Chapter Five
I stand at the door and knock

There was a disturbance with the arrival of Belrand and Elaira. Perhaps not for the rest of the town, who cared little for gossip, but for me, this place which I called home for so long now was a home I had learned to make without her—without them. I wasn't the only one who felt the discomfort of their presence. For Lydia, it was an uneasiness found trying to accept this new husband; trying to accept this "new" Elaira. It was awkward for Balimund, who couldn't help but notice, and needed to remind himself of his place. He looked away and carried on with his business. For the red-haired man, it was secret glances that for once were not returned.

They felt it too. Mother tried to make herself at home, but she shifted uncomfortably under the judging glances she was surely receiving from the folk who in actuality didn't care. Belrand, who had an air of friendliness made many attempts to make friends. And sure, he was easygoing and laughed at everything, but the people of Riften were unlike him. Even the Nords who resided there could not make friends with this old man who was near desperate. Vulwulf Snow-Shod had old veins and old skin, and though his bones were strong as ever, his heart was faltering and the losses of war kept him trapped in a well of depression. Nord through and through, he could not laugh with Belrand who was a man who seemed never to have suffered a day in his long life.

Perhaps if things were different, Belrand could have made himself comfortable in this town of crooks and thieves and grey. If the water didn't run under the city, filled with pollution and blood, then maybe he could have found comfort fishing by the docks or staring at the sun setting behind the bay. Mayhaps if he didn't feel unease with the sound of the anvil, which was like a drum beat at the back of his head that he could not ignore, he would have walked around the market stalls bartering and buying. Maybe if he liked the expensive taste of Black-Briar mead and the way it fell down his throat like fiery silk, he would have frequented its bar, getting drunk and a false sense of happiness. But it was not this way. Belrand was a good man who could not help but look down at the misguided, a man who longed for colour and clouds and skies and rainbows. He loved the smell of fresh bread and swimming in clean lakes. In this life, this real, raw life, he had a wife who was lost to virtue and he would always live in debt of that. In this reality, he preferred the burn of ale and hard liquor to fancy mead. To Belrand, this man who was too old to change, silk was just an accessory, wealth was just a word and Riften would never be home.

Belrand was not made for Riften; he was not ready. And the city did not want him.

Neither did Maramal, it seemed. He had said nothing to me, but I knew he disapproved of Belrand. Whether it was because he and Mother were married away from Mara's 'loving gaze' or if it was because he was not the first, not even the second husband of Elaira the Thane, I was not sure. There was no bother in the approving of a man who meant nothing at all; not to Mara, not to Mother and not to me.

However, this man who meant nothing was not a bad man. He was kind. It was very easy to see, and no one would deny it. He was funny, and Runa liked him despite her efforts. It made me sad to think, but I knew that Balimund would have liked him. Onmund would have liked him. Hroar would have too. But I didn't. I didn't think I ever would.

Mostly, the pair just stayed at home, Mother only leaving to go to work. The same work she had been doing with the red-haired man only a year ago. She spoke little to me, mostly because I avoided home as much as possible. It seemed that I had quickly grown tired of the confined walls of Honeyside and of Riften, so Runa and I had taken to other means of wasting time.

Our days were spent outside the confines of Riften, at the docks or exploring the Rift. Directly outside the North gates of Riften were the stables, where I kept my two horses. The first, I had gotten when she was just a filly. Her coat was pure white and soft, and her eyes were red. An albino horse, I had learned she was. When I chose her I'd only seen how pretty she was. Perhaps she reminded me of a story Lydia used to read to me. Mayhaps it was just a dream. I had long ago named her Birdie.

The second horse had been Hroar's. His horse was smaller and fatter, but strong where Birdie was fast. This stallion was grey, with white speckled on his legs and around his muzzle. His mane and tail were dark black and swung pleasantly. Runa had taken to riding him. Bam Bam, she called him, because Hroar had left him unnamed for the year that he'd had him. I believed the name suited him. Hroar would have liked it.

