Ralof : Hey, you. You’re finally awake. You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there.

Lokir : D**n you Stormcloaks. Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn’t been looking for you, I could’ve stolen that horse and been half way to Hammerfell. You there. You and me — we should be here. It’s these Stormcloaks the Empire wants.

Ralof : We’re all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief.

Imperial Soldier : Shut up back there!

[Lokir looks at the gagged man.]

Lokir : And what’s wrong with him?

Ralof : Watch your tongue! You’re speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High
King.

Lokir : Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You’re the leader of the rebellion. But if they captured you… Oh gods, where are they taking us?

Ralof : I don’t know where we’re going, but Sovngarde awaits.

Lokir : No, this can’t be happening. This isn’t happening.

Ralof : Hey, what village are you from, horse thief?

Lokir : Why do you care?

Ralof : A Nord’s last thoughts should be of home.

Lokir : Rorikstead. I’m…I’m from Rorikstead.

[They approach the village of Helgen. A soldier calls out to the lead wagon.]

Imperial Soldier : General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting!

General Tullius : Good. Let’s get this over with.

Lokir : Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh. Divines, please help me.

Ralof : Look at him, General Tullius the Military Governor. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. D**n elves. I bet they had something to do with this.

This is Helgen. I used to be sweet on a girl from here. Wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in. Funny…when I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe.

[A man and son watch the prisoners pull into town.]

Haming : Who are they, daddy? Where are they going?

Torolf : You need to go inside, little cub.

Haming : Why? I want to watch the soldiers.

Torolf : Inside the house. Now.