Last time, our unusual group narrowly escaped the fiery conflagration known as Helgen, and are now on their way to meet up with Hadvar's closest family, Uncle Alvor. Enjoy!
Elder Scrolls belongs to Bethesda. We own our characters: Shealyne, Arlen, Olana, Thearis, Anya, and Anya's kid.
"It's all right, at least we're all together now...I suppose we should go to Riverwood: the closest town. My uncle is the blacksmith there. He can help us. Or if you want to split up, that's fine by me." Hadvar replied, beginning to walk down the path towards his hometown.
Shealyne looked around for a bit before slowly following, wishing to distance herself as far away from the threats as possible.
Arlen and Olana looked at each other before Arlen rose to his feet, the pair choosing to follow the young Nord down the river road.
"Ahh, Riverwood? Do we have to? My ex-wife is from there. Told me to go get her stupid 'family artifact' and I was like 'Hell no.' Left her right there." Arlen broke up the silence, trying to pass the time.
After several minutes of walking the group began to see the forested town of Riverwood, the small village bustling with hard-working folk, a blacksmith hammering away.
Hadvar had approached the older man, tired yet relieved, "Hello, Uncle!"
The older Nord paused, looking towards the direction of the voice, his eyes widening in shock, "Hadvar? What are you doin' here, boy? Are you on leave from the Legion?"
"No, Uncle. Something has happened...but I can't talk about it here. Inside would be better." Hadvar replied, the blacksmith then looking upon his odd, odd group of friends.
"...Hadvar...who are all these people? I hope you ain't plannin' on giving them any of our mead."
"Uhh...no, Uncle. These are my friends. Everyone, this is Alvor, the blacksmith of Riverwood, Uncle, this is Arlen, Shealyne, and Olana." Hadvar gestured to each person respectably. None even bothers to smile.
"Hmmp...cheery bunch you have here...well, come inside then, though we might not have enough room for you all. And Sigrid may have to make more food." The older man muttered, leading the group into his peaceful dwelling.
After the group pushed themselves inside, Alvor sat down at the dinner table, the three companions standing awkwardly, unsure whether to sit down as Hadvar sighed, feeling at home and relaxing.
"Papa, who are these weirdos?" the little girl looked up from playing with her doll at the group, "Besides Hadvar I mean."
"Dorthe...they're friends of mine. Please be nice." Hadvar strained to be nice himself.
Sigrid had her back turned to tend to the stew, but turned to face the newcomers and her face lit up when she saw them, but not in a good way. "Hadvar? By the Eight-what are you doing here? We thought we'd have gotten rid of ya when your mum died. Signed you up for the Legion and ya still come back."
"You shouldn't talk ill of a boy nor his mother who risked her own life to birth him into the world. The way you act you seem as if you disrespect the memory of his mother by sending this boy off to his death." Shealyne hissed, her comment having struck a nerve, for she had bore sons, once. A long time ago….
"Please, Shealyne..don't get involved, just-" Hadvar tried to talk.
"I'm just being practical here. This house is not big enough for seven people; it's a single room. Unless some of ya want to sleep in the forge outside, there's no place for you all here!" Sigrid stayed firm.
"And I once lived in a cabin in the middle of nowhere in The Great Forest that pertained a single bedroom, a kitchen, and a tiny attic. In that damned shack I lived with my husband, my drunken brother in law, and our three children. We still had room, we made room." The Breton countered, obviously not happy as she crossed her arms.
"Sigrid…" Alvor trailed off as he looked at his wife.
"Just for a night, please. I mean, we're running from a dragon from Helgen for mead's sake." Arlen begged the older blonde woman.
Alvor straightened up, "A dragon? Ysmir's beard..." he met Sigrid's eyes, wide and fearful all of a sudden.
"W-What, Uncle Alvor?" Hadvar asked tentatively.
"Sven's crazy ma was talking about dragons just now, before you came. Nobody believed her, of course. A dragon, you say? Is it really true?" Alvor asked the group.
"Well, yeah, I got a pretty good view of it as I was about to get my head chopped off." Arlen said. "All of Helgen's burned by now."
