I woke up on a wooden wagon, with a rope restraining me. I looked up and saw three Nord men, all restrained like I was. Two had long, blonde hair, and one had short brown hair. One of the blondes had a gag in his mouth, and the other began talking to me.
"Hey, you. You're finally awake. You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there."
He nodded his head towards the brown-haired one, who responded angrily.
"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. You there.” He looked at me. “You and me - we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants."
The blonde spoke again.
"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief."
The carriage driver, an imperial in legion uniform, yelled back at us.
"Shut up back there!"
The horse thief looked at the gagged blonde.
"And what's wrong with him, huh?"
The Stormcloak retorted.
"Watch your tongue. You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King."
"Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You're the leader of the rebellion. But if they've captured you... Oh gods, where are they taking us?"
"I don't know where we're going, but Sovngarde awaits."
"No, this can't be happening. This isn't happening."
"Hey, what village are you from, horse thief?"
"Why do you care?" He responded angrily.
"A Nord's last thoughts should be of home."
"Rorikstead. I'm... I'm from Rorikstead."