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Helgen was falling apart. Buildings collapsing in fire and panic, crumbling and destroying the homes of innocent people.
The roar of the dragon was as blood curdling as it’s accompanying screams.
Ralof was herding the townspeople towards safety, away from the crashing rubble and debris. One arm covering his face as he gently pushed the back of an elderly woman towards her family. He choked back on the smoke hitting his lungs as he entered the keep. He needed to join up with his comrades before it was too late.
The thick stone of the keep drowned out the noise almost entirely, leaving Ralof to stand in the quiet room alone. There was a body in the corner. Upon closer inspection, he let out a short breath and closed Gunjar’s eyes. “May you find peace in Sovngarde, brother.”
Gunjar was a good man. Fought proudly for his country. “Gods.” Ralof sighed, rubbing a hand down his face to get himself together. He stood and approached the door closest to him, grabbing the bars and pulling. It rattled in it’s stone case, but didn’t move. Locked. Of course. He tested the other one, the rising portcullis and groaned. It opened from the other side. Frustrated, he spun on his feet and ran a hand through his hair as he ran through too many thoughts at once. His fingers caught on tangled knots.He had no idea where Ulfric was, or the others he arrived with. No time for that. He needed to get out of this place and to Riverwood. To warn his sister and make sure she was safe. Damned dragon.
But he couldn’t get out of this keep without a key. If he left now, he’d be cut down by soldiers or devoured by the dragon before even reaching the gates.
The walls surrounding him shook with a force powerful enough to worry Ralof, eyes shooting up to the stone ceiling as small bits of rubble shot down. And then silence. Like nothing had happened.
“Ralof! You damned traitor!”
Hadvar’s voice cut through the silence, hitting his ears like ice water on his back. He spun, grabbing his axe in defense. Hadvar was alone - on the other side of the keep’s gate - with his blade drawn. Steel still clean and bright. He couldn’t tell if that brought him comfort.
“Someone needs to warn Riverwood of the dragon, Hadvar! You’re not going to stop me from escaping this time.” His voice almost locked up at the sight of the man. Once his friend, now his enemy. How had it come to that? Childhood friends, as thick as thieves, torn apart like Skyrim herself. His fingers instinctively gripped the handle of his axe the same way the vice around his heart did; and something in him softened, seeing Hadvar through the metal. Despite everything separating them, he still saw the same boy that he befriended years ago. “Come with me.”
He couldn’t tell if it was the remains of smoke still stinging his eyes or if the Imperial actually hesitated with his options. But knowing Hadvar? He hesitated. His loyalty was his greatest trait. Whether it was to the Empire or to his friend, though? That was the question.
Hadvar dropped his shoulders with a sharp huff through his nose.
“Fine.” He sheathed his sword and yanked the chain to open the gate. Ralof wanted to soothe his anxieties and wrap an arm around Hadvar; just like he used to, with the two of them walking back from some half-planned adventure, laughing over awful jokes and fresh bruises. But they were different now. Changed. This war had changed everything. He still allowed himself a meager smile, looking more like he was in pain than anything close to joy. It didn’t reach his eyes.
But now Hadvar was approaching Ralof much like you would a wild animal. Or perhaps a wounded one. He’d watched him do that once at seventeen, trying to coax his aunt Sigurd down from righteous fury after tracking mud into her home. Ralof had given him shit for it for weeks. Maybe he hadn’t changed entirely.
And brushed by him once it was obvious Ralof wouldn’t cut him down, pulling a key to the locked door from somewhere. Where was he keeping that? Did those uniforms even have pockets? Ralof couldn’t see any.
A fresh scar running down his forearm stopped him, grabbing Hadvar by the wrist before he could even think about what a bad idea that was. The Imperial wrenched back, left hand hovering over his sword in panic. Ralof let go in the process, taking a step back and raising his hands up in defense.
“What are you doing?” There was no venom behind his question, no alarm like he’d been worried Ralof would have tried something. He hadn’t even pulled far back. Ralof hoped it was trust that did it.
