AN: Well, this is my first fanfic I'm uploading, it'll probably get like no views anyway, so I'm just going for it. This is bulk uploaded with chapter 1, so see the end of chapter 1 for any notes.


Prologue: The Fugitives


Whoever said Markarth was the safest city in the Reach was a liar, and needed to be stopped immediately, before any more innocent girls walked into it believing it was the truth. Maybe Marina was just naïve, and believed the first thing she heard, but when someone said something, it should at least be close to the truth.

Last time Marina checked, a murder out in public did not constitute as safe, especially not in the Empire's standards. Not even where Marina came from were murders outside safe. Sighing, Marina straightened her dirty rucksack, and walked ahead, forcing herself to shake the shock away. She'd seen dead bodies countless times before, Forsworn camps certainly weren't great for raising children that way, and it probably didn't shake Marina up as much as it should have, so she smiled at the passing strangers, ducked down and dug through the poor Imperial girl for any bit of gold, and any other valuables she might have, before doing the same with her now-dead attacker, at least the guards were efficient.

Smiling, Marina received a note from a Breton, she wasn't sure if he was a Forsworn or from High Rock, but it was all the same. The note, which he claimed that she dropped, instructed her to go to the Shrine of Talos, something Marina was more than gladly going to avoid doing. She'd just escaped the Forsworn, no way in hell was she going to investigate a Forsworn murder, or do anything involving the Forsworn for that matter, she was just going to stay a few months, before making the money to cross the border to Cyrodiil, and make a living there, away from the influence of her family. Or at least, that was the plan...

Marina ended up leaving a few days later, because between Forsworns, houses with daedras, and cannibals, Marina decided that Markarth wasn't the dream, and she might as well leave to Cyrodiil now.

The cold air hit Hayame's face as the Northern Maiden sailed across the sea, there was never a more freeing feeling in Hayame's life than this moment, when she could finally leave the dull island of Solstheim, and find adventure in the great big world. The Skaals might try to chain her down, but at heart, she was an adventurer, and there was no where she'd rather be than on the open road.

Hayame relished in the feeling of the cold air slicing her face, the water dancing all around her as the boat docked in Windhelm. Hayame paid the captain, and jumped off the ship. This is it, her life finally begins. The place was freezing cold, and these Telvanni robes didn't help.

Inside Windhelm was anything but the dream, between everyone talking of a goddamn civil war, and there was so much race violence, but Hayame still made it home. She was going to get rich, and then turn tails and move to Imperial City, because she deserved something in life, and she couldn't stand another second of this petty civil war talks.

Hayame found that being from Raven Rock doesn't get her many friends in the dump of Windhelm, so she mostly stayed with the dark elves, who recognized her Telvanni robes as something, and actually treated her half-decently.

Marina took a deep breathe, this was terrifying, her hands were shaking, and it wasn't the cold. Marina had grown up with this cold, wearing little but the petty protection the Forsworn outfit has offered.

Shakily, she grabbed her horse's reign again, readying herself to gallop across the borders into Cyrodiil, to freedom.

Steeling her resolve, Marina reminded herself the reason she was here, because if she was back home, she'd be just another disposable pawn in reclaiming the Reach, something she wasn't even interested in.

Marina jumped on her horse, and galloped deeper into the woods, praying that she won't get lost, not noticing that she walked straight into a fight until it was far too late, and Marina jumped off her horse, allowing it to bolt, before looking around, calmly trying to analyze the situation. All around there were man in red fighting man in blue, and Marina could only guess this was the fabled civil war that took a back-burner in Markarth.

Among those man, something stood out, a girl wearing a large, over-sized coat, and a guy in rags, arguing over a horse, which seemed just plain terrified. Then there was how everyone in blue seems to be protecting a man in some damn good clothing, while the reds seems to be focused on just knocking everyone out.

This was not an ideal situation to cross the border in, Marina knew, but she was going to try regardless, because they're going to have to drag her back by the hair. So Marina crouched, sneaking through the battle, hoping to avoid just about everyone who was there, but someone noticed her, and knocked her on the back of her head, Marina cursed her luck, and crumpled to the dirt, without so much a cry of pain, and watched as the fighting all around her blur to nothingness, and the noise fade to black.