took lead to the village beyond them. As they reached the gate entrance, Ralof stepped forward.
“Let me handle the talking, if any Imperials happen to cross here. Riverwood is under Whiterun’s control, and it’s… neutral.” Ralof explained as he led them through the gate and to an offshoot bridge path toward the mill. As they circled around the giant wheel and logs, Keira spotted a blonde woman in a green tunic smiling as they approached.
“Gerdur!” Ralof called out in joy, a chuckle adding to his call as he stopped to watch his sister.
“Brother! Mara’s mercy it’s good to see you! Is it safe for you to be here though, we heard Ulfric had been captured…”
“Gerdur, I’m fine. At least now I am.” Ralof replied with a reluctant, but relieved sigh.
“Are you hurt? What’s happened? And who is this, one of your comrades?” Gerdur questioned, the wrinkles continuing to furrow as she then looked upon Keira with slight curiosity emerging from her blonde brows.
“Not a comrade, yet, but a friend. I owe her my life in fact.” Ralof replied as he too turned to Keira, then back to Gerdur. “Is there somewhere we can talk? There’s no telling when the news from Helgen will reach the Imperials…” Ralof asked, his arms rose to usher her to quieten down, as she was excited at seeing her brother alive and well.
“Helgen? Has something happened...?" Gerdur queried, her voice reflecting the curious nature the woman held. “You’re right, follow me.” Gerdur advised, understanding the situation was rocky. Leading past the mill, Gerdur looked up to spot her husband near the logs. “Hod, come here a moment, I need your help with something.”
“Gerdur, what – Ralof? Hey how are you?” The man named Hod greeted.
“Hod just come here.” Gerdur ushered strongly as she continued to lead Ralof and Keira toward a secluded area.
“R-Right, on my way!” Hod exclaimed, making his way down to join them outside of the mill.
     Riverwood was a nice village from the looks of it, small and modest. Keira had to hold down a sigh as the village reminded her of her former home in a sense. It too was tiny and humble, depending on one another to survive. As Keira lightly shook her head of the memories, she and Ralof came upon a stump to sit upon as Gerdur stood before them, all waiting for Hod to join them to continue their discussion as to why Keira and Ralof appeared out of nowhere. Apparently Ralof’s nephew wanted in on the scene, but was dismissed by Gerdur to ‘watch the south road’. Once Hod came upon them, Gerdur’s expression changed from relieved to concern. The wrinkles in her face tensed and her brows sunk upon her eyes as she looked upon Ralof, her brother.
“Now, Ralof, what's going on? You two look pretty well done in.” Hod inquired as he approached the trio.
“I can't remember when I last slept... Where to start? Well, the news you heard about Ulfric was true. The Imperials ambushed us outside Darkwater Crossing. Like they knew exactly where we'd be...that was two days ago, now. We stopped in Helgen this morning, and I thought it was all over. Had us lined up to the headsman's block and ready to start chopping.”
“The cowards!” Gerdur cut in with a snide tone.
“They wouldn't dare give Ulfric a fair trial. Treason, for fighting for your own people! All of Skyrim would've seen the truth then. But then, out of nowhere...a dragon attacked!"
“You don't mean a real, live...”
“I can hardly believe it myself, and I was there. As strange as it sounds, we'd be dead if not for that dragon. In the confusion, we managed to slip away. Are we really the first to make it to Riverwood?”
“Nobody else has come up the south road today, as far as I know.”
“Good. Maybe we can lay up for a while. I hate to put your family in danger, Gerdur, but...”
“Nonsense. You and your friend are welcome to stay here as long as you need to. Let me worry about the Imperials. Any friend of Ralof's is a friend of mine. Here's a key to the house. Stay as long as you like. If there's anything else you need, just let me know.” Gerdur turned to Keira as she offered the key. “There's something you can do for me, for all of us here. The Jarl needs to know if there's a dragon on the loose. Riverwood is defenseless...We need to get word to Jarl Balgruuf in Whiterun to send whatever soldiers he can. If you'll do that for me, I'll be in your debt.”
“Thanks, sister. I knew I could count on you.” Ralof piped up, nodding to Gerdur before standing from the stump.
“I ought to get back to work before I'm missed, but...did anyone else escape? Did Ulfric...”
“Don't worry, I'm sure he made it out. It would take more than a dragon to stop Ulfric Stormcloak.” Ralof had then turned to Keira, a grateful smile on his face. “Good luck, hope to see you in Windhelm. I’m gonna lay low here before heading that way.”
“Thanks, you too! I’ll head to Whiterun to deliver Gerdur’s message!” Keira replied with a nod as she set upon the road north of Riverwood.
