The Diary of Zahrassa Barahir - Act 1, Chapter 2

Sundas, 17^th of Last Seed, 4E 201 – Part 1

It was a sudden jolt that brought Zahrassa back to reality, but her vision didn't return as quickly as it should have. That was her first clue that something was very, very wrong.

The first thing she noticed was that she was leaning heavily on something sturdy and covered in fur.

The second thing she noticed was the fact that she and the unknown furry object she was leaning on were in a moving cart.

The third thing she noticed was that her hands were bound behind her back.

Zahrassa sat bolt upright, her vision finally clearing up and revealing the figures that were sitting around her. Most of them were wearing Stormcloak uniforms, but one man with dark hair that wasn't in any sort of uniform looked like he was on the verge of panic.

Oh no... she groaned when she felt a throb from the back of her head, making a faint memory of the night before return.

Zahrassa had just finished gathering ingredients for Dro'shuji so that she could make the potion to fix M'zami's ankle when she heard a twig snap and stopped her writing short. She began following the throwing knives that she had stabbed into the trees to prevent her from getting lost when she left the road, keeping her dagger at the ready in one hand as she supposedly stomped away from the potential danger. As it turns out, poor Zahrassa had been walking right towards it, but she was so focused on getting back to the road that she didn't notice. When she made it back to the road, the first and last thing she saw before everything went blank were Imperial soldiers with a bunch of Stormcloak prisoners in tow. Someone must have knocked her out shortly afterwards.

“Hey, you. You're finally awake. You were trying to cross the border, right?” the blond man sitting directly across from Zahrassa said, nodding.

“Border?” she mumbled. The back of her head throbbed once again, making her vision cloud back over, and she laid her head back against the furry lump that was next to her to try and dull the pain. It worked for just a few seconds, because almost as soon as her head began to rest, the lump moved away. Zahrassa groaned and slumped forward, starting to feel ill. “What happened?”

“Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there.” the blond man responded. Zahrassa sat back up, tears of pain starting to well in the corners of her vivid yellow-green eyes.

“Damn you Stormcloaks! 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 and be halfway to Hammerfell,” the dark-haired man who was presumably the thief muttered before looking directly at the small Khajiit. “You there. You and me - we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants.”

“I...don't understand what's going on,” she mumbled once again, swaying slightly as the throbbing in her head came to a rest once more.

“We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief.” The blond man snapped at the dark-haired man.

“Shut up back there!” The driver of the cart snapped, causing another throb in Zahrassa's head. One of the tears that had formed dripped into her lap, staining the light brown dress she was wearing.

“And what's wrong with him, huh?” the thief asked after a few painful minutes of silence and head pain, indicating towards the furry lump Zahrassa had been leaning on just a few moments ago.

“Watch your tongue. You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King!” The blond snapped as she slowly turned to look. As soon as he said “Ulfric”, she felt my heart stop.

Zahrassa didn't know what province she was in, where they were going, or why she was tied up, but she now knew one thing: I'm sitting next to the man who killed one of my childhood friends. One thing she still didn't know was what to do about this. Should I say something to him? Should I bite him or hit him or some combination of the two?

The thief and the blond were still talking, but Zahrassa didn't hear them anymore. She was too focused on the death glare she was giving Ulfric, willing him to look her in the eye and still trying to figure out how to react.

“You killed my friend,” she eventually managed to say, her voice eerily calm and quiet despite the situation they were in. Her harsh glare relaxed into a blank, emotionless stare as Ulfric turned to look at her. Now that Zahrassa had eye contact, any kind of hatred she could have mustered in the few minutes of clarity mysteriously evapourated. It was instead replaced by some sort of exasperated curiosity. A few minutes ago she was ready to bite his face off, but now she just wanted to know why. “Torygg. He was my friend. Why?”

That was a dumb thing to say. He has a gag on, after all...

“I said shut up back there!” The Imperial solider driving the cart snapped.

“You don't remember me, I guess...” she said quietly, looking down at her thin hands and pulling against the binds. It was a long time ago, after all...

