CHAPTER TWO:
QUEEN OF MEMORIES
Rowina found herself wandering the halls of Jorrvaskr, home of the Companions, in a daze. It had been almost a month since she had defeated Alduin and people were still singing her praises, bringing her gifts of gold, jewelry, scrolls of powerful enchantments, and other gifts that she would rather forget, and about eight men this month fell to one knee for her hand in marriage which she politely declined all of them. The forlorn woman shook her head; she was getting tired of being the famous Dragonborn, being handed gift after gift, men falling all over her -though, she will admit that she likes the attention of men a little bit-, and just being treated differently.
She continued her zoned-out stroll, barely noticing the people that passed her by, the weapons, animal heads and elaborate tapestries that lined the walls around her, and hardly heard the chatter and laughter that echoed the throughout the structure. It felt as if time went slower for her while time for everything else grew faster.
The dark-haired imperial wasn't upset that her destiny as Dragonborn was completed. She was glad that she had finished her deed, but her problems lied somewhere else.
Her eyes started to grow heavy; she spotted a small bench that felt like it was beckoning her to sit and to take a rest. It easily won her over, she let out a yawn and plopped herself down onto the bench. Feeling even sleepier, her elbow naturally found the arm of the wooden bench and she rested her head in her hand. At this point, all she could think about was sleep, how nice it would be to be to spend a few hours in bliss, and to dream about many things like-
'Dream?!'
"No!" Rowina shouted when she flew off the bench, she began to box at her head, "No, no, no! I can't fall asleep! I have to stay awake!" She smacked her cheeks in an attempt to gain energy.
It was when he spoke when the woman realized a person was in her presence, "Um, am I interrupting something?"
She stopped her actions and whipped her head around to see who somewhat caught her, "Oh, Farkus. It's you."
Farkus was someone she had bonded the closest to in the Companions. He went with her as her Shield-Brother on her trial into the Companions and was one of the few who treated her as a person rather then an idol. They became close friends and usually traveled together when she left Lydia back at Breezehome.
Spinning on her heel, she faced Farkus and noticed his grave expression, "What's the matter?"
The man shook his head, "Well, everyone has been worried about you. You haven't been eating, sleeping, or have really left Jorrvasker or your own home at all this month." Placing his large hand on her thin shoulder, he continued, "We are deeply concerned and I'm pretty sure your housecarl is too. Is there something wrong?"
Rowina flashed her biggest smile and politely shook off his hand, "Oh no, I'm just fine. I just… uh…" she glanced around as if looking for and excuse, "I've just been busy… uh… practicing survival techniques. You know… go days without sleep and… no food. Good stuff, good stuff."
"You know," Farkus began walking towards her causing her to back away until she bumped into the wall; he closed the distance and placed his hand on the stone wall near her head, "I've known you long enough to know when you're lying." The much taller nord pressed his body against hers and his face inches away making her face flush, "You are a pretty bad liar," His chestnut eyes looked deep into hers, "So Rowina, will you tell me the truth?"
Her chest clinched, cheeks burned, eyes began to fill with hot tears. She wanted to tell him, her mind kept trying to persuade her, but she bit down on her tongue.
"No," She pushed him off of her, "I said I was fine."
She walked to the door, but before she left the room she spoke to him over her shoulder, "And to prove it, I'll go on a job. Alone."
Letting her blunt words fly from her mouth, she turned and left the room not hearing the man behind her give a pained sigh.
It was nighttime. The harsh cold nipped at Rowina's bare face making her face red and the chilly wind made her thick hair flutter behind her. She wrapped her arms tight around her, "How can anyone live with this gods-forsaken cold?" she mumbled.
She looked up the sky, the evening sky seemed to swirl with dark purples and blues like silk with small, twinkling stars adorning it like gemstones. Despite the icy weather, she had always adored the sky.
The colors felt hypnotizing to her tired eyes as she stared at the sky; she was regretting her decision of immediately leaving Whiterun when she was confronted by Farkus, mentally cursing herself for her stubbornness.
When her eyes finally detached from the skies, she looked forward only to see an arrow speeding towards her chest. She attempted to dodge the arrow, but the arrow grazed her arm. Her chilled hand gripped the bleeding cut on her shoulder and she booked it to a nearby stone and crouched behind it.
"Well, I guess I found the bandit cave…"
Equipping her ebony bow and untying her thin, hooded cape she exposed her leather armor. She ignored the slight sting in her arm when she grabbed, placed, and drew back the string holding a steel arrow. The whizzing arrows came to a stop and the woman heard whispering.
