4E, 201...

Riverwood was a quiet little town, its citizen's hardworking people who all did their part. After the stroll she'd taken earlier this morning, Minerva realized one could buy everything needed at the local store without having to travel to Whiterun. The lumber mill ran by Ralof's sister made most of the coin in town, next to Alvor running the forge. She'd talked with the older blacksmith and found out he was Hadvar's uncle. After that information, she became edgy around him and excused herself.

She decided to spend some time alone near the river and was delighted when she noticed a log she could sit on. She focused on the pure water and the fish, enjoyed the soft breeze and fresh air. Her eyes darted up and she could see a ancient Nordic ruin up in the mountains, the sight alone enough to inflict nightmares. She glanced around and found that she was alone, safely hidden behind the few bushes and pine trees. Smiling, she decided to play with her magic.

She wasn't a skilled mage, but she discovered her magicka while she was imprisoned on the Summerset Isles. She would play with it every time before bed and imagine she could burn the entire elven Kingdom with her magic. Perhaps one day, she would be strong enough to do so, but to achieve such might she would have to train a lot. She summoned a tiny ball of fire and let it float in the air. She played around a little, moving it in various directions. Then she summoned a ice spike with her other hand and maneuvered it through the air along with the ball of fire.

"You're a mage?"

She recognized Ralof's voice immediately, but it startled her out of her thoughts and she turned to face him. He was standing next to a pine tree, smiling softly before he approached her. Her magic vanished and she blushed slightly at his observation when he sat beside her.

"Yes," she admitted, looking in front of her.

"The only mages seen in Skyrim are the ones in the College of Winterhold, if you don't count the various battle mages and necromancers," he informed, as if trying to keep the conversation going.

"Well, that was where I wanted to go, actually," she could feel Ralof's questioning gaze staring at her profile. Sighing, she explained, "That was my plan before I was captured."

"You're not from Skyrim?" he asked, and Minerva was glad that he wanted to get to know her, even though breaching the subject of her past still hurt.

"I am," she answered with a small smile. "I grew up in a small village on the southeast of Skyrim, near Riften." Her smile grew weary as she continued, "My father was a Nord, my mother a Breton."

"Was?" asked Ralof wearily.

Minerva's smile fell completely as she nodded weakly. The mention of her parents still hurt. "The Thalmor attacked our village; they killed my parents and the entire village to set a statement." Her voice and expression grew sadder at the memory of her home, of her father and mother. Even after so many years, she still missed them.

Ralof shifted a little, clearly uncomfortable by her revelation, "I'm sorry."

Minerva waved him off and tried to think of something else, though the memory of her family's slaughter was persistent. It made it hard to keep her calm.

"Why did they attack?" he asked cautiously as he scooped a little closer, his movement slow and precise. It should have went unnoticed, but she did and found the gesture endearing.

"We openly worshiped Talos and they wanted us as an example of what happens if someone doesn't abide to their laws."

She wanted to tell him the whole story, but something held her back. The lump that formed in her throat grew and made her unable to speak. She was grateful when he decided to remain silent, as if he could sense the emotions raging inside of her.

They remained silent for a moment, and when he spoke, his voice was soft and low as he suggested, "If you hate the Empire you should consider joining the rebellion."

The laugh coming from her was as humorless as she looked when she stated, "I'm no warrior. I would do the rebellion no good if I joined them."

"You're a mage," he pressed on, "Mage's are always needed."

"I don't even know any spells other than what you've seen earlier," she admitted, the doubt and shame ringing loud in her voice.

"Minerva," he said her name softly, "You worry too much."

"Probably," she stated absent mindedly, as though ashamed.

A comfortable silence fell over them. She didn't have the urge to speak so instead she basked in the beauty around them, admiring the bright green grass and tall trees. She found she enjoyed his presence and secretly wished they would remain like this for a while longer.

"I will head to Windhelm as soon as I recover," he broke the silence, his voice barely above the sound of nature.

The surprise caused by his sudden statement made her face widen in shock. "You will fight for the rebellion?" she wondered.

Ralof nodded and brought his sunken, dark eyes to hers. "Aye. I won't sit idle and watch as the Empire takes away all that matters to us."

