Soooo I lied haha. I couldn't help but have more inspiration for this story. I can't guarantee a consistent upload schedule right now, but I will do my best to have the chapters out every once in while. It may also take playing at least two of the main questlines and doing a bunch of research (But I'm not complaining )
TheSamanthaborn: Thank you so much for taking the time to read this story! I'm glad to hear that you liked the way I did the Helgen stuff. When I was playing, I got to thinking what would happen if it was a prisoner who had escaped from elsewhere ended up there. And it just kind of snowballed from there! I haven't written anything else for Skyrim before, this is actually my first fic for it and I'm glad to learn who Rhys is as well!
I haven't really come up with much about Rhys but I figured I would just see what comes to me/or about her in whatever situation she's in. Ultimately that's what defines someone I suppose!
Now on with the show!
Chapter 2:
Prisoner of
Dragonsreach
Whiterun, 3:12 pm.
After having lingered for another hour in Riverwood, the mismatched duo continued their journey, spending another four hours on horseback to the crown jewel of Skyrim. The city of Whiterun rose into view, standing tall on the horizon, surrounded by dark clouds.
Thunder cracked and lightning flashed through the sky and Rhys hoped that the rain would hold out just a little while longer. A cool breeze wafted through the fields as the horse sauntered on, the Imperial guard continuing to stay quiet. It had been a hard journey for everyone and the young woman could feel her eyes once again trying to slide shut in sleep. However, she didn't long to fall off the horse, knowing the guard would probably be less than helpful.
Her eyes widened as she felt the horse go into a canter, body lurching as Rhys did her best to stay balanced. She swallowed hard, her stomach turning as the surrounding walls of Whiterun edged closer and closer. The rhythm of her heart continued to quicken when she spotted guards off in the distance on patrol, goosebumps prickling her skin.
"Hail!" A croaky voice shouted above the continuing thunder. "You lookin' to shelter your horse for the night?"
"May as well. This oncoming storm doesn't bode well." The Imperial dismounted, soon helping Rhys off the horse, holding onto the rope still attached to her bonds.
"Well, you've got the right place. Skulvar Saber-Hilt at your service."
"Take good care of her."
The men exchanged gold and a few more meager words before the small patters of rain urged them to press on. Rhys's body shivered at the cold water falling, only clothed in a tattered blouse, linen pants, and the shoes gifted to her by the woman at the Sleeping Giant.
After what seemed like another age, walking the twisted and turning path to the main gate, it loomed over the pair. The rain now fell like a waterfall, soaking them both, though the guard they approached paid it no mind. He seemed only intent on fulfilling his duties, a hand raising.
"Halt, the city's closed with the threat of dragons about. Official business only."
"I was sent by my Captain to make sure you got this back." Rhys felt the Imperial guard grab her tightly around the right bicep, a pinching pain appearing in her muscle. She struggled slightly but felt him give her a shake causing her to back down. With her free shoulder, the woman tried to wipe some of her dripping hair out of her face, but it was to no avail. The rain still fell like bullets, thunder rippling through the air. "Her name is Rhys Dahlgren."
"Follow me."
Rhys felt herself get jerked around and handed off to the Whiterun guard, a few others joining him in their soaking walk up to Dragonsreach. Her eyes watched the Imperial who seemed to feel he was no longer needed, begin making his way to the Bannered Mare, more than likely to celebrate the end of his current task.
The rain had chased almost everyone inside and Rhys was thankful for it. She was sure that news of what she had done had no doubt spread through the town after she left. It would almost be impossible not to as the act had happened inside the Bannered Mare itself.
Her body began shivering, teeth clacking against themselves and lightning flashed, lighting up the market area. Vendors were quickly closing up their shops, trying to get out of the inclement weather. No one worried themselves with who the guards were escorting...Save for one. Rhys met her eyes for the briefest of moments, before quickly bringing her gaze to her soaked shoes, cheeks warming with shame.
In a flash, Rhys found herself on the ground the left side of her face hot and sticky, mind foggy. Shouting entered her ringing ears, though it sounded muddled before clearing up all at once. Some of the guards held the woman back, while one helped Rhys off the ground. Her legs shook and the taste in her mouth was metallic, but the guard continued to hold her. And she could have sworn that he asked if she was alright, but Rhys could only focus on the woman who had struck her.