"I..I don't want to know what you've done, or what kind of company you keep, Hadvar. But..if you are not lying, the Jarl needs to know of this at once! Riverwood is in danger!" Alvor stood up in a hurry, "Hadvar! Take your friends and go to Whiterun. Tell the Jarl of this dragon! Go!" and ushered Hadvar and the rest out of the home and onto the street of Riverwood. He and Sigrid stood on the porch watching them.
"I suppose we're going to Whiterun now.." Hadvar sighed, walking down the main street of Riverwood with the three in tow, waving to Alvor.
"Ugh, more walking. And to defend a hovel that nobody cares about." Arlen crossed his arms, walking with the group and glancing at the few chickens strutting about, passing a boy and his dog playing, and a man sitting on the porch of his house.
"Oh, you poor boy, you actually have to exert yourself for once!" Olana spat sarcastically.
"I get enough exercise with you, pup." rolled off Arlen's tongue. Olana glared at him, "Don't call me pup." Hadvar rolled his eyes.
"I don't get enough exercise..." Shealyne muttered. Though she didn't count running for her life as exercise.
"Hey, you guys, you're forgetting this is my hometown. I care about it. It may be humble and tiny, but I still care." Hadvar said calmly. "You all must have a place to call home...don't you?"
"Well, you know what happened to my home. Damn trolls leveled the place." Shealyne painfully thought back to her old shack in the Great Forest of Cyrodiil, where she spent so much time and yet it was destroyed in a matter of days.
"Streets of Riften. Played around with the Thieves' Guild a little when I was a boy." Arlen stared at the ground as he walked.
"I was once from Whiterun. It's no longer my home as I'm not wanted there. Now...it's wherever the road leads." Olana reminisced about the time she and her father lived happily in Whiterun with the Companions...and wondering why the hell she ever left.
With the closing sunlight, they had followed the river north, fought off a few unwise highwaymen, climbed rocky mountain paths, and it was then that they found themselves in the plains of Whiterun Hold. Olana looked ahead of the group, and across the quiet, farm-ridden plains spied the walled fortress and the mighty Dragonsreach all the way on top, its vigil shining and watching over the town and the fields. "Speaking of Whiterun."
They followed the stone walkway past the Honningbrew Meadery, which they had to pry Arlen away from going inside, to which he responded, "I'm going in there when we're done, just you wait."
"It's closed, Arlen...it's nighttime." Shealyne muttered. Arlen muttered even more softly, "...doesn't stop me…"
Nevertheless, the group made it to the gate of Whiterun, guarded by two soldiers.
"Halt, travelers. City's closed with rumors of a dragon about. Have you business in Whiterun?" one asked.
"We have business in informing the Jarl of Helgen's demise. The dragon was spotted near Riverwood, and the town is defenseless without the Jarl's aid." Shealyne replied, voice firm and urgent.
The guards shifted before one stepped forward, "Alright, alright. But only this once." With that, the man unlocked the doors and allowed them passage, the group stepping inside. The lower district of Whiterun surrounded them. It was mostly quiet due to the encroaching darkness of night, though some citizens still walked about.
"Why don't...you go ahead. I'm going to...try and "seduce" a guard..." Shealyne muttered, hungry as she walked off, looking for potential prey.
With that, the woman left her three companions. As Arlen watched, he also detached himself from the remaining group, "I want to check up on my sister before she settles in for the night. She's hanging around with those Companions, last time I knew."
"Companions? I'm going with you. I need to see them too." Olana followed Arlen up towards the ancient Companions mead hall, Jorrvaskr.
Hadvar sighed. They pinned the task of seeing the Jarl to him alone. This is what he got for having good intentions.
Pupils gleaming in the darkness, Shealyne walked through the dimly lit city, an occasional guard walking the street with a torch or simply standing, watching for any unusual activity. The bright light emitted from the torches had hurt the vampire's sensitive eyes, and the flickering flames filled her core with a sense of dread of perishing under hot fire. It also occurred to the red head that she did know the layout of this city well enough to navigate it during a chase, and the risk of being boxed in a corner by enraged guards did not sound pleasing to her.