The autumn-coloured valleys of the Rift stretched all the way to Ivaarstead and proved to be adventures within themselves. There were wolves and spiders and sabrecats which we were lucky to avoid. There was so much red and orange, and leaves littered the pathways like decorations. Trees covered the horizons and the sun glittered on the grass. It was beautiful, so beautiful that it took my breath away, and I would have to learn how to breathe again.

I didn't know why, but I always felt some strange sadness listening to the rustling of the leaves in the trees, or Birdie's hooves click against the stone pathways. There was a strange nostalgia in the discovery of these new places and I could not figure why. I knew someday I would miss it. Maybe I'd already begun to.

"We've already been here," Runa complained. We were sitting on the hard wood fence of Merryfair Farm as Synda collected the cabbages. She was a grey-skin with red eyes and what seemed like a permanent frown. Her hair was light red, bordering on faded orange and she had heavy bags under her eyes. She did not speak much as she worked, so we left her alone. So long as we did not interrupt her work, she let us stroll along her and her husband's farm freely.

"So? I like it," I said calmly. She had never complained before. She liked the view of the lake. It glittered in the evening sun and we could see the bottom of the shallow parts. It was quite the pretty sight. "You said you did too."

"Yeah, I do… the lake is real pretty and Bam Bam and Birdie like their rest, but Skyrim is such a big place. There has to be more to the Rift." She sighed, looking down at her dangling feet.

"Then where do you suggest we go? You know they don't like us at Heartwood Mill. Plus, the guards yelled at us when we asked for a tour of the forts. This is the best place… Plus we get to go swimming!"

"You hate swimming, first of all, and secondly, there's the entire rest of the Rift to explore." She smiled convincingly at me, though to no effect.

"You can go as far as you want, Runa, but I'm staying right here," I replied sharply. It wasn't often I said no, and normally I could be convinced, so Runa persisted.

"Lorie, Sarethi farm is only a few hours away on horse! C'mon, maybe we can help with the cows! Or the chickens! It might be fun… you love labour work!"

"I don't like labour work, Runa. I just like doing things…"

"Well, we're not doing much now are we?" she continued.

I gave a long dramatic sigh and jumped off the fence. Her pleads were annoying and frankly I wanted her to stop. "You're so annoying." Runa jumped off the fence and grinned, clapping her hands enthusiastically.

"So it worked!"

There was a soft humming when I approached the small garden. The plants were illuminating the night sky with their strange green glow.

"They're vibrating," Runa said, tying up Bam Bam to the fence. "Do you know what they are?"

Approaching the strange plants, I whispered, "Nirnroot."

Living on Sarethi farm were two sisters, Avrusa Sarethi, the oldest, and Aduri. By the time we had arrived at their small farm, it was nightfall, and we had been forced to send a note to Mother and Constance we would be staying with the sisters. Avrusa was not necessarily humble, but neither was she hostile. She had let us stay with them however, sharing their food, asking for nothing in return. She set up two cots on the floor for us to sleep in for the night, before she nearly collapsed onto her own bed. Aduri was kind as well, and she reminded me of someone I could not remember.

I awoke to the sounds of unfamiliar voices, and Runa fast asleep next to me.

"Aduri, how come the fields haven't been tilled like I asked?" Her voice was scolding and irritated. Through closed eyes, I imagined her scowl; the furrow of her brow.

"Because it's boring," replied the younger sister. "The fields are going to do fine... you don't have to dote over them so much."

"Boring? That food is paying for everything. If we lose even a single crop, we could starve or be forced to beg. I won't have it!" Desperation now. Desperation for her to understand maybe. Maybe just annoyance.

"All right, I understand. I'll do it tomorrow, okay? Just get off my back." I heard footsteps and the door closing behind them before I drifted slowly back to sleep.

"That's the most Nirnroot I've ever seen in just one place," I commented while Avrusa cooked us up some eggs.

"Actually, I'm growing it if you hadn't noticed. I'm the only person alive that can cultivate Nirnroot from a seed to a fully grown plant," she told us proudly. I nodded, tapping my fingers on the table.

"How?" Runa questioned, tilting her head slightly. "I mean if it's not common practice then how do you know how?" There was a moment of hesitance as Avrusa placed the eggs on several plates. Pork strips replaced the eggs on the fryer slate before she answered.

