Theren's Story (A TESV: Skyrim Fan Story)

Prologue

A brief excerpt detailing Theren's backstory before the actual events of Skyrim.

((Note: I align with the theory that, while a specific age limit wasn't ever really outlined, that elves can live up to 700-800 years of age. Bretons, imo, due to their elven blood can live up to 200-300 years.  Since lifespans of elves is an uncleared, differing subject based on the person, I'd just like to insert my own views on it in order to clear any further confusions.))

((Theren is roughly 170 years old at the beginning of Skyrim.))

"High Rock is up ahead! Go, Savr!"

The Dunmer woman sprinted over the lands, hearing the angry calls of the Imperial soldiers behind her. The clash and shriek of steel on steel as her love stalled them, allowing her escape with their child. She could see the settlement up ahead. She couldn't be caught here. She'd be putting anyone who did happen to grant her hospice in danger. 

Savryna looked down at the small babe in her leatherbound arms, cooing softly. Such somber, deep blue eyes--- She wasn't sure what blood relative he had developed those from, as both herself and Etheor had red eyes. The Imperials wouldn't be aware of his existence, as he was just barely born as of a few days former. She looked around desperately, then saw a house with the candles alight. 

She ran up to the back entrance of their home, knocking rapidly after gently resting her child at the steps. She pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, fingertips brushing the engraved wristband on the babe's tiny arm. His name would stay with him, her last gift. 

"I love you, Theren."

She turned and sprinted back to the battle, refusing to leave her lover to fight on his own. He saw her, a question in the furrow of his brow. She nodded, then grabbed his arm and led him away from High Rock as the Imperial soldiers recovered from their stunning blows and chased after.

Theren was raised by his adoptive Breton parents in High Rock for the first part of his childhood. His father was an Imperial soldier named Amaron, his mother a blacksmith named Blaana. He, of course, looked nothing like them with his dark grey skin and bright blue eyes, his hair a thick ebony curl. Due to this, there was no hiding that he had been brought under their care by their own generosity. He was soft-voiced and sensitive for a Dunmer, with the accent of his given home decorating his tone. He grew to become a strong, righteous young man, passionate for the lives of others, for the freedoms he felt that the living deserved. A given choice for the Empire's ranks.

He spent much of his life in Skyrim after his family moved to Solitude, and often considered Skyrim his true home. He joined the Imperial ranks for a short time as a soldier when he was matured enough, providing his pay for his family. He was happy.

He never knew his true parents. He had a feeling that they loved him, that only in a desperate act in saving him had they left him behind.

He knew that they would have come back if they'd been alive.

One day, everything went to hell.

Being the newest permanent residents of the city, they were the least trusted, no matter how long Amaron had served as a soldier for the Empire. He and his wife were accused of hoarding supplies from the Empire, of committing treason and consorting with Skyrim's enemies. All from a group of Imperial soldiers that simply disliked the family. At this point, Theren was nearly 160 years old. His father had been retired from the ranks for a few decades now. But Theren was a much more well-trusted citizen. After all, he'd grown up there, and nobody who hadn't intimately known the family would be able to connect him to his parents due to their differing appearances. 

Theren had returned to the city following a trip to Markarth on order from his commanding officers. He heard of a public execution of two traitors of the empire. He considered going to fetch his parents, but if they weren't already there, they probably had a reason for it. He walked with the excited crowd, slipping to the front without much complaint from everyone else due to his small stature.

His heart stopped as the executioner's axe glinted at its peak and swung down, severing its final victim.

Following the execution, Theren abandoned his post, a deserter in the eyes of the Empire. But he did not leave Skyrim.

After all, Skyrim was his home too.

He spent those few years in hiding, darting from city to city, never spending much time in one place. Never daring to give his true name, a different alias per city. Until one night where he caught himself in bad luck, long after the Empire had presumed him dead or relocated.

A sharp pain crackling his vision as Imperial soldiers stormed a small group of people. 

He awoke in a prison wagon, his arms bound.