3Mercy
Marina woke up to a throbbing pain at the back of her head, something that was only compounded by the rocking of cart, jousting to every lump on the road, and Marina might not have noticed it while she traveled, but sitting in a cart, you can really appreciate how little thought the entire province put into maintaining the roads.
"Hey you." A voice called at Marina, and Marina turned to look at him, he was a Nord man, with flowing blonde hair that settled on his shoulders, almost handsome, really, but Marina refused to think of love. "You're finally awake. You were trying to cross the border, right?" Marina tried to reply, but her throat was drier than the ash on Red Mountain, so she managed a simple nod. "Walked right into that imperial ambush, same as us, and those two horse thieves."
Marina only then noticed the other passengers on the carriage, all of them Nord. The worst off seemed to be the man with brown hair, his hair was windswept and messy, he seemed to be pretty shaken by the battle, and wore only ragged clothing, not like Marina was in a position to judge that.
Then there was an angry looking woman with eyes the color of clear lakes, and hair the color of ebony, wearing a thick coat, with sharp, defined features. She would have been beautiful, had it not been for her scowl.
Sitting opposite to Marina was a scary looking man, wearing what must have been expensive clothing. He had a dark blonde hair that framed his face, and made him look about ten times as intimidating, and his eyes certainly didn't help. So full of resolve, of purpose, people like that scared Marina. The only consolidation was he was gagged, so she couldn't hear the scary things that he would say.
"Damn you Stormcloaks." Marina refocused herself as the horse thief cursed. "Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you, I could've stolen that horse-"
"My horse," The black-haired woman cut off, her voice stuck like an ice spike.
"Damn you too! It was a horse you stole!" The horse thief said to the woman. "If it wasn't for you, and these damn Stormcloaks, I could've been halfway to Hammerfell." The thief than turned to address Marina. "You there... You and me, we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants." Marina wasn't sure whether to believe him, because she was pretty certain that Forsworns were just as acceptable a target.
"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief," The Stormcloak said.
"Yeah, get over it, none of us likes this situation, but it's what we have to live with. I want to go to mainland Morrowind, but guess what's not happening?" The black haired said, her voice the same icy tone it was before.
"Quiet back there!" The carriage driver shouted, and Marina sighed, while the Stormcloak and the black-haired shared a look, and rolled their eyes.
"And what's wrong with him, huh?" The horse thief nodded to the gagged man, and Marina did admit, she wondered what was wrong with him too. If she recall correctly, she was certain that she saw the Stormcloaks guarding him during the ambush.
"Watch your tongue, you're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true high king." Marina didn't know her civil war as well as she should, but she did not expect the black-haired next to her to whisper if she understood what he meant. Marina just gave a shrug to that.
"Ulfric? The jarl of Windhelm?" The horse thief began to panic, and Marina thought she could hear him hyperventilate. "You're the leader of the rebellion. But if they've captured you..." Marina didn't need the horse thief to finish, she knew well enough what it meant. "Oh gods, where are they taking us?" But maybe the horse thief was even naiver than Marina when she believed that Markarth was the safest city in Skyrim.
"I don't know where we're going, but Sovngarde awaits."
"Maybe this is my punishment for running away," Marina mused to herself, perhaps louder than she intended, as she caught the whole carriage's attention.
"They punish people for running away with death?" The girl next to Marina asked, suddenly her entire icy edge lost, and Skyrim just got about ten degrees warmer. "By the All-Maker, have I made a mistake."
"No, this can't be happening, this can't be happening." The horse thief muttered over and over again, as if he said it enough, it'll become true, Marina was long past that point.
"Hey, what village are you from?" The Stormcloak asked to the three, who was currently spiraling down the panic chamber to insanity.
"Why do you care?" The horse thief responded before neither Marina nor the black haired could so much as open their mouths.
"A Nord's last thoughts should be of home." Marina thought it was kind of bittersweet, but still she cast herself back to the Forsworn camp. It might be dull, but at least she wasn't being executed.
"Rorikstead... I'm from Rorikstead."
"I'm from..." The black haired paused for a second. "Solstheim." She said after some thought. "Tel Mithryn to be exact."
"And you?" The Stormcloak nodded at Marina. "I know you're not Nord, but-"
"Yeah, I understand." Marina cut off. "I'm from the Reach, kinda middle of nowhere. My family lived in the wilderness for generations, living off the land and whatnot. It's not much, but it's a life I'll miss."
"Yeah, we'll all miss our old lives." The girl next to Marina seemed to soften up for the first time.
"General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting!" Their conversation was interrupted by a shouting imperial soldier as the group pulled into a town.
"Good. Let's get this over with." A staunch-looking man said. He looked so cut and dry that Marina swore she'd eaten stale bread with more flavor than him. His hair was white, and slicked back, his face was a typical sharp imperial face, wizen with age, and he wore exquisite clothing that should really be worn by someone half his age, and with much more interesting about them.
"Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh. Divines, please help me." The horse thief began praying.
"Look at him, General Tullius." The Stormcloak began a long conversation that Marina wasn't quite following, the first half involved rants about the elves, and the second half involved reminiscence. The only thing useful thing Marina gathered was that the town they were in was called Helgen. "Funny, when I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel safe."
"And when I was a girl, I thought I'd find adventure in the big wide world, not death," The black-haired said, almost in annoyance at the Stormcloak's reminiscent rambling.
Everyone fell silent following the black-haired's remark, presumably because it struck too close to home. Marina knew too that when she left her camp, she never thought that she'd have a one-way paved road to death. In the distance, Marina heard whispers, childrens asking their parents of what's going on, men and women gossiping over the Imperials, people heckling over Stormcloaks, Imperials and elves alike, while Marina felt a sense of shame wash over her, as she was paraded through the town like some damn piece of trophy. She promised she was over that life when she left the Forsworn camp.
Marina though was cut off her thoughts as the carriage shook to a sudden stop, and an imperial captain clad in heavy armor called for the prisoners.
"Why are we stopping?" The horse thief asked in shock.
"Why do you think?" The black-haired seemed to turn back into her icy self, and Marina was scared that the black-haired might doom all of Tamriel with her hot-and-cold attitude, because warming and cooling something that much must lead to bad effects, right? It wasn't like Marina was an alchemist.
"End of the line." The Stormcloak said, before standing up on the carriage. "Let's go. Shouldn't keep the gods waiting for us." He threw a twisted smile, and Marina gave an equally pained smile as she stood, while next to her, the black-haired gave an flourished eyeroll.
"No! Wait! We're not rebels!" The thief began screaming, clearly, he finally reached the bottom of the panic chamber, and was currently opening the gates to insanity.
"Honey, for screaming and begging to work, you must at least not be ugly." Marina just knew the black haired was going to somehow ruin it for everyone by insulting one of the guards, but she said nothing.
"Face your death with some courage, thief," The Stormcloak said, his voice a mix of pity and disgust.
"You've got to tell them! We weren't with you! This is a mistake." The thief ignored everything that was just said, and continued panicking.
"Step towards the block when we call your name. One at a time," The captain said.
"Empires love their damn lists," The Stormcloak said, earning a chuckle from the black-haired, and Marina.
"Ulfric Stormcloak. Jarl of Windhelm," A soldier called, he was of muscular build, and in his hand, he held a list, presumably for all the prisoners.
"It's has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric," The Stormcloak said, his voice strangely sober and serious.
"Yeah, it's been real," The black-haired added, "even if really, it haven't, and I have only lived in Windhelm for a few months."
"At least you knew him for longer than a carriage ride," Marina said, for once laughing slightly.
"Not really, as a member of House Telvanni, I try to avoid the Nord nobility type." The black-haired shrugged.
"Ralof of Riverwood." The soldier interrupted before the conversation could have been carried on, and the Stormcloak stepped up. "Lokir of Rorikstead."
"No, I'm not a rebel. You can't do this!" The thief darted off, and Marina decided, the last of his sanity was finally gone, and maybe one day, he'll find it in Sovngarde.
"Halt!" The captain shouted, but the thief gave no response.
"You're not going to kill me!" The thief shouted, as if drunk, but then, shock was the most powerful mead.
"Archers!" The captain commanded, and instantly, at least five arrows pierced the thief at once, shooting him dead. Seeing the way he fell, Marina guess he didn't feel pain. "Anyone else feel like running?" The captain surveyed the rest of the group with eyes of disdain, and Marina almost shrunk under the harsh glare.
"Wait. You two." The soldier drew attention away from the now dead thief, and to Marina, and the black-haired next to her. "Step forward, who are you?"
"Me?" The black-haired pointed to herself. "I'm Hayame."
"Well, you've picked a bad time to come home to Skyrim, kinsman."
"Actually, I'm from the cold mountains of Solstheim," Hayame corrected, with a smile, and Marina assumed that was what the coat was about. "But I understand." She seemed like a changed person in light of the Imperial.
"And you?" The soldier nodded to Marina.
"I'm Marina." She didn't feel like elaborating further.
"You from Daggerfall Breton? Fleeing from some court intrigue?"
"I wish," Marina almost laughed at the thought, "but no, I'm from the Reach, actually. Fleeing from a certain death by my entire family's crazy antics, turns out, one certain death leads to another."
"What should we do captain?" The soldier turned to the captain for guidance. "They aren't on the list."
"Forget the list," The captain said, almost growled, and Marina cursed the horse thief, who most certainly put her in this foul mood. "They go to the block." Marina heard Hayame emit a low growl.
"So acting cute doesn't work." Marina heard Hayame mutter to herself.
