A/N: A very big thank you to anyone who has read my story so far. It's greatly appreciated and I would love to hear from you! I'd especially like to give an even bigger thank you to Gotham's Prophet for their kind reviews and encouragement. I've been struggling to write for so long and I finally feel like I'm moving on. If you've not done so, please take a look at their story The Devil You Know! It's incredibly well written with wonderful characters and I can't wait to see what happens next!
Bright drops of crimson blood fell on the fresh snow leaving a trail behind Alessia as she struggled onwards. Her jagged breaths plumed and misted in the freezing air and her teeth chattered miserably. Between the healing spell she'd used and the tourniquet she'd applied to her right leg Alessia had temporarily staunched the flow from the gash the sabre cat had given her. She wasn't fooling herself though. Her use of magic and healing arts were rudimentary at best and she knew that her chances of surviving were slim if didn't find help soon.
It had been so long since she'd earnestly prayed to the Nine, but considering how dire her situation was, she felt it probably wasn't a bad idea.
"F-father Akatosh... be my strength... when mine fails," she muttered under her breath and limped on.
After having insulted Ulfric, Alessia had decided that it would be best to leave Windhelm immediately, blizzard or no. His warning to her to hope that they never crossed paths again was a fairly stark one. She was in no doubt that should they ever meet, he wouldn't hesitate on making her regret it.
Instead of risking that encounter happening sooner than she cared for it to, she had quickly purchased some supplies to restock, took her horse from the stables, and headed back into the wilds of Skyrim. Nearly all of them questioned her sanity to go out with such a fearsome storm blowing. That had given her pause and she momentarily considered heading straight back to the safety of Whiterun, but when she thought about what awaited her, the idea really didn't seem that palatable.
"Arkay... h-help me to accept the number of days you have granted me."
After she had helped defeat the dragon at Whiterun's western watchtower, rumour and speculation about her being the Dovahkiin was rife. Everywhere she went in town she could feel people staring at her and heard their whispering. It even had started to happen when she was amongst the Companions, which seemed to sour Vilkas' attitude towards her even further. She wanted nothing more than to shout at them that she was not the Dragonborn and that whatever had happened that night surely had a reasonable explanation, although she was unable to offer one.
Then, as if to make matters worse, there were the thundering voices that shook the very ground calling, "DOVAHKIIN!"
Upon hearing the events of the evening, Jarl Balgruuf had pressed her to visit the Greybeards at High Hrothgar, saying that if they were calling for her, then it was urgent indeed. She simply argued that if they had wanted her, they should have shouted, "ALESSIA!" and that whoever this Dovahkiin was, it was certainly not her. The Jarl gave her a disappointed look, handed her a boon for helping deal with the dragon and sent her on her way.
"Dibella... let me see your beauty... all around me."
Deciding that she couldn't quite face the stares and rumours again, she had stayed out in the wilderness for a while to try and clear her head, consider things and decide upon a new course of action.
Soldiering had been the only thing she had known and was good at, but she had ruined her chances of joining the Stormcloaks, so that avenue was now closed to her. If she weren't already wanted by the Legion, she would happily return to them, but chances were they'd just summarily execute her. That left her with mercenary work, which seemed to be in abundance in Skyrim. In fact, if she weren't so busy running from what she feared in her heart of hearts to be true, she'd return to Whiterun and properly join the Companions. At the very least the Companions seemed to have a sense of honour to them or at least were good at putting up a front.
Of course, she could always take a ship to High Rock and escape Skyrim altogether, but passage would be expensive and she barely had two Septims to rub together at the moment. And as much as she would love to, returning to Cyrodiil was certainly out of the question. Even if she could, there was nothing for her to go home to now. For the time being, it seemed that Alessia was stuck in Skyrim and she just had to accept it and make the best of it.
The realization that she may never see Cyrodiil again made homesickness settle in her chest, weighing her down even more. As an Imperial soldier she'd spent a large part of her life away from home, so it wasn't a feeling she was unfamiliar with. Right now though, she'd give anything to go back in time so she could be in the foothills of the Jeralls, tucked up safely in her aunt's home.
Tears blurred Alessia's vision at the thought and in a broken voice she said, "Mara... preserve the peace and security of home and family."
It had been nearly a fortnight since Alessia left Windhelm now and in that time she had relied upon the survival training she'd received from the Legion. She'd been drifting from place to place, avoiding large settlements and remaining solitary, but it had started to wear on her. And while Alessia had been used to living rough, even she occasionally liked to have a warm bath, hot meal and a soft bed. Eventually the idea of the creature comforts of civilization proved too much of a draw to her and she'd turned her horse in the direction of Whiterun late one afternoon. It seemed, however, that almost as soon as she decided to head back, things started to take a turn for the worse.
Alessia was not terribly familiar with Skyrim's sometimes fickle weather. While the initial storm that had hit Windhelm released its grip three days later, she'd been ignorant to the fact that this was just the precursor to something far worse. Seemingly out of nowhere, the wind blew in a gale from the north bringing with it heavy, unrelenting snow.
Even with all her layers of leather and fur, Alessia knew she had to find shelter as she could feel her strength being sapped the longer she was out in the storm. Eventually, she set up her small tent in the cleft of a rocky outcropping although it was far from ideal, but she reminded herself that it would be better than freezing to death.
In spite of the biting cold and wind, Alessia foraged for wood until she'd been able to make a fire. Her stiff, numb fingers worked with kindling and flint to defy the elements. At first there was a thin trail of smoke and with gentle coaxing, it wasn't long before Alessia had a decent fire. Not that it really helped much. The fearsome wind seemed to just tear away any warmth that the fire might provide, making the flames gutter and threatened to put it out altogether.
In fact, the fire had eventually been her downfall.
Desperately tired, Alessia had accidentally drifted off to sleep. Without her constant supervision, the wind finally prevailed and claimed her fire. Now with the fire out, the sabre cat that had been lurking around the edges of her camp grew bold and attacked, frightening her horse and sending it careening off into the woods. The horse's terrified whinnies had been what made Alessia snap to, but the cold had robbed her of any sense or agility. By the time she'd managed to grasp her sword, it was too late. The cat had lashed out, its razor sharp claws tearing her thigh to ribbons and knocking Alessia into the snow.
After a life and death struggle, Alessia managed to kick out at the sabre cat, throwing it back far enough to give her the chance to ready her weapon. No sooner had she got it into position than the cat leapt for her again, letting out a bloodcurdling roar. In its rage and desire for a fresh kill, it managed to impale itself on her sword. Mustering all the strength she could, Alessia heaved upwards, plunging the sword deep into the sabre cat's heart. Blood flowed freely, covering the Imperial and the sabre cat weakly lunged for Alessia's face a few times before it finally succumbed and became a dead weight on top of her.
Breathless and trembling with adrenaline and fear, Alessia remained where she was for a while if for no other reason than the cat was warm, but knew she had no choice but to move. With few mighty heaves, she'd rolled the body off to the side and freed herself only to realize the extent of her injury.
The sabre cat's claws had gone deep, easily slicing through the heavy leather of her trousers and mangling flesh and muscle. Her blood welled in the gaping wound before spilling over. At first Alessia was shocked at what she saw and stared at it dumbly, but then panic had started to set in. She was miles from the nearest settlement and the horse had disappeared into the woods with most of her things, including her healing supplies.
Swearing at her misfortune, Alessia pulled her sword from the dead sabre cat and cut strips of cloth from her tent that she wrapped and tied around her leg. Using a small stick, she twisted the tourniquet tighter and tighter until the blood slowed to a trickle. Taking a few slow, deep breaths, Alessia tried to calm herself so she could hastily cast a healing spell, although it did little more than make it look less ragged around the edges than it did before.
That had been an hour ago now and between the mental confusion caused by cold and blood loss and the driving snow, Alessia was hopelessly lost in the forest. Occasionally she would stop and call out for help, but her voice only sounded weak and muffled. Besides, she knew that with her luck it would probably only draw the attention of bandits or other wild animals that would love to kill her and pick her bones clean.
"S-stendarr," Alessia began a prayer to the patron of the Legion, but tripped over some tree roots hidden beneath the snow and fell face first into a drift. Panting and exhausted, she curled up into a ball and cried. It was so tempting just to give up, to just lay here and let the cold finish her off. She had heard that dying from hypothermia actually wasn't that bad and that in the end it ironically felt like slipping into a warm bath.
But Alessia had never been a quitter and wasn't about to start now.
A small voice somewhere in the back of her mind whispered to her, urging her forward and gradually Alessia got onto her hands and knees and crawled on in fits and starts.
Gritting her teeth, she cried out, "Talos, guide me! Show me my path!"
No sooner had the words left her mouth than the wind died down and everything grew eerily quiet and still, the only thing that could be heard was Alessia's ragged breathing. For a moment Alessia held on to the vain hope that perhaps Talos was about to answer her prayer in some awesome and dramatic way and pulled herself onto her feet, holding on for dear life to the nearest pine tree. Minutes passed and Alessia's expectations continued to rise until gradually the wind changed directions. It continued to pick up speed until it was back to howling through the branches and blowing in her face.
Disheartened, Alessia sagged against the tree, sliding down into the snow. She was alone and abandoned in this place and here she would die.
Or so she thought until she heard what sounded like the clash of swords in the distance, carried to her on the wind.
Squinting against the snow and wind, Alessia's eyes watered and tears froze on her cheeks. Just ahead of her she was certain that she'd seen dark shapes moving about in the snowy haze. Then she caught the sharp smell of smoke, beckoning to her with the promise of warmth, of life.
"H-hello?" she called, but the wind tore her words away.
Clinging to a glimmer of hope that she hadn't been imagining things, Alessia fought against the weariness and agony she felt and battled through the snow. Every step took a supreme amount of effort on her part, but still she carried on. With every step, the sounds of metal on metal grew louder, the smell of smoke grew stronger and now carried the scent of roasting meat, and the vague shapes were definitely people.
Afraid that she might be stumbling into a bandit camp, Alessia drew her sword, but with all her strength gone she merely dragged it along beside her. Stumbling along through the trees, she suddenly found herself in a clearing where a group of Stormcloak soldiers were training. Her unannounced appearance had initially startled them and they stopped to stare at her, but the shock wore off quickly and all of them stood at the ready, waiting for whatever this strange, bloodstained woman might do.
Lost for words, Alessia shuffled forward and the Stormcloaks advanced menacingly.
"STOP!" someone shouted in the distance and started running in Alessia's direction. "For the love of Talos, stop! Stand down!"
The Stormcloaks looked at each other questioningly but eventually lowered their swords. However they still closed ranks, blocking Alessia's path and their tense stances made it clear that they wouldn't hesitate to act if need be.
"Do you think that's a good idea, Ralof?" one of the soldiers asked, nervously eyeing Alessia. "What if it's a trap?"
"Don't be so ridiculous," Ralof sneered and pushed past. "Are you so afraid of a single, injured woman, Harald?"
Alessia, feeling the last of her strength drain away, dropped her sword. Her knees buckled, but before she found herself face down in the snow again, she was caught by Ralof.
"Whoa, sister," he said and propped her up. "You look far worse than when we left Helgen!"
There was a hushed murmur between the Stormcloaks; all of them had heard about what had happened there and about Ralof's close call.
The deathly pallor of Alessia's skin and the blank look she gave him concerned Ralof, but suddenly there was recognition followed by a thin smile.
"Ralof..." she whispered and heavily leaned against him, her head lolling onto her chest.
"That's right," he said, a worried frown settling over his features. Quickly he scooped her up and made his way to the healer's tent, shoving his way through the others.
"How about we get that leg taken care of, hey?" he asked her, but there was no reply.
Alessia had finally given out.