Deciding to leave the guards well enough alone, Shealyne continued down the street towards what looked like a market district, several artisans' stalls abandoned for the night. As the Breton continued to wander through the district she came upon an alchemist's shop, which had caused the woman to pause in curiousity. The shop would no doubt have a wide range of supplies she could never acquire while back in Cyrodiil-and more importantly blood. Though with the moon high in the sky, Shealyne doubted the alchemy shop was open. Still, it did not deter the woman from approaching the door and pulling, finding the entrance as she expected: locked.
A guard was standing nearby, the man turning towards her upon seeing the woman attempted to enter the store, "Shops are locked up for the night. Best to come back in the morning."
"I see that now. Thank you." Shealyne replied, straightening herself as she sighed, looking for a place that may have good feeding opportunities. It was then that her eyes looked upon a tavern sign which had read 'The Bannered Mare'. At a loss on what to do, yet knowing opportunity may present itself if the woman would play her cards right, she went inside.
As Shealyne went inside, she saw several patrons at the bar, a Redguard woman, a Nordic bard singing and attempting to woo several woman, a staunch Nord female sitting alone in the back, clad in iron armor, and the esteemed owner of the The Bannered Mare.
Not wanting to be located anywhere near the roaring fire pit, Shealyne sat down in a shaded corner, a small candle burning at her table, the wax melting and flame slowly dying. Shealyne stared at the tiny candle for some time, pupils flickering in the dying glow as her red irises snapped to an approaching Redguard woman.
"Welcome to the Bannered Mare. I'm Saadia. Can I get you anything?"
"Just...give me a drink, please. Any kind will do." Shealyne replied, giving the woman the appropriate amount of gold to cover the drink.
"Very well...I'll be right back." Saadia nodded, returning several minutes later with an ale, to which she gently set upon the table, "Enjoy your drink."
"Thank you." Shealyne smiled slightly, the Redguard nodding once before walking away, leaving the woman by herself as she simply stared upon the mug of ale, not truly wishing to drink the contents.
Shealyne stared upon the mug, picking it up and tilting the cup, swishing the ale around inside, as if bored. Her eyes glanced around the tavern, a blonde haired bard singing his little heart out for several ladies, one looking unimpressed as she began to walk off.
Sighing, the Breton sniffed her mug, the alcoholic content burning her nostrils as she reeled back. Even by just smelling it she could tell it was strong. Everything within Skyrim seemed to be...she did not know how to describe it. True? Honest? Bare? It was certainly different from the Cyrodiilic Brandy mixed with honey she was used to. Oh, she wished she could have some right now...and have some flowers in a vase. She missed the smell of flowers. Skyrim smelled like mead, iron and sweat.
"Sithis take me..." Shealyne muttered softly, suddenly taking a swig of her ale, the drink so strong she could barely force herself to swallow it down as she gagged. She paused to regain her breath, the alcohol burning as she shook herself, taking another swig, the process much easier.
"Ohhh...damn it...just like sex." She muttered, once more swiveling the ale within her mug before trying to remember the last time she actually had sex. She paused, staring into her ale, yet for the life of her could not remember when.
'Hmmmm...it could not be that long...' She thought, trying to remember, but alas, could not. The woman had decided to simply drop the thought, for thinking on the matter made her feel rather old and dwell on a time that had forgotten about her, yet she had never forgotten it.
'Being a vampire sucks...figuratively and literally.' Shealyne thought, a bit bitterly before taking another swig. She may not have been a big fan of Nordic ale, but it was growing on her...slowly, but surely. Though she still wanted her Cyrodiilic Brandy with honey. Or some flowers to cover up the odd smells in the tavern. Maybe she could buy some in the morning? Once she found someone to suck dry, of course. Still, the opportunity had yet to present itself, and the woman was willing to wait.
As for Arlen and Olana, the second they passed through the great doors of Jorrvaskr, many pairs of eyes looked up at them from the dinner table. Hearty plates of mostly red meats had been picked apart, and mugs of mead lie almost empty. The Companions were seated around the long table centered by a bonfire, and they didn't look too happy at the interruption.
"No applications for membership today anymore. It's late, can't you see?" the bearded grey one in the center of the table tiredly asked.
