Alright, so while sitting around waiting for posts on various role plays, I got it in my head to think of a short fan-fiction story to tell. After a while of thinking, I came up with this concept, and just started writing. It's pretty short, even as short stories go, but I feel it makes sense in the scope of the story. Also, it's a tad bit corny. Please, comment, let me know what you think.

Brothers

I barged into my childhood home, my blood boiling with rage as I flung the door open. My mother was standing by the fire, looking up in surprise at me. My father came in from the other room, looking to see what the fuss was about.

“Trolfar, what a—“my mother started.

“Is it true?!” I boomed, ignoring my mother. My eyes were locked on my brother, sitting at the table.
His eyes were defiant, glaring right back at me. “Is what true?” he asked, a smirk on his face.

I crossed the room, grasping the front of his shirt in my fist and pulling him up from his chair. “You know EXACTLY what I’m talking about, you stupid snow-back!” I screamed in his face. Spittle flew in different directions, but I didn’t care. “Are you really that dull?!”

“Stop it! Stop this fighting, boys!”

“For the love of the gods, you’re brothers, damnit!”

He knocked my hand away from his shirt, his eyes matching my anger. Neither of us listened to a word our parents were yelling. “I’m the one being smart here,” he spat, shoving his finger in my face. “You’re just a stupid sheep listening to your knife-eared shepherds!”

I pushed him back, hard, and he fell onto the table, tipping a bowl over and sending apples rolling off onto to the floor. He stumbled, but didn’t take his eyes off of me. “And you’re just a fool following a bigoted murderer!” I yelled, pointing at him. “He’s nothing but an agitator, and you’re nothing but an idiot!”

He looked calm as he strode towards me, getting in my face once again. “It makes sense that you would lie down with the Empire.” He practically seethed the words. “You always were a coward.”

I saw red. My fist lashed out, connecting with his chin with a jolt. Pain shot back through arm, and he fell right back onto the table, sinking to the floor before he could catch himself. My father tried to help him up, but he pushed him away, climbing to his feet and lunging at me. He caught me around the waist, knocking me back out through the door. We landed in a heap on the ground, my back connecting hard with cobblestone.

I felt my wind leave me as my brother stood up. I attempted to stand, and my skull lighted up with pain as what felt like his foot connected with my jaw. I tasted copper, blood oozing out of my mouth. I shook my head as my vision swam, and saw my brother rearing back for another kick. I lashed out with my boot, catching him in his planted ankle and sending him sprawling onto the ground beside me.

I scrambled to my feet, wiping my face and spitting crimson blood from my mouth. I watched my brother climb back to his feet, whirling to face me. His face was red and his eyes ablaze. His lip was split open, and blood was smeared across his jaw as he wiped at it with a sleeve. “You always were a milk-drinker!” I spat at him, blood flying from my mouth instead of spittle.

He came at me, swinging his fists like clubs. The blows bounced off my chest and shoulders as I rained blows down on him, punching around his arms and connecting with his chin again and again. He threw a right hook, and I blocked it, but before I could throw another punch he brought his head forward, catching me square in the forehead.

My vision went sideways, and the rest of my body followed me down. I could see him recoiling from the head butt, holding his head in his hands. After a moment he came at me again, leaning over top of me and raining down blows. I brought my arms up to block my head, feeling his fists hitting my arms again and again. One punch got through, catching me hard on my cheek bone. I gritted my teeth, feeling the pain with every landed punch. I lashed out with my elbow, and caught him in the temple. The punches ceased for a moment, and I rolled over with my opposite fist, catching him in the same spot and sending him to the ground.

I stumbled to my feet, my cheek already starting to swell in front of my eye. My forehead had split open, and blood trickled down, stinging my eyes. I hurried over to him, lying sprawled on his back next to the woodcutting block as his eyes drifted in and out of focus. He saw me and started to rise, but I put my heel on his collar, ready to press my foot into his neck. I reached out and picked up the axe, bringing the head down and holding it next to his face. The shouts of the people that had gathered to watch didn’t even register. The cries of my parents fell on deaf ears. I raised the axe, ready to bring it down and end his life.

But in that moment, as I stood over him and looked into his eyes, it wasn’t a Stormcloak soldier lying in front of me. I saw two blond haired kids playing with wooden swords. I saw them chasing chickens around the yard. I saw a blond headed child leaning on his brother’s shoulder as he fell asleep. I saw them splashing each other in the lake. I saw my brother. Imperial, Stormcloak, it didn’t matter. We were blood. That meant so much more than picking sides in some pointless war.

I threw the axe aside, and looked back down into my brother’s eyes. Swollen, bloodied, and confused. I found myself hoping he would have spared me, had the roles been reversed. I looked over my shoulder at my parents. My dad had been crossing the yard, but he never would’ve been in time to stop me. My mother was crying, holding her hands to her chest in relief. Wordlessly, with one last glance at my brother, I started to walk out of town.

I walked away that day with renewed purpose. Families were being torn apart by this war, just like mine was. And all because Ulfric Stormcloak had dreams of grandeur. Now, when someone asks me why I fight, I can tell them. I fight for the brothers and sisters spilling their shared blood in the Skyrim snow, just like I almost did. I fight to make sure no one raises a weapon against their own blood the way I did. I fight, for my brother.