Father told us we weren't allowed outside during the execution. He knew I could cope with the sight of a beheaded corpse, with him being a hunter and having taken me as his apprentice, I had seen my share of blood and corpses even though I was only 16 years old. My little sister, Aelrika, on the other hand, was only 12 at the time, easily frightened and still a very sweet and innocent creature. I understood that he wanted all eyes and ears inside the house solely to ensure that Aelrika stayed indoors and didn't pull one of her famous and inexplicable escapes, so I didn't argue his decision.
Mother hated everything even remotely related to executions, beheadings and, in a nutshell, the sight of human blood -innocent or otherwise-. She was happy that Father decided that neither of us would be witnessing it this time, and so in exchange for the obvious disappointment in Father's eyes and my agreement to spend the afternoon indoors, which was obviously not top of my list, she spent most of the day over the fire pit mixing, tasting, chopping, boiling and roasting a feast for the family. Father and I had just come back from a very successful hunt the day before, and the larder was full to the brim with fresh meats from the hunt, herbs that we handpicked while we were out, and fruits and vegetables that we obtained exchanging some of our meat at the store in Falkreath.
All in all, it seemed a perfectly good evening spent with family and a wonderful buffet of freshly cooked dishes... That is, until the execution started...
Father, as always on the day after a hunt, had Aelrika on his knee and was reciting the adventures of two handsome hunters -him and me- as if it was a fairy tale. There were green forests, blue skies, clear-watered rivers, giant sightings, close encounters with frostbite spiders, dangerous sneaking-past hargravens... And Aelrika would just stare out the window in awe, imagining herself adventuring in such environments. It was in the middle of just such fairy tale when Father and I heard the unmistakable sound of the cartwheels on stone road. Thanks to the perks of being a hunter, we heard the carts a few seconds before Aelrika, which gave Father time to worryingly look at Mother, as a sign that it was starting. Mother knew exactly what that look meant and exactly what to do at that moment. She had spent a few years in Solitude when she was a teenager and, thanks to a healthy friendship with a bard, she learned how to play the lute.
Mother quickly grabbed her lute and started singing one of the many songs she had written after being inspired by Father's tales. Aelrika's eyes and attention went straight to Mother, her voice and her dancing. She would have been a very skilled bard, but she always felt very uncomfortable having that much attention drawn to her in taverns -mostly from men in different degrees of inebriation.
I started feeling restless. I looked at Father and could see a familiar look on his face. The same look he had when he spotted a prey that could become problematic. I could see he had the same gut feeling I was having... Something was wrong.
Mother had managed to keep Aelrika's attention long enough for the carts to reach their destination and by the time she finished her first song, no noise could be heard other that the usual birds and an unusually busy Helgen. Our neighbours were outside, walking towards the town square and talking loudly about one of the prisoners. Rumor had it Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm and leader of the Stormcloak rebellion, had been captured and was set to be executed in our very own town, inside our very own walls. Fragments of stories about how he used the Voice to kill the High King could be heard through our window. "Shouted him to death" one of them said.
I remember thinking how implausible that was. I imagined a bear, and how they always roar at us in the middle of a fight. "If shouting could do any damage at all, Father and I would be long gone." I chuckled to myself. Little did I know...
As the crowd gathered around the town square, Mother started setting the food on the table, which managed to tear Aelrika from the window cill and take a sit at the table next to Mother, while I sat next to Father. All the food smelled delicious. There was pheasant roast, rabbit haunch, steamed mudcrab legs, goat's cheese, baked potatoes, bread, butter, even a horker loaf thanks to Father's haggling skills. There was ale, wine and nord mead. For desert Mother had concocted a great mixed fruit pie... and there were a few sweet rolls, of course!
