A/N: Merry Christmas. This isn't a fluffy Christmas story, however. This is a companion fic to Beneath the Sky. This is my villain's back-story and it's not very pretty. After much consideration, I decided to post it.

TRIGGER WARNING: Contains spousal abuse, and a single instance of child abuse.

Black Skies

Amalie brushed her wheat-blonde hair, her hands shaking slightly. She pulled at the dry strands but didn't bother trying to shape them into something pretty. She let them hang down, and sighed.

Everything would be fine. Her father promised.

Haldis Half-hand was a fine man, she had been told. He came from a wealthy family, knew his manners, and knew how to care for his house.

Arranged marriages weren't traditional in Skyrim anymore, but her father didn't care. She didn't know what was best for her, she was assured. Haldis was a fine Nord.

The door opened behind her and her mother entered. Her mother was a fussy woman with an upturned nose and a quick demeanor. She looked her daughter up and down. "You expect to go to your wedding looking like that?"

Next thing Amalie knew, the ties on her elaborate dress were getting yanked tighter and her hair was getting plaited to the side. When her mother finished, she stepped back and investigated her daughter.

"Mother," Amalie choked out.

Her mother stepped forward and wrapped her daughter in her arms, but that was the only mercy she would give. She stepped away and lifted the veil from where it was discarded on a chair. She placed it on her daughter's head. "I don't even know him," Amalie whispered quietly.

Her mother offered no answer. "Wait here. I will come and get you when it is time."

Amalie paced back and forth, wishing it was time, wishing she could get it over with. Her mind flashed to what would happen tonight and she stuffed the thoughts away.

After what felt like eternity her mother returned. The world turned surreal, as though Amalie was walking to her death. Then her hands were being taken by a man she didn't recognize and she was at an altar and a priest of Mara was speaking and she was looking at the man and studying his face through her veil. He was at least twice her age. He squeezed her hands as though to offer comfort. That was kind. Maybe this wouldn't be as bad as she thought.

She saw his lips move with an "I do."

She came alert enough to hear the preacher ask her a question, and she knew what that question meant and everything it would entail and she didn't want to, she didn't want to, she didn't want to, but still, "I do."

The man – Haldis – lifted her veil and she was looking into his eyes, and then one of his hands was behind her neck and other on her cheek and he was leaning forward and their lips met, and it was a kiss, nothing more, nothing less.

Clapping filled the room and he smiled at her gently, and she gave a relieved smile back. Maybe it would be okay.

The reception was filled with relatives of both families offering congratulations – as though she had wanted this. She was on his arm the whole time and found herself leaning on him when his family came near and staying close, not afraid of him. She was his. He had a reassuring presence to her.

She was exhausted by the end of the night, when he helped her into the carriage. He was driving and she sat beside him. The air was cooling. "Where are we going?" she asked tiredly, the most she had spoken to him that day.

"My home, about eight miles away. You will like it there, I think."

She nodded and rested his head on his shoulder and closed her eyes and he didn't seem to mind. They left Solitude and her family behind.

They arrived an hour later at a manor at the base of a mountain and he led her in and offered her a brief tour and then he was leading her into his bedroom and she wanted to rest but she knew she would get none tonight.

She awoke the next morning bare-skinned in his bed, under his sheets, tucked against his body, her head on his shoulder. There was pain in her but guilt more so, because she enjoyed the night more than she ever thought she would. She didn't even know this man.

He awoke and touched her face gently and then got up and dressed and she followed suit. She went into his kitchen, because she knew what a wife was supposed to do, and she cooked him his breakfast and so began their lives together.

"You're weak for a Nord woman."

Amalie stared at her husband questioningly. They'd been married a few weeks. She shrugged apologetically.

He scowled. "Most Nord woman would defend themselves at that."

She glanced at him. "I don't know what you want me to say."

He didn't answer her. Was she a disappointment? Did it matter?

She left, looking for something in the house to clean, to soothe her boredom. She hummed as she dusted the small library with a rag. She ran her fingers over the books. She wanted to read them, but Haldis told her she shouldn't. She wasn't sure why.

