A/N: Hello, readers! If you know my username then likely you know me for Game of Thrones fics. I'm slightly stuck in a rut with that at the moment and decided to branch out into another fandom to get my creativity flowing again. So, here we are, first chapter of my first ever Skyrim fic.

Hope it's an enjoyable read, and enough for you to want more!

Thoughts and comments would be much appreciated.

Until next time.

:)

I

Escape

Hallam made sure to pull the canvas carefully across the back of the wagon before he moved further into the back. Glancing back to check once again that no one could peer in before he shifted the crude straw mattress he slept on aside. Again, he looked back before digging his fingertips into the right spot to ease up the small, loose board. Beneath was the secret compartment he had fashioned years ago, after his third bandit attack in as many weeks.

To the outside, and to the bandits that frequently lined the roads he travelled on, he was a simple merchant selling simple goods. Cloth, ale, some grains and cheese, the odd trinket here and there. It wasn't the most bountiful haul for a group of bandits, but it was enough that they didn't anger and kill him. They didn't know about the compartment though, no one did. Only Hallam himself, and that was the way he would have it stay.

He put the loose board aside and lifted the hem of his tunic to reveal a hidden belt. From that hung a leather pouch, which he drew open. Inside were several gems worth several hundred septims. This was how Hallam made his real coin, and it was always more than enough to compensate for his lost goods on the occasions he was looted by bandits. It happened slightly less frequently now, the Jarls had been putting up plentiful bounty for clearing out bandit clans, and so they stayed away from the main roads more often than not. Still, Hallam would not risk keeping the jewels anywhere other than his secret compartment.

He pulled the leather pouch closed again and fit it into the space, before undoing the hidden belt and stowing it in there as well. Often bandits roughly patted a man down to check for hidden coin purses and the like. Hallam was always careful to keep a few septims in his boot. That way he could look dismayed when they were found, and the bandits would imagine that were all he had to hide. Really, for men and women with such feared reputations, Hallam could not help but think they were rather dense.

Thanks to his secret jewel trade, Hallam had managed to buy himself a modest house on the outskirts of Solitude. It was where he conducted most of his business, unsurprisingly considering it was the most prosperous city in Skyrim. However, every few months or so he would venture out and trade elsewhere, restock supplies of rarer goods found further afield, and get away from the nagging of his wife. Even she believed him a humble merchant, if she knew the truth doubtless she would nag him all the more about the cheap cloth she made her clothes from.

Hallam kept his fortune safe away from her greedy eyes, knowing full well she would be more than capable of spending the lot in the time he was away from home. He had only really married her to stop his mother pecking his head, and he had regretted it ever since. Instead of a mother constantly nagging him, he now had a wife in her place. At least his mother knew how to cook. Hallam sighed, slotting the loose board back into place before moving to clamber down from the back of the wagon.

As his feet found the solid ground he found himself face to face with a young woman. At first his gaze slid past her, not imagining she wanted anything to do with him. His eyes were drawn back though, as he had to look twice at her face. She was beautiful. Though she was dressed plainly, a hood drawn up over her head, he could tell that her features were startling. He knew at once he had never seen her before, a face like that would have been remembered.

"Can I help you, miss?" he asked her, as her eyes cast towards him. They were a shocking blue.

"Where are you headed?" she asked in return.

"Riften," he answered her question.

"How much to catch a ride with you?" she asked next, and he frowned slightly.

It wasn't as though he had never taken a traveller with him before, it was just that there were usually a type – and she fit none of them. Mostly it was young men looking for adventure and fortune. He would charge them between five and ten septims for a ride – depending on how handy they looked with a sword. The more capable they appeared, the cheaper the price. Not that he told them that, of course. The other type were families, they were rarer to pick up, but sometimes the father had found better work in another city. He would charge them more, especially if they had belongings to stow in the wagon as well.

