A/N: Takes place before IYLOWAK and Indebted, but long after Upstream.
The children and Constance had been asleep for about an hour now. From the small fenced play area, Aneira had been able to hear the noise in the main hall die down to nothing once the Imperial woman and young ones finished their daily chores. Constance had bid them all good night and turned in herself after midnight from what Aneira could see with detect life.
The old woman had retreated into her own room some time before that, snapping at the kids one more time before slamming a door.
Aneira shifted her shoulders, body cramping a little from sitting against the stone wall. The dark tunic and pants she wore left her cold, but they kept her covered well thanks to the addition of a thief's hood she'd long since taken from a reckless Guild member. If anyone in the orphanage saw her, they wouldn't recognize her past the ordinary clothes, hood, and dark green war paint handprint she'd thrown on her face. No one had seen her jump behind the stone fence, thanks to a sizeable collection of invisibility potions, but it was too risky to open the door next to the children's beds. She had to wait until well after dark, when no one would notice when she jumped back out and slipped inside the main double doors.
She brought up her left hand every so often, cloaking it in purple to watch the pattern of the guard's movements around the marketplace through detect life. They usually left Honorhall alone.
The Dragonborn waited.
She'd thought Aventus had been exaggerating.
The smell of sour milk and scraps that should have been thrown to the wild dogs was the first clue. The filthy dining tables were visible after a few steps through the unlocked door, covered in a layer of grime that rested against the wood beneath the unwashed plates, bowls, and ancient cutlery. Some held the remains of bits of cheese that weren't meant to be moldy, or crusts of bread that looked hard and unpalatable. There wasn't any meat on the table beyond a slice of salmon steak, and the vegetables were raw or dried and mealy.
The second clue came when Aneira moved further into the house, frowning at the bottles upon bottles of mead and wine that sat out on the shelves near the door. The bottles looked newer than some of the food attracting bugs on the table.
The third clue came from the grating voice around the corner, unseen and unpleasant. Her eyes went wide as she realized what was being said.
"Those who shirk their duties will get an extra beating."
An elderly woman with a pinched pale face and cruel eyes stood among four children, turning in a circle around them as she berated their bent heads.
"And one more thing! I will hear no more talk of adoptions," she sneered, purple and weathered face twisting. "None of you riff-raff is getting adopted. Nobody needs you, nobody wants you."
The Dragonborn hadn't needed a fourth clue, but that was more than enough.
The door still creaked as she opened it, drawing a wince after she'd secured it again. She waited for a moment, listening to see if anyone would approach. The old building remained quiet, even with Constance's room so close. Her left-hand cast detect life again, revealing all horizontal lifeforms.
Quickly casting muffle again, Aneira crept past the dining table until she reached the main hall. She paused again, waiting.
The children slept on.
She was grateful that the fire was almost entirely banked, even as she was certain the residents shivered in their beds. The handle of the double doors was cold, and she pulled as lightly as possible until the door finally gave.
The old woman was asleep in her bed, the room dimly lit by firelight.
Aneira closed the door behind her with a soft click, staying in a crouched position as she crept to the other side of the bed.
Grelod was deeply cocooned in her fur blankets, snoring slightly.
Her eyes popped open shock as Aneira's gloved hands came down: one on her shoulder, and one on her mouth.
"Do not scream," she warned.
Jerking a little, the woman blinked rapidly for a moment. But soon her eyes narrowed back into their usual position. Aneira glared back.
"We're going to have a few words, Grelod."
"My Jarl, you cannot allow this to continue. The woman is-"
"Grelod has provided a home to orphaned and helpless children for decades, Thane Aneira. She is perfectly capable of disciplining and tending to their needs as she sees fit."
Jarl Laila passed the bowl of grilled leeks to her housecarl, barely looking up from her luxurious supper to make eye contact with Aneira.
"Quite. And surely there are more pressing matters to be dealt with than a few unruly children that require strict guidance." Anuriel added coolly, unafraid to look the Dragonborn in the face. "Or don't you think the civil war and the dragons should take precedence?"
Aneira felt her face grow stony, watching as Anuriel went back to her venison without a care in the world.
