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In his defense, he’d been a little bit too worried about his own impending death at the time to be aware of much beyond resignation to it. When the woman who’d been nabbed alongside himself, Ulfric, the horse thief from Rorikstead, and the rest of the jarl’s party finally regained consciousness, he recognized somewhere in the depths of his chest-beating Nord ancestor-inherited manliness that despite the filth covering her, the matting of her long, long hair and the swollen lip and eye, she was an extremely beautiful girl.He didn’t quite register the fact that later, once the shock of a dragon attacking just as she was about to be parted head from body abated enough to let self-preservation instincts kick in, his own chest had given a painful, sharp thud when he’d seen that – hands still bound before her belly – she’d managed to escape when he’d thought sure he’d seen her go down for good.He also didn’t quite catch the awe he felt when, dressed in his fallen Stormcloak brother’s officer armor and wielding the man’s unique Nordic hero battleaxe, she’d cleaved life away from five Imperials in a row before he’d even managed to grip the hafts of the dead man’s two smaller axes he himself had decided to pilfer.He wasn’t entirely aware of the fact that seeing her go absolutely berserk on the nest of giant spiders they encountered, never mind the bear that came after, had heated his blood to the point where a very obvious reaction was taking place underneath his pants.In truth, it wasn’t until they’d elatedly exited their miraculous escape tunnel and watched the big, black dragon screech into the sky and disappear into the clouds that he turned to take stock of the person he knew he owed his life to.She was a hot mess – as was he, to be fair. Eyes blazing, axe still held firmly in white-knuckled hands, crouched like she was ready for the dragon to come back and Talos help the damn thing if it did, he’d wager. She was bleeding, scraped up, bruised, panting and quite obviously terrified yet somehow also inspirationally brave.His mouth moved and his voice emerged and for a moment, when she apparently realized she could relax for half a minute, the girl seemed almost embarrassed. While Ralof wasn’t old by any stretch of the imagination at twenty-two winters aged, she looked noticeably younger than he, and he was pretty sure she was a Nord like him even though her hair was the oddest shade of some kind of mix of royal violet and blood red that he’d ever witnessed. But it was her pale grey eyes that spoke volumes, for within them he found some intangible reason to feel a surge of protectiveness that hit him out of nowhere, prompting him to turn and start jogging away toward Riverwood lest he make a fool of himself over a complete stranger.One who'd saved his life.And probably even prettier than his imagination could have dreamed, once she got cleaned up.He wanted – needed – to help her. His sister…yes. Gerdur would help. They were very close, but it’d been an age since they’d seen one another. Gerdur, as a woman, as a mother, yes, she would instinctively want to help.The girl’s name was Kjellfrid. It meant 'beautiful beloved'. Her parents must have loved her so. He wondered where they were. Looked up. Saw Bleak Falls Barrow high in the distance. Stopped in his tracks as he recalled the day Gerdur had tried to terrify his eight-year-old self with stories of the draugr coming to snatch him in the night if he didn’t do all her chores for her. To her credit, and his eternal shame, she managed to keep that ruse going for almost a full season. He'd gotten his own back in the end, though, by filling her bed with frogs and rigging a bucket of water to douse her as she ran screaming from the house.Ah, those were the days.Now it was all about fighting for the rights of Skyrim’s inhabitants to worship as they pleased and govern themselves rather than fall under the thumb of Thalmor purists. While it was true that Ulfric and many of those who followed him preferred there to be nothing but Nords in their land, to their way of thinking the high-and-mighty mers claimed for themselves a godhood falser than any could say of the once-human Talos’ revered place in the pantheon.Truthfully, Nords had never been particularly fond of any kind of elf thanks to the long history of wars between the two species, but at least they hadn’t enslaved the Argonians or the Dunmer. No, these other races didn’t live in more respectable well-built homes like the Nords did within Windhelm’s walls, Argonians not even being allowed any further than the docks, but they were all paid for their goods and services and indeed the Dunmer had their own separate economy altogether in the Grey Quarter.Many of them worked for Nord employers both in and out of the city proper and in the end, there were many other places they could go in Skyrim if it was so intolerable that they did nothing but complain despite the fact that they were safer in Windhelm than almost anywhere else by sheer virtue of it being ruled by Ulfric Stormcloak.Ralof had never really understood why, in such a vast land as Skyrim, these other races didn’t just make their own independent settlements. He knew for a fact that Whiterun hold tolerated any, every and all manner of folk as did the Rift and Haafingar, and many others. It seemed to him that if a place became intolerable for his own family, he’d just move them to somewhere more friendly. Gerdur had once told him he was a well-meaning but simple man, whatever that meant, and that these things were much