A / N: This is my first fanfiction of Skyrim. There are several references to the Morrowind game, so those who have played the game can probably recognize some of the references and for those that is not the case, explanations will come in the next chapters. I want to say that the pace of the story is rather slow, so be patient please and I hope you enjoy my story!
PS: English is not my first language so it is possible that I made some mistakes.
Chapter 1 Welcome to Windhelm
The cracking of the ice in contact with moldy wood of the ship broke the silence of the night, the boat advanced through the multitude of floating obstacles and was headed slowly towards the port. On board, refugees eagerly awaited for the end of their long journey. For most of them, leaving their homeland was a difficult choice, but it was necessary. Families reassured each other, convinced that everything would go for the better, but uncertainty prevailed among them and only increase over time.
While other passengers sought out comfort, a troubled soul stood apart from the others, creating a feeling of distrust towards lonely man with a piercing gaze. He remained frozen like a statue while staring at the old town. When an icy wind brushed the corner of his face, he hid his bandaged hands in his black robe; the lightweight fabric was not the wisest choice for such climate.
With a trembling hand, he pulled out a crumpled letter from his pocket, which he had read many times during his trip,but the simple fact of reading it repeatedly reassured him, as if he needed to convince himself that the words in it were true and not some cruel farce. The passage that obsessed him the most was the confirmation of his recovery, sure it was not complete since his illness was incurable in theory, but through the research of a powerful wizard, he now had the chance to start a new life, far from the troubles of Morrowind: he could walk in the crowded cities without the risk of spreading this terrible decease and his symptoms were almost completely gone. Even if he had some memory losses of the past years, he didn't show any signs of strange behavior or violence and was now considered sane by his caretaker. The last physical signs of the disease were well hidden under bandages: the more virulent scars remained on his arms, legs and the left side of his face, including his eye that was now a white pearl color in opposite to the right one, which had remained red. After all the misfortunes he had gone through in the past, all the man wanted was to settle down for a while, read his precious books and sit next to a warm fireplace.
When he arrived at the city, he could see two guards standing there, waiting for the boat to dock. They sighed loudly as they started to check the newcomers and their luggage: they clearly would have preferred to be drinking mead at the tavern instead of doing the checkup routine, but somebody had to do this job and they were the unlucky ones chosen to do it that night. Most passengers passed before them without any problem until one of two soldiers drew his attention on the solitary man; he elbowed his colleague and whispered something before pointing in the stranger's direction. They both stepped toward the shady character and one of them demanded to see the elf's identification papers, which was required for anyone who wished to enter Skyrim. After searching in his bag under the stern gaze of the guards, the man finally took out the papers and waited patiently to be interrogated by the two men.
"You don't have a last name, elf?" Asked one of the Nords after glancing quickly at the document.
"I do not have a family and I am not married. People in general simply call me by my name." Calmly replied the Dunmer, while avoiding the gaze of the people passing by. "Which is Vedreth, right? ... You elves and your strange names... but one thing still bothers me..."
"What is it? " Said the elf a shaky voice.
"What are you hiding under all those bandages?" Asked his colleague while peering at the elf from head to toe. Tensing at the question, the Dunmer's started to panic, a queasy feeling got over his stomach: he had to quickly find a way to explain those without any mention of the disease. Although lying is not usually the right way to get out of a predicament, he was short of time and ideas...
"So? " Said the guard impatiently.
"Injuries ..." Finally answered the elf, "I fought with bandits shortly before taking the boat. There was at least seven against me; I could not take all of them without getting a few wounds."
This answer greatly surprised the two men: they did not expect a frail elf such as Vedreth not only to have the courage to confront criminals, but to take a group of bandits alone and then be able to share the story was quite an achievement! With such confession, both Nords suddenly forgot the previous question and wanted to get more details about the battle. Seeing that his trickery had worked like a charm, the man smiled slyly at the two naïve guards: they reminded him of two children waiting to hear a story of adventures from their father. It was almost charming... With beautiful and well-chosen words, he told them a story as extraordinary as those you can read in great novels. Unsurprisingly, the two men seemed to believe him: each new detail only fueled the imagination and the enthusiasm of the listeners.
Once the lie was well-exploited, Vedreth, quite proud of himself, politely asked permission to pass, which was immediately granted. However, before he could even take two steps, he heard the voice of one of the men asked:
"Wait elf! Before you go, I have to inspect your bag. Mere formality."