     Keira walked along the cobble-stone path, few wolves docile at her presence as she trekked along. One or two even walked with her to provide support and comradery as she saw the city in the distance, massive walls enclosed it from prying eyes as she ventured down the hill. As she was nearing a horse stable, she noticed a farm was under siege from a giant and it was fighting a group of warriors. Keira ran over, ushering her furry companions to stay back, her fists more than capable as she aided the fighters in taking down the beast. As the battle was over, the red-headed woman of the group approached Keira.
“You handle yourself well, Shield-sister.”
“I still have much to learn, despite the victory.”
“Ah, you may make for a decent Companion then.”
“Companion?”
“You’re not from here are you? We’re a group of warriors, we take care of any situation if the coin is good.”
“So you’re like mercenaries?”
“We have honor, they do not.”
“Oh, well I may consider joining then.”
“Come to Jorrvaskr, Kodlak has a sense for people. He’ll see if you’re worth it.”
As the conversation ended, Keira went back on her trek toward the city, to only be stopped by a guard.
“Halt! City’s closed with the dragons about. Official business only.”
“Riverwood calls for the Jarl’s aid!”
“Riverwood’s in danger too? You better go on in. You’ll find the Jarl on top of the hill in Dragonsreach.” The guard advised, opening the gate to allow Keira access.
     Once Keira entered, she already felt congested as she passed through the crowds of people, passing shops and taverns. Keira hated feeling clustered as she did, in this humid weather. Making a mental note to head to Windhelm after this, she climbed the stairs to the castle of Dragonsreach. Upon entering the warm, home-like atmosphere, Keira stepped up the stairs, hearing the Jarl speak to his steward about a matter until she was spotted by the two, thus attracting the attention by the Housecarl - a Dark Elf woman in leather armor.
“What’s the meaning of this interruption? Jarl Balgruuf is not receiving visitors.”
“Gerdur sent me. Riverwood is in danger.”
“As Housecarl, my job is to deal with all dangers the Jarl or his people are dealt with. So you have my attention. Explain yourself.”
“A dragon has destroyed Helgen.”
“You know about Helgen? The Jarl will want to speak to you personally. Approach.” With that, Keira did as she was told, approaching the throne slowly as the fire pit behind her lit brightly behind her, casting a shadow around her frame. The Jarl looked down upon her, a neutral but friendly demeanor was felt amongst those near him. The man was about thirty or so, blonde hair and beard, decent frame for a Nord, but slightly pale.
“So you were at Helgen? You saw this dragon with your own eyes? And you’re sure this isn’t a trick of the eye by Stormcloaks?” The Jarl questioned, clearly not ready to believe such lunacy.
“The dragon destroyed Helgen, and last I saw it was coming in this general direction.”
“By Ysmir, Irileth was right! What do you say now, Proventus?” The Jarl had turned to his steward, “Shall we continue to trust in the strength of our walls, against a dragon?”
“My lord,” Irileth piped up, “we should send troops to Riverwood at once, and it’s in the most immediate danger. If that dragon is lurking in the mountains-“
“The Jarl of Falkreath will view that as a provocation!” Proventus argued, “He’ll assume we’re preparing to join Ulfric’s side and attack him! We should not-“
“Enough!” The Jarl roared, clearly annoyed at the two’s fighting. Keira contained a chuckle at how the Jarl had to parent their behavior. “I’ll not sit idly by while a dragon burns my hold and slaughters my people! Irileth, send a detachment to Riverwood at once.”
“Yes my Jarl.” Irileth agreed, leaving at once toward the outside. Proventus made a remorseful comment about him returning to his work, but was ignored by Keira as she had turned to make her exit. Unfortunately, luck never seemed to favor her this day as Balgruuf called her over.
“Well done. You sought me out on your own initiative. You’ve done Whiterun a service, and I won’t forget it. Here, take this as a small token of my esteem.” He congratulated, handing her a set of armor that looked not only hideous but wouldn’t do Keira any good in terms of protection; Keira only grinned sheepishly as she accepted it, making another note to dump it somewhere.
“There is another thing you can do for me; suitable for someone of your particular talents, perhaps. Come let’s go find Farengar, my court wizard. He’s been looking into dragons and attempting to find a way to defeat them.”
     Keira only nodded, not even really listening to the man as she awaiting him to lead her, making her third mental note– leave before they start handing out jobs. It seemed like she would never get to Windhelm at this rate if they kept handing Keira jobs to do without so much as asking whether she wanted to accept it or not. Keira could only pray to Hircine this was the last thing she had to do for them; as soon as she did whatever she needed to do, she would head over to Windhelm before making it back to Whiterun. She wanted to enlist for the Stormcloaks, the sooner the better. A familiar face popped into her mind at the thought of Stormcloaks, Ulfric. Keira could only push the man’s image from her mind only slightly, as she admitted he was rather attractive and only such. Keira left her mental reprieve when she noted a familiar purple cloak.
