It wasn't long before Danica moved on from the Stormcloak camp. She was no less confused than she had ever been, but she knew that hiding like this was not the answer to her problems. She needed to do what she had come here for; she needed to make a name for herself. So she said her goodbyes and moved on, several hundred gold richer than she had been when she'd arrived.

Danica set forth, determined to make something of herself, determined to forget about Hadvar, to forget Alvor. To change her life for the better and stop moping. It only worked partially. When she was busy, she could forget, but every night as she lay down to sleep, she found herself once more dwelling on Hadvar. Some nights, she thought of Alvor. They haunted her restful moments, taunting her, calling her coward and daring her to face them.

It was many months before her adventures took her back in the direction of Riverwood, and she nearly refused the job. She was a Companion, and she'd been sent to help someone who needed her help, and she was almost too much of a coward to go. But she'd gone, eventually, because she couldn't explain to Farkas that she was a coward and was afraid to face a man.

So she had gone to Riverwood. It was night when she arrived, and though part of her wanted to sneak in, unnoticed, in the middle of the night, she had sternly reminded herself that she had some pride, and that she had a reputation to maintain, no matter how tarnished it was with certain of this community.

It was midday when she strode into Riverwood, as though she had every right to be there. And in fact, she did, as long as she stayed away from the forge. She was there for Faendal, not for Hadvar or Alvor. Her job was to rough Faendal up, and she thought that it was perhaps just the sort of job she needed to deal with the anxiety that being here was causing her.

She found the bosmer chopping wood near the mill. He didn't see her approach. When she tapped his shoulder, he set the axe down and turned to face her, all unsuspecting mellowness. Danica nearly felt bad. Nearly. She thought of being merciful, of only beating him a little. But when she told him that she was here to teach him a lesson, his face had gone from innocent to angrily calculating. He had punched her, and that had been the end of it.

Danica unleashed her frustration on his face, landing blow after blow with her bare fists. He didn't manage to hit her again.

She left Faendal crouched there, clutching his swollen and bruised cheek, staring after her with a look of fear and anger. She might regret it later, if he ever got it in his head to retaliate, but she honestly doubted it would be an issue. Faendal was not known for his bravery.

Danica wasn't able to resist asking after Hadvar, only to be told that he was out. Gone for a few weeks, they told her. On some mission they wouldn't tell her about. She'd almost been disappointed.

Almost.

Still she found herself lurking on the guard walk-over, watching Alvor work. There was no sign of Sigrid, and she found that strange. She had expected to see the woman scowling at her by now. Had expected someone to have told her that her least-favorite traveler had returned to Riverwood.

Instead, Danica was left unmolested as she sat and watched the blacksmith work.

When the sun finally set, and there was no sign of the disapproving nord-woman, Danica wasn't able to resist asking.

"Killed by a dragon," the guard had told her with a sad look. Danica had gasped, properly appalled. She hadn't had to feign her sadness.

Sure, she had been a terrible person, and sure she had been horrible to her family, but it was a sad fate nonetheless. She knew they would miss Sigrid, she had been Alvor's wife, and Dorthe's mother.

She wanted to go comfort him. To be part of his life and his family, even after everything. But in the back of her mind, a small voice warned her that it would be a mistake. That she would just hurt him. Because they couldn't be together. She couldn't be a good mother to Dorthe, and the girl deserved one.

Instead, Danica sat upon the catwalk and stared at the empty smithy.

She was so alone.