Chapter 4: Put a Spell on Me
It was getting late, so I walked around looking for the Redguard initially, but I gave up once I realized it would defeated the purpose of a secret meeting. I ran into another Redguard, however, having an argument with his wife about hiring mercenaries to help him recover a lost family heirloom. The woman, a bit of a salty one at that, had a good point about the man spending precious coin on a problem he may or may not be able to solve.
However, he mentioned a strange marking, a familial one that the sword had on the back of the blade. I distinctly remembered that I happened to recover an unusual looking iron sword from White River Watch, a place that was nearby Whiterun...and the Redguard had mentioned the bandit lair was nearby. If nothing else, I had to ask. I didn't originally sell it though; I figured I'd need the extra metal if my magic ran low. Turned out the sword was, in fact, the Redguard's lost sword. Amren, as I learned his name, was grateful.
He brought me back to his house and he and gave me some finer points with the sword. His wife, Saffir, wasn't very inclined to participate and spent most of the time reading. At least she managed to keep that annoying kid of hers in check. By the time we were done, darkness had fallen. Midnight, however, was a few hours away and despite my desire to learn more, my impulse told me to head for the tavern right away.
The Bannered Mare had a large fire pit in the middle, its light shone through the entire inn. Inside there were the sounds of a bard playing his lute, drinking and dancing, the smell of sweetrolls and apples, mead and fire. There was a young woman talking to another man as I entered. She had grayish hair, but was probably only a few years older than me. It had that same feel as I entered into the town, warm...inviting. There was not that out-of-place feeling as I walked to the bartender and ordered a room for the night. She told me where it was, and then I turned at the sound of a sweet voice, a hand waving me over and that familiar, friendly smile. The entire thing was odd. Something stirred in me and I balked at the idea that you can never go home again...
"Over here!" Ysolda said. I walked over to the table where both she and the woman she spoke of eariler say. Of us three, this long, black haired lady was the oldest and tallest. Not the best dressed of course, considering she wore the farmer's tunics she had during market hours; understandable, though.
"Carlotta. Annabelle and in reverse." said Ysolda introducing us. She simply nodded her head and I did in return.
Carlotta began, "I know Ysolda pretty well. She's a good friend. So, friend…what brings you to Whiterun?"
"Same thing as everyone else…I'm just the average Breton trying to make it in a tough life."
Ysolda laughed. I repeated what I'd said back in my mind to see how fake it sounded.
"Liar." She said under her breath. I couldn't be mad about her sniffing me out.
We talked about quite a few things, the civil war, the dragon "rumors", general Skyrim comings and goings, and even brought up Carlotta's daughter Mila. During our discussion over dinner, we heard the rather crisp voice of a male bard in the background. None of us had thought to bring him up until I almost revealed my own desire to have a little...me running around with the spirit of a bird. Of course, given my past, such a thing was highly unlikely.
"He's quite the talent. Mikael, I presume?" I said.
Carlotta scoffed. "He keeps boasting about how he wants to court me and isn't afraid of anyone finding out. I keep telling him to stop. Can the men of this town at least respect my simple wish to take care of my stand and watch after my little girl who needs me more than I need a new husband!"
"I'll take care of him." I said coldly.
"Just don't kill him or anything. He's not a terrible person."
"I do know who terrible men are."
"Yeah, Nazeem over there." Carlotta said, pointing to a rather smug looking Redguard in fancy robes. She burst into laughter at that point. My response quickly silenced her.
"No. No one you've met before." I said, my voice cold.
I immediately got out of my chair and walked up to Mikael. He had finished that "Ragnar the Red" song and was talking with a heavily armored Nord woman in the back. I asked him if we could talk privately and he agreed. It was too easy. I led him into my room at the inn and I could swear he was salivating as a dog would. Once I closed the door, I attempted to discuss serious business. However, I was standing right at the door; he put his hand on the door and leaned into me.
"Couldn't wait to get me alone, could you? No worries...I always have time for a beautiful woman though."
"Yeah, but that's not the reason. I hear you're chasing a lot of different women."
"Well, you can't always believe everything you hear."
"Well, Carlotta's one of them...and she'd like you to leave her alone."
