It was only noon yet it felt like an eternity when Rohan finally made it out of Helgen. The sun sent sharp beams of light through the thick of the pine and the birds still chirp their song amidst the summer breeze yet it felt like ages that Rohan had felt peace. Was this still the same day? He wondered.

He sat near the brush of a rushing river. His face caked in dirt and clothes ratted and dirty than they were before. Burns had patched on parts of his exposed arms and some other parts of his body, and he endured injury such as a sprain in his knee and arms, and his left hand was starting to swell and throb. Damn shame given that was the hand he prefered to hold a sword.

Rohan did not stir, he only kept staring at his reflection in river his face unmoved yet eyes still showing signs of the shock and fear. It was a miracle he made out of the chaos surely. Into Helgen's main imperial fort where he found some well fitted boots and a steel sword. As much as it was a fight outside with a dragon, it was even more of a fight escaping. Rouge rebels and soldiers all scrapping at anyone who was in his way. Luckily he made it out of the keep, from the lowers ends of the imperial dungeon that lead to a cave outside of Helgen. With the help of his guide of course.

Hadvar finished relieving himself at a tree before getting himself together to wash his hands and face at the river stream. He sees Rohan sitting near the river at the trunk of a tree, still moving or saying anything. "Closes town from here is Riverwood." said Hadvar dousing his face with water. "My uncle's the blacksmith there, he can help us out."

Silence was all Rohan gave. Hadvar could still sense the trauma coming off him, he knows sure he was still feeling the shock. All his comrades either dead or missing, and General Tullius was M.I.A. as was Ulfric, if the bastard made it out or not. Hadvar knew with either of the war's commanding belligerents whereabouts unknown the war was going to take a steep turn for the worse and then there's this damn dragon. Just one giant fucking shitstorm and it was still day time.

Hadvar sighed taking a seat next to Rohan, "Listen." he spoke somberly, "I wouldn't made it out of Helgen without your help."

Rohan was still silent for a minute his eyes staring off into the water, only letting the rushing sound of river keeping to the pace of the eerie quietness. He finally spoke, "Did that just really happened?" Hadvar set the back of his head against the tree, "I still can't believe myself."

Quiet again.

"I have something for you." spoke Hadvar breaking the silence. Rohan turned his head to look to him and watched as Hadvar reached into a small pouch pocket in the back of broken light armor. He pulls out a small obsidian made pendant tied to twine forming a necklace and handed it to him. "I was give this to your kin, if the worse was sentenced to you. I was hoping they'd let you go and figured this was a misunderstanding but you know how that went down…"

Rohan almost couldn't believe the soldier had kept it, he was elated of course. This only he had of Skyrim when he was a boy. He thought the worse that the imperials had trashed it or use this as evidence that he was some stormcloak sympathizer. He wanted to say thank you yet all he did was snatched from Hadvar's hand and placed it around his neck. "I have no kin." was all he said.

Hadvar looked to him with sorrow, he almost felt hurt on how tragic this man seemed."I'm sorry." he said.

Rohan was back staring off into the distance, "You have nothing to be sorry for. And...thank you."

That made Hadvar smile a little but his smile quickly vanishes as he heard stirring in the thrushes of bush a short distance behind him. That made him get to his feet as did Rohan.

"A bear?" Rohan whispered, "Wolves even?"

Hadvar crouched into a stance drawing his sword as his eyes caught the shape of something moving away from them as if in a walk. Rohan caught sight too, squinting eyes for a better vantage when he saw that it was no wild animal but a person.

Average height, firm build and blonde hair, Rohan recognized him immediately. "Ralof!" he shouted.

Ralof stopped in his tracks and turned to see Rohan jogging towards him. "Ha!" he says forming a smile. "You're alive!"

Rohan clasp Ralof's forearm as did Ralof into a shake. "Guess I'm one lucky bastard or most unlucky eh?" said Rohan, they both began to laugh but their laughter was cut short at the sound of a sword unsheathed with Hadvar holding it trained on Ralof as he step towards them.

"Step away from this rebel Rohan." Hadvar said solemnly. Rohan did not budge, only standing in between Ralof and Hadvar's weapon. "Put that away Hadvar, now's not the time!"

Hadvar raised an eyebrow, "Are you sympathizing with him?"

