Sweat beaded down my temples from the humidity in the air alone. Stepping out of my home every morning was suppose to be the relief I longed for, but during a hot summer's day, it only caused steam to roll from my pores. The warmth emitting from the gravel road gave off enough heat to make me melt down before them, making the agony of the weather ten times worse. And to top it all off, the day was Loredas, so everyone was bustling in to the market district from the main gates, and I lived smack in the middle of the both of them, so the street before me was bustling with traders and shoppers.
"Get a move on," spoke a rough feminine voice behind me, as I felt myself getting shoved towards the rows of people, "we're burning the day!" I scowled back at my mother, whom was smiling at me a little too brightly for this early in the morning. The bags under my eyes caused my facial features to darken more than I would have enjoyed. Her short cut, jet black hair barely touched her shoulders, appearing like curtains for her face. Though her hair was graying in places from her age, her sharp brown eyes countered those feathers, and showed that her age was nothing to judge her on.
"I think the day's trying to burn me." I said, feeling the corners of my lips pushing back my cheeks. My adoptive mother, Lydia, was a local housecarl here in Whiterun. She had since retired, realizing that her husband could easily take care of himself, though she enjoyed accompanying him during his travels when I was younger. That all changed when she retired from adventuring, and took an open position as Captain of the Guard, which Jarl Frothar had no trouble offering her, given her years of service.
"Easy on her Lydia," spoke a burly voice from behind her, "she's still young, let her live a little." A pair of arms the size of spruce logs wrapped around my mother's waist, which surprised her periodically, before she placed her hands on his and leaned back, resting her head against his shoulder. I don't know why he always called me young, I had just celebrated my twenty-second birthday, which seemed elderly enough for me. Lydia sighed into my father's thick brown beard before she spoke, eyeing me happily.
"Well, Braith," she began, "I suppose one day off wouldn't hurt." I could feel a smile tugging against my cheeks, as I released the hard grip on my birth father, Amren's sword, and turned towards the market district. I didn't have time to take off my armour, I had to see him now before he departed on his mission. I turned away from my parents, towards the main gates, and sprinted against the flow of the crowd headed to the shops for the day. I reminded myself to thank my father when I got back, not able to remember the last time I had a Loredas off from training.
I didn't have time to go down the path when I exited from the gates, and continued sprinting forward. I lept off the edge of the cliffside, rolling against the wood of the walkway above the final gate at the bottom of the hillside, which was only a few feet down from the rocky side I jumped from. A few guards on duty there became startled, and were most likely ready to detain me had they not seen who I was, knowing full well who my mother was. I waved to them both, who gingerly released the swords they'd grabbed for in shock, before I leapt down from the battlement, to stand in front of a few Imperial soldiers just about to exit the final gates.
I looked toward one of the soldiers off to the right, who donned glimmering steel imperial armour, that shawn against the eastern morning sun. His light brown hair hung out from the sides of his open helmet, and a foolish grin donned his face when he recognized me, despite my steel plate armour, save the helmet.
"Baby Battle-Born!" I yelled to him, grinning equally as wide as he. I stepped forward and took him in a tight hug, letting our armours clang together nonchalantly. Despite the height difference between us at this stage of our lives, I was still a year older, and he was still a baby to me, who occasionally handed me some septims or risk his life keeping it from me. Lars let out a chuckle at his old nickname from our childhood years, before stepping away from me and taking a heavy punch to the arm where his armour cut off. He winced in pain as I smirked at him.
"Thought you could take off without saying goodbye to me?!" I howled at him, doing my best to fake some anger. He looked a bit sheepish when I said this, and turned away slightly, rubbing the back of his neck under his helmet.
"Sorry," he began, "I was in a bit of a hurry, I barely got to say goodbye to Mila, and she lives with me." He was still turned away when my face flickered to pain, but I covered it up with a laugh. It was true, I had always had a bit of a crush on Lars, and we were each other's first kiss, but I guess the girl who had decided to be nice to him instead of beat him up everyday has stolen his heart. It didn't affect our friendship, though; I had always done my best to get along with Mila, but the thought of having lost a love still prickled in the back of my mind.
I shrugged his comment off, "Oh well," I said, "at least I caught up to you to get mine."
"Yeah" he smiled, ignoring the awkward stares from his comrades who has no idea who I was. There was a bit of a pause before he spoke up again.