more fraught than he believed, but Ralof maintained it was simply good sense.Given the tensions of the time and the highly questionable allegiance of people who refused to take one side of the war over the other even though they owed their entire existence there at all to the pleasure of the Jarl of Windhelm, Ralof reasoned, the dark elves were damn lucky Ulfric hadn’t kicked them out entirely. Or culled them. It would have been his right. But though he may have been a Bear indeed, he wasn’t without compassion. It was simply that a man who was trying to do what he was trying to do could not afford to be seen as weak, nor could it be said of him that he favored one non-Nord race over another, nor could he risk overt displays of mercifulness being used against him as a weakness.Ralof was happy to fight for Ulfric and what he stood for, but awfully glad he wasn’t the face of the revolution, for he would not wish Ulfric’s fate or destiny upon anyone he cared for. And he did care for Ulfric, having spent many hours near him as part of his personal guard, one of eight besides the Stone-Fist that their jarl trusted implicitly. Today, they had all proven they would die for him. More than one had.But this Kjellfrid, she…she was different. Though injured and traumatized, she held herself with a bearing that made him think of the stories and songs about ancient queens like Saint Alessia or Potema. Freydis or Mabjaarn Flame-Hair. Jsashe or Roleke. Kjellfrid’s hair, color unusual in and of itself, was held in a high ponytail and so wavy it reminded him of waters made angry by a storm as it bobbed and flowed and floated around her despite its filth.But once she had bathed and then once he had, too…and once she had eaten of Hod’s pit-roasted bear and Gerdur’s fresh-baked bread…and once he’d convinced her to at least allow herself a mug of mead while putting away a good six himself…he and she settled in to recover from their experience whilst regaling his young nephew Frodnar with tales of Helgen and the dragon and on Ralof’s part, his time fighting alongside Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak.Eventually the boy wound down as children were wont to do, leaving Gerdur to clean up after the men, who went outside to sit on the porch and catch up as men must, one to another. Ralof was surprised and pleased to hear Kjellfrid offer to help his sister as he closed the door behind him, showing more of her character that was only just now really starting to sink into Ralof’s being.“What’s with the goofy smile, then, eh?” Hod asked as he lowered himself with a wince into one of the two porch chairs he had undoubtedly built.Ralof looked up to the rapidly darkening sky where stars had just begun to appear and shook his head slightly. “I still have my head.” He met Hod’s eyes and took his own seat. “What’s not to celebrate in that?”“Bah,” Hod snorted as he flapped a hand at him. “It’s the girl. You know it’s the girl, don’t play like it’s anything but.”Ralof’s immediate reaction was denial, or to just laugh it off as typical man talk, but for some reason that eve as the entire unbelievable series of events that had occurred over the past couple of days finally started to settle around him like a burdensome shroud, he didn’t think such a reaction did justice to the gravity of the situation they now found themselves in.Kjellfrid wasn’t a Stormcloak or an Imperial. She’d told Gerdur during a lull in the conversation as his sister was helping her find clothing that could reasonably pass as fitting after she’d bathed in the river, that she had been taken by her Imperial aunt and Nord uncle to Cyrodiil after her own parents had been killed by bandits not far from the border. But she hated it, as she hated the Imperials and the Altmer that seemed to be everywhere. She'd only wanted to come home. So she’d run away and gotten entangled in Skyrim’s civil war as reward for her efforts.And she was only seventeen. Just barely legal there in Skyrim for anyone not a jarl or above in station. Ralof was surprised someone so beautiful had not yet been married off and wondered about it, but was pulled from his reverie by Hod’s louder-than-necessary laughter as he guffawed and sputtered, “I knew it! Your loins ache for her, do they not, boy? Then take her! I saw how she looked at you. I daresay she wouldn’t refuse a well-timed advance.”Ralof blinked at him, mild embarrassment disappearing as he repeated, “How she looked at me? What are you talking about?”“I remember well when Gerdur eyed me like that. She wanted to crawl under the furs with me the moment we met.”“And she did. And I had to listen to it half the night,” Ralof groused good-naturedly.Hod laughed again. “That’s how this little girl looks at you. You say she saved you today.”“Aye. I wouldn’t have made it out of Helgen without her help, and that’s a fact.”“Yet her eyes tell a different story.”“Her eyes?”Hod looked speculatively at his brother-in-law. “Surely you’re not immune to the affections of the fairer sex?”Ralof felt his face flush and cursed his inability to hide embarrassment from…well, anybody. “I’m a true man, if that’s what you’re getting at. What does it matter?”“Look, I’m neither your father nor your uncle, but I am your elder. All I’ll say is that you need to look into her eyes, Ralof.”“You’re getting soft. What has my sister done to you?”Hod laughed out loud yet again, this time slapping his knee for good measure. “Kept my eye from wandering anywhere beyond her skirts for nigh on ten years, that’s what!”