"Kodlak, don't you recognize me?" Olana's vision passed from one face to another; many she recognized, but many were new. Everyone that she knew from before were there...except one.
Arlen also glanced at the faces in the glow of the bonfire, but none of them remotely looked like his little sister. At least the way he remembered her.
A ponytailed, one-eyed man stood up and spoke to Olana, "You're that whelp that left us, what, some ten years ago? Couldn't even listen to your father. Well, what are you doing here?!"
"Skjor, please. Handle this with civility." Skjor looked at Kodlak, then returned in his seat. Kodlak continued, "Olana, Thearis is not here. He's...on duty for the Legion, I believe."
"I know. I saw him at Helgen. During the dragon attack. I came here to see if he's back; he's still out there somewhere I guess." Olana looked away, almost disappointed.
"Yes, the dragon. We've heard news of it, and a few of us ventured to the base of the Throat to scout. Haven't returned yet." Kodlak took a swig from his tankard.
A youthful, bearded man pined, "They didn't even take me: Farkas, the best tracker in Jorrvaskr!"
Arlen perked up, "Wait, is my sister in this scout party? Her name is Anya."
The man next to Farkas (and looked quite similar to) spoke, "My mate?" he laughed, "No, she's in the back, feeding my son."
Olana almost scowled; this was the man she was to be with...Vilkas. Even her father approved of the match. Until that newblood Anya walked through the doors, wanting to be a Companion. Eventually she earned the love of the Inner Circle, and Vilkas, and received the blood of the werewolf.
"Son? My sister has a kid?!" Arlen almost stepped back in shock. He remembers her as a little pigtailed girl that only came up to his waist at the time he left Riften...which was also about ten years ago.
"Yes, I do, Arlen." the woman who was once a little pigtailed girl came out from the living quarters, a toddler hiding behind her leg. "What are you doing here? When did you get out of jail?" She looked quite similar to her brother, the same light brown hair and unexpectedly tall stature.
Olana turned to him, "You were in jail?!" and Arlen stuttered, "Uh-just for a little. Keep something from the Guild, and hey, you get arrested."
"Is this your new piece of meat, Arlie? She couldn't have my husband so she went after my brother." Anya smirked.
"Bitch, I didn't know he was related to you. If I did-"
"Take your fight outside, if you must!" Kodlak boomed, which earned looks from the rest of them; they weren't used to Kodlak raising his voice. "Just leave Jorrvaskr in peace."
"Come on." Olana grabbed Arlen's arm and stormed towards the door with him in tow, him saying, "Annie, we have to talk sometime, come to the Mare!" was all he could get out before Olana shut the door and they stood on Jorrvaskr's steps.
"Don't tell her to go to the goddamned Mare because we're going to the Mare." Olana started down the steps, and Arlen could do nothing but follow.
A few moments later, with the two opening the door to the Bannered Mare, Thearis makes his way through the square, towards that familiar scent. Even more familiar as his daughter had recently been here.
"Ugghh! That stupid, cocky, arrogant bitch! I did not end up with you so I could fantasize about her damned husband that I was supposed to be with!" She hissed, anger in her voice, "I'm not a damned piece of meat!"
"Well hey, it's not my fault my sister is your boyfriend's wife. Saadia, some of that strong Argonian ale, right here. ...Thanks, honey." Arlen downed a good gulp, then replied to the red-faced Olana, "At least you're not rancid meat, that would be nasty. You're a good piece of meat, believe me, babe."
"And how would you know? You ain't a wolf." She muttered, obviously still very, very angry.
"Just take a drink, and let it all go. We could even get a room for the night, if you know what I mean." he snorted and took another drink. It's almost empty already. "Another one, Saadia."
She rolled her eyes, "Sure, let's drink till I can't see straight and then you screw my brains out." She replied a bit sarcastically, yet grabbed a mug.
"Oh you love it, admit it." Arlen smirking when she took the mug, "That a girl."
Despite her anger, she found herself smiling as she took a sip, "Bastard." She then set the mug down, burping slightly, "Excuse me."
Arlen broke out laughing, "PFFFaaaahahahaha.."
