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Just after the rise of dawn, a lone Nord woman could be seen crossing the border of Cyrodiil and Skyrim. One glance at her and it would be easy to tell that she was a high-ranking officer of the Imperial Legion.

Star-shaped earrings hung from the lobes of her ears, along with an expensive white dress shirt and black bolero jacket cinched along with her waist by a black corset. Her eyes were protected from the sun's rays by large hat that sat comfortably on her brow.

Attached to her shoulder were ebony spaulders fitted with a black and red cape.

On her gloved hands sat a golden ring that carried the Imperial crest. A pair of black leather pants met a matching pair of ornate brown leather boots.

Her pale face was framed by rose-red hair, and all of the red only accentuated the calm pale blue eyes that nearly seemed to glow in the early morning light.

Her mount was adorned with black and gold ebony metals that were attached via red suits of gambison and brown leather straps. The bridle that she held with gloved hands was comprised of expensive white silken ropes.

Attached to the side of the mount was a long black scabbard that housed a slender but sturdy estoc made from the finest of ebony, the long cross-guard was made of a twisted iron rod that sat atop a dark oak handle. The pommel of the blade was comprised of another twisting metal that wrapped around and encased a masterfully cut ocean-blue sapphire that matched the woman's eyes. Attached to her hip sat a matching parrying dagger, except the twisted guard curved upwards towards the blade in a fashion meant to capture another opponent's weapon.

Her entire demeanour and appearance befitted that of a duelist or a fencer, and a wealthy one at that. It was a display of both wealth and power that enhanced her seductive charm and beauty.

But this charm was offset by the horse she rode.

Its exposed bones and decayed flesh were so ugly it was matched only by the pungent rotting smell that surrounded it. Its glowing white eyes, unfortunately, drew attention to the sickly white fur that barely seemed to cling to its skin.

The zombified mare was a stark contrast to the elegant woman that sat atop it, but she carried herself without giving it any thought as if it was a normal occurrence. But the guards of the village she was approaching had different reactions to the necro-horse.

"Halt! State your name and your business!"

The Nord woman looked up to see half a dozen archers holding arrows drawn in her direction, all of which standing over a bridge that overlooked a gate that led into the fort village. She looked at the mass-produced bows of the Imperial Legion with an amused smile.

"Palatine Linnea of the Imperial Shadow Legion. I'm here on orders to oversee the execution of Ulfric Stormcloak and assist General Tullius in overseeing the aftermath of the war."

As she spoke, she raised her hand to show the one who spoke the signet ring that bore the Imperial symbol of the dragon, Dendrite embedded around the insignia.

"Shadow Legion, huh? Damned mages... Alright, fine! Bring in the...horse...and leave it at the stables. The general should arrive shortly."

The legionnaires released the tension in their bows as they put the steel arrows back in their quivers. The red-haired Nord woman, Linnea, laughed as she steered her undead horse to the stables stationed to the right of the gate, just after entering the village through the southern gate. The horses already stationed at the stables freaked out when the zombie horse approached them, scaring and aggravating the stable keepers present.

"Ehe~ Be nice Ivory. I'll be back in a little bit."

She jumped off of the horse, grabbed her pack from the horse and slung it over the shoulder after making sure its contents were intact. After sliding the estoc into a loop attached to the backpack she began to make her way into the village when a voice called out to her.

"Lo there miss! Are you with the legion?"

When she turned her head to meet the voice she met a clean-shaven man with platinum blonde hair that was slicked back. He was wearing a set of hide clothes that left his stomach exposed to the elements and had a beaming smile on his face.

"Aye, sir, I am. Do you need anything?" She replied with a calm smile on her face but was inwardly despising the interactions.

While few in number, plenty of Nords in Cyrodiil were more than vocal about their hate of the Empire and she was getting tired of dealing with them. The only reason she had joined the Legion was her leader's wish to have someone on the inside, but now that she was outside of the Vampyrum Order's reach she planned to defect the moment she could. Luckily she had friends in high places.