"Milk Drinker." Ralof muttered. He quickly draws his axe and nudge Rohan from his way. "Give me your best strike boot licker!" He snarled.

Hadvar kept his stern glare upon Ralof, "You first you kingslayer lover….."

"RALOF! HADVAR! DAGON'S COCK WILL THE TWO OF YOU CALM THE FUCK DOWN!" Rohan hollered, it was so loud that it stirred the birds perched in the tree overhead of them. His demand was so startling intense that both warrior eased their weapons, slowly lowering them yet still have their cold stares trained on one another.

"Don't you two realize what's happened!? A dragon has appeared in all the ages past to now! Did you not witness the death wrought in front of us did you not see how it devoured and burned from every villager it crossed paths with to even your comrades!" Rohan continued. "Do any of you know what it means!?"

Both Ralof and Hadvar's gaze lowered now they looked to the ground, deep in thought with a paint of shame and despair upon their faces.

"It means this is bigger than this petty political infighting!" Rohan finished, "Who the fuck cares who gets to be High King! Skyrim is fucking doomed! Fuck even Tamriel!"

A silence draws in for the moment, only the sound of birds and the rushing river flow echoes out. "You're right." Ralof finally speaks, somberly. "What we saw…..it's bigger than life itself. So right now I just want to get home to my sister.

"You're welcome to tag along of course." He says looking to Rohan. "But if you don't mind, I'll be keep one eye open at all times." He said that looking Hadvar his eyes in a serious glare. Hadvar only glared back giving off that he was to do the same.

"We'll go to Riverwood." Rohan said, "Together."

The three nords set off down the road, Rohan making sure to stay between the two and keeping the conversating to a minimum.


Deep in forest of Falkreath Hold, a dense encampment of legionary soldiers and small huddles of peasant folk settled themselves in makeshift shelters and small fires. All looked tattered, most covered in black soot, mud, and blood all looking ragged and broken. Able bodies attempt to tend to the injured but only few were to survive most were set to not make it by the end of the day. General Tullius was resting on a hillside, his broken armor stripped to the waist while a soldier tries to tend a wound on Tullius's shoulder while the general sat watching wethered soldiers try to help with what they can and cries from men, women and children. Some looked were scattering about in the hopes of looking for loved ones while other howl in despair as they find their loved ones had already died were set to die by sundown due to wounds sustained.

What madness is this…. His mind dragged on. Tullius had seen the aftermath of battle before, raw atmosphere bleak with despair and lost. It showed on the villager's faces, it showed on his men. How many lives were lost? He looked to his troops and saw this was not his full contingent, not even close to half. As a General in the Imperial Legion he should be mentally ready for this aftermath. During the Great War, when Tullius received his first officer's commission he would see the burned towns and hamlets with broken villagers fleeing in terror. He would witness the loss and mourn in silence. But this was different beyond his realm of understanding.

A dragon?! ….Here…..Now!? His mind screamed. Why of all places….why at that very moment…

"General!" two scouts comes riding in on the few horses the soldiers managed to recover. Tullius did not stir from his seat only waiting for their approach. "Did you find anything, any signs of others?"

One scout spoke first, "No sir, the forest is thick its easy for people to disappear in these woods." Tullius turned his head to face the lad, his glare hard and heavy and unamused from the pathetic excuse the scout was giving him. The scout was almost struck in fear at the general's gaze so he hurried to finish speaking. "But...but we did find something you should take a look at." He takes a small piece of parchment from the other scout to give to the general.

The note was on a ragged piece of straw paper written in faded ink yet was still legible. It read: "Better luck next time"

It had no name onto whom it was from but Tullius was aware of the sender as he crumpled the note in his hand, swearing the gnarliest of profanities.

"What do we do now sir?" asked a soldier.

Tullius was short on breath from his outburst yet still managed to speak, "We...get these folk to Falkreath. Then continue to Markarth where we will then march on back to post at Solitude."

"We've still got men missing sir!" another soldier protested. Tullius only glared at him, "If they're missing they're dead."

The sound of horses neighing in distance cause the general and his man to look onto the direction where an altmer women and a small contingent of elven soldiers came approaching on horseback.

"Great, this is what I need." Tullius mumbled stepping out from his group to meet Elenwen. "General Tullius." beamed the thalmor women in her ever so irritating haughty tone. "My, you look worse for wear, even for your kind." she said stopping her horse.