The Dunmer face paled, but he obeyed the order and placed his bag on the ground while subtly concealing a smaller one under his cape. Trying to hide his nervousness, the elf remained remote, watching the guards examine the contents of the bag, but they only found a pile of dusty old books, mostly about old spells that only a mage could appreciate. At the sight of these, both men looked at each other with an expression of disgust and confusion: their new hero was a mage ... What a disappointment... -
Shortly after leaving the docks, the elf cursed his lack of judgment: he completely forgot to ask for directions to get to the nearest inn. Most of the houses resembled each other; moreover the stone walls protecting the city cloistered the streets in a labyrinth of ice and rock.
He walked in circles for at least twenty minutes, wandering from street to street in a hasty pace when suddenly, he heard people conversing not far away from his location. As he followed the direction of the voices, the harsh tone quickly warned him of a possible dispute: he placed a hand close to his dagger just in case. When he arrived at the scene, his suspicions were confirmed: two Nords were tormenting a dark elf in the middle of the street.
The smaller one was clearly drunk and pathetically releasing his anger on his victim. Standing beside him was a brutish man wearing ragged clothes, arms crossed and inflating his chest to appear more intimidating to the poor woman.
"Damned-gray skin, you refused to fight in the war and you pollute our streets. Why don't you just go back to Morrowind!" Yelled the little man, waving his bottle of Ale at the elf.
"They are probably imperial spies: that is why they refuse to fight at our side." Added the strong brute.
"Imperial spies?! You can't be serious!" Replied the young woman in shock.
"How about we pay her a little at night? I'm sure this little mouse here will sing if there's a knife next to her throat." Said the drunkard with a darkly smile.
At that moment, the stranger stepped next to the woman and sent a threatening glance at the two men. "Is there a problem here?" Asked the newcomer, keeping a steady hand on his well-hidden weapon.
The two Nords looked at the stranger for a moment and then exchanged a glance: there was no point to heat things up and get the attention of the guards for some miserable Dunmers. They took different paths to walk away and one of them yelled before leaving:
"Do not think we're done with you, the elf! I will find you in your dirty slum!"
Once the shock passed, the woman let out a sigh of relief before turning her attention to her rescuer.
"Thank you, I do not think I would have made it out that easily without your intervention."
"Two charming rascals ..." the man said sarcastically. "Do they often harass you this way?"
The woman rolled her eyes with exasperation: obviously, this was not her first experience with this kind of treatment. "I've had worse, but Rolff is relentless in making our life miserable ... As if we don't have enough troubles already ..."
The stranger's appearance only stroked her after she took a good look at his face. As a Dunmer herself, it was much easier for her to notice the sickly pale skin of the man compared to the rest of her kind: a detail that had escaped the guards 'attention earlier. However, her calm state indicated that she had no clue of the illness afflicting the elf, but she still kept her distance.
"Are you feeling well? I don't want to be offensive, but you look rather pale mister..."
"You can call me Vedreth. I-huh..am a bit exhausted from my trip. Since you're here, you can probably help a poor traveler like me: I'm new to this town and am looking for the nearest inn."
This request turned the woman's attention away from man's the face: her gaze was directed toward the house located in the center of the square.
"This is Candlehearth Hall, a well-reputed inn, but I doubt that you will manage to get a room ... Let's just say the owner doesn't have a soft spot for our kind."
The newcomer was greatly discouraged: was there anything good for Dunmers in this province? Starting with freezing weather, then followed by hostilities locals and now he had no place to spend the night ... He ran a hand through his long ebony hair while searching for a solution.
On her part, the woman felt some empathy for the elf: it was not easy to arrive in a new city, especially one as Windhelm. She could not let one of her kind sleep in the street …especially a sick one...
"There might be a solution…I happen to know the owner of the tavern in the Grey Quarter ... I can try to convince him to host you for the night."
The woman's offer seemed to relieve the foreigner who smiled warmly in return. At that moment, his skin complexion seemed healthier: some fine lines appeared on the corner of his eyes and a blush tinted his cheeks. He was certainly good-looking.
"Thank you for your kindness, my lady. May I ask your name?"
"Suvaris Atheron, sir."
"Then lead the way, Suvaris." Replied Vedreth, offering his arm to the blushing women. She hesitated a moment, but ended up taking it and they both started to walk toward the Grey Quartier.