"Sorry...is that jealousy? I am determined to have her as my..." he said, that is...until I interrupted him with a hand full of shocking light. I almost laughed when the bard nearly jumped out his breeches, "Whoa! Let's be reasonable here."
"Carlotta wants to be left alone. That means no courting, no flowers, no serenades, no love poems, not even a seductive look, and if you even fondle Carlotta in a dream you better wake up and pray to Stendarr for mercy. If I hear something else from her, there's going to be chestnuts roasting over an open fire." I said, showing him a hand of flame next.
Mikael backed away quickly once he saw the magical fire. He looked like a frightened mouse as he held his hands up in surrender.
"Do you goddamn understand me?" I said softer, more firm.
"Yes. I swear on my honor, I won't bother sweet Carlotta again." he finally answered.
"Thank you!" I said, returning to my sweet voice.
I almost skipped down to the table. Carlotta was deep into ale bottle at that point and playfully I touched her on the shoulder as I sat down. I grabbed a mug of ale and drank it down.
"It's done. The bard has been subdued." I said, wiping my mouth. Carlotta looked like she was about to jump on the table and start dancing.
She handed me two pouches of coins. I poured a few out of the bag and called over the server. A Redguard came over to the table, a woman with brown, graying hair. What was it with Redguards in Whiterun?
"Well, ladies...drinks are on me apparently." I said, bursting with joy, "Three Black-Briar meads please."
I handed the woman the coin and she walked away. However, the way she looked at me...it was like I had some odor that I didn't wash off before I got to the table. But that wasn't the case...I mean, I clearly washed that morning. I shook my head and I noticed Ysolda again. She wasn't smiling at the time, but she wasn't angry at anything. She kind of...looked away from me at first. The way the light from the fire shined, there was a shade of darkness on the right half of her face. She then looked back at me and there was that smile, only for a moment, but it was there. It was infectious.
The woman, Saadia as I came to learn later, came back to the table with our amber mead bottles in tow. I took them off and passed them around and nodded my head to her. Out of nowhere, Saadia looked annoyed.
"Now, please, no more questions." she said as she walked away.
Carlotta, Ysolda and I exchanged looks of equal confusion. We all looked around like we'd lost something.
"Wait, what?" I said.
"Does anyone feel...awkward right now?" Ysolda asked.
"Yeah. You know what? Never mind that. Ladies...a toast." Carlotta said, raising her glass. We all followed suit. "To the single women of Skyrim..." Carlotta began.
"...may we all be worthy pursuits." Ysolda finished. We tapped glasses and howled a little before we bottomed up.
We spent the next hour drinking and listening to the same three songs over and over. Although, it was both amusing and strange to watch Carlotta trying to dance and drink at the same time. Of course, what she did wasn't really dancing as much as bizarre arm-waving, as if she was conducting some kind of bardic play or something. In fact, I noticed a lot of people in the tavern did this dance. It was...disturbing. However, the hour grew late and I remembered I had a secret meeting. Realizing the task that lay in front of me, I got up from the table.
"Well, it was nice spending quality time with you girls...but I have an early start tomorrow. I'm going into a Nord ruin. Bleak Falls Barrow."
Carlotta was caught mid-swig. She gulped down the rest of the mead and started coughing a bit, when she choked out, "Really?"
"Yes."
Ysolda arched an eyebrow. "I hope you're not doing it alone, friend."
"Oh, no...I've got some help lined up. I just thought of a very creative way to resolve a love triangle...but I have to meet someone first."
As I passed the well and made my way to the Temple of Arkay, I saw blue roses in someone's garden. Purple flowers filled me with joy and a desire for love. Blue roses...they filled me with dread. I did not want to remember; but I never had any choice, did I?
The blue rose was a symbol of Evermore and every mid-year was the Festival of Blue Roses. Every man and boy would give their wife, lover, mother or friend a single blue rose to celebrate whatever bond they had. Then, every twenty five years, there was the Tournament of the Blue Rose.
It was a yearlong event, one held by the ruling house, House Swyn, to select the most beautiful and talented girl from all around the kingdom. The winner would be given the chance to marry the eldest available son of the Count and be given a title and made part of the family. Despite my initial hesitation and my...personal feelings, I accepted my nomination and was brought to the Chateau in a grand carriage pulled by white horses. I mentioned my...feelings. To be honest, there was no turning it down. There was that longing for Claire, but honestly...no girl wanted to pass up the chance for her and her family to be set up for life.