“Uncle Farengar?!” Keira exclaimed out of joy, running to hug the man.
“Keira?! So good to see you! Wow, you’ve grown so much since I visited you and your family two years ago!” The meek wizard replied just as happily. The man was skinny for a Nord, paler than most. One couldn’t tell his hair due to the cloak’s hood, but many guessed.
“You two know each other?” Balgruuf questioned, confusion apparent in his expression.
“Ah yes my Jarl. I’m a friend of the family, a considered uncle.” Farengar explained to him before turning back to Keira. “Speaking of, how are they?"
“…They’re…” Keira paused, as she tried not to cry, “Dead. All of them.”
“What?! How!?” Farengar gasped, dark brows creasing in both shock and confusion. The Jarl could only frown.
“Thalmor. They ambushed and slaughtered them. I barely made it out of Morrowind…”
“Oh Keira… I’m so sorry. How did you get to Skyrim?”
“I made it on foot, but damn Imperials ambushed me, claiming I was a rebel. If I see another Imperial, I’ll rip them asunder.”
“Keira, calm down. It won’t do any good. For now… focus on surviving. We can discuss more about it later.” Farengar felt an uneasy stare from the Jarl. He knew what Keira was, as well as the ‘family’ itself. He wasn’t about to divulge unless forced to by the Jarl, hence why he let it drop for now. “For now, I’m assuming the Jarl brought you here to help with my Dragon Project?”
“Yeah, can you fill in the blanks?”
“Well, in the ruins of Bleak Falls Barrow, near Riverwood, there is a tablet that may or may not be there that’s a map of ancient burial sites.”
“Ah I see, well I’m gonna need some information on dragons in general, as Morrowind had no information on them, like the Dragon War I heard spoken about once before.”
“The Dragon War was a real event, although only the barest glimmer of the actual events has come down to us. Far back in the Mythic Era, the dragons were worshipped as gods in Skyrim. Many of the monumental ruins that still dot the landscape were, in fact, built as temples to the dragons. The details are lost, but at some point the Nords rebelled. After a long and terrible war, the Nords overthrew their dragon overlords.”
“So the dragons all fell?”
“No, as this very palace was built to house a dragon.”
“I see, so have you encountered any?”
“Sadly no, work here keeps me from such opportunities. If you do, care to tell me?”
“Of course! I’ll head on out then, expect me back in say… three weeks?”
“Alright, but why so long?”
“I got other priorities to check off, need time once I get the stone to do so.”
“Be safe Keira, you’re the last one you know…” Both didn't realize the Jarl was listening in behind the wall, having pretended to have left.
‘Last one? Of what?’ Balgruuf thought as he listened.
“I know Uncle, I know. I wouldn’t have been here had it not been for that black dragon.”
“You mean the dragon from Helgen?!”
“Yeah, it saved me from the damn Imperial’s chopping block.”
“Why were you at the chopping block?”
“Stupid assholes thought I was a rebel, remember?”
“Of course… I’m guessing you’re going to be a Stormcloak then?”
“Maybe, albeit they sound better than Imperials, but I’m not going in blind either.”
“That’s my girl. I’m here for you, ya know. Keep me posted on your adventures and whether you remake the pack?”
“Of course! You’ll be the first to know, promise!”
With her goodbyes made to Farengar, Keira left for the Barrow quickly, ignorant of the Jarl’s spying. Once she was gone, the Jarl approached the wizard.
“I believe you need to explain to me that conversation.” Balgruuf demanded, not harshly, but authoritative.
“My Jarl, it’s a story that will require seats and mead.” Farengar sighed, placing his quill to the side as he took a seat, as did the Jarl.
“Well?”
“She’s a lycaea, the last given the recent news.”
“What’s a lycaea?”
“A child of werewolves, a child of Hircine. It’s a very rare occurrence, as those who are infected with Lycanthropy cannot bear children. Keira’s a special case, as her parents of course are werewolves.”
“By the Gods…”
“It’s not as bad as it sounds! They’re good people, despite the blood that runs in their veins! I was even named an uncle, and I’m a pure Nord!”
“Very well, continue.”
“Their pack, the Bloodmoon, they were a friendly group of werewolves in Morrowind. They hunted out of necessity, and controlled their transformations very well. I encountered Keira’s mother when she went on a hunt and ended up the hunted. I found her in her human form severely injured. I aided her best I could, and since then I’ve been an honorary member of the pack. I was then named Uncle to Keira when she was born.”
“I see, so she is special because of how she was born?”
“Well, yes, but now there are more circumstances…”
“Such as the Thalmor…”
“Yes, you and I are both aware of their campaign. They must have found their grotto, Gods the massacre…”
“I heard that she was the only one to survive? How many was in the pack?”
“At least two hundred were in the pack, excluding allies…”
“And the Thalmor wiped them out?!”
