A/N: What do you mean it took me two years to update?! How come no one told me?! LOL


Chapter Seven: The mind replays the past


The snow crunched under his feet as he ran through the vast winter land. The snow storm had just ceased, leaving everything coated in snow. There was no wind nor a sound as one would expect from the wildlife but this was of no importance to him.

I need to hurry, was the urgent thought that rang in his head as he ran. He didn't even bother to stop and tend to his wounds after the surprise attack at Solitude. He was certain that he already had frostbites all over his body, not dressed for the current freezing temperature. He had already discarded the chef's outfit he had donned days ago, now wearing his own shrouded armour he was given since his joining of the Dark Brotherhood.

He was out of breath, exhausted to the bones but he didn't dare stop.

They were betrayed. Someone within the organization had betrayed them!

But who would dare betray them? They were a family!

Cicero had popped up in his mind, and it didn't help that he had attacked them before. But no, Cicero would never betray the Night Mother. If ever, he was the most dedicated to the organization, however much of a bizarre person he was.

Those thoughts were put to a stop as he turned to a corner closing in to the sanctuary. However, all traces of hope vanished in an instant the moment he saw the state of the area.

He was too late.


It's already mid-afternoon by the time they arrive at Dawnstar, the snowstorm having ceased hours upon arrival. The sounds of moving waves from the sea fill the air, accompanied by the distant sounds varying voices belonging to those who dwell in this city. The air strongly smells of salt water, one that reminds of Winterhold, yet it's somehow much more different...smelling much more of civilization.

Charna blinks out of her silent stupor as Hasan leads her to the local inn named Windpeak Inn. Having been in this city many times (as he has informed her), he's quite familiar with the area and mentions being friends with the local innkeeper whose name is Thoring. Upon entering mentioned inn, he's greeted by several people, much to Charna's irritation.

Everyone just seems to know him, don't they? She thought sarcastically to herself, silently following after her companion.

"Ah, Hasan!" A tall middle-aged Nord man greets upon the sight of the Redguard. He sets down the glass he is wiping as the pair walks up to the counter.

"Well, it certainly has been a long time, hasn't it? Where have you been, boy?"

"Out and about. You know, the usual," Hasan responds, taking a seat on one of the stools by the counter. He takes one glance at Charna, ushering her to occupy the seat beside him. Silently, she obliges, not really in the mood to be difficult.

The innkeeper, a middle aged Nord, looks at the female Brenton with curiosity upon noticing her.

"Well now, this is quite a surprise," the man comments with a hint of mild surprise. "And who is this lovely lady accompanying you?"

Hasan's face beams happily, a wide smile on his face.

"This? She's my love-"

Before he can finish his sentence, Charna elbows him harshly on his side, earning a painful groan from the tall Redguard.

"Travel companion. Nothing more," she informs the Nord who watches them with slight amusement. "I'll have a mug of ale and charge him for it please."

The Nord let out a deep, boisterous laughter, nearly surprising her due to how loud it is.

"You've certainly found your match, haven't you, Hasan?"

Charna opens her mouth to tell him that no, he hasn't met his match, but the Nord man has already turned away to fetch her order. Grudgingly, she huffs and crosses her arms on her chest.

"All your acquaintances are certainly insufferable as you are, huh?" She observes with an unimpressed expression. Hasan only tilts his head to the side in question, a sight she finds strangely irresistible. She almost gags at that thought, wondering what the hell is wrong with her.

"How long do you plan to stay here?" She asks, thanking Thorim? – Thorin? (Damn it, she can't remember already) as he serves them their order.

"A few days at most," he says, a rather sullen and strange smile settling on his face. "We won't be staying for long. Shouldn't take too long to settle everything."

Although she is curious to know what matter he needs taken care of, Charna decides not to probe. Something in Hasan's demeanour has changed the moment they step in Dawnstar. Whilst he still flirts with her and sends her that foolish grin of his, there are traces of sullenness and even harshness that manage to unveil themselves in his face when he thinks she's not paying attention to him.

Hasan tries to pull out a few spare coins to pay the Nord man but he refuses.

"I still am indebted to what you've done for this village. Everything's on me today, friend – both the food and room," the man tells him with a toothy grin while wiping a mug dry with a cloth.

"Don't be like that, Thoring. You know I don't mind donating to your business!" Hasan looks like he is jesting as usual but she can see the sincerity in his face as he insists on paying.

The older man only lets out a deep, boisterous laugh, suddenly ruffling her companion's hair.

"Keep the money, lad. I insist." And that seems to be the end of the conversation as the man excuses himself to greet a customer that has just entered.

Charna silently watches their exchange, sipping her ale.

"How surprising," she suddenly comments, earning his attention. "That was the first time seeing you not able to stand up to someone. You're usually a stubborn fool."

Hasan pouts at that, leaning dangerously close to her. She glares at him for that but makes no move to pull away.

"Well, Thoring is a force to reckon," he says in a flippant manner.

"What exactly did you do for this village anyway?" She asks, remembering Thoring's words from earlier.

The Redguard crosses his arms, tilting his head to the side as he tries to recollect the events.

"Well, everyone in this city couldn't sleep because they kept having the same horrible nightmares. It turns out that Vaermina was the reason for the epidemic. Had to destroy some artifact called Skull of...something...anyway, I can't remember. So it's your typical kick some idiot's arse and everything is all rainbows and flowers again."