"Well, I heard the good word of Ulfric's capture and wanted to thank you all for what you've done. Ulfric and the Stormcloaks might have an honest mission but all they've done is turn brothers and sisters against their own kin. They've done more harm than good, and if the revolt in Hammerfell is any sign it won't do any good other than weaken us."

The Nord man shook his head before turning his attention back to the rose-haired Nord in front of him. "Anyway, there's a tavern down the way where you can get a drink. Tell them Vilod sent you and ask for the Juniper Berry Mead. It's my special brew, and I'm sure you would like it. Or at the least the discount they'll give ya."

"Thank you. I actually really need a drink now that you mention it." Linnea nodded to Vilod with a thankful smile before her expression turned into a joking smirk. "The Empire greatly appreciates your contribution to the war effort, citizen."

Vilod just laughed in kind. "Well, I'm just glad I could do my part to help boost the morale of the brave soldiers who put their lives on the line. You know what they say, the best way to raise spirits is with spirits!"

The two jovial peoples parted ways with the soldier heading to the tavern in question. The moment she entered she was met with the expected mixed reactions of praise and disdain, but thankfully the bar staff seemed uncaring of her affiliation.

The moment she sat down the barkeep immediately put down a bottle full of an orange-ish brown liquid.

"Oh?"

"Ha, well, I assumed my husband sent you in here," said a blonde woman with her hair tied up in a ponytail. "The name's Ingrid."

"Linnea. And yeah, if Vilod is your husband."

"Aye, he is. This is our bar, but he's usually worried about running the distillery. Drink up, it's on the house."

She went back to cleaning mugs, leaving the palatine to uncork the bottle of mead. When she took a sip of the mead she was surprised.

'Doesn't taste like mead at all, nor does it taste like gin. The sweetness of mead and the sharpness of gin are all suppressed by a nice spice flavour. And the texture. It's almost...soft? It's not watery or thick enough to coat my mouth, it's running smoothly across my tongue without any fanfare. This is good. Great even!'

"Excuse me, Ingrid?"

"Yes, is there anything you need, miss?"

The barmaid was unaware of how relaxed she became the moment she locked eyes with the rose-haired woman. The blue eyes seemed to make her bones as pliable as a king's mattress, and her will along with it. At that moment, this customer became her entire world.

The woman reached into her backpack that she set on the floor beside her and pulled out a journal and some sticks of charcoal. She turned to the back few pages and moved them over towards the barkeep she had enthralled in her hypnotic gaze. She smiled as she calmly, pleasantly, spoke with a mellow voice that made the other woman blush at its sound.

"Would you be a dear, and write down how you brew this delicious mead? I'm sure you've learned how to make it by heart and I'm more than willing to pay. Just name your price."

"Oh, I couldn't make you pay for something as simple as this! You've finally put an end to this war! I'd be honoured to teach you how to make it, honey. Just umm..."

"Don't worry. I won't plan on selling it without you and your husband's permission."

The barkeep nodded before happily writing down the brewing process of how to make the Juniper Mead, much to the surprise of everyone present. Their attention was distracted from the bar table, however, the moment a middle-aged Imperial man walked into the bar.

If the reactions of the people present were divided beforehand, they became even more so after seeing him. Some cheered loudly, while others were about to throw their chairs at him. But the moment the bar was about to erupt into chaos they all immediately felt calm and just sat down quietly without knowing why.

The Imperial just looked to the bar where he saw the woman he intended to talk to, casually drinking from a bottle of mead as her outstretched hand turned into a lazy wave. He sighed before walking over to the bar, shaking his head with an amused smile on his face.

"Palatine Linnea."

"Tullius! You beautiful bastard! Tell me, how's your mother been?"

"I don't know, you tell me? Cause I don't doubt for a second that you've been spending your free time with that bear of a woman."

"Oh she has been absolutely delightful!", she said as she licked her lips with a fond look in her eye. "And tasty~"

"Ugh!" Tullius exclaimed as he pretended to vomit. "I didn't need to know that much!"

"Ahahahaha!"

