Father,
As I write this letter to you, my hand shakes and my chest is heaving. My apologies beforehand if this becomes difficult to decipher. Like we already discussed, I understood your desires for me to join the Imperial army. You were in it for most of your life. It holds importance to you. Yet can you not see that it does not hold this same significance to me? In my eyes, the Empire seems simply like an army. Not a group of companions or comrades, not a set of skilled warriors I wish to fight with side-by-side. Only an army. An army I never wanted to join.
I can basically see your face as you read this, father, your furrowed brow, your lips gradually twisting into a bitter frown. And I can practically hear your voice in my head, "Our family's legacy should be continued, Annika. You are a fine warrior, the Empire could greatly use your skills." I don't feel this way.
I tried to grow accustomed to it father, truly I did. I wanted to make you proud of me. In fact one of the few things that prevented me from leaving sooner was the vision in my mind of me returning home to visit as a war hero, my aura simply reeking of glory and accomplishments in battle. Though as time dragged on at an agonizingly slow rate, this vision became less and less vivid, as I became more and more aware it would never become more than what it was: a dream.
The army made me unhappy, father. I know you must be feeling rather conflicted right now, and if I was telling you all of this face-to-face, the conversation that would follow would most likely take days to end. Yet I know that you would draw this conclusion: you want me to be happy. You don't want me to waste my years of early-adulthood away when I could be doing things that make my eyes sparkle when I talk, or even think of them.
One fateful night I simply decided to leave from camp. I knew that I was deserting and I knew that there would be consequences to face if I was ever found. However I didn't expect to have an arrow shot at my shoulder blade as I was crossing the border into Cryodiil, and I didn't expect to awake on a cart heading to Helgen, sitting next to several Stormcloak rebels, all of us being sent to the chopping block.
I will never forget how it felt to rest my head on that cold slab of stone - to feel the sickeningly warm wetness of blood touch my neck as I stared up at a man with his face concealed by an ominous hood, bearing an axe that was seconds away from ending my life in the blink of an eye. I will also never forget the sound of flapping thunderous wings, nor the sight of an ancient beast of legend raining fire down on everyone around me, causing a chaos to ensue, and my life to be saved. Though it was not at all the rescue anyone could have hoped for, I am grateful nonetheless.
I managed to escape through the Dragon's Keep, though I'm sure that others weren't as lucky. Several screams pierced my eardrums as I fled the scene - those of men, women, and even children. I didn't dare look over my shoulder at any point, fearing too much the carnage I would see. My feet didn't stop carrying me throughout those series of caverns once. Even when my lungs were threatening to burst and my tendons were begging for a brief break, a primal fear for my life ignored these things and pushed me forwards. I sprinted past enormous spiders I had also heard tales of, I ducked beneath a large bear's claws as it swiped at me for disturbing its slumber, and I barely escaped the path of falling rocks that were being forcibly removed from their previous spots, on account of the tremendous vibrations sent through the earth because of the havoc being wreaked on the surface above.
I had never been so relieved and overjoyed to see daylight when I emerged from the darkness. Skyrim's landscape had never been more beautiful. The air I normally found so frigid and unsettling now felt wonderful to breathe in and sate the need for oxygen my lungs had been requesting for so long.
I was not free of injuries however. My shoulder had not been properly treated, my knee had been badly scraped against rocks during my frantic escape, and that bear hadn't entirely missed me with its ferocious attack. I needed medical aid. I followed the nearest path which led me to the nearest road sign, which pointed me to the nearest populated settlement: Riverwood.
There I was taken into an inn, and though there were no proper healers there, the innkeeper - Delphine, I think her name was - tended to me to the best of her ability. I spent the night there and was instructed to head to the nearby city of Whiterun, where there was a temple of Kynareth with priestesses who could give me the help I required.
Now I sit within this temple. I reached Whiterun after nightfall. The guards at the gate were hesitant to let me in, but when I explained my reasoning to be there they grudgingly allowed my entry. Even though I am entirely aware that I am far from that dragon and out of harm's way for the moment, just thinking about that gruesome experience is enough to make me feel unstable and at risk.
I am sorry for deserting the army, father. It may have been a poor decision, and I am sure I have not yet dealt with all of the repercussions this is bound to cause. But it is my responsibility to face these problems head on.
I'm sure I'll make you proud, regardless of this.
I miss you.
~Annika
Whiterun was an interesting place. Men and women of all creeds walked the streets, each of them different in practically every way. It was a lively city, bustling with the sound of conversation and activity during the day and murmuring with chirping of crickets, mooing of cows and the slightly distant braying of horses in the city's stables during the night. One may compare it to cities in Cyrodiil and spot several similarities at a mere glance, yet even after staying there for over a week straight I could say in complete honesty that not a single aspect of this settlement was familiar to me in the slightest. For one, Khajiit were not allowed past the city's walls. People in this province viewed them as thieves or mercenaries, a danger and too risky to keep among its population. I also saw no Argonians within the borders either.
