PROLOGUE

Not so humble beginnings

The carriage was rocking uncomfortable beneath me. My surprisingly full body was covered in a dark blue dress which almost blended in with my grey-bluish skin. As a contrast against my dark skin and dress, my hair had a golden red colour. It almost seemed to glow as it flowed down my back. In my lap was a thick leather bound book opened. The words were in the language of Skyrim, which seemed to upset my father who was sat next to me.

The name I carried was Tonaenziah Morvayn and I was fifteen springs old. I was the daughter of Fatyene and Ethlo Morvayn. Ethlo, my father, was the brother of Lleril Morvayn, the first councillor and Redoran representative in Raven Rock. It was never Father's job to become a councillor. He was the second born, Lleril being the older brother. However, Lleril kept Father around as an advisor. This was much to my joy, since it offered our family opportunities to travel all over Tamriel on political quests. As an overly curious young woman, this was fantastic. If, however, my teacher allowed me to take a break from my studies.

If I was to complain about my life, I'd be a fool. Life was good. During the days, I'd be taught history, magic, alchemy, writing, and reading by my teacher, Master Athres. Master Athres was an old and wise Dumner, and he had taught many children before me. He sparked my love for learning. Every now and again my father would mutter that it was unnatural to be as curious as I was, but to that my mother would playfully swat his arm.

During the evenings, I'd either read in the light of the fireplace or assist Mother with for my brother. For a long time, I was an only child since Mother seemed to be unable to become with child after birthing me. However, four winters ago, a small bump appeared on her otherwise flat stomach. A child was growing inside her. My brother, who was now three summers old. His name was Tirnle. It seemed my parents were fond of names beginning with the letter T.

Tirnle was resting against Mother's soft body as the carriage continued to make progress towards our destination. It seemed like the roads in Skyrim were rougher and less refined than those in Raven Rock. Though the rest of my family seemed to dislike the cold, I wasn't bothered by it. Master Athres had taught me a very useful spell when it was mentioned that we were going to Skyrim. It enveloped the caster in a warm cocoon, keeping him or her from experiencing cold and instead provided a pleasant feeling of sinking into warm bed.

"Are we there soon?" Mother asked quitely to not disturb Tirnle. "And Tone, put away the book. You've been reading since we left the ship."

Reluctantly, I closed the book and placed it in my knapsack. There wasn't a lot in it. Simply a few books, another dress along with my dagger. No one knew that I had it there, I had stolen it from Raven Rock's blacksmith. It wasn't for protection, we always had life guards with us. I simply liked to have it. It fuelled the fantasy of that I was an adventurer instead of a noble's daughter.

"It will take us another day's journey to reach Whiterun." Father said as he traced a long, slim finger across the map of Skyrim. Whiterun was located somewhere in the middle of the map, I recalled. "However, we are approaching our overnight halt." With that, Father put away the map. He had a tendency to make every action look overly dramatic.

Not long after those words had been uttered, the carriage came to a halt. The door was opened and a gust of cold wind flew into the carriage. Swiftly, I cast the spell and relaxed as it warmed me. The sun was setting, but it was still fairly bright outside. With wide eyes, I got out of the carriage and looked at the forest around us. The trees stood tall and green, reaching towards the darkening sky. The ground was covered in a thin layer of snow. Thinner than that in Windhelm, I noted. It felt so different under my shoes, compared to the sand of Raven Rock.

Our lifeguards were already busy with erecting the tents as well as lighting the fireplace. There were three of them and they were all Nords. It was more difficult than I liked to admit to tear my eyes away from them. Unlike Dunmers, the Nords had board shoulders, rough features and a more compact body type. Most suited to a cold climate. One of them even had armour without sleeves, while my family had dressed in every warm clothing item they could get their hand on.

"Let's leave this forsaken land soon enough." Mother sighed as she placed a hat on Tirnle's head before allowing him onto the ground to examine the snow. One part of them wished I was still young and it would still be acceptable for me to drop to my knees in order to feel the snow against my palms.

The evening was spent with the guards drinking mead, Mother in her and Father's tent to keep away from the cold. Father was conversing with the carriage driver, who was once again explaining the route and ensuring that the way they had chosen was safe. We had all heard the stories of Skyrim's bandits. Outlaws with a want to plunder all travellers of their coin and defile all daughters. However, I assumed they were just rumours. It wasn't possible that there were people like that.

As I went to bed, I was excited for the day to come. Tomorrow, I'd see Whiterun, the city I had only read about and seen illustrations of. Apparently the Jarl's housecarl was a Dunmer. With my stomach filled with rabbit stew, I curled into my bedroll and my thoughts drifted off to fantasises of tomorrow's adventures. At the moment, I didn't know that we would never arrive.

