Chapter Text
“Go to Helgen,” his mom had said. “Travel close to the border. The rebels won’t want to go near there. Plus the cart fare is cheaper.”
So that’s what Luis had done. A cart from Solitude to Markarth, avoiding the dangerous swamps of Morthal. Another cart from Markarth to Helgen, a large trading town near the border.
After that, a cart up to Whiterun, then to Dawnstar in the Pale, and finally to Winterhold.
That had been the plan after Helgen, but that’s not what happened.
What happened was that the day that Luis was to depart Helgen, he woke to the sound of rumbling cart wheels and soldiers shouting. Grumpy from lack of sleep, Luis went downstairs to see what the commotion was, still rubbing his eyes while holding his glasses in his hand.
When he reached the first floor of the inn, he saw people crowded around the door and windows, peeking outside. Luis walked to the doorframe to get a closer look. Outside he could see the carts and the soldiers that had been making all the racket.
Legion soldiers, standing next to the buildings and gates, waited for the carts carrying people in blue chainmail armor. Very familiar looking chainmail armor...
“They actually got him...” he heard the barkeep mutter, still polishing a glass. “Those crazy bastards finally got him.”
Luis didn’t have to ask who he meant. He saw the man himself, jumping out of one of the carts. Hands bound, mouth gagged, dressed in gray furs.
Luis gulped, trying to hide behind the doorframe from Ulfric. He wasn’t sure what his uncle would do if he caught sight of him, but he was pretty sure it wouldn’t be good.
Then again, would Ulfric even recognize him? It had been about ten years after all. Still, Luis thought, trying to get a good view without being seen, best not to risk it.
The Stormcloaks had been shuffled into lines now. There were probably about thirty men and women, basically all of them Nords. Ulfric stood near the front. Luis could see people scanning the crowd of Stormcloaks. They were probably looking for people they knew, he reasoned. He scanned the crowd as well. Nobody he knew. Or at least nobody he recognized yet.
Two Legion soldiers took position in front of the lined-up Stormcloaks. One was wearing a silver helmet and had more decorated armor than the other. The other was a tall, muscular Nord man, with auburn hair. He was holding a quill and a piece of parchment, checking it over. “Step forward when we call your name!” called the one wearing the helmet. “One at a time!”
So that’s the lady who’s yelling woke me up, Luis thought grumpily, rubbing his eyes. At least the soldier next to her was easy on the eyes...
“Those Empire folks love their lists, don’t they?” muttered the innkeeper. Luis just shrugged.
The auburn-haired Nord began calling out names. First up was “Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm!”
Ulfric grumpily walked forward, glaring at everyone and everything. “It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric!” one of the Stormcloaks yelled. He sounded about Luis’ age. Luis just sighed. How many people had Ulfric pulled into this idiotic scheme of his?
“R...” The auburn haired Nord stuttered on the next name. He cleared his throat. “Ral...Ralof of Riverwood!”
A blonde Stormcloak passed by the list reader. Even from where he was standing, Luis could tell that the blonde was glaring at the auburn-haired Nord. The auburn-haired Nord, for his part, seemed to be trying to avoid looking at the blonde entirely. Did they know each other? It seemed like it. Luis couldn’t help but wince. He wasn’t sure who to feel worse for.
The list continued, all Stormcloaks, without issue, save for one hapless man who tried to run away. He got an arrow in the back for his trouble.
All of the Stormcloaks marched, solemnly but without complaint, towards the middle of the town square. The auburn-haired Nord and his superior followed them. In the square, Luis saw what had been set up while he’d been focusing on the Stormcloaks.
It was an execution block, executioner included, a broad Redguard holding an ax taller than he was. So that was how it was going to be. No trial, nothing spectacular. Just killing them and being done with it.
Luis couldn’t help but wonder if the Stormcloaks deserved a bit more dignity than this. Then again, maybe they were just trying to kill them before they escaped?
Ulfric was pushed out to the front, and an important-looking Imperial walked up to him, crossing his arms. This must have been the “General Tullius” Luis had been hearing so much about.
“Ulfric Stormcloak!” the general yelled. He gestured around them. “Some here in Helgen call you a hero! But a hero doesn’t use a power like the Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne!”
Luis gulped. So it was true. Luis couldn’t quite believe it before, but now...Ulfric had done it. He’d really used his Greybeard training to kill High King Torygg. And now the consequences were coming back to bite him.