As the Nord woman stood up with her arms outstretched going in to get a hug the Imperial punched her in the shoulder instead, causing her to fall back into her seat instead while laughing even harder.

"Alright, enough goofing off you leach. The execution is about to start."

"Fine, fine."

The Nord woman grabbed the notebook and smiled happily at its new contents before putting it inside her backpack. As she grabbed her equipment and began to follow her friend out of the bar, she turned back to the woman she enthralled and winked at her, causing Ingrid to smile happily since she was able to please the charming stranger.

"So, how's the leg, Tullius?"

"Better. And Ivory?"

"Undead, as you'd expect," Linnea said solemnly as she turned her gaze to the wagons full of Stormcloaks. "I'm more surprised you didn't end up joining her when that fireball hit the two of you. I thought you had died that day..."

"I'm right with you there. Poor girl ended up taking the brunt of the attack, I'd be dead if it wasn't for her."

"And yet you still marched alongside you're fellow soldiers to retake the capital city. Stubborn old bastard."

"You say that when you're the only one out of the two of us old enough to see the eruption of Red Mountain."

"Yeah, yeah, fuck you. It's not like the Third Era was particularly fun..."

The two Legionaries stood around the headsman's block. Linnea had to use a calm spell on herself after standing next to the priestess of Arkay, knowing full well that she would have attacked the woman without doing so. Her attention was drawn to the sound of a man trying to flee his execution, only to end up getting shot down by the archers that surrounded him.

'Fool.'

"Ulfric Stormcloak. Some here in Helgen call you a hero," General Tullius started, bringing Linnea's attention to him and the bound and gagged man he was talking to. "But a hero doesn't use a power like the Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne."

"Hmm," the gagged man mumbled in "reply" seemingly already tired of the speech.

"You started this war! Plunged Skyrim into chaos, and now the Empire is going to put you down and restore the peace!"

The general stopped when a strange low roar echoed throughout the valley and over the village that drew the attention of everyone present.

"What was that?"

"It's nothing. Carry on."

"Yes, General Tullius!" the Imperial commander said as the general moved to stand between the others and the palatine. "Read them their last rites."

"I always hate this part..."

"Just bear through it, palatine."

"Yeah, I know."

As the priestess started to chant, Linnea felt a wave of nausea flood through her system in instinctual disgust. Fortunately, one of the Stormcloaks cut her off the moment it became clear that she wasn't going to pray to the entire pantheon of gods.

"For the love of Talos, shut up and let's get this over with!"

"As you wish," the priestess said with slight anger in her tune just loud enough to cover up the quiet "Thank the mother..." of the vampire just a ways off.

"My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?" said the Stormcloak as the commander's boot pressed down on his back, lowering his head into position on the chopping block.

As the headsman's axe lopped off his head, cheers and boos echoed out from the spectators, but it became easily evident that most of those present were in favour of the Empire, likely from their close presence on its border.

"Next, the traitor!"

As the commander called out, Ulfric Stormcloak started to walk over as the same boisterous roar echoed once again through the valley.

"There it is again. Did you hear that?"

"I said, next prisoner!"

"To the block, Jarl. Nice and easy."

The traitorous Stormcloak leader laid his head on the executioner's block as everyone waited to watch the beginning of the end of the Stormcloaks, but just as the headsman raised his axe the roar was once again heard. Except this time, much closer.

"What in Oblivion is that!?" General Tullius screamed as he caught the sight of a titanic figure flying through the sky just before landing on the top of one of the towers overlooking the fort.

Swords and bows alike were all drawn as one Nord woman voiced their collective opinion on the figure that stood domineering over the humans below.

"Dragon!"

The charcoal-black wyvern opened its mouth and released a mighty shout that caused the sky to whirl and fire to rain from the clouds. The explosion of power caused the headsman to falter and the general and palatine to duck under the collapsing stone walkway of the fort as they made their run towards the fort.

In that instant that saved the life of Ulfric Stormcloak from execution, the destruction of Helgen began and so too did this story.

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