She was six years old and had only been with the Little-Wish's for a year. She couldn't remember exactly why, but Ulfric had come to visit Roghild, who were friends after serving in the Legion together during the Great War. Zahrassa had been in the cellar playing with her older sister Sigirek when she heard the front door open. She had always run to the door whenever it opened because she wanted to be the first to see Roghild whenever he got home, so she hugged her doll to her tiny chest and went bounding up the stairs. Normally, Zahrassa would have kept running until she collided with Roghild's legs, and he would pick her up and ask how his “kitten” was. It had been her favorite part of the evening, and if Roghild wasn't home at the normal time she would sit in front of the door and wait.

That evening, Zahrassa bolted up the stairs, but instead of running into Roghild's legs, she ran right into Ulfric's. Zahrassa was so startled by the fact that the man she had clung to was not her adoptive father that she ran to hide under the kitchen table. At that point in her life, Zahrassa was proficient enough in Tamrielic that she had almost completely forgotten all but one phrase in Ta'agra that her real mother had always told her when she was nervous, so every time she was scared or startled, she would start repeating it over and over again until she felt safe once more.

Ulfric was pretty startled, too, walking into the Little-Wish house only to be struck by a small cat who ran away screaming “shurh ahziss kirmir'iiliten” as fast as she had appeared.

Shurh ahziss kirmir'iiliten...be brave my smiling girl... Zahrassa thought to herself, sighing. The longer the cart ride dragged on, the more scared she began to feel. She hadn't said or thought anything close to 'shurh ahziss kirmir'iiliten' since she had started traveling with Idhisa when she twelve years old. Maybe now is a good time to start again?

Zahrassa looked up from her lap and finally recognized the landscape; Falkreath Hold. The walls of Helgen were approaching and she nervously held my breath. She would be inside of a walled settlement for the first time in three years, but instead of her own free will it was in bindings. The very fact that they were stopping in Helgen...no...

“Shurh ahziss kirmir'iiliten...” she gasped, bringing her bound hands up to her throat. That was when Zahrassa noticed that her father's Amulet of Kynareth was no longer securely around her neck and her mother's golden wedding ring was gone from its rightful place on her left ring finger.

“General Tullius, stop!” A shrill voice called out. Zahrassa twisted her head around to see a tall Altmer woman arguing with an older man, who was probably General Tullius. Her stomach dropped when she saw the Thalmor robes she was wearing. My father's amulet gone, my mother's wedding ring gone, Thalmor in the city, the fact that I'm sitting next to Ulfric Stormcloak...

“Shurh ahziss kirmir'iiliten... Shurh ahziss kirmir'iiliten... Shurh ahziss kirmir'iiliten...” she panted in a faint whisper, her heart nearly stopping once again. The only logical answer she could think of was that she had walked into an Imperial ambush, was back in Skyrim, and was probably going to have her head cut off for no reason other than being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Worse yet, Idhisa would have no idea where Zahrassa was or if she was dead or alive. New tears started to form, only instead of from the pain in the back of her head it was from sheer terror. The only thing of hers that she still had other than the clothes on her back was her diary, which had been shoved carelessly into her corset when she first started making her way back to the road the night before. A book isn't going to be much help for me now.

The carriage rolled through town and Zahrassa kept my head down, shaking like a newborn deer standing for the first time. There was no way out of this; keep silent, her head gets cut off; tell them that she was the long lost Sorja Little-Wish, and she gets dagged off by the Thalmor woman. Sure, I could probably escape from her, but what if I didn't?

“You've got to tell them! We weren't with you! This is a mistake!” the thief yelled as the carriage rolled to a stop and the occupants were ushered off. One of the soldiers just shoved the thief aside and motioned for Zahrassa to jump off, looking almost bored. Zahrassa remained still, warily looking at the drop to the ground compared to how small she was/ Irritated, the soldier grabbed her by the ribs and roughly swung her down to the ground. She couldn't get my footing due to how fast it happened and fell flat on her face with a whimper.

“Up!” The soldier snapped, grabbing Zahrassa by the collar of her dress and violently yanking her to her feet. She started to sob quietly as the soldier shoved her forwards into the line of Stormcloaks, who were all having their names called out. They kept bumping Zahrassa around as she stumbled forward, trying as hard as she could to get her footing and not fall over again.

“Lokir of Rorikstead!” One of the soldiers called out, and all eyes turned to the thief.