"I've had worse days." Tullius replied passively. Funny how they suddenly arrive. Tullius pondered. They left shortly before the dragon attacked...did they have something to do with it.

Elenwen kept gold icy stare into Tullius with her eerie sneer, "Quite." she speaks. "I had heard there was sort of attack happening at your outpost in Helgen while I was in Falkreath."

"You were in Falkreath? What for?" Tullius cutted in.

"Speaking with at the imperial station there, filing a complaint." she said with an ever so sneering smile. Tullius let out a small but hot huff from his nose, the expression itself pleased the eleven woman. "I had brought troops to see if you are in need of assistance." she continued, "Believing that dreadful Ulfric Stormcloak had sprung a trap for you ilk managing a counter offensive."

Tullius was silence as were the other imperial soldiers. Elenwen caught that, "Where is the rebel may I ask?"

Tullius still silent trying to find words, "He's…" he began, "I do not know."

"He's escaped, isn't he?" Elenwen cutted in.

The silence from the general made Elenwen laughed as if she was in pure satisfaction. Her laughter even cause some her troops to chuckle as well. Hatred bored into Tullius's gut he hated the sight of these damn high elven bastards getting happy off his expense. The expense of himself and his men. "We don't know if he's even alive." said Tullius trying to deter the topic.

"Oh he's alive, I'm sure." said Elenwen, "That of course could've been avoided but you humans are oh so difficult." She says somberly.

Tullius took one step forward, hands gnarled into a fist, "He is an enemy to the Empire not a fugitive to the Aldmeri Dominion!"

"He is an enemy to the peace! General." Elenwen spat back. "I'm starting to think you don't fully comprehend the matter of danger Ulfric Stormcloak is."

"He became less of danger after today." Tullius his eyes to the ground. Elenwen perked an eyebrow at the general's words. "What are you saying?" she asked.

Tullius rose his head to glare back at her. "You came here from Falkreath thinking it was the rebels springing a rescue? No. It was dragon that attacked."

A distraught look of bewilderment pursed Elenwen's face, "Don't be ridiculous!" she said. "Dragon haven't been around since the past age! Longer than that even!"

She looked genuinely confused, Tullius caught, maybe these elves truly did not have nothing to do with it but it was possibility he wasn't yet going to rule out. "Oh it's true. Looked to the peasants there." Tullius pointed to broken villagers that huddled close to themselves, "Could

rebels truly did the horror that's painted their faces!?" This time Elenwen was lost words.

"I know what I saw." Tullius said.

"This is a matter for a thorough investigation, but I'll keep my implications and opinions to myself." She the latter she stated was something Tullius agreed on. "What's next for you general?"

"I am to take these folk to safety then I'll gather the rest of men and we'll head for Solitude."

"I shall join you of course, you'll need all the support you can get as it seems the like."

Tullius had no energy to protest even if he wanted, he said nothing to Elenwen and got on one of the surviving horses, giving orders to his men to get the villagers moving before sundown sets in.


Far off on a cliffside overlooking the imperial army, Thalmor and Helgen survivors was a girl. A nord child who lived with her father in a hunting hut nearby deep in the woods. She looked on hidden from sight but close enough to hear the conversation. Realizing there was no more she could gather from them as they were about to leave, the girl herself gets up to leave. Scurrying away deep in the forest.

She knew the path to take, over a small creek pass the den where a saber lived on to which she was quick enough for the cat to even notice. Her direction was swift and concrete that coming years of training and living in the woods.

She finally stops coming to an open cave. A bear lived there once but her father had caught, killed and it now lived in her and her father's hut hanging as a pelt. Now it was occupied by something else. Something else to whom they were keeping a small fire to.

Ulfric sat at the fire his eyes staring deep into the flames. The blaze reminding him of the homes and charred bodies that were dancing upon. The bodies of the villagers, the bodies of his comrades. The few surviving stormcloaks were all here with him exhausted and some already on the cave floor sleeping. One stormcloak picking at a wound that was wrapped in makeshift bandages. "Don't mess with it." Ulfric said, "When we get to Windhelm we'll have someone look at it."

Ulfric then spots the girl enter the cave and approach him, he seemed happy for hope of news. "Well?" he asked.

