The city was crashing down around them; the stone walls seemed to be aflame, the ground trembled as if in fear, and the black shadow of leathery wings passed over two dirty and darkened faces. Hadvar dragged in hot, smoky breaths, his body shaking with equal parts adrenaline, fear and rage. Meeting the familiar face of Ralof in the mess only served to stir the storm within him.
The dragon attack still hadn't been as surprising as seeing Ralof of Riverwood being carted in among the brown-and-blue-clad Stormcloaks. Hadvar knew the man had defected to the rebel army, but hadn't expected him to have been one of the many caught in General Tullius' brilliant ambush. And to see him sitting next to Ulfric Stormcloak, his own personal idol, was enough to start the churning within Hadvar's heart. He could hardly help it.
They'd once been friends, brothers.
Standing eye-to-eye with Ralof caused, for but a split second that stretched into eternity, a silence to overtake them. The chaos around them, the fires, the dragon and the prisoner following Hadvar all fell away, and they were once again two young men hardly able to grow beards. They stood shoulder-to-shoulder, clad in brand new leather armor studded with steel and bearing the insignia of the Imperial Legion.
Fighting to keep their solemn expressions from melting into giddy grins, they spoke in unison as they took their oaths, to the Empire and, in their hearts, to Skyrim, the home they had sword to protect.
As children, they spent countless summer afternoons chasing each other through the woods around Riverwood, pretending to chase off wolves, bandits and Thalmor. On dark winter nights, huddled together near the fireplace in Hadvar's uncle's home, they spoke endlessly of how they would keep Skyrim safe as soon as they were big enough to hold steel swords. She was their home, their life.
They had decided together to join the Legion. There was not a man in Tamriel that new Hadvar better than Ralof, and Hadvar knew no one else better than that very man.
And he had turned his back on Skyrim, on her only chance of being rid of the Dominion that plagued her like a cancer, eating her from the inside out. Over night, it had seemed, Ralof turned from his oath, from his promise to Hadvar, and had disappeared into the snow, running to Windhelm to join up with the Stormcloaks.
All these memories flooded Hadvar's mind the very moment he had laid his eyes on the fair-haired man riding into Helgen. He had to fight to keep his cool under the watchful gazes of the captain and General Tullius, but the stoic wall he had erected had already began to crumble as he watched Ralof get in line to be executed. Hadvar had almost been relieved when the dragon attacked, putting an end to the trial.
"Ralof," Hadvar spat, giving into the storm of rage in his heart. "You traitor."
He knew the meaning of his words would not be lost on Ralof, and he saw the understanding in those clear blue eyes.
"Let us go," Ralof replied, and his own meaning did not get past Hadvar. Let me go, let us go. But there was something else. Hadvar almost had to glance back to remind himself of the prisoner that had followed him across burning Helgen. He remember she'd been brought in with Ralof and the rest of the Ulfric's clan.
A wall to their right burst out in an explosion of flame, deafening all sound, shaking the earth so hard that Hadvar almost lost his footing. They couldn't stay there forever and argue the past couched in hidden meanings.
"With me, prisoner!" Hadvar called over his shoulder and shoved past Ralof hard, unable to resist the urge to strike against the man who had caused the whirlwind in his heart. He headed straight for the safety of the keep, but heard Ralof call out to the prisoner behind him.
Hadvar didn't stop to see if she was following him. He didn't want to meet those blue eyes again. Hopefully this would be the last time they would ever meet.
Fate had to be kind once in a while, surely.