Twelve girls were selected in over the course of a month. There was me, Chere Blue-Water…that shrewish Nord, Damile Resra, my friendly rival and bardic vocalist Brahne Rosten, the youngest participant Marie Amerie...
All the girls were given gambler's chances to be crowned Lady of the Blue. The favorites were that tall, implacable instigator, Chere, and the Court's favored girl, Brahne, had the overall seeded lead.
I mean...Aries was, by all accounts, an upstanding citizen. While a bit stern, he had a kindhearted presence that reassured even my clumsy, stuttering self the first day I met him. Sure, Claire was always in my heart, but really, what girl would turn down a proposal from Aries Swyn? Would they give up the eternal splendor of the White Forest's hunting ground and Chateau Seraphine?
For me, it should have been the best thing to ever happen to me. If I lost, I wouldn't lose Claire. If I won, me and my parents would never have a worry for the rest of our lives. My father and I had our rocky moments concerning the Soren shenanigans, but I remember when he heard the news, he picked me up...his "little Buttercup", we hugged and kissed and he and spun me around like it was a grand court dance. I hadn't seen him that happy in years.
Claire was also happy for me. We were both happy. I was lost in the moment. My mother, however, was suspicious from the start.
See, she knew something was up when there were a number of arbitrary rule changes that year. And there the obvious flag, the fact she was not allowed to come. Only one chaperone and one personal friend were allowed and the judges determined who it would be; my father was chosen. In fact, only the fathers were chosen. I only had my reservations because of my feelings for Claire.
The personal friends had a special purpose: to the be the eyes and ears of the contestants. I needed Claire despite her...limitations. The tournament consisted of a series of trials every month and the last girl was eliminated. The trials were both ludicrous and practical: politics, sword arts, swimming, horseback riding, game hunting, magical duels, dice and card playing...even rock climbing! I told mother not to worry.
My father was even more convincing. "Don't worry about it, Sophie…I'll make sure everything goes smoothly. Nothing will go wrong. This could be the chance of a lifetime!"
Cryptic words indeed. I should have had my mother's instinct.
The losers were supposed to be sent home, none of them ever arrived. I didn't know this of course. There was no outside contact. In the end, it came down to Chere and me. And I lost...
However, instead of going home...I was tossed in the Chateau's prison. Along with all the other girls apparently. The entire Tournament was a sham. A lie.
"Relax. I'm not your enemy." said the voice. And from the shadows stepped a large, hooded dark-armored Redguard. I knew who it was instantly. If it had been anyone else, I would have not have recognized them, even with the magical fire's light. He still had the scar that ran down his left eye, the slick smile, and the twin blades of ebony at his side.
"S'aarke!" I said in excitement.
Silas S'aarke...the Red Prince of Dragonstar. Legend told he was the son of a legendary Redguard thief known only as the Sunset Queen and the Imperial guard captain assigned with catching her. All I knew was that he fought in the Imperial Legion during the Great War and left in disgust after the White-Gold Concordat was signed. He put his...talents to use elsewhere and established the Red Masks guild.
When we left High Rock, we stayed in the nearby mountains for a month. Once "they" got close, we joined a traveling minstrel group and fled to Hammerfell. We stayed in Dragonstar for about seven months, working on the low end of the Red Masks. Silas ran the bazaar area for his marks, taught me the basics of pickpocketing and staying in the shadows. He and mother didn't always get along, but they they always came around...eventually.
We left and crossed the border into Imperial lands. We escaped a violent skirmish with some hired killers outside Chorrol. We found a note covered in blood and almost unreadable. However, Mother believed our would-be killers may have been connected to an organization called the Dark Brotherhood.
They were a legendary group long ago, S'aarke told me once...but their power had waned greatly since. Mother spent years convinced the Dark Brotherhood was behind my sister's death. I remember my father found her body in the flower meadow about a hundred yards from our home. Katriana was just six...two years younger than me. She had been strangled, the city guard said, and in her hands laid a single blue rose.
S'aarke tried to use his contacts to find out more, but turned up nothing. They found us first.
"It's been a long time, little 'Belle. You know, I hear there's someone in Riften who can fix that beautiful face of yours..."
