Kun Neh Oblaan: Malingren Kalah

by RedWolfGirl

Malingren Kalah is a collection of short stories set in the Kun Neh Oblaan storyline. If you have not read the main story, be warned these shorts have spoilers. More details on the individual stories are in my profile.

4. The Price of Powder

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Skyrim or it's characters. This story is based on the game storyline, but does on occasion fall victim to my creative liberties. Some things may be out of order, non existent, or go off on a completely new path. Hope you will forgive me, and enjoy.

WARNING: This story is rated T.

The Price of Powder

Lucia

"Now remember, the leaves need to be completely dry before you start this next step. Otherwise you'll just end up with a pile of mush that won't be of any good to you." Ms. Serana said as she held up the strange smelling leaf for Lucia to inspect. Lucia noted the color and texture of the plant and committed it to memory. "I suggest you hang it high up on a nail when drying it out. Don't want it to touch someone's bare skin by accident. Always wear gloves when handling this and wash your hands and gloves immediately after handling it. Got that, Lucia? Remember our first rule?"

"Safety first." Lucia said carefully, earning her a pleased nod from the vampire.

"That's right. Your mother would throttle me good if anything happened to you." Ms. Serana said. She said it almost as a passing thought. Like she wasn't expecting a response. Sort of like what Mama did sometimes when she didn't think Lucia was listening.

"Mama wouldn't throttle you, Ms. Serana. Mama really likes you. I can tell."

That seemed to stagger Ms. Serana for a moment, her hands pausing as she carefully crushed the itchy leaves in the stone bowl with the… pestle. A mortar and pestle, Ms. Serana called it. Though she tried to hide it, Lucia's statement seemed to bother Ms. Serana. Lucia couldn't understand why. They'd seemed so… happy together the first day Mama and her "friend" came home. But… after Aunt Aela's visit, and that fight, Lucia noticed something had changed between them. Aunt Aela was off on one of her hunting trips, and Mama and Ms. Serana were uneasy with each other.

Like last summer when Mila and Lars had that fight. It took two whole days for them to finally start talking to each other again. And they'd only done that after Lucia had threatened to never speak to either of them again unless they straightened things out. Only what was wrong between Mama and Ms. Serana was bigger. Lucia had been trying to get the two talking again, but they were both stubborn. Like most adults everywhere.

Lucia expected Ms. Serana to ignore the comment and continue on with the lesson. Mama always did that when she was avoiding a certain topic. She always took forever to make up her mind. But Mama would always sit down and talk when she was good and ready. It was a little annoying at times. However, Ms. Serana didn't do what Lucia had expected. Yes, she continued crushing the leave in the mortar and pestle, but she asked, "You think your mother likes me, do you?"

Surprised but also excited, Lucia nodded, "Mama never brings anyone home. Not ever."

"Is that why it surprised your aunt so much? Why she got angry?"

Lucia thought about it. "No, I don't think that was it. Or at least… not all of it. Did… Did Mama tell you about the vampires who took me?"

Ms. Serana nodded. "She did. That must have been scary."

"I don't remember much. I got hit in the head and slept through most of it. But I think that's why Aunt Aela got so angry. Probably thought Mama had gone crazy or something letting a vampire in the house." Lucia quickly added. "Not that you're bad, Ms. Serana. I like you. And I trust you. So does Mama. Otherwise she wouldn't have brought you here. She's really, really protective."

Ms. Serana chuckled. "Yes, I've noticed."

Lucia watched carefully as Ms. Serana checked on her progress with the crushing and added something else to the mix. She also watched the vampire's face while they talked. Ms. Serana was very, very good at keeping her thoughts out of her expressions. A lot like Mama was. She was… graceful in motion, just like any other vampire. Or at least that's what Mama said about them. They were… predators. Even Mama herself got that way sometimes when her wolf was close to the surface.

Every time they spoke about Mama, Ms. Serana reacted physically in some form or fashion. Not a lot though, but enough for an attentive eye to catch. Her hands would pause a fraction of a second, or one side of her lip would curl in a small smile. One she'd hide quickly.

"Ms. Serana," Lucia started.

"Mmm?" The vampire made the questioning sound almost absently, focusing on her task.

"Do you like my Mama?"

Ms. Serana started, fingers nearly dropping the stone pestle at her startled movement. Wide, slightly surprised, red eyes turned on Lucia. "What?"

Gotcha, Lucia thought, though she hid her grin. She repeated, "Do you like Mama?"

Seeming relieved, Ms. Serana smiled down at her. "Of course. I did say she was my friend, didn't I?"

"Your 'very best' friend." Lucia repeated what she'd been told that first night Mama came home with the vampire in tow. She decided to push the question further. Just a little. "But it's not just 'like'. You like Mama. And she likes you."

Ms. Serana didn't say anything for a few seconds. Didn't do anything in fact. For a heartbeat, the vampire simply looked into the bowl of crushed leaves. Instantly, Lucia felt a bit guilty. Obviously, Ms. Serana did feel something towards Mama, but… something else was in the way. Something big.

Lucia carefully placed her smaller, tanner, hand over Ms. Serana's. The contact made the vampire twitch once, but not pull away. "I'm sorry, Ms. Serana. You don't have to say anything. I shouldn't have brought it up."

"That's alright, Sweetheart." Ms. Serana said after a moment. Finally she turned and looked at Lucia with another one of those small smiles she tried to hide. "You're right though. I do care for your mother. I'm just… not sure- It's hard to explain."

Why do adults make everything so complicated? Lucia sighed internally.

"Hey, if you two are done trying to blow up the house…" Mama called from the top of the basement stairs. Ms. Serana even flinched at Mama's voice. Both Lucia and Ms. Serana turned to look up at the tall, shadowy figure blocking the light from upstairs. "Supper is ready. Don't let it get cold."

"We'll be up in a minute, Alessia." The vampire said, giving Mama a warm smile.

Mama returned the smile and was gone. Before either one could stand to follow after the werewolf, Lucia tugged gently on Ms. Serana's sleeve. "Talk to my Mama, Ms. Serana. Whatever it is you think is… hard to talk about or explain… Mama is a very good listener. And she's smart. If anyone can help, she can. You just gotta give her a chance."

To her surprise, Ms. Serana actually seemed to think about the advice she'd been given. Besides Mama and Lydia, only a handful of other adults in Whiterun listened to her about anything important. A slow smile creased the vampire's face, her fangs plainly visible behind her lips. She took Lucia's hand and squeezed it gently. "That is very sage advice. I promise I will do just that. Thank you, Sweetheart. "

"Lucia… Stop pestering Serana." Mama called from upstairs. "Delaying won't make an unpleasant task any less unpleasant. Believe me, cold squash is very unpleasant."

Chuckling, Ms. Serana pushed Lucia towards the stairs. "Let's hurry before she adds extra helpings."

---

Lucia focused on Ms. Serana's teaching for the next few days while Mama healed. The poultice they'd made for Mama's silver burn was continuing to work wonders. Though Lucia made no comment, the burn wasn't the only thing being mended. Mama and Ms. Serana were talking more. Laughing more. At night after supper they'd sit together and read whatever book Lucia chose. Sometimes Ms. Serana would read. Sometimes Mama. It felt… nice. Right, somehow.

When the day came where Mama and Ms. Serana were to travel to the western edge of Skyrim, Lucia did absolutely everything to prolong the inevitable. She ate her breakfast slowly. Dressed slowly. Mismatched her shoes on purpose and pretended not to know where the other was. Both Mama and Ms. Serana spent nearly half an hour looking for the wayward shoe she'd hidden at the bottom of her treasure chest. But… no one could ever pull the wool over Mama's eyes for long. Eventually, Lucia caved and put on her shoes before following Mama, Ms. Serana, and Lydia out the door.

They walked the path down to the stables, Lucia taking smaller steps to slow the pace. Though she knew Mama was aware of her new tactic, she didn't say anything. She simply altered her stride to match Lucia's. So did Ms. Serana, who was trying, and failing, to hide her mirth. Lydia was as stalwart as ever, marching along behind the three a few paces. No doubt the housecarl's eyes were scanning the area looking for any dangers.

Jasa trotted about the paddock and greeted them happily when she caught sight of them. As planned, the carriage driver was packed and ready to go. It took only a few minutes for Mama to saddle Jasa and lead her down the path a ways. That was as far as Lucia was allowed. She stopped and waited until the departing pair turned to her with sad smiles.

Ms. Serana hugged her first. "I'm glad we got to know each other this past week. I hope to see you again soon."

"Bye, Ms. Serana." Lucia said in a small voice. "Look after my Mama?"

"With both eyes." Ms. Serana chuffed and padded Lucia's cheek. "Keep up with your lessons and remember our rules."

"Yes, Ma'am."

Unexpectedly, Ms. Serana winked at her and whispered. "About what we talked about the other day. I think I know what to do. And I have a good feeling about it too."

Lucia giggled as Ms. Serana stood back. Mama came over from talking with Lydia with one raised eyebrow and a smirk on her face. "What are you two whispering and giggling about?"

"Just girl talk." Ms. Serana said as she spun on her heels and went to the carriage.

"Girl talk?" Mama glanced back and forth between the two. "Why does that suddenly make me cold to my bones?"

"Mama…" Lucia moaned. "Ms. Serana was just trying to make me feel better about you leaving. Do you really have to go so soon?"

A familiar frown fell on Mama's face. Lucia knew her mother didn't like going away. She also knew it was necessary. Mama was a hero. She helped people. Saved lives. And when that was done, she came home. Like in the song. The hero always came home. Always. Maybe one day, when enough good was done, Mama could stay. Maybe… Maybe Ms. Serana could stay too.

"I'm sorry, Little One. We'll be back soon." Mama pulled her into a tight hug and Lucia tried not to cry.

"How soon?"

"With luck and fair weather, as soon as we can." After a moment, Mama grinned. "If I remember… the seamstress who made that gown you liked lives in Dragon Bridge. Someone might have ordered her daughter a new dress a few weeks ago. That same someone might visit said seamstress to pick up this new dress. What do you say, Serana? Think we can find time for that?"

Ms. Serana grinned, apparently having been in on the surprise. "You spoil the child. I approve."

"Really?" The excitement grew in Lucia's voice.

"Really. You're growing like a weed, Little One. Before long you'll be as tall as me." Mama ruffled Lucia's hair. She giggled and shoved her hand away. "Alright, time to go. Give your Mama one last hug and we'll be off."

They hugged one last time, Mama placing a kiss on her brow before pulling herself up onto Jasa's back. As expected, Lydia allowed her only a few minutes to watch the carriage rumble away down the road before nudging her back towards Whiterun. Lucia always hated the few hours after Mama left. She'd always forget and go looking for someone who wasn't there. Once she remembered, a wave of sadness would overtake her and the rest of the day would be ruined. It happened no more than an hour later.

"Lydia, may I go play with Mila? I don't want to stay in the house all day…" Lucia asked the housecarl. Lydia was busy cleaning some of her armor, polishing the breastplate to a near mirror shine.

"Aye, you may. Be back for lunch. If you like, we can go to the Bannered Mare and have Ysolda make us a few of those meat pies you like. The one's with that spicy gravy?" The housecarl knew her charge didn't fare too well on the days of her mother's departure and usually took extra care to take her mind off it. "I'll bet Ysolda would even throw in a few sweetrolls if you asked."

Pleased, Lucia nodded, gave her keeper a quick hug then darted out. Mila's house was only just down the street. It was possible that she wasn't home, sometimes she helped her mother at their stall in the market, but some days she didn't. The house was closer so Lucia decided to try there first. Her knock went unanswered, which wasn't a surprise.

"Battle-Born! Give me your money!"

"I told you already. I don't have any money."

Lucia jumped at the sudden sound of a blow and a yelp of pain. She recognized the voice and started running.

"I said five Septims! Now it's ten!"

"Ow… My nose…"

As Lucia rounded the corner, a familiar scene laid out before her. Lars, one of her best friends, stood with his back against a wall and his hands holding his bloody nose. He wasn't a big boy. Not even a little. Lars was tall, but thin. More built for running rather than fighting, unlike his family name suggested. The girl standing in front of him, fists up and ready to strike again, was the town bully. Braith was a year younger than Lucia. Younger, but bigger and meaner. Her mother wasn't all too nice either. But, oddly, her father was pretty nice.

Lucia said nothing as she charged forward. Her war cry startled both Lars and Braith. She didn't intend to strike the bully, just make her back off her friend. The ploy worked. Braith backed off a few steps and Lucia was able to get between Lars and his attacker.

The bigger girl sneered. "Well, well… Looks like your girlfriend saves you again, baby Battle-Born. Hey, Orphan. Heard your Mama left town this morning. Off to save the day again? Maybe she likes being gone. Being gone and away from you."

Like she'd seen Mama do hundreds of times to intimidate someone, Lucia ignored the jab and growled, "Get out of here, Braith. Leave us alone."

