A/N: I'm rewriting and editing this story with a help of an awesome beta. To those who read this before, I've made minor changes that you might find interesting. To those who never read this, thank you for your interest. I'll try to upload this a little more regularly and faster than before (since it's all written anyway, just need to get the editing done). I don't own Skyrim, Bethesda does. I don't make any money from this, I just want to learn more and hopefully become a better writer. I hope you enjoy! :)

1.

The northern lights shone brightly above Whiterun, scattering colors of green, blue, and red across the sky. While the city and its people were fast asleep, she was afraid to close her eyes. What she could not remember with her waking eyes, always came to her in her dreams. And as the morning came and the sun's first rays hit Whiterun, as the stars faded and birds started singing behind her bedroom window, she lost everything she was trying so hard to reach in her dreams.

So she preferred not to sleep. To stay awake as long as she could.

In these lonely, silent nights, she tried to keep her mind on other things, but mostly she just wandered around the empty halls of the Dragonsreach. The guards didn't pay much attention to her, most of them just nodded politely as she passed by. Silently she walked down the stairs, paused to look around the large, wooden hall which was now empty. During the days, the longhouse was usually filled with people.

There was Irileth - who rarely smiled - standing next to the Jarl, keeping him safe from all the possible threats. The Dunmer took her job very seriously and she always checked every visitor personally, whether they were farmers outside of the city asking for help with wolves and bears, or some noble Thane from Solitude, bringing regards from the Empire and Jarl Elisif the Fair. Irileth never lets her guard down.

And to this day, Irileth still had suspicions about her.

Even though she had been living in Dragonsreach for years now, she could feel Irileth's eyes upon her, whenever she approached the Jarl or even said few words to him. But she couldn't blame her. Many people in Skyrim considered the Khajiit thieves and skooma-addicts, unreliable creatures with lots of problems. If this wasn't Whiterun, she wouldn't be allowed inside the city walls.

To her eyes, Jarl Balgruuf the Greater was a noble and a good man. But he was also one the most stubborn Nords she knew. Despite that, he always smiled at her, always asked how she was doing no matter how busy he seemed to be. Even when he was in the middle of a heated discussion with his steward, Proventus Avenicci, he usually had time to greet her and give her a warm, delightful smile.

The large hall was empty; she guessed that even Irileth had gone to bed as well. Her steps were quiet and muffled as she moved across the floor. For a moment she stopped beside the big fireplace, which still had glowing embers of burned wood. All the hundreds of fires that were burned in this pit had left their distinguishing marks on the hall. Most recognizable was the rather comforting and cozy smell of the smoke that embedded itself in the wooden walls and beams. Many people who lived inside the Dragonsreach didn't seem to notice it anymore; they were so accustomed to it. But she could always smell it and never grow tired of it.

It was the smell of home.

The warmth surrounded her and like so many times before, she felt safe and happy here. No danger could reach her inside these sturdy walls.

She wasn't born in the Dragonsreach, wasn't one of the Jarl's children. Would never be. She didn't really want to be. She knew she had a past. That she came from somewhere and at one point in her life, she had belonged to someone. She was the someone's daughter, maybe even a sister. Someone once said that she might have been abandoned, that her parents didn't really want her at all. She acknowledged it. That could very well be true. But the more she thought about it, less likely it seemed. She remembered very little if anything, but she could recall a sense of belonging.

Now she was part of Dragonsreach, a peculiar, strange part of it. She was here before Jarl Balgruuf's children were born and before his wife passed away. His genuine affection towards her didn't end when his children came to be. She sometimes spent time with them, taught them to read and write. But as they all grew older, they also grew tired of her, found new friends and new interests. She wasn't offended when they stopped spending time with her. She liked them a lot but preferred her own peace.

As she started to feel drowsy, she moved away from the fireplace. She blinked her eyes couple of times and walked slowly to the small room filled with soul gems, alchemy books, and other magical items. It was Farengar's workroom and his laboratory. She was always welcome here as well. Farengar was indeed one the first people that had made her feel like home inside this strange, huge fort. It was rather strange because the wizard was known for his short temper and abrupt, rude remarks. When he saw her for the first time, he didn't look at her like a little, weird, wild animal, instead, he had kneeled before her and smiled. To this day she didn't understand why and he never explained his actions or why he tolerated her and her endless questions and inquiries.

When she showed interest towards his work, rummaged through his old spell books and sank her tiny, sharp teeth in some of his ingredients, he took her as his apprentice. He was surprised to learn she had a basic understanding of magic, but he still had to spend days teaching her simple, plain things. She never complained though. She knew much of what he did and although there were times when the Jarl annoyed and irritated him with his mundane question, he was never too busy to tell her about his newest spells or what he was researching. He also questioned her and corrected her mistakes. He wanted her to know and remember all the different spells and their consequences. He always reminded her that magic was not a tool to be played with. You had to be responsible for your actions, know what you were doing. And under no circumstances did he allow her to hurt innocent people. That's why he had never agreed to teach destruction spells to her.