"I had quite the mentor. He taught me everything he knew about the Nirnroot and its strange properties. I haven't seen him in many years. I wonder what became of him... Anyway, He was an absolute genius when it came to the Nirnroot. He made it his life's work, developing all sorts of interesting concoctions," she paused, the ghost of a smile caressing her lips. "He was an alchemist of sorts."

"She's an alchemist too!" proclaimed Aduri, rather excitedly. "And I am a painter."

"I was an alchemist. There isn't much time for that in my life anymore I'm afraid. I actually owned a shop in Vivec City long ago, but I had to leave all that behind when the Red Mountain erupted. Perhaps someday I'll reopen a shop here in Skyrim."

"And perhaps someday, you will let me go to Solitude, so I can actually find someone who'll teach me." Aduri tapped her fingers playfully on the table, sporting a toothy grin. There was a flicker of youthful hope in her eyes.

"I was born there… in Solitude," I added, nervously glancing between the two sisters, afraid I might have interrupted an oncoming argument, but Aduri was still grinning; looking at me now.

"Is it beautiful? I hear it's beautiful…" Aduri sighed dreamily before looking down at her hands. Sadness fled across Avrusa's face, as she placed our plates in front of us. "Do tell me, it's my dream… but my old bat of a sister won't give me leave to head up there."

"I told you, Aduri, there's too much to do this year… maybe next year, after the harvest you can go. We're at a shortage of everything we need. We haven't seen Jazbay Grapes in months… you know how difficult this is," Avrusa pleaded tiredly. This conversation had happened before.

Aduri huffed, not looking up from her hands. They may have been shaking. I might have just imagined it.

"It's not going to be next year, nor the year after that! You just care about this farm more than you care about me!" Aduri cried, slamming her hands on the table, the plates shaking.

"Painting won't put food on this table, but our crops will. Be patient Aduri… it will happen someday, I promise." Aduri stood to her feet and left the room, and Avrusa did not follow. She knew her sister would be back.

"Are you angry?" I asked. I couldn't read her expression. Constance had been angry with Runa for leaving, but Elaira seemed calm enough, and I could not identify any signs that she was angry at all. Her face was not flushed, her eyes not livid. The line of her mouth was hard, the hard lines of her jaw sharp. Though she was not angry it seemed, she looked at me hard, drawling out an answer,

"I suppose I don't have the right." She held her gaze. I figured I should drop mine in shame, but I felt none. Neither did she it seemed. Neither of us apologized. I wouldn't. I was not sorry.

The 29th of Sun's Height marked the day Belrand tried to talk to me. For a friendly man it seemed he was uncomfortable with confrontation. He'd been holding out, I thought. Or maybe it was me, but the past month he had uttered only few words to me. I could not recall if I had ever said anything to him at all. It was late in the night, maybe three hours until midnight when he knocked on my door. It was hanging open. I did not feel the need for privacy, and I liked it. The closed door made me feel confined. No one came to the basement much anyway.

I had been digging through my chest, which was nearly full of junk I'd collected over the past six years. I was looking for my dolly. It would probably be missing limbs, and its painted eyes would be worn off, but I had only just remembered about it, and did not bother to fight the urge to dig it out.

When he knocked, I dropped whatever I'd been holding to look at him. His hair was tied back and he wore his grey night robe. He looked ridiculous in the expensive garb, but he wore a hopeful grin. Had mother put him up to this? I doubted it. Desperation was most likely the cause for his visit. I should have stood up to greet him, but I fought the curtesy. He had come to my room. "Hello there, Lorie," he said pensively, his accent thick.

"Loralei," I corrected him. He ignored me as he took a step into my bedroom. It was a mess I realized. I had not noticed the disaster I'd made in search of my dolly. I regretted the search. It would take at least an hour to clean up. I wondered if she had been worth it. Had even bothered to name her?

"It's quite a mess you've made in here," he observed. I resisted the scowl.

"I noticed," I retorted. I scoffed at him, my previous efforts in vain.

