Luke Velaryon: The Last Dragonborn C5 (Patreon)

Chapter 5: The Black Dragon 

Luke was almost limp, so Ralof practically dragged him as he ran through the chaotic courtyard, dodging soldiers and civilians, as well as avoiding the dragon. The soldiers were more focused on the dragon than the escaped rebels, so dodging them wasn’t much of a challenge, but avoiding the destruction caused by the dragon was.  

“FUS… RO… DAH!”

A wave of pure destruction crushed several buildings, turning them to dust along with every poor soul in its way. Luke’s eyes nearly fell out upon witnessing such destruction. This was no dragon at all! Dragons breathe fire, they don’t speak or use magic! This looked more like a god unleashing its ire on mortals, a dragon god at that. 

What in the name of the Gods is that thing?!

“Keep your eyes on it!”

“What in the Eight Divines is this thing?!”

Several soldiers were shooting arrows at the dragon, which proved to be pointless as they just bounced off its scales. Others used magic, which did annoy the dragon and distracted it from its previous targets, but unfortunately, it also brought its ire to the mages.

“How in Oblivion do we kill this thing?!”

“It’s still coming!”

“By Ysmir! Nothing kills it!”

“Die! For the love of the gods, die!”

Ralof entered a nearby watchtower and slammed the door behind them. The room was already crowded with Stormcloaks, some were tending to their wounded while others distributed swords, axes, and shields. 

“Jarl Ulfric! What is that thing? Could the legends be true?” 

Ulfric, with his hands free from the ropes, removed his gag and answered: 

“Legends don’t burn down towns, Ralof.” He looked at Luke, “Luke, was it? You recognized that creature before any of us. What do you know about dragons?”  

Luke took a deep breath to calm his nerves before answering. 

“There are dragons in my homeland, sir, though they are becoming increasingly rare.” Luke hesitated before continuing. “But if that thing is a dragon, then it is unlike any dragon known to me. Valyrian dragons breathe fire and fly, nothing more. They possess no gift of speech, nor any power to command the skies.” 

“All dragons should be able to use the Voice,” Said Ulfric with a frown. “It's their tongue.” 

The Voice is the tongue of dragons? He really needs to learn what that is. 

“Maybe the creatures the lad believes to be dragons are some other creature, lesser being-” The red-haired Stormcloaked is interrupted by an explosion coming from outside.  

“We need to move. Now!” Ulfric ordered. 

“Up through the tower, let’s go.” Ralof urged his comrades, and Luke looked at him with a raised eyebrow. 

“This is a tower, Master Ralof.” 

“We will jump to the roofs of the nearest building to escape the town.” A Stormcloak explained, and Luke looked at his injured leg. 

“We are battered, lad, but we will live.” He said, noticing Luke’s gaze. “We Nords are tough as iron.” 

“Aye.” Another nodded, getting up from the floor despite his injuries. “But even so, another second out there with that dragon and we would be feasting with our ancestors.” 

“Here, let me.” A woman approached him with a dagger and cut off his binds. They sparked for a moment after being cut, but what Luke noticed was not the sparkling ropes falling to the floor but something else. Something flooded into him, and he staggered, almost falling if not for the Stormcloak grabbing his arm. The sensation was strange; it felt like a dam had burst somewhere inside his chest, and a flow of something cold and warm swept through him, racing along his limbs and spine before settling inside of him. Every hair on his body stood on end, and for one moment, he thought he might have been poisoned, but then the sensation deepened, and everything felt more alive. Some part of his being, which had been starving and freezing for his entire life, felt warmed and satisfied for the very first time. 

“It does feel strange each time your magicka is returned to you,” The woman commented. “Damn Imperials, using enchanted ropes even on warriors or children.” 

“Aye, no true Nord uses magic.” Another spat. 

Magic? That is what he felt? Luke shook his head. As much as he would love to know more about it, this is not the time or place.

“Enough talking!” Ulfric said. “Let’s go.” 

Luke followed the man with the injured leg up the stairs, and just as they reached the second floor, half the tower exploded as the dragon’s head appeared for one moment before taking flight as something bright hit its wings. 