"Sorry for performing a normal bodily function." She apologized, sarcasm lacing her voice, face flushing at his laughter. She was such a proper woman...
"THERE you guys are! I thought you'd never get here!" a familiar face came over to them, even with the dimness of the firelight.
"Ah, Shealyne, my girl. This is where you went." Arlen's mouth seemed to be stuck to his mug when he wasn't talking. "Was gonna send out a scout party soon."
The red headed woman nodded, "Yeah...lookin' for a fix. But then I hit the...ale. And...yeah." She faltered, stumbling just a wee bit, "I was drinking by myself for the...looongest time. Yeah. But then yous showed up. And now...meh, I ain't drinkin' alone anymore."
The bottom of Olana's mug finally went up and up until she sipped the last bit, and then let out a much larger belch than before. She didn't bother to say "excuse me" but rather, "another one".
"Your Pa must be soooo proud." Shealyne commented, "...why do I feel like we're missing somethin'? Or am I missin' something?"
"Skooma! Do you think they have skooma?!" Arlen beamed, "Aaaaalways a party with skooma.."
"No, you idiot! Hadvar-shit! Where is he, again?!" Olana wildly looked around, but with her vision starting to blur, she couldn't make him out from the bard.
"Umm...maybe we should ask where we misplaced our Hadvar? There...there can't be too many Hadvars out there, right?" Shealyne questioned, her sense of balance so terrible she was almost falling off the chair, "...Why is the room spinning?"
"...Who's Hadvar?" Arlen looked at them with complete seriousness.
"Arlen...did you rename your penis again? Change it to something that isn't as ugly sounding as Hadvar!" Olana whined.
"I think...that is a person...or something..." Shealyne blurted, swiftly bursting out in laughter, "I have no idea what I'm...what I'm saying..."
Suddenly, the door to the Bannered Mare opened, revealing the man they were...mostly speaking about. Hadvar looked around, spying the drunken trio in the corner and sighed with both relief and annoyance, "By the Eight! There you three are! I had to go to Dragonsreach and inform the Jarl by myself!" He scolded, approaching the group.
"Hey!...look, Arlen, it's your penis named Hadvar!" Olana pointed at what she thought was Hadvar, but was really a wooden beam. Hadvar looked upon the woman, disturbed, "...What?"
"Oh, hi! I found Hadvar!" Shealyne cried, though no sooner had she spoken those words did she fall off her seat and onto the floor in a heap.
"Good Gods..." Hadvar muttered, helping the woman up, "You three are a mess. All of you need to get some rest and sleep off the ale."
With that, Hadvar approached the owner and paid for renting two rooms for the night, and, hesitantly, for the ale they all drank.
He somehow dragged the three of them across the tavern, which was slowly losing people for the night, and carefully helped them up the stairs to the rooms. He determined they weren't so bad that they needed to be watched so they don't choke, so he let Arlen and Olana into one room, and he was left with Shealyne in his room next door.
He thought back to Cyrodiil, the kiss they shared in Shealyne's home, and wondered if it really meant anything. He wondered this now more than ever because circumstance says that they will sleep in the same bed tonight. We are on strictly friendly terms for now, he thought to himself.
The room was quite small, but cozy. Hadvar put his sword and shield on the floor, and removed his boots and his armor to reveal the clothes underneath. He glanced at what Shealyne was doing; the woman was facing away from the man, kneeling down to take off her boots before setting them against the wall-almost stumbling over- before setting her dagger on the end table. She then sniffed, an almost hesitant, pausing action before she slowly removed an outer layer of clothing, the durable wool layer giving way to a much softer undershirt. She then proceeded to fold her clothing, setting them down near her boots as she began to hum an almost anxious tune, nervous.
She was not nervous about undressing, no. What did unsettle the woman was the fact that she would be sharing a bed with a man. Not intimately, yet it was a simple action that she had become unaccustomed to over the years of living by herself. The more she thought about merely sharing a bed, however, the more she became perplexed. Were she two hundred years younger, she would never share the same room with a Nord. But now...this man was a Nord, yet he did not seem as bad as the others from her past. He was nice, friendly, noble, strong, handsome.