This girl though…He did not even know if he should allow her passage. A beautiful woman was often more trouble than she was worth, and if he were set upon by bandits…Well, it would not just be his goods they made off with. He wondered if she knew that. Riften was on the other side of the country, it would take the best part of four days to get there, and that was if the weather was kind. Really, the girl would be safer staying at home. He took in her plain clothing again. She could not have that much coin, surely?

"Riften?" he scratched at his chin in a thoughtful manner. "Long way Riften…best I can offer is twenty septims, and you'll not find a better deal than that."

She bit her lip, and he imagined she would thank him for the offer, but refuse him.

"Very well," she said after a moment, and he inwardly cursed.

"You have the coin now?" he asked.

"Yes," she said, pulling her cloak aside to reveal a coin purse that was clearly bulging. He wondered how she had got her hands on so much coin, but soon decided he would rather not know.

"Alright, hop on up," he said grudgingly. "Best you ride in the back, young girl like you might bring all kinds of unwanted attention my way."

"As you wish," she said politely, making her way to the back of the wagon.

Hallam followed her, and offered her and hand up so she could get up and settle herself in the back. He was torn over his decision to take her, but he could hardly refuse now that she had accepted his price. As she settled he watched her, wondering what exactly she was running from that would send her all the way to Riften. He pulled the canvas into place. Perhaps he was being too suspicious. She may not be running from anything. Might be she had come to Solitude to earn some coin before returning to her family in Riften. Yes, doubtless that was it.

"We'll be off now, miss," he said as he hauled himself up onto the front of the wagon and took hold of the horses' reins. "Make yourself comfortable, I'll not be stopping till dark."

"Thank you," she called softly from the back, and he smiled slightly before pulling on the reins to get the horses going. They soon evened out into a slow trot as they made their way from the shadow of Solitude, and in no time at all the great city was a mere distant landmark on the horizon.

Adrian looked up from hammering the steel at the shriek. His eyes narrowed as he looked towards the small stream Mella had walked down to, to wash their clothes. He dropped the hammer on seeing the upturned basket, his wife no longer anywhere to be seen. Without second thought he was pulling one of his newly forged swords from the rack. Another moment saw him practically sprinting down to the stream.

"Mella?!" he bellowed, his feet skidding to a halt on the shale bank. His heart was pounding in his chest, his head turning rapidly as he looked in all directions for his wife. There was open ground on almost every side. If someone or something had snatched her, surely there would be some trace? It had been mere moments since he had heard her shriek.

That left only one option, and he swallowed hard as he looked towards the trees. They were perfect for an ambush, but he had little choice. "Mella?!" he shouted again, running towards the tree line. He brushed the hanging branches aside, his feet getting caught in the undergrowth. He cursed, pulling his legs free as thorns stabbed into his upper calve and knees. Kicking free he found the undergrowth sparser the further under the shade of the trees he moved.

Panicking, his heart pounding, he frantically glanced around for any clue. To the left the undergrowth seemed to have been trodden into a path, and he moved towards it. The stream continued on through the stream, and he knew that it eventually flowed into Lake Geir. "By, Ysmir," Adrian half-groaned. There were several sets of footprints in the mud along the streamside, and what looked inexplicably like drag marks.

"Mella?!" his cry this time was that of an enraged, wounded, animal. He took off along the footprints as fast as he could, ignoring the scratches and the stumbles. All he could think about was finding his wife, about how all of this was his fault. He was such a fool, men had long warned him to keep her close; that she was far too tempting a bounty for bandits and marauders. Adrian had laughed, shrugged it off.

Yes, he kept Mella close, but obviously he had not kept her close enough. How could he ever live with the guilt of it? Ever face her parents? They would blame him, he knew it. They had always wanted them to remain in Riften after their wedding. Adrian had refused, he knew he would make more coin being the sole smith in a village, than one of many in a city. So they had moved to Ivarstead, where he had hoped to gain custom from pilgrims heading up the seven thousand steps.