"By your orders captain." The soldier turned back to Marina and Hayame. "Follow the captain, prisoners."
"Rude."
As Marina and Hayame took their places, General Tullius made an elaborate speech about Ulfric, which Marina just tried to listen to, hoping she would get some knowledge from this.
"And now, we see the wild bullshit flying around." Hayame whispered to Marina, causing the Breton to chuckle, because she guess to an extent, it was the truth.
Before the speech could fully close, a roar was heard from the distance, and Marina rolled her eyes at everyone's panic, growing up in the wilderness of Skyrim, she's learnt that any number of beasts could have made that noise, from trolls to saber cats to other, more ungodly creatures.
"What was that?" The imperial list-reader asked.
"It's nothing. Carry on," Tullius said, and Marina was glad to see that at least someone in the entire town had common sense.
"Yes, General Tullius." The captain said, with a nod, before turning to a priestess. "Give them their last rites."
Marina zoned out the entire speech the priestess gave, it wasn't anything she cared for, or particularly believed in firmly enough to justify listening. Hayame seemed just as disenchanted, almost as if seeing the whole thing as a waste of time.
"For the love of Talos, shut up and let's get this over with." The Stormcloak at the block said, seemingly just as annoyed as Marina and Hayame.
"As you wish," The priestess said, looking almost hurt.
"Come on, I haven't got all morning." The Stormcloak taunted, what, no matter the standpoint, was a bad thing to do. "My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?"
"I wish," Hayame said with a snort.
"Same," Marina said in agreement, watching as the headsman pulled the ax up, and before Marina had the chance to look away, the ax was brought down, severing the Stormcloak's head from his body. His head fell into a basket with a dull thud, and let out a low gasp.
The rest of the crowd too was riling with emotions, shouting curses, words of support, and some were just gasping, and speechless. Hayame though, seemed far too emotionally stunted, just staring without so much of a word.
"As fearless in death as he was in life," Ralof commented, and Marina hoped that she would be as fearless when it was her turn, not crying the tears that were so desperate to spill.
"Next the Breton." The captain shouted and Marina let out another gasp, she was steeling herself for this moment, but now that it was happening, she wasn't ready.
Before Marina could move though, another roar shook the town, and Marina prayed that at the very least, a saber cat would come ravaging through the town, at least it would provide a bit of humor before her untimely death.
"There it is again." The Imperial list-reader said, turning to his captain, desperate for orders. "Did you hear that?"
"I said next prisoner!" The captain barked, clearly, someone has shoved a stick up her ass recently.
"To the block, prisoner. Nice and easy." At the very least, the list-reader seemed to have some heart, talking to Marina in a rather gentle voice.
Marina threw her company a smile, twisted by her almost-tears. Her companions nodded at her.
"Goodbye." Hayame whispered. "It's been an honor to sit next to you on that carriage."
"You too," Marina said with a nod, before turning to the two Stormcloaks on her cart. Ralof gave her a reassuring nod, and Marina gave another smile. Ulfric stayed quiet, but Marina knew she couldn't expect anything else.
Marina, after giving the group one last reassuring nod, walked to the block, shaking slightly, and allowing the people to whisper about her. She saw the previous body being shoved aside, and she saw the head in the basket, soon to be joined by her own. She was scared, no, terrified at the prospect of dying before life began, but now, standing in front of the execution block, it had a kind of surrealness only present in dreams. Holding back most her tears, allowing a few drops to fall, she placed her head on the block. She was a coward, tried and true, and in her last moments before she reached death, she can only hope that the tears wouldn't spill any further.
Another roar shook the town, and Marina, despite her predicament, almost growled, if a beast wanted to attack, they should just attack now, before she died, why must it taunt her like this?
"What in Oblivion is that?" Marina heard someone shout, and Marina prayed that it was finally the wild beast that has shown up.
"Sentries! What do you see?" Marina tried to pinpoint the exact beast type it would be, but the roar baffled even her, she'd never heard a beast that sounds quite like that.
"It's in the clouds!" Marina certainly didn't know anything in the air that roared, so she was only left further confused.
"Dragon!" Marina was prepared for everything but that. She watched as people began to panic from her block, watching as everyone ran, and a shower of rocks hit the ground. She think that it'd be safer to stay still in cases like this.
Marina heard the headsman let out a groan, and despite the situation, she almost cheered, no more fear of her head sharing a basket with another man! But then, she felt guilty, someone was possibly dead, and her first reaction was to cheer? Man her parents did not raise an emotionally stable person.
"Don't just stand there! Kill that thing! Guards, get the townspeople to safety!"
I'm a townsperson too, Marina thought to herself, groaning, and watching as more people ran.
"Hey, Forsworn. Get up!" Marina groaned again as someone helped her up, she was just so sick of it.