The intimidation worked. The bully took a step back. Only one, but it was a big one. Braith narrowed her eyes. "Just because your Mama's a big deal around here doesn't mean you are, Orphan! You're not even her blood. Your real family didn't want you. Nobody wants you! That's why she's gone all the-"

"Excuse me children, is something amiss?" Danica Pure-Spring, a priestess at the Temple of Kynareth in Whiterun, appeared seemingly out of nowhere and inserted herself into the squabble. The priestess wore the common pale yellow robes with a hood and rope belt. She stood calmly and looked over the scene, focusing on Lars with his bloody nose. After a moment, Danica turned to Braith. "I do believe your father is looking for you, child. Be on your way and seek him out without delay."

While Braith was hot tempered and mean, she wasn't exactly stupid. Not even she would lash out at a priestess. With one last angry look at Lucia, one that promised future repercussions, the girl trotted off and was gone from sight.

Threat gone, Lucia turned her attention to Lars. "Are you alright? How's the nose?"

Through a pinched nose that made his voice sound funny, Lars groaned, "Hurts."

"Why didn't you fight back?" Lucia sighed. "Why don't you ever fight back?"

"I don't know." The boy muttered sadly, flinching away as Lucia tried pulling his hand away.

They both stilled when Danica bent to examine his nose. The priestess frowned. "I believe this might be broken, young Battle-Born. I should take you to your father."

"No!" Lars looked panicked. "No, i-it's alright. Really. Once the bleeding stops, I'm sure it will be fine."

Danica's frown deepened. "It will not be 'fine'. This must be seen to, Lars."

"Please, Danica… My father already calls me a milk drinker. How am I supposed to explain that I got beaten up by a girl?"

Lucia huffed. "Mila and I beat you up all the time."

"Yeah, but you're my friends. And you don't bloody my nose or take my money either."

"Children." The one word Danica silenced them. Once there was quiet, the priestess turned to Lars. "At least come to the temple and let me tend to it. If we are lucky, your father might not need to know. Will the compromise suffice?"

Lars nodded and Danica led the pair down the street and into the Temple of Kynareth. The temple smelt of strong incense. Mama always said it was to help cover the stink of the sick the priests and priestess' brought to the temple to heal. In a small alcove just to the side of the main entrance was the shrine of Kynareth; a violent tinted owl sculpture with a body of iron, a beak of sapphire and eyes of moonstones. Danica paused at the shrine and muttered a short prayer before continuing on into the temple proper. Lucia paid her respects in a similar way, just as Mama had shown her, before following after the priestess. Lars did likewise.

Danica nodded and smiled her approval before motioning them towards the rear of the temple. "This way, children. First room on the right, if you please."

The inside of the room was sparse, as most rooms in the temple were. A few chairs, a table, and a tall cabinet were the only furniture in the room. Nothing that depicted a sense of uniqueness in character of the owner, no color and nothing out of place. Neat and tidy, as Mama called it.

"Have a seat, Lucia. Lars, on the table." Danica said as she went over to the cabinet. The children obeyed while the priestess rummaged around in the bottles and beakers of various liquids. She came out with a bottle of some clear liquid and a clean cloth, then started carefully cleaning the blood from Lars' face. He flinched despite her gentle touch. Lucia flinched too. Broken noses were never pretty, though Mama said they didn't hurt too bad. Still, Lucia never hoped to learn whether that was true or not. In the silence while she worked, Danica asked, "What happened between you and the other girl?"

At first Lars wouldn't say anything, but with a little coaxing he started talking. As Lucia had expected, Braith had cornered her friend and demanded he give up all his coin. It wasn't unheard of. Braith was well known as a brat who constantly got into fights with everyone around Whiterun. Her mother and father were… neglectful. Or at least that was the word Mama used. She'd even gone to talk with Braith's parents a few times. After that, the bullying only got worse. And poor Lars was often her target of choice. He never fought back. Not ever. Even with both Lucia and Mila beside him, he never once threw a punch.

After the story had been told, Danica was quiet for a moment as she tilted Lars' head back and peered up his nostrils. "Have you not spoken to your mother or father? Surely they could do something about this girl."

"Yes, I told them. Mother spoke with Braith's mother, but that ended badly. Father told me to stand up for myself, but…" Lars cut off. "I can't do it."

"And why is that, child?" The priestess asked. "Both your parents and the girl's parents know of the issue. None of them have done anything about. Should it not then be up to you to deal with Braith?"

"Well, yeah, but…" Lucia's friend sighed. "I don't want to hit a girl."

Lucia barked a laugh. "You hit me and Mila. Why not Braith? She's a bully."

"We roughhouse. We play. It's not real." Lars snapped. "If I hit Braith, it will be for real. And I don't want to do that. Not even if she's terrible."

Danica paused for a moment, thinking. After a second, she smiled. "That is a noble quality in one as young as you. To withhold violence, even justified violence, shows maturity. As a man, it is important that you understand and respect the 'fairer sex'. But also, you yourself must understand and respect yourself."

Lars blinked. "I'm sorry. What does that mean?"

"It means, young Battle-Born," Danica chuckled, her eyes glittering. "Demand that this girl show you the same respect you have given her. Settle your differences, whatever those might be, however you can."

"Talk? You're telling me to talk to Braith?" Lars shook his head. "You obviously don't know anything about this girl. I have talked to her. All it cost me was a black eye and a whole weeks worth of allowance."

Still grinning, the priestess muttered a few words of magic. Her hand pulsed with a dull white light as she placed it over Lars' nose. Within seconds, the bruising was gone. That done, Danica continued. "I said, settle your differences however you can. If words will not sway Braith, find something that will."

After Priestess Danica shooed them out of the temple, Lucia walked with Lars until they reached the large Battle-Born house. Lars seemed hesitant to go inside. Hoping to be helpful, Lucia asked, "Do you want to come back to my house? Lydia won't mind if you come have lunch with us at the Bannered Mare."

"No, I should stay. I promised I'd help Grandmother with her knitting. She has trouble counting the stitches sometimes." Despite himself, Lars smiled at her. "Thanks though. I'll be out later on today. We can play hide and seek again."

"Deal. Mila too?"

"Yeah. It's more fun with more people. Meet at the usual place?"

Lucia nodded, but delayed running off home. "We'll think of something to make Braith back off, Lars. I promise we will."

"Thanks. You're a good friend."

Plans made, Lucia darted off towards the Plains District.

---

The day went on quickly after lunch. Ysolda did indeed have a few sweetrolls hot out of the oven. Lucia had only one and kept the other to share with Mila and Lars later on that evening. The three met up in their usual spot behind the Drunken Huntsman. Lucia shared her remaining sweetroll, earning her the honorary extra twenty seconds of hiding in their game. They ran about all afternoon until the sun went down then they each headed off on their own separate ways home. Lars looked better as he left. A little lighter of heart than he had been earlier in the day.

Lydia was waiting for Lucia as she entered Breezehome, the scent of roasted meat strong in the air. They ate and talked about all the good places Lucia had found to hide in. Her guardian always seemed interested in the hiding places her charge found. Perhaps it had something to do with protecting her, or maybe being able to find her in an emergency. Lucia never knew which.

After supper, the pair worked on her studies. Tonight was primarily math. More specifically, measurement conversions. She'd gotten pretty good at conversions thanks to Ms. Serana's lessons. They were probably the most boring part of alchemy. But… probably the most important part. Studies done for the night, Lucia asked if she could go downstairs and do a few of the exercises Ms. Serana had left for her. Looking a bit worried, Lydia gave her assent.

Lucia went downstairs and picked up the small journal Ms. Serana had insisted she started keeping. It contained all the notes she'd taken during her lessons. On the very first page were the rules. Number one was, of course, safety first and a list of all the precautions she needed to take before doing anything else. Gloves, goggles, apron and so on. Next, rule two, stay clean and organized. Rule three, if you have time for one potion, you have time for two. The next few were mostly what not to do during certain processes.

Lucia set to work on a few of the exercises, focusing on the basics Ms. Serana had shown her. Mostly just preparation work. Measure this, measure that, crush to a fine powder and so on. While searching through her notes, Lucia noticed a small slip of paper hidden in her journal. On it was Ms. Serana's familiar handwriting. After reading a few seconds, Lucia realized it was a recipe for an itching powder. At the bottom of the note was a short message obviously intended for her.

Lucia,

As I promised, if you can master this basic recipe I will teach you something more advanced when your mother and I return. Be safe and remember our rules. That said, perhaps you might consider employing the powder against that bully you were telling me about. Just a thought.

Ms. Serana

Lucia's grinned from ear to ear. "That's perfect."

Looking at the list of ingredients, all of them were apparently dry and needed only to be crushed and mixed together in the correct measurements. Easy enough. The hardest part would be to locate the correct ingredients. But that was a part of rule two. Clean and organized. Every alchemical ingredient was carefully labeled and stored in it's proper place. All dried ingredients were in a cabinet just on the other side of the room. From there they were organized alphabetically.

Lucia went to the cabinet and began picking through the corked bottles for what she needed. She found all but one thing: dried giant lichen. Odd considering there was an open space between two bottles where the lichen should have been. Either… they never had it in stock to begin with or… Ms. Serana wanted her to go to Arcadia's Cauldron and buy it herself. She had expressed a shyness to go to the shop by herself. Apparently Ms. Serana thought she needed the experience. And to prove it was an accurate guess, Lucia noticed the few golden coins in place of the lichen bottle upon further inspection of the cabinet.

She sighed and accepted the inevitable, but decided not to go tonight. The shop was probably closed anyway. So Lucia set herself to prepare what ingredients she did have. Which was more than enough work to last until bedtime. When Lydia called down for her to start getting ready for bed, Lucia tidied up and washed herself thoroughly in accordance with rule number one.

Sleep came easy that night. Easier than any other night in the past after Mama had left. Thanks to Ms. Serana, Lucia had something positive to focus on. She still missed her Mama and her new "friend", but it didn't hurt quite as much as it had in the past. With luck, her new scheme would get Braith off their backs once and for all.

Frothar

"What do you mean, 'It isn't ready yet'? How is it not ready yet? It's been five days!"

Frothar leaned his head down, thinking how nice it would be to bang his head on the table a few times to drown out his sister Dagny's shrieking voice. At the very least he might render himself unconscious until the tantrum was over and done with. Even his younger brother, Nelkir, seemed about ready to break too. Normally his brother was skilled at completely ignoring everything and everyone around him. But now… Obvious lines of agitation showed in his brother's face.

"Father promised me a new dress days ago! Where is it? What have you been doing all this time, servant?"

Finally, Frothar could take no more. "Dagny, it takes time to make a dress. You know this. Show a little patience and give Irwaen some time."

"Now you've done it…" Nelkir muttered under his breath.

Dagny, the seamstress, Irwaen, forgotten turned on her elder brother. "I don't want to be patient! I want my new dress!"

"And I want to have my breakfast in peace. However, my spoiled brat of a little sister insists on berating a kindly old woman for something out of her control. Do you expect her to work herself day and night to complete another dress that you will likely wear only once? Be reasonable, Dagny." Though Irwaen looked gratefully at him, Dagny look fit to burst.

"I'm going to tell Father you called me a brat! He'll tan your hide for sure!"

Nelkir raised one finger in the air. "A 'spoiled' brat, Dagny. It you're going to tattle at least get the insult correct."

As his younger siblings starting squabbling amongst themselves, Frothar gave up on his breakfast and rose to leave. For the first time in almost a week, the had the morning hours to himself. No lessons. No meetings. No nothing. He could do absolutely anything he wished. Which… actually felt quite odd. Frothar found himself unable to think of anything entertaining to do. He could maybe go down to the barracks and have one of the guard captains spar with him. Or maybe… walk about Dragonsreach's uppermost parapets. It was a beautiful day to be outside. Perhaps he could convince a few guards to accompany him on a long ride in the outer plains of Whiterun hold.

Frothar sighed. That wasn't going to happen. Ever since that vampire attack a few months back, Father wouldn't let any of his children beyond the city walls. Even if they were only out in the city itself they needed an escort. It was annoying. But then… the vampires did manage to kill quite a few of the Khajiit visiting in their caravan. Killed the traders and captured a hostage. The daughter of Father's most influential thane. Lucia.

He frowned at the memory. The look on Harbinger Alessia's face when Father told her the news. Pain and fury unlike anything Frothar had ever seen before. He himself felt afraid and angry that a citizen of Whiterun had been taken. Even more so that it was Lucia. He'd wanted to join the Harbinger in the hunt, but Father had immediately forbade it. The next few hours were spent pacing and wringing his hands helplessly while Lucia's mother and her Companions gave chase. How Frothar had wished he were not who he was so that he might be who he wanted.

Lucia and he had never been anything close to friends. They'd… quarreled as young children. More like… he'd been a bully and she'd broken his nose. Twice. Or had it been three times? No. One broken nose and two black eyes. After that, Father and the Harbinger generally kept them separated unless circumstances made it impossible. Over the years they'd grown a little less… hostile towards each other. She still seemed to regard him with general dislike, if not outright mistrust.