I was awoken while it was still dark outside. It didn't take me more than a few moments to realise what had woken me. There was shouting and the sound of metal hitting metal outside our tent. Tirnle looked at me with large, scared eyes. Just like mine, his eyes were milky white. When we boarded the Northern Maiden, one of the sailors had asked if we were blind.

Before I could reach over to pull my brother into my arms to comfort him, the tent was torn down. The scene in the clearing would forever be in my memory. The guards lay dead in the snow, several limbs missing from each. The carriage driver was dead as well. My parents were on their knees, held down by a large man each, and both had a dagger pressed against their necks. A large Orc walked up to me. Two long tusk like teeth were sticking out from his lower jaw and his head was shaved. With an ugly grin on his even uglier face, he crouched down in front of me.

"Pretty little elf." He said and stroke over my hair, tugging it gently. His breath smelled of death and I turned my face away. With a chuckle, he stood up. "The chief will like this one. Kill the others."

The old fort looked like it was about to crumble. As the large Orc guided me through the halls, I wondered how on earth someone could live there. The answer came sooner than expected as we walked down the stairs until we reached the lower levels and entered a large room.

There was a large fire roaring by the far end, and there was a massive table in the middle of the room. It was filled with food of all kinds. Stews, meat, mead, sweetrolls, crème treats, roasted leeks and potatoes. Feasting on the food were more bandits than I was able to count. With his back against me, a man in a heavy steel armour sat. It was of better quality and less damaged than the other's armour, which lead me to believe that this was the chief.

"Chief." The Orc said, confirming my suspicions. The chief turned around. His rough face was surrounded by blond, dirty hair and there were bread crumbles in his beard. There was a large scar tracing from his left ear down to the left corner of his mouth. "What do you think?"

As he spoke the last sentence, I was pushed forward and my hair was yanked back in order for my face to be exposed to the larger man. A yelp of pain flew over my lips. It felt as if the Orc's rough grip would tear the hair from my scalp, or break my neck. Whichever came first. As we travelled here, I had come to accept the fact that I would soon die. It didn't bother me too much. As long as I wasn't left here.

"Let's see here..." The room had now fallen quiet and all eyes were on the large Nord as he walked up to me. A gloved hand grabbed my cheeks, squeezing them lightly. "Nice face for an elf. But she's wearing too many clothes!" The last statement caused the room to erupt in howls of laughter.

Forcing me onto my feet again, the Orc grabbed a dagger and ran it down my body, starting at my neck. I could feel the sharp, cold edge drag along my skin. Once the tip reached the small of my back, it was sheathed again. With a strong pull, the dress tore apart from the end of the long cut and fell to the floor, barely usable as rags now. I stood there, in the cold fort, naked in front of howling bandits.

"Boys, the dessert has arrived!"

The next five years of my life would forever leave me scarred, both physically and mentally. I was the bandits' toy. Something for them to take out their aggression and frustration. I made attempts to escape several times, but I was always stopped. In order to keep me under control, I was kept weak and was constantly given a poison to weaken my magic skills. I was in a cage which as much of an ability to escape as a rabbit. There were days when I begged them to kill me. However, that day never came.

One morning, not long after my twentieth summer alive, I was woken up to screams, shouts, and metal clashing together with metal. This wasn't how it sounded when the bandits were practising against one another. No, this was different. I edged closer to the bars. A blonde Nord woman with a large double handed sword was battling the chief. The other bandits lay dead around them. Then, with a last powerful stab, the man who had made my life a horror, was dead.

After sheathing her sword, the woman looked around. It took a while before she noticed me as I sat leaned against the bars, too frightened to make an attempt to get her attention. A few moments earlier her face had been filled with anger and hunger for the fight. But now, it was soft. Without a word, she unlocked the door. Still frightened, I started move backwards in the cage.

"I don't want to hurt you." She said as the door swung open and she stepped inside. With her hands raised, she came over to me and untied my hands.

"I'm Mjoll." There was a smile on her lips as she shrugged off her backpack and withdrew some clothes for me to put on. "Who are you?"

With a cautious look on my face still, I grabbed the clothes. I didn't trust her. However, I didn't really have a choice. Now that the bandits were dead, I could escape, but I wouldn't survive more than a few days in the wild. If even that.

"I'm T-" I changed my mind. Tonaenziah Morvayn had died in the clearing along with her family. "I'm Raven. Raven Foyada."