Her auburn hair clung to her delicate features, eyebrows drawn down to match the snarl on her face. Angry brown eyes glowered at her, almost as if she were trying to burn her alive just by thinking it. Ysolda knew...
"You little b*tch! I hope you burn! My blood will boil every time I see you!"
Rhys turned her head away, letting the guard who helped her, guide her up to Dragonsreach while the others kept the screaming Ysolda at bay. As they continued up the cobbled stairway, the woman did her best to wipe her mouth, sleeve soaking with blood. Her left brow burned and screamed in agony from the assault. However, Rhys knew she deserved it and now, there would be nowhere left to run. No place to hide as the guard opened the large doors before them, almost as if sealing her fate.
As they entered the foyer, Rhys felt the vaulted ceilings loom over her, making her feel small. Braziers were lit on either side of the prominent staircase, leading up to the Jarl's throne. In all her time in Whiterun over the last few years, she had never actually been inside of Dragonsreach and at any other time, she would have loved to look over all the detailing and architecture. However, as she and her escort continued, each step felt heavier and heavier as if someone were pressing down on her.
Her eyes saw the Jarl sitting upon his throne through the flames of the pit, the heat causing her breath to catch in her throat. A large dragon head sat up above him, daring all who would approach to consider their words carefully, lest they wish to be dealt a swift and an unjust judgment. Rhys's feet held fast like cement, not longing to move around the fire pit to sit at the bottom of the dais. Tears of fear filled her eyes as she barely suppressed a sob, soon feeling her escort and another guard taking her by the elbows and forcing her to move forward. The strong hands guided her up the small staircase, letting go as they reached the dais. Rhys found that her legs were like jelly and she knelt ungracefully, hands barely catching her as she collapsed.
The Jarl's stony gaze now fell upon the girl who knelt on the ground. Her hands struggled to hold her up and the shaking and shivering didn't go unnoticed. For a while, the man merely studied the woman taking note of her haggard appearance, dark circles of unrest under her eyes. Dark hair clung to her face, clothes sticking to her wiry frame from the rain. Rivulets of tears fell down her cheeks, chin trembling.
"Forgive us the intrusion Jarl Balgruuf, but an Imperial soldier has brought us-" He raised a hand, the other resting delicately on the arm of his throne.
"I know very well who has been returned to Whiterun. I would say we welcome you home Rhys Dahlgren, but then again," He paused, straightening in his chair, fingers lacing together. "Someone who has committed an act of murder and fled isn't someone to be readily welcomed home with open arms."
"Jarl Balgruuf, you can't be serious!" Scraggly tones entered the air, frustration, and anger clear in the man's voice. "She is the murderer of Mikael the Bard! A murderer! She deserves to be put straight to the block! Not be considered for any type of welcoming at all!"
"Are you so want to deal out death and judgment on all those you don't deem worthy?" A dulcet tone entered the air, warm and honey-like.
"Hrongar, Proventus." The men became silent, the air thick with unspoken words and hidden thoughts. Rhys met the Jarl's eyes briefly, only to place her gaze back onto the wooden slats that made up the floor. His bright blue eyes felt as though they were reading every thought she was having, every emotion she felt, every secret. "Miss Dahlgren, how do you plead?"
"Guilty, my Jarl. I know I-" Her hands shook and every breath hitched in her chest. The heat from the pit felt as though she were in hellfire.
"There you have it then." Jarl Balgruuf turned his gaze to the man at his right and he all but shriveled.
"Proventus Avenicci, go and find Farengar. I suspect her injuries go far deeper than expected."
"Yes, my Jarl. I -"
"And I expect no more outbursts. You are here to advise as my Steward, not sway using your personal biases. Like all brought before me, they are to make their case." The man only nodded, making his way out of the room. Rhys took notice of the silent Elven woman off in the shadows keeping an eye on the whole exchange. The coolness at which she observed everything and everyone caused goosebumps to prickle the woman's arms.
"Miss Dahlgren," Her gaze drew back to Jarl Balgruff, a few tears still falling. "Your crime is inexcusable though I am surprised to hear you confess. Most would try to pawn it off on another, rather than face whatever punishment is laid out for them."
