The Girl Who Cried Thief

The Dragon Eyes

This fanfic is brought to you by BurakSatici 

Thanks for following, and welcome to the Misadventures family!

Now, the story continues...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Asmiir's P.O.V.

3 Months Earlier

     I awoke, eyes bleary and body aching, to small, insignificant forest sounds and the incessant turning of wooden wheels. I tried to move but my hands were bound, and I soon remembered where I was, and how I'd gotten there.

"Hey, you there. Are you awake? You've been out for several days."

     My vision cleared enough to see the gray skies and the face of the man, Ralof I think was his name. Or perhaps it was Rolof. When I didn't answer, he continued talking, telling me that the he cliff I fell off of was the border between Hammerfell and Skyrim, and that I'd crawled out of the river while the Imperial Legion were taking these self-proclaimed Stormcloaks prisoner. I could tell that Ralof had some animosity for the Imperial Legion, claiming that the empire in a place called 'Cyrodil' was being controlled by high elves. I listened to how the man sitting to my right, Ulfric Stormcloak, had murdered the high king of Skyrim and was the spearhead of the rebellion.

     Soon, we reached a clearing in the trees where a large gate stood open, people stopping and staring, and then moving out of the way. The man farthest from me, a thief I think, began to call on the Divines to help him.
"End of the line," Ralof said, turning his gaze to me. "What's your name, Redguard?"
"...Asmiir."
"Whoever you were running from, Asmiir, I think they would have been better then this."
     We pulled to a stop, and we're told to step off of the wagon. My clothes had dried uncomfortably, and the ground was hard. The city, Helgen, as Ralof had called, was a mass of small houses and stores, and lots of staring faces, all of them Nords.

The sun was out now, and names were being called. First was Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm, and then Ralof, and then the thief from Rorikstead. When they called him forward, he tried to run.

He didn't make it.

"You there." I heard one of the guardsmen call to me. I hesitantly stepped forward.
The guard, who's name I heard was
Hadvar inspected me closely. "You're a long way from home, Redguard, but you're not on the list." He turned to a woman in steel armor. "What should we do Captain? She...isn't on the list."
     "Forget the list. She goes to the block." The captain waved him away. He paused, lips wavering as if they would say something more, perhaps something in defiance, but he didnt. "By your orders, Captain." he sighed. Turning, he marched toward me quietly. "I'm sorry. We'll be sure that your remains reach Hammerfell." he stepped to walk away, but turned towards me once more. "You know, you have eyes like my sister." And he walked away for good. His comment gave me some weak comfort; my eyes were a dull, chestnut brown, as most Redguard eyes were. But at least I gave someone a good memory before I met my end.
     Everything began to blur; my sense ignored the sound of our last rites, the sound of the blade through the air, and then on the man's neck. I heard someone call out to me, and my feet moved on their own.

I began to burn.

     I froze in place; there was a burning hatred inside me, welling, growing, and a sense of strength and power flowed through me, burned through me.
"I said next. Prisoner."
"I heard you."
     It wasn't for the guards,no, this hatred was for something else, but I couldn't identify it. It was as if something inside me wanted to rip things to shred because...because...it was my duty.
The executioner stopped short, looking me in the eyes, a look of fear and confusion in his own.