“Sorry! I thought-” He caught himself in his defense, hands lowering. “..Nevermind.” Ralof averted his gaze for just a second, not wanting to meet Hadvar’s stare. Seeing foreign scars on him shouldn’t have hit something in him like it had.
There was a heavy silence between them.
Ralof moved first, grabbing the key from Hadvar’s clenched hand with ease, the Imperial’s fingers falling open easy at Ralof’s light touch. His heart squeezed. “Let’s get going.”
They moved down into the keep in relative silence. Too many things that neither of them wanted to say.
Hadvar kept glancing at him. And when Ralof would look back, he’d pointedly turn his head somewhere else like he hadn’t been caught staring. The nord snorted, reading him too well. “What is it?”
Hadvar made an aborted noise in the back of his throat, like he hadn’t expected to be caught. He caught himself in a stumble, mouth pulling into a thin like from what Ralof assumed was embarrassment. If he looked close enough, he could see his ears were turning red. “I wanted to tell you--”
The ceiling collapsed in front of them. Heavy stones from the ceiling began cascading down. Hadvar throwing an arm in front of Ralof as they both stumbled to keep their balance, arms raised to shield themselves from the rubble. Ribbons of light peered in, as did clashing of metal, however muted.
Ralof coughed back dust, staring at the giant wall now blocking their original path. “Well, looks like we’ll have to find another way out.”
“This way.” Hadvar was already through a door on the left Ralof hadn’t spotted. He rolled his eyes and followed him, close on his heels.
The room they entered was empty of life, filled with nothing but provisions and weapons for the Imperials stationed in Helgen.
“Good, we can gather some supplies. See if there's any potions.” Hadvar instructed. That threw Ralof off few a moment, staring at the back of Hadvar’s head like he suddenly sprouted horns.
“There is a dragon right above us about to crush us all into Oblivion and you want to stop for supplies?”
Hadvar had paused, standing a few paces ahead of him and turned, looking at Ralof with that look of his. “There might be potions around. We’re going to need them if we encounter anyone else.”
Gods .
“The faster we hurry and get out here, then we won’t need them, Hadvar.” Ralof itched to cross his arms in defiance. The Imperial almost matched his movements, his stubbornness bubbling to the front. He could see it in the subtle way his brow twitched.
“We need to be prepared. You used to say that, didn’t you?”
Ralof squinted before sighing his defeat. “Fine.”
And turned tail towards shelves stacked with miscellaneous equipment.
He swiped a bottle off one of the shelves, uncorking it and sniffing. He wrinkled his nose, placing it back on the shelf. Mead. Striding on over to the door, he scanned items strewn around the room while he leant against the wooden beam of a barrel rack. Sturdy. Must be from Hod’s mill, Ralof thought proudly. Glancing over to Hadvar, he bit his cheek as the Imperial rummaged through the barrels. He came back up with a forlorn look on his face. A cabbage dropped onto the ground in disappointment.
They looked at each other for a moment.
Ralof shoved the door open before he thought of anything.
The sound of distant fighting spurred them into action, running down more stairs only to come face to face with a shot of sparks. Two Imperials and two Stormcloaks. One of the Imperials was dead. Hadvar stepped forward. Ralof stopped him with an outstretched arm, pulling them back into the soldiers’ blind spot. “Let me handle this.”
Ralof came forward and struck down the remaining soldier, much to the surprise of his comrades. One of them - a man - was bleeding heavily, magic searing the entirety of his arm.
“Thanks for your help.” The woman - Edla, Ralof remembered, the red hair a reminder - said.
Steps sounded behind him, and their faces twisted, grabbing their weapons. Hadvar had stepped out.
“Wait! He’s with us!” Ralof warned, stepping towards Hadvar.
“What?”
By the Nine, Ralof wanted to punch him. He glanced back at the fool behind him, giving Hadvar a look that translated to ‘Just go with it!’. It took years to cultivate, and Hadvar knew it well.
