Skyrim: The Nightshade Assassin

Unbound

He scowls at me, then turns his head towards the Nord to the right beside me. I quietly giggle. "You and me, we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the empire wants. And the lady here, we three should all escape together." Lokir motions his bounded hands towards me, himself, and the Nord.

"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief," Ralof sighs, resting his forearms atop his knees. I sit up straight, leaning my back against the wood.

The Imperial driving the wagon turns his head, and narrows his eyes at me. "Shut up back there!" he snaps. I feel the need to stand up and throw my tied fists against his helmet, but I force myself not to.

"What's his problem?" Lokir murmurs to the man in front of him. Me, I already know who he is. The cloth tied around his mouth makes me want to chuckle. I saw him being forced on this wagon during the ambush.

"Watch your tongue! You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King!" Ralof exclaims, narrowing his eyes at the thief.

Lokir suddenly widens his eyes. "Ulfric, Jarl of Windhelm? You're the leader of the rebellion. But if they've captured you...oh gods! Where are they taking us?" he shrieks, and I shake my head in annoyance.

I sigh, my eyes meeting a small town from a distance as we drive down a hill. This is boring.

Ralof's turn to speak. "I don't know where we're going...but Sovngarde awaits," he mumbles quietly. I know for sure, that I'm not meeting my death just yet.

"No, this can't be happening! This isn't happening!" Lokir shrieks once more.

"Shut up, will you?" I hiss, creating the Imperial to the left chuckle a bit, but hide it immediately with a noisy cough. His screams are giving me a headache.

Ralof sighs, Divines know how many times from the thief, but he turns himself towards him anyway. "Hey, what village are you from, thief?"

"Why do you care?" Lokir sniffs.

"A Nord's last thoughts should be of home."

"...Rorikstead... I'm from Rorikstead..." he said quietly. Then Ralof waited for my turn.

"What about you?"

All the men except Ulfric has their attention on me, being the only female on the wagon. "I'm not exactly a Nord...I'm half Altmer myself," I said, making sure my ears were visible. "But I'm from a farm southwest of Dragon Bridge."

"General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting!" a woman with a strong voice calls over. Oh goody, ignore the albino elf while she's talking.

General Tullius nods in satisfactory. "Good, let's get this overwith."

"Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh...Divines, please help me!" Lokir cries, gazing up into the sky.

Ralof scowls at all the Imperials surrounding us as we enter the town. I would travel here now and then when heading to the Falkreath sanctuary.

I wonder if Babette is worried about me...Arnbjorn must be waiting to hear my story if I live through this. He enjoys my storytelling of how many contracts I've almost died in, like the time I stepped on a bear trap, or the time I fell into a ruin, or the time I couldn't complete my contract because a spider was blocking the path.

"Look at him! General Tullius, the military governor. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him! Damn Elves. I bet they have something to do with this," he scoffs. I shoot him a look as if he was one of those Nords who was awfully rude to the Elf races. He then gazes around the town, a melancholic hint in his eyes. "I used to be sweet on a girl from here. Wonder if Vilad is still making that mead with Juniper Berries..." he thinks for a moment, looking back into his memories. "...funny. When I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel safe."