Hey! Sorry for the late update, but I was messing with school! Here it is, the final bit of Helgen! After this, the story will drastically change from the original story. So, enjoy! Leave a review! Thanks!

"Ralof of Riverwood!"

The blonde Stormcloak crept forward, sharing a glance with the Imperial who called his name. "Hadvar," he muttered. There must have been something between the two men, but Hadvar didn't respond to Ralof. So, there was tension too.

"Lokir of Rorikstead."

"No! I'm not a rebel! You can't do this!" In a flash, Lokir, the horse-thief ran for the hills, sprinting for his life. They young Nord boy, who belonged there as much as the horse-thief, knew Lokir was gone the minute the arrow entered his back. He fell lifelessly to the dirt, eyes open and gazing forward blankly.

"Anyone else feel like running?"

But no one was paying attention to the threatening Captain who spoke, despite her polished and regal look. Despite her station and important threats, everyone including Hadvar focused on the young Nord with the wine colored eyes.

"Wait … you there. Step forward. Who … are you?"

The young man stepped forward slowly, looking around at the curious faces. Their eyes rested on his features—pale greyish skin, void like hair, and dark eyes. He fidgeted with the ties around his wrists, the rope starting to irritate the sensitive skin.

"Baldr Stone-Shaper," he replied certainly, looking directly at Hadvar without an inch of fear on his face… He hoped.

"A … Nord?" He asked in what sounded like astonishment. He did not seem to believe Baldr despite the validity to the statement. "You picked a bad time to come home to Skyrim, kinsman. I'm sorry. At least you'll die here, in your homeland."

Baldr blinked at his statement, shocked at the mixture of sympathy. Baldr was going to die… But, he had his papers. He wondered why the Imperials had not mentioned that once.

"Captain?" Hadvar asked. "What should we do? He's not on the list." He looked to the Captain, hoping and praying she would simply write it off. Hadvar seemed to root for Baldr, and Baldr was grateful for that. But, it didn't work.

"Forget the list. He goes straight to the block."

Baldr had never felt more rage than he did in that moment. They were going to kill him! They were going to kill him, despite his legal papers. He stared at Hadvar then the Captain incredulously, his mouth agape and brows furrowed. They only stared at him, Hadvar at least trying to look piteous. The bastard had the decency to at least look guilty.

"By your orders, Captain. Follow the Captain, prisoner."

Baldr blanched at that. "My name is Baldr. It is not prisoner. Your guilty conscience would do well to remember that! I have papers that allow me entrance to Skyrim! And you and yours would all have me dead!" He paused, looking at the Stormcloaks and then back at Hadvar. "Maybe the Empire should fall."

His fate was sealed. Hadvar's face hardened. Baldr would receive no more sympathy from the soldier. Good. Balder did not want it. He turned away from Hadvar and stood next to Ralof. The blonde Nord shot a smile at Baldr. Baldr was surprised when he smiled back at Ralof. At least he would die with someone good—his true kin.

Then, General Tullius stepped forward. White tendrils of hair falling a few inches above his furrowed brows, the general stepped towards Ulfric with a steely determination. Tullius's eyes were far too small for his face, a nose rivaling Ulfirc's. A scruffy gray and black beard covered his surprisingly strong jaw. He was just as intimidating as Ulfric. Yet, Baldr noticed a ferocity in Ulfric not present in Tullius. The old general seemed to have lost any will to fight. He was tired, but Ulfric was just beginning. Ulfric would be a martyr.

"Ulfric Stormcloak. 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."

Ulfric growled through his gag, the sound soft but menacing nonetheless. His eyes were slitted and enraged. Baldr almost didn't want the gag removed. He didn't know what would happen if the gag was removed. He'd never heard the Voice aloud. Sure his father used to tell him about the Dragonborn and the dragons of old. Baldr was grateful they were gone.

"You started this war, flung Skyrim into chaos! And now the Empire is going to put you down and restore the peace," Tullius continued. Baldr did not buy in to his lie. The Empire couldn't restore peace! They could only win this war through trickery!

There was silence for a moment only broken by a distant rumbling in the air. Hadvar startled at the sound, eyes going wid for a moment. "What was that?" He breathed.

Tullius seemed annoyed at the interruption and shot a furrowed glare at the young soldier. "It's nothing. Carry on."

The female captain stepped forward. "Yes General Tullius!" What a blowhard, Baldr thought. She turned to the priestess of Arkay Baldr hadn't seen before she acknowledged her. "Give them their last right."

"As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Eight Divines upon you-"

"For the love of Talos, shut up and let's get this over with," a red headed Nord shouted from the crowd. Baldr stared at him as he stepped forward. To face his death so bravely… Baldr didn't know if he would be able to face his own death with that bravery.

"… as you wish," the priestess finally conceded. The red headed Nord went to the block, nothing in his expression telling Baldr his emotions save for the budding tears in the young man's eyes. He kneeled down and put his head down, letting off one last quip for the Imperials.

"Come on! I haven't got all morning! My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?"

And then, with a slow arching motion, the executioner's axe sliced down on the soldier's neck. Baldr cringed, the sight of death forcing him to look away. Ralof caught his eyes, having done the same. He nodded at Baldr, blue eyes searching in Baldr's for a glimmer of hope. Baldr wanted to reach out and take Ralof's hand. Already, the blonde Nord showed Baldr far more kindness than the Imperials he'd grown up with. But, he was bound. So, he simply looked at Ralof and nodded stonily.

"… as fearless in death as he was in life," Ralof breathed, smiling despite the thick air of death now surrounding Helgen.

"Death to the Stormcloaks!" Someone screamed, and Baldr searched around for the sound. He scowled. How could they watch this? They were barbarians!

"Next, the smithy from Cyrodiil!"

Baldr went cold. There was another rumble in the air, but Baldr didn't notice. He was going to die… He was going to die. So young. So young.

"There it is again! Did you hear that?"

"I said, next prisoner!"

Baldr looked over at Ralof and then over at Ulfric. The Stormcloak leader nodded at him—a silent apology for the mess Ulfric had put the young man in. Everyone was so resigned to his death! Talos, save me! He pleaded. Divines! But they did not answer. He was going to die alone.

"To the block prisoner. Nice and easy."

Baldr crept forward, unsure of what happened after this. He wasn't sure of anything anymore, especially not this. He moved towards the block, kneeling in front of it. He saw the severed head of the soldier before him, and he felt his stomach churn at the sight. So, he thought of his family in this time of terror.

The Headsman lifted the axe, and he raised it over his head. Baldr clenched his eyes closed, mirroring his fists whose knuckles were whit as snow. But, in that moment, the roar that had only grumbled before pierced the sky with a screech. The earth shook as something landed on the tower. Baldr opened his eyes to see the headsman flat on his back. He looked up as everyone shouted around him.

"What in Oblivion is that?!"

"Sentries, what do you see?"

"It's in the clouds!"

"Dragon!"