"I don't care what the White-Gold says," he said loudly, "we have no rights telling people who or who not they can worship."
"So then you believe Talos is a Divine, Father?" Lillium asked teasingly.
"If he is or he isn't is not the issue. The issue is that if a Nord wants to preach his legend, then let him preach! It's how he was raised! It's what he truly believes!"
I chuckled lightly. My father was always going off about one political issue or another. I cared little for it.
Let me introduce myself. My name is Raige. I will not tell you my family name, lest someone… undesirable gets a hold of this.
But allow me to tell you about myself. By Altmer standards, I look nothing special. I'm average height, (for a High Elf, obviously.) have standard yellow-green eyes, but my hair is darker then most. I am skilled in magic, I can't shoot to save my life, and I am unparalleled with a sword. In Summerset, you would barely give me a second glance.
However, I have stuck out like a horse in a sheepfold for some while now. Of course, an Altmer in Skyrim is bound to catch… looks, not all of them friendly. But it's more then that, as you might already know.
I wasn't always Dovahkiin. Well, I was, but you know what I mean. I was someone before I crossed the borders of Skyrim. Let me tell you my tale.
My father was a good man. He believed that whatever race you were, you had just as much right to live as he did. However, he was not a doing man. He would complain, but he would rarely take action. I get my boring, standard Elven features from him. He was tall, thin, with a bony face and yellow eyes.
My sister, Lillium, was another story. She had a beautiful face, with white blonde hair and amber eyes. She was conniving, but loyal. When given a challenge, she didn't back down. Like me, Lillium didn't care for father's politics. She only saw the problems around her as relevant. She and I were best friends, and I always wish she could have seen this.
As for me, I'm a fan of irony. That's why I wear stolen Nightingale armor. My father's last words were the biggest irony of my entire life.
"I never want you girls to be like me." He said seriously, "Don't make yourselves a big name, especially in the way I have. Some people really hate me. I want you two to live normal lives. Have your own houses, get married, maybe even possibly have children. I know I'm one to talk, but take my advice. It doesn't pay to be famous."
Lillium and I laughed and gave our promises as father opened a bottle of wine. By the Gods, if I could go back to that moment…
After one drink he fell off his chair, gagging.
"Father!" we screamed, by his side in an instant. We both tried Healing Hands, but it was too late. We were wasting magicka on a dead body.
"No, no, no, Father." I was unable to control my tears. Lillium picked up the wine bottle and sniffed it.
"Nightshade, deathbell, and… something, I don't know what…" It didn't matter. Our father was dead.
Lillium always thought it was the Thalmor. Perhaps they didn't want him spreading his ideas, she would say. At first I didn't buy it, but I know better now. I have no proof, but I don't doubt it.
It was Lillum's idea to go to Skyrim. She was afraid we were next. She always did have her ear to the ground.
We had finally crossed the border and we had been walking on the road for, say an hour. We walked right into the ambush. We fought the Imperials, but we only had knives and destruction spells, and we weren't very good with them. Perhaps if we didn't fight, things would have been different. After all, we were Altmer, and these were Stormcloaks.
Anyway, I got bashed by someone's sword pommel. That's why I have this scar. I woke up in this wooden carriage, and Lillium was nowhere to be seen. I haven't seen her since. I suppose you know the rest. Helgan, and this whole Dragonborn mess.
Sorry, father, I never got to have that normal life.
I am Raige Dovahkiin.
I fight and travel in the hope I will find Lillium again.