"I really appreciate your beauty advice." I said sarcastically. My tone turned to concern. "Things must be bad indeed if you're here."
"True. But we have common enemies, you and I." he said. He came closer to me.
"I will be brief. You mother wrote to me asking me to investigate the link between the Dark Brotherhood and the Coterie." Silas began, softening his voice. "She and I survived a chance run in with them many years before you were born. A killing in Dragonstar, two professional assassinations both left with a blue rose in the hand of the victim."
"Just like..." I began. My sister...
"Exactly. There is no official link between the two...considering the Brotherhood only kill for money. The Coterie…they are who we need to be concerned with. They've come to Skyrim...in force." he said, his face becoming even more serious. "They are searching for something, for what, I do not know. Whatever they're up to, it's obviously a sinister one."
"So, what do I do? What if they come looking for me?"
"When you finish this business with the Jarl, take the carriage to Windhelm. Find the mining town known as Kynesgrove and we'll talk more. And whatever you do," his voice became deadly serious, "Do not chase after the Rose or the Brotherhood. Not yet."
"No promises." I replied coldly. Silas laughed.
"Well, in that case...good luck. May the gods watch over you, Annabelle."
Silas faded into the shadows with a powerful spell of invisibility.
I don't know what happened that night. For about an hour or two, I couldn't sleep. I didn't want to think about anything else but my sister. I wanted to block out that pain and then...it hit me.
There was something about Ysolda that had me entranced. It was not that I thought about her all night, just once and everything was just quiet. I was confused when I woke the next morning. It felt like I wasn't even in the Bannered Mare anymore. I felt like a new person. Over the year spent away from home, I couldn't count how many sleepless, horror-filled nights I had. The entire person I was merely hid under my graceless, clumsy, and skittish appearance. Under the skin, there was nothing but pain; the pain I felt in the past and the poison in my soul. It was not just the scars I had, but all the darkness inside seeped through to the surface. And for one night, they were all silenced. There was another smile as I got out of bed.
It went away as quickly as I came about, and I didn't care. Ysolda, progress in my objective, jobs for the Jarl...my luck was turning around. I looked in the courtyard for any sign of my new friends from the previous night, but I realized I'd gotten up a little too early. I couldn't wait around though; I had work to do for the Jarl. I'd see her when I returned. With lightness in my heart I hadn't felt in nearly two years, I left the city and trekked back to Riverwood.
The morning was crisp and cool with a light breeze. I was actually pleased that the walk back to Riverwood was uneventful; if boredom had teeth, it'd be the only thing that could hurt me.
During the early summer months, Claire and I would wake up early and sneak to the White Lake. It wasn't that we were forbidden from there, Mother even joined us a few times. The simple fact, everyone wanted to go to the White Lake and buy mid-summer, it showed. No one went out past the rocks except in boats; the slaughterfish didn't attack near shore. Course, the shore became a trash hole by autumn. Some jokingly called it the Brown Lake, a crass but appropriate fall nickname for that place. My father's job at Chateau Seraphine kept him busy and sometimes we went days without seeing him. Those days, my days of sixteen and seventeen summers, those were the greatest years I knew.
Claire and I, nothing would come between us then. It was something not even blindness could take away.
She knew the distinct scent of those purple flowers, knew what they looked like, and exactly where to find them. That last day of the summer's end, when I left for my apprenticeship under Soren Sywn, she and I locked eyes one last time. She wanted to remember what I looked like before the disease took her sight completely. So I held her head to mine and I said, "I don't care if you don't remember my face. Just me."
Almost three years later, Claire died in my arms in a prison cell. Whether or not the gods put the merchant queen of Whiterun in my path was irrelevant. I'd let her go, I'd moved on...but she was not going to be a memory. There were other people who suffered at the hands of my would-be killers.
As I finally reached Riverwood and saw the Bosmer hunter I was looking for...I knew only one thing. The Dark Brotherhood, the Coterie, and father...they were all going to pay.
I knew this, but I didn't want to make myself too angry. I thought of the Nord woman again. Eventually, I calmed down again. Something about her presence calmed me every time. Why? I barely knew her. She was friendly though. I was going to find out why. I'd let Claire go a long time ago. Whatever enraptured me about Ysolda, I wondered whether or not to ride that wave until it crested; but there were more important things to do.