He, on the other hand felt… different towards the daughter of arguably one the most important heroic figures in the history of Skyrim. Lucia was no longer that skinny, awkward, young girl he'd first met. A year ago Frothar would have called her looks average. Pretty, but no great beauty of song or epic poems. However of late, he'd noticed… something different. He saw beauty. Evidence of the woman she was growing into. She was still straightforward and blunt in her manner, strong willed, stubborn even, yet… Gods… If he could only sum up the courage to speak with her.

"Young Lord? Are you alright, Sir?"

The voice pulled Frothar out of his daydreaming. "Farengar? I'm sorry. Did you need something?"

"Yes, Sir. I was hoping you'd accompany me to speak with Arcadia in the market. Normally I would have her come to Dragonsreach, but the insufferable woman refused to leave her shop unattended. I might have insisted on her coming here, but… it is a nice day. The walk will be pleasant enough."

"Is there something wrong with the last shipment she sent here?" Frothar asked, wondering what else might cause such a fuss.

"Oh, no. We simply have a disagreement on a particular step in the purification of…"

Frothar practically felt his eyes glaze over. He let their court wizard go on a little while, feigning interest. As Farengar paused to take a breath, Frothar made his move. "Of course. I have an hour or so free. Lead the way."

Give him longer than an hour and I'll be in the shop all morning, Frothar thought as he followed the robed figure out of the keep. Of course two guards escorted them through the city streets. Most people got out of the way instantly either out of fear or deference. Frothar hoped it was the latter. The market was busier than usual for the time of day. But then… Frothar rarely ever visited the market district so early in the morning, if ever. All their produce was carried to the keep via their many servants. Still, the past few times he'd been in the market so early it wasn't nearly so crowded.

"I swear by all the Gods, I saw her. The Harbinger was in the company of a vampire." One man nearby was gossiping with another elderly man. The topic nearly pulled Frothar to a dead stop. Luckily there was a wagon blocking their way, so they had to stop for a moment anyway.

"That's not possible. You must be mistaken."

"No, I saw the eyes. Red as blood. And her skin was pale as moonlight."

"Assuming you're right, and I don't think you are, why would the Harbinger associate with a vampire? Didn't one of those blood suckers steal her daughter away? It's unthinkable that-"

"Sir, the way is clear." One of the guards said, motioning for Frothar to move along. He did, but thought on what he had heard.

Was it true? Was it even possible for Harbinger Alessia to do such a thing? Surely not. If there was one word he would use to describe the Harbinger, it was protective. She would never do anything that would, in any way, put her daughter in danger. As such, the man must have been mistaken. The mystery woman accompanying the Harbinger couldn't have been a vampire. Impossible.

As expected, the alchemy shop smelt strongly of herbs and other strange things. There were only a handful of customers in the shop and the owner, Arcadia, was currently talking with a young woman. Frothar stared. The young woman was actually Lucia.

"How much did you need?" Arcadia asked.

Lucia checked something on a small bit of paper in her hand. "A whole unit, if you have it. I know it costs more, but I have what my teacher gave me and some from my allowance."

"Let me see." The woman peered at the paper. "Says here you only need a half."

"I know. But I want extra in case I mess up."

Arcadia nodded. "Smart girl. That will be five pieces."

"Can you add in a fresh bottle and cork?" Lucia asked. "I'll give you two Septims extra."

"Make it three and you got yourself a deal."

"Done." The smile Lucia gave made Frothar's breath catch. "Eight Septims."

"You drive a hard bargain, girl. You have your mother's gift." The older woman chuckled. "Let me go fetch your purchase and I'll met you at the counter."

Suddenly Frothar realized that if Lucia turned to go to said counter she would be looking right at him. Too late. She turned and… recognition. To his dismay it was not a positive recognition. Not to be discouraged, Frothar straightened his spine and smiled. That seemed to take her off guard. When she got close enough that he wouldn't need to speak overly loud, Frothar greeted her warmly.

"Good morning, Lady Lucia." He said with a slight bow.

As was custom, Lucia bowed as well. Thankfully it wasn't as ridiculously low as others often did. Just a fraction lower than his bow. "Good morning, Lord Frothar."

Silence.

Scrambling for something, anything, to say, Frothar asked, "Buying herbs?"

"It is an alchemy shop." Lucia said, obviously fighting to hide the slight curve of her lips.

"Right, yes. Erm… may I?" He reached for the paper she'd been reviewing for her purchase. She allowed him a glance, but nothing more. "This is… what? Some form of powder?"

"It's…" Lucia pausing thinking. "My basics. My teacher wants me to practice some simple recipes before I try anything too…"

"Advanced?"

Lucia nodded. "Mama didn't want me doing anything dangerous on my own. Thus… the powder."

"Your mother hired you an alchemy tutor? Since when were you interested in the art?"

It was apparently the wrong thing to say. Lucia stiffened her spine. "Since my mother came home with an injury that only an alchemist could tend to. I helped her companion create a poultice to help with the healing. I showed promise and Ms. Serana agreed to teach me."

"Ms. Serana? Your mother's companion?" Frothar asked. He knew he was making her angry, but curiosity bit at him. "Is that the same woman I heard rumors of from some of the townsfolk?"

Lucia sighed and shook her head, seeming displeased. "Excuse me, Sir. I need to go."

"Frothar. You can call me Frothar." He said instantly, making her stop.

"Alright. Excuse me, Frothar. I need to go."

She pushed past him, made her purchase and stomped out of the shop. Frothar watched her go, wondering what about his question had made her so angry. Beside him, Farengar chuckled. "Ah, don't feel too badly, Sir. Poor girl likely didn't know how to act in your presence. Commons are like that sometimes. Especially the street urchins."

Without looking at the wizard, Frothar said calmly, "Don't ever call her that again, Farengar. Not ever."

"Sir?" The wizard look at him, stunned.

The glare he turned on the older man could have curdled milk. He repeated himself slowly as to not be mistaken, "Do not call her that again. Not ever. Am I understood?"

"U-Uh… yes, Sir. Yes, my Lord. Never again."

Lucia

Why was she so angry? What was it about the jarl's eldest son that drove her so… crazy? Ever since they were younger, maybe… five years ago? Ever since forever ago, they'd been squabbling. He'd throw taffy in her hair or pinch her arm or any number of other mean things every time Mama brought Lucia to the keep with her. It was an almost guaranteed thing. After the powder was done and she put Braith in her place, maybe she'd focus on Frothar next. Goodness knows he'd earned a few itchy nights.

The next few days were long ones. Lucia focused entirely on perfecting the itching powder. When Mila and Lars came over to see what she'd been up to, she told them her plan. Mila instantly fell in love with the idea. Lars… not so much.

"Don't you think this is a little… extreme?" He said. "I mean, Priestess Danica said to talk with Braith."

"No. What she said was that if words didn't work, find something that would." Lucia looked at her friend. "Tried talking it out yet?"

Mila sighed. "He lost another few Septims."

"Mila…" Lars groaned. "You said you wouldn't tell."

"I said I wouldn't tell your grandmother. Not that I wouldn't tell Lucia."

"It's the same thing."

"No it's not."

"Guys!" Lucia shouted. The pair shut up. Lucia looked at Lars. Really looked at him. "What's the real reason you won't fight Braith? Don't tell me it's because you respect her because she's a girl. That's not the only reason."

Lars looked down at his feet. She didn't think he was going to talk at first, but he did. He muttered so softly that neither one of them heard him at first. When they asked him again, he sighed and spoke up. "She likes me."

Both girls just stared at him. Mila recovered first. "Come again?"

"She has a crush on me." Lars repeated. "That's why she picks on me."

Lucia blinked. "Alright… So she broke your nose… because she likes you?"

"I know. It sounds crazy-"

"That's because it is crazy, Lars." Mila interjected. "Who told you she liked you?"

"She did. Or rather, she told her father." Both girls urged him to continue. "I went over to her house a few months back. The same day she tore my favorite shirt. I wanted to talk to her about the bullying. Ask her why she hated me so much. I was about to knock when I overheard someone talking around back. I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but… But it was Braith talking with her father. She said, 'Papa, I want to talk to you about a boy. I like him but-' Her father interrupted and told her to go talk to her mother. She did. Her mother was inside. And the same thing happened. Only, her mother told her to go find her father. They didn't want to listen to her. After that, she just went off and sat by herself. It was… really sad."

"Maybe they were busy?" Mila suggested.

Lars shook his head. "No. Neither one was doing anything important. But even if that were true, this happens a lot apparently. I asked around. A lot of people know Braith's parents ignore their daughter. To be sure, I spied a lot since then. It's like she doesn't exist sometimes."

Lucia sat quietly for a moment, remembering what Braith had shouted at her a few days ago. "Nobody wants you!" She'd said that in her anger, but something about it stood out. Perhaps… perhaps it wasn't meant for Lucia at all. Or even Lars. Maybe Braith believed it was true about herself. A sad thought. She shook herself.

"Doesn't matter. She won't listen to reason, so we have to make her listen." Lucia said, holding up the carefully corked bottle of white powder. "Once she understands that her actions will not be tolerated anymore, maybe we can get through to her. Until then…"

"Reality check." Mila grinned, then turned the look on Lars. "You can console your girlfriend after we've gotten some much needed payback."

"She's not my girlfriend." Lars said defiantly, then turned to Lucia. "Are you sure that won't hurt her?"

"Girlfriend…" Mila muttered, earning her a slug in the arms from Lars. "Hey! Respect woman!"

"I do. You're just not acting very lady-like."

Before the pair could start fighting again, Lucia cut them off. "We need a delivery system. I think I have an idea, but I'll need you guys to help."

She told them. Mila nodded her agreement. "Yeah, I'm a better shot anyway. And Lars needs to act as bait."

"I'm not doing that." Lars shook his head.

Lucia thought about it. "Yeah, it's probably better if I do it. If she really is crushing, you acting as bait to lure her out is kinda cruel."

"You're kidding right? It's the perfect poetic justice." Mila argued.

"I'm still not doing it." Lars snapped. "How would you feel if Alstir lured you on a date just so he could dump a bucket of water on your head? It's not funny playing on someone's emotions like that. Even if they deserve it."

Mila didn't say anything for a moment, then nodded in understanding. Lars hadn't retaliated not because he was weak, but because he didn't want to cause more harm to someone who was already in pain. Only problem was that he didn't know how else to help besides allowing himself to be brutalized. Kind hearted guy. Stupid, but very kind. Lucia smiled at her friend, thinking just how good a guy he truly was.

How come Frothar can't behave like that? Lucia's mind went blank. Where had that come from? Why was she thinking of Frothar like that? The guy was a jerk. A skeever turd. He and Lars were in two completely different worlds when it came to who was the better man. Lars would win, hands down.

"Alright, so we agree? I'll draw Braith's attention. Mila, you take the shot. Lars…" Lucia thought. "You… don't do anything. You see nothing. You say nothing. You know nothing. Got it?"

"Got it."

"Alright. Operation Itchy begins tomorrow at dawn."

---

The idea was simple. Lucia would get the target's attention, have the target follow her to the designated location where Mila and Lars were already waiting, move the target into position, then have Mila shoot the target with Lars' slingshot when Lucia gave the signal. The powder was carefully wrapped in a small piece of burlap tied loosely with twine. She'd tested it with dirt to see how the projectile would explode on impact. The first few trials were duds; the burlap came undone almost instantly. That was fixed when, instead of twine, they used a bit of honey to sort of glue the sides together. After it dried a bit, it held together long enough for the powder to strike the target.

Ready for Operation Itchy, Mila and Lars pulled themselves up onto one of the house roofs and got into position to wait. Lucia, deciding for her own safety to wear pants and boots instead of her usual dress, started looking for Braith. In her belt was the wooden practice sword Mama had given her a few years ago. The weapon might come in handy should the plan go awry. She found the girl sitting alone under the Gildergreen.

Braith hadn't seen her yet, so Lucia waited for a moment before going in. She looked at the girl, seeing something she'd never taken the time to even look for. Loneliness. That struck a cord in Lucia, she herself remembering the many times when her Mama was gone. That same sad expression on her own face. It was Braith's own fault she didn't have friends, but, with luck, their plan would help remedy that.

Or get me killed… Lucia thought as she stepped out of her hiding place to confront the girl.

The response was immediate. Braith growled. "What do you want, Orphan?"

"Oh, nothing." Lucia said, getting only so close. "Just wanted to come say how pungent you smell this morning."

"What?"

"You're smell. It's very strong. I would say you smell like the back end of a horse, but that would be an insult to the-"

"You're dead, Orphan!" Braith was up and after Lucia.

Maybe she should have come up with something less… murder inspiring. Lucia ran for it, suddenly very, very grateful her Aunt Aela insisted on making her run all the time. Currently… that previously annoying torture was proving to be a lifesaver. She raced through the Cloud District, thanking the Gods that there weren't very many people blocking her way with an enraged Braith howling at her heels. She gained some ground on a tricky turn in which Lucia was prepared for, but her pursuer was not. There was a loud crash as Braith smashed into a few empty wooden crates, then the sound of charging footsteps.