Rhys watched as the man stood, going over to the man named Hrongar and whispering something. The man nodded and hastily took his leave down a dark hallway. All that remained in the hall were a few patrolling guards, the Elven woman in the shadows, and Jarl Balgruff himself. She watched as he now made his way down the stairs towards her and Rhys once again drew her gaze down, staring at her hands. They were worn and violently red, nails were bitten down to the quick from nerves in the days prior.
A hand reached out, her eyes taking it into account knowing deep down it belonged to the Jarl himself. Her stomach flipped, fear still running rampant causing the chills she felt to worsen. Tears fell onto her still wet clothes as one of her shaky hands eventually reached out to take his.
His grip was strong and calloused, almost as if she would be able to leave all her cares with him and return to her quiet life. As she stood, a pain racked her side and she felt the Jarl put his free hand under her right arm to keep her steady.
"You will be given healing sessions and then taken to the dungeon. Most people in the town are complacent, given the continuous allegations against Mikael himself...Though some feel some form of punishment must be given." Rhys allowed Jarl Balgruuf to guide her off to the left to a room, featuring a long table, an enchanter, and an alchemy table. Once they were behind a set of screens, Rhys felt the Jarl's warm hold leave her as he helped to sit on the cot in the partitioned room.
"My Jarl-" Rhys swallowed hard. "Am I to...to...die?" The look on his face was unreadable, almost as if he hadn't come up with a decision just yet. Though the girl knew she had no right to ask such a thing, not when she had taken the life of someone else.
"It remains to be seen, Miss Dahlgren."
"Jarl Balgruuf, you called for me?" A man in dark robes appeared, a soft voice befitting of his features of what Rhys could see. The Jarl promptly turned around and greeted the man with a small smile.
"Yes, Farengar. See to it that Miss Dahlgren is put through healing sessions during her...stay... here." The man nodded.
"I'll see to it my Jarl."
Jarl Balgruuf soon took his leave, Rhys finding she wished he would return. His presence, though intimidating, was calming despite the circumstances. However, her musings were interrupted before they could continue.
"I can't guarantee these sessions will be painless, but I have a delicate hand. I daresay," He took notice of the lump on her head. Something about it made Farengar's heartache, knowing it must be painful. "May I?"
Rhys only nodded, knowing that he needed to properly inspect the wounds she had. Although, when he touched the lump on her head, her body jumped from the pain and a few sobs left her lips. The once slowed tears fell heavy again as Farengar's fingers gently probed the top of her head.
"Why don't we start with that and that way, you might be able to get a peaceful sleep hmm?"
"Do we have to?" She looked him in the eye, her own glazed over with tears and lack of sleep.
"I suppose not. We'll start with something small then. Give me a moment and then we'll get started."
While it would be nice to feel some relief, Rhys knew she would feel none until a verdict was reached with what was to happen to her. Honestly, whatever the Jarl chose, she would just have to make her peace with it. She had told Lokir that he didn't know what she was capable of, though now it seemed Rhys didn't even know herself.
After the healing session with Farengar, everything seemed to pass by in a sleep-deprived blur. The man by the name of Hrongar came by, escorting Rhys to some sort of washroom, a steaming tub in the middle of it. Before she could protest, the door shut and locked the woman in. She supposed it was now or never, but she was just so tired.
Meandering over to the washtub, Rhys's eyes caught a small pile of new linen clothes and undergarments. Her hands reached out to touch them, the soft fabric soothing some of her woes. She also found a washcloth, towel, and a fresh bar of lye soap.
When Rhys finally got herself into the washtub, her muscles screamed, sore from all the travel. At least the healing session had taken away a lot of the pains in her feet and the stinging on her face, though the bruising would have to heal on its own. There was only so much restoration magic could do, whether you were a novice or a master.
Washing her hair had been no easy feat as it caused throbbing pain from the lump on her skull, but Rhys did her best to manage through misted eyes. The young woman had to admit that getting the layer of dirt off her skin and hair made her feel lighter, more than she had felt in days.
KNOCK. KNOCK.
"Hurry up in there." Hrongar called out but did not enter. Rhys sighed as she hurriedly finished washing up, soon doing her best to dry off before slipping on the new clothes and the shoes she had been wearing. Her hair soaked the back of the shirt, stopping underneath her shoulder blades. Scooping up the dirty clothes, she made her way to the door, giving it a soft tap.