Minerva thought about his statement. She had been absent from Skyrim for the past two decades, but it didn't take her long to understand there was a rebellion raging across the lands, led by the Jarl of Windhelm. Her grudge wasn't against the Empire, but said Empire allowed the elves, the Thalmor, to do as they pleased. It was the elves who had destroyed her home and had taken her to the Summerset Isles as their little pet. They have taken everything from her.

"I might join the rebellion myself," she stated as she glared at the rocky path on the other side of the river. "But first I have to go to Whiterun to warn the Jarl. Then, I will head to the College of Winterhold. I want to improve my magic before I join the rebellion."

"That's the spirit," he gave her a pat on the back before he stood up. "We might travel to Whiterun together."

Minerva looked at him, wondering, "Why?"

Ralof smiled when he explained, "I haven't been to Whiterun for a long time. Besides, someone has to watch your back," he winked before he made his way back to the house.

Minerva smiled as she watched the path he just took before she plucked a flower and brought it to her nose, inhaling its scent. Knowing she wouldn't have to travel alone made her a bit more relieved. Skyrim was still unexplored territory for her, she had no idea what dangers lurked along the path to Whiterun. She could defend herself against a group of bandits, but there was no chance she could fight off a troll on her own.

Talking to Ralof about things such as her childhood didn't feel as painful as she thought it would be, but the memories of her family's slaughter still weighed heavily on her soul. She thought about the first time she'd set foot onto Skyrim after two decades; she remembered the inn on the border between Cyrodiil and Skyrim, and after she'd entered everything had gone downhill. She wondered if things were different had she not entered the blasted inn.

####

One month ago…

Entering the inn, Minerva resisted the urge to gag at the horrid stench of piss and alcohol. The inn was full with lowlifes and mercenaries who were all but sober, demanding more mead than they could drink. The two maids fought their way through the crowd of drunkards who all called for the two women's attention. Thankfully, Minerva wore a hood and a cloak that hid her flesh from the drunkards.

Minerva sat down at a square table at the far end of the tavern, trying her best not to draw any attention. The last thing she wanted was some idiots going after her because they thought her available. Minerva wanted to eat and sleep in peace, then be on her way in the first rays of light.

The maid appeared a few moments later, clearly exhausted and out of breath. "What can I get you?" she asked as she wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand.

Minerva smiled at the polite woman before saying, "I'd like to rent a room for the night."

The maid let out a sigh, whether out of relief or something else, as she pointed with her thumb behind her shoulder at the man standing behind the bar. "You'll have to talk to the innkeeper, Herold."

Dismissing the maid with a polite, "Thank you," Minerva left her seat and went to the bar to talk with the innkeeper. Thanks to her 5'2 foot, it was easy for her to squeeze through the inn without being noticed. Taking a seat at the bar, she waved her hand at the innkeeper who arrived as soon as he attended to the customers demanding more mead.

"Hello, fine lady," he greeted annoyed. "Welcome to the Bully Troll. What can I get ya'?"

"The Bully Troll?" Minerva said with a laugh. "That's quite the name for an inn."

The innkeeper looked more annoyed at her observation as he leaned his elbows on the countertop. "Listen, lady, if you want a history lesson about the inn, then I'll have to disappoint ya'. I've no time to answer your 'funny' questions." Washing the countertop with a cloth, he asked, "What will it be?"

"I'd like to rent a room."

The man nodded, "Sure, it'll cost you ten gold pieces for the night." Minerva took out ten gold pieces and handed them to the innkeeper. When he was satisfied that the correct sum was paid, he gestured for her to follow him. He pushed through the crowd of drunkards, Minerva always a step behind him. When they reached the room, he turned to her and said, "Give a holler if you need anything," before he left the tiny room.

Minerva closed the door before she settled herself down on the straw bed. She'd remembered the soft bed during her time on the Summerset Isles, and admitted it had been the only good thing she could name during her imprisonment. The straw bed was hard and rough, and the straw dug into her skin through the thin cloth covering it, but it would do for the night. The bed was certainly more comfortable than the forest grounds.