He had done a steady trade, and he and Mella had been happy. Though he knew Mella missed the city and her parents, she never complained about their quiet life. Neither had he, for it meant he had fewer prying eyes on her. Or so he had thought…

He could see the light through the trees ahead of him now, and he knew he would soon come back out into the open. By the divines, he hoped there would be some clue for him to follow on the other side. He crashed through the branches as a stifled scream came from the other side. Adrian emerged, met with the site of two boats being pushed out onto the water, Mella being forcefully pulled onto one of them.

He saw red.

"Mella!" he cried out, running down the small hill between the thicket and the lake's edge. Two of the armoured men turned at his exclamation, turning their weapons menacingly in their hands. Adrian gripped his own harder, his eyes flickering between the waiting bandits and his wife still struggling against her captors.

As he clashed swords with the first of the bandits, he saw one of the men in the boat backhand Mella hard across the face. He practically snarled in response, his anger rising to the point that it felt as though his blood was boiling in his veins. Adrian was sure it was his pure fury that had him shoving his opponent so hard that he unbalanced and fell into the shallows of the lake.

The second bandit on the shore engaged him as the first coughed and spluttered, limbs flailing in the water. Adrian didn't waste any more time on him as steel clashed on steel. The second man was stronger, though Adrian knew that he could best him. He not only knew how to forge swords, but how to wield them as well. All he needed was to wait for a weakness, the slightest hesitation in his opponent.

It came only moments later, and Adrian managed to slice through the man's hide bracer and pierce his skin. The bandit roared with pain, his distraction enough to have Adrian driving his sword through the bastard's throat. He allowed himself a second to glean a moment of satisfaction from the man choking on his own blood before he wrenched the sword free and turned back to the lake.

The first man was stumbling out of the water now, but Adrian was not willing to give him a moment to get back on steady feet. He rammed the steel so far through the bandit's gut that it came out the other side, the force lifting him off his feet. Adrian had to let go of his sword, knowing there would be no point trying to retrieve it when it was so far buried in the man. He would waste precious time by trying.

Instead, he snatched up the dead man's sword, not liking the balance as much as he had enjoyed his own creation. Still, it would have to do. He had little time, the boat bearing Mella and another three bandits was moving further out into the lake now. Without a second thought he plunged into the water, wading out as fast as he could. The water was soon up about his waist and he sheathed the sword into his belt before diving into the lake.

His strokes were messy as he swam towards the boat, looking up every half minute or so to check whether he was gaining on the vessel. Several minutes passed before he had to stop and tread water, a stitch stabbing his chest and stomach. "Mella!" he choked on a mouthful of water, dismay flooding him as he saw he had not gained an inch, the boat had pulled too far away. Though it pained him more than he could say, he had to admit that he would not catch them this way.

"Don't give up on me, Mella!" he shouted as loudly as his voice would allow. "I'll find you!"

He tried not to think about the state in which he would find her as he struck out towards the shore. His muscles were aching as he crawled back through the shale and onto dry land. The sun was fading down behind the horizon now, and he forced himself to his feet, his knees shaking. Adrian turned back to the lake, straining his eyes to see where the small boat was.

Finally he found it, heading south, toward the Treva River, no doubt. He took a shuddering sigh. The furthest the river could take the bandits was Lake Honrick. That meant the bandits had to have an encampment along the shore, or around Riften itself. Adrian too several deep breaths, trying to regain some of his composure as he tried not to imagine what Mella would have to endure before he found her again.

Because he would find her, he determined that as he stared out over the lake. He would find his wife, and bring her home, and never, ever let her from his sight again. At first light he would head to Riften, keeping an eye out for any clue along the way and an ear out for any gossip. He would ask the Jarl of Riften for the bandits they had a bounty out on. Then he would go to each in turn until he found Mella. He would not stop. He would never stop, not until he found her.

