When Hadvar and Abigail arrived at his uncle's house, the lady of the house – Hadvar had said her name was Sigrid – took one look at them both and cried out, dragging them inside, demanding to know what had happened and if they had any injuries that needed an alchemist.
Abigail watched her fussing about them through a haze, as she was seated at a bench, and Hadvar beside her.
“Dorthe, boil some water, and find your father,” Sigrid commanded to a small girl Abigail hadn't noticed before. The little girl nodded and busied herself near the hearth.
“Sigrid, it's all right,” Hadvar assured her. “We just need some rest. We look worse than we are.”
Sigrid huffed and pointed at Abigail, but addressed Hadvar still. “And you want me to believe that's all someone else's blood on your young officer there?”
Without waiting for an answer, she disappeared downstairs.
Abigail wondered just how bad she looked, and her eyes fell. She stared at her hands a moment. They were caked in grime, gore, mud, and sweat. Her fingernails were tattered and dark.
“Was it a big battle?” the little girl – Dorthe – was by Abigail's side, holding a pitcher of steaming water.
Abigail looked down at her, at her expectant face, and wide eyes, and she gulped back the tears all over again. Voice fled, she simply nodded.
“It was a huge battle,” Hadvar leaned across, and Dorthe's attention snapped to him.
“Dorthe don't pester them,” Sigrid returned, shushing her daughter away. “And go find your father.”
The girl raced off with an expectant glance at Hadvar – his cousin, Abigail realised.
Sigrid tutted a while longer, trying to gauge their injuries, and after a while Hadvar stood, holding his hands out. “Please, aunty we just need some rest!”
“I know you need rest!” she swatted at his hands. “But if you go to sleep with internal injuries you might wake up dead!”
What she said sunk in after a beat, and Hadvar laughed. Sigrid joined in after a moment, and Abigail just stared between the mad pair.
After their chuckle, Sigrid patted Hadvar on the shoulder instead. “All right, have it your way. But do your old aunt a favour, and drink one of these, hmm?”
She reached into a chest by the table, and withdrew two small red bottles, handing one to Abigail and the other to Hadvar.
“If it will make you feel better,” Hadvar unstoppered the bottle and drank it in one gulp.
Abigail held the little bottle in her open palm, watching Hadvar.
“Go on dear, you as well,” Sigrid urged Abigail kindly.
Abigail nodded, and upended it, the golden liquid lining her throat and making her feel lighter instantly.
“Good,” Sigrid was happier. “Now, dear – what's your name by the way?”
Abigail stumbled to her feet, mortified at being so rude, “I'm - I'm so sorry,” she spluttered. “Abigail. My name is Abigail.”
“She's a junior officer, just started with the group in Whiterun,” Hadvar added easily.
Sigrid half-smiled. “She's very young for an officer.”
“Junior,” Hadvar repeated pointedly.
“I'm not that young,” Abigail scoffed at the same time.
“Right now,” Sigrid continued. “There's some more hot water for you to wash yourself, and bedrolls in the basement when you're ready to rest. If you need anything, you just ask me.”
Abigail nodded obediently, inwardly thrilled to find not one, but two kind people in Skyrim. “Thank you, ma'am.”
“Now Hadvar,” Sigrid turned to him, her arms crossed. “So that the girl can bathe in peace, I'd suggest you head for the river. You smell like death.”
Hadvar groaned and looked to Abigail for help. “But the river's freezing!”
Abigail smiled a little at his tone, wondering just how young he actually was. He certainly sounded young all of a sudden, particularly with Sigrid bossing him around. How odd, that a man could be so many things, all in the space of a couple of hours.
“It's all right,” Abigail felt compelled to speak up. “I can go to the river to bathe and Hadvar can stay here. I'm messier than him anyway--”
Both Sigrid and Hadvar protested at this idea – Sigrid admitting that the river was far too cold for her Imperial blood, and Hadvar saying that it wasn't a good idea when nobody knew who she was. His careful tone reminded Abigail that she had been a prisoner of Skyrim only hours earlier.