Sleep evaded her though, but she hoped she would eventually catch a few hours of sleep. A couple of hours later her mind slowly drifted into sleep, but then she heard someone fumbling on the door knob from the other end of it before the door opened with a rusty squeak. Her heartbeat accelerated, her senses sharp as she focused on her hearing, unmoving on the bed. There were several footsteps silently moving over the wooden floor, their heavy boots announcing their presence. A shudder ran down her spine when she felt someone next to her and her eyes flew open.

A man with a grey goatee was staring at her, his breath smelling like the mead he'd been drinking. She sat up from the bed but the man pushed her back with his hand to her throat. Putting his other hand on her mouth, he told her to stay hush as three other men appeared around the bed.

Minerva's heart thudded against her eardrums as the man drew a dagger over the line of her jaw, pinning her down without even touching her. He sat down next to her, the straw giving in under his weight. "What a fine lady," he whispered drunkenly as he ran the dagger now down her throat, pushing the robe that covered her neck down to her collar. "I've set my eyes on you the moment you entered the inn."

Her attempt to avoid any attention failed. She cursed inwardly.

"Aw, don't be shy," the man cooed, "I'm sure you won't mind if we have a little fun with you. Right guys?"

They all grumbled a "Yeah," as answer as the old man started to undo the strings holding her cloak.

Minerva closed her eyes and shut out her surroundings as she summoned her magicka. She wrapped her tender fingers around the man's wrist, earning a pitiful smile from him. He opened his mouth to say something, but the words died in his throat as she used her ice magic on his wrist.

The man screamed in agony and he fell of the bed, giving Minerva all the opening she needed. She took the dagger she hid on her thigh and quickly killed the two on her right; one was rewarded with a stab to his heart, the other to his neck. The fourth stumbled back in fear and she ran past him, and squeezed her body through the crowd in the inn as she made her way to the exit.

She ran for the door and outside, and was relieved to see the horse of a Imperial guard tied to the stump. She untied the rope and mounted the horse the moment the man with his bleeding wrist came out. The older man pointed his shortsword at her and shouted, "Murderer!" earning the attention of the nearby guards.

Shit. Minerva wanted to avoid unnecessary attention and being called a murderer was not helping her plan. The horse carried her quickly through the woods while the guards mounted their horses. She looked behind her shoulder as she galloped of into the forest, relieved to see the Imperials falling more and more behind. Turning her attention back to the front, her mouth hung open at the large log that blocked their path. It was too late.

The horse tried to jump over it, but its legs were caught on the tree branches and it fell forward. Minerva landed on her side, injuring her arm while she collided with the ground. The guards were already closing in on her as she shook the dizziness from her mind, standing on wobbly legs. She started to run as fast as she could, but they caught up with her.

There was no way she could outrun them, so she pushed the cloak off of her shoulders and readied her sword. She wouldn't submit without a fight, even if it meant losing her life.

####

The Imperials had kept her imprisoned for weeks because they were convinced she was one of the Stormcloaks. They cut her food, kept her head under the water until she fell almost unconscious, even though she kept yelling she wasn't a rebel. They stopped with the torture eventually, but they humiliated her in other ways, like addressing her as they would a dog or throwing food at her. She was only sorry she couldn't kill them.

"Minerva!"

Startled out of her thoughts, she turned to find Gerdur approaching her. Minerva had no time to ask why the older woman looked that desperate; Gerdur grabbed her forearm and dragged her up on her feet before pulling her the way she came.

"You have to leave," she stated, not once looking behind her shoulder. Minerva glared at the back of her head, confused, as she dragged them back towards the house. Once inside, Gerdur locked the door then turned to face her.

"What's going on?" asked Minerva.

Gerdur was nervous and she paced a small line up and down, keeping her eyes on her when she stated, "The Thalmor are looking for you," and Minerva felt her heart plummet to her feet.

The color drained from her face when a heavy knock erupted on the door and she stopped right next to Gerdur. "Give me a sword!" she demanded.

Gerdur shook her head, "No. There are too many outside."

Another heavy knock erupted, more insistent than before.

"Open the door!" an angry, high elven voice demanded, sending chills down her spine. She hated the voice of the high elves; it stirred so many memories, none of them pleasant.