She peeked around the edge of slick rock and saw two male bandits; a Redguard and a Dunmer.
"Where did she go? Did we kill her?" the Redguard asked.
The other bandit squinted his red eyes, "Not sure, I'll go check."
The Dark Elf began to creep where they last saw Rowina, which was straight ahead of them while she hid behind the bolder to their right. She turned her bow sideways above the bolder and aimed right at the dark-skinned bandit's throat so he couldn't scream when she killed him. She shivered at how dark her thought was. Holding her breath, she released the arrow and her shot was true.
Blood splattered the wooden entrance, the bandit grabbed throat and a look of surprise stained his face. He tried to shout, but the only sound he made was a muffled gurgle before he collapsed and fell on his side, dead.
She adjusted her stance and drew her bow again this time aiming at the elf, but there was a problem, she didn't see him.
Her eyes searched and searched, but no anvil. She sighed and put her arrow back in her quiver and placed the bow back onto her back. Still crouching, she crept out from behind her hiding place and made her way to the fallen Redguard, searching his rapidly cooling body. She grabbed the iron arrows from his quiver and took his few pieces of gold.
But before she could react, she was grabbed from behind and a large, cold hand covered her mouth that stifled her screams. The heat of her captor's breath lingered in her ear, "Found you bitch."
Struggling hard to free herself from his grasp, his hand over her mouth got tighter and with his free hand he unsheathed his dagger, threw his arm around her torso, and sunk the dagger deep into her left side.
She screamed inside his hand as he pressed it harder and deeper into her side and in that instant, she bit down hard into the bandit's hand. He wailed from pain and shock as he quickly released his hold on her and drew out his dagger from her skin. She hook kicked his side, grabbed him by his hair and slammed his face into her knee. The Dunmer stopped moving and breathing altogether and toppled over.
Her breathing grew ragged; she clutched her wounded abdomen and let herself sink down to her knees. Remembering her satchel hanging on her hip, she dug into it, searching for an item that could save her life. If she found it before she bled out.
Suddenly, her hand grabbed the familiar, glass bottle. She thanked the gods under her breath as her horribly shaking hand pulled it out of her bag. The red liquid bounced inside the bottle when her thumb popped off the cork and she downed the bittersweet potion. She breathed a sigh of relief; the pain began to quickly melt away while her wounds felt like they were stitching themselves up and closed.
After she felt rejuvenated from her health potion, she felt her anger flair, she felt the wolf and dragon inside her growing restless, hungering for more bloodshed. Ever since she was a young girl she had hated one thing, she absolutely hated it when someone makes her own blood ooze from her body. She felt herself losing control of her emotions fast and she knew for a fact: anybody or anything with a heartbeat inside that cave was going to be torn to shreds by her own hand – or claw.
She grinned, allowing herself to let her holed-up beast loose. Her armor fell into the snow, she felt her face and body begin to stretch and tufts of blacked fur sprouted from her skin, her teeth elongated and sharpened, her dainty fingernails grew into dagger-like claws and a wolf tail grew from her backside.
A howl rang through the air and her body looked nothing like the woman there before. Rowina fell onto all fours and burst through the entrance. She bit and slashed at anything that moved and it wasn't long before her bloodied claws ripped out the heart of the last bandit. The cave was littered with deranged bodies, blood nearly covered every inch of the stone walls and dirt floors, and the stench of death filled the surrounding air. Satisfaction welled up in the werewolf's chest, she completed her mission and she had fun doing it.
'What?' she mentally talked to herself, given that she can't speak in beast form, 'No! I did not have fun! I simply did my job and the killing was not fun, just a necessary evil.'
The wolf shook her head and started to leave, but before she knew it the room began to spin and her vision grew blurry, 'No, no, no! I can't pass out!' her large paws clutched her head, 'I know I haven't been sleeping well this month and just completely passed on sleep for a week, but I can't pass out! I can't! Not without my ring!'
But her exhausted body ignored her pleas and she collapsed. Her beast form retreating back into her body and the warmth of her fur dissipated. She lied nude on the cold ground. Rowina kept trying to fight the sleep that so eagerly wanted to drag her into the darkness, but she couldn't win.
Before her heavy eyelids could close, she spotted a man's silhouette approach. She figured that a bandit hid from her rampage and was going to kill her, but her body refused to move so she accepted death to be her fate. At this point, she'd rather die then to fall asleep. Her eyes finally closed and the last thing she remembered before sleep overtook her was a familiar, friendly scent.
