The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
Fanfiction
Disclaimer:
I do not own Oblivion or any of the NPCs, Quests or game dialog. The rest of the characters are mine. Enjoy and please review!
Chapter 1: The Beginning
I sighed as I stared into the mirror while my handmaid tied my dress. "Milady, you look beautiful in this dress, it's such a pity you don't wear it more often," she said. I smiled at her in the mirror; she was right, the deep purple of the dress was quite something with my raven black hair and dark brown eyes. My mid-back length hair was tied loosely in the intricate fashions of the Valenwood court, and my pointed ears peaked out from under the style. "Maybe so, Belwen, but I still hate dressing up for all these noble parties," I replied coldly, then sighed again. "I'm sorry. I just wish my uncle hadn't taken over our family, and I wish Mother was still here – with Daniéll," Belwen smiled sadly, and pulled some more on the different ribbons and such. My mother had been exiled after my father had died, and she fell in love with an Imperial nobleman. She had borne him a son – Daniéll – and my uncle had justified this by saying that she had 'disgraced our noble Bosmer family'. I must admit, I honestly agreed with him initially, but my love for my mother quickly overcame my doubts. This had all happened twenty-five years ago. Daniéll was now twenty, and we wrote to each other regularly. It was partly at Mother's request, but mostly at my own interest in my half-brother's life and company. I hoped to get to know him well enough that we might actually be siblings by the time we meet: I have no intention of staying here in Valenwood. "All finished, Milady," Belwen declared proudly. I smiled at her again, and turned to leave my room for the banquet hall. As I wandered through the corridors and occasional halls, I thought of how empty this place had become since my mother left, how cold it had become under my cruel, gambling-addicted uncle. As I passed a servant, I stopped him and asked, "Any news from Cyrodiil?" he stared at me with large, frightened eyes and stuttered that he hadn't heard anything, before hurrying away. I felt very suspicious, and even more wary of tonight's dinner. If my uncle had caught on…. It had been almost two years since I had heard from either my mother or Daniéll, and it worried me. I took a deep breath, smoothing my expression and dress, and the guards opened the large oak door to the grand, lofty banquet hall. My heart stopped cold at the sight before me.
It was not made up for feasting, or even gambling.
Instead, all the Bosmer nobles of Valenwood lined the sides up to a makeshift throne, where my uncle sat haphazardly. He was still drunk from some or another party. "Behollld, mmy trraaiiterouss nnieece, Arya!" he over-articulated past a thick slur. My eyes widened as I glanced around the room. People I had counted as friends now sneered at me. "I don't understand, Uncle. What is all this?" I cautiously stepped further into the room, trying not to remind myself of the last time I saw something like this. "HA!" he snorted. "'Whaat isss all thiss?' she ssaaysss! Ha!" he leaned forwards menacingly, and held out a hand to a terrified servant, who quickly dropped almost two years' worth of letters – my letters! I realised – in his hand. Now I knew why no letters had come to me – my uncle had stopped them all – those I had written as well as those that were written for me. He wagged the letters at me. "Thiss, thiis prooves your guilt," he spat, and slumped into the chair again. Fear gripped me in iron manacles. I glanced around at the crowd again, and saw the hate in their eyes. "You are just llike the ssign you were born underr, you are a thieff, Arya,"
My breath escaped me. "No…."
"I," my uncle sneered proudly, "hereby EXILE you from Valenwood – onn painn off DEATH!" he slurred his last words, and lost his grip on the letters. No, no it can't…. I shook my head and backed up as my uncle stood and the crowd closed in on me. I turned and ran, clutching my skirts as I fled the fort. I can never come back, I despaired, bursting through doors and into the forest. I didn't know where I was going, and a dress wasn't practical to run in. Everything seemed to want to stop me; bushes tore at my hem and branches clawed at my face. I couldn't breathe but I wouldn't stop: I cannot let them catch me.
I fell in an exhausted heap late that night. I didn't care where, so I ended in a hollow at the base of a tree. I have never cried so hard in my life.
I started awake in the morning, wondering where I was. Then last night's memories came crashing down on me. I almost gave in to grief and despair. Pull yourself together, Arya. I breathed deep. You need new clothes, a weapon and a map. Then you can leave for Cyrodiil. I set my jaw, and picked myself up. I needed to find a path, and a path would take me to people. People would have what I needed. A grim smile crossed my face. I was going to steal.