"Did I upset you?"

She turned around to see Haldis in the doorway. She shook her head. "No. It's all right. Do you want me to be stronger?"

He went to her and kissed her forehead gently. "Stay just the way you are."

She nodded. "May I read a book?"

He turned his eyes to the shelf and picked a book. The Marksmanship Lesson. He gave it to her.

She took it and went to the main hall and settled down at the table, placing the book in front of her. Her family didn't let her read often, so she struggled with the words. She didn't like it immediately. It started with slaves and whippings and what nice book started with that?

She scowled at the ending. "Haldis?"

He came over. "Yes, dear?"

"What happened?"

He looked over her shoulder and read the ending. "Dob got Wodilic to hit Brin."

She frowned. "Yes, but what about after that? What did Wodilic do? Did all the slaves escape?"

Haldis laughed. "Silly girl. Nothing else happened. It's fiction. It ends where it ends."

She wasn't amused so he brought her a different book. The Oblivion Crisis. "This one is a true story."

She took it and opened it up and struggled slowly through the words. "Haldis?" she called.

"Yes, dear?"

"What is that word?"

"Assassinated."

"You mean they killed him?"

"Yes."

"Why are there so many books about death?"

"Because everybody dies."

That was a morbid thought so she went back to the book. At least the ending was happy.

"Haldis?"

"Yes, love?"

"Is it true the Avatar of Akatosh is still standing in the temple in the Imperial City?"

"I believe so."

"Can we see it one day?"

"Perhaps. Do you want another book?"

"No, I'm tired."

"Go lay down. I'll join you in an hour or so."

Amalie was frustrated. She had been married several months. She took every bottle of wine and mead and ale and put it in a basket and carried it outside. Haldis had left to go to the city for some business. Most of his wealth was inherited, so he only had to go to the city occasionally. She was never sure why he went.

He was bored last night and she could give him nothing to entertain him so he drank until he was so drunk he was shouting and screaming and making all sorts of ruckus. And then he lost his temper with her. The proof was in deep purple marks on her arms and cheek.

She set the basket down and lifted a bottle. She chucked it as hard as she could against a tree, where it shattered into a hundred pieces, the liquid spraying everywhere. It felt nice.

This continued until every single bottle was smashed.

She returned to the house, content with her job, and picked a random book off the shelf and took it to read.

The door opened and Haldis entered and looked at her without a word. She looked up and they stared at each other in silence for a short time.

"What is that mess by the tree?" he asked quietly.

Guilt started to set in but she pushed it away. "I got rid of all the drink."

"Why?"

She raised her bruise-covered arm. "You hurt me last night."

"Come here."

She did so, approaching him cautiously. There was nothing in his expression to give away his thoughts. She looked up at him meekly, not as brave as she was before.

He struck her across the face so hard her knees gave way and she hit the floor. She looked up at him weakly, tears stinging in her eyes. "Haldis…"

"Go to the bedroom," he commanded her. "Now."

She went to the bedroom and sat down on the bed, unsure of what would happen next. He came into the doorway and stared at her, fury on his face. He closed the door and she heard the lock click.

She stared for a long moment before going to the door and trying to open it. "Haldis!" she cried out through tears. No answer.

Hours passed, waiting silently in the bedroom to be let out. There were no books to satisfy her boredom and she could not sleep.

Finally, Haldis returned but he had no apology to give, so she gave one instead. He seemed to forgive her.

Amalie rested her hand on her slightly protruding stomach. Her relationship with Haldis was rocky. On some days they loved each other and had gentle banter, and he would give her books to read and teach her what words meant. Some days he gave her a paper and a quill and helped her write letters to her family.

And other days he screamed and yelled and hurt her and she didn't dare fight or resist, for fear of making it worse.

"It's a boy, Haldis," she called out gently.

"How do you know?"

"I can feel it."

He came over to her and stroked her hair and kissed her head. "Good girl."

And she was right. A few months later and she was holding a baby boy in her arms. "Eleutherius," Haldis said. "His name will be Eleutherius."