After a few moments, Father was carving the pheasant, Mother was pouring us drinks, I was splitting the bread and Aelrika was humming the song that Mother sang a few moments earlier when we heard a roar that shook the very foundation of the house. Father and I ran to the window whilst Aelrika started crying and rushed to Mother's arms. I couldn't tell what animal could have uttered such powerful and bone-chilling sound. By looking at my father's face, you would think that Ysgramor himself had come back from Sovngarde and was swinging Woothrad at him at that very moment. I had never seen Father so scared, and talking about a hunter who specializes in dangerous animals' pelts, that is saying a lot. Father looked at his good bow. A beautiful elven bow that he came across in his younger years, when his hunting included quite a bit of adventuring and exploring of caves and old ruins. He must have told me the story over a thousand times, and I was always excited to hear it again and again. But this time it was different: he didn't see a treasured bow, he was looking at a weapon and was getting ready to use it.
He quickly grabbed the elven bow and his favorite quiver. I rushed to the door, where he had left his hunting bow, and armed myself with it. I glanced at my wooden bow, and for a moment felt excitement for finally getting my hand around Father's hunting bow. Then another roar. This time even closer and more piercing. Mother and Aelrika ran to the cellar to hide, but Father stopped them and told them to follow us. He signaled me to open the door, which I did without hesitation and he ran out, bow in hand, loaded with a steel arrow and ready to shoot. He whistled like he does when he's signaling me on the hunt. I looked at Mother and told them to follow me close. As I stepped out, I could see all my neighbors running inside their houses and shouting "dragon!". "Dragon?" I thought "...what are they talking about?".
Father was a few steps ahead of me, looking left and right, searching for the source of the terror. A few steps behind me, Mother and Aelrika were waiting at the door, they looked terrified.
"Father! What is happening!?" I shrieked, realizing that I was just as terrified as my little sister. He quickly turned to me and shushed me. We were in a sort of danger that not even my father could hide, and that terrified me more than any roar or growl I had ever heard.
As he was looking at me, his eyes were drawn up and his expression changed from terrified to petrified. I could see his blood leaving his face as he turned white as snow.
"JUMP!" he shouted as loud as he could, and it startled me so much that it wouldn't have mattered what he said, I would have jumped anyway.
Mid jump, I heard a deafening sound. A sound of rocks and stones being crushed to the ground and against each other. As I landed face down, I heard the very familiar sound of an arrow being released from a bow. Father had taken a shot at something. I sprung up as fast as I could, loaded my bow as I turned to face whatever it was that Father shot at, but that arrow never left my bow.
-"A... a dra... a dragon? Is that A DRAGON?!" I couldn't believe my eyes. There was a dragon sitting where my house used to be, now a pile of rubble. At that moment it sank on me... Mother and Aelrika were just a few steps behind me, waiting at the door, the exact spot where a dragon's claw was standing now.
I couldn't move. By then, a few soldiers had gathered behind us and were unloading as many arrows as they could, but none of them as fast or accurate as Father, although no amount of accuracy or strength seemed to even scratch dragon scales. Father was shouting something, but with all the commotion, the cries, the screams... it took me a few seconds to realize he was calling Aetanna and Aelrika, wife and daughter, mother and sister... MY mother and MY little sister.
I couldn't cry -in fact, I haven't been able to cry ever since-, I couldn't move, I could only stare at that beast that in less than a moment, had torn my life upside down, had ripped my heart off my chest, chewed it, spit it, burned it and put it back in my chest. I felt I was falling, I felt there was nothing beneath my feet, I felt that only the beast was standing in front of me, judging me, making fun of me, laughing at me... But it wasn't laughing. It was about to breathe fire on me. I looked to my right and my eyes were drawn to this prisoner as if by a spell. He was running through a building on fire, with his hands bound and wearing nothing but rugs. He was going to die for sure, but that thought didn't last very long in my head.
Father pushed me out of the way. That was the second time he had saved my life in just a few moments. I landed on one of the stones that used to be part of our walls and hit my head hard. Everything slowed down, there was no noise, there was no cold, no heat. I turned my head as I was about to faint and the last thing I saw was Father... laying on the ground... very still... and on fire.
My name is Bjadrenor, my father was Savck, my mother was Aetanna, my sister was Aelrika and this is the story of how, with the help of the Dragonborn, I avenged my family.