“Except for Keira, yes they were. I can understand why the Imperials thought her a rebel – Nord woman crossing a border in unique armor.”
“Yes, that certainly adds salt to the wound.”
“Indeed.”
“So, what is she to do now?”
“Rebuild her pack, of course not by force, my Jarl. They never operated that way.”
“Then how?”
“Consent, my lord. If she encounters people she trusts to aide her, and if they give permission, she can infect them.”
“I never heard of a werewolf asking permission to infect others…”
“Hence why the Bloodmoon Pack is, or was, special; why she is special, my Jarl.”
“That she is…I think she will do more than simply rebuild…”
“Perhaps, time can only answer that.”
“Yes, only time…”
     Keira had only just made it to the entrance when the sun had set. Trudging through snow and taking out a few bandits bit off the cold in the mountain as she approached the giant black door. Feeling a sense of dread upon this place, Keira thought it safe to let the moon fall upon her as she transformed into her wolfish side - ebony fur covering head to toe, emerald orbs for eyes and razor sharp claws took the place of the female form.
==Chapter III: The Man Behind the Hazel Eyes ==
“Has she received the invitation?” Jarl Ulfric asked of his right-hand man, Galmar Stone-Fist. 
“The courier has not yet returned, Ulfric, he has to find her first. Why are you so high-strung about some girl anyways? Isn’t she a young one for you?” 
“She’s not just some girl, however young she may be. She’s different. I can’t explain it, but I feel as though she can determine what tides go in what favor.” 
“How can you be so sure? You had, what, two looks at her?” 
“They were enough.” 
“Then what makes her different?” 
“I am… unsure.” 
“Then I suppose we’ll find out then when she arrives?” 
“Yes, in due time Galmar. Until then, we have a war to plan.” 
            Keira had entered the barrow, as quiet as her large furry feet could make it as she spotted a pair of bandits nearby. Pausing, she overheard their conversation of a third bandit further inside with a key to a door. Noting this, she roared at the bandits – waves of fear rippling over the duo as she charged at them. Going for the archer, Keira made quick progress with eating her heart as the second bandit slashed at her arm with his iron dagger. Growling in trepidation, she lunged at him and ripped his heart out too to feast upon. She normally hated doing so, but in order to remain in her wolfish form, she had to consume the fallen’s hearts. Once she was finished, she checked her wound and noted it was only a small flesh wound that would heal over time. Proceeding deeper inside, she could hear the last of the trio of bandits crying for them to help him. Unfortunately for him, they won’t be coming, as she entered a large room and spotting the Dark Elf in a thicket of webs. Just before Keira could slice him free, a giant spider fell in front of her, cutting off access to the scruffy man. The spider quickly spat frostbite venom on Keira, slowing her down temporarily, but the female wolf retaliated with a series of quick claw slashes. Once the venom wore off, she then lunged and hacked at it once more, killing the creature. The heart was not needed, as the bandit in webbing would suffice for her as she slashed him free. Before he could run, however, she quickly bit his arm and proceeded with a quick gash up the middle. Killing the Dark Elf effectively, she made quick work of the heart before noticing a golden ornament in the shape of a dragon claw. Keira growled in frustration as she couldn’t operate the claw in her current form, and because of this she had to wait out her transformation, wasting more time. 
The Gods apparently favored her this day, as her transformation didn’t take an hour to wither as she returned to her humanesque bodice within a couple of minutes. Checking to make sure her armor and the rest of her gear were securely on her person, she picked up the golden key and crouched to sneak through the rest of the tomb as she didn’t seek to wake the dead and have more to tangle with. Reaching a puzzle door, Keira frowned as she fiddled with the different rings but finding no luck. 
“Wait, the claw is some kind of key, maybe it has the answer?” 
            Sure enough, the claw held the ring answers on the palm of it and with that Keira opened the Nordic door into the Sanctum. Upon the door falling into the floor, Keira entered into an underground burial ground with a strange wall just beyond it – calling out to her in a language she did and did not understand. Cautiously approaching the Wall first, it read: 
HET NOK FaaL VahLOK
DeiNMaaR DO DOVahGOLZ
ahRK aaN FUS DO UNSLaaD
RahGOL ahRK VULOM
“Why are you calling me?” She asked the Wall, pressing a hand on the smooth surface. As she touched the ancient tome, she felt a coursing power flow into her and igniting her blood as FUS called out in her mind. Once the surge subsided, she could translate the wall clearly: 
Here lies the guardian
Keeper of dragonstone
And a force of unending
Rage and darkness
“What is this?” She pondered, but was cut short as the singular crypt burst open, revealing a draugr. Raising her fists, she slowly approached it to see what it would do; raising an ebony battle-axe, the undead keeper brandished his weapon at Keira. Barely ducking past it, Keira went for an uppercut to disorient the walking dead before giving a fury of jabs. She got in a few hits before the draugr Shouted at her, using Fus. Unfortunately, despite having heard the Word, she couldn’t return it – instead standing back up and going low to hit her punches. It wouldn’t give in, however, as it swung its axe down and managed to hit her in her abdomen with the blunt side. Keira had just about enough of the thing, and went for another fury, mixing in some kicks before it finally went back to being dead. Panting for breath, Keira sat down upon the smooth concrete floor, wiping some ebony locks from her sweaty forehead. 
“Damn, if most of these Nordic tombs have you in them, then I’m in for a job…” 
Of course, she hoped she would never have to come back into these crypts. Gingerly standing, she went over to the resurrected tomb to find her prize – the Dragonstone. Tucking it under her arm, she found a set of stairs to her right and made her departure into the outside. 
“Holy hells, fresh air!” She exclaimed happily, sliding down the small hill as she took in gulps of outside air into her lungs. Before she could enjoy it, however, a Breton male ran up to her from what seemed like out of nowhere. 
“I’ve been looking for you! Got something I’m supposed to deliver, your hands only.” 
“Something for me? Sorry to put you through so much trouble, what is it?” 
“An invitation to the Palace of the Kings in Windhelm, Jarl Ulfric personally sent this for you.” The nimble man gave Keira a folded piece of parchment, the courier waiting as he needed her response. 
“I, Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak, personally request your attendance at the Palace of the Kings in Windhelm on 17th of Evening Star. I wish to speak to you personally.
Go With the Gods,
Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak”
“Oh… What day is it? I’ve lost track of time I’m afraid.” 
“It is the 3rd of Evening Star, ma’am.” 
“Very well, I suppose you are here to have my reply?” 
“Yes ma’am.” 
“Well, you may tell him I shall head there immediately. If you get there before I, tell him that I’m coming from Whiterun and I may need extra time should I not arrive at the precise day.” 
“Yes ma’am, I shall go at once.” He nodded before turning to run off toward Windhelm. 
“Geez… I’m gonna need directions. I would rather not tail a courier… would be kinda weird.” 
       Keira checked to make sure the stone was not damaged on her way out, and seeing as it was in good condition decided to go drop it off at her uncle’s before departing for Windhelm. Looking at the hazy sky, it was late afternoon and Riverwood was luckily an hour away. Grimacing as black and blue side decided now was a good time to be in pain, Keira kept careful of where she ventured along the way to Riverwood. She needed to return the claw, as when she overheard the bandits she noted they had stolen it in order to open the door. As night fell, Keira found a convenience store and entered, finding a man and woman arguing over thieves and going after said thieves. Not wishing to become a referee, Keira nearly slammed the claw onto the table to get their attention. 
“Th-The claw! It’s back! Oh thank you so much, now the Riverwood Trader is back in business. I know it’s not much, but please take this.” The man behind the counter greeted, giving Keira a thousand gold septims.
    Nodding her head in response, Keira turned and began her overnight trip to Whiterun. She didn’t much care for staying in Riverwood when Whiterun wasn’t too far off, not to mention she wanted to head to Windhelm as soon as she was able. After about two in the morning, Keira entered Dragonsreach and made a one-way path toward her uncle’s study, feeling exhausted and crabby.
“Uncle? Are you here?” 
“Erm… Keira? Are you alright?” The purple wizard asked groggily, slowly entering the study from his small bedroom. 
“I have the stone.” 
“Really? That’s great! Wait, Keira what happened to your side!?” 
“Draugr. I’m ok, really, just a bruise.” 
“Come here, I have a healing spell.” The hooded man raised his hand, and a gold light encased Keira, filling her with warmth as the bruise slowly disappeared. 
“Thanks, but you didn’t have to.” 
“What kind of uncle would I be if I didn’t take care of ya?” 
“Sorry to break the reunion, but the stone?” A gruff female voice interrupted, emerging from the shadows. 
“Ah, yes. Sorry Keira, the stone was for my associate here.” He then turned to the mysterious female, “She got it for us.” 
“You went in there yourself and retrieved it? Nice work.” Keira didn’t bother to reply, turning to her uncle as she gave him the invitation. As the woman took the stone, she quickly left just as she appeared. 
“He wants you personally? Wonder why…?” 
“He was there with me at Helgen. I felt something… weird about him.” 
“Weird?” 
“Well, I’m not sure how to describe it. It wasn’t bad, but… I’m not sure what to call it.” 
“Are you going to go?” 
“Yeah, otherwise I won’t know why he wanted me.” 
“Well, you need rest, so get some.” 
“Uncle, I need to leave-“ 
“Rest. You can go tomorrow.” 
“It technically is tomorrow.” 