She paused at that, almost completely losing her balance as she twitched-almost violently so. Handsome? No, no, she did not just think that. He was a damned Nord! A Nord!
She frowned deeply, shifting uncomfortably, and were she still alive her heart would be racing. Did she find him handsome? Yes? No? She was not sure. But she was sure that he was a good man. A good man, yes. If a Nord. But a good, true man.
She then slowly turned around, steps shaky before climbing into the bed, not even bothering to get under the fur covers as she curled into a ball and hugged herself, confused, and blaming the alcohol for her own confusion. Damn. He smelled strange, good even. Damn, and he was still on the other side of the small room. Damn. Damn! Damn!
She groaned, trying to bury her own head and curl up even deeper into a ball, beginning to think of their kiss. Why did she kiss him? Was she happy to see him? Yes, yes she was. Did it mean anything?...No, no it didn't. But what if it did, and she just didn't realize it yet? Or what if she was fooling herself into thinking it meant nothing when it truly did? Or, or...perhaps it was just the mead. Yes, it was just the mead. And ale. Damn ale to Oblivion.
Arlen and Olana's bed creaking furiously in the next room over didn't help the awkwardness.
Shealyne now could not sleep, and instead stared wide eyed at the wall in front of her, face flushing, and wishing she were simply somewhere else. She wasn't sure how this night could get anymore awkward.
It was made more queer, however, as she felt the bed shift, a larger weight just opposite of she, Hadvar slowly climbing on the bed.
'Damn it!' Shealyne thought, trying to ignore the strong musk and block out the terribly noisy creaking of the bed in the next room. Well, at least it can't get any worse.
"Good night, Shealyne. Even though you probably won't remember this tomorrow..." Hadvar muttered.
"Of course I'll remember it!" Shealyne murmured, "How could I forget this? You're so...warm.." she trailed off, but was sure he heard it. Damn it. Why did he have to smell so damned intoxicating and feel so warm? Such a shame she was cold and, well, dead.
It may have been the ale coursing through her system, making her head fuzzy, but all the woman wanted to do was face the man and bury her head in his chest, inhale the odd scent and feel the immense warmth. But she could not do that, no. Part of her knew better.
Her mind swirled, trying to make sense of the strange impulses. This was not love, no. Nor any other emotional feeling of affection. But if not then why was it so strong? Why was it building up inside of her, threatening to spill forth in a rush? She did not know the answer, but she did know that she would not allow such foolish desires to plague her mind. It was not fair to Hadvar, nor was it fair to her. And it was her responsibility to keep not only herself, but Hadvar safe by completely resisting the desired actions her mind and body seemed to crave.
She buried her head into her pillow. It was foolish, yes. Love was foolish, and not meant for her kind. Yet if so, why did she keep trying if she was always hurt so? In the end, she would be forced to watch yet another man decay and die whilst she remain trapped in a time long gone, she led into madness and paranoia that soon the live heart she had fallen in love with would cease to beat.
'This is stupid,' She thought, 'Nothing can happen. Nothing will happen. It is just my imagination. He wouldn't find interest in a blood sucking corpse. Yeah, that's right. I'm just...fooling myself. No one in their right mind would want a vampire. I would only be a parasite and offer no benefit, not even children...why did I just think that? Oh well...all the more reason not to be a vampire. Or fall for one.'
With that, the woman closed her eyes for several seconds before reopening them, muttering, "Goodnight, Hadvar."
However, no sleep came to the woman, and the constant, rapid creaking of the bed in the next room over just did not seem to stop. Attempting to block out the noise, Shealyne once more receded within her mind, dwelling upon recent events.
After some moments of thinking, her eyes widened a bit at the man's words when he had wished her goodnight. Why would he mention her remembering this night? Did he want her to remember? Why? Did he sound...sad? Happy? Or just tired? She couldn't remember, and didn't want to focus upon the current subject, yet it had bothered her quite deeply. Remembering...why would he care?
She sighed softly, knowing only time would tell if his comment meant anything. Knowing herself, she was reading into the matter far too much. And had too much ale. From now on, she was sticking to her Cyrodiilic Brandy with honey.