Rowina stirred when a rough bounce jolted her body upright. She shook her head and opened her eyes, only to find herself seated in an imperial wagon mixed with four other rope-bound Nords. Two appeared to be Stormcloak soldiers, one was dressed in rags, and the other one was wearing fine clothing as well as a gag.
'Wait,' she thought, 'Prisoners? Why does this scene look so famil-?'
"Hey, you." a blond Stormcloak nodded to her, "You're finally awake. You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there." He gestured towards the man in rags.
The 'thief' spit at the Stormcloaks feet, "Damn you Stormcloaks. Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you, I could of stolen that horse and been half way to Hammerfell." He looked over to her, "You there. You and me – we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants."
Then it hit her. The imperial cart full of prisoners, Ulfric Stormcloak bound and gagged, and the snow-covered mountains surrounding the cart, she remembered this scene and she knew it well. She was on her way to Helgen to be executed.
She tried to speak, but her mouth and her voice didn't budge. She tried to move, but she remained still.
'Why can't I move? Why can't I control my body?'
Before she could attempt to do anything, another rough dip shook the cart violently and she found herself standing up in the back of a line.
"Step to the block when we call your name. One at a time!"
The loud, commanding voice belonged to a petite, but intimidating, woman wearing high-status imperial armor. She was the captain of the imperial guard!
A quiet huff of annoyance came from one of the Stormcloaks ahead of her, "Empire loves their damn lists."
Rowina tried to move just to slap the dissing Stormcloak in the back of the head, but, of course, her body ignored her and remained still.
She let her eyes wander the memory before her and to her surprise, her view rested on a familiar man, 'Hadver!'
Mentally, she smiled at him. She hadn't seen him really since he took her to Riverwood and helped her get back on her feet. Her heart clinched, she needed to check up on him when she could.
Another voice snapped her back from her thoughts, "Ulfric Stormcloak. Jarl of Windhelm." Hadver read.
"It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric!"
The Stormcloak she wanted to bitch-slap before rose his voice, kindling her fiery emotion again as the well-dressed –and rather fetching- man walked with pride over near the stained block despite being bound and gagged.
Hadver looked down at the parchment he held, "Ralof of Riverwood," the Stormcloak walked with a proud swagger as he stopped next to his Jarl, "Lokir of Rorikstead."
He walked forward about two steps before he threw his bound hands in the air and screamed, "No, I'm not a rebel! You can't do this!" the thief started to sprint and pushed passed the Captain and Hadver.
"Halt!" the Captain shouted to his retreating back.
Lokir raised his voice again and taunted, "You're not going to kill me!"
The imperial woman went red in the face; Rowina figured that comment pissed the Captain off, "Archers!"
A quick yelp rang through the air. The escaping thief fell to the ground bearing at least three arrows in his freshly bloodied back. The Captain turned back around, "Anybody else feel like running?" she threatened.
Her breath caught in her throat. Even though she was reliving a past memory the soul-piercing eyes of the woman in front of her still sent chills down her spine.
"Wait. You there. Step forward." Her body moved on its own in obedience to Hadver's voice, "Who are you?"
Before she could try to stop, her lips moved without her minds consent, "I am Rowina of Tamriel."
His eyes scanned her body, glanced at his list, and locked with her eyes again, "You're a long way from the Imperial City. What are you doing in Skyrim?" but before she could answer, he leaned over to the woman beside him, "Captain, what should we do? She's not on the list."
She glared at Rowina and let the poison drip from her mouth, "Forget the list, she goes to the block."
He had a look of shock and hesitated slightly, be he swiftly regained his composure, "By your orders, Captain." Hadver bore a pained looked when his eyes rested on the dark-haired imperial in front of him, "I'm sorry. We'll make sure your remains are returned to Cyrodiil. Follow the Captain, prisoner."
Her body followed the woman, but an exposed tree root tripped her and made her fall onto her hands and knees.
She raised her head, but realized that she was propped against the execution block. Her vision only saw the black-hooded man lifting a large axe that was being readied to drop on her neck and send her soul home.
"What in Oblivion is that?!"
The ground rumbled below her, the executioner tumbled to his side and she gained a clear view of the disturbance.
Alduin.
Alduin crouched on top of a tower with a look confidence. The darkened clouds swirled and covered up the winter sun. The heavy greens, blues, and blacks of the dragon's scales seemed to glow with raw power which made him look like hatred itself. He un-closed his mouth full of razor-sharp teeth that were already stained with blood even though his blackened eyes appeared to hold a deep hunger for more pray to kill, and his overpowering roar echoed throughout the town and many towns near it. The roar flung the light-weight woman far from the block and she slammed against the wagon that she was brought upon making a sickening crack and tipping the cart over. She gasped for breath and her vision went blurry, but just when she was about to black out she started to hear children laughing. Confused, she opened her eyes and found she was in a totally different memory. A memory of her childhood.