“FUS.. ROH” Ulfric shouted, and an invisible force burst from him, hurling stones, splintered beams, and clouds of dust away from the group, saving them from being crushed. The Stormcloak walking in the front wasn’t as fortunate, he was killed the moment the dragon crushed half the tower with his giant head. 

Luke looked at his crushed corpse for one moment before averting his gaze. He sent a fast prayer for the warrior’s soul. 

“We need to keep moving!” Ulfric said. 

“Jarl! Ragnar and Ivar can’t move.” The woman said. 

Luke looked back and saw one man unconscious on the stairs with blood on his head and another lying on the ground floor with his leg at an unnatural angle. They must have fallen earlier, when the dragon appeared.

“Shor’s beard.” Ulfric passed a hand through his hair. “Do we have any potions, Hilda?” 

“We gathered a few minor healing potions.” 

“Use them, we need to-” 

“Luke,” Ralof called him, and Luke looked at him. “Take this and keep going.” He handed him a dagger. 

“Master Ralof?”

“See the inn on the other side?” He pointed through the gap left by the dragon in the tower. “Jump through the roof and keep going.” 

“What about you?” 

“We will follow when we can.”

“But-” 

“Luke, you are not a Stormcloak, but keeping our company will make the Imperials treat you as one.” He put a hand on his shoulder. “You escaped the headsman's axe today, but you will meet it tomorrow if the Imperials see you in our company.” 

Luke put the dagger on his belt and nodded. He had no reason to argue further since Ralof was correct. The last thing he needed was to make the Empire his foe and become a wanted criminal.  

“Go!”

He looked at the Stormcloaks one last time before turning towards the gap. 

“You have my gratitude, Master Ralof, Mistress Hilda, and Jarl Ulfirc. Godspeed.” 

Without waiting for a response, Luke ran towards the gap and jumped across it, landing on the roof of the neighboring inn, hitting the tiles in a shoulder roll. The structure shuddered beneath him but did not crumble. He regained his footing quickly and continued forward, reaching a hole where part of the roof had caved in he jumped and landed on the upper floor of the inn. There was fire and smoke around him, it was just a matter of time before the whole building would be in flames, so he immediately moved on, leaping through a gap in the floor where parts of the staircase had crumbled. 

Gods, there were so many corpses. Luke forced himself not to look too closely as he hurried past them, but it was impossible to ignore the sheer number of dead. On the upper floor, the smoke had clouded his sight enough for him not to see any corpses, if there were any, but the fire had yet to reach this floor, so nothing protected him from this sight. 

The smell of the dead was making his stomach turn, and he nearly retched when he spotted the tiny body of a child crushed beneath a section of collapsed wall. 

All this destruction in a matter of minutes. One moment, Helgen was fine, and the next, a dragon brought doom to her people. He always knew dragons were dangerous, and for good reasons they are feared by most people back home, but Valyrian dragons pale in comparison to this black dragon.   

As he was running towards the doors of the inn, something caught his eye. Near the body of a dead noble or merchant, by the look of his clothing, lay a leather pouch filled with golden coins. 

Luke stopped as he remembered he was penniless right now, so he took the coins, after which he gave a quick prayer for those poor souls and left the inn. A part of his mind told him to look for more coins or things he might need around the inn, but the building had a giant hole from the flaming rock rain the dragon had summoned earlier, and part of it was in flames, so it was just a matter of time before it would completely crumble, and he did not want to be inside when that happened. 

Outside the inn, the sight of Helgen was truly horrific. The flaming rock rain had stopped, but it had destroyed much of the city, killing countless people in the process. To make matters worse, the dragon was still destroying parts of the city. He could hear it in the distance. 

Luke swallowed hard and broke into a run, heading toward what he remembered to be one of the town's gates. The dragon doesn't look like it is planning to leave anytime soon, so the best bet to survive is to make it into the forest and hide. Last time he thought of this exact strategy to escape from a raging dragon, his best friend got eaten, and he nearly drowned. He shook his head; his luck can not possibly be that horrible. 

