Along the way, she met something peculiar. She had spent a night outside of Riverwood, selling a few items from her knapsack to garner some coin but it wasn’t much. After she set off in the morning, allowed to take a cabbage from the cart, she found herself following the road to near the brewery, another split making her choose to go towards Windhelm. She wasn’t an Imperial so she guessed she should be fine with her choice but along the way she met a strange pair.
A Thalmor Agent with sharp eyes and a cruel grin who was walking alongside a young Nord with rosy cheeks. She recognized the Nord, giving her a bow as she was the dragonborn – a legend even to Cyrodiil – and the girl grinned at her, her blade shining with blood.
Hours later she found the source. A ruined tower was covered in bodies, blood spilled on every surface around them to signify the carnage and she stared, a bit horrified. She wanted to doubt it was all done by a single girl but she wasn’t stupid. The dragonborn was powerful and it made her wonder more on why there was a Thalmor Agent with them.
She knew it was wrong but she checked the corpse’s pockets for gold only to find them picked over. She left, the sun high in the sky and she was now looking for a place to sleep during the night, her stomach rumbling in hunger. She ate a piece of bread as she searched, the sulfur marshes to the east of her uninviting as strange noises called out from their depths.
She ended up going back to the tower filled with bodies, finding a bed on the other side that was untouched. She slept, though paranoid, and the cold crept over her skin for the first time in years making her recall her days with her mother in their decrepit home. How she had gotten too accustomed to straw beds and fine woven blankets.
She thought of Brynhilda sharing Siddgeir’s bed and she soured, tugging the furs over her. It wasn’t fair. She had loved him first, she had been loyal to him for over a year, let him bed her, let him control her and now she was sleeping alone on the outskirts of Whiterun while a noblewoman he had known less than a week was marrying him.
She buried her face into the pillow, letting out a noise of frustration. She would get a ring for them but only one and inscribed to her Jarl. His fiancée could buy her own. She wasn’t going to indulge her selfish wish.
The Hardest Part [9/?]
A Thalmor Agent with sharp eyes and a cruel grin who was walking alongside a young Nord with rosy cheeks. She recognized the Nord, giving her a bow as she was the dragonborn – a legend even to Cyrodiil – and the girl grinned at her, her blade shining with blood.
Hours later she found the source. A ruined tower was covered in bodies, blood spilled on every surface around them to signify the carnage and she stared, a bit horrified. She wanted to doubt it was all done by a single girl but she wasn’t stupid. The dragonborn was powerful and it made her wonder more on why there was a Thalmor Agent with them.
She knew it was wrong but she checked the corpse’s pockets for gold only to find them picked over. She left, the sun high in the sky and she was now looking for a place to sleep during the night, her stomach rumbling in hunger. She ate a piece of bread as she searched, the sulfur marshes to the east of her uninviting as strange noises called out from their depths.
She ended up going back to the tower filled with bodies, finding a bed on the other side that was untouched. She slept, though paranoid, and the cold crept over her skin for the first time in years making her recall her days with her mother in their decrepit home. How she had gotten too accustomed to straw beds and fine woven blankets.
She thought of Brynhilda sharing Siddgeir’s bed and she soured, tugging the furs over her. It wasn’t fair. She had loved him first, she had been loyal to him for over a year, let him bed her, let him control her and now she was sleeping alone on the outskirts of Whiterun while a noblewoman he had known less than a week was marrying him.
She buried her face into the pillow, letting out a noise of frustration. She would get a ring for them but only one and inscribed to her Jarl. His fiancée could buy her own. She wasn’t going to indulge her selfish wish.
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