Haldis grew angry more often as the baby cried so often. Amalie protected her son. She took the heat of his rages and kept Eleutherius out of sight when the anger came. No longer did her protection or safety or happiness matter. All that mattered was little Eleutherius.

Eleutherius waddled over to his mother and put his hand on her stomach. "Baby, mama?"

"Yes, Eleutherius," she told him and kissed his forehead. He was just three years old, with thick brown hair and wide eyes.

"Good. My brother?"

"Yes."

"Where's Pa?"

"At the city."

"Why?"

"You should ask him when he gets back."

Eleutherius climbed into her lap. "I love you, Mama."

"I love you too, darling."

Eleutherius grabbed Wuunferth by the hand and took off running into their bedroom. Their father was screaming again. Wuunferth had been born four years ago. Eleutherius was seven.

Eleutherius dove beneath the bed, dragging his brother with him. "Why do we have to hide?" the littler one asked in a whisper.

"Because Pa is angry and he hits when he's angry."

"What if he hurts Mama?"

"It's her fault he's angry. He's allowed to hurt her."

"Is he allowed to hurt us?"

"No. That's why he has Mama."

"But I don't want Mama to get hurt."

"Get over it. She's stronger than you are."

"Oh."

Finally, the shouting subsided. "Can we come out?" Wuunferth asked quietly.

"No. We have to wait for Mama to come get us."

The door opened and footsteps came and their mother's face appeared to them. Wuunferth dove at her. "Mama!"

The anger hadn't come for months. Wuunferth was too young to have understood what was happening before. Now, he was confused, as his eyes opened to the world.

Amalie held her children in her lap and rocked them back and forth and kissed them. They hung on. "Why, Mama?" Wuunferth asked simply.

She kissed him but had no answer to give. "Are you two ready for bed?"

"Can I say good night to Pa?" Wuunferth asked. Eleutherius' eyes asked the same.

Amalie shook her head sadly. "No. Pa is tired. You shouldn't disturb him."

She tucked the children into their beds and kissed them goodnight. "Can you tell us a bedtime story?"

Amalie sat down on Wuunferth's bed. Eleutherius turned over to watch and listen. "Once upon a time there were two young boys who lived in a manor in Skyrim. They were ordinary boys at first glance, playing and reading and learning.

"One day, a messenger came to them with a note from a King. The note said that they were actually princes!"

"But what about their parents who lived with them?" Eleutherius questioned.

"Their father was not their father, but their mother was. Their real father was a king, in another land far away from Tamriel."

"There are lands beyond Tamriel?" Wuunferth asked.

"Yes, dear. In another land, the princes and the mother got to live in a big castle. The boys played every day and they got to learn all sorts of new things."

Wuunferth let out a big yawn. "Can we go to a castle, Mama? But bring Pa?"

"Close your eyes," she told him. He did so. "Now imagine the biggest castle you can. And imagine all the fun things you could do there. You can go there without ever leaving this room."

Wuunferth closed his eyes and he was asleep. Amalie stood and went to Eleutherius' bed and sat down with him. "Are you all right?"

"Why do you have to make him angry?" he demanded.

She sighed. "You'll understand when you're older," she told him and kissed his forehead. "You aren't too old to imagine too, you know."

"I want to be a hero when I grow up."

"Then you will be. You'll be whatever you want."

That contented him. He closed his eyes and slept.

Twelve-year-old Eleutherius stumbled into the house, his eyes wide, his face pale. "Something just happened," he stuttered out.

Wuunferth looked at him expectantly. His mother stood up, worried. "What is it, boy?" his father asked.

He lifted his hand and concentrated – and then it filled with flame.

Wuunferth shouted and fell out of his seat. His mother staggered backward. His father's eyes darkened. "Where'd you learn that?"

Sensing danger, Eleutherius shut off the flame. "I don't know. I was just thinking about the cold and how I'd like a fire and then my hand was warm and there was fire there. I don't know what's happening!"