Lucia reached the designated spot, swallowed the lump in her throat, then turned to face the bully. To her surprise, Braith stopped a few yards away, a long stick in her hands. Probably got it from the pile of rubbish she'd run into during that tricky turn. Though she hadn't truly intended to use it, Lucia drew her wooden sword. Braith sneered at the weapon.

"Plan on fighting back this time?" Braith laughed. "Like you've ever had the guts before. Not even to protect the milk-drinker. You're soft. Like him."

"Funny, considering you like him." Lucia snapped. That hadn't been in the plan, but what the hell. Perhaps she could give Braith one last chance to back off.

The bully's surprise showed for only an instant before she shoved it away. "I don't like him. I like to punch him in the face. It's fun."

"Oh, come on Braith. That's a lie. You know it. I know it. So stop acting like you don't care. You do, and that's what's got you so angry."

Her words must have struck a cord. Braith took a step back. "Shut up, Orphan! You don't know me!"

"I know your mother and father don't pay very much attention to you. I know that makes you sad and lonely." Lucia lowered her sword and spoke softly, trying desperately to get through to the girl she'd seen under the Gildergreen. The sad, lonely girl. Not the angry, red-faced bully in front of her. "Look, I'm sorry about what I said before. You don't smell like the back end of a horse. Not even the front end."

"Like I care if you're sorry or not?" Braith growled. "I'm going to beat you up anyways."

"See, that's your problem. I apologized, ready to try and make nice with you, but you push me away. You push everyone away. Why? Do you want everyone to be as miserable as you are?"

"I said shut up!"

Braith swung the stick hard at Lucia's side. Thankfully she saw the blow coming and was able to block and shove the attack aside. Again, Lucia thanked her Aunt Aela for keeping up with her defense training while Mama was gone. Mama had started it, and worked with her as often as possible, but Aunt Aela made sure she kept at it. The next swing was an overhead strike. It was powerful, but slow. Slow enough Lucia could evade without the need to block or parry. Braith's legs were wide open, but she didn't strike. This wasn't about beating the bully up. This was about trying to tire her out so that maybe, maybe she'd listen.

"Braith, listen to me. I understand what it's like to feel alone. Like you said, my mother is gone more often than she's here."

Lucia dodged another one of Braith's clumsy strikes. "Yeah, because she doesn't want you!"

"No, because she wants to protect me. To protect everyone." Roll. Duck. Parry. "Still, even knowing that, it makes me sad when she's gone. She writes as often as she can, but that's no substitute for her being here."

The strikes were getting slower now. "Lucky you! My parents are here, but they might as well not be! I'm just a ghost to them! They don't see me! They don't talk to me! They don't want me!"

Lucia tripped on a rock, her ankle twisting painfully as she went down. At that moment, Braith saw her opening and raised her stick high over head head, hesitated an instant, then brought the stick down onto the ground inches from Lucia's head. Missing on purpose. The moment her strike hit the ground, a white ball struck the side of Braith's head and burst into a cloud of fine white powder. Most of it covered the girl's head, neck and shoulders, but a fair portion of it landed on Lucia's lower body. Thank goodness for the pants and boots.

Surprised, Braith shook herself trying to dislodge the stuff, but the sweat from the fight held onto the powder. Lucia looked over to the roof where Mila and Lars were hiding, seeing two powder covered heads peeking up over the edge of the room. Neither one of them looked happy.

"What is this stuff?" Braith asked, trying and failing to wipe some of it off her face.

Lucia said quickly, "Ah! Don't rub it in! It will only get worse!"

"What will?" The girl asked while scratching at her scalp. "And why am I so itchy?"

"It's itching powder…" Lucia winced at the glare she received.

"What? Itching powder? Get it off! Get it off!"

"Don't rub! We need to get water. Lots of water. Um… to the stream by the Gildergreen. Come on." Lucia grabbed Braith by the arm and led her back the way they'd come. Her ankle hurt, but not badly. Mila and Lars followed behind, itching at their own necks and scalps. "What happened to you two?"

"The honey hadn't tried on a few of the shots." Mila answered. "They backfired…"

The stream wasn't deep, but it would do the job. Mostly. She'd have to get the three back home and give them something to combat the itching… Did Ms. Serana leave instructions for that? Could she figure it out on her own? Not likely. But maybe there was something in her notes. Worth a look anyway.

"How did you come up with this stuff?" Braith asked, calmer than Lucia might have expected.

"I learned it from my Mama's friend. She's tutoring me."

Pause, then Braith continued. "Is that the vampire everyone is talking about? Your mother's friend?"

Lucia said nothing.

Another long pause. "I guess… this vampire must be alright then. You're mother wouldn't have let her in Whiterun if she wasn't. Or anywhere near you. She cares about you. Unlike my mother."

"Braith, your parents care about you. They're just… really bad at showing it." Lucia insisted.

The bigger girl huffed. "And how would you know that?"

"Because my Mama told me so. She's talked with them. They just don't know how to deal with your outbursts."

"Outbursts?"

"The bullying." Lucia clarified. "If you didn't behave like you do, maybe they'd try harder. I don't know. Keep trying to talk to them. Eventually they'll wise up."

Pause, then Braith sighed. "Alright, fine. I'll try."

"U-Until then, if you're ever feeling lonely, just come find one of us. I got a lot of good books we can read together, if you like." Lars said carefully, then elbowed Mila.

The girl sighed, "I guess you could help me and my mother with our stall. She'd love the extra help."

"And you and I can visit Jorrvaskr to watch the Companions train. That's always a sight to see. Especially when Mama's gone and Aunt Aela's in charge." Lucia added with a smile. "Or whatever else you like."

After the offers, the old Braith reared her head again. The girl snarled, "You're all just being nice to me because you pity me."

"No, that's not it at all, Braith. Or… not all of it." Lars said. "We'd rather have you as a friend than an enemy. My nose can't take much more of you as an enemy."

"Nor can your coin purse." Mila muffled a slight chuckle.

Lars ignored her. "Come on, Braith. Give us a chance. I promise you won't regret it."

"Fine. It's not like I have any other option, is it? Not with little miss 'gets everything she wants' alchemist over here." Braith said sharply, but Lucia noticed the happy smile on her face that she was trying to hide. "Are we there yet? This stuff is really strong."

The four turned heads as they came into the courtyard of the Gildergreen. Each of them practically plopped into the stream and washed themselves the best they could. Braith just sat down in the water, which came up to her belly, and let the current do most of the work. Mila and Lars followed suite. Lucia did her best to get the powder off her lower body. Her legs were itching slightly, but not nearly as bad as the others. The task done, each of them sloshed after Lucia as she led them to her house.

Lydia stared wide eyed and speechless as the four tromped through the living area and downstairs. To Lucia's surprise, Braith waved a greeting. "Good morning, Housecarl Lydia."

"Uh… Good morning." Lydia said, then called down to Lucia, who was already down at the bottom of the stairs. "So, we are having guests for lunch?"

---

The four sat around the table eating a lunch of bread, cheese, and strips of summer sausage. There were a few red spots on each of their necks and cheeks from the powder, but Lucia had managed a slightly effective antidote for the itching. It left their skin a sort of greenish tint, but it worked. Mostly. One or two spots on Lars weren't clearing up very fast. But he claimed it wasn't too much of a bother.

Their clothes were drying near the hearth while Lydia was out fetching fresh clothes for them to wear home. The drying sets would need to be washed thoroughly to get out any remaining powder. Lucia, of course, had a fresh set already and Mila was close enough to her size to borrow something to wear until Lydia's return. Lars and Braith however were nowhere near the size of the smaller girls. Thankfully, Lydia had a few spare pairs of breeches and shirts for the two to wear. Neither one matched the housecarl's bulk in muscle, so both hardly filled out their borrowed garments.

Out of the blue, Braith asked, "Do you think we can use the powder on that annoying Talos crier?"

"The one by the stairs to the keep?" Mila asked.

The bigger girl nodded. "Yeah. We could hide behind the shrine and hit him with the pellet and take off again."

Lucia grinned. "I've always wanted to shut that guy up."

"We'll need to improve on the pellet design. I don't want to try shooting it again unless I know this," Lars motioned to his red spots, "won't happen again."

"Mikael." Mila added. "I want to get Mikael."

"The bard?" Braith asked.

Mila nodded. "He keeps trying to 'conquer', his word not mine, my mother. The Harbinger warned him away repeatedly, beat him soundly once, but he won't get the message."

"What does that even mean exactly? 'Conquer'?" Lars asked.

Braith made a disgusted sound. "It means he wants to 'conquer' a woman romantically. He's tried that on my mother. Once. It didn't end well for him."

Lucia nodded. "Alright. Annoying Crier, Hard-Headed Lecher… I think we can manage those. Anyone else we need to put on the hit list? Lars?"

Lars thought about it. "That guard who stole my sweetroll a few weeks ago. What was his name?"

Frothar

Frothar sighed and shook his head. "Father, why do you allow her to behave like that? Dagny treats the servants like slaves. It isn't right."

His father, Jarl Balgruuf the Greater, sat in his chair and tugged at his beard. As expected, the father had called his son into his personal chambers to speak about the "insult" he'd dealt his younger sibling. Of course, there had been no tanning of any hide, as Dagny no doubt had hoped. But there was a solid rebuke for Frothar's behavior, as well as a demand for an apology. To the jarl's surprise, that had been refused.

"Dagny is still young. You were young once. Strong willed." Father eyed him. "Still are, apparently."

"I'm sorry, Father. I will not apologize. Dagny is the one who needs to apologize. Not to me, and not to you, but to Irwaen."

"Aye, and she will. But you will apologize to your sister for your words."

Frothar shook his head again. "I will not, Sir."

"You test my patience, my son." Balgruuf growled. "Near a man grown and you behave in such a way?"

Perhaps if you took a firmer hand with your daughter, I would not have to. Frothar dared not say the words aloud. They would surely earn him a sound beating. True as the thought was, the punishment would be well earned.

When the silence stretched on, and Frothar said nothing, his father sighed and slumped in his seat. "Son, I have enough to deal with already with these ongoing vampire attacks. I do not need to return home to find my own household warring with itself. Perhaps someday when you are a husband and a father, you will understand the importance of peace amongst your wife and children."

"I am sorry, Father. I am only doing what I believe to be right." Frothar bowed slightly, truly regretting the pain he was causing his father. The man was stressed enough already to be dealing with a sibling squabble. Another long silence. "If there is nothing more, Father, may I be excused?"

"No. There is something else you and I must discuss. Father to son. Man to man." Balgruuf motioned to a chair just opposite him. Frothar grew tense. In the past when he would do something that needed punishment, he stood for his father's judgment and sentencing. Never sat. To sit was to go beyond simple unpleasantness and straight to outright terror. But, he obeyed and sat across from his father. "Now, as I said before, you are near a man grown. You will be eighteen this winter. It is time for you to begin selecting your future partner in life. I have invited numerous noble families to stay with us this winter during your coming of age ceremony. Those families have agreed to bring their daughters with them to Dragonsreach. All of them are of your age and status. Of them, you are to select a wife. Come this time next year, you and the lady you have chosen will be married."

Frothar's entire body broke out into a cold sweat. He wrung his hands unconsciously as he asked, "So soon? Can we not wait a year? Two?"

Seeming a little surprised, Balgruuf said, "I thought you would be pleased. The suitors are kindly young ladies. Most pretty enough. Good matches for you, my son. One of them is sure to make an excellent wife and bear you many children. And the lady's family will provide needed support to Whiterun and it's people. A positive union will make our land and people grow and prosper."

"And…" Frothar dared to continue, "if I don't like any of them? Must I choose now?"

"Son, I am growing older. As my heir, it is your duty to marry and continue our bloodline. These ladies will provide healthy, strong sons and daughters to carry on our family name." Apparently still seeing his son's hesitation, Balgruuf continued. "This is important, Frothar. With a possible war on the horizon, there is no guarantee an old man like myself will live on much longer. If I were to fall, you will take my place. As such, you must have an heir of your own. Sons to make our people and our lands safe."

Though he hated and feared his upcoming birthday, Frothar nodded. "Yes, Father. I understand."

"That is good, my son. No go on. You have studies to tend to." Balgruuf nodded towards the door. Then he added, almost as an afterthought. "And for the love of Talos, try to get along with your sister."

Frothar nodded once, then left the chamber. He thought he might seek out Dagny and at least try to make amends. He still believed he owed no apology, but perhaps the attempt would ease his father's mind. As he said, there was enough to worry about already. But war? War? Were the vampire skirmishes truly that bad? Bad enough to suspect a full on war? Surly not… Hopefully not.