On the edge of the lake he vowed that to himself, and to the divines. Eventually he could stare out no more, and he moved, intending to head back towards the woodland thicket. Before he could, though, a blow struck him so hard on the back of his head that he slumped to his knees. His head spinning he tried to push himself back up to his feet. Before he could struggle upright another blow smashed into the back of the head.

All he knew was darkness as he fell face first towards the lake.

"Here, miss, we will rest for the night," the canvas was pulled aside to reveal the merchant.

"Where?" she asked him, wondering how far along the road they had travelled. She had not dared to peek out of the canvas since they had trundled away from Solitude, beyond paranoid that she would see guards bearing down on the wagon.

"Rorikstead," the merchant told her, holding his hand out to help her down from the wagon. She allowed him to do so, trying to push aside the feelings of guilt. Agreeing to transport her had put him in inexplicable danger – though he did not know it. If anyone did catch up with them, then he would soon find himself on the gallows, of that she had no doubt.

Paranoid, she glanced in all directions, squinting into the darkness and seeing nothing to pique her suspicions. She tried to breathe. If they had discovered her missing, she was sure they would search every nook and cranny of the city before sending guards out. They would not want to let anyone know they had lost her unless they really had to. By then, with the luck of the divines, she would be safe in Riften, and no one would think to look for her there.

"I know the inn keep," the merchant interrupted her thoughts. "He will only charge us a few septims for bed and board. Unless you would prefer to stay here in the wagon?"

Really, she thought she ought to try and conserve what coin she had. However, the thought of staying outside alone in the back of a cold wagon made her shudder. She was not used to such things, not yet at least. By the end of this journey, she imagined she would. Not tonight, though. Tonight she needed a good night of rest and a good feed so she was able to think clearly.

"The inn will be most welcome," she replied to the merchant.

"This way," he gestured for her to walk at his side. She fell into step with him, feeling guilty all over again. She had chosen him because he looked young, able to protect her should anything happen on the road. It was wrong to use him in such a way, she knew that, but she had to think about herself if she wanted any hope of returning home one day. "Forgive my rudeness," he spoke again. "I have not asked your name…"

"Bess," the name came before she could think on it. She had not even thought of a false name for herself until this moment, and she scolded herself for being so stupid. Bess probably wouldn't have been her first choice, if she had had more time to think, but the name had slipped from her now and she could not take it back.

"Hallam," he responded, and she forced a smile. "After you," he gestured for her to walk up the steps of the inn ahead of her.

She was wary of turning her back on anyone, but she went ahead anyway. Should Hallam have wanted to attack her he had had plenty of opportunity along the open road. She doubted very much that he would do so now outside a bustling inn.

Inside she went, unable to help the sigh of satisfaction that left her as the warmth of the raging fire washed over her. A bard was playing a soft lament in the glow of the flames, and her eyes lingered on him for a moment as Hallam moved passed her and greeted the man she assumed to be the inn keep. They grasped hands firmly, exchanging smiling greetings and claps on the shoulder. She watched until Hallam looked over towards her and beckoned her forwards.

"There's only one room left, you take it," he said as she approached.

"Oh…" she wasn't sure what to say. "Thank you."

"It's nothing," he shook his head. "Come, let's sit. He will bring broth and bread, and ale should you want it."

"Thank you," she said again, making her way to the most secluded table in the inn.

Hallam settled down opposite her, and she casually glanced towards the door before trying to relax. She drummed her fingertips against the table top, wondering if she should try and strike up some conversation with him. As she looked towards him he scratched at his dirty blonde beard. Now she could seem him the light again she could appreciate just how young he was. He must have less than thirty years, she would wager. Perhaps he had a wife and young family…Guilt washed over her again, and she swallowed hard.

"What is drawing you to Riften?" Hallam asked.

"Family," she lied.

"Ah," he nodded as though that was what he had assumed.

"They are in Shor's Stone, but Riften is close enough for my uncle to come on business. He will take me the rest of the way," she told him.

"Then what had you in Solitude?" Hallam asked.