"Well," he said, returning the punch I gave him earlier with a lighter one, "I guess I'll see you in a month or two, Braith. Take care of Mila for me?"
I smiled. "Anything for the family, Lars." I said, as he turned to walk past me. I stepped out of his way and gave a little wave, which he returned, before he walked off with the rest of his company. My smile fell when he went out of sight, and I heaved a sigh of exhaustion, still dealing with these pent up emotions I felt for him. Why couldn't Mila have died of food poisoning when she was younger? I had nothing against her, but it would have made my life sure a hell of a lot easier.
My walk back up to the main gate was long and tiresome, especially in steel plate armour that I'd practically slept in this past week. My mother was becoming increasingly persistent with her training, and when she wasn't teaching me how to skewer a man in four seconds or less, my father was helping me perfect the Unrelenting Force shout that I'd been training with since I asked about it when he took me in. I had it down for the most part, but the occasional hiccup happened every now and then, literally. Whenever you messed up the incantation or didn't put enough power into it, it was like a giant dovah hiccup blew you backwards. So far, I'd busted a beam on Warmaiden's, a few doors in the house, and the windows of The Drunken Huntsman.
When I reached the top of the hill, next to the gates, I gazed out towards the southern end of Skyrim. I could see Lars and his company moving through the Whiterun fields, headed east towards Riverwood. There, they would unite with another company consisting of some locals from there who had joined the Legion, and assist in their training. They would continue on to Falkreath to complete it, and return when they felt satisfied with the recruits' progress.
With Mila on my mind, I decided that I should go and pay her a visit. I stepped back through the gates and into the main city, and decided to head up the steps instead of checking the Market District for her, in case mom had changed her mind about training. When I finally reached the steps of the Battle-Born house, I couldn't help but glance at my old home. Pain shot through me when I saw the doorway open, and a happy family stepping outside with a little girl resting in the mother's arms. Little do they know about the horrors those walls once held, and memories that will never leave me because of it.
I turned away from the house I once called home, and knocked on the door a few times. After a moment of waiting, the wooden frame opened to a small blonde man standing at about my height, with a slight advantage. I smiled up to him, tilting my head in a friendly manor.
"Jon!" I said cheerily, looking past him slightly, "Is Mila at home?"
"N-Noope!" He nearly yelled it at me, bouncing himself back and forth between the sides of the doorway, pushing off one side and the other. It only just occurred to me that he was holding a half empty bottle of mead in his hand, and I wondered to myself what number that was for him on this early morning. "She went down to the stall! Not the horse stall though, the veggie stall." he continued.
I nodded, "Thanks Jonny!" I said, waving as I backed away from the doorway and made my way down the steps. He attempted to return the wave, before stumbling backwards into the house and shutting the doorway. I made my way towards the tree near the Temple of Kynareth, careful not to glance at my old home, with a simple goal in mind to make it to the market district.
I turned at the tree and made my way down the stone steps, taking in the sight of the shops all around the bottom of the stone. Off to the right at the stalls, I could see Mila handing one of her customers a fresh looking gourd, which they both made to smile about. Septims clinked into Mila's hands before she slipped them into the bottom of her pockets, and she was left to once again observe everyone else receiving business.
"Still no cheese wheels," I said, tsk'ing as I walked past Mila's stall and came to stand in front of it. Her face lit up when she saw me, and she practically beamed at me. Despite her happy expression, bags tainted her eyes that screamed of stress, no doubt for Lars and his travels. She was probably just happy to see another friendly face to take her mind off the entire thing.
"Good morning, Braith!" the smile on her voice emitted through her voice. I examined the stall before her, that was so well kept and well organized, with each display of organic food being perfectly faced and placed, to show how professional Mila was when she took over for her mother. In all honesty, I believe myself she was just a neat freak. "Not training today?" she continued to speak, to which I replied with a simple shake of my head.
"She let me go for the day," I said cheerfully, "thanks to father convincing her I needed some me time." Despite having said all this, I kept the thought at the back of my head that maybe they were the ones wanting some alone time. My inner self cringed a little before leaning against the countertop of the stall.
"So Lars is off again?" I spoke, keeping my tone cautious, in case she was upset like she was the last couple of times he went off campaigning. Sure enough, her face grew dark and secluded, but she still managed some sort of cheery tone.
