Disclaimer: this fanfiction is based on a game produced by Bethesda Studios called Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim.
Therefore, I do not own anything in this story. It’s meant to be fun and a simple, free showcase of my writing style. All dialogue of characters other than Aia is straight from the game. I’ll make note if I ever add dialogue to flesh out a scene.
Setting, characters, and plot will be determined by my playthrough on my Nintendo Switch. The screenshots and clips will be from my game system. My playthrough for this fanfiction is a role-playing challenge run of an Imperial named Aia. I am pausing the game to write what happens as it does. If Aia dies in the game, she will be thrust back in time to my last save to try again in the story, as well (Re: Zero). I am not sponsored. You do not need to be a Skyrim fan to enjoy the story, but you will miss some jokes and references (especially about followers).
For my character stats, rules, and lore: see the bottom of the post.
Chapter 2: Escape Helgen!
Even within the stone keep, we can still hear the dragon’s roars and the screams of the fallen just outside the door…as others fail to make their escape.
It’s a tragic nightmare out of legend.
“Looks like we’re the only ones who made it,” Hadvar sighs, sweeping his reddish-brown hair from his eyes. “Was that really a dragon? The bringers of the End Times?” Shaking his head, he indicates my hands. “We should keep moving. Come here. Let me see if I can get those bindings off.”
I stand, frozen. Is he really going to untie a prisoner?
“Those binds aren’t going to cut themselves,” he insists, waiting for me patiently with a kind eye. I step forward, heart fluttering, disbelieving the rapid turn of events. The war isn’t over. I’m alive…He cuts the rope and says, “There you go. Take a look around, there should be plenty of gear to choose from. I’m going to see if I can find something for these burns.”
He looks around while I scavenge a few pieces of gold from a table nearby, considering it Zenithar’s fortune since the whole keep will probably fall today. Divines keep watching over me as I flee this place to start my new life. I swear to serve you with every breath I take until the day I die.
“See if one of these chests has some armor for you.” All of the chests are empty, except for two. My hands shake as I equip the Imperial light armor, helmet, and boots that I find. Pocketing the Helgen Keep Key, I leave the sword, even as he encourages me to give it some practice swings. I am no warrior. “Let’s keep moving. That thing is still out there,” Hadvar guides.
My hands haven’t stopped shaking. The patient Nord pulls a chain to open the gate further into the keep. I follow, eyes down, still praying. As we approach a second gate, we hear rebels. I flinch, hoping he doesn’t think I’m with them. He opens the gate. “Hear that? Stormcloaks. Maybe we can reason with them.”
I have a bad feeling about this. I crouch down behind him as he steps forward. They pull their weapons despite his words, and the clash starts before I can hold my hands up, or think of a spell. Neither of the Stormcloaks have noticed me. Hadvar staggers back under their might, and I finally shake my head.
I concentrate, focusing the novice spell Healing into each hand. I know the novice destruction spell, Flames, but I can’t. I will not raise my hands against the living. I try to put myself between Hadvar and the blonde Nord swinging her iron battle axe into him, flinching and closing my eyes, but she ignores me. Hadvar grunts, barely blocking the blow. I cringe and cry, “I’m wearing Legion armor, too!”
Hadvar yells with a power swing at my words, and forces one of them to kneel. Offering mercy, my protector turns to the other rebel. They clash briefly until the blonde rises again to lunge forward with her battle axe right into Hadvar’s back! He kneels, gasping for air, blood rushing down his back. She surges forward and strikes him in the back until he kneels in return.
I cry harder, and now they finally see me. They snicker before swinging both of their weapons at me. Panicking, I heal my wounds with both hands, barely able to staunch the blood flow. I limp back, barely dodging the next swing. Hadvar, still bloody and recovering, surges forward from the ground and sends a powerful strike into the back of one of the rebels. I can barely see through the blood.
When did they hit me in the head?
I desperately heal myself to full health as Hadvar kneels again, leaving the Stormcloak to train her massive axe on me yet again, her face sweating and fierce. She raises it above her head, but I don’t move. Warriors stand on the front lines, blow after blow.
If I can’t take a strike or two, what sort of Legionnaire would I really be?
Should I run?
I may not officially be a healer or a priestess, only a novice orphan with simple dreams, but I won’t run.