Charna eyes the weather outside from one of the windows with a cynical expression on her face.

"...you mean snow and ice everywhere," she points out blandly.

"Hey, it's a metaphor, okay?"

"Why, Hasan! I didn't know you know what a metaphor is!" She gasps mockingly, making him pout.

"Why can't you ever be nice to me?" He whines, leaning his entire form on her side. She yelps in surprise, almost dropping her mug of ale at the sudden addition of weight on her. She desperately attempts to push him off of her though it was obvious that it barely makes any difference.

"Move, you oaf! You're heavy!"

"Not until you start being nice to me~!"

"I'll castrate you before that ever happens!"

Thoring watches the pair with amusement, having just taken the order of the customer.

"Well, they certainly get along well," he chuckles to himself. Though he would have preferred to watch them for longer for some much more needed entertainment, he had to intervene eventually when he sees the female Breton summon flames to no doubt char her companion. He is, after all, still a businessman and would prefer to have some sort of income still. After all, an inn destroyed in flames will obviously be of no use to him.


The next day, when Charna wakes up, she finds a note on her bedside. With a moody expression and still muddled thoughts, she tries to read its contents.

I'll be back by tomorrow morning for that errand I need to tend to. Hope you dreamt of me during your slumber! ;)

She scoffs after reading the note, throwing it on the ground as she buries her face on her pillow. A quick glance at the window tells her that it's already nightfall.

With a grumble, she rolls over to the side of the bed to get up, the sheets shuffling at her every movement.

Padding through the bathroom, she cleans herself up and prepares for the day.

Not long after, she walks outside of her assigned room. She almost grimaces at the commotion by the dining hall, noting the guardsmen occupying most of the inn. Thoring, notices her and waves at her in greeting. She only offers him a nod as a greeting before heading out.

The night is incredibly cold the moment she steps out. She can see her breath every time she exhales, involuntarily making her shiver. She tightens the fur coat against her body to revel on the warmth it provides.

From her position at the paved outdoor area of the inn, she has a clear view of the docks. Sailors and fishermen alike are preparing to head home for the day. Some remain by their ship, drinking ale and exchanging stories of their adventures.

She almost envies them for leading such normal lives, for being happy.

Casting her eyes away from them, she pulls out a weathered scroll from her pack. Unrolling it reveals a map of Skyrim.

"Morthal is to the southwest of here," she murmurs to herself, trailing the page with her gloved finger. "A week of travel, at least."

Once Hasan is done with his business here, surely they can head there next if she so suggests it. Still, he hasn't exactly specified where they're heading to after all this. Which brings up the question she has always wondered since they first started travelling together – how long does he intend for her to travel with him as his assistant?

They have been travelling for nearly half a year now and as much as she refuses to admit it, not having him around seems...odd. She's grown accustomed to his constant presence.

Is she slowly depending on him?

"No."

Her grip on the scroll tightens, crinkling the weathered page.

"I will never depend on anyone once again."

Not after losing Clyde.


The door creaks open, light pooling inside the dark room.

An exhausted looking Nord woman enters the room, soot and dirt still staining her features and attire. She sets the pickaxe she is carrying by the door, discarding her dirtied boots off somewhere in the corner.

Hasan tips his head towards the woman who has yet to notice him. He watches her silently as she plods to the corner of the room to light up the lamp of the room. Her back still turned towards him, he crosses his legs, tapping his finger on the table he has his one arm resting on.

"Evening, Lady Beitild."

Almost instantly, the woman swivels around, the alarm and surprise apparent in her weary features.

"W-who are you?! What are you doing in my house?!"

Hasan barely bats an eyelash as he makes show of inspecting his fingers.

"You've been quite the naughty one, haven't you? To have someone contract the Dark Brotherhood for your life."

The woman's eyes grow wide at his words. In a blink of an eye, she dives down for the pickaxe she set on the edge of the door upon her entrance. However, before she is able to, something swishes past her face. She stumbles on the wooden floor, hand stuck on something. When she investigates what it is that has stopped her, she sees a dagger buried on her palm against the wall. The blood has already begun dripping down her arm.

The very sight sends her into a frenzied sob, body shaking as she attempts to pull out the weapon.

Hasan slowly saunters over her frantic form, tossing his other dagger up and down with his left hand. He drinks in the fearful emotion on her face, memorizing it. He can feel the excitement seeping through his veins, delighting at the sight of her suffering form.

"Someone wants you dead, Lady Beitild." he informs her in a singsong manner.

The woman looks up at him with tearful eyes and yet she still manages to look angry, rebellious.

"And let me guess, that someone is my so-called husband Leigelf? Well the feeling's mutual."

Hasan lets out an amused chortle at that.

"Ah, I do so love it when the prey acts all brave. Worry not, I am a gentleman. I do not torture women."

He aims his dagger at her face, that manic grin never leaving his face.

"Any last words?"

"Go to Oblivion!"

He chuckles in response.

"I will, eventually."

The flame from the lamp flickers as the body drops on the ground, making a muted thump. Blood begins to pool beneath her body, a sight that almost reminds him of that noblewoman's dead body, of her anguished expression as she uttered her last words.

No one will want you, Hasan. No one.

Rather than feeling that familiar emptiness inside of him, Charna's face crosses his mind. He suddenly lets out a laugh, one that makes his belly ache. His grin turns genuine, almost serene at the thought of her.

"You're wrong."

I have her.