Disclaimer: I do not own The Elder Scrolls Series, Skyrim, or any characters I've used except Greta and this version of the Dragonborn.

Previously:

Moving weakly on unsteady legs, as the intense throbbing was back, she walked slowly. There was blood everywhere and she couldn't stop trembling at the sight of it. Aela had wandered into the dense wooded area somewhere. She wanted to comfort the other woman, but couldn't move fast enough to catch up to her. Filnjar was dead, her father barely alive, and Greta was gone.

Chapter 4: The Morning After

Sylgja sat alone on the stoop in front of her little house. Her father's limp form was currently resting in her small, but warm bed. Her mother, Annekke, had left a short while ago to find help - leaving for Riften in the hope that one of the priests could return to see about healing Verner and for assistance in giving Filnjar a proper burial.

Although she didn't feel comfortable leaving Sylgja, somebody had to wait for Aela in case she returned and to tend after the injured man. Taking one of the brown horses abandoned by the slain Stormcloaks, she left for the hold. The Stormcloaks were still out there, but having razed the village and leaving with Greta as his trophy, she had doubts that Ulfric would be back. There was nothing left to destroy. There was nothing left to take. Neither Odfel nor Annekke had mentioned the girl, although she had seen the worry on their faces as they whispered in hushed voices moments before Annekke left.

Odfel walked out of the small house, standing awkwardly he stared down at Sylgja's smaller form. Shaking her head softly, she started sobbing again. She still couldn't believe that Filnjar was dead and prayed that Greta wasn't as well. Neither said anything, just craving that silence. Gazing out at the wreckage, she wished that this was all just a dream. The few crops growing behind Odfel and Greta's home had perished with the flames. At Aela and Filnjar's home, only the forge was intact. Everything else withered away.

Sylgja sat watching Odfel as he walked around her tiny home. She still hadn't said anything to him, not that there was anything she could say. His house had burnt to the ground, and his sister stolen right under his nose.

"It's getting late, Sylgja." He said. "You should rest. Your mother will be back by dawn."

She nodded, but made no attempt to move.

"I'll keep watch." He ushered. "Do you want me to lay some furs on the floor for you?"

"Nay." She whispered. There was no way she could sleep right now. Verner, groaning in pain, rolled onto his side. Tremors seized his body, breathing shallowly he shuddered as if he were cold. Sylgja, observed him for a moment. Noticing a few beads of sweat along his forehead she grabbed one of the linen wraps off the table and walking over to the kettle, she removed the lid and dipped the rag in the now cool water. Moving over to her father, she ran the cool rag along the side of his face. His tanned skin was clammy. Settling, his breathing calmed as Aela stormed into Sylgja's small home.

Her once bright green eyes were red and swollen. Her face sullen. Sylgja jumped to her feet, rushing to embrace the other woman. Fury blazing in her eyes as they eyes settled onto Odfel, now standing near the mantle. She was still livid. Feeling uncomfortable with her eyes him, Odfel started moving towards the door.

"I need some air." He said as he promptly eased out the narrow doorway, "I'll just be right outside."

Turning back to Sylgja as Odfel closed the door gently, Aela stated, "I'm leaving tomorrow."

"To where?" Sylgja asked softly.

"Whiterun." She replied. "I'm going to the Companions for help."

Sylgja nodded, although she didn't know much of the hold. Being centrally located, there was a large market for trade. She stood watching the taller woman storm around the small space, taking short choppy steps as she paced back and forth. Sylgja had finally calmed down enough to stop crying, but watching Aela unable to calm herself was unsettling.

"I won't let Filnjar's death have been in vain." She said. Sylgja touched her arm softly. Aela stopped moving and glanced at her a moment. Tears forming in the corner of her eyes.

"And I won't leave Greta to die." She whispered. "Filnjar used to talk of their heroic deeds. He once wanted to join."

"What happened?" Sylgja asked.

"He took an arrow to the knee." She chuckled mirthlessly then shook her head slightly, "Said adventuring wasn't for him anymore."

She walked away from Sylgja and the brunette stood limply, watching, waiting. Looking for some kind of answer. Aela was so sure of what she wanted, what she needed. Sylgja could only hope for that kind of clarity. The closest she had ever experienced that was in that moment with the handsome stranger. There had been no expectations; he didn't know her as Sylgja, the miner girl with the lame leg. There was no judgment or pity. She was free to be who she wanted. Sighing, she glanced at the door as Odfel came back in and took a seat at the dining table.

The girls quieted as he made himself comfortable. His back towards them, as he faced the door. Within only a few moments he slumped forward in slumber. Snoring softly, his large belly rose and fell with each breath.

"What about you?" Aela whispered suddenly. "There's nothing for you here. Will you go to Darkwater Crossing with Odfel and your parents?"

Sylgja turned and her eyes landed on the jar of salve that was still on the table. She lifted the jar off the table, examining the name once more.

Aela watched her, while she stared at the jar. She didn't pry, but there was more behind it. Granted, a lot had happened, but even before the raid Sylgja had already seemed different. Being with the stranger had changed her somehow and not necessarily in a bad way.

"Nay," she whispered. "I will not."

It was just a short while to dawn. Both Sylgja and Aela had slept on the pallet on the floor. Stirring, the girls woke one by one. A ray of sunshine beaming across the cold wooden floor brightened the room instantly. Yawning, Aela stretched her arms above her head. She had a restless sleep, but was anxious to leave. Feeling Sylgja's brown eyes on the back of her neck, she turned. Odfel was already gone.

"Can I go with you?" the girl asked suddenly. Aela considered her for a moment, before nodding.

Sylgja smiled gently. Aela's hardened expression unchanging.

"We'll have to gather a few things." Aela said. "I'll see what I can salvage after the memorial."

Sylgja nodded. After the other woman walked out, she quickly grabbed a small sack and packed everything the man had left behind, including the blanket and the salve. She shoved two furs, her other dress, a few rolls of bread, and the amulet into the pack as well. That was all that would fit. She wished she had a canteen, but she never traveled anywhere to need one. Glancing around the room, there was nothing else in particular that she needed to bring. The dagger was already secured into her waistband. She snatched the bag off the table and walked out the door.

Annekke was here already, having arrived with the priest and one of the priestesses by horse and cart. The priestess was walking towards the home. Carrying a vial in one hand and a small purple sack with long stems extending out of the small opening, she greeted the two women. Offering her condolences to Aela, she proceeded to enter the home.

Odfel and the owner of the cart were lifting Filnjar off the back. His body having already been retrieved and altar of sticks constructed in the center of the town. Reaching the altar they placed him gently upon it and lightly wrapped his body in a soft white linen shroud. The priest lifting the edge gently and removed the man's wedding ring and handed it to Aela. Her knuckles white as she clutched it to her chest, while the priest mumbled something to her quietly. His sword placed upon the body.

Everyone stopped moving and was now focusing on the older man. He turned, and lifting up the bronze amulet in his hands he said, "We grieve, at this loss….we weep, for the fallen…and for ourselves, we take our leave." Aela, placing his ring on her index finger, stepped forward and removed the sword from atop the shroud. Holding it in one hand, she watched as they set the body alight. Flames transforming the clean, white shroud into a dull black as it burned with his body.

Alright! Please review and let me know what you think. Thanks in advance!

~ES