Disclaimer: Bethesda and its affiliates own the Elder Scrolls series, Skyrim, and everything in them. I own nothing except my main character's actions, thoughts, and motivations, and I am making no profit from this story.

Author's note: This is not a strict retelling of Skyrim. It will be slightly AU in some places, but when this happens, it will not be in an attempt to deviate from Skyrim's canon, but rather to make it more unified within my story. Some headcanon will also be present, but never anything that contradicts established Elder Scrolls lore (that I know of! If I am wrong about something like this, please let me know!). In short, I hope that the spirit of this story is true to Skyrim, even if some details are different.

A short side-note: If I ever write anything in the dragon language, I'll put translations of it at the bottom of the chapter.

Stormcloaks.

Volund crouched behind the snow-covered tree and tried to count the soldiers he saw. It wasn't an army; there were only perhaps 20 of the blue-and-brown clad Nords. Not enough to make a city believe it was under assault, but enough to make a hold's guards think twice before attacking the group. It was just about the right size for an escort. Volund had been about to sneak in the opposite direction, but he stopped and looked into the group to see if any important-looking Stormcloaks were present, or if his guess was off. His breath caught in his throat when he saw Ulfric Stormcloak himself.

The leader and namesake of the Stormcloaks was an impressive-looking man. His blonde hair was wild and untamed, and his robes extravagant but robust, more Nordic than the clothing many nobles wore. Volund had seen him once before, from a distance, on a visit to Windhelm. It had been before this whole cursed civil war had begun.

Volund's eye caught something else, then; a flash of movement on the other side of the Stormcloaks put them all on high alert as well. No one had to wait long to discover the source. Imperial soldiers burst from the forest, the red cloth and flashing steel capturing the attention of every eye. Volund took the opportunity to make his retreat, turning away from the battle.

"Make a sound and you die, Stormcloak scum." The Imperial captain who had whispered the threat had a sword at Volund's throat. He froze, not daring to proclaim his innocence. "Bassianus, restrain him and prepare the wagons for any more prisoners we might take," the captain ordered.

"Aye, ma'am," a legionnaire said. He grabbed Volund and began roughly tying his wrists. "You'll have a fine view of the death of Ulfric Stormcloak from here, traitor."

Unease about his situation notwithstanding, Volund did eagerly watch to see if Ulfric would be killed. He watched as the main Legion force, hidden behind him, surged forward to trap Ulfric and his men. He watched the Stormcloaks fall, and a few legionnaires as well. He watched, wide-eyed, as Ulfric bellowed out a Shout which threw five Imperial soldiers away from him. He watched as, at last, the hilt of a sword impacted solidly with the back of Ulfric's head. The rebel Jarl collapsed to the ground, and a legionnaire immediately tied and gagged his unconscious form; several hurried to carry him toward the prisoner wagons. A handful of Stormcloaks remained alive, and a few sacrificed themselves in a suicidal attempt to reach Ulfric and free him, but the rest threw down their weapons. All were bound and herded on to the two wagons waiting for them, along with Volund.

The ride was not a cheerful one. Everyone kept silent until, at length, the Stormcloak across from Volund spoke.

"What are you doing here, kinsman?"

Volund expected retribution from the Imperials on and around the wagon, but when none came, he spoke as well.

"I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, you might say. Caught and mistaken for a Stormcloak scout, I suppose." The driver of the wagon scoffed, but did not order silence. Volund continued. "I was walking through the woods when I saw your party. When I turned to go the other way, I was already surrounded by Legion troops."

"A Nord in the woods near Ulfric Stormcloak might be taken as a scout, whether or not he wore Stormcloak colors," the man agreed. "But maybe you are not a true Nord, if you saw Ulfric and wished to avoid him."

"I'm not a Stormcloak, and you're not the true Nords. If you hadn't been stopped, Ulfric would have destroyed the Empire and Skyrim with it."

The other Nord narrowed his eyes, then lunged toward Volund in an attempted headbutt. Volund twisted in his seat, dodging the forehead of the man and kicking at his knee in return. The man fell hard against the side of the wagon, nearly tumbling out over the edge. A horse galloped up, followed shortly by a handful of legionnaires. The man on the horse spoke.

"What's going on here?"

"Just a little chat, old friend. One you and I had, too, if I recall."

"Ralof, you damned traitor! In Ulfric's honor guard! How many of our kin did you have to kill to get that job?"

"They're not kin if they bow to elves, Hadvar."

"I'm through talking to you. Keep quiet and stay in the cart, or I'll have to kill you myself rather than just escorting you to the headsman." Hadvar's face was drawn in anger and, maybe, guilt. He regarded Volund next. "And who are you?"

"My name's Volund, sir, and I'm not a Stormcloak."