"Of course…" For a man who could talk for hours, he seemed not to know many words in that moment. For once I decided to cut the silence short. My patience was waning.

"Is there something you need?" I asked, assuring the curtness in my tone. It seemed to work as he was now cut from his reverie. He looked dumb when he was thinking. Maybe he wasn't thinking at all.

"Um… no, Lorie, I was just wondering if you wanted some tea? The stuff really helps a bloke sleep," he said, grinning to himself as if he's accomplished something.

"It's Loralei," I corrected once more.

"Huh?" he blinked.

"My name; my name is Loralei." I let out a breath as he scratched his head. "And no thank you. I've never liked tea." Letting his hand drop, he nodded.

"Goodnight, then." He shut the door behind him.

Belrand came again two nights later. I had cleaned the mess I made after I'd given up searching for my dolly. I must have thrown it out. This night I sat on my bed, reading a book. Immortal Blood it was called. It was strange, but informative and I was very interested. Evesa had given it to me when her father told her it was too inappropriate for her to read. She read it anyway, of course, but Maramal would never know.

He knocked three times before I looked up. That hopeful grin was still stuck on his face like a parasite. "What are you reading?"

"Immortal Blood," I told him, closing the book and setting it on the night stand next to me. I looked at him expectantly. The robe he wore was green. His hair was down. He was still wrinkled, bald and wide-mouthed.

"What's it about?" He took a step into my room, looking around cautiously, as if searching for any potential dangers. Some help he must've been to Mother; scared of a twelve-year-old girl's room.

"Vampires," I answered him. He nodded, but this time he didn't wait for silences.

"There's tea, if you'd like any."

"No thank you," I said, picking up my book once more.

"Goodnight, Lorie." He closed the door with a click.

He didn't come again the next night. Or the night after.

"Why do you need so many Jazbay grapes?" Lydia asked. I watched her carefully as she furrowed her brows.

"They're for a friend," I told her. "It's a long story. You know I don't ask for much," I pleaded, doing my best to imitate Runa's 'begging-for-things' eyes. Lydia sighed and shifted before answering,

"As the Lady commands; I am at your service." I giggled and thanked her quickly before she left to make the courier order.

Bam Bam whined as I fed Birdie an apple.

"Oh hush, you've eaten three already," Runa scolded. He whinnied loudly, receiving a glare from the girl. "You're an ogre, you are." I chuckled and gave the poor horse the last apple. He nuzzled me gently and I could have sworn he sent a nasty look at Runa. We finished tying the horses to a nearby tree and tracked up a little farther until we found it.

"So this is it," I sighed, looking up at it. The stone was tall, taller than me or Runa. Shaped strangely but symmetrically out of rock, it hosted strange, rune-like carvings.

"The Shadow Stone… it's a bit dramatic." Runa sighed, tilting her head to inspect it. "So… what does it do? Like what's its blessing?"

"Once a day, those under the sign of The Shadow can become invisible for an extended period," I recited, looking at it. It seemed like just a normal stone to me. Admittedly, I was disappointed by the anticlimax.

"You sound like you're reading from a textbook," Runa said, looking at me funny.

"I probably am. I learned that from Evesa." Runa nodded in understanding.

"She's way too smart… how old is she now?"

"Four… She'll be five this Last Seed."

"Wow… time flies." I nodded in agreement, my stomach growling softly in afternoon hunger. I wished I'd saved that last apple.

"Do you read a lot?" he asked me as I sat at the kitchen table, some forgettable book in my hands.

"I suppose I do," I answered, not taking my eyes away from the text in front of me. I had stopped reading five minutes ago, unable to concentrate.

"You don't get that from your mother," he laughed. It wasn't throaty, but baritone. To me, it sounded like squawking. When I didn't answer, he continued. "Though, she probably has dozens of copies of the Wolf Queen. Several of each volume! I tell you, that woman is completely obsessed with Potema." I looked up at the man then. He was startled by my apparent acknowledgment of him. He met my eyes worriedly. Flashes of words and memories raced from behind my eyes. I ignored the hitch in my throat as I tried to form words.

"When you were in Solitude with my mother," I began.