“Yes! Yes. I’m with you.” There we go . The two Stormcloaks exchanged wary looks to each other, then at Ralof.
“You’re betraying the Empire? In support of Ulfric?” That was the man, Hrodir, a hand still tightly wound around his burnt arm. His fingers spasmed for a few seconds.
Before Hadvar even had the chance to speak, Ralof beat him to the punch. They were not about to broach the subject of “Well.. actually.. .” right now and bring on a fight. Instead, he asked the question still lingering in the back of his mind. “Was he with you? Jarl Ulfric?”
As if on some strange, unknown cue, the Keep rattled again from the outside battle. This far down, it wasn’t quite noticeable aside from the slight shake of wooden beams and fall of dust. That wasn’t going to last long.
Edla shook her head while Hrodir winced in pain. “We haven’t seen him since the dragon appeared.”
Ralof cursed, and Hadvar finally shouldered past him and the two Stormcloaks towards the exit, gaining their attention. “We need to leave before this whole place collapses from that dragon. Warn the cities about future attacks.”
Ralof agreed. “You’re right.” And followed Hadvar, turning back to Edla and Hrodir. “Are you coming?”
“We’ll wait here in case Ulfric shows. You go on ahead.” Edla spoke, briefly looking at Hadvar again as she touched Hrodir’s arm, assessing the damage. Distrust was heavy in her eyes.
The two nodded and ventured on. The halls they passed made the hairs on Hadvar’s neck raise, the skeletons rotting in cages. The thought of bony hands reaching out and grabbing him put him a little on edge. The brush of skin against his arm did little to quell his anxieties, not with Ralof trying to fight back an obvious grin. He knew, and he thought it was funny .
“Shut up.” He grumbled.
“I haven’t said anything.” Ralof quipped back.
“You were thinking it.”
“You’re right. I was.”
Ralof bumped his shoulder, Hadvar huffed in retort.
Their little moment was cut short upon entering a cave. Immediately slammed with the sight of arrows flying and blood splattering against dirt and stone. Stormcloaks against Imperials.
Instinct and adrenaline took over thought, the two men throwing themselves into the fight like it was second nature. Ralof with his axe and Hadvar with his sword.
It was like a dance they fell in tandem to. Fighting alongside each other.
Ralof ducked an arrow and threw his axe at the archer, wrenching the longbow free of the dying Imperial’s grasp to aim his own shot into the head of an approaching swordsman.
Hadvar was close, striking down a Stormcloak and staining blue cloth deep with red. He tried to hold back from stopping a fellow Imperial too close to Ralof, knocking him down in staged accident rather than cut him down entirely. He‘d sworn loyalty to the Empire, but he couldn’t let his friend die either. Uniforms began to blur as it continued, bodies slowly separating the two onto opposite sides of the cave. From where Hadvar fought on the lower level, he could see Ralof lodge the curved edge of his axe into a man’s shoulder. The soldier screamed, but the sound was muted as Ralof placed a hand on his other shoulder and yanked the weapon out, leaving the man to drop into a curling form of agony and fought on. They caught eyes, and Hadvar saw a grin curl onto his face.
A beat passed, and Ralof was just standing there with that smile on his face, catching his breath from the action around them. The fighting was beginning to subside.
Hadvar dodged a swing from a sword and knocked the offending woman down, flashing his own smile at Ralof.
Until it fell, his heart dropped to his feet. “Ralof! Move!”
Too late. A sword pierced through his stomach, shining in fire light with fresh blood. Hadvar felt something in him break. He pushed through fighting soldiers, running for the Nord now collapsed on the dirt. The Imperial that’d stabbed him was gone, occupied with killing the few remaining Stormcloaks rather than finish off the one now bleeding out.
He was within arms length. He reached to grab at Ralof, pull him up and back to a stand. When he was crashed into by another soldier, the momentum throwing him to the ground. He groaned, the wind knocked out of him. And then he screamed. Pain shot through his chest.
When he looked down - or up - he saw the steel of a sword. Settled right underneath his ribs and then forcefully ripped downwards then back out. He couldn’t tell if they were Stormcloak or Imperial. Only that Ralof was right there , reaching for him. Hadvar reached back, awaiting the final blow.
And then a blessing.
The soldier above him stumbled, tripping over Hadvar’s leg and crashed to the ground. Two figures stepped over Hadvar and Ralof, fighting off their attackers. Defending them.
Red hair entered his vision, and then a familiar face. “Come on, we need to get you both out of here.”
He was dragged back onto his feet, and would’ve doubled over from the pain if Edla hadn’t been there to catch him. A strong arm looped itself around his back, the other supporting his own over her shoulder. Hadvar almost forgot he was stabbed entirely, too busy looking back to look at Ralof. Hrodir had him, dyed cloth now wrapped around the burns. Ralof had a hand clutching into his wound, blood spilling between his fingers as they all rushed to their escape.
Thank the Gods he was alright.
An arrow pierced his back, and then his leg, sending Hadvar crashing. Falling like a cut marionette. Edla almost went with him, hold slipping on his arm as her saving grace.
“Hadvar!”
He pushed himself back up onto his knees, biting down at the pain. Edla manhandled him back into a stand and threw herself to hold him again. Hrodir had turned and sent an arrow back at their assailant. When Hadvar looked back, he found everyone was dead. Just them left. He shook on unsteady legs.
“You’re alright. You’re fine. The arrow didn’t go too far in.” Hrodir explained, pulling the iron head out of his skin. His lip split from biting down too hard.
“Yes. Your armour stopped the hit.” Sounded Edla.
“And my leg?”
“... Sit down.”
He prayed to whichever of the Eight were present during this chaos. So he leant instead, bracing against a small ledge to catch him if he fell. And looked at Ralof. Hrodir was tearing at his sash, wrapping blue cloth around his middle to stem his bleeding.
Edla did the same to Hadvar, then crouched to his leg, assessed the angle of the arrow and pulled.
“Fuck!” White hot pain seared up his entire leg.
“It’s out! It’s fine! Can you walk?”
He stared at the woman, copying the wary look she had given him prior, then tested his leg. If he favored his other leg, he could be stable. So he nodded. “Yeah, yeah I can walk.”
Edla was already dragging Hadvar back to his feet, allowing him to use her arms as braces to steady himself.
“Okay. We need to get out of here, fast.”
“What of Ulfric?” Ralof spoke up.
“He never showed. We’re assuming he got out some other way and is returning to Winterhold as we speak. We have to go.”
They made fast time through the cave, no other enemies to be seen. More tremors rocked through the cave as they traversed further. Eventually they came across a fork in their path.
Hadvar stumbled on wet rocks and fell onto a knee. Ralof grabbed his arm and hauled him back up. “Are you alright?”
Hadvar almost fell again. Something was wrong. “I’m losing feeling in my leg.”
Edla spun around from ahead, Hrodir following at her heels. “What?”
Ralof kept his grip on Hadvar’s arm, keeping him steady. “A paralysis arrow. They must’ve poisoned it.”
“Right. Then we need to move fast before it gets worse. Get somewhere safe and get the antidote.” Said Edla.
“There’s a village not far from Helgen. Riverwood. We’re from there. They’ll have an antidote.” Ralof suggested, only Hadvar sensing the worry growing in his voice. There wasn’t much time to waste before everything was too late. The dragon. Their injuries. This was absolute chaos.
The two other Stormcloaks agreed on the plan, all four of them navigating through the cave. Edla and Hrodir took charge in the spider’s nest, Ralof and Hadvar assisting from the back and nursing their injuries. And Ralof panicking over his fear of spiders.
They stepped over web and dead arachnids, Ralof cringing when he stopped on a leg by mistake. “Ugh, spiders..”
“And you tease me for the undead.”
“Spiders are vile.”
They passed by easily and entered a large expanse of the cave when Ralof blanched, tripping into a boulder. The blue covering his wounds were almost entirely red, and his fingers looked blue.
“Ralof, stop! You’re killing yourself.” Hadvar warned, easing the Nord down to sit in a dry alcove against the cave’s walls.
“Is he going to make it?” Hrodir asked. Hadvar heard Edla punch him quiet. And the Imperial too, sat down when the numbness hit.
“You two go on ahead. We’ll catch up later after we rest.” Ralof said, exchanging looks with Hadvar. The Imperial held a hand against his chest, ignoring the slick of blood coat his hand.
“Are you sure?” Edla pressed, the woman’s face taut with worry. Most likely for her fallen brother, Ralof, more so than Hadvar. Even if he was a supposed “Empire Traitor” thanks to Ralof.
“Please. Go to Riverwood. Find my uncle, Alvor. The Blacksmith.”
“And my sister, Gerdur. Warn them of the dragon. They need aid from Whiterun. Tell them we sent you.”
“Please.” Hadvar begged.
Hrodir agreed first, touching Edla’s arm in what Hadvar assumed was a plea. “The faster we get to Riverwood, the faster we can come back with an antidote. And healing potions. They’ll be fine.”
“Alright. We’ll be back. Stay here!”
“Of course.” They chimed in unison. Where else could we go, Hadvar thought. Ralof gave him a look, as if he had the same thought. He tried hard to fight back an untimely smirk.
“Divines bless you both.” Edla looked at them with a fierce look in her eyes, then turned and followed Hrodir out of the cave.
Minutes passed in silence, and Hadvar grew stuck in his own head. He struggled to stretch his leg again. His heart was tight in his chest. And Ralof was beside him. Ralof. Who he watched get stabbed. Who he couldn’t save. Who was dying .
‘If I’d just been faster.. If I reached you faster..’
“Hadvar.”
He can barely hear Ralof’s voice above us own rampant thoughts, worry overtaking his pain as he tried to move back onto his feet. His breath quickened. He couldn’t feel either of his legs.
More sternly, “ Hadvar”.
It cut him off entirely. He stared back into his friend’s eyes, Ralof steeled his expression to hide how much he was hurting. But Hadvar could see right through him.
“What?” His voice came out quieter. Lost. Afraid .
“Breathe.”
Hadvar did what he said, choking around the words stuck in his throat and took shaky breaths. His free hand cradling his head. Ralof’s hand found his arm, gripping him tightly in comfort. For both of them, really.
“Breathe.. Good. That's good.”
He couldn’t meet his eyes. So he squeezed them shut instead.
“I just.. I can’t sit here while- You can’t die, Ralof. Not like this.”
Calloused fingers brushed down his arm and held his wrist, gently pulling his hand away to hold. The other was tight on his shoulder.
He heard the dirt underneath them shift. Hadvar opened his eyes to see Ralof had moved closer, sliding along the cave wall and turned to better face him. The blue sash tied around his stomach was slowly staining red.
“If I’m to die here today, then I’m glad that it’ll be with you by my side.” Ralof confessed, tightening his grip on Hadvar’s hand.
The Imperial was silent, studying Ralof’s face like it’d give him the words he was forgetting. He was memorising it. More so than he had before they’d split onto different paths.
Ralof slumped back, pressing a shoulder into the wall and staring up into the root covered ceiling. And he sighed. “This war is madness. So many lives destroyed. Families broken. Friends.. lost.”
Hadvar watched the guard drop, thoughtful pain freely showing across Ralof’s face.
“We used to be friends.”
It felt like an arrow pierced Hadvar’s heart. Best friends.
He swallowed back the words he wanted to say, replacing it with the gentle brush of his thumb along the Nord’s knuckles.
Their hands were still intertwined.
“I thought about you.” He started, almost a whisper in the dark of the cave. “Every night; after I left to join the Empire. I was angry that you sided with Ulfric. Terrified that I’d have to fight against you one day. Or that I’d never see you again. That hurt the most.”
He heard Ralof make a soft noise; an agreement.
“And seeing you today, it… It was like feeling everything at once. You were supposed to be a traitor. Another faceless person to be executed. But you were my friend.” He caught the crack before it had the chance to bubble up past his throat, using his free hand to push himself back up the wall from where he was slipping. His hand came back sticky and red. His waist was numb.
He spared a look at Ralof, staring at his own feet. In the shadow of the cave’s divot, and the angle of his head, Hadvar could barely make out the little smile on the blond man’s face.
“You know, I don’t blame you.” Came his raspy voice. "I felt the same."
It was silent then. For a while. Nothing but the two of them in that little alcove of safety. Just quiet breathing, the occasional sharp intake of breath and a poorly masked cough. It was Hadvar’s turn, a cough turning into a pained gasp; almost coming out more as a groan when his movement shot through his spine up into his chest. And then silent again. Hadvar's mind began to wander, drifting to thoughts he buried away to never think about. They would hurt too much.
“Hey..”
“Hmm?”
“Do you remember the time we stole Gerdur’s rabbit and hid it that old witch’s cabin?”
Ralof snorted and shook his head, followed by a breathy laugh. “She was a wretch.”
“She was.” Hadvar agreed.
Ralof tilted his head to look at Hadvar again. “I think your uncle hated me.”
Hadver frowned, not recalling Alvor showing any ill will towards his friend. “No.. did he?”
“Oh yeah. Always stealing away his young impressionable nephew, shirking forge duties to go adventuring . There was one time, after we tried going into the Barrow,”
“I remember. You cried because of the spiders.”
Ralof squeezed his hand in disagreement. “I did not cry. His eyes said otherwise. "But after we came back, when you were inside the house; He said to me, ‘I don’t approve of your antics. Hadvar’s a fine lad and ‘s got a good head on his shoulders. He should be working here, learning to be a blacksmith instead of running off fighting bandits and the like, like you do.’ - I didn’t remind him of the Giant - ‘But I can see he likes you. You’re a good friend to him. So just keep him safe.’” Ralof paused, sighing. “And I promised him I would… I guess I’ve broken that now, ey?”
And he lifted their hands, brushing his lips against marred knuckles in an unspoken confession. Scars from the forge now overtaken by those of battle.
Hadvar was at a loss. Perhaps it was the blood loss. But he just stared into Ralof’s eyes.
Those blue eyes, as deep and beautiful as the river back in their little village. Gleaming with all their secrets. Those eyes could make him do anything.
So he leaned in, as best to his capability, placing a hand to the Nord’s cheek and kissed him. It was short, but it was everything. They touched their foreheads together, his hand falling to Ralof’s neck.
“I had to kiss you at least once before I die. Otherwise it wouldn’t have been living.” Hadvar whispered, focusing entirely on the grip on his hand.
Ralof huffed a laugh. “How long?”
“Years.”
He hummed, weakly smiling. "Years.."
And then he closed his eyes. Hadvar could feel him frown.
“It’s cruel. For our first kiss to also be our goodbye.”
Hadvar forced a soft laugh. “We must be cursed…”
“Damned.”
He hummed his own agreement, almost laughing, his hand falling to join it’s pair with Ralof’s. Perhaps they were damned for this to be their fate. He squeezed with the last remainder of his strength, his own eyes falling shut.
“Perhaps we'll meet again, in another life..." A sigh. "I’m tired, Hadvar.”
"Get some rest, friend."
Hadvar waited until he felt Ralof relax, listening to his stuttered breathing even out in sleep. Before it too claimed him, he opened his eyes one last time to look at the Nord's face.
“Talos guide you, Ralof.”
Ralof died of his injuries in his sleep soon after.
Hadvar stayed with him until he too followed. He never let go.