Mood sour, Frothar didn't seek out his sister. At best it would start another argument. So instead he went to his chambers and focused on his studies. Mathematics… His least favorite subject. While working on a conversion of units, his mind went back to the Cauldron a few days past. Lucia speaking with Arcadia on how much of… whatever she was looking for, she needed. Her hair was longer. Last he'd seen her it was only to her shoulders. Was she growing it out? Most girls did that for when winter came. But it was a bit too early for- Frothar frowned.

"You will be eighteen this winter. You are to select a wife." His father had said. "Come this time next year, you and the lady you have chosen will be married."

Frothar banged his head against the desk. It hurt, but it also helped to drive the thoughts and fear from his mind. Albeit temporarily. Without warning, his door opened and small footsteps came towards him. Dagny appeared, arms crossed and a smug look on her face. Neither of them said anything for a few heartbeats.

"Well?" The girl said. "I'm waiting."

"For?" Frothar knew, but decided to play dumb.

"Your apology. I hope Father throttled you good." The little hell-spawn giggled. "How are you even able to sit?"

"Father didn't 'throttle' me." Frothar said dismissively as he pretended to go back to his math. "And I'm not apologizing for telling the truth."

"You have to! Father said you had to!"

"He did, yes. But I said no." Frothar paused in his writing and glared up at her. "As I said, I will not apologize for telling the truth. You were behaving like a spoiled brat. You disrespected and berated poor Irwaen, despite how hard the woman is working to make your new dress. You shame yourself and our family and I will not tolerate it anymore."

Now red with anger, Dagny stomped her small foot. "Say you're sorry right now! Do it or I'm going to tell Father!"

Frothar made a shooing motion. "Go ahead. Be my guest. I still won't say it."

And… There goes the screaming. The stomping. The throwing herself on the floor and kicking. Frothar ignored his sister, trying to work out a conversion in his head to drown out the noise. A few servants came running at the commotion, but Frothar sent them away. He let the tantrum go on for nearly twenty minutes before he stood, straightened his papers, pushed in his chair, and left the room. He even stepped over his flailing sister on his way out the door. The guards in the hall cringed at each and every shriek, but he nodded to them each in turn. They nodded back and stood a little straighter after.

Frothar paused at the last guard, noticing the man's slightly reddened throat underneath his collar. As he watched, the guard itched the rash with a slight groan. "Are you alright?"

"Fine, my Lord. Just a little…" Scratch. Scratch. "Itchy."

"What happened?"

"I was attacked, my Lord. Little heathens from the lower districts struck me with some fine white powder pellets from a slingshot." Scratch. Scratch. "Been like this ever sense."

Frothar narrowed his eyes in thought. Powder? Little heathens? He shook his head with a big grin on his face, then motioned down the hall, "Go get that looked at. I'll send someone to relieve you."

"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir." The guard gratefully clanked off, still scratching at himself under the helm.

Chuckling, Frothar said to no one in particular, "Looks like Whiterun's newest alchemist is testing her new wares."

An idea came to Frothar and his big grin grew even wider. Perhaps there was a way to get justice for poor Irwaen's mistreatment as well as teach Dagny a bit of humility. And if none of that sufficed, it would at least be immensely satisfying.

Lucia

Lucia blinked at the message from Dragonsreach. Lydia stood over her shoulder, her large bulk casting a shadow on the page. Her frown could practically be felt. "Our young Lord is inviting you to the keep?"

"I guess he is." Lucia shook her head to clear it. "But why? Besides the other day at Arcadia's, he and I haven't talked in almost a year. Now he wants to see me?"

Another felt frown. "Without my Thane here to accept or refuse the request, it falls to me as your guardian to do so. Shall I deny the request?"

Surprised, Lucia turned to look at the mountain of a woman. "You're giving me a choice?"

"At nearly sixteen, you are old enough to make your own choices. Go or don't go."

"You're willing to let me go? To see a boy?" Lucia chuckled. "Who are you and what have you done with my protector?"

The housecarl ruffled her hair. "Young men Frothar's age sometimes get… ideas in regards to young women. That said, I do believe his intentions are honorable, if not innocent. Still, I will not allow you to be alone with him. I will distance myself to give you privacy, if you wish, but you will not be out of my sight. If not for the sake of his reputation, than most certainly yours."

Lucia huffed, somewhat saddened by her words. "Like he would be interested in me."

"Fret not, Little One. It is the way of the higher born." Lydia scanned over the letter once more. "It says this afternoon. Shall we go? If for no other reason than out of pure curiosity?"

"Hmm… It will be my first time to go to Dragonsreach without Mama." Lucia thought about the offer, deciding that the mystery was too interesting to ignore. "I guess we can go. It would be disrespectful to refuse outright."

The pair ate a short lunch then prepared to go. While Lydia would garb herself in plate armor and matching helm, Lucia stood back from her chest of drawers and debated on what to wear. Of her dresses, the best was one she'd received recently. The silver one Mama had brought back from Riften. But… did she want to wear her best dress for an audience with the jarl's son? A private meeting no less? What would that say? Did she care about what anyone would think? What would Frothar think? What did she think?

Lucia hesitated, unsure how she wanted to present herself. The common girl trying to impress a jarl's heir? Or a humble common who knew very well she wasn't good enough for a lord simply wearing a nice dress her mother had brought her? Or… that she cared little and wore rags for a private audience with a young lord? Gods… why was she even thinking about impressing Frothar? Shaking her head at her own stupidity, Lucia grabbed her second… arguably her third best dress. It was dark green with a gold sash. She pulled her hair back with a matching ribbon and tried mimicking her mother's imposing stare in the mirror. Lucia just looked uncomfortable.

How does Mama do it? Lucia thought, adjusting her collar.

"Come, Lucia." Lydia called.

When Lucia met her at the door, the housecarl raised an eyebrow at her appearance. She shrugged. "He is the jarl's son."

"Mmm-hmm."

The walk to the keep was an odd one. Lucia kept thinking everyone was staring at her. How often did she dress up and march through the city streets with a literal knight in shining armor in the lead? She caught sight of Mila and her mother in the market. Her friend ran over and walked with the pair a ways.

"What's with the getup?" Mila asked.

Lucia kept her back straight, but tried to speak in a whisper. "I've been asked to the keep."

Her friend went pale. "Are you in trouble? Is it about the powder?"

"I don't know."

"Well, who's asking?"

"Frothar."

"Froth-" Lucia leapt to cover Mila's mouth, giving her a look. Her friend calmed visibly, but her tone still held it's surprise. "Why would Frothar be asking you to the keep? What's he want?"

"You're guess is as good as mine. Now get going. You're making a scene."

Mila looked at Lydia in her full suite of armor, then at Lucia's apparel. "Yeah, I'm making a scene… Are you trying to impress him or something?"

"What?"

"You dressed up!" Mila hissed. "You even got a ribbon in your hair!"

"So?" Lucia snapped. "It's isn't my best dress."

"Could have fooled me."

Sudden panic and embarrassment made Lucia's voice break. "Shut up!"

"Lucia, is something wrong?" Lydia turned her helmed head to look at the pair. Mila practically yelped and scampered back into the crowd. Lucia gave her guardian a grateful look, which she nodded to. "Keep up. We're almost there."

Dragonsreach was just as grand as ever. Lucia tried not to let the sight cow her. Nor did she want Mila's comments to do the same. Despite her nervousness, she followed the housecarl up the many steps and into the main hall. From there, Lydia spoke with a nearby guard who wished to see the letter. Lucia provided it, then stood patiently and meekly beside her guardian. The guard scanned the paper, not seeming to actually read it, then nodded to his comrade.

"If you would follow me, please. I will take you to our young Lord." The guard bowed then stomped off.

Lucia had been in the castle enough to have an idea of where they were going. The castle had many quiet and peaceful places, many that were known to only a few. But judging by what direction they were going, Lucia guessed they were heading to Dragonsreach's only garden. It was a surprisingly sizable garden for it's location, surrounded on all sides by the high walls of the surrounding castle. The flowers were still in bloom despite the day's heat. Thankfully, large trees provided the much needed shade.

Upon entering the garden, Lydia removed her helmet and paused by the entrance. Lucia noticed Frothar waiting patiently down the walking path. He hadn't seemed to notice her yet. The housecarl nodded to her charge, "I will follow at a distance."

"Thanks." Lucia smiled at her, still a little nervous for some reason.

Lydia seemed to notice. "Pay no heed to your friend's comments. Keep in mind that you are your mother's daughter. Behave as such, and you will be fine."

Once that sunk in, Lucia smiled up at the taller woman. "Thanks. That makes me feel better."

"And also know that should he behave in anyway untoward," The housecarl grinned, "I will gladly break his neck."

The nearby guards flinched at the words, but otherwise didn't react. Lucia chuckled, as if the comment was said in jest. She knew for certain that the housecarl was not joking. Should Frothar misbehave, she would carry out her threat no matter the cost. Even if it meant her death. Lucia gulped and slowly made her way down the path towards the waiting young man.

He noticed her a few moment's later, instantly standing to greet her. Though she'd seen him only a few days ago, Lucia hadn't recalled how he'd looked in Arcadia's Cauldron. Now he was dressed in fine clothes of high quality. Pants and boots with a green and gold doublet. His hair was swept back away from his face, curling a little at his temples. Deep brown, like her own. Taller than she, he looked down at her with dark pools of chocolaty brown. She'd never noticed the dimples at the corners of his mouth when he smile. Which he was doing. Widely.

"Thank you for coming, Lady Lucia." He said and bowed.

Remembering her manners, Lucia curtsied. "Of course. Thanks for the invitation, Lord F-"

"Just Frothar. No need to be so formal." He chuckled. "We know each other well, after all."

"If you can call putting taffy in my hair, 'well', but alright. So long as you drop the 'Lady'." She added curtly. "Lucia is fine."

Frothar winced at the jab, but quickly moved on. "Good. Shall we walk while we talk? I… have a proposition I would like you to consider."

Nodding her accent, Lucia made to do as he asked. She was surprised when he offered his arm for her to take. Hesitant, she looked at him curiously. Frothar didn't seem to take offense. Just waited patiently for her to make up her mind whether or not she'd accept it. She did after a long pause, and they walked. They proceeded at a slow pace, weaving in and out of the flowerbeds. Lucia listened to the clanking footsteps a handful of paces back, signaling Lydia on guard. The housecarl kept to her word, keeping far enough back to give the pair their privacy, but not so far as to lose sight of them. It helped Lucia relax.

"So, I've heard around the castle that a certain vigilante was running loose throughout the city." Frothar began. "Rumors say this… individual wields 'alchemical justice'. A powder that causes one to itch feverishly for hours after they are attacked."

"O-Oh?" Lucia tried not to sound guilty as she asked, "Has anyone been seriously injured?"

Chuckling, Frothar looked at her. "No. Nothing serious. But I am curious who this vigilante might be. Someone with experience in the art, surely. One… clever enough to remain unseen. Or to mostly stay unseen. One of my guards caught sight of four youths fleeing from his own attack. About our age. Younger maybe. But I suspect not too much younger than myself. Your age, likely."

Lucia stopped with a sigh. "What do you want?"

Still grinning, the slightly older boy stopped too. "It's you and your friends, am I right?"

"Yes. Fine. You caught me." She groaned, trying and failing to pull her arm free. "Now, what do you want? Why ask me here? Are you going to get me into trouble with your father?"

"No. That's not what I want at all. Actually, I want to hire you."

That made Lucia pause. "Hire me?"

"Yes. You and your powder." Frothar motion forward, asking if she would continue walking. Curiosity again piqued, she did. After a few steps, he continued. "You remember my younger sister, Dagny, yes?"

Lucia groaned in answer.

"I thought so." Frothar shook his head. "She's the reason I asked you here. I want you to use your itching powder on her. Or, allow me a small amount and I will use it."

Suddenly Lucia felt a bit unhappy. Relieved that the request for her company was actually business, but also… disappointed. Though she hadn't wanted to admit it, she'd hoped Frothar had asked for her simple because he wanted to see her. Stupid… Why should that bother her? She hadn't wanted his attention, had she?

Pulling herself back into the conversation, Lucia asked, "What's the problem with Dagny?"

"Dagny hasn't changed much since the last time your mother brought you to the keep. She's still as spoiled and self centered as ever. Father doesn't seem to be all too interested in tempering her behavior, so that unfortunate task falls to me." Frothar, to her surprise, placed a hand over her own and looked at her pleadingly. "I have an idea of what to do, but I need your powder. I'm willing to pay. Coin, or a boon of your choice. Whatever you like."

"But… why come to me? Itching powder isn't hard to come by. I'm sure you could just buy some from Arcadia, or have your court wizard make you some."

"If I were to do that, everyone would know. Being the son of the jarl has it's downfalls as well as its benefits. This way, it remains anonymous. That and…" To Lucia's further surprise, Frothar blushed. "And I have an excuse to ask a beautiful young lady to walk the gardens with me. Any young man's honor, to be sure."

Lucia's heart thudded so loudly she was sure Frothar could hear. Blushing herself, she kept her eyes downward. "Oh."

