Fredas, the 17th of Rain's Hand, Year 202 of the Fourth Era
Dear Segen,
Welcome to Ivarstead, my love! This pretty town is where your father's legacy began. They say he's among the greatest of all Skyrim's heroes. . . maybe as great as Ysgramor or Talos, but never as great as me. He's come into my thoughts a lot recently, your father. I realize now that I can't be selfish, for your sake. My brother, your Uncle Adjin, said as much today. We were walking along the little bridge to the Seven Thousand Steps (so I could say I at least made it to the first of them with you in my belly at sixteen weeks) and we were talking of him. I pretended you were kicking so that he would stop preaching at me about your father and how hard his life was and how broken he probably is. How bad I should feel for leaving. Adjin says I'm heartless, but he's wrong: I'm heartsick. I didn't just lose your Baba, Segen, your Baba lost you, and that was wrong of me. In five days, it will be Jester's Day, a holiday for tricks and pranks. I can't help but feel I played the biggest trick of all on myself. Can you ever forgive me, Segen?
All my love,
Mana