“No, I'm not a rebel. You can't do this!” Lokir yelled before running off. Zahrassa briefly entertained the idea of going after him; she would run after him, ask him to take her to Cyrodiil, I would find Idhisa, and everything would be fin-

“Archers!” The captain called, and Zahrassa was treated to the sight of Lokir being filled with arrows. It took forever for him to actually fall, and even longer to stop screaming and finally die. Zahrassa's chest started to heave with panic and it took every once of willpower she had within her tiny body to not scream. Zahrassa had never actually seen someone die before, let alone so...gruesomely.

“You there! Step forward!”

The captain was pointing at Zahrassa now. She remained rooted to the spot, still in shock at what she had just witnessed and frozen in terror.

“I...I...” she whispered. What is that going to accomplish, Zahrassa, you big idiot?

“I said 'STEP FORWARD'!” The captain screeched, and Zahrassa took a tiny, staggering step towards her and the soldier standing by her. “Don't be funny, cat!”

With tears streaming down her face and small whimpers coming out of her throat, Zahrassa continued to take small, staggering steps towards them. Soft murmurs were coming from the crowd of Stormcloaks behind her and a few of the townspeople that had gathered to watch the execution.

“She's not one of us, there's no way!”

“Look at how small she is, she probably isn't even ten years old...”

“I can't believe Ulfric would have children fighting on his side, shame on him!”

“They're not going to execute a child, are they?”

“Probably hasn't even touched a toy weapon in her life,”

“Damn rebels have child soldiers now, don't they? Bastards,”

“I don't think she's a rebel, she looks too young,”

“And you are...?” The soldier asked, flipping through a small booklet while holding his quill between his fingers.

“I...” Zahrassa managed to stammer out, the panic obvious in her voice. The Thalmor woman appeared behind the captain and the soldier and looked over the crowd of rebels as if she were sizing up a piece of meat. There was no way either of Zahrassa's names, Zahrassa Barahir and Sorja Little-Wish, were on the list that the soldier was holding, but they were probably on the Thalmor woman's list. It was either give a fake name and probably get her head chopped off by the Imperials, or give her real name and get her head chopped off by the Thalmor. Or death by torture. Or-

“Your name?”

Well, maybe there was a chance the Imperials would let me go! I haven't done anything wrong, and the influence of the Little-Wish last name would be enough to set me free! Even then, I could still probably escape being dragged away by the Thalmor, I'm a fast runner and good at hiding. It would be easier and safer to escape one unarmed Thalmor agent than to try and escape a bunch of armed Imperials who had just killed a man right in front of me...

“Do you speak Tamrielic?” The soldier asked gently.

Sorja it is.

“Y-yes, I speak it,” Zahrassa stammered, trying to look as innocent as possible. “Why do you want to kill me?”

“We need your name first,” he answered. Zahrassa took a huge, deep breath, and chanced a glance over at the Thalmor agent. She was glaring murderously at Ulfric, so she probably wasn't paying attention. Zahrassa almost hoped that she was paying attention since her prospect of escape and survival looked much better if she did.

“Sorja. I'm Sorja Little-Wish,” she stated, praying that her voice wouldn't shake. The soldier nearly dropped his quill as another murmur went through the crowd.

“Little-Wish? I thought they disappeared years ago!”

“I knew they had adopted a daughter, I didn't know it was a Khajiit!”

“There's no way that's Sorja, the Little-Wish clan are Nords!”

“What's Sorja doing with a bunch of rebels?”

“Figures Erisla would have brought in a cat, the woman was all about helping the unfortunate,”

Do you remember me now, Ulfric? Zahrassa thought, quickly glancing at him over her shoulder.

“She's not on the list, captain.” The soldier said, having recovered from his shock. The captain continued to stare at Zahrassa, so she gave her a pleading look.

“Forget the list. She goes to the block!” the Captain eventually concluded after what felt like forever. There was an outcry from the Stormcloaks behind Zahrassa, but she barely heard what they were yelling; she was too consumed by her own blinding panic.

“No, please don't hurt me! I've never held a sword in my life! I'm only fifteen!” she sobbed, eliciting a few gasps from the townspeople.

“To the block!” the Captain commanded.

“I'm sorry,” the soldier next to her said sadly, giving Zahrassa a sympathetic look as he wrote something down. “Do you having any living family in Elsweyr? We'll make sure your remains are sent to them.”

“R-remains?” Zahrassa wheezed. “I...no, I don't have any family...anywhere.”