I won’t kill, but I won’t run!
My life flashes before my eyes as she buries the blade of her axe into my shoulder, piercing my thin armor to carve away at the skin underneath. Hadvar hears my cry, and lunges himself to my rescue, slaying the Nord woman. Sheathing his bloody sword, his grim face ghosts over for a moment before clearing.
I put my hands down in silence.
After a moment, he opens another door and starts leading me down a set of stairs. I hope we don’t run across Ralof. He may be a Stormcloak, but he did guide me to take cover when the dragon first appeared. I don’t want the Stormcloaks to die. I just want everyone to stop fighting.
The hallway collapses, and we’re forced into a storage room with two more rebels. After quick work from Hadvar, they’re two more corpses. I stare at them, refusing to loot their pockets. I’ve read about travelers who consider the dead to be no different than treasure chests, swiping gold or even the clothes from their still warm bodies. I gag and try not to let my eyes linger.
The storeroom itself will be abandoned. As I continue to avoid looking at the rebels, I gather a half-loaf of bread, salt, potions, red apples, and some of the rabbit that would go to waste. I grab a wooden bowl and tankard, just in case. Hadvar, who has been waiting by the door and drinking a few minor healing potions, watches me shuffle toward him. He says, “Done, then? This way!”
He seems unfazed by my trauma. I wonder if all new soldiers face death the same way. Tragedy has swept through my life, time and again, yet I’ve never seen someone die first-hand. Even in the Jerall Mountains, I was the first to fall among the traders of the caravan. They were all already cold by the time I woke…
More clashing of weapons, a lot more of them. “The torture room. Gods, I wish we didn’t need these…” Hadvar draws his bow as two members of the Legion fend off two Stormcloaks. The Legionnaires, a burly Nord with greasy hair and a hooded mage, hold their own, but there will be more casualties. I can’t even heal anyone other than myself…I don’t know what to do. The three small cages along the wall stink of blood and death, so I inch toward a larger cage with a bar.
I won’t take up the iron mace on the weapon rack, but beside the rack on the floor is a shield…I can’t heal others, but I can protect and heal myself! I take it. Stendarr guide me. As I leave the cage to help the Legionnaires, I realize it’s already over. Battle and death can be so quick, and I kneel under the horrid stench of the torture chamber, holding my nose.
The hooded Legionnaire says something about how the Stormcloaks were angry over how he treated their allies. When Hadvar mentions the dragon and escape, the arrogant torturer scoffs, insisting that my protector holds no “authority” over him. He doesn’t seem inclined to argue with the surly Nord. “We’ll need everything we can get,” he says to me, encouraging me to loot the cages.
I let Hadvar press forward, the greasy-haired Nord following. I wonder whether I should still take the shield, and decide that I will. Avoiding the torturer and his victims in the cages, I rush after Hadvar, afraid of what I’d find in the other jail cells that I pass in the hallway. We pass more corpses and old skeletons, and I wonder how dark and how deep the torture goes in Helgen’s history. Why wouldn’t they clean away the skeletons? Then, I wonder if Skyrim is a much harsher land than I realize…
Our journey into the depths continues until we hear water. We enter the chamber. Surrounded! Hadvar and the quiet Nord from the torture chamber engage the rebel coming from the left, and I’m left to guard the stairs to our right. Both rebels running at me have huge two-handed weapons, but my iron shield holds. I flinch. It holds again, and I cast Healing slowly between strikes.
I smile. I’m protecting myself! For someone who has never fought before today, I could be dead already. Restoration magic is a blessing. Health dropping lower, I can hear the rebel fall behind me. An arrow from a distant archer grazes my leg. I grit my teeth and groan. My companions rush to my aid, distracting the two-handed warriors as I stumble back some. Blood still pumping in my ears, my left arm thrusts the shield forward, bashing one of their guards away. Healing.
The two rebels fall. When the three of us notice the two archers in the distance, Hadvar draws his bow and the greasy Nord charges. Hadvar seems unfazed, but I’m worried enough to rush forward with him. Both gang up on him, possibly familiar with him from the torture chamber. No matter how many times I bash them with my shield, they won’t look at me.
He falls so fast, blood pooling around him. I feel helpless and alone, both of them turning their fury to me. I hold out until Hadvar realizes I’m alone. He jogs over and slays them quickly, and then jogs over the corpse of the Legionnaire who just fell beside me, all without batting an eye.