She sat in his work chair and leaned against his table. Her head felt heavy and she had trouble keeping her eyes open now. It could be so easy just to close her eyes and let the sleep take over, but fear kept her awake. She resisted. She knew the nightmares were somehow connected with her lost childhood. Many, many times she had tried to remember, force herself to remember, but the black, thick veil that covered her mind could not be lifted by force. She ran through countless, dark, dim hallways, bashed her head into locked doors that refused to open. Only in the night, during her deepest sleep, she was able to see.

To remember.

But as the dawn came and as she opened her eyes, everything was covered in darkness again. And all she felt was painful emptiness and longing. They all told her - the Jarl, Farengar, even her best friend Lydia - she didn't need to remember. Because this was her home. She would always be welcome here. She would always have friends and family here.

But she was no Nord and her difference made her want to seek out her origins. She wanted to find her real family if she still had any family left. The Jarl did something exceptional. He saw her desperation and sent some couriers to different holds of the land to ask around about her possible background, but again and again, they all returned without anything new to tell. After the third courier came back from Solitude as empty-handed as the others, she learned not to wait for their return.

Lydia asked around outside the city, from the traveling Khajiit caravans. The Jarl even suggested that they let them inside the city if they could tell them anything, but that caused Irileth to shout like a Greybeard. She was basically fuming as she explained that she didn't want him to spend his valuable time or the wealth that was meant for the citizens of Whiterun.

"But you are one of my citizens," he said and his voice was determinant. "And it is my duty to make sure that all who reside in Whiterun are well taken care of."

She felt Irileth's stern gaze upon her and she knew the Dunmer didn't approve the Jarls actions and didn't understand his weird affection towards her. All these years she always tried to avoid her. Irileth accused her of sneaking around the reach like a stalking predator. She was but a saber cat in Irileth's eyes. While she did have a habit of sticking to the shadows and be as quiet and unnoticeable as she could, she would never steal anything or hurt anyone in the Dragonsreach.

All these thoughts buzzed around in her tired head, fast like lighting while she tried and tried to understand and remember. Her distant past stayed hidden while the recent events were clear as day. And while she was buried inside her own head, she didn't hear soft steps behind her. When a warm hand touched her shoulder, she was startled, her heart bouncing, her ears flattened back against her head and she automatically drew her tail under the chair to avoid instant injury.

"Why are you still awake, Sura?" Farengar stood next to her. His voice was concerned but a bit irritated at the same time.

"I can't sleep," Sura answered and lowered her head. She felt a little guilty like she had just lied right to his face. But it was no lie, she literally couldn't sleep.

"You mean you don't want to sleep," he sighed and crossed his arms. He was wearing his dark blue wizard cloak and under the shadow of his hood, his face looked worried.

She nodded but didn't look up at him. His silent disappointment was enough. He needed her help tomorrow for some of his new experiments. She knew little of his current work, but the magic he was working on seemed very dangerous and volatile. And if she wasn't up to the task, if she wasn't sharp and well rested, if her memory didn't work like it usually did, she would not just disappoint him but put all of the other people around them at risk.

He shook his head and she saw some of the stiffness melt out of from his eyes. He sighed and slowly he walked to one of his cabinets, the one he always kept locked.

The storage for his most dangerous ingredients.

He went through some of the bottles, read carefully every marking and label and finally took out one brightly blue vial. He opened the cork and poured a small amount into a silver goblet.

"This is very powerful," he said and placed the goblet on the table in front of her. "But it will make sure that you sleep without dreams. This is the maximum amount you can take. If you drink more, you will die. So never, ever try to take it on your own. No matter how desperate the situation is. Do you understand?"

She nodded and reached out for the goblet. It shook in her hand; she hadn't known he had such strong potions in his possessions. But of course, he was the court wizard, he had to be prepared for everything. Be it good or bad.

"This is no potion," he said. She looked at him bewildered. It was like he heard her thoughts. "It is poison. It will overpower your brain. Cripple them, so they can't come up with any thoughts or memories or illusions. "

Again she looked up at him, now more scared of him than her nightly terrors. The goblet trembled against her lips and the sweet, empowering smell of the drink made her head spin.

"Don't be afraid," he smiled when he saw her hesitating. "You should be able to sleep soundly. Now, just drink it and then go to bed. Its effect is quite sudden."

Once more she looked into his eyes and saw no sign of lies. With one quick sip, she swallowed the liquid, placed the goblet back to the table and stood up. Farengar nodded, smiled and gently patted her shoulder.

She bid him good night, turned around and walked to her small bedroom. Since she usually worked in the alchemy laboratory with Farengar, the wizard and the Jarl had both agreed that it would be better if her room was near his workplace. So Farengar's bookshelves and his massive work table were moved and she made this small corner room her own.

She thought it was a good arrangement and she liked her room. She didn't have much, a small corner table with fresh flowers, a few candles and wall sconces, a little wardrobe with a couple of dresses and a tiny chest for her most important, personal things.

She changed her dress to a comfortable nightwear and lay upon her bed, pulling the warm, woolly covers over her. As the darkness started to creep over her and her vision began to blur, she realized in her foggy mind that there actually was one thing she could remember from her earlier dreams.

A growl - soft and gentle and low, not scary but comforting. And a rough patch of black fur under her small, tiny fingers.