There was a small commotion behind her as the Imperial soldiers began organizing the Stormcloaks, and Tullius began to address Ulfric, but Zahrassa wouldn't be able to pay attention, even if she tried; she was scared for her life and had no way ou-wait, I do have a way out!

“Help me, please, don't let them hurt me! I'll tell you anything you need to know!” Zahrassa mouthed at the Thalmor agent, who was now looking directly at her. Frightened beyond belief, Zahrassa let the tears fall freely. If I can play with her emotions just enough to get her to feel something, anything, towards me, she might step in. It worked when I was younger, after all...

The headsman's axe swung into the air and Zahrassa squeezed her eyes shut.

“Tullius, stop!” The Thalmor woman yelled, pointing at Zahrassa and striding forward. Zahrassa swallowed her urge to run away from the agent as fast as she could and remained rooted to the spot, shaking. In a strange twist of things, she had become her momentary protector, and Zahrassa needed to save the adrenaline for when she ran away from her after getting out of this place.

“Madame Ambassador, I said no!” Tullius cried out, also stepping forward.

“Erisla and Sigirek Little-Wish are wanted by the Aldmeri Dominion, and I am not about to let you execute my last chance at finding their whereabouts! Unless you want your Emperor to hear about your lack of cooperation, I suggest you listen!” the Ambassador woman snapped, cutting him off. People were staring, and the headsman had stopped mid-swing.

“Carry on with the executions while I sort this out!” Tullius sighed, exasperated. He grabbed Zahrassa roughly by the arm and dragged her towards the Ambassador. Zahrassa stumbled along, her eyes still shut, and she didn't open them until she heard the sickening sound of one of the Stormcloaks getting his head cut off.

Blood was thundering through Zahrassa's head as she and Tullius approached the Ambassador, and as soon as she was arms length away from her, the Ambassador reached out and grabbed Zahrassa's other arm with a painfully strong grip. She yanked Zahrassa close as soon as Tullius let go of her arm, and Zahrassa instinctively opened her eye and and twisted her neck so that her face was pressed into the Ambassador's side.

“Elenwen, this is ridiculous!” Tullius snapped.

“You know that you were ordered to bring Ulfric to the Imperial City upon his capture!”

“The sooner he is dead, the sooner this war ends!”

Another head sliced off. Zahrassa whined pathetically and grabbed Elenwen's wrist with her free hand like she did to Erisla and her biological mother when she was little and afraid of things that were happening around her. Elenwen's grip relaxed somewhat when Zahrassa kept whimpering.

“You were ordered.” Elenwen snarled. The two continued to bicker while the priestess read another prisoner their last rights, when there was suddenly a strange roar from somewhere in the sky.

“What was that?” The captain yelled. Zahrassa let her face out of its safety of Elewen's side to look up at the sky like everyone else, blinking as the bright sunlight hit her eyes.

“It's nothing, carry on!” Tullius ordered after a few seconds of just staring at the sky. Zahrassa barely managed to hide her face in time when another head came flying off.

“Mama...” she whined unwillingly, flinching. The same ill feeling began to develop in the pit of her stomach stomach once again, this time fueled by her embarrassment at hiding her face in a Thalmor agent's robes and crying when she was fifteen years old, but what else could she do?

“Fine!” Tullius cried, throwing his hands up in the air. “You get the kid and Ulfric, but I'm keeping the rest.”

Another roar, this one sounding closer. Zahrassa didn't even bother looking up and just tightened her grip on Elenwen's wrist. Please, lets just go...stop fighting so that I can run away...

“There it is again...”

Elenwen started to tug Zahrassa along, but it was much more gentle than what she had expected from a Thalmor agent, of all people. It was more of a guiding tug that a mother would do with her child, not a rough tug that a guard would do with a criminal. Zahrassa squeezed her eyes shut and kept her face down as she stumbled along, trying to keep her whining to a minimum as Elewen guided her along.

“WHAT IN OBLIVION IS THAT?!” Tullius shouted, and suddenly the roar came back right over Zahrassa's head. Elenwen stopped short and Zahrassa looked up to see a big, black dragon sitting on top of one of the towers.

“IT'S A DRAGON!” Someone screamed.

For a split second, the dragon and Zahrassa made eye contact. Then, it opened its mouth, and everything changed.