"Yes, once more," she said simply, "but at least it's only for training, no actual combat." Her smile brightened a little when she finished with that, and I kept myself from pointing out how the legion actually works. My father had told me all about when he was initiated into the legion; how his first task was to take a fort just north-west of Solitude from bandits. He along with a few other fresh recruits and a legate set out to take the fort. Though the legate stayed back and observed for the most part, he was still at risk if he wasn't careful. No doubt that Lars would be doing some sort of similar tasks with his recruits eventually.
I didn't worry too much about Lars. We spared on our off days, and his swordsmanship has truly improved as we both matured. He could handle himself against foolish highwaymen, but Mila never understood any of that. She rarely left the city, had little to no combat skills, and mostly enjoyed the peace and quiet that came with living in the richest trading district in all of Skyrim. I couldn't blame her for this, having only her mother to learn from, as she inherited the food stall from her when she became too old to operate it anymore.
"Yeah," I left her statement at that, not wanting to say too much or leave to awkward of silence. Sure enough though, one came out of it all. Mila and I never had a real problem with each other, but we weren't exactly the best of friends. We only ever made small talk, or talked about Lars.
I stumbled a bit too close for my own comfort towards the food stall and towards Mila, when a blunt force wrapped itself around my neck and sent me forward. I glanced over my left shoulder to see a long brown-haired Breton girl with a bright smile.
"Erith!" I snapped at her, as I steadied myself against, standing on my own, "What have I told you about jumping me?"
"Sorry sis," Erith spoke, dusting off her blacksmith's apron and standing apart from me suddenly. Her smile never wavered, but it did settle to one that was more steady and calm. Erith was my adopted sister, one of the other children that my parents had taken in from the harshness of Skyrim. Erith was originally from a mine near Markarth, and had lost her mother to a mining accident before bumping into my mother and father in their travels. They took her in first, and me shortly after.
"How's Adrianne today?" I asked my sister, curious as to what she had been taught today.
"Amazing!" she returned, her smile brightening, "We've been working with some scrap dwarven parts all morning! We brought them from a trader who came early to the market, and we just finished melting them down into molds and-" as much as I loved my sister, and her passion for creation, I couldn't help but tune out sometimes when she rambled on. This time was different, however, because I lost my focus on her for a different reason.
"Why are mother and father in their Imperial armor?" I said, my eyes drifting over to the road coming from the main gates. Erith stopped moving her arm in what appeared to be a stabbing position, and turned to see that our parents were indeed covered in red cloth and shining steel. They walked side by side through the market district, closed helmets locked under their arms as they walked, turning heads and causing whispers. The smiles that dawned on their faces from this morning were replaced with my father's features, and my mother held an expression she only wore when she was about to gut one of her foes.
I stepped into the crowd and fell in line beside them, hearing Erith do the same.
"What's going on?" I asked up to my mother, who turned with an open mouth, but was cut off by my father's sharp voice.
"Not now girls," he nearly yelled, causing the air around him to vibrate with the power of his shouts, "important and classified Imperial business." his voice was cold, and he didn't even glance back at us as he trudged up the stone steps, heading for Dragonsreach.
"Woah now," cried Erith from beside me, "that's not the tone you take up with your daughters!" This made our father stop, and he turned to us with piercing eyes that were glowing with embers. He didn't say anything, but I could see the flames in his pupils begin to burn down slightly. Eventually, he closed them and sighed to himself.
"You really want to know what's going on?" his tone softened, and he smiled a bit. When he opened his eyes again, he looked us over with pride. Pride in his daughters, who he had raised to be natural fighters as he and our mother was. Pride with us for not only achieving the height of our skills, but developing new, unique ones as well. Pride in his children, whom he would never have even considered adopted to him anymore.
"Yes," I said sternly, not breaking our new found eye contact. His eyes crinkled a bit as his smile grew.
"Then follow me," he said, "we're going to see the Jarl."
—
A.N.: Hey folks! for those of you that find this story familiar, that's because it is! This is a story I had previously started and never finished, that I ended up taking down because I didn't want to leave anyone else reading a dozen chapters then waiting in suspense for what came next. So why upload it now you might ask? Well, I may have...
Finished the story.
But before you go screaming for joy, I don't plan to upload the entire story at once. I want to upload each chapter on a schedule, that way it gives a better chance for people to find and enjoy this story that, hopefully, gets as much love as the last time I tried to publish it.
Don't forget to follow so you know when each new chapter gets uploaded, and leave a review on what tasty news you think the Jarl has in store...