Three young boys stood menacingly above her. She was on her side clutching her repeatedly kicked ribs and she felt warm blood drip from her head and her lip. A large tree was against her aching back and the night air was cold on her tinder skin. The boys laughed again, "Quit being a little bitch," the dark-skinned boy crowed at her, "You shouldn't have sat on our club rock! You're getting what you deserve."
They laughed again when they saw tears pouring from her eyes. The high-elf boy took his turn to kick her in the stomach and verbally abuse her, "Come on you sissy! We haven't even started your punishment. Don't give in yet its more fun when you fight back!"
Rowina remembered this day well. After her parents died from a random bandit attack she was on her own and venerable. She mainly lived in high trees, under some peoples porches, broke into some civilians homes when she knew they would be gone awhile, and if she was desperate she would even sleep in barrels in hope for comfort. She ran away from all the orphanages and foster homes because she was always abused and beaten no matter where she went and soon they gave up on her and labeled her a homeless rat.
Another kick to her nose took her head from the clouds and she howled in pain with her high-pitched, young screams. The trio continued to laugh in pleasure as they kicked, punched, and beat her with broken tree branches and rocks. Finally, the feline boy unsheathed his small claws and deeply slashed her in the shoulder, "Better remember this so you won't piss us off again, you understand?" but she was numb with pain and all her voice could produce was a small whine. The Khajiit child grabbed her by the collar of her ragged, cloth dress and shouted in her face, "I said 'do you understand' bitch?!"
"Yes! Yes! I understand!" her girlish voice squeaked when she cried out.
He threw her on the ground, "Good."
The bullies walked away and their sick laugher faded, but when it did all Rowina could her was her own sobbing. She was covered head to toe with bruises and cuts and she felt her eyes beginning to swell causing her sight to hinder. She continued to weep until a warm, gentle hand rested on her clawed shoulder, "I am so sorry, my child."
Her eyes snapped open even though it hurt like crazy. She has heard this voice, but it was not from this memory. She tried to sit up, but the pain seemed to paralyze her so she let out a mental whisper, "Who are you? You are not from this memory."
"My identity will soon become known to you child, but not yet." Her voice sounded elegant and motherly, "I can understand why you try so hard to let go of your past, but it haunts you instead and a kind friend of yours helped sooth your ongoing pain with that ring of yours. But you misplaced it."
She mentally scoffed, "How could you know that? You were never there! I don't know who you are, but stop nosing around in my mind!"
All she did was sigh, "I see I've overstayed my welcome. I am sorry."
The hand retreated and where it rested quickly turned cold. Her tears continue to run as she cried out alone in the night only hearing someone softly calling out to her.
"… Rowi…"
"Rowina…"
"… Ro… na…"
"Rowina."
She jolted awake and sat up. Her body was damp, her hair clung to her tear-stained face, and she was shaking badly. Looking around, she noticed she was back in Jorrvasker as well as her own bed and Farkas sitting in a chair next to her bed with her hand in his. His worry-creased face went wide with a mix of fear and surprise then melted into one of relief.
"It's about time you woke up," he half-joked, "Are you okay? How do you feel?"
Leaving his questions unanswered, she asked, "How long was I asleep?"
She could she the quick twinge of annoyance on his tired face, but it went back to relief, "About four and a half days."
'Four and a half days?!' she thought, "It felt like centuries, but it felt like only a second as well."
As if sensing her worry, he cut in her thoughts, "Don't worry, nothing bad happened while you were asleep." But his face went hard, "I am upset that you stormed off after I tried to help you and almost got yourself killed! It was a good thing I followed your stubborn ass!"
Shock etched her face, "You followed me?"
His tightly-wound expression went to one of realization that he slipped that up and she knew she should have felt angry, but a different feeling tightened her chest instead. Rowina instantly threw her arms around his neck and started to quietly weep and a whisper escaped her lips, "Thank you, Farkus…"
Farkus' burly arms gently squeezed her in return and they held each other. The fair-skinned woman was the first to let go and she looked at him with her face close to his. Brown eyes stared into her blue ones as they shared a twinkle. His rough hand slid up her back to cradle her cheek as their gaze never faltered. Slowly, their faces grew close, Rowina closed her eyes and they fell into a soft kiss.
