1 Prologue

-Chapter 0-

Ominous clouds covered the sky creating a sickly, grey atmosphere, colours drained from the cold, snowy city, just like the stray piles of corpses littering the streets. The glistening blood trickled down the icy cobbled streets of Windhelm, tainting the once white snow a deep red. Snowflakes fell from the sky into Windhelm, the formerly bleak, cold and corrupted city. Silence filling the desolate streets that once bustled with the chatter of the citizens of Windhelm.

The Palace Of Kings was void of any signs of life, the air carrying the scent of fresh spilled blood from a fierce battle. An ominous stranger stood by the throne, a path of corpses and streaks of blood across the floor, ending by the body of Ulfric Stormcloak. The stranger, who stood above the corpse of the mighty Ulfric Stormcloak, was covered in his blood and the blood of his people. The stranger hardened their grip on the bloodied blade, a fresh reminder of the horrid sins they had committed. The stranger started down at Ulfric's mutilated corpse with a cold indifferent gaze, not able to recognize the man anymore. Ulfric had been a strong, mighty warrior, but to the stranger, he was nothing more than an eyesore, a disgrace, a complete waste of time. Ulfric was a corrupted man, nothing more than a racist, fighting a war that was just so pointless to the stranger, a war Ulfric never even had control of, nothing more than a pawn. The stranger was sick of all the pain and suffering caused by it, repulsed by it even, Ulfric had been a stubborn man, blinded by a thirst for power. The stranger stared down at Ulfric's corpse for a while, feeling nothing inside, no guilt, no remorse, just nothing.

The stranger gazed at Ulfric for what felt like a long while, hoping to feel something, anything, until he did, it had not been shame, nor sadness, it had been something else. A small smile crept up onto the stranger's bloodied lips, with a small chuckle, he felt a twisted sense of pride. The stranger had felt pride in their handy work, and it had not been a heroic deed, what they had done was far more sinister. The stranger had killed hundreds, thousands of people, innocent or not, and after all this time, they couldn't help but smile and chuckle. Their chuckle grew into a sadistic laugh, they couldn't contain their joy as they threw their head back in their laughter. All these years of pain and torment, with nothing to show for it, their repressed emotions came flowing out, all they could do was laugh out loudly and harshly.

At that moment, the stranger had realized they no longer had to do what others told them, they'd kill every last person who got in their way. They could do whatever they wanted, they'd no longer have to prove themself to anyone. The world had many threats, Alduin, The Volkihar clan, and that crazy cult. as they stood in the formed pool of blood that seeped into their boots, they decided, they would become one of them, they'd kill anyone in their way, with their bare hands.

The stranger, who was once a mighty "Hero", who would have helped save everyone, had fallen that day, and they had come back as something else. They placed a hand on their face, hiding their wide, twisted grin. At that moment, they thought of an infamous quote, you either die a hero, or live long enough to see yourself become the villain, and they intended to be the worst one.

They smiled to themself, giving glances to the corpses around the room, with empty, cold eyes, their twisted grin only growing wider across their lips as their gaze finally reaches their masterpiece, Ulfric, his corpse still reaching for his throne "What a wonderful sight~"