"Yes?" His brows furrowed, awaiting my continuation. He was so clueless. I almost felt pity.

"Did she visit the grave?" He thought for a moment, and hesitated. I suppose he thought his answer would matter.

"…No."

It was the seventeenth of Last Seed, 4E 207 when my mother came into my room. The door hung open lazily as I played around with my lute. There was a lack of rhythm and tune, but it felt nice to strum the tightly woven strings.

"Loralei," she greeted. I looked lazily up at her. It had been a while since we had spoken. Her red hair was plaited loosely and I couldn't see her freckles in the dim light my candles provided.

"Elaira," I returned. She seemed unfazed by the use of her first name. I didn't think she even noticed. I wondered when I'd become so pompous.

"We must speak." She did not seem nervous, but cool and confident. She knew she held the control. I tried not to resent it.

"Go on," I said, playing softly.

"Belrand and I have been speaking, and we have both agreed that what I do, here in Riften… we've agreed that it cannot continue… not when you are around." I bit my tongue. Of course it's my fault.

"I assure you mother, that whatever shenanigans you are up to, are irrelevant to me."

"You are being disrespectful, Loralei." I stopped strumming and set my instrument aside. I didn't believe she had the right to scold me, but I was still me, and despite my efforts to speak out, I wouldn't, because it was Hroar who asked questions, and Runa who had answers.

"Alright." Don't apologize, I reminded myself.

"I don't know what's been going on with you lately, but never have I heard this much mouth from you! I am sick of you prancing around this house like you own it." The flush, the freckles, the livid eyes. There it was: anger. But why is she really angry? "Belrand has been making an effort with you, and all you do is sass him. He does not deserve it. I don't deserve it." I said nothing. I waited, and watched as her face got redder, her freckles were darker and her eyes bright with crazy. I didn't believe she got to dictate what she didn't and did not deserve.

Don't apologize.

"What did you want to tell me?" I asked gently. I let her regain control. Just don't apologize.

"Riften isn't a healthy place for either one of us, my child," she continued, "all the things we've done…" All the things you've done, I corrected in my head. "…all the things that have happened. Who we've become; what I've become.

"I admit moving here wasn't my best decision. Raising you here was a mistake." You didn't raise me, I felt like saying. I didn't. "My work here as—as—as whatever has caused a lot of harm. It was driven from some sort of selfishness I suppose. But Belrand makes me want to do better. He wants the best for us—for this family. He wants us to be a family. I want us to be a family!"

But I'd had a family before. Several, actually; but was it worth having something, if you were always meant to lose it?

"Where will we go?" I asked. I returned the hard stare that she always seemed to irradiate. I swear hers had almost faltered. She let out a huff, and I almost rolled my eyes. How dramatic, Runa would have said. I didn't.

"Whiterun." She closed the door when she left. I closed my eyes before the room could smother me.

"So you're leaving," she said slowly. I could see the gears shifting from behind her eyes. They got like that when she was trying to understand something. Her processing time was never that fast. It wasn't that she was simpleminded; she was someone with too many thoughts at once. Her jumbled thoughts would make a mess of her brain, and she would need to sort them out. Perhaps that was why she was so thoughtless in her actions and her words; it was easier.

"Y-you're leaving," Runa repeated, louder this time, faster but apprehensive. I blinked hard and tried to swallow. My throat was dry.

"I'm leaving," I confirmed. It looked like she was melting before me and I couldn't try to catch her in my hands because she would leak through the cracks of my fingers. It was midnight now, and darkness shrouded the sky. The moon was out, lighting the world the best it could. We stood ten feet from the orphanage, ten feet from the nearest lamp post and I couldn't see her face anymore.

"When?" she asked me; regaining confidence in her voice. I hoped she would not cry. I hoped I would not cry.

"The beginning of Heart-Fire," I told her.

"Where?" she seemed angry now, I was not sure. I wouldn't put it past her to be angry at me for this for forever.

"Whiterun; mother has a house there called Breezehome."

"That's a dumb name," she said, making me giggle. She stepped towards me and embraced me. I thought she was smiling. "I'm going to miss you, Lorie. But I know that our paths will cross again."