"Forsworn?" Marina turned to the person, ready to confront him with whatever was necessary, because even with her hands tied, she wasn't going to take it.
"Yes, you're from the Reach, you're a Breton, it doesn't take a genius to figure it out." Marina blinked, right it was Ralof, the Stormcloak that has heard every word she said the past hour. "But there isn't time for that. The gods won't give us another chance."
"Right, of course." Marina nodded, still trying to wrap her head around this whole situation.
"This way, come on!" Marina heard Ralof shout as he darted through the crowds to a nearby tower.
"I'm following!" Marina shouted a conformation, before shoving against the townsfolks.
All around, there was cries of despair, people's last words, and crying, not to mention the fact that everything was on fire. Marina didn't have time to dwell on the romantic tragedy of the atmosphere that she loved so much, however, as the dragon will most likely kill her if she didn't hurry. So Marina hurried to the tower, shakily leaning against a wall, the cool stonework a welcome contrast to the blazes outside.
Marina closed her eyes, counted to ten, and opened it again, making sure that this wasn't all some messed up dream or hallucination, and in front of her was still the same tower, and Ralof, Ulfric, and some other Stormcloak soldiers. They seemed to be discussing some matter about the dragons, but Marina wasn't listening, she was too busy figuring out what to do.
"Let's go!" Ralof shouted at Marina, causing the girl to jump slightly. "With me, up the tower!"
"Ok," Marina said, with a nod, before shakily ascending the stairs, with Ralof leading slightly ahead, and another Stormcloak soldier.
The Stormcloak soldier said something that Marina couldn't quite catch, and a strange, foreign sound ran through the air, breaking the side of the tower, and crushing the Stormcloak soldier. It was bloody, and nasty, but Marina was used to this kind of thing, growing up in a Forsworn camp.
"Fire... Inferno... Sun..." Marina whispered to herself, somehow, her brain was able to comprehend the words that the dragon were saying, but she had no chance to dwell on it, as Ralof urged her to jump off the tower.
"You sure this is safe?" Marina asked, because she didn't survive so long just to die like that.
"Trust me!" Ralof said. "We'll follow when we can."
"Ok." Marina closed her eyes, and jumped, landing in a large, open room filled with flames. Marina looked around, trying to orient herself, and find the way out, when she found Hayame by a counter, grabbing as much mead as possible.
"What?" Hayame asked once she caught Marina's stare. "It's not like anyone else is using it, plus, it's possibly the only meads with juniper berries left in the world."
"Alright, but you can't defend yourself with your hands full."
"Says the person who is still in binds." Marina rolled her eyes.
"I don't have a choice in that."
"Yes you do. You just stand next to the fire and-"
"I'm not suicidal," Marina cut off.
"Fine." Hayame rolled her eyes, and kicked some half-burnt rucksack to her feet, placing all the mead in it, before tossing it over one shoulder. "Let's go together?"
"Sure." Marina shrugged, not like she had a better plan.
The two walked out of the burning inn, only to be greeted with even more fire, and screaming, the smell of smoke, and burning flesh floating through the air. Marina didn't mind it much, there was a certain romantic tragedy to it that she always loved.
"Still alive, prisoners?" Marina was jousted out of her thoughts at the voice of a certain Imperial list-reader, and she felt Hayame roll her eyes. "Keep close to me if you want to stay that way." Marina and Hayame shared a look, a collective 'what-is-there-left-to-lose' shrug, and nodded. "Gunnar, take care of the boy." The list-reader turned to another imperial soldier, and Marina proceeded to zone out their conversation, she wanted to focus on the mood, really capture it, maybe one day, she'll chronical it down, when she find the words that the Forsworns hated so much.
Marina felt Hayame press her against the wall, and the list-reader shouting something about sticking to the wall. Marina blinked, disorientated for a second, but quickly followed behind Hayame and the Imperial before she could lose them.
All the while, the big, black dragon kept shouting in strange tongues, and consuming people, setting to fire more and more things with each passing second. Marina heard the Imperial yell something, and the General yell something back, and she saw Ralof out of the corner of her eyes, blocking the way into the damn keep.
"We're escaping Hadvar," Ralof said, calm and calculating, "you're not stopping us this time."
"Fine." Hadvar met Ralof's voice with an equally cold and stony one, leaving Marina to think the two had more bad blood than just soldiers on opposing sides. "I hope that takes you all to Sovngarde."
"You!" Ralof shouted at Marina and Hayame, and the two looked at each other in surprise. "Come on, into the keep!"
AN: How is it? Tell me if it'll flop like a fish out of the water, and I'll delete it if it will, or tell me if it's good/decent, and I should continue. This was originally going to be longer, but I didn't expect this to be so long already, I don't know if this is actually long though... I've never posted a fanfiction before, so tell me how long you want the chapters to be, and also, I wanted you guys to decide, should they go with Ralof, Hadvar, or one of each?