Chapter Text
Gods, he was a fool. Why did he follow the asshole that was partly responsible for where he ended up he wasn’t sure. Did the roar of the dragon rattle more of his brains out than he previously anticipated? He didn’t know anymore.
Here he was now, listening to the soldier babble nonsense about his legion, while leading him down to the nearby village. Of course, he was grateful that Hadvar hadn’t left him to die, but that didn’t change anything about how he felt about him at all. He chose to keep quiet at least until they reached the town the boy had mentioned, and then he’d get as far away as he could from this place. He just needed to keep things… civil until then.
“See that ruin up there?” Hadvar’s voice managed to cut through Vivild’s attention like a sharpened dagger, the breton squinting up at the stone construction in the far distance. “Bleak Falls Barrow. When I was a boy, that place always used to give me nightmares. Draugr creeping down the mountain to climb through my window at night, that kind of thing. I admit, I still don't much like the look of it.”
He kept quiet as the boy prattled on, biting his tongue on the retort he wanted to drop on him. Great. He was deer-hearted as well as annoying. What kind of ... milk-drinkers were these imperial lot anyway?
He followed along, gaze only darting around whenever he heard the undergrowth move. He watched a rabbit hop out and run past them, which should have been relieving but it wasn’t. Because even then that didn’t stop him from feeling wary, expecting a soldier or a bandit or… something to jump them from behind and to find himself bound once again. He massaged at the burns on his wrists still, wincing silently at the way they itched and stung under his touch.
“Listen, you should go to Solitude and join up with the Imperial Legion.” Hadvar spoke up again, Vivild’s mouth curling into a snarl. Gods, could he just shut up- “We could really use someone like you. And if the rebels have themselves a dragon, General Tullius is the only one who can stop them.”
“Yeah?!” Vivild asked, venom seeping into his tone. “You really think I should be joining the legion after all of that?”
“Of course!” Hadvar exclaimed, rubbing at the back of his head with a bit of a grimace. “Look, I know, today wasn't the best introduction to the Legion, but I hope you'll give us another chance. The Legion could really use someone like you, especially now with that dragon about.”
Oh, this guy was either acting stupid or was just this oblivious. And Vivild couldn’t take it anymore.
“A chance?!” He snapped, watching the sheepish smile start to fade on Hadvar’s face. “None of you could grace me with that, before putting my head to the damn chopping block!!!”
“I led you out of Helgen-”
“Perhaps, but that doesn’t take away the fact that your general ordered my execution! Pray tell, why would you think I should join his cause after that?!” Vivild’s hand curled into a fist, all desires to keep things civil flying out the window. He scoffed. “What in Lorkhan’s name has that man done for me that he’d deserve my help?! I was going to DIE at your hands and he’d have thought nothing of it, ‘f it weren’t for that winged beast sent from– gods know where!!”
“Then why did you decide to follow me into the keep?”
“Because I wasn’t sure what else to do back there!! I just didn’t want to die!!” His ears were ringing by then and his chest heaving from the shouting. And the red-coated s’wit still stood by with his expression knitted downwards and looking almost shameful.
“I don't blame you for being angry about it. I would be, too, in your shoes.” Hadvar admitted, now much more quietly and more sincerely than how he seemed until now. “But it was all a mistake. You weren't supposed to be on that cart with those Stormcloak traitors.”
Vivild couldn’t help but laugh harshly at that.“Well, thanks for that!! Really helpful! Why the hell did I end up with them then?! Why was I getting executed at Helgen?!” The breton breathed in deeply, eyes closing shut as he turned his glare up at the trees they had passed instead, watching a small flock of birds fly away as he felt the last embers of anger diminish.
What the hell was he doing? It wasn’t like the soldier was directly responsible for this? He sighed, as he let his shoulders fall, only turning back once he was sure he was calm enough to face the nord without outburst. “I’m sorry, it’s just—”
“No, I get it.” The soldier waved his hand, “It can’t be easy to go from being nearly executed to being asked to join the very ones that ordered it.”