I must have lucked into being protected by the Legion’s most invincible soldier because this Nord is hardier than what I’ve heard is possible. I’m grateful he’s with the Legion. I can’t imagine the life of a soldier, to run over the corpse of a fallen comrade without grieving them. I suppose when death surrounds someone, the only way is forward.
“Let’s see where this goes,” Hadvar says, pulling the bridge’s lever and leading me across. Something rumbles behind me. As I turn back, the ceiling falls. The bridge is destroyed.
I could have died, again.
“Damn it. No going back that way. I guess we’re lucky that didn’t come down on top of us.”
You think?
I don’t say anything. Realizing I haven’t said anything to Hadvar this entire time, I marvel at the true charity of his actions. Protecting an unarmed, silent prisoner during a crisis really shows how noble of a man he truly is. I almost wonder if it’s too late to say anything. I open my dry mouth and chapped lips, finding a wisp of a sound. Hadvar’s already running away, though, and doesn’t hear it.
I stop at a small waterfall, tipping the tankard from my bag in for some cold water. I didn’t think I would get the chance to use it so soon, but my heart rate still hasn’t calmed down. I can’t believe we’ve escaped this far. He waits as I drink, gently continuing to guide me farther.
Then, cobwebs. They start in the tunnel and fill the room enough that it can be seen from afar. I’ve read about them. Frostbite spiders: ugly, hairy, and poisonous. I bring up my shield and focus Healing in my right hand. We step inside, and there are too many. Two more spiders drop from the ceiling, bigger than the others!
I dodge some sort of web projectile, and manage to guard against most of the second strike, but a small graze on my leg numbs. Poison. I use Healing, and guard every time they strike. There are too many with each of us facing several. I guard and heal myself until Hadvar reaches my side, barely able to heal through the poison. I’m grateful when it fades and the last spider falls.
Hadvar must sense my unease because he chuckles, “What’s next? Giant snakes?”
I smile.
Cold and wet, I shiver and hug my arms around myself. He leads me into a larger cavern, quieter, where we find a sleeping bear. I frown. I really don’t want to fight anymore, so when he suggests that we don’t, I nod. “Just take it nice and slow, and watch where you step.” He gives me a bow with some arrows. I suppose he’s been confused that I won’t wield a weapon.
We crouch down and inch forward. The bear doesn’t move.
We’re nearly past, and I glance back. It’s opened its eyes and is starting to stand, but with Hadvar’s gentle coaxing, we escape around a huge rock to hide. I can barely breathe. “Whew. That was close,” he says.
Really?
In the Legion, he must be Captain Obviously Invincible. He states the obvious in deadpan, and somehow lives through everything. I wonder if he’s trying to be funny, or if he really does just say whatever comes to mind. I suppose I shouldn’t judge, since I haven’t said a word. We’re an odd pair.
“This looks like the way out. I was starting to wonder if we’d ever make it.” I look up and see him running into the sun!
Tears well in my eyes as I stumble after him. “Me, too,” I finally say.
Thanks for reading this fun side story that I write to relax. Check out some of my actual fantasy writing on my Patreon!
Chapter 3 coming Wed, June 11! NEW chapter every Wednesday!
Character: Aia
Current Level: 1
Current Perks: none
Age: Unknown, Young Adult
Race: Imperial
History: An orphan raised by the Great Chapel of Mara in Bravil of Cyrodil, Aia has always been fascinated with love and restoration magic. The priest there encouraged her to travel to Skyrim to help the Legion in the civil war there…
Level of 3 Primary Skills: Restoration (25), Block (21), Alteration (15)
Level of 2 Secondary Skills: Smithing (15), Enchanting (20)
Days Past: 0
Dungeons Cleared: 0
Challenge Run Rules:
- No offense outside of shield bash and dragon shouts.
- 5 perk skill limit: 3 mage, 2 warrior
- Difficulty: Master. Anniversary Edition: Survival mode on, all DLC installed.
- Character Death results in resetting to the last time she has slept.
- Morally Good: does not commit crime, lie, or associate with Daedra
- Legion Loyalty: a loyal Imperial, she fundamentally opposes the Stormcloak rebellion.
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