They walked for a time in silence. Lucia tried desperately to calm her racing heart. What was he up to, making a comment like that? She was willing to help regardless, so why the flattery? She stole a quick glance at Frothar. His face was still red, eyes looking anywhere else but at her. It made Lucia's heart race again. Did he really mean what he said?

"So, how about it? Do we have a deal?" Frothar asked, at last looking at her.

They spent some time working out the details of how the job would be done. Apparently, Dagny was throwing a fit about the delay of her latest dress. The seamstress was working herself to the bone to get it done, all the while being shouted at and insulted for not working fast or hard enough. The idea was to put the powder in the new dress itself once it was completed. That way, when Dagny put it on for the first time, things would get itchy really quickly. The problem was getting the powder into the dress without anyone seeing them.

"The dress is nearly done so it will have to be soon. I could invite you back to Dragonsreach again tomorrow morning. Perhaps for breakfast. You can give me the powder then. My father will be in another meeting. I can slip out of the main hall and make a break for Dagny's room. It should be easy enough to get in and out without anyone seeing me." Frothar suggested.

"Us. Without anyone seeing us."

"Us?" Frothar repeated.

"You weren't the only one to put taffy in my hair. I want to be there when she puts on the dress. That's my price." Lucia said. "Besides, you'll need a lookout. Deal?"

Frothar thought about it for a few paces before responding. "As you wish."

---

"He what?" Mila asked in disbelief and a bit more volume than Lucia would have liked.

Lucia had done away with her good dress in favor of a plain one more appropriate for running about. Same with the golden ribbon, replaced with a tattered brown strip of cloth she didn't mind getting a little dirty during whatever mischief she and her friends were getting into. The four youths sat under the large tree out back behind Breezehome. It was a nice and quiet place to talk, but not so private that Lydia would find it necessary to stand guard nearby. The housecarl was in the house preparing their supper for the evening. Every once in awhile she'd peek out the back window to check on them.

Mila had arrived first, instantly posing question after question about Lucia's afternoon at the keep. Nothing had been explained until Lars and Braith had joined them. The past weeks had been… interesting ones. The once bully at first only joined them on missions, helping seclude a target then help in the escape. After they'd successfully powdered the Talos Crier, Braith seemed eager for more. She'd even suggested her parents as targets, though Lars had talked her out of it. After that, she included herself more and more in their daily lives.

When Braith had entered the garden behind Breezehome, she'd selected to sit a fair distance apart from Mila and Lucia. Enough that made her part of the gathering, and yet, not so. Lars, much to his friends' surprise, chose to sit beside his once enemy. It was equally between Lucia and Braith, thus making her part of the group. Lucia had asked him once while Mila and Braith weren't around if he was alright with his once tormentor being part of their gang. Again to her surprise, he was. She and he had spoken of the past, and agreed to try to start over. It wasn't easy, Braith often reverted back to her former self, but Lars stood his ground each and every time. And each and every time Braith stormed off in a rage, she returned and apologized.

"That's a big fish." Lars shook his head. "Are you sure you want to target the jarl's kids? Getting caught would mean big trouble for you."

"It's her powder. She made it. She can do what she wants with it." Braith said. "Besides, if she gets into trouble, her mother can get her out again. Must be nice to be so 'privileged'."

Lucia ignored the jab, knowing it was a knee-jerk reaction for Braith to lash out when she was nervous about something. Before she could reply, Mila stepped it. "Don't be such a milk drinker, Lars. It's not like she's going to try and assassinate Dagny. It's just a harmless prank. What's the worst that could happen?"

"And it wasn't my idea." Lucia added. "If anything, Frothar would take most of the blame. At worst, I'd just be his accomplice."

Lars sighed. "Even so, it's still the jarl's daughter. No matter how innocent, it's still an attack against the jarl's daughter."

"All I have to say is I better not get tossed in a jail cell for this." Braith warned. "You get caught, it's your head. Well, your's and your boyfriend's."

Lucia bristled. "He is not my boyfriend."

"Uh-huh…" Mila grinned. "So… he didn't ask you for a private audience in which you walked arm in arm in the castle gardens?"

Braith said with mirth, "As I said, boyfriend."

"You two should have seen what she was wearing. I swear I've never seen anyone so dolled up…"

Mila started detailing the dress Lucia had worn to the keep. Lucia sighed and scowled, trying desperately to hide her blush. Thankfully, she hadn't gone into more detail about the meeting with Frothar. Especially how their little stroll ended. They'd walked in a full circle around the garden, about half an hour of slow walking in starts and stops, before parting. But before Lucia left, Frothar had bowed low, keeping hold of one of her wrists. As he came up, he placed a single light kiss on her knuckles. It had surprised her so much she'd forgotten her own curtsy for a few seconds.

He'd never done that before, Lucia had thought on her way back through Dragonsreach. Lydia lead her quickly, the housecarl somehow sensing her charge's sudden anxiety and shock. Anxiety at what Frothar had done, and her own shock at how much she'd liked it.

That night after supper she'd gone downstairs to make sure everything was ready for the job tomorrow morning. The itching powder was set, though she hadn't wrapped it in the burlap since they didn't need to shoot it at anything. Thus, she needn't insure the honey was dry. A little nervous, Lucia focused on a few more practice exercises Ms. Serana had given her.

Mama's recent letter instructed her not to use the itching powder on other children in Whiterun. She hadn't, aside from Braith. They'd all been adults. Thus far, she'd obeyed her mother's warnings to the letter, if not in spirit. Even the prank on Dagny technically wouldn't be her doing. She was only playing lookout. Again, to the letter. Still, there would be a reckoning when Mama returned. Very few had caught sight of her during the attacks, but not being seen wouldn't fool Mama for a second. She'd know. Oh, well… After Dagny, Lucia decided she'd put away the powder for a while. At least until it wasn't in the forefront of everyone's mind. Especially Mama's.

---

Suddenly, Lucia didn't care how much trouble she got into. Didn't care if Mama grounded her for a whole month. Two even. Frothar sitting across from her at the table winced at the loud shriek from the other end of the table. Dagny was at it again, eager and unwilling to wait for the new dress she was promised. The seamstress promised it was finished. She swore up and down. Despite Irwaen's assurances, the did nothing to stop the tirade.

"I said I wanted the dress this morning. Before breakfast. And you're just finishing it now? Lazy old crone." Dagny scowled down at her uneaten breakfast.

The seamstress nodded profusely. "Miss, I promise. Your new dress is already in your room."

"Finally. I should have you whipped for your carelessness. This better not happen again, or else!"

Lucia bristled at the threat, nearly rising from her chair to throttle the spoiled brat right then and there. She'd seen the scars on her mother's back. Knew some of the horror she'd endured in the past. A whipping was not an idle threat to be tossed around lightly. Not around Lucia. And certainly not to anyone who didn't deserve it.

Apparently seeing the guest's ire rising, Frothar rose his voice over his still shrilling sibling. "Dagny, we have a guest. Show some decorum. Stop harassing Irwaen. Now."

Grateful, the older woman took the opportunity to escape. Dagny turned her sneer on her brother. "As if I care you invited a common peasant to our table. Did you find her begging for loose coins in the market or something?"

Frothar growled. "Curb your tongue, Dagny. Lucia is a guest. You will show her proper hospitality or, so help me..."

The younger girl rolled her eyes and picked at her food. Silently, thank goodness.

Satisfied that he'd stopped the current disaster, Frothar too returned to his meal. After a long, uncomfortable silence he asked, "So how is the Harbinger? Last my father said, he'd received a letter from her detailing what they'd found in Dragon Bridge. He wouldn't give me details, but I imagine your mother would have written to you as well."

Glad for a change in topic, Lucia nodded. "Mama didn't give me any details either, but she did say she and Ms. Serana were well. At least, the were before they went off to only the Gods know where. She would only say that they had a lead north. And that I was to stay out of trouble, do my schooling, practice my sword fighting, and so on. You know, the normal 'mothering' thing."

Frothar chuckled. "It's been a while, but, yes. I remember. My mother used to say the same things. 'Do you schoolwork. Fix your hair. Stop pestering your father.' Never got the sword fighting comment though. At least not from Mother. That always my father."

Lucia felt a little guilty. "I'm sorry. I forgot."

"That's alright. It's good to remember sometimes." Though he hid it well, the pain was still in his eyes. "If you will forgive my curiosity, who exactly is this… 'Serana' you mentioned? I've heard rumors, but-"

"It's a vampire." Dagny cut in. "I heard some of the servants gossiping about it. Probably got its fangs in the Harbinger. That's how it got into the city so easily. I bet-"

"She. Ms. Serana is a she." Lucia snapped, just as her mother had done to Aunt Aela. "And she is a good person. She and my Mama are friends."

The horrible little brat huffed and grinned. "Not what I heard. I heard your Mama's inflatuated-"

"Infatuated." Lucia corrected. "The word is infatuated, stupid."

The girl turned bright red and rose from her chair. "Oh yeah? Well, your Mama is a whor-"

"Dagny!" Frothar stood from his hair so quickly the chair flipped backwards. He needn't have. Lucia picked up her mug, sadly empty, and chunked it at Dagny's head. The girl yelped and ducked. The mug went sailing past her and clattered on the floor. Before it hit the ground, Dagny was up and sprinting as fast as her short legs could carry her. Lucia was tempted to give chase, but Frothar stopped her. "Now's our chance. Let's go."

Having forgot the reason she was here in all the excitement, Lucia hesitated before following Frothar up the stairs towards the private quarters. Frothar led the way, halting at corners to check if the way was clear for her. A few guards lined the halls, but not many. They had to stop once for Frothar to order the guard to leave. She didn't quite hear the reasoning but the guard hurried away to investigate, leaving the way open to Dagny's room.

"He'll be gone for a little while, but we'd best hurry." Frothar said as they both went inside.

Lucia hung by the door, keeping watch through the small crack. Frothar went to the bed where the new dress was carefully laid out. It was a beautiful garment. Red and gold with carefully, painstakingly sewn on beads that made the dress sparkle. Too bad it was going to someone who'd toss it out only after a single use. Frothar pulled back the collar and liberally dusted the inside with the powder.

"Not so much. She'll see it." Lucia warned. Frothar picked up the dress with two delicate fingers and shook it gently, allowing the dust to fall from the inner collar down throughout the entire length of the fabric. That done, Lucia returned to her watch. Someone was coming. Two someones. The footsteps were growing louder. She looked to Frothar and said in a low hiss, "Hide!"

"Here." Frothar motioned to the wardrobe. He shoved her inside before hopping in himself and pulling the door closed.

The closet was a tight fit. Frothar had to squat down, his head on level with Lucia's smaller stature. She was pressed tightly against his chest, drying desperately not to move. Not only would that make noise and possibly give them away, being so close to him was…

"The dress is here Miss. Just as I promised." The seamstress' familiar voice came from just beyond the wardrobe. Frothar pressed one finger to his lips, urging silence. Lucia nodded once then tried seeing through the small crack in the door. Some light was coming through, but it wasn't a lot to see through.

"This is beautiful. Help me into it. I want to show it off to that orphan peasant downstairs." Dagny scoffed loudly. "How dare she throw something at me! Just who does she think she is? I'll show her."

"Miss, you shouldn't say such things about our young guest." Irwaen said cautiously. "The young lady is the daughter of our jarl's sworn vassal. Our Lord, your father, favors Lady Lucia. As does your elder brother."

"Shut up, servant." Dagny hissed. "That mooning calf should stick to farming, like the other common rabble in this Gods awful Hold, and leave the affairs of the nobility to her betters. As should her harlot of a mother. As you should."

Lucia felt her teeth grinding. It took everything she had not to hop out of the wardrobe and throttle the spoiled little… shit! Had Frothar not tightened his grip on her hands, she might have. Wait… She focused on her own self. Yes. Frothar was indeed holding her hands in his own. She'd been so caught up in Dagny's insults, she forgotten how closely pressed together they were.

Don't look. Just don't look up at- She did. Frothar's face was only a few inches away from hers. He was looked down at her, his pupils so large they nearly overtook the chocolaty brown of his eyes. The lack of light cast his facial features into sharp contrast. Detailing each and every line and dip in his very, very handsome face. It would be so easy to close the distance between them. So easy. Frothar apparently had the same thought. His dark eyes flicked down to her lips and back up again. Was that a question? Was he asking permission?

"What is this?" Dagny said, a hint of sudden tension in her tone. "Ugh… Why does this itch so much?"

"Miss, are you alright?" Irwaen asked.

"Something's wrong. What did you do?" The tension turned to panic. The pure fear in the voice pulled Lucia and Frothar's attention back to their prank. From what little they could see, Dagny was hopping up and down in an attempt to get the red dress off again. "Ow, ow, ow! It burns! What did you do? Get it off! Get it off!"

What in the world? Lucia tried to remember if she'd done something different with that batch of itching powder. She couldn't think of anything she'd done incorrectly. Quite the opposite. She remembered exactly how focused she was on her task. The job had been an important one, after all. She had wanted everything to go smoothly. The batch was probably the best she'd made thus far.