Vivild fell quiet watching the boy almost warily. He was nice. Too nice. Way too sympathetic to his plight for his liking. It felt more like a trap to him, A means of getting him comfortable and then springing the binds back on the moment he let his guard down. But at the same time the boy didn’t seem……capable of such a thing. Just from how he spoke, he felt too genuine. Too… soft. Too… unguarded. Open, yes.
Still, Vivild kept his own guard up as he stepped a little closer, still far enough to jump back should the soldier change his mind and attack, but at least close enough to bridge the distance even just a little, one hand clasping tightly around the burns on his wrist.
“Thank you, though. For not leaving me to the jaws of the dragon.” Vivild muttered, still barely looking up at the soldier.
“It was the least I could do after that, hm?” Hadvar shrugged. “Besides. I should be thanking you as well. You could have abandoned me after what had transpired back there, and I wouldn’t have faulted you. But you didn’t. I wouldn’t have gotten out of there without your help today.”
“Well it’s not like you were the one ordering them to lob my head off.” Vivild shrugged absently, still choosing to keep his gaze trained ahead.
“I suppose not.” He heard Hadvar huff, before adding a quiet: “Kind of wish the captain was a little more courteous back there.”
Vivild huffed. “Makes you wanna thank the dragon it showed up when it did, huh?” He looked up with a smirk on hearing the young soldier stutter, watching his expression flit from panic to something more pained.
“Well when you say it like that—We could have done with a little less destruction, and rebel escapees.”
“And death?” the breton added.
“And death.” Hadvar concluded with a sigh, gaze growing distant as he gripped at where the older man had haphazardly wrapped the man’s arm. Vivild couldn’t help but wonder what could be going through his mind. Whether it was worry of who had gotten out… or of that little boy he had witnessed lose a father right before their very eyes…. Or maybe even that soldier of the opposing side, whose name he couldn’t quite remember any longer, where the tension seemed to stretch beyond general hatred. Hm…
“Come on, Riverwood is not far now.” The imperial soldier took to walking ahead, far quicker now than before and Vivild soon fell into step next to him. He had to admit that the quiet was at least nice. Made the man feel less… nervous since the moment they had gotten out of the cave. He was still on high alert, but at least it didn’t feel like anything was out to get him at any given moment.
He soon realised how fast he was walking, fast enough that when he looked back, Hadvar was jogging to catch up to him. He turned back to the route ahead until something on his left caught his eye.
Standing on a cracked stone platform were three large pillars, with three figures engraved into them. He recognised the figures… he was certain of that. Mertthe’s books definitely had something on them. Oh Gods… what was it?
“These are the Guardian Stones, three of the thirteen ancient standing stones that dot Skyrim's landscape.” Vivild whipped around as Hadvar spoke. The man inclined his head towards them, Vivild looking back at them once again. “Go ahead and see for yourself.”
Standing stones… of course. That’s what they were. 13 stones… representing each month. Judging by the symbols these were…. The Thief, The Mage and The Warrior. He’d be damned before he could remember the rest but these three were the ones he remembered the most. Alongside The Serpent, the outlier, as he often called it.
He wrinkled his nose as he looked at two of them, turning towards the one stone that had the armoured man bearing a shield and warhammer and pressed his hand against the stone. Vivild sucked in a breath as he felt the energy suddenly pour through his very arm, his eyes widening. It felt right. It felt so… right. But it also felt familiar. He didn’t even know how that was possible but he was sure he’d somehow….
“Warrior… good.” he heard the younger exclaim right as he stumbled back, looking down at his hands and feeling almost stunned.
This was the second time that Vivild’s breath had been stolen away today, the first time being when he suddenly was face to face with that dragon, laying on the ground so ready to be decimated only to find the strange beast speaking out to them all in words he couldn’t quite understand. And yet it was in a language he felt like he should know. It was strange… and terrifying, but thinking back to it now, it was fascinating to him.
He huffed, letting his hands drop to his side.
“I’m not really… into the whole magical or sneaking business. T’s not very enticing to me,” he hopped down from the platform with a mutter. “Would rather face the blighter square on.”
“I knew you shouldn't have been on that cart the minute I laid eyes on you.”
He looked up at that comment, wanting to scoff so hard at the way the boy’s eyes were practically shining. By the divines he was way too optimistic.
“I get it. Sneaking’s good for hunting or ambush. Not… pickpocketing some random person’s pocket. And magic just… it doesn’t work for me. It’s too…”
“Unusual?” Vivild guessed with a tilt of his head.
“Yeah.”
The breton shrugged. “My father was a mage. He was well-versed in the arcane back in Cyrodiil. It never got my attention too much. ‘M not scared of the arts, it’s just not my thing. I prefer a heavy weapon in hand and throwing punches over non-physical masses.”
Hadvar hummed in agreement, as they continued their trek down the path.
“Listen,” the leather-cladded soldier started once more, “as far as I'm concerned you've already earned your pardon. But until we get that confirmed by General Tullius, just stay clear of other Imperial soldiers and avoid any complications, all right?”
Great.
Vivild lips curled up in a grimace, scoffing in disbelief. “Sure, whatever you say.”
Seemed as though his bitterness wasn’t missed like he had expected, seeing Hadvar turn over with a grin. “You don’t sound very convinced.”
Vivild met the soldier’s joking with a deadpan frown. “No, not really. Especially after that display in the first place.” his eyes narrowed. “Why was I even labelled a fugitive for, what, crossing the border? What laws was I breaking to have caused that?”
Immediately the smirk was gone and Hadvar let out a sigh. “It was a mistake. You crossed the border at a very ill-timed moment.”
“But it’s still crazy though, when you put it like that.” Oh he could feel the frustration bubbling back up. “I crossed the border and suddenly I’m lumped in on the same cart to get executed like your little rebel group? Just because I happened to be there? That horse thief guy too.”
“I know, I know. But we thought you were part of the rebellion, just not— directly as involved.”
“How? How in oblivion did you guys manage to come to that conclusion without evidence or anything?! I wasn’t even given a chance to explain myself! Your captain said right in front of us both that you should forget the list and put me to the block anyway. Or have you forgotten that?” His eyes narrowed, watching the other man’s expression fall entirely. “Suddenly we were about to be beheaded and I still don’t even know what I did wrong. All because I just happened to be on the cart. Give me a break!” he marched off, no longer caring if the other followed. “I’ll be glad to get out of here and back to Cyrodiil.”
But pretty soon he heard footsteps running after him, and a hand grabbing for his shoulder, forcing him to wheel around and issue the younger man a glare. Only for it to weaken under the much hardened stare the other was giving him.
“I know this is frustrating, and I get that you’re sceptical, but we’ll set it all right. I swear on my honour, I’ll speak on your behalf and get you out of this.”
Vivild blinked, and then scoffed as he pulled his arm out. “Look, you seem at least like a good guy, okay? But that’s a high promise you’re making there, boy.”
“Then let it soil my name, if I fail.” The firmness of Hadvar’s voice made Vivild pause and look back.
He hadn’t really expected anything like that. Honestly, he thought the guy would get defensive. Until now the nord had been constantly praising his legion like they were the divines themselves. The whole trip here, actually. It was enough to give Vivild a headache. But this sudden change of demeanour took him by surprise.
His glare dissipated and his shoulders fell. He didn’t even know what to say, much less do. All he knew was something about that made him feel… warm. To go this far for a stranger he could have left to his demise— he found it almost admirable…
“…Thanks.” He responded, his voice quiet but meaningful.
Anything he wanted to add though was quickly forgotten, after hearing the howl of a wolf nearby. The breton watched the younger man grab for his sword but Vivild waved him off. Spotting where the beast was, he slowly crouched down and grabbed a couple of rocks, throwing it the wolf’s way and giving a few shouts, watching it take off running soon enough. He shrugged at the surprised look on the man’s face.