“You know what I mean, don’t give me sass. Go to sleep in my room.” 
“Where will you go?” 
“I have a spare upstairs.” 
“Alright, goodnight Uncle.” 
“Goodnight Keira.”
     Keira twisted and turned in the small green sheet as sleep could not claim her in the wee hours of the morning. Sitting up in the bed, Keira looked over the invitation she received just two hours prior, concern and confusion wracking her expression as she re-read it over and over. She heard what Tullius had to say, but what of Ulfric? Of course, going there would provide not only that opportunity but she could enlist and get revenge on the Imperials, but Ulfric requested her personally. Maybe she was reading into it too much, maybe it was him personally but rather how he cordially sent invites? It drove Keira nearly mad, and even she knew it shouldn’t rile her up, especially since she’s supposed to leave tomorrow to get to Windhelm. A defeated sigh escaping her quietly, she tried to get some rest before the Gods brought the sun up.
      The late morning rays peaked over the window, bright white light illuminating the sleeping woman harshly as the new day was upon her. Growling at the rudeness of the sun, Keira slowly raised up from the mass of green she was curled up in as a gigantic yawn roared from the depths of her throat. 
“Morning sunshine.” Farengar greeted Keira, standing in the doorway with a grin. 
“Hmph…” 
“Breakfast is ready, albeit a little cold.” 
“What timeishit?” 
“Nearly noon.” 
“Hmm…Wait, NOON!? Oh no, I need to hurry up!” 
“Hold your horses Keira, you will eat your breakfast before you go!” 
“But…!” 
“No buts. Go in the main hall and eat.” 
“Yes Uncle…” 
      Keira, with a defeated yawn, trudged into the main hall to claim her late-morning breakfast. The Jarl was seated on his throne, his two confidants on either side as they discussed the day’s news and the ongoing politics. Keira ate quietly at the middle of the long table, trying to not scarf it all down despite the fact she was in a hurry. The Jarl noticed her and had a wary look upon his face before it faded to his neutral expression, his confidants already in the know as Keira continued to eat. Farengar came to join her at the table, having fixed his bed up from Keira’s mess. The duo weren’t aware of the Jarl’s watchful gaze as Keira finished her food. 
“Alright, time to head out. See you soon, Uncle!” 
“Wait, don’t you need gold for the carriage?” 
“No, I have some saved up from the trip to Bleak Falls.” 
“Ah, well at least take my fur cloak then.” 
“I will, but why?” 
Farengar leaned close so his next words would only be heard by her, “Thalmor are patrolling the roads more frequently. This can help shield you for the time being.” 
“Oh, I understand. Thank you.” 
     Keira took the thick fur cloak in hand, and hugging the man closely she turned to depart Dragonsreach, her uncle seeing her off outside of Whiterun before returning to his courtly duties. Heading to the stables, Keira spotted the carriage and the driver. 
“Need a ride? I can take you to all the hold capitals.” 
“I need a swift ride to Windhelm. How much is it?” 
“20 gold, my lady.” 
“Thank you, and here you are.” Keira handed the gold over, before climbing aboard the carriage.
“That cloak you have will do you good; with Evening Star upon us, the harsh cold will become harsher up there.” 
“Oh, I see. Well, can you wake me when we’re half-way there?” 
“Of course ma’am.” The driver whipped the horses awake, and with a jolt the carriage swiftly left the stables and Whiterun behind. Keira would miss her uncle, but not too badly as she knew where he was now. 
     The ride to Windhelm was interminable as along the journey she was on and off in her sleep. Passing through the countryside north, crossing White River into the Pale Hold, the cold and snow began to trickle upon them the further they traveled. Snowberries lined their path in the bright white terrain, blood red in comparison as the carriage trekked toward Windhelm. Passing Lake Yorgrim and toward its river, the carriage couldn’t pass any further due to the wheels locking up in the snow. 
“I’m sorry mi’lady, but you will have to make your own way there.” 
“That’s alright. Thank you nonetheless.” 
     Keira hopped down from the carriage, equipping the cloak on her as she made her way west along the river. Passing the voluptuous snowberries in the blanket of purest white, she could see the city just beyond – a towering city standing against the wrath of winter and the coldest of winds. Just a bridge to go before she could close in, Keira spotted ahead of her a small group of Thalmor Justiciars, three at the least. Drawing the hood of the cloak tightly over her head, she attempted to walk past them stealthily as they came closer. 
“Do you think the Daedric spawn is around here?” 
“From what my spy has told me, the courier found his mark and she should be on her way here.” 
“I see. We should make more rounds then.” 
“Agreed.” 
‘They knew?’ Keira thought grimly as she tried to keep her pace even as she walked. When she passed the second, her cloak got hung on the Thalmor’s weapon, pulling the hood from her head.
“What in the-? There she is! The Daedra child!” 
