Sweat dripped from her brow as she continued to run. Smoke plumed over the horizon and fire engulfed the surrounding flora in a merciless blaze, raising panic with every league crossed. "Ma! Pa!" her voice cried into the air as she continued to run as fast as her short legs could carry her. They had to be alive, there was no way a small fire like this could claim their lives! "Shor," she screamed, tears now caressing her cheeks as the bitter Windhelm air lapped her skin raw. "Ensure their safety! I beg of you!" The thin layer of snow turned to dirt as she made it to the road leading to the village… or what was left of it. She was too late. Houses now stood in a smoldering heap as roofs came crashing inwards, crushing whatever was under them.
This was not the most shocking of all scenes, though. The young Nord, even at eight years old, had seen her fair share of bandit raids or a frost troll who trailed down from the mountains. Nothing compared to the smell of burning flesh that currently assaulted her senses. A massive fire nearly shrouded in thick smoke was littered with bodies; all the villagers were used as kindling.
There was a tug from behind as she felt wet fingers entangle themselves within her hair, pulling her back until she slammed against a wall of muscle. The young Nord let out a scream as she no longer had a free range of movement, doing her best to yank herself from his grasp. "Let me go!" She sobbed as she writhed under his grip, but his only response was a sinister laugh as he jolted her forward. Her gaze was adverted to the ground and was met with resistance every time she tried to raise her head. "Where are you taking me?" She screamed, attempting to kick the man's feet out from under him or trip him, but the man balled his other hand and sent it flying across the girl's cheek.
"Stop squirming or I'll slice open your throat and bleed you like the swine you are," he threatened, his voice gravely and more than intimidating to a child. All the young Nord could do was whimper as she was drug along, feet kicking up dirt in small puffs as she went. There was no use in trying to fight back as it would meet in her untimely demise, or so the man stated… and she was not brave enough to test her luck.
The child was tossed forward, tumbling through a wooden door, and met a scorching heat as the wall adjacent to her was set ablaze with the aid of oil. "Aelin!" a voice cried out, the Nordic accent was thick and his voice hoarse from the smoke. The child responded to her name with hope as she saw her father just inside the house, though he was greatly outnumbered by that seemed to be bandits. They had their weapons drawn and aimed at the large man, but there was no active battle. Had she arrived at the right time?
"Father!" Aelin squeaked as a boot came crashing into the back of her head. Everything became a blur as she fell onto the floor face first, eyes clouded with tears from the pain as she attempted to say another prayer but she couldn't compile any cohesive thoughts. She vaguely heard her father screaming, but a woman's voice hushed him. It was her mother. She was alive! Aelin had been so fixated on seeing her father was in good health that she failed to look for her. Then, just as Aelin blinked to rid her eyes of the tears, a hand gently cradled her cheek. It was soft, nothing like the bandit that held onto her just moments ago.
"Don't worry, my child," a soft voice cooed as the woman kneeled over Aelin's body. "A few bandits won't separate us."
At that very moment, as Aelin moved her hands to push herself off the floor, warm liquid spilled all over her face and torso. The child feared to move as there was a distinct thud beside her and a cacophony of laughter filled the room. This was a nightmare. It had to be. Vaermina had control of her dreams and was showing her the worst possible… right? "Now that bitch is dead, what do we do with this sorry excuse for a Nord?" A boot found its place in the middle of Aelin's back, gentle at first but steadily the pressure increased until she was gasping for air.
"Do as you please. She's a runt and not very good with a sword. She's better off dead or a slave." A familiar husky voice sounded, causing the entire room to erupt with laughter once more.
Aelin's heart stopped. Fear found it's home in every corner of her being as she heard those words. "F-father?" her voice faltered as she attempted to look up. He was standing over her with his arms crossed over his chest and a wolfish grin plastered on his face.
"Don't play the innocent child now, little pup. You took everything away from me. You and that bitch." He growled the tail end of that sentence before spitting in the direction of her mother. "I think it's time we part ways. I hope your death is painless." With that, the man stepped over her mother's body and exited the burning building, a trail of bandits leaving behind him.
A cold blade pressed against her throat and a voice whispered in her ear, "Say hello to your mother for me."
Aelin jolted with panic as she looked around, tossing the furs from her body as she gasped for air. She frantically checked her surroundings only to find everything was exactly how she left them. A damp cave, shielding her from the rain, and a fire that had long since gone out. Her greatsword and bow laid untouched next to a rock that housed a half-eaten rabbit and a few empty bottles of mead. She grabbed her waterskin and poured its contents into her hand to rid her brow from sweat. Damned these nightmares. Why must they force her to relive the past?