He started walking again without another word, hearing Hadvar jogging after him to catch up.
“Hey.. Vivild, was it?”
“Yes?” Vivild inclined his head towards the soldier.
“I’m glad you chose to come with me.”
Vivild looked over with a bewildered frown. “O…..kay? Should I be worried that you’re saying this out of nowhere?”
Hadvar laughed. “No, just— I wanted to make sure you knew that. I appreciate your help back there. A lot.”
“Well… You’re not half bad yourself, Hadvar.” You’re still a sheep, but you’re not as intolerable as I first thought, I suppose, went unsaid.
The village was soon within their sights and the tension in Vivild’s shoulders returned as he eyed the small settlement carefully. There weren’t any guards around, neither at the gates nor roaming through, strange as that seemed. Hadvar walked ahead of the breton as they passed the gates, but Vivild found himself slowing down on hearing the conversation to his right.
“I’m telling you! I saw it! It was as big as the mountain, and black as night. It flew right over the barrow,” An older lady was crouched at her tanning rack and working at the leather, talking with the man standing by the railing.
Vivild’s interest piqued very quickly. But it would seem the fellow she was conversing with didn’t hold the same amount of belief as him, Vivild hearing him scoff dismissively.
“Dragons, now, is it? Please, mother. If you keep on like this everyone in town will think you're crazy. And I've got better things to do than listen to more of your fantasies.” The blond stalked off with a huff.
Vivild frowned, ready to walk up and say something, only for someone to grab his arm from behind.
Hadvar shook his head silently, making the other grimace at the wordless command, but obliging as he followed him to the house opposite the lady’s instead.
“Uncle Alvor! Hello!” The boy’s grin had returned quickly as he approached. With his back to them, sat a man on the porch, the sound of the grindstone coming to a halt after Hadvar’s exclamation. The larger figure looked over, his expression dawning with delight and relief.
“Hadvar! What are you doing here? Are you on leave from…” The relief was gone in an instant the moment the man lay eyes on them. Vivild couldn’t help but grip at his still aching wrists, trying to hide the rope burns at least a little, but the grime on his face and the cuts and bruises both himself and the younger soldier were littered with from the skirmish of facing the dragon and any man that threatened their lives below the keep were difficult to hide away. Hadvar still had cobwebs in his hair from the spider’s cavern, and while haphazardly bandaged, the gash on his arm was starting to seep through, now that Vivild realised.
Gods, why did it take him that long to notice that?!
“Shor's bones, what happened to you, boy? Are you in some kind of-”
Hadvar waved his hand as he hushed his uncle, looking around nervously before speaking again, although a lot quieter. “Uncle, please. Keep your voice down. I'm fine. But we should go inside to talk.”
“What's going on? And who's this?” The older man’s eyes landed on Vivild and narrowed, the breton doing all he could to not avoid it as he glanced at the soldier. His grip, however, tightened around his wrist, ignoring the pain that came with it.
“He's a friend. Saved my life in fact.” Hadvar explained, making the older man’s frown deepen. “Come on, I'll explain everything, but we need to go inside.”
“Okay, okay. Come inside, then. Sigrid will get you something to eat, and you can tell me all about it.”
Alvor led the way around to the front of the house, with Hadvar in tow. He glanced back, nodding at the door as an invitation for Vivild to follow.
The man huffed as he walked over, before leaning closer and murmuring:
“A friend? You just met me.”
“Is it wrong to think of someone as a good companion after what we just went through?” Hadvar asked, stunning the older man once more. “I meant it when I said I appreciated you coming back with me. Come on. We could treat those rope burns inside as well.”
He disappeared into the house but Vivild found himself hanging back for a moment. He looked from his hands back up to the door. Originally he was just going to part ways with the guy the moment they had reached this village of his but now…?
His hand clasped the handle. ‘Perhaps I’ll stick around for a little longer,’ he thought quietly as he let himself inside.