“You started this war, and plunged Skyrim into chaos!” the general continued. “And now the Empire is going to put you down and restore the peace!”
As the general finished, a strange sound came, seemingly from the sky. It sounded like a roar, maybe? But not the kind of roar that came from a normal animal.
And yet it sounded familiar. Luis couldn’t put his finger on it, but he felt he’d heard a sound like that before.
“What was that?” Luis heard someone ask. It sounded like the auburn-haired Nord.
The general looked around, then regained his composure and shook his head. “It’s nothing,” he replied. “Carry on.” Luis wasn’t sure if he was talking to the auburn-haired Nord or to himself.
Out came a priestess, wearing orange robes. She raised her arms. “As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Eight Divines upon you!”
Oh, the Stormcloaks weren’t going to like that. Sure enough, one man stepped forward, interrupting the priestess with a shout of “For the love of Talos, shut up and let’s get it over with!”
The priestess stepped back, obviously miffed. “As you wish.”
The man was guided over to kneel on the block. “My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials! Can you say the same?”
I wouldn’t be too sure of that, thought Luis mournfully as the ax swung. Luis closed his eyes tightly, wincing as he heard the ax hit with a sickening crunch.
“You Imperial bastards!” Luis heard a woman yell.
“Death to the Stormcloaks!” the superior from before replied as the Stormcloak’s headless body was pushed off the block.
The roar came again, louder this time. “There it is again...” said the auburn-haired Nord, sounding worried. “Did you hear that?”
“Next prisoner!” the superior yelled. Another Stormcloak was pushed forward, the blonde from before.
But before the blonde could take another step towards the block, it appeared. A giant black form, swooping around the mountains and towards the town. It got bigger and bigger as it approached, bigger than Luis thought was possible.
“What in Oblivion?” someone yelled.
“Sentries! What’s going on? What do you see?”
“It’s in the clouds!”
And then it landed on top of the keep. Blacker than night, with eyes glowing like red-hot coals. The visage was one Luis had only seen in carvings and illustrations. But there was no mistaking what it was.
“Dragon!”
The dragon roared, and everything was chaos.
Luis couldn’t move. There was fire all around him. People were screaming. His eyes and throat burned.
He couldn’t move! He had to move! He was going to die! But where could he go? What could he do?
The chapel! He had to make for the chapel! He could go in, maybe petition the gods for this thing to go away. It was better than nothing, right?
His thoughts were cut off by a voice in his head screaming MOVE! Luis jumped away just as the door of the inn collapsed. Luis could hear the screaming from inside. “There’s people in there!” he yelled.
“We’re on it!” A group of soldiers and civilians descended on the ruins, trying to dig their way through the rubble. A hand grabbed his bicep and Luis let himself be quickly led away. He looked to see who was pulling him along and recognized the auburn-haired Nord from earlier. “Where are we going?” yelled Luis.
“I don’t know! Somewhere safe!”
“What about the chapel?”
The auburn-haired Nord looked at Luis, confused. “Chapel? What-” His eyes widened. “Get down!” He tackled Luis against a wall as the dragon landed overhead. It breathed a large jet of fire, then flew off.
The auburn-haired Nord let Luis off the wall, panting heavily. “Come on! You’ll be safe in the keep!”
Right! The keep. That was way more stable than a chapel… “This way!” Luis was pulled along again. He tried to keep up, but it was hard when he was half a head shorter than the Nord pulling him.
Distantly, Luis could hear the shouts of the Legion soldiers.
“What is that thing?”
“Nothing kills it!”
“Someone get something to stop the bleeding!”
“Hadvar!” That was the general’s voice. “Into the keep, soldier, we’re leaving!”
“Yes sir!” Hadvar yelled. So that was the auburn-haired Nord’s name. Luis wasn’t able to think about it too much before Hadvar stopped dead in his tracks. “Ralof...” he growled.
Luis peeked around the larger man to see the blonde Stormcloak from before. He was free from his bonds now. He glared at Hadvar, no less intensely than earlier. “We’re escaping, Hadvar! You’re not stopping us!”
Hadvar looked between Luis and Ralof, then shook his head. “F...fine! I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde!” He grabbed Luis’ arm. “Come on!”
Luis looked at Ralof, trying to put as much sympathy into his expression as possible, before Hadvar shoved him in front, into the darkness of the keep. Luis heard the door slam behind them, and all was quiet.