Though there were a few wood elves here and there, the inhabitants consisted only of that: Redguards, Bretons, Bosmer, and of course, Nords. Nords seemed to be the most common race. This didn't surprise me. We were in Skyrim.
I didn't like the hints of racism I was spotting. It left me with an odd empty feeling in the pit of my stomach and it made me almost feel uncomfortable about my Nordic heritage for the first time in my life.
I felt like I needed something else to do. Now that I had left the army, and thankfully escaped my execution, there was something major lacking in my life that I always felt was needed; purpose. I knew nobody here, I had no ties, no friends. Talk of the dragon attack at Helgen was circulating around rather quickly. Apparently there were only a few known survivors, General Tullius and Ulfric Stormcloak the most notable. Nobody knew that was where I had come from, and I was beginning to wonder if I should make that known.
When I was healed enough for the priestesses to deem me entirely well, I exited the temple and headed straight for Dragonsreach. Riverwood was nearest to Helgen from what I knew of, and it was under this Jarl's control. Surely he should be concerned for the settlements he was responsible for, and if there was a dragon threat, he ought to know as much about it as I could share.
After a discussion with the rather informal man, Balgruuf, he called himself, I was sent on a quest to some place called Bleak Falls Barrow to retrieve a magic sort of relic for the court wizard. As I was heading to do just that, however, I noticed something in town that caught my eye.
It was a building, or at least I assumed so. In reality, it was an enormous sea vessel of some kind that was flipped upside down, foundation built around it. It had an odd charm about it, one that is difficult to describe in words. An intense curiosity started to burn within me, and - completely forgetting the task I had at hand - I went right in.
The first thing I saw was a fist-fight. Between some Dunmer man and a Nord woman. A few other scattered people surrounded them and goaded the two on, looking amused and slightly inebriated. In the center of the large chamber I had entered was a sizeable hearth, banquet tables surrounding it in a semi-rectangle, all of which were lined with bread, meat, mead, cheese - basically any food you could imagine. For some reason, though I knew next to nothing about this place, I wanted to be here. Frequently.
An old woman who looked a bit out of place amongst all of these battle-hardened warriors passed by me and I stopped her for a moment.
"Excuse me, but what is this place?" I asked, all the while my eyes still scanning my new surroundings. There were quite a few weapon racks sporting blades, maces and hammers of all kinds, and to my right I noticed a staircase leading to someplace below.
The woman's voice was very sweet and sincere, and just a tad raspy, "Oh deary, this is the mead hall of the Companions of course! Jorrvaskr." She said that like it was common knowledge, like she was genuinely confused as to why I wasn't familiar with it.
Cocking a brow at her, I turned my gaze to her wrinkled face, "The Companions?" She had my full attention.
"Why, they're only the most renowned warriors in Skyrim. I've been tending to them for about as long as I can remember... where are you from, young one, that you haven't heard of the Companions?" She reminded me slightly of my father, in the sense that she was very patient and wise. Like she knew far more than she was letting on.
"Well, Cyrodiil, originally." From what I was gathering, these "Companions" were a band of warriors stationed strictly in this province. Here, they were apparently a pretty big deal, though I hadn't ever caught wind of them in my travels. My eyes flitted back to the fist-fight that still went on. The two participants seemed to have a lot of stamina, it had been a while now. Both of them had landed some pretty good blows and didn't seem to have broken a sweat.
"Oh, well you could compare them to your little 'Fighter's Guild' I suppose. Though they are a bit different, they have a more interesting history in my opinion," She waved her hand slightly, smiling, some of the crinkles in her skin looking like they were from a lot of wide grins, "Though I'm sure you don't want to hear an old woman ramble. If you're truly interested, talk to Vignar." She walked slightly from me and picked up a broom I hadn't noticed, sweeping small dust balls into the corners.
I surveyed the area again, taking this all in. This entire place, this room, it gave off a certain vibe. It made me feel welcome, like all of these people were a part of something, like they really felt at home here. That was what I wanted. That was what I was searching for. Now I had found it.
"Wait, erm, Miss," I caught her attention again before she got too wrapped up in her duties, "Is there any way I could join them...?" My question seemed a bit clumsy and uncertain - not words often associated with me - but for some reason I felt frantic. Like if I didn't ask soon, I wouldn't ever get another chance.
Another smile spread across her weathered face, "Why yes, you can certainly try! I'm not who you should talk to, however, you're looking for the Harbinger. He'll be downstairs in his room, no doubt, fretting over something else he's discovered. It's the farthest one down the hall, dear." When I didn't move for a few lingering seconds, she gestured at me to go, "Shoo, shoo now. Don't be frightened. He won't bite." At that she laughed slightly to herself.
Which was unsettling.