Riverwood was still a bit sleepy when walked towards the mill. No one was there except the very person I needed to see. Faendal had a big chin and gray skin, of sorts, and he seemed much older than he looked. His face looked full of stones and wrinkles, and behind them lay years of knowledge about this region. He had the knowledge I needed.
The moment I spoke to him he said, "Did I see you talking to Sven? That bard thinks his songs and poems are going to win him Camilla's heart. I bet he sees her only a prize."
"And you don't?" I countered.
"Hmm...I've been wondering how to appeal to Camilla's sensitive side. Actually, I have an idea. I've written up a...letter from Sven to give to Camilla. This should quickly change her opinion of that lute-playing fool."
He handed me the letter and as I quickly took it from him, my eyes bulged and squinted in sheer horror. If a man pulled something like this with me, I would have slapped him into the Second Era.
"Yikes." I said in shock. I slowly folded up the note and handed back to him, "I have a better idea."
I took him to the Sleeping Giant Inn to find Sven. Of course, I didn't tell him we were going to find Sven; he just assumed it as we walked into the place. The Sleeping Giant wasn't that impressive compared to the Bannered Mare. It felt more like a clean barn instead of an inn. The blonde haired Nord was preparing another song for the four or five guards inside. These were the soldiers the Jarl had dispatched from Whiterun. I remembered that dragon, what difference would five extra men make? But two mercenaries in a Nordic ruin? That would've made a world of difference.
"There once was a hero named Ragnar the..." Sven started. I walked up him and put my hand on the lute's strings.
"Sven, if I hear that song one more time today...I'm going kill myself."
I was serious. By then I'd heard Ragnar the Red five times in three days.
"Sorry, I didn't...wait," he said, suddenly noticing my companion, "What is HE doing here?! Did Camilla put you up to this? There's no way she's going to chose you over me!"
"Okay, listen, let's discuss this civilly..." I tried to cut in.
"All you do is sing the same three to five songs every day, you got fired from the mill for drinking on the job twice, and you still live with your mother!"
At this point, they were in each other's faces. Sven countered, "My mother is touched in the head, you heartless...twit!"
"Maybe I should I report you to the Thal..."
When I was angry...the scars on my face were painful. The sage in Dragonstar told me that. Magical weapon wounds, he said, They tend to leave permanent scars. Emotion can affect them too, you know.
"HEY! Jackasses!" I shouted, separating the two. If my scars weren't showing before, they were as I silenced the entire bar. My face was on fire. "Both of you shut up and sit down!"
Men. They looked like frightened rabbits. I took a deep breath as both men finally came to their senses and sat back in their chairs. I ordered some mead from Delphine and said my piece.
"The Jarl of Whiterun is sending me into Bleak Falls Barrow to find this...Dragonstone thing...whatever it is. I need you boys to watch my back."
Both of them cracked smiles; Faendal was more subtle, but Sven was grinning ear to ear.
"Hmm...you know, maybe if I don't get Camilla, you and I could...you know, watch each other's backs." said Sven. I had a very good reason to never want to be with another man again. The mere thought of Sven, Faendal or even Mikael having sordid, lust-filled fantasies about me almost made me vomit. I was not exaggerating. I literally felt like harking back up the fish I had for breakfast.
I flashed Sven an obscene gesture, "Watch this."
Sven flew out of his chair.
"Sven!" Faendal said, a welcome relief of civility. The bard sat back down. For a moment, I thought he was going to draw on me.
"What do we get out of this deal?" Sven asked. I felt some heat in my cheeks; I clenched the mug a little tighter and glared at the fool. I shook my head and wondered if his head was full of stones.
I pulled out a parchment and a pen. I asked Delphine for some ink as I noticed the bottle I swiped from White River Watch was almost empty. I began to write the terms of the deal. First rule of dealing with mercenaries, my mother said: get it in writing.
"You know, I should have emptied my purse for that mercenary in Whiterun because I'm sure neither of you posses a single intelligent thought nor a decent thought about how to actually court a woman. Though Faendal, I'll give you credit on creativity." I said, pointing the pen at the elf. I then put on my best imitation of his voice.
"My name is Faendