Luke Velaryon: The Last Dragonborn C7 (Patreon)

Chapter 7: Escaping Helgen Part II 

By the time they finally reached General Tullius’s position near the center of the town, Luke felt as though at least half a day had passed since the dragon’s arrival, but it couldn’t have been more than at most two hours. He and Hadvar had rescued more than a dozen people along the way, and under normal circumstances, Luke should have collapsed from exhaustion long ago, but he was still holding on well enough.

Hadvar had taught him another use of magicka during the way. Magicka is truly a wondrous thing; it can not only make him stronger or faster, but it can also soothe fatigue and allow him to push himself beyond his normal limits. 

The more he uses his magicka, the easier it becomes; he is still far from mastering it and still makes mistakes, sometimes requiring two or three attempts to enhance his speed or strength, but he is learning fast. Necessity and danger had proved to be great teachers and even greater motivation. This is a swim or drown type of situation, and even drowning seemed more attractive than the ways he could die in Helgen: crushed beneath a collapsing building and die a slow death that could take even hours or more if he is unlucky, burned alive, or even end up in the belly of the dragon. 

Luke Velaryon, a son of House Targaryen, had never once feared dragons until today, from Vhagar to this black dragon, his opinion of the winged predators is changing from friend to foe. He doesn’t think he will be able to ever see dragons as he used to not even a full day ago. 

Helgen seemed like a lovely town not long ago, and now… Luke looked around and sighed.

What had once been Helgen’s heart, a bustling market square filled with all the goods the common man would need in their daily lives, was now a bloody battlefield between the brave Imperial soldiers and the fierce black dragon. 

Stalls lay shattered, and burning debris littered the ground alongside corpses of both soldiers and townsfolk alike. 

The giant black dragon was fighting a group of soldiers under Tullius’ command. Arrows and spells flew towards the dragon with no avail, arrows bounced harmlessly in his dark scales, and even the spells did little more than annoy him at best. 

“Legate!” Hadvar shouted once he saw Rikke who turned in their direction. “How can we help?”

“We?” She looked at Luke with a frown. “Sergeant, did you bring a civilian onto a battlefield?” 

“The lad has proven himself more useful than some soldiers I've served with,” Hadvar replied. “He has helped save several—” 

“Legate!”

Another legionnaire hurried over, cutting him off.

“The south and west gates are blocked! We can't get the civilians out.”

“Shor's Bones!” Rikke swore. “Can't you clear the way?”

“We tried, Legate,” the soldier replied. “The debris is too heavy. We'd need a mage, and every battlemage we have is occupied trying to bring down that damned dragon.” 

“Isn't there another way out of town?” Luke asked. “Most settlements this size have more than two gates.” 

“The east gate would bring the civilians too close to the dragon.” Answered Hadvar before his eyes widened. “The passage!” 

Rikke stared at him for a second, and then her own eyes also widened as she understood what Hadvar had said. 

“Mara's mercy, the passage!” 

Luke and the legionnaire exchanged confused looks.

“The what?” Luke asked.

“There is an old passage beneath the keep,” Hadvar explained quickly. “It was built centuries ago as an emergency escape route in the event of a siege. It leads outside the town walls.” 

“It hasn't been used in years. Maybe decades.” Rikke rubbed her chin. “But if it's still intact...”

“It could get hundreds of people out safely,” Hadvar finished. 

The legate smiled and nodded.

“A good thought, Sergeant.” She looked at Hadvar. “Since you were the one who remembered it, this task is yours. Investigate the passage and determine whether it can still be used.” 

“Yes, Legate!”

“You may take the pup with you.” Her gaze flickered toward Luke. “ Since he has proved useful to you thus far.” 

Luke looked at her. The pup? Is she referring to him? 

“Yes, legate!” He turned to Luke. “Quickly, lad, follow me!”

Luke sighed and ran after him, deciding that being called a pup is not the worst thing in the world. Definitely better than bastard or Lord Strong. 

After passing through the market and avoiding the fight between the soldiers and the dragon, the journey back to the keep was mercifully uneventful, until they reached the courtyard in front of the keep, that is. 