It was me who cried this time.

Belrand brought me tea that night, the night when I told Runa. It was warm and tasted like leaves and honey. I felt my eyelids grow heavy and my body swoon in warmth. He left the door open.

"I assume you're going to work as Thane?" I asked, as we packed up the carriage.

"Well, that was the plan, but I've decided to work at the Inn instead. The owner, one of my old friends has passed and has left it to me and a young lady," she told me, throwing up my bags.

"What's Belrand going to do?"

"Arrangements have been made so Belrand can work as a huntsman for both the Drunken Huntsmen and the Bannered Mare." She climbed into the carriage and I followed. Lydia and Belrand had taken a separate carriage several days before.

"And me?"

"You can do whatever you please, I suppose. There are many opportunities in Whiterun; a lot of people. You'll make friends… I suppose you'll spend your days playing."

"I don't play anymore."

"Yes, well you know what I mean."

"Do you want to play a game?" she asked me. The sun was low in the sky, beginning to set early now that the summer was coming to a close. Her hair had been pulled back, and I could see the lines that began to etch into her skin. The sides of her mouth; the corner of her eyes.

"What kind of game?" I asked her, shifting in my seat.

"What games do you and Runa like to play?" She seemed sincere about it. I figured she was bored. So was I.

"She likes to play question games," I answered, looking out the window. I didn't know where we were, but I could see a tall mountain in the distance.

"Do you like those games?"

"I never thought about it," I admitted. It was true. Whether or not I'd liked the game had not been very relevant. But in the middle of the night, when Lydia would be fast asleep, and we would lay in my bed, she would whisper questions and I would whisper answers. They were questions and answers that did not and would not ever matter. I never told the whole truth anyway. Neither did she.

"Let's play anyway," Mother said, a thin smile creeping onto her face. "I'll start… Have you ever kissed a boy?" It was weak. She seemed a little desperate. Perhaps this was some strange sort of mother-daughter bonding, but it made me shift uncomfortably in my seat. Was it supposed to be weird: talking about boys with your mother? Was every daughter uncomfortable when their mothers pried? Or was it just me; was it just her?

"Yes," I said simply. Mother gaped, exclaiming,

"Who?!"

"It's my turn," I said quietly, my cheeks flushing.

"Fair enough," Mother said with a huff, awaiting my question. I wondered if she was scared. Scared that I would ask a question that would bare her soul, a question that would force her to confess all the things that she wished to keep from me.

"How did Onmund die?" She stiffened, I could see her gaze harden, her jaw tighten and her eye trying not to twitch.

"An arrow in the back."

"Did you kill him?" I inquired. She closed her eyes, as if trying her hardest to repress a memory that just wouldn't go away no matter how hard she tried.

"I couldn't see," she said through gritted teeth, her eyes still closed. I didn't want to know anymore. We stopped playing after that.

We were seven hours into our journey, and it had been four since mother and I had last spoken. I had tried not to think, attempting to dissolve any of my passing thoughts. Only the hooves and the wheels clattering against stone filled the silence. I had a headache, my pulse throbbing in my temples. And I wanted to close my eyes. But I kept them open, because I wanted to be awake, to be alive for this. Whatever this was. I wanted to carve these passing hours into my brain because however uneventful, however boring and repetitive this may seem, to me it had been something. Something I did not wish to forget. I did not want to be in Riften one day and then blink and be in a different city, a different life. I didn't want to close my eyes to the faces of Maramal and Dinya and Evesa and Balimund to have them be changed into unfamiliars when my eyes opened. But the silence was suffocating. The lack of communication, the lack of anything and I could not contain my thoughts.

I looked towards my mother and I wondered if she could see the desperation on my face; the desperation for communication, for memories, for sleep. She only looked at me, pensive. She sat across from me, and suddenly I wished to crawl into her lap. It was pathetic, I knew. I should not have been so easy to forget that I was not who I was six years ago, and she had not been for a while. But she leaned close to me, and took my hand in hers. Her hands were callused and rough, but they were warm and familiar. I wondered how it came to this. I wondered when it became weird to touch her. I wondered when it became a betrayal to myself to want to be cradled in my mother's arms. Could a year really do so much? Could six?