“Shit!” 
     Keira ran as fast as she could in her human form, not wishing to take the time to transform with them on her trail. She figured the city could become her sanctuary if she could get there in time, as one of the three Justiciars fired arrows, the second firing magic as the third followed in pursuit. Reaching the center of the first bridge across the frozen river, Keira found a caravan making its way toward her, nearby a ripened Snowberry bush. As a last ditch effort, Keira lit her hand aflame as she ignited the fruit-bearing plant, scaring the horse guiding the wagon. The horse swayed, and the wagon with it, in multiple directions in front of the Thalmor, giving Keira a bit of breathing room as she sprinted toward the second bridge – the bridge to Windhelm. The Thalmor killed the horse, clamoring over the caravan in order to stop her from reaching out of their jurisdiction. The two of the three fired vigorously at her as they followed her across the bridge. As she came close to within city walls, she spotted Stormcloaks on patrol, and luck was with her as they noticed the Thalmor approaching. Coming to stop them, she ran into a sentry. 
“Halt! Who are you?” 
“I’m Keira! Jarl Ulfric sent me an invitation! Please, stop the Thalmor!” 
“Oh yes, you’re the one we’re expecting. We shall immediately, go on ahead.” 
     Running with whatever energy she could muster, she ran to the large bronze doors into the city as the Stormcloaks intercepted the Thalmor. As she stopped once the doors closed behind her, panting for breath, Keira looked up to see giant marble buildings glittering with snow all around her. Braziers burning a warm, golden orange against the bitter white wind as the palace stood mighty and strong in the center of it all. Slowly walking, she was unaware of the arrow embedded in her side as the cold numbed the pain as she strode toward the palace. Upon entering, the warmth shed the cold from her body as she approached the throne. Before reaching said throne, her vision went black as she fell onto the blue-carpeted floor; the last thing she could see was Ulfric approaching her worriedly.
“…Will she make it?” 
“Yes, it’s a flesh wound. Due to the cold and how far she exuded her energy, it’s why she passed out as she did. Quite a feat at all she made it this far.” 
“I see. When she wakes, see to it she is fed and taken care of.” 
“Yes, my lord.”          
     When Keira had awakened from her slumber, she noticed she was in a semi-darkened room lit by the hearth fire, illuminating her form in a bronze afterglow. Groggily sitting up, Keira raised herself from the bed and examined her now healed side. Standing slowly to her feet, she opened the ebony door to the hallway, equally dim-lit as she peered around both corners. Noting the bedroom to her far left was the Jarl’s, she assumed the door on the far right was the exit. Slipping out of the bedroom, Keira went to the door to overhear voices behind it. 
“If he's not with us, he's against us.” 
“He knows that. They all know that.” 
“How long are you going to wait?” 
“You think I need to send Balgruuf a stronger message?” 
“If by message you mean shoving a sword through his gullet.” 
“Taking his city and leaving him in disgrace would make a more powerful statement, don't you think?” 
“So we're ready to start this war in earnest then?” 
“Soon.” 
“I still say you should take them all out like you did Deadking Torygg.” 
“Torygg was merely a message to the other Jarls. Whoever we replace them with will need the support of our armies.” 
“We're ready when you are.”
“Things hinge on Whiterun. If we can take the city without bloodshed all the better, but if not...” 
“The people are behind you.” 
“Many I fear still need convincing.” 
“Then let them die with their false kings.” 
“We've been soldiers a long time. We know the price of freedom. The people are still weighing things in their hearts.” 
“What's left of Skyrim to wager?” 
“They have families to think of.” 
“How many of their sons and daughters follow your banner? We are their families.” 
“Well put, friend. Tell me, Galmar, why do you fight for me?” 
“I'd follow you into the depths of Oblivion, you know that.” 
“Yes, but why do you fight? If not for me, what then?”
“I'll die before elves dictate the fates of men. Are we not one in this?” 
“I fight for the men I've held in my arms, dying on foreign soil. I fight for their wives and children, who's names I heard whispered in their last breaths. I fight for we few who did come home, only to find our country full of strangers wearing familiar faces. I fight for my people impoverished to pay the debts of an Empire too weak to rule them, yet brands them criminals for wanting to rule themselves! I fight so that all the fighting I've already done hasn't been for nothing. I fight...because I must.” 
“Your words give voice to what we all feel, Ulfric. And that's why you will be High King. But the day words are enough, will be the day soldiers like us are no longer needed.” 
“I would gladly retire from the world were such a day to dawn.” 
“Aye. But in the meantime, we have a war to plan.” As the conversation ended, Keira opened the door. Ulfric and Galmar turned to greet her, half curious as to whether she heard them or not.
“Ah, sleeping beauty awakens.” Ulfric started, giving her a rare smile. 