He had meant to say more, but was cut off when the legionnaires around them laughed at him. Hadvar didn't crack a smile, however. "We'll see. A change of heart would be pretty convenient right about now, but I've also never heard of a Stormcloak who didn't wear the colors proudly. General Tullius is waiting for us at Helgen. Make your case when we get there."

Hadvar spurred his horse on and rode to the head of the column, leaving the prisoners to glare at each other until they reached Helgen, half an hour later.

It was an impressive place. Half Imperial fort, half Skyrim town, and all a flurry of action as the Legion rode in with the most important prisoner they had captured in decades. The townspeople watched them curiously, but many ducked inside their houses and slammed the doors when they saw Ulfric Stormcloak. The man had regained consciousness on the trip, and now glared at everything and nothing.

Too soon for the prisoners, the wagons stopped. As the Legion carefully surrounded them, the Stormcloaks and Volund were ushered off the carts and toward a makeshift execution site. It had clearly been prepared hastily and just for them, but a block and a headsman were there, and that was all that was needed. The Imperial captain who had first captured Volund grabbed prisoners one by one and pushed them toward Hadvar, who recorded their names and hometowns. Volund had been the first prisoner on to the cart, and so was last in line to have his name, and his head, taken. He began to plead his case to the captain, who pushed him toward Hadvar as if she heard nothing.

"Volund, wasn't it? Where are you from?" Hadvar asked.

"From Dragon Bridge. I'm not a Stormcloak, I'm not a scout, I'm just a wanderer. And my family has served the Legion…"

"Hadvar," the captain yelled, "I hope for your sake that you're not listening to this Stormcloak scum! You've got his name, send him to the block!"

"And captain," another voice, older and tired-sounding, broke in, "I hope for your sake that you're not about to execute a man wearing a Legion Commendation of Valor." The speaker, clearly the general that Hadvar had mentioned, walked up to Volund and grasped the small medal fastened to his collar.

The captain had paled. "N-no sir, General Tullius, sir!"

The general ignored her, reading the medal's inscription. "'For exemplary action in defense of the Empire, Volund Iron-Hand is posthumously awarded this medal of valor.' Well, son, you're not dead, so I'm guessing you're not the one who earned this."

"Sir, Volund is my name and my grandfather's as well. He was a legate under General Jonna's command when their legion assisted the Emperor in retaking the Imperial City. He died defending a breach in his men's shield-wall."

"Well, now, that's something to think about. I'll talk further with you later." The general turned to his troops. "In the meantime, we've got business to attend to. Ulfric Stormcloak!"

The man in question had been ushered to the block and was held by two legionnaires. General Tullius continued talking.

"Some here in Skyrim call you a hero, but a hero doesn't murder his king and kinsman! Your claims for the throne are as empty as your cause, and your actions in Skyrim have done nothing but threaten the Empire's safety and Skyrim's own well-being! You started a war that the Empire is going to end. With your death today, we begin restoring peace and order in Skyrim, and the Empire!" Tullius turned to the executioner. "Do it."

Ulfric was pushed toward the block and unceremoniously forced down onto it while a priest began to intone a standard blessing. She was silenced by a mighty roar.

Helgen shook as a huge black beast landed on the tower above them. The execution momentarily forgotten, each eye watched what could only be a dragon. They were only more surprised when it spoke.

"Het nok sili dovah. Drun wah Alduin!"

An instant passed and no one moved. Then the dragon roared again, shouting in rage to the sky. It boiled above them as clouds formed, and stone and fire began to rain on the town. Prisoners, townspeople and legionnaires alike ran for cover or weapons. Volund was still standing beside Hadvar, who dragged him into the shelter of a stone building.

"I trust you, kinsman. You're no Stormcloak," he said as he cut the bindings from Volund's wrists. "And even if I'm wrong, the dragon will likely fix my mistake."

Volund flexed his stiff arms. "We'll see. I don't suppose you have a sword I could borrow?"

Author's note: Alduin's speech means, roughly, "A dragon's soul lies here. Bring it before Alduin!" I've always assumed that Alduin sensed the soul of a dragon at Helgen, mistakenly believed it to be one of his 'dead' brethren, and came to revive it; he destroys the town when he can't find the dragon, who is actually one of the tiny mortals scampering below him. This explanation is the only one that makes sense to me. At this point, Alduin is still seeking out and reviving dragons, and what OTHER reason could he have for showing up and torching the place? The war is good for him (souls om nom nom), but not critical, plus I highly doubt he cares enough to follow around the Imperials and see what they're up to on a regular enough basis to know that Ulfric is about to be executed.

Criticism about my writing, and corrections on lore or dragon language are welcome. I try to fact-check this stuff beforehand but nobody's perfect!