“Ralof! You damned traitor!” Hadvar’s face darkened. “Out of my way!”

Ralof glared at him.

“I am leaving Helgen, Hadvar.” His hand drifted toward the axe at his hip. “And you're not stopping me.”  

“Fine,” Hadvar spat. “I hope that damned dragon carries you straight to Sovngarde.” 

“Luke.” Ralof turned to him. “Come on, let’s get inside the keep!”

“He is coming with me,” Hadvar stepped in. 

Ralof stepped forward as well, and the temperature around them seemed to drop as they reached for their weapons.

Gods, is Blacks versus Greens all over again, he thought. Just this time, he isn’t sure what his side is. If forced to choose, Luke supposed he leaned toward the Empire. He had never been particularly fond of rebels or usurpers, but individually, he liked both Ralof and Hadvar. 

He had come to consider both of them his friends, and now they were about to kill each other. 

“Enough!” Luke stepped between them just as they unsheathed their weapons. 

“Get out of the way, lad.” 

“Don't tell him what to do, Hadvar,” Ralof snapped. 

“Stop this madness!” Luke shouted. “You both claim to love Skyrim and its people, don't you?” 

Both of them looked at him.

“Then act like it.” Luke pointed towards the crumbling town. “Two of Helgen’s gates are blocked. Men, women, and children are trapped within the town, waiting to be burned alive, crushed beneath rubble, or eaten by that dragon.” 

Both men looked embarrassed as they lowered their weapons. 

“There may be a passage beneath this keep that can save them.” Luke gestured toward the entrance. “So you have a choice.” 

His gaze moved between both men. 

“You can fight each other here and now, or you can work together to save the people of Helgen,” Luke said. “What say you?”

Both men sheathed their weapons.

“I don't like working with an Imperial dog,” Ralof muttered. “But for the people of Helgen, I'll do it.”

Hadvar snorted.

“I am still a Nord, Ralof. Don't forget that.”

“Don't YOU forget it.” Ralof folded his arms. “A Nord who abandoned Talos. Can you even call yourself one?”

“ENOUGH!” Both men flinched, and Luke met their eyes without blinking. “Not. Another. Word.”

Luke turned and marched toward the entrance to the keep. A moment later, he heard two sets of footsteps following behind him. 

After entering the keep, Hadvar cleared his throat, and Luke looked at him with a raised eyebrow. 

“What?”

“We keep the prisoners' belongings over there.”  He gestured in the direction of a corridor to the right. 

Luke stared at him for a moment before remembering. 

“My satchel.”

When he had left Dragonstone—what felt like a lifetime ago now—he had packed lightly. The journey had been meant to be a short one, no more than three days at most. Half a day's ride to Storm's End, talk to Lord Baratheon, spend the night, and return the following day. At worst, he might have stayed an extra day or two out of courtesy to Lord Baratheon.

But how did that turn out? He thought bitterly before shaking his head, not the time for that. 

Anyways, his satchel contained little of real value: a couple of spare changes of clothes, basic travel supplies, and a coin pouch. Nothing truly important. 

“Aye.” Hadvar nodded. 

“What are we waiting for then?” Ralof crossed his arms. “Let's get Luke’s things, if they are still there, that is.” 

“What exactly are you implying?” Hadvar frowned. 

“Empire is known for its corruption.” Ralof shrugged and marched down the hall. Hadvar opened his mouth and closed it again.

“I am sure no one touched your belongings, lad.” But he did not look completely sure.

In all honesty, Luke did not care much; it was just clothes and some coins, but a part of him whispered that the satchel was one of the few remaining connections to home he had in this strange and distant land. 

“Let's go see if the Empire is as trustworthy as Hadvar claims,” he said.

“Ha!” Ralof barked a laugh, and Hadvar groaned.

***

Author’s Note: I have read quite a few Skyrim fanfics over the years, but I only remember one where MC got Ralof and Hadvar to work together. It is an old fic. Or perhaps I am the old one here. Gods, where did the years go? Since when did the 2010s become “a long time ago”?