“Ugh,” Ralof scoffed, very seriously not wanting to think about his older sister and what she got up to in amongst the furs. It only made Hod laugh harder.His laughter gradually subsided, leaving a comfortable silence between the two men as they gazed up at the star-studded night sky and listened to the sounds of Riverwood winding down as all towns do when the sun loses itself against the distant horizon. The crisp Skyrim air carried a sense of renewal, and Ralof couldn't help but feel a growing determination to follow his heart, just as he had followed Kjellfrid through the chaos of Helgen.After a thoughtful pause, the rogue finally spoke, his voice carrying a hint of vulnerability. "You might be right, Hod. She's different, and I can't deny that. There's something about her that draws me in."Hod nodded sagely, eyes reflecting understanding with nary a hint of the long bout of teasing he'd just put his brother-in-law through. "Aye, lad. Sometimes, in the midst of chaos and war, we find something worth fighting for beyond just the cause. Love has a way of blooming in the unlikeliest of places."As they continued to talk, Ralof realized that he needed to find a way to express his feelings to Kjellfrid. The bond they had formed during their harrowing escape from Helgen was undeniable, and he couldn't ignore the way her eyes had lingered on him, filled with a mixture of gratitude and, he felt certain, something more.After a night in which Gerdur and Kjellfrid shared the larger bed and the menfolk made do for sleep as the rough and tumble proper Nords they were, Ralof awoke early, determined to find a way to spend some time alone with Kjellfrid. He knew that Gerdur would have chores for her to do, helping out around the farm, but he hoped to steal a few moments with her before the day's work began.As he made his way up from the basement to the main floor of his sister's home, he couldn't help but feel a sense of nervous excitement. What if he was misreading Kjellfrid's interest? What if she didn't share the same feelings, or what if they had been real enough, but forged in the fires of a dragon's breath only to die as embers do when doused by the cold reality of day? These thoughts swirled in his mind as he approached the door, nearly making him dizzy with trepidation, elation and no small amount of a feeling like dozens of tadpoles were wriggling in his belly.He found Kjellfrid helping Gerdur with the morning preparations, her sleeves rolled up as she kneaded dough for the day's bread. The sight of her, with her vibrant hair tied back in a simple bun and flour dusting her cheeks and the very tip of her slightly upturned nose, only deepened his affection for her.Gerdur noticed Ralof's presence and gave him a knowing smile. "Good morning, Brother. Did you sleep well?"He nodded, his gaze fixed on Kjellfrid. "Aye, I did. And you, Kjellfrid?"She turned to him, her eyes meeting his with a warm, genuine smile to set them off. "Better than I expected, thanks to your sister's hospitality."Ralof took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his emotions. "Gerdur, if you don't object, I'd like to steal my savior away for a moment.” To Kjellfrid he added, “Would you mind taking a walk with me? I'd like to show you something."Kjellfrid's eyes widened slightly, and she exchanged a quick glance with Gerdur, who nodded her consent. "Of course, Ralof. I...I'd be happy to."Leaving the house behind, Ralof and Kjellfrid walked in companionable silence toward a nearby clearing that edged the beautiful river that was half of what had given the town its name. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a warm golden glow over the landscape. It was a serene moment amidst the chaos of their world.Finally, Ralof broke the silence. "I wanted to thank you, Kjellfrid. Not just for saving my life in Helgen, but for being here with us now. You've shown incredible bravery, and I'm grateful to have you by my side."Kjellfrid's cheeks flushed, and she looked down at her feet for a moment before meeting his gaze again. "You don't have to thank me, Ralof. I couldn't have left you there. And I'm grateful to have met you too. You're different from the others, and I...well, I admire your strength and your heart."He smiled, feeling a connection that went beyond words. "Hod was right, you know. He said I should look into your eyes, and he was right."She looked at him, a hint of curiosity in her eyes. "What do you see when you look into my eyes?"Ralof took a step closer to her, his heart pounding with both nerves and excitement. "I see a future, Kjellfrid. A future where we fight for Skyrim's freedom side by side, but also a future where we find happiness together."Kjellfrid's eyes shimmered with emotion, and she reached out to take his hand. "Ralof, I see that future too, and I welcome it."In that moment, beneath the golden Skyrim sun, Ralof and Kjellfrid shared their first tender kiss, sealing a bond that had been forged in the fires of Helgen. As they pulled away, their hearts filled with hope, they knew that their journey together was just beginning, and that they would face whatever challenges lay ahead hand in hand, with love and courage as their guiding stars.Ralof leaned in again, whispering, “My beautiful beloved,” as his next kiss curled both sets of toes.And if Ralof looked a bit dishevelled when he started chopping wood near the mill, and if Kjellfrid's cheeks were flushed as red as the small carrying pouch that was always wrapped round her waist, well, Hod and Gerdur were kind enough not to say a word. For now, it was enough to watch new love blossom, just as it had for them nearly a decade past.