Prologue
My teeth were chattering. I was thumping my feet against what felt like wood in an effort to shake my legs and keep them awake. This was worthy of hypothermia. Since when did my room turn into a frigging fridge? Did someone douse me in cold water? Was that it? Was the sound of creaking wood beneath my feet due to the wooden floor? Wait, why were my wrists bound?
I swear to God, if this is one of your pranks, brother—
My eyes snapped open to a burly looking man wearing strange dark blue clothes. A sort of leather armor was loosely strapped beneath a thick-looking cloak of sorts. His hair was dark, and in tresses. He had a goatee that was slightly darker in color, and a black tattoo on his face that seemed to dance, but it could have been the shadows of the trees playing tricks on my sight. The very large trees that seemed to make the cold even more unsettling and chilling.
I snapped my head to the side, wincing in pain as my neck felt as if it had gone through a wringer of sorts.
"Don't move too quickly," a voice murmured by my side, belonging to a tall and burly built man with striking blue eyes and light blond hair. He looked every bit the typical example of Nordic strength. He also wasn't suffering from the cold as much as I did, which was kind of obvious. "Hits to the head are pretty bad."
"It hasn't swelled," a new voice joined the one to my right, though this one came from my left, and was definitely female. I blinked at her slightly pointed ears and shoulder length red hair, her sky-clear eyes showing concern as she thinned her lips in displeasure. "I told you it was a stupid idea, Dragnor. We shouldn't have followed the wind."
"Mother used to say to follow our hearts," the now dubbed Dragnor spoke. "How was I supposed to know this would happen?"
"This must be due to Sheor's influences," the Breton woman whispered.
"Not everything is due to a God's will, Rae," Dragnor said. "Bad luck is bad luck."
I looked at the thick canopy of trees over my head. My shoulders slumped as I let the cold gingerly caress and freeze my skin as my teeth kept on chattering incessantly. This couldn't be happening. This couldn't be real.
And if it was, then the blame was squarely on the cheese lover.
"You haven't said a word in five minutes, brother," Dragnor said. "You do remember how to talk, don't you?"
I blinked and then belatedly realized that the Nord was talking to me. The Nord from Skyrim was talking to me. I stared at him. I stared at him and then blinked once, furrowing my brows. "Do I...know you?"
Dragnor thoughtfully neared his face, scrunched his nose up a bit, and then slammed his forehead against mine. The impact made for a rude awakening. The pain I felt was pretty much real, as was the thrumming in the front of my head as my back was cushioned by the woman by my side. I hissed and groaned in pain as I felt my brain jostle about inside my skull.
"Dragnor!" the woman whose name was Rae exclaimed, "Why did you do that!?"
"Keep calm back there!" the Imperial soldier driving the carriage bellowed, turning his head sharply. "You traitors better not try anything funny, or you'll get what's coming to you sooner rather than later!"
His form blurred slightly due to the blow I had received, but then snapped back into position as I was gently brought to sit back up straight by a gentle, but firm push of the pointy-eared woman. "If you've got memory problems because they whack your head, another whacking is supposed to fix it," Dragnor said in a hushed whisper. "Everyone knows that!"
"That's not how it works!" Rae hissed. "You're just worsening things!"
I stared at the man in front of me. The Stormcloak rebel giving a sympathetic look back, mixed with a small fond smile.
"Better than doing nothing!"
"I said to be quiet!" the Imperial soldier turned once more, his face morphed in a scowl of anger. Behind our backs, a mounted soldier rode his horse near the carriage and unsheathed his sword, tapping the flat of the blade against Dragnor's head.
"Don't make me use this," the soldier warned hotly. After that, both took the warning to heart and shut up at the same time.
The mounted soldier trotted back to his post by the side of the carriage, leaving us once more alone with our thoughts. Well, I was alone with my thoughts for a grand total of five seconds, the time it took until the Nord used his fingers to pull on my ragged clothes and catch my attention.
"I'm Dragnor," he said in a whisper. "And whatever happens, just follow my lead and I'll protect you, little brother."
I blinked.
Another bunch of fingers grabbed hold of the other side of my ragged clothes, and as I turned with surprise already coloring my face, the shoulder-length red-haired woman spoke in turn.
"I'm Rae," she said, "I'm your big sister, and I'll make everything work out in the end."
I blinked again.
Considering how both a Nord and a Breton had said we were siblings, I stared at the Stormcloak rebel in front of me, half-expecting him to reveal his relative affiliation to the likes of me. He didn't, but he too shared my disbelief at their words. I didn't even know the Nord in front of me, or what his name was, but I decided he was a kindred soul. One who, when taking in the wonders and the horrors of the world, simply decided to live with it.
There was only one thing I could do.
I had to keep quiet, and prepare my nervous beating heart for the task of the century. I would have to run through a crumbling tower to jump out a hole in the roof in order to land in a burning tavern to make my escape from the fire-breathing dragon that would soon attack Helgen.
There was no way in hell I would be capable of doing that jump.
Of course, this would all be moot if the freezing winds took my life before Alduin did.
What a wonderful way to start the New Year.
Author's Notes: I wanted to write another fluffy fic, and so here we are. :3 Blame the muse. This is going to be so, so funny~