"On the contrary," she bit out politely, "the safety and well-being of children in your hold and under your care at that orphanage should be extremely important. Especially considering this whole situation can be rectified with a single document. It would hardly take more than a few minutes to draw up the document removing Grelod from her position."
"And who would you have run the place instead? You?" Anuriel sliced a clean piece of meat, chewing on it in mock contemplation as she watched Aneira again.
Roggi was sitting down at the end of the Jarl's long dinner table, slowly eating the bit of beef the servants had put in front of him. He looked decidedly uncomfortable, sitting for the first time in a Jarl's longhouse while his companion argued with her. Roggi was not a cowardly man, nor was he meek. When Aneira had begun to make her case against Grelod, Roggi had piped up that the woman seemed touched in the head, barely even noticing that he and Aneira were in the house. But having a mine laborer argue against the Jarl, her Steward, and her wealthy dinner guests wasn't accomplishing much today. The blonde had been predominantly ignored.
"There is already an assistant that does most of the work in the house anyway," Aneira replied in exasperation. "Constance. Put her in charge of things. Stendarr's mercy, the old woman isn't even allowing adopt-"
"What would you have us do with Grelod then, Dragonborn?" Maven Black-Briar spoke calmly from her seat not far from the Jarl's side. "Cast her out into the cold? After years of loyal and dedicated service to the hold? Surely you don't intend to treat an old woman so cruelly."
"An excellent point, Maven. And we have no funds in our coffers to pay Grelod some sort of stipend to live elsewhere. No, it would be best if Grelod continue to run the orphanage. We've never had any complaints before now, and all the children reach the age of majority without incident." Laila nodded with a smile to the Dragonborn, moving on to speak with Anuriel again. "We should look into sending more troops along the northern roads. I don't want to take any chances with the ore from Shor's stone."
"Of course, my Jarl. I'll look into diverting a few more from the road South of the Capital." Anuriel glanced at Aneira again. "Since our Thane intends to take care of those awful bandits holed up in the fort, we won't need as many down that way."
"Think you can intimidate me? In my own orphanage? Ha!" The old woman scoffed, straightening her spine as she sat back against the headboard of her bed. "Who do you think you are?"
"A person with some shred of decency!" Aneira glared at the scowling weathered face, the deep wrinkles cast in stark relief in the dim torchlight. "Who do you think you are? What gives you the right to beat innocent children?"
"What are you, stupid?" Grelod snapped back. "I am their guardian! I can do as I damn well please." The old woman swung her legs around the bed, curled and purple toes seeking out her slippers. "Barging into an old woman's room in the middle of the night like some sort of ruffian. You wait until the Jarl hears about this! I'm going to get the guards-"
Aneira gripped Grelod by the left arm, fingers circling her bicep before shoving her back onto the mattress. "Get the guards? You? And tell them what?" Grelod growled back, lips pursed out as her eyes blazed. Aneira pointed a finger toward the wall, indicating the sleeping children beyond. "Are you going to explain the fresh bruises on those children? Or the scars?" The Dragonborn kept her voice a low hiss, desperate both to leave the children in the outer room to their sleep as well as keep her identity hidden. She couldn't afford to have this known, not after speaking to the Jarl. Every second since entering the orphanage was a risk. "What are you even doing to them? What are those wounds on their wrists? Do you tie them up?"
The old woman's eyes darted away from Aneira's face, lighting on the wall behind her as her wrinkled lips curled into a frown. Grelod said nothing in response, leaning back on her bed and pulling her legs away from Aneira's.
"What do you do?" Aneira demanded, leaning her body over the crone's as she reigned in her temper.
Nothing about this was wise. Aneira had no misgivings about that. Julianos, her most turned to adviser, was not who she had prayed to when asking for guidance in this.
Roggi hurried away from the graveyard and back into the marketplace, giving a last quick goodbye over his shoulder. Aneira closed her eyes, hands reaching into her sack for the amulet of Stendarr she and Roggi had taken from the murdered Vigilants of Stendarr along the road just the day before.
"God of mercy," she whispered, while reaching out to the shrine of Talos, letting a blessing wash over her. "Give me guidance in this."
Ever since coming to Skyrim, Aneira felt herself praying to the compassionate and lawful god more and more; in Helgen, when she begged for deliverance when she woke up in that carriage. In Bleak Falls, when she faced the undead for the first time. Another time outside Whiterun, when she'd helped the guards and Irileth slay a dragon. Countless more when thugs and daedra and beasts of every nature came upon her.
What did mercy and compassion call for? Spare one cruel human, even at the expense of those she would continue to hurt, because she was a life Aneira didn't have the right to take? Or spare the innocents the pain of staying with that horrible wretch until they were finally sixteen and thrown out into the world?
"Protect the weak, heal the sick, and give to the needy." She recited the creed to herself again and again, staring at the shrine of Talos while holding an Amulet of Stendarr until the sun had long since slipped beyond the mountains.
The young woman couldn't say if Stendarr was with her now.
"Why do you keep looking over there?" Aneira whispered lowly, turning to face the wall. There wasn't anything there that she could see, only the usual tanned hide nailed to the wood and the door back into the main room along the side.
Grelod lurched, making an uncoordinated attempted to get off the other side of the bed. Aneira pulled back with a curse, moving to the foot of the bed while raising her right hand with a blue green light.
The calm spell landed right on the caretaker's chest, bringing up short the large breath she'd sucked in. The air sped out of her again as she exhaled calmly.
"Stay there," Aneira ordered quietly, watching as Grelod turned to look at her with a slow blink.
Hurrying on quiet feet, Aneira went back outside Grelod's room to peer out at the children. They hadn't moved that she could see, still shifting on their tiny beds. She exhaled in relief before stepping out into the room, her ordinary clothing and soft boots allowing her to move without any excessive noise. Another calming spell struck Grelod's body, giving her enough time to look around quickly.
There was another set of double doors to the left of Grelod's room, closed at the moment. It would be exactly beyond the wall in Grelod's room, with limited space before the main building wall.
Aneira swallowed, sweat beginning to bloom on her head. She brought her right hand up again, letting detect life seek out the living bodies in the orphanage. To her paradoxical relief and apprehension, nothing began to glow beyond the doors.
Keeping a careful ear on the children and spelled-Grelod, Aneira opened the doors as quietly as possible. Muffle could only do so much to help her, especially with one of the boys so close.
The room within was dark, nearly pitch black and windowless. She would have to use a light to see what was inside, and that would mean going in and closing the door behind her.
That meant another shot of calm at Grelod before it faded and she started hollering for the guards.
Darting back to the dark room, Aneira hurriedly closed the door behind her before bringing up magelight. It landed on the far wall only a few feet away.
Aneira stumbled back into the wall.
Numb horror filled her mind as she stared at the newly illuminated metal.
The shackles were dark iron, place low enough along the wall that a child's feet could reach the ground, but high enough that their wrists and shoulders would bear the strain of most of their weight.
Reaching out with a trembling hand, Aneira moved to close one of the latches. They were tight enough to draw blood, much like the scars Hroar had tried to hide from her with his sleeve.
Stendarr was not here with Grelod. And he would not be here for her now.
With a wave goodbye, Aneira watched Roggi head off into the night to find friends and laughter at the Bee and Barb. He'd become very fond of Talen-Jei's specialty drinks, although Aneira had started to worry that he would spend all his coin and end up in the same situation he'd been in back at Kynesgrove.
Aneira had told Roggi that she was going out into Skyrim for the night to gather alchemy ingredients. Roggi, as she expected, hadn't been overly interested in catching luna moths and torchbugs.
Iona had only nodded, watching her as always with those probing eyes. Aneira had wondered idly who Iona actually reported on her to: Maven or Anuriel. It hardly mattered, since she didn't give her much to go on. But she couldn't have Iona offering to follow her for the night. It would cause too many problems to try to lose her.
Her tenacity for planning for as many details as possible would aid her tonight, but it couldn't cover everything that might happen in Skyrim's city of thieves.
She left through the side door of Honeyside, changing hurriedly out of her usual scaled armor and into the long sleeves of the brown tunic and pants she'd collected from Cragslane a few weeks before. The armor was all left under the porch dining table, with a prayer that Iona wouldn't come out to find it.
Moving quickly, Aneira took her fishing boat to the mostly unused portion of fishery docks before shoving it powerfully back toward Honeyside. It would rest against the shore, and wouldn't raise any alarm should a passerby see it.