"The Bard's College," another lie slipped from the tongue. It wouldn't be the first time a young woman had left a small village to try and seek her fortune in one of the big cities. "I suppose I have a talent for singing," that, at least, was true. "I thought I might be good enough, but my fortune ran out. I took what was left and decided to return home."

"Cut your losses? Smart girl," he tilted his head towards her.

"What about you? Do you travel often?" she asked.

"As often as need be, I am but a humble merchant and I need the coin to keep my wife happy," he said, a wry smile on his lips.

"Smart man," she quipped before she could stop herself, and his smile widened.

"Are you not warm, with that cloak on?" Hallam asked as the inn keep came by their table with a tray laden with two bowls of broth, two large rolls of bread and a flagon of ale with two tankards. "Thank you," Hallam nodded towards him, and she offered the older man a smile.

"Enjoy yourselves," the inn keep said before moving away.

She smiled slightly at Hallam as he placed one of the bowls in front of her, taking the bread he offered before she set it at the side of the bowl of broth and moved her hands to untie the cloak that was still pulled up over her head. Hallam had drawn her attention to it. She was wary of being recognised, but at the same time she risked drawing more attention to herself by appearing mysterious. Best she appeared comfortable and with nothing untoward to hide.

Hallam's eyes widened slightly as she lowered her hood. She swallowed hard, not missing the fleeting look in his eyes. That was not a look that made her feel comfortable – lust, longing. He had a wife, she was naively hoping that would keep her safe from his baser desires. Perhaps he did not love her? She studiously spooned broth into her mouth, taking comfort from the warmth of it sliding down her throat. As soon as she had eaten her meal she would excuse herself. Hopefully the doors on the rooms here had locks.

Perhaps she was being paranoid, when she looked back up from her bowl Hallam seemed more interested in the bard. He turned back towards her in a moment and offered a smile. She responded with good grace, not wanting to appear anything other than relaxed.

"We leave at first light tomorrow," Hallam told her.

"Then best I retire," she responded, and he nodded, eyes lingering on her a moment longer than she liked as she rose up from the table.

She offered a final small smile before approaching the inn keep to ask the way to the room. He pointed her in the right direction and she made her way there, slipping into the room before closing the door firmly behind her. She was pleased to see that there was indeed a lock, and she slid it across before finally feeling her body relax. It was only now that she realised she had been tense all day. Slowly she observed her new surroundings.

The room was small, but clean. There was a freshly made bed and a dresser with a looking glass above it. There were a few trinkets dotted about the place, but nothing that looked like it had much value. She sighed, removing her cloak before sinking down onto the bed. One thing was for certain, it was not home. She unclipped her coin purse from her belt, drawing the strings open and examining the contents. Over half her coin would be gone when she paid Hallam for the journey to Riften.

She tried not to let that worry her, her fingers slipping over the amulet that was also stored in the purse. The last thing she wanted to do was sell it, it had belonged to her father after all. If it came to it, though… Well, if it came to it she would have to. Her only other asset of value was tucked down the front of her dress, and she would have to be desperate indeed to sell it. It was not just the sentimental value of it having been a gift from her father, it also gave away her true name.

She pulled on the chain, revealing the heavy, silver locket on the end of it. The front was decorated with sapphires and emeralds that glimmered enticingly in the candlelight. She adored it. She had adored it since it had been presented to her on her sixteenth name day. The only sour point had been her mother practically grinding her teeth. Her mother usually put on the perfect show, but that day her mask had almost slipped.

She sighed, turning the locket over and smiling slightly at the inscription on the back. Tears welled in her eyes as she read the engraving over and over again. She missed her father so much that it ached in places she hadn't known existed. What she wouldn't give to have him back. What she wouldn't give to get her hands on the man who had taken him away from her. The man who had ruined everything. She clenched her fist hard around the locket and closed her eyes to stop the tears from falling.

Even so, the words still flashed behind her eyes…

Love, always, to my darling, Ayda.