It opened and the man found himself staring at the woman before him, holding the dirty bundle. Her face seemed more welcoming now that it wasn't covered in dirt or blood, though the bruising and road rash kept some of her features dark, and her left brow was still slightly swollen.
"Just leave those here. Follow me." Rhys nodded tossing the clothes onto the floor before following Hrongar as he led her back the way they came and into the main hall.
He continued in silence on their way to a staircase leading downward before coming to a door. She was unsure of how much time had passed inside Dragonsreach, but what struck her funny is how kind the Jarl had been since she arrived. Rhys had accepted her fate and yet she kept getting hit with surprises. After all, she had murdered someone and here she was given a healing session, time to wash, and a chance to speak.
"...Sir, may I ask something?" She kept her gaze down, her voice timid in nature as they walked through. Hrongar said nothing as he led her to a cell in the middle, a guard already waiting. Once she stepped in, arms hugging her middle feeling a tightness in her chest as the iron-barred door squeaked and complained as it closed. The guard used his key, locking the door so there would be no escape.
"What is it?"
"Why am I being treated this way?" She watched as his eyebrow raised slightly before she realized how it sounded. "I mean, why have I been shown such kindness?" Hrongar felt his face soften slightly, seeing fear, sadness, and confusion roll over her almost all at once.
"My brother feels no matter what a person has done, they deserve some bit of mercy. Something peaceful for their time here. Or before they pass on..." He watched as the woman nodded, accepting his answer. Hrongar couldn't help but watch as she went over to the cot and laid down, her back facing the door, himself, and the nearby guard.
Something felt off...There was something almost, hidden about this Rhys Dahlgren, and Hrongar could quite put his finger on it, but it was no matter. His brother was the Jarl and had the final say in things. And with that, the man left the dungeon, leaving Rhys and the other prisoners with their thoughts.
Rhys tossed and turned on the prison cot, the animal skin blanket too warm and itchy in her fitful sleep. Nightmares carried her away, showing her things that had long since faded from time, before bringing her to a different time altogether. The present or future, she did not know...
4E 176, Markarth...
"Mother? Mother where are you?" A young Rhys walked around searching her home, the smooth stone, cold and causing her feet to cramp up. Her home was dim, candles having burned all evening, barely any wax or wick left. The air felt cold in her lungs as she made her way through each room, finally stopping at her mother's door.
It was cracked open, vases shattered on the floor and blankets tossed around, a candelabra with blood on it. The five-year-old crept into her mother's room, taking in the destruction, her feet walking on papers and books. Soon on the left side of the canopied bed, her amber eyes fell upon the still figure lying on the floor.
Her skin was porcelain white, hazel eyes lifeless, and her mouth was slightly agape. The light blue gown she wore was torn from a struggle. One of her fists was clenched shut, tightly holding onto a piece of paper as if it were the most important thing on Nirn.
"Mother," The little girl made her way over to her, her small hands doing all she could to shake her. "Mother wake up! Wake up!"
However, her mother never moved and Rhys put her face into her mother's shoulder and cried. Tears slicked her round cheeks as she held onto her mother for dear life, not longing to let go. She wasn't sure why anyone would want to kill her. All her mommy ever did was help people and take care of her. Why would they want to hurt her?
Rhys sat up and through her tears, struggled to get the paper out of her mother's hand. When she did, the familiar and delicate writing appeared. Looping and slants formed Rhys's name, but before the little girl could read it, the paper seemed to burst into flames.
Soon, a much older Rhys felt herself get swallowed by choking darkness, direction all but meaningless until off in the distance, the sun began to rise. She found herself soon able to stand, almost drawn towards it as if in a trance. Though something now appeared in the sky, flames shooting onto the familiar town of Helgen before it came her way. Great black wings seemed to swallow the blue sky whole as the creature's vision locked onto her, eyes beaming a bright crimson.
It roared displaying its mouth full of teeth and saliva, words falling from its lips.
"Zu'u fen siiv hi! Ahrk zu'u fen drun hi aus! Pah fen oblaan!"
As it came to swallow her and send her to Oblivion, somehow Rhys knew what it had said. That the great dragon somehow was singling her out.
"I will find you! And I will make you suffer! All will die!"
Thanks for reading and reviewing! ^^
Hopefully I did the Dovahzul language right. I used a translator on Thuum . org and did the best I could.^^