His father came to him. "My son – a Nord – should not be doing magic!" His hand struck him across the face, knocking the boy to the ground. Wuunferth gasped. Their mother screamed.

In the next moment Eleutherius was lifted by his mother and thrown towards his room. He looked back to see his mother actually push back his father. "You will not touch my son!"

Eleutherius sensed the storm that was coming. He grabbed his brother's hand like he had many a time before but he wasn't heading towards his room this time. They shot out the front door.

"Shouldn't we protect Mama?" Wuunferth asked helplessly.

"We can't!" Eleutherius said, running towards a rock formation. They ducked down into it. "We need to wait. If he comes, we'll run again."

They could hear faint screaming from the house. It wasn't just their father shouting this time. Their mother was screaming. She never screamed. She took the pain in silence.

Eleutherius brought his hand forward and lit a fire in it. Wuunferth winced. "Cut that out."

"I bet you could do it too."

Wuunferth shook his head. "I don't wanna."

Eleutherius shrugged. "I think it's magic. Like they do in Winterhold."

"Nords don't do magic."

"Who says?"

"Pa."

"Pa is more monster than anything."

"Can you use the fire to protect Mama?"

"Ma can take care of herself."

When the screaming subsided, they waited longer before they emerged from their hiding place, but they did not return to the house. Instead, they traveled down to the small stream and skipped rocks.

They heard footsteps behind them, but not the heavy ones of their father. They turned to see their mother. Her face looked horrible: swollen, bruised, and bleeding. She reached them and wrapped them in her arms.

Wasn't there such thing as a healing spell?

Eleutherius pulled away and focused, thinking of repairing the wounds on his mother. His hand lit with golden light. His mother stared at him, and he willed it towards her. She closed her eyes.

The swelling went away, the bruising faded, and the cuts healed. She let out a content sigh. "Oh, son."

"Should I never do this again?"

"You should," she said immediately. "Whatever you do, don't stop. You have a talent. Use it. Learn it. But never around your father."

Eleutherius nodded. "Even if he tells me not to ever?"

"Even if," she answered.

He nodded again and returned to her arms.

A little ways from the house, Wuunferth used all of his concentration to form a fire in his hand. The flame flickered in and out. Not as good as Eleutherius, but he could do it.

Eleutherius played with the fire spell, lighting grass on fire and then putting it out with his hands.

Eleutherius was eighteen. Wuunferth was fifteen. Wuunferth could do a little magic, but Eleutherius taught himself how to make a frost spell, a shock spell, and telekinesis – he could pull objects from a distance towards him.

When they woke up that morning, it felt like any other day. Their father was in a fine mood – not particularly good, but it didn't seem he would lose his temper today. Their mother seemed tired but she said she was fine. Yet this day was not any day, and everything was about to change.

They heard their mother approaching before she reached them. She held a knapsack in her shaking hands. "Boys."

They went to her and Eleutherius took the knapsack. "What's this?"

She took a deep, shuddering breath. "There is enough food to last about a week; dried meats and all that. There's also three hundred septims."

Eleutherius stared at her. Wuunferth frowned. "What's going on?" the younger one asked.

"I want you to go."

"Go where?" Eleutherius asked darkly.

"Winterhold. The college."

Wuunferth shook his head. "No. No, we can't go. We can't just go. Is father okay with this?"

"He doesn't know," she answered, and it didn't surprise either of the brothers. "He would never let you study magic. You have to go."

Wuunferth was still shaking his head when Eleutherius put the knapsack over his shoulder. "Do you know the best way to go?"

"Head east. If you follow the roads, they'll lead you there."

"Thank you," Eleutherius said, earnestly. He knew what this was and what it meant and why it had to happen. "I'll take care of Wuunferth."

"I wouldn't expect anything less."

Wuunferth was shaking his head again. "No. No. No. No. I don't want to go."

Amalie wrapped him in his arms and he hung onto her. She kissed his forehead. "You'll be fine."

That was enough for Eleutherius. He grabbed his brother's wrist and tugged him. "Let's go."

Wuunferth didn't want it. But their mother watched them go and then they were gone.