Yeah, I own nothing, And yes my other stories will be updated.

Cold. That was the first thing that Desmond Miles registered as he woke from his slumber. The first thing that came into his view as his vision cleared was blond hair, but unlike with Lucy's that he was expecting to see was that it was dirty and more golden than the white blond of his friend. As the fuzziness cleared he saw that it belonged to a straight nosed man dressed in blue leather and chain mail. It didn't take long for Desmond to realize that his hands were bound with a crude rope. He was happy to see that je was still in his sweatshirt, jeans, sneakers and even his hidden blade had been left untouched.

"So you are finally awake stranger." The blond spoke.

His mind was racing, was he in the animus what happened to Shaun and Rebecca. Was Lucy ok? Where was he? The last question he managed to groan out.

"That must have been a nasty bump on your head. You were caught in an ambush at the boarder, same as us and this thief."

"Damn Stormcloaks. The Empire was nice and lazy until you started this war. I could have been halfway to Hammerfall by now." The third man in the cart said.

"Watch your tongue. You are in the presence of Ulfric Stormcloak. The true high king." The blond said smugly.

"Yeah, all this talk of war is simply fascinating but that still doesn't answer my question as to where we are." Desmond said frustrated. If he could find out where he was he knew he could easily escape thanks to reliving the lives of his ancestors Altäir and Ezio, even if he was some how in the past he could find a piece of Eden and use that to get home, after all he only had 72 days to save the world. But all of that was a moot point until he knew where he was.

"Skyrim. North of Cyrodiil. Tamriel." The blond listed Desmond assuming the area was growing with each suggestion.

"Are we anywhere near Masyaf Syria or Italy?" he asked hoping beyond hope that they were just different names for familiar places.

The fourth man looked at him as if he had two heads, though he couldn't add to the conversation because he was gagged, wonder what the story is behind that? Desmond thought to himself. When neither of the other two men added to the conversation he decided he would have to find a town then a map. He decided the best way to find both things was to remain in the cart for the time being. He did watch the countryside pass by as they rolled along, analyzing everything so he was ready to run at a moment's notice.

The other two men had another small conversation about where they were from and the carriage driver snapped at them to be quiet. As they approached a small settlement surrounded by a large stone wall Ralof, the blond man, started speaking of his past in the village Desmond began to get edgy. There was no visible escape. His left leg began to thump as it always did when he was nervous and stressed. They rolled to a stop next to the carriage that had been ahead of them on the road and they were told to get off the cart. Desmond remained seated until the other three had stood and jumped to the ground before following. Only his training with the assassins saved him from falling down.

"when we call your name step forward and proceed to the block." A formidable woman dressed as an ancient Roman solider ordered.

"Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm." A man with dark brown shoulder length hair that was also dressed as a Roman called.

The gagged man stepped forward as Ralof said it was an honor to serve with him. Over in the execution area Desmond could hear a man taunting him in his defeat. A few others were called before Ralof and then the Horse thief who tried to run. He was unsuccessful as a slew of arrows were embedded into his flesh and he dropped to the ground, no longer among the living.

"You, prisoner in the strange garb step forward." The woman called. As he was the last in the area he did as he was told. "Imperial, what is your name" she snapped.

"Imperial? What is that supposed to mean? My name is Desmond Mikes, but I am not an imperial, I think, well I could be if that is how you refer to Syrians, the British, Native Americans, or Italians. Judging by your faces you don't know what any of those are so I would say I am not an imperial." He said purposely trying to distract the two as he tried to wiggle his hidden blade in a way that he did not cut himself or have the motion seen.

The man checked the list, "Captain, he is not on the list."

"Damn the list, he goes to block." She said

In retrospect maybe pissing her off was not the best option Desmond thought to himself.

"Sorry prisoners, we will have your remains sent home." The man said clearly disturbed by the Captain's choice.

Desmond nodded while wishing the man luck as he didn't know where home was anymore. As he went over to where those awaiting execution were waiting he could hear the man still taunting the Jarl of Windhelm, whatever that meant. The later of which was glaring at the man "If looks could kill" Desmond muttered earning a look of confusion from Ralof who stood by his side.

A woman in yellow robes stepped forward and began giving everyone their final rights. One man stomped forward having declared he didn't have time for this and knelt at the block. Desmond squeezed his eyes shut as the giant axe swung down and parted the man from his head. He was carried to the side and Desmond was beckoned forward as a loud roar echoed in the valley. He wouldn't have been nervous or scared if those that lived there were not worried and confused. They were told to ignore it as Desmond was pushed forward. Another roar echoed, closer to the settlement this time, but it was mostly ignored. His head was forced into the groove and as he watched the heads man raise his axe the earth shook. He was about to close his eyes when the giant black form caught his eye.

In years to come Desmond would swear that he did not in fact scream at a pitch more expected from a girl than a man, in fact he would say he didn't scream at all.

A powerful blast from the beast's maw forced him back and proved to be enough of a distraction to get away.

He followed Ralof who apparently had similar thoughts. Just as the beast pushed off the tower, sending powerful shock waves to the ground the two men slammed the door of the tower they decided to take refuge in. The door slammed shut and Desmond saw the man that had been gagged had freed himself and removed the bindings from Ralof who stretched his aching arms. There were two other men in the tower, one injured the other not.

No longer needing to hide his movements Desmond was easily able to free himself from the crude rope binding his wrists. He flexed his muscles as the feeling returned to them. He had only paid partial attention when Ralof asked about the dragon and them being legends. The next thing he registered was being told to climb to the top of the tower. The unnamed man went ahead of him and was the unfortunate victim of the dragon as it slammed it's head through the wall and let loose a torrent of flame. After it flew away Ralof suggested they jump through the hole into the inn and escape into the keep that way.

"don't worry we will be right behind you," he said. As if he was scared.

Desmond rolled his eyes as he jumped, tucked, and rolled with a practiced ease.

"There is something different about that man, he would make a fine addition to our cause." Ulfric said before jumping, far less gracefully than Desmond.

Ralof had to agree with his Jarl and commander as he too jumped into the inn, Desmond and Ulfric both lost from view.

While Ulfric and Ralof were taking their time Desmond had joined up with the kind Roman solider who was guiding a small child to safety.

"still alive prisoner? Follow me to the keep, we can get out that way" the man, who Desmond heard another call Hadvar, said.

Desmond shrugged before following. After sneaking under the dragon, boy would that be a story to tell Rebecca, Shaun, and Lucy, they were in a relatively clear area. They then had a minor standoff as the missing Ralof made another appearance.

Both Hadvar and Ralof beckoned him to follow he thought for a moment. On one hand Hadvar had been more sympathetic and seemed kike he would be able to help better but he was with the group that had tried to kill him and were likely part of the Templars, assuming they were where ever he was. Ralof could have been considered patronizing before he jumped but he had been concerned in the carriage and from what he gathered he was with the group that was an indirect cause of his near death. Various other pros and cons flashed through his mind before ultimately choosing to follow….