"They found your note but the general won't go after you." she says, "He's taking them villagers to Falkreath with some elves then he said he's going to Solitude."

"Looking after the simple folk." Ulfric said, "Tullius surprises me everyday. You said elves were with him?"

The nods her head, "Mmmhmm. Many of them was wearing that gold armor and one was dressed in all black."

"Thalmor." said one stormcloak.

"Good, then that means they off our trail and we can make break for Windhelm." said Ulfric getting to his feet.

"You sure we can evade them?" said another stormcloak.

"We know this land they do not, and it's not the Thalmor or the imperials I'm concerned for finding me out here in the open." he said, his mind still on the dragon.

"What do you mean?" asked the little girl. Ulfric looked to her, "Tell your father to get you behind some city walls. Skyrim's countryside isn't safe."

The girl nods. "I will, my father still won't believe I've met Ulfric Stormcloak and that I'm helping you." she says, "He said you're going to bring the old ways back to Skyrim, the way nords should live."

Ulfric smiles, "Talos willing." he says, he then hands the girl a tiny pendant of a bear. An old jarl's sigil, used in the old days to carry authority within the Holds, now it was used as simple decorative clothing. "Give this to your father, he'll believe you and make sure you tell him what I said."


Alvor sat in deep thought as he watched the two men feverishly scarf down the beef stew his wife had just made. His attention wasn't mainly on his nephew Hadvar but solely on the stranger on whom Hadvar brought with. Alvor noticed rare Talos pendant dangling from the man's neck. "So…" Alvor began, "Hadvar says you're from the south?"

Rohan nods his head finishing chewing on the bread dipped in stew, "Aye sir." he says between bites, "Grew up in Chorrol, was born here in Skyrim though."

"Got any family here?"

Rohan shakes his head, "Not that I know of."

"I met him in Helgen." Hadvar spoke, "Merchant guard." Figuring that was a fitting story than he's really some prisoner condemned to the axe and I'm really having some conflict of conscience moment kind of story. Rohan played along. "Yeah, merchant guard, working for some dunmer fella. Was gonna go to Morrowind till that dragon came along." He chuckles sheepishly.

Alvor snorted showing little care in Rohan's matter which was satisfying to both men to say the least.

"You two can stay here for the time being." said Alvor.

"I won't be here long sir, I'll keep out of your way." said Rohan. Alvor put up a hand shaking his head, "Nonsense, you're a newcomer and you need to get back on your feet. Take as much time as you need."

"Thank you sir." said Rohan, "And as I said, I won't be long."

"Thank you uncle." said Hadvar, "I knew you'd come through."

Alvor let out a heavy sigh, "With things going on here lad all me and your aunt can do is show the world some kindness. This damn war is taking its toll on everyone and now talk of dragons!? End times surely."

"Forgive me asking but isn't a war profitable for a blacksmith?" Rohan asked.

"This is a worse kind of war!" Alvor replied offended. "Civil War! Blade against kinsmen why should I take pride in profiting that!?"

Rohan adverted his eyes to his lap in shame, "Forgive me asking sir, I didn't mean to make you angry."

"I'm not angry at you, I'm angry at that damn jarl!" Alvor slammed his meaty fist on the table, "Ulfric Stormcloak and his band of merrymen….pah!" he spat, "Just a bunch of puffed up haughty fools going to doom all of Skyrim with their false posturing!"

"But the war has been good on production right uncle?" Hadvar asked.

"You two still think I'm making coin from this? Jarl Balgruuf made it perfectly clear no one is to support either side within his hold. Every sword I forge goes straight to his guard compliment and only his guards."

"Balgruuf can't stay outta of the fight too long however." spoke Sigrid, Alvor's wife as she came into the room with a bowl of fresh apples. She places it on the table to serve as their dessert. Rohan nods a thank you and takes one for a bite.

"And besides not everyone in Whiterun Hold follows the Jarl's proclamation." She continued.

"Quiet woman!" Alvor says not wanting his wife to babble her gossip.

"How many young'uns who just barely learns to carry a sword scurries off to Eastmarch by the day Alvor? And we all know Gerdur is sending half her lumber to Windhelm!"

"I said shush dammit!" Alvor snapped. "We will not discuss anymore of this!"

The room was quiet for a moment until Alvor let out another sigh, "It's been a long day for you two. You should probably get some rest.