If she had to jump in the water after her conversation with Grelod, so be it.
The invisibility potion and muffle spell got her back inside behind one of the guards on patrol through the doors at the fishery, and the bitter drink lasted long enough for her to leap over the low stone wall to wait for the orphanage to be silent.
"You-" Aneira couldn't finished, choking on the words while the latest calming spell faded. Grelod blinked blearily a few times, looking around the room for a moment before taking a step back.
"Get out." The wretch ordered, not bothering to modulate her voice low enough. But Aneira was past caring.
"How do you sleep at night?" Aneira whispered, moving closer until Grelod was sitting down on her bed again, still trying to shift backwards. Her mouth twisted into another sneer.
"Just fine, when worthless Riften gutter trash isn't waking me up!" The crone sat up straighter, reaching up with her left hand to point a crooked finger at Aneira's chest. "That's all you are. And I've had enough of your filth for one night."
Aneira seized that raised hand, fingers wrapping tightly around the pale bony wrist.
"You torture children." Even as she said it, even as she remembered the small room, Aneira couldn't quite believe it. Her voice still held that incredulous note, even as she tried to sound fierce. "You torture children."
Her father had been a healer. Her grandmother taught her potions of healing before all others. Her mother had told her of the necessity to kill in battle, where at least there would be honor in death.
Her family had taught her to value the lives of others.
The Dragonborn valued the lives of the four children sleeping battered and beaten in the other room.
More than her conscience.
And more than the wicked woman cursing at Aneira to let her go.
She tightened her grip, letting her magicka concentrate around her fingers until it bloomed into the crackle of lightning.
Grelod stiffened, her last great inhale turning into a scream. The shriek escaped before Aneira let the spell release, sending a surge of lighting up the frail and skinny arm for several endless seconds until the cry cut off.
The elderly body collapsed against the bed, legs draped over the edge so that her torso was held aloft by only Aneira's grip on her wrist.
The Dragonborn released her, letting the arm fall to the bed with a gentle thump. She backed away, moving until her shoulders pressed against the wall opposite the bed. The wall that separated the bedroom from the shackles.
Sounds had started up in the main room, the frantic whispers of the children slipping past the door.
Aneira watched the doors as the sounds grew nearer, an awful numbness taking over her mind after the fury and disgust that had been choking her in the punishment room.
Dimly, she understood that her survival instincts had just kicked in. And they had always been painfully pragmatic.
Throwing up another muffle, she readied her Illusion magicka in both hands.
Heavy footsteps thudded closer until the doors began to move.
"Grelod? Ma'am, are you alright?"
Constance opened the doors to a blast of calm against her heart, leaving her wide eyes drooping and unfocused. The children were huddled behind her, looking around in the darkness and blinking sleepily.
She couldn't hesitate now. Aneira kept her head turned away from the light as she rushed past Constance, feeling the children yelp and gasp as pushed through them and headed toward the door.
"Oh, hello." Constance spoke distantly. "What did you need?"
Aneira pressed her lips tightly together to hold back her apology, unable to do anything except launch one final calm at Constance before she left the orphanage, desperate to buy herself a few extra seconds before the guards came running. The children's voices were already raised in alarm as their main caretaker stood motionless among them.
There was no chance that Constance wasn't going to scream bloody murder, almost literally, once that illusion spell faded.
The Bruma native was out the main door in seconds, darting into the darkness while her fingers felt frantically for the last invisibility potion in her small satchel. She drank it down hurriedly before moving away from the wooden wall, sprinting without much concern for the tap of her feet on the marketplace bridges as she sped toward the doors at the fishery.
The invisibility potion was dispelled as she went through the door at the fishery, and the large door closed just as Constance's scream pierced the night air. It echoed over the still water of the lake as Aneira dashed for the dock closest to Honeyside and dove swiftly into the chilled water.
Once she was safely standing on her back porch again, incriminating clothing removed and war paint thoroughly scrubbed away, Aneira let herself sink to the wooden planks and rest her back against the house. Her head hit the wood slowly, the weathered grain of the logs digging into her scalp through her hair as the Dragonborn listened to the gentle-hearted woman's hysterical cries.