The dress off, Dagny was still scratching at small red welts on her arms and neck. Seeing this, the seamstress hurried her out of the room. "To the healers, Miss. Perhaps they will know what to do."

After there was silence for a few minutes, Frothar pushed open the wardrobe and helped Lucia out. They both stared at the discarded dress numbly. Finally Frothar asked, "Was that… normal?"

"Um… Yes and no." Lucia admitted. "Yes that they start itching pretty quickly. Yes, sometimes they get small red patches. But… no, it's never looked quite like that."

A pause, then Frothar motioned to the door. "We had best leave. The guards would have followed after Dagny. And… I want to go check on her. Make sure she is alright."

Lucia nodded, feeling somewhat dejected.

Before she'd taken a step, Frothar caught her arm. "May I call on you again?"

Surprised, she instantly asked, "What?"

"May I call on you?" He repeated. "I… would very much like to see you again. Despite how this plays out, I would like to see you again in a… formal capacity. Often, if that does not offend."

Formal capacity? Lucia repeated the words in her mind. Before she could respond, there was an echo of voices from the now open doorway. They bolted for the hallway and dashed away from their oncoming discovery. Her mind reeled from his words. A formal capacity? Did that mean…

"Young Lord." Someone called from down the hall in front of them. It was Irileth, Jarl Balgruuf's personal housecarl. The dark elf eyed the two speculatively, no doubt wondering why the two were together alone in one of the keeps personal passageways. Lucia tried not to blush, though it was difficult considering what Frothar had just asked her. Irileth eyed her for a moment, then turned her attention back to the young man. "The jarl has asked for you. Your sister has taken very ill. Lady Lucia, once we have returned to the great hall, you are to take your leave. I have already sent for your housecarl. She will escort you home."

Lucia nodded with a obedient, "Yes, Ma'am."

The housecarl nodded. "Come with me. Quickly now."

---

Lucia didn't hear from Dragonsreach for the rest of the day and the whole night. She was worried about Dagny, no matter how horrible the girl was. Something had gone seriously wrong with the powder. She was confident she'd followed the recipe exactly how Ms. Serana had written it. The rest of that day was spent combing through all her notes and lesson plans for something, anything to explain why Dagny had had such a sever reaction to the powder. Nothing.

Sleep was impossible, though she tried. Breakfast was likewise impossible. Every morsel of her usual favorite meal tasted like ash in her mouth. Come noon, there was a loud banging at the door. Lucia about jumped out of her skin with surprise. Lydia hadn't the time to even rise from her seat before Aunt Aela came barging in. The red headed woman looked furious.

"Lucia…" The werewolf growled.

The housecarl, likely still wary from their last encounter with the female, placed herself between the wolf and Lucia. In an equally growly voice, she asked, "What is the meaning of this, Companion?"

"I have orders," Aunt Aela spat the word as if it tasted like bile, "to take the girl to the keep. Jarl Balgruuf wants to speak with her and his son."

Lucia visibly stiffened. Her guardian tensed. "Orders? You? I am her keeper. If anyone should have received such an order, it should be I."

"I agree." Aunt Aela said through clenched teeth. "But, seeing as how the nature of this summons is likely due to the attack on the jarl's daughter, I'm the one called to take her mother's place."

Lydia stilled for a heartbeat, glancing back at Lucia with no small amount of surprise. Her jaw set, she turned back to Aunt Aela. "If the girl is accused of something, all the more reason it should be I who stands in my Thane's place. I am the girl's guardian in the Harbinger's absence."

Aunt Aela huffed. "Again, I agree. Still, the jarl called for me to stand for Alessia. Whatever the reason, he commands it."

"Understood." Lydia growled, obviously disliking everything about the command. She turned to Lucia. "Go ready yourself quickly. I needn't explain the seriousness of the situation. We'd best not keep the jarl waiting."

Lucia nodded once then hastily rushed to her room. The nightgown came off and a clean dress went on. Her hair was quickly, but neatly, pulled into a tail at the nape of her neck and tied with the first ribbon she could find. Shoes, then back out into the living area. The two women were waiting, Aunt Aela with her usual scowl and Lydia with a resigned, yet determined, look on her face. Despite the jarl's instructions that the Companion was to bring Lucia to the keep, the housecarl defiantly marched alongside her charge.

Aunt Aela led the way at a swift pace, forcing Lucia to take far more steps with her shorter legs just to keep up. By the time they reached the stairs to Dragonsreach, she was already sweating. She hoped the housecarl would continue to follow them, but hope was all it was. Lydia stopped just inside the entryway, giving Lucia an encouraging nod as she and Aunt Aela continued onward into the main all.

To her relief, there were only a handful of people by the dais. Jarl Balgruuf, stern faced and obviously very unhappy, sat in his throne and watched the pair approaching. The jarl's brother, Hrongar, was standing like a giant statue beside the throne. Irileth took up the opposite side of the throne, arms crossed and looking just as blatantly unhappy as her jarl. Behind her stood the old seamstress, Irwaen. The woman looked miserable. Shrunken. Farengar, the court wizard stood there as well. The robed figure looked somewhat amused by the proceedings. Behind the two, sitting in a chair, was Dagny. Lucia couldn't believe her eyes. The girl was covered in hives from the bottom of her jaw down and disappearing underneath the very thin, very light, gown. Her hands were also covered in the spots, smaller though they were.

Lucia had seen such a skin condition during her time with her birth mother and father. She and her birth father had accidentally wandered into a patch of poison oak one day while walking through the woods. She'd gotten red patches of itchy skin while her father had gotten a similar condition to Dagny's, though not nearly as bad. Her father had explained that it was an allergic reaction to the poison oak. Potentially life threatening to those more susceptible to it. Dagny, apparently, was severely allergic to some component of the itching powder. The thought made Lucia cringe. What bad luck… As Aunt Aela and Lucia approached, Frothar rose from a nearby chair, notably not on the dais, and stood waiting. He looked forlorn, but tried to give her a reassuring smile. It didn't help.

"Companion, thank you for coming." Jarl Balgruuf started, nodding to Aunt Aela. His words were polite, but his tone was sharp. "And you, Lady Lucia."

Aunt Aela bowed and Lucia curtsied, as was proper.

"Lady Lucia, do I understand correctly that you have recently taken an interest in the alchemical arts?" Balgruuf asked.

"Yes, Jarl Balgruuf."

"And has this interest led you to the production of an itching powder of some sort?"

"Yes, Jarl Balgruuf."

The redheaded man frowned. "I've heard complaints from some of the other inhabitants of Whiterun. Most tell of a young woman, among others, wielding this powder against certain individuals. Am I also correct that this 'young woman' is you, Lady Lucia? You and your small band of friends?"

Lucia didn't like to snitch on her friends, but nodded anyways. "Yes."

"Please tell me who taught you how to make this powder and why." She did, leaving out most of the personal details involving Braith's parents and her attraction to Lars. It would probably get Ms. Serana in some hot water with the jarl, but that couldn't be helped. Once done, Jarl Balgruuf leaned forward in his throne. "So, you used this itching powder as a means of revenge. That I can understand. However, what was done to my daughter was-"

"Not her fault, Father." Frothar stepped almost in front of Lucia as if shielding her from his father. It surprised her, as well as everyone else in the room. "I approached her about the powder. It was my idea to put it in Dagny's dress. The fault lies with me, not Lady Lucia."

"Perhaps. And yet, it does not excuse her actions. Or the fact that you were both seen together in the halls outside Dagny's room moments after she first became ill." The jarl said. "That is, unless she was unaware of your intentions?"

Frothar tensed, obviously wanting to deny Lucia had any knowledge of his plans. She couldn't let him do that. She couldn't let him take the whole blame on himself. Lucia spoke up. "I knew, Jarl Balgruuf. That was my price. That I was in on the plan."

"Father, we didn't know this," Frothar motioned to his sister's reddened skin, "was going to happen. None of the others reacted this way."

Balgruuf looked to Lucia. "Is that true?"

"Yes." Lucia said instantly, trying to convey the truth in it. "I didn't know Dagny would have an allergic reaction. Otherwise, I wouldn't have agreed. The prank was intended to be just that. A prank. Nothing that would do anyone serious harm. Honest."

There was a long moment when no one spoke. The jarl scratched at his beard, then sighed. "I believe you."

Relieved, both Frothar and Lucia deflated somewhat. They said in near unison, "Thank you."

"That said, I cannot let this go without repercussions. There will be consequences to this prank. For both of you." Jarl Balgruuf looked to his court wizard. The man took that as his cue to speak.

"First, Lady, tell me what was used in the creation of your powder. I've been having trouble making a proper salve for the rash. The powder was well made. Your teacher, this… Ms. Serana, should be quite proud of her student. Perhaps not in the way you used it, but I digress." Dagny huffed at the comment, but no one challenged her. The robed man listened carefully as Lucia told him how Ms. Serana had instructed her to make the powder. Farengar nodded once she was finished. "Thank you, Lady. The information should help me greatly. And in turn, help Dagny."

"Now, Companion Aela." The jarl finally looked past the two youths and spoke to Aunt Aela. "The punishment of the Harbinger's daughter, and my son, I leave in your hands. From what I've heard, you are a stern taskmaster in such matters?"

"It… has been said before, Jarl Balgruuf." Aunt Aela said hesitantly, then continued. "You wish for me to discipline them? Both of them?"

"Aye. Do what you think best. I will trust in your judgment."

Out of the corner of her eye, Lucia saw her honorable aunt bow. "As you wish. Come you two. Best if we get this over with now."

Lucia made a finally curtsy then chased after her aunt, Frothar following soon after. Aunt Aela led them out of the keep, Lydia taking a place at the wolf's side. They spoke softly back and forth for a few minutes while they walked. Frothar drew even with Lucia and walked alongside her silently for a while. That didn't last long.

"I'm sorry I got you into this." He whispered. "I didn't intend for… any of this. Let alone getting you into trouble."

"I'm the one who asked to come." Lucia whispered back. "Thank you. For trying to take the blame. That was brave."

Despite his mood, Frothar smiled at her brightly. "For you, anything."

Lucia blinked. Anything? For her? Before she could respond, Aunt Aela snapped, "Quiet back there. I don't want to listen to your flirting right now. Do not forget you are being disciplined here."

The two stopped speaking. But Lucia didn't want to let the moment pass by and her not respond again. She reached over and allowed the knuckles of her hand to brush lightly across his. He looked over at her warm smile, saying nothing. Only the slightest twitch of his fingers against hers, and a smile to match her own. Then the moment was over.

They stopped at Breezehome long enough for Lucia to change into what Aunt Aela called "appropriate". After that, their long punishment began. Lucia wasn't surprised to find they were to perform a rigorous physical task. It was, after all, what Aunt Aela was famous for. Mama had repeatedly told stories of her own training under her Shield-Sister's demanding gaze. They ran. And ran. And ran. And, for a change of pace, they ran some more. It wasn't beyond her own physical capabilities. After all, Lucia trained for combat under her aunt when Mama was away. Sometimes even Lydia would train her. Frothar, however, struggled a little. He was more used to challenges of the mind rather than physical exertion.

Lucia encouraged him as much as she could to keep him going. Aunt Aela followed close behind barking out commands for a quicker pace. Brutal, but eventually they found themselves on the last lap around Whiterun's inner walls. By then, Frothar had found his pace and kept it easily enough. Even found the energy in himself to bump playfully into Lucia as she ran. She chuckled and returned the gesture.

Finally, they finished their last lap. Both plopped on the grass, panting heavily. To her surprise, Frothar started chuckling. Before she could ask what was funny, he got out, "Did you see Dagny's face?"

She had. Despite how everything turned out, that moment when Dagny first put on the dress… That moment when she first started itching. Lucia giggled and the two exchanged a few words, remembering. Aunt Aela stood over them frowning. "Do I need to express how unwise it would be to repeat your actions?"

"No, Aunt Aela." Lucia said, looking a bit sheepish.

"Good. Because next time I won't be so-"

Lucia hadn't been looking when Aunt Aela stopped speaking. But she heard the grunt and looked up to see her aunt's pale and pain filled face. When the wolf all but collapsed to her knees, Lucia was up and racing towards her. "Aunt Aela!"

She and Frothar helped to hold her up. Lucia had never, ever seen the werewolf falter. Like Mama, Aunt Aela was like a stone. Unbreakable and unmovable. Now, the female was shaking violently and… whining. Whimpering almost. That involuntary sound Mama made sometimes when she was in pain. A lot of pain. None of that frightened Lucia more than the look in her aunt's eyes. A look of absolute fear, sorrow and agony. Despair.

"Lucia." Her aunt grunted. "Go find your Uncle Farkas and Vilkas. T-They should be in Jorrvaskr… Go quickly, child."

"I'll look after her. Go." Frothar said quickly.