Someone stormed down the stairs and she felt relieved to find Ralof walking towards her, his face set with purpose.

"Follow me," he said as he took her wrist and gently guided her towards the kitchen. He folded the rug in the corner only to reveal a trapdoor. She watched him as he climbed down the ladder.

Gerdur explained from next to her, "That trapdoor leads through a tunnel that will get you out of Riverwood."

Minerva stopped next to the trapdoor, with Gerdur at her side as she turned to face her. "Gerdur, what if something happens to you and Hod? I could never forgive myself."

A smile flashed across Gerdur's lips as she assured, "Don't worry, if it comes to that, Hod and I know how to wield a sword."

"Come on Minerva!" called Ralof from the tunnel impatiently as another knock bombed at the door.

Minerva hurried down the ladder, Ralof steadied her with his hands on her waist and helped her down. Gerdur waved and closed the trapdoor, leaving the two of them alone.

He rummaged through a huge chest next to the ladder, then turned to her with a sword and a leather armor in hand. "You probably wield staffs but I don't have any," he said apologetically as she accepted the things from him.

Smirking, she stated, "By the Nine, no staffs. I prefer swords," and she caught the smug smile tugging at his lips. Minerva quickly put the leather armor over the shirt and leggings she wore. Even though the armor didn't fit her perfectly, she found the familiar feel of leather on her skin oddly calming.

Ralof avoided looking at her and instead admired the sword he retrieved from the chest earlier. When she was done, he couldn't help but jest, "Now you look like you can kill more than a spider." She rolled her eyes but allowed a playful smile to tug at her lips.

"At least I'm not looking like a farm boy who just learned how to wield a dagger," she countered, referring to his clothes.

Ralof let out a laugh before he led them further into the tunnel. She glanced behind her shoulder from time to time, as if to make sure no one was following them. Having a tunnel going from your house to the outskirts of the city certainly proved useful, but it made her wonder, "Why does your sister have a tunnel going from her house?"

Ralof chuckled at her question ,"My sister is a little paranoid. She always thinks one step ahead and with the war raging, she can't be too cautious. The Thalmor are unpredictable, it is only a matter of time until they investigate Riverwood."

Investigate. Minerva scowled at the word because she knew what exactly he meant by it. More like purge the village of any Talos worshippers, she thought but left it unspoken.

The rest of their little journey both remained silent. No one followed them which meant the elves didn't find the trapdoor. Relief flooded her at the knowledge of having successfully escaped the Thalmor, again. But she caught sight of Ralof pressing his healthy hand into his injured shoulder, and grunted as he did so.

"Wait," she said and was glad when he stopped. He turned halfway to look at her, but his shadowed eyes, his tight lips and sharp breaths indicated that he was in pain. She stopped right in front of him and gently moved his hand from his injured shoulder; she inhaled sharply as she noticed the dark red patch on his bandage.

"You're bleeding," she stated as she slowly started to remove the bandage.

"What are you doing? I'm fine," he pressed, but Minerva pinned him with a look alone. Unfazed, she continued to remove the bandage, and when it fell completely it revealed the badly healed wound.

"Ysmir's beard…" she muttered under her breath and summoned her healing magic. Her hand barely touched his shoulder but he tensed and hissed through his teeth. "Hold still, it'll be over soon."

Her hands started to glow in a dim white light, and the wound started to heal before their eyes. Minerva didn't train her restoration skills, but she knew enough to heal non-life threatening injuries.

"You're a healer?" he asked bewildered as she was focused on closing the wound completely.

Ignoring his question, she was satisfied when the wound healed without any problems and said instead, "There you go."

"Thanks," said Ralof as he moved his arm up and down, and smiled broadly when he found the movements didn't cause him any pain. Both resumed their journey towards the exit, and Minerva sighed in relief when they saw the bright light coming from the end of the tunnel.

"Wait here," he whispered, then went outside to inspect the surroundings. Ralof was out for quite some time and Minerva started to pace a small line, but was relieved when he reappeared.

He grabbed her hand without warning and pulled her with him towards the exit. Her eyebrows arched in surprise as she felt his strong grip leading her out, and when they stepped outside she had to squint her eyes to see.

She looked behind her shoulder and saw Gerdur's mill in the distance. Ralof pulled her further and she looked forward. Several horses were tied to the nearby trees and Ralof went to one, untying the rope from around the tree. She quickly put two and two together and stopped next to Ralof to glare at him.

"You know these horses belong to the Thalmor?!" she barked, but he was unfazed by her anger and continued with the task. Thankfully, the horse remained calm.

"There is no other way out, currently," he stated, guiding the horse away from the others.

"Ralof…" Minerva was afraid. She looked behind her shoulder again, knowing they could return any minute.

She looked back at the horse and Ralof standing next to it. He begged her with his eyes to trust him as he held the reigns, waiting for her to mount the steed first. Biting her inner cheek, she did as he requested and mounted the huge, brown steed. Ralof followed quickly and she inhaled sharply when she felt his body right behind hers.

Just then the group of Thalmor emerged from Riverwood, they already galloped off to Whiterun when one of the elves yelled after them. By the time the Thalmor mounted their steeds, Ralof and Minerva were already out of their line of sight. Ralof guided the horse away from the main road, expertly maneuvering it through the forest.

"Don't worry," he assured as they took a sharp right turn, "I know these lands like the back of my hand. They won't follow us."

"I trust you," she said, blushing slightly. She didn't know where to keep her hands, and found that grabbing the saddle was the best choice. She watched his larger hands holding the reigns, admired their color and shape, and wondered whether they felt as rough as they looked.

She blushed even harder when he stated, "I'm glad you do," because it sounded a lot more intimate than it should. It was a confession; one she didn't know how to feel about. "We'll be in Whiterun in no time. Hold tight!" he yanked the reigns and the steed galloped even faster.

She resisted the urge to lean back against his chest as she let her thoughts wander. Knowing the Thalmor knew where to look for her chilled the blood in her veins. Even thousands of miles away from their kingdom, she still had to fear their king. She thought Skyrim was a isolated enough land that would hinder the Altmer kings reach, but she underestimated him. The thought made her heart race in fear and dread loom over her.

They left the lush forests of Riverwood and took the rocky path towards Whiterun. The lump in her throat grew, the tears behind her eyes accumulated until she could barely hold them back. She was too trapped in her dread to notice she was leaned against his chest as the walls of Whiterun came to their view.

"Are you alright?" he asked softly as he pulled at the reigns and the steed slowed down into a trotting pace.

"Yes," Minerva lied and blinked the tears away. "I am just wondering how the Thalmor knew where to look for me."

"You were at Helgen and escaped; of course they would look for you in Riverwood, first," he said.

But that wasn't what Minerva meant and she shook her head a little. "That's not what I meant. How do they know I am in Skyrim?"

Ralof was silent for a while as they came closer to Whiterun's stables. He pulled at the reigns and the steed stopped, before Ralof dismounted. Minerva did the same before she watched him throwing the saddle off the road. He gave the steed a few slaps to its back before it galloped off north. Minerva watched the steed until it disappeared into the distance.

The two walked next to each other as they passed the stables, her attention to the ground below her feet.

"The Thalmor are cunning bastards," he spoke lowly from next to her. "They surely had spies following you. I cannot think of any other way they could know about your presence here, in Skyrim."

"Skyrim is far away from the high elven Kingdom," she stated, looking up to see guards from the watchtowers keeping a watchful eye on them. "But it is also my home. That's why I came back."

Ralof stopped and so did Minerva, just before the drawbridge. He faced her when he assured, "Skyrim will be free of the Thalmor once we drive the Empire out."

Minerva thought about his statement for a moment, looking at the panorama before her. She didn't know much about the rebellion, didn't even know if they stood a chance. She turned to face him with a question on her mind, "This rebellion… do you think it will succeed?"

Ralof looked like she insulted him for a second before he looked determined, "Of course! Many able bodied men and women have joined the rebellion. They are all sick of the Empire dictating their laws. It is only a matter of time until we succeed." He motioned with his head towards the city, promising, "Come, I will tell you more once we inform the Jarl of the dragon."

Minerva nodded to that and they both went through the gates.