As Luke rounded the corner of a house on the main road, he saw Hadvar, the boy who was speaking with his father earlier by the road, and the boy’s father, as well as several more soldiers nearby. The boy was frozen in terror, looking at the black dragon, which was just a few hundred feet away, farthest on the main road, tearing through a group of Imperial soldiers who courageously tried to fight it. 

“Haming, you need to get over here,” Hadvar whispered, crouching not far from the boy, looking between him and the dragon, who was not yet aware of their presence.  

Yes, Luke thought, his luck can turn out to be that horrible. He has two options before him: he can turn away and ignore what is in front of him, or he can be an utter fool. 

Luke stared at the boy who couldn’t be older than nine and for a moment his hair turned golden-silver and his eyes purple. He pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned.

Fool it is. 

He might know very little about the powers of the dragons of these lands, about that Voice, but he knows a fair share of things about dragons, one being that they can smell their prey from miles away in the clouds, so there is absolutely no chance this dragon isn't aware of everyone around him, including the boy called Haming. He isn’t attacking because he is currently preoccupied with the soldiers, and looking at the diminishing size of the group facing him, it is a matter of moments before he kills the last of them and turns to another victim, likely the nearest to him. 

So Luke broke into a sprint and raced towards the frozen child as fast as he could. The boy was still looking at the dragon and did not see Luke coming, so when he was scooped and slung over Luke’s shoulder like a potato bag, he nearly yelped. Luke turned and ran the other way right away, not stopping for a single moment. 

“Run.” He whisper-shouted to the other men, who fortunately did not need to be told twice, and immediately ran after him. 

He kept running even after every muscle in his body felt weighted with lead, and only after seeing the dragon fly in another direction through the corner of his eye did he stop. Several beams of light were shot at the dragon from somewhere within the town, drawing its attention far from them, much to his relief.  

Luke lowered the boy to the ground before leaning forward, hands on his knees, staring at nothing in particular as he caught his breath. 

“Haming!” The father was breathing even harder than Luke, but still managed to gather enough strength to take his son in his arms and kiss his head repeatedly. “My little cub, thank the gods.”  

“Still alive, Luke of Dragonstone?” Hadvar caught his breath faster, seeming ready to keep going.  

“Aye.” Luke looked at Hadvar with a bit of envy. His own legs felt like lead and every breath burned, yet Hadvar appeared no more exhausted than if he had taken a brisk walk through town. 

“That was incredibly foolish, boy.” A soldier cut in, stepping towards Luke. “You could have gotten all of us killed.”

“Gunnar.” Hadvar gave him a hard look.

“The dragon knew you were there.” Said Luke while still catching his breath. “It was preoccupied with your brothers and sisters in arms, once finished with them, it would have focused on the nearest person.” 

Gunnar paled and stepped back. 

“Luke of Dragonstone.” The father said once he put his son down, but still gripping his hand.

He stepped closer to Luke and bowed his head.  

“You have my deepest gratitude. You saved my son’s life today.” His voice was rough with emotion. “The debt I owe you cannot be repaid easily, but I give you my word as a Nord that I will repay it, however I can.”

The man met Luke's eyes.

“If you ever find yourself in need of aid, a roof over your head, food on your table, or a sword at your side, send word and I will answer. Whatever is within my power, it is yours.”

“Torolf, you can repay your debts later,” Hadvar said. “Now get your boy out of town. Gunnar, guide them to the evacuation teams.” 

Gunnar nodded before turning to Luke. 

“My apologies, Luke of Dragonstone. Seems I judged you unfairly.” The older man scratched his beard awkwardly. “You were courageous, not foolish.”

Luke inclined his head.

“Apology accepted.”

Gunnar grunted approvingly.

“Lad, you've got a choice to make,” Hadvar said, turning toward him. “You can go with them and leave Helgen while you still can, or stay with me.”

He glanced toward the distant sounds of battle.

“I need to find General Tullius and join the defense. The dragon's still out there, and there are still people trapped in the town.”

Hadvar met Luke's gaze.

“What'll it be?”

***

Author’s Note: And so Alduin is here turning Helgen into HELLgen.