Lucia took off towards the Companion compound as fast as she possibly could. Her exhaustion gone, she made it there in record time. Already Uncle Farkas and Uncle Vilkas were staggering down the stairs. Both males looked as bedraggled as Aunt Aela had. Both with that same look of despair in their eyes. She called to them, "Uncles! Uncles! Aunt Aela collapsed!"

Both seemed to shake themselves. Uncle Vilkas spoke first. "Where is she?"

Lucia led them towards where Frothar and Aunt Aela had been. Already the pair was making their slow, painful way towards Jorrvaskr. Frothar was almost carrying the wolf's full weight as they staggered along. Lucia's heart plummeted at the sight of her honorable aunt. The female was leaking large, silent tears. Not once in the years since Mama had taken Lucia in, given her a family with aunts and uncles… well, those she loved like blood aunts and uncles… Not once had she seen her Aunt Aela weep. Not once.

The males either didn't see the tears, or didn't comment on them. Uncle Farkas took over for Frothar. The three werewolves spoke to themselves for a moment, then Uncle Vilkas turned to the two youths. "You had best return to the keep, son. This is a family matter. You understand."

"Yes, of course." Frothar said.

Uncle Vilkas nodded then turned to Lucia. "I'll take you home now, Lucia."

"But-" She started to protest, but her uncle cut her off.

"I'm taking you home now."

"But what about Aunt Aela?" Lucia asked with a worried glance towards the pair. They were slowly making their way back to Jorrvaskr. "What's wrong? Is she going to be alright? What's going on?"

Her uncle hesitated, apparently wanting to tell her nothing at all. Frothar stepped in. "If you will allow it, I will escort her home. You apparently have more pressing matters to deal with, Companion."

The male wolf turned his sharp gaze on Frothar. Lucia knew that look. Mama gave it when she was fighting her protective instincts. To her surprise, and admittedly unexpected pride, Frothar didn't flinch. He stood his ground and endured the glare. Uncle Vilkas nodded his approval. "As you wish, son. See her safely home, then leave for Dragonsreach. Your word on this?"

Frothar nodded once. "On my honor."

Another nod from the wolf, then he turned back to Lucia. "I cannot explain right now, Hon. Once my Shield-Siblings and I sort this out, we will speak. I promise. For now, please go home."

Lucia wanted to argue further, but relented. Frothar took her by the elbow and guided her away from the male and his two pack-mates. They walked slowly, the thoughts churning in Lucia's head. Worry and fear all mixing together into something that threatened to overtake her. Frothar kept himself close, providing support and comfort in the only way he could. Grateful, Lucia clung to his arm and focused on placing one foot in front of the other.

"Are you alright?" Frothar asked once they were out of the market district and away from most ears.

She shook her head. "I'm… a little shaken. I've never seen any of those three look so… scared. Not ever. It worries me."

"Has that ever happened before? Your aunt collapsing like that? Is she terminally ill?"

Lucia hesitated. The answer was no. Werewolves didn't get sick. Rarely even a small cold. But most people in Whiterun, by most meaning everyone but the jarl and a select few others, knew about the werewolf pack leading the Companions. Frothar wouldn't know or understand the implications of that. Which was what truly worried Lucia. Aunt Aela wasn't sick, and Uncles Farkas and Vilkas had obviously experienced a similar attack. So, it if wasn't an illness, it had something to do with the pack. Something only their small band of wolves could sense through either their pack link or wolf instinct. Which meant… something devastating had happened in the pack. Which likely meant… Mama… Something… bad had happened to Mama. Otherwise, it wouldn't have hit Aunt Aela, Mama's forebear, harder than the males.

Intentional tears streamed down Lucia's cheeks. She couldn't speak. Couldn't breath. Frothar noticed and tightened his hold on her arm. "Lucia? Gods… please don't cry."

"I'm s-sorry. I-I'm just r-really-" Lucia stuttered. "Worried."

Frothar halted and got her seated on a nearby crate. He hovered, obviously not knowing what to do while she cried. "Do you want me to go fetch your housecarl?"

She did, but didn't want him to leave. "Just gi- give me a m-moment. I'll be a-alright."

He sat beside her, carefully taking her hand in his own. She let him. After a long moment he said, "I was much the same when my mother got sick. I know Companion Aela isn't your mother, but… I imagine you still love her as much as your mother. Things were bad after Mother died. It was almost a fortnight before I was able to get out of bed. Father too. Even Dagny. The pain gets easier. Never really goes away, but you learn to live with it."

Lucia said nothing.

After a sight pause, Frothar shook his head. "Gods, I'm an idiot. Of course you know that. You lost your birth parents. I'm sorry."

She smiled sadly at him, feeling a bit stronger. "Don't be. You were just trying to make me feel better. Thank you."

They looked at their still joined hands. Frothar blushed and tried to let go. Lucia tightened her grip, not wanting him to let go. He looked at her, his face growing brighter. "I'd better get you home. I gave your uncle my word of honor."

---

Lucia didn't have much of an appetite. The bowl of sweet, hot grain before her held absolutely no appeal. Nor had she the energy to go outside. Or even to sleep. Lydia eyed her worriedly, but said nothing. She'd tried repeatedly the past few days to heighten Lucia's mood. But to no success. Instead, she sat nearby and gave her silent support. Since that night, nothing seemed to hold any importance at all.

As promised, Uncle Vilkas came to see her the very same night Aunt Aela had collapsed. The others came too, Aunt Aela looking exhausted yet determined. Each of the Circle Leaders had a bulging pack hanging over their shoulders. Though it had been Uncle Vilkas who'd made the promise, it was Aunt Aela who spoke with her.

"I will not lie to you, child." Aunt Aela said wistfully after they'd each taken a seat by the hearth. "The Harbinger- Your mother… Her link with the pack has been severed. Her presence in my consciousness is gone. Do you understand the significance of that?"

Lucia felt her heart drop into her feet. Despite the urge to break down into tears again, she nodded. A pack link was something each wolf in a pack felt constantly. Like… each member had a certain… feel in another pack member's mind. Not a sense of their mood or actions, but just that they were there. It was strong between the wolves themselves, but intensely so between a forebear and their moonborn child. Aunt Aela felt the sudden loss far stronger than Uncle Farkas or Vilkas did.

Hesitantly, Lucia asked, "Is… Is she dead?"

Aunt Aela closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Carefully, though her voice trembled slightly, she answered. "It is possible. A death is… often the cause of such a strongly severed connection."

The tears came again, though Lucia tried very hard not to let them fall. She failed. Aunt Aela was not a soft female. Never had been. She was harsh and short tempered and cold most of the time. However, the female slid from the chair and knelt directly in front of Lucia. There were tears in her eyes too. Despite the males watching, despite Lydia watching, Aunt Aela pulled her into a tight embrace and let her cry. Minutes went by and the usually hard female moved not an inch, allowing Lucia the time to take control of her emotions. When the tears calmed, the wolf spoke to her softly. Kinder than ever before.

"We can't be sure of anything until we investigate for ourselves. Dead or alive, I will bring her home. No matter what it takes. I swear it."

After that, the wolves left Whiterun. From what little she heard of a conversation between the Companions and Lydia, they were traveling west to Dragon Bridge then north to the coast. That was where Mama said she and Ms. Serana were going. Lydia had obviously wanted to accompany them, but remained to look after Lucia's wellbeing. She'd given her oath to protect the child of her Thane, and she would keep that oath even if her Thane had passed. Days later, there was still no word. Not a peep. Though, by now, the Circle wolves were likely just getting to or just about to leave Rorikstead. They would ride hard and fast to make good time. Mila and Lars tried to visit, even Braith tried, but Lydia sent them away after Lucia said she didn't want company.

On the third night, there was a knock on the door. Lydia was busy in the kitchen so Lucia answered it expecting to find Mila, Lars, or Braith. It wasn't any of them. A short squat man, she recognized as one of Dragonsreach's many messengers, stood holding out a small slip of paper. He handed it to her and strode away without a word. Curious at the odd behavior, she watched the man disappear around a corner. Lucia was about to call out to the housecarl when her name on the paper caught her attention. It was in a familiar handwriting. Frothar's handwriting.

She scanned the note quickly, then shoved it in her dress pocket. Lydia called from the kitchen, "Who is it?"

"I didn't see." She lied. "They ran off."

After supper and safely in her room, Lucia pulled out the note to read it again. It was short, no more than a few lines. A request to meet with him under the Gildergreen later on that night. She thought about telling Lydia, but decided against it. Likely the housecarl wouldn't let her go after that whole mess with Dagny. Sneaking out wouldn't be hard. And… truth be told, Lucia wanted to see Frothar alone.

So once Lydia's heavy snoring started, Lucia carefully and quietly padded out of the house. The torchlights were already lit, though most people were already home for the night. The guards were on their usual patrol as she walked quickly to the Gildergreen. Most of the guards ignored her completely. Only one seemed to take notice, but said nothing. Frothar was already waiting alone under the great tree.

"Hello." He said simply as she approached. "I was starting to think you weren't coming."

"I had to wait until Lydia fell asleep." She explained. "I doubt she would have let me come. How is Dagny?"

"Still the same. Farengar's attempts haven't done any good. The welts are a little better, but… still itching badly. Your aunt looked… better." That was a stretch. Before she left, Aunt Aela looked like the dead walking. They were quiet for a moment, then he asked, "How are you? Father got an urgent message from the Companions about your mother."

"I'm… better than I was. Aunt Aela thinks Mama is in trouble. Real trouble." Lucia wanted badly to tell him the whole story, but wouldn't. It wasn't her secret to tell after all. Instead she made up a story about the Companions receiving a request for aid. True, for the most part.

"I was worried about you. First your aunt, and now your mother. I want to help, but…" He frowned down at his boots again, obviously wanting to say something else.

"What is it?"

Frothar sighed. "My father. He's… really angry. He forbade me from seeing you. Even to contact you. It's… frustrating."

"Wait…" Lucia looked around, noticing there were no guards at all. No escort. No patrols. They were really alone. "He 'forbade' you? How did you get here then?"

Frothar glared down at his boots. "I had to get Irwaen to help me sneak out."

"Frothar, you're going to get into even more trouble." Lucia hissed. "Why do this? Why?"

He moved quickly, placing a single, lingering kiss on her cheek. She froze, completely taken by surprise. "I had to see you. I had to… make sure you were alright."

Formal capacity… Lucia's mind went back to those words spoken only a few days ago in the halls outside Dagny's room. He'd been serious. Serious enough to risk his father's ire by sneaking out of the keep to meet her. Hadn't she herself risked the same to see him? Hiding the note from Lydia? Sneaking out of the house alone?

"I wish… I wish your father wasn't so angry. I'd like to see you too. How did you say it? 'Often, if that does not offend'?"

Frothar's smile nearly split his face in two. "Really?"

She chuckled. "As long as you don't try to put more taffy in my hair."

"Never, ever again. By my honor." He bowed formally, making her giggle with delight. For the first time in days, she felt the gloom lift slightly. When Frothar rose, he took her hand in his own. "I will speak with my father. Convince him somehow to change his mind. Maybe in a few days, once he's calmed down. I just need time."

Lucia nodded her assent. "With any luck, maybe I'll hear from Aunt Aela about Mama by then."

"I'm sure everything will be alright. Your mother is the Dragonborn, after all." He smiled reassuringly. They listened to the light breeze blowing through the Gildergreen blossoms overhead for a few moments. It was a soothing sound. And the pink blossoms were so very pretty. Finally, Frothar asked, "May I walk you home?"

"That's probably not a good idea. If anyone saw…"

"At least as far as the Plains District then?"

Though she still didn't think it was a good idea, Lucia relented. He offered his arm. She took it and they walked slowly away from the Gildergreen. Though she was filled with worry over… everything, for that brief time Lucia felt at ease. Calmer. Was this what love felt like? Or at least… what it felt like to care for someone beyond friendship? The beginning of something bigger? She'd read about such things in stories. Romance and such. It seemed so… distant from the reality of everyday life. Mama said love was hard. Love was a choice to be made. A choice that two people had to keep making over and over again despite all hardships.

Suddenly the conversation she'd had with Ms. Serana came to mind. The vampire admitted she cared for Mama, but had something in the way. Something big that was hard to talk about. An obstacle. And she was trying to decided whether or not the obstacle was too big. A choice. Just as Mama said. How very much Lucia wished she could talk to her Mama right then. How very badly she hoped she wasn't… gone.

Too soon they reached the Plains District. Frothar seemed hesitant to let her continue on alone. Even so, he stopped and allowed her to remove herself from his arm. "Goodnight."

Lucia smiled at him one last time, said her goodbye, then continued on home. Sleep came easier than it had in the past few days. Though the next day was full of heavy rain and loud thunder, she slept on through the morning until fairly late. Something about the rain made her feel… clean. Refreshed. Mama often said the rain was the Gods' way of purification. New beginnings, or making something anew. Lucia prayed that was true. Prayed that, at that very moment, Aunt Aela and the others had found Mama and Ms. Serana. That they were alright and on their way home. Thunder rumbled in the distance, as if in answer.