"I will miss Riften," she said, and there were tears on her face.

"Did you really want to leave?" I rasped, unable to remove my eyes from her eyes. They were like looking at my own. They were bright and old and scarred and scared.

"I'm so sorry, Loralei…" It seemed her words were stuck at the back of her throat, and she was struggling not to break down and ball and scream and plead.

"Why didn't you say you wanted to stay?" I felt the heat rush to my face and my ears. I felt the pressure behind my nose and in my throat. She withdrew her hand and wiped her tears, slowly sitting back in her seat. She looked outside, at the moon, before responding. Her eyes were dark and obstinate as she steadied her breath.

"I suppose I didn't have the right."

It took only twelve hours to arrive in Whiterun. It was three in the morning by the time we approached the guards; our baggage in our hands. They stood tall and I had trouble telling them apart. The two were around the same height with round chins and thick beards the colour of damp wood. Their eyes were hidden in the shadow of their helmets and I could not tell if they were menacing or kind.

"State your business," said the one on the right. His voice was gruff and loud.

"Really, that's none of your business," Mother retorted, tilting up her chin.

"It's near three in the morning and I'm tired. State your business, Lady. These are troubling times and we cannot let strangers into the city without hearing their appeal." Elaira sighed dropping her chin. She was tired too it seemed.

"I am Thane Elaira of Whiterun and Solitude. I sent my husband and Housecarl before us. We are moving into Breezehome." The guard nodded and opened up the gates to us. The wide, tall doors were made of wood and metal, groaning in the quiet of the night.

"Sorry to have troubled you Thane. Welcome back to Whiterun." Elaira turned back to the guards as I walked on.

"It is no issue. I am glad to see you are protecting our city."

"Gods be with you Thane. You and your family, you bring happiness and hope to us all." I heard the gates close with a moan as I dragged my feet forward. The city was shrouded in darkness, seldom any light to show the way.

Breezehome was not far into the city and I had been grateful for that. The large door of Breezehome opened up to a living/cooking room. Surrounding the large fire and cooking pot were benches and stools. It was all plain, the whole house made of wood and cheap accessories. The unadorned walls were lined with shelves and weapon racks. The shelf closest to the door was home to several linoleum plates stained blue and white and a couple lockboxes. Against either wall were two bookshelves, filled to the brim. They were leather bound and I only imagined how the parchment would feel under my fingers; how its scent would fill my lungs. I would have to investigate them another day.

Further back was the dining area with a long wooden table placed along the right wall, pulled up to the corner. A bench was tucked into it, a little crookedly. The left side sported a wooden and crooked stairway. Underneath it was a door. Mother pointed to it when she walked up next to me.

"Your room," she said, putting down her bag before looking at me. I was almost as tall as her, I noticed. "Do you need help with your things?"

"No," I replied as I proceeded towards the door. In turn, she proceeded up the steps. They creaked and moaned under her weight.

My bedroom was small, the bed taking up the entire left wall. On the right were a small wardrobe and a child's desk. A shelf hung on the wall, supporting a small chest. I sighed as I placed my bag on the small space of floor between my bed and the furniture on the right side. I sat on my bed and looked up to the chest. I thought of all the things I had managed to stuff into my last one over the past six years. I thought of the lunar moth wings and the flowers that somehow never wilted. I thought of my dolly, with her painted eyes and woven hair. I thought of the key I'd thrown away when I'd locked it all up. I wondered if I'd ever search for it; if I'd ever find it.

I closed the door before falling into my bed and closed my eyes. I waited to suffocate, for the walls to wrap around my lungs, and steal my breath away. They didn't.

Author's Note: Hope you enjoyed, please review! Next chapter will probably be super long because there's a chance that this chapter was supposed to go into two years of life at Whiterun. There's also a chance I got caught up with the leaving part and ended up with this 6k chapter o.O Anyway, thanks to my beta, as always!

Published on 26/08/2014

Edited on 25/04/2015