“Oh, ah, thank you my Jarl. I’m sorry for the inconvenience I put upon you.” 
“The Thalmor were the cause, yes?” Galmar cut in. 
“Ah, yes. Three of them attacked me on my way here.” 
“They are disposed of, and there is no need to rush into the why and how. Come, you must be famished.” Ulfric interred, giving an eye to Galmar. 
“Oh, thank you, but I hope to inquire you about a few things, my Jarl.” 
“Aye, of course. Please follow me.” Ulfric lead Keira into the main hall, Galmar peering over a map of Skyrim as they sat at the elongated dining table. “Now, how may I be of service?” He asked, a charming smile graced his features as his honey eyes fell upon Keira. 
“Erm, well, I have many questions… but the main ones are of why you invited me of all people in Skyrim here and how the Civil War even came to fruition?” Ulfric’s smile faltered at her questions, but returned when he sought to answer the first. 
“Because I know Helgen was not an easy feat to escape from. Ralof has gotten word to me that you are very capable in fighting, and not to mention I have my own questions for you, if I may.” 
“Of course, my Jarl, but I ask you be open minded because the answers I may give won’t be easy to understand.” 
“Oh, if they are hard to give, then it can wait for another time. As for the Civil War… it began many years ago, when the Great War began. Are you familiar with it?” 
“Vaguely. I know bits and pieces.”
“Ah, well, the Thalmor captured me and held me prisoner, my words hanging in the balance for the capital in Cyrodil. I did not break, however, as I found a way to escape. When I returned from the War, the Markarth Incident began.” 
“What’s the Markarth Incident?”
“Markarth had been overrun by ‘the Madmen of the Reach’, known as Forsworn. Jarl Igmund sought my help in reclaiming his father’s city. I offered my men in return for Talos Worship, and we took Markarth back. Eventually the Legion did not like it because it violated the White-Gold Concordat and sought to fix it. Because of the growing pressure, the Legion had to let the worship continue before the damn elves pressured them into throwing the men. The betrayal from the Legion is why I fight.” 
“I see. I’m sorry if that was painful to remember, my Jarl.” 
“Ah, there is no need to fret. That history is what has made the man you see today.” 
“True. Erm, I’m afraid I had overheard your conversation earlier with Galmar. Will you really take Whiterun?”
“Ah… Well, I cannot blame you for your curiosity. Yes, if Balgruuf does not answer.” 
“Well, I wish to join the Stormcloaks, but I need something in return.” 
“Oh, what’s that?” 
“Protection of the court wizard, Farengar. I need him alive!”
“Ah, of course. May I ask why?” 
“He’s my uncle, adoptive, but he’s all I have.” 
“Ah, then I shall personally make sure he is unharmed.” 
“Thank you, my Jarl.” 
“Will you come with me, Keira? Come with me to take the city?” 
“Oh, so I’m a Stormcloak?” 
“Well, not yet. There is the Oath, and I wish to ask about the Thalmor.” 
“I see. Well, I need to ask how you feel about Hircine and his children…” 
“Hircine? His children? I have read books on the subjects, why?” 
“… The Thalmor slaughtered my family, my pack. They seek to kill me next because I am the rare Child of Hircine.” 
“Child of Hircine? What does that mean?” 
“It means I was born from those who are blessed with the wolf blood… I barely escaped the Thalmor attack, but of course when I came into Skyrim was when the Legion took me in, thinking I was a rebel.” 
“I see… Well, this certainly explains some things.” 
“Huh? What do you mean?” 
“I sensed something different about you when I first laid my eyes on you. Not in a bad way, but rather… unique.” 
“I see…” 
“Seeing as the Thalmor wish to hunt you down, they see you as a threat to their cause.” 
“I suppose so, but my pack never cared for politics. We were peaceful…” 
“Aye, but the Thalmor care little for peace.” 
“I know that now…”
“I’m sorry, Keira, that your family got caught up in this. So you’ve stayed with your uncle since you’ve been here?” 
“No, I haven’t a permanent place, my Jarl.” 
“Ah, well you may stay here so long as you wish, and you may simply regard me as Ulfric.” 
“Oh thank you, my Ja- I mean Ulfric.” As she stood to excuse herself, Galmar entered the room. 
“My Lord, we are ready.”
“Is that so? Well then, Keira, are you ready?” 
“Ready?” 
“For the Battle of Whiterun.” 
“Eh?! Already?! You guys move quick…” 
“We try.” Galmar interrupted. 
“And my uncle?” 
“Scouts have him in sights.”
“…Alright.” 
“It is time to face destiny, and the Gods, in this moment of truth.” Ulfric surmised, as the trio left the palace and into the cold as they took a carriage onward to Whiterun and the first fight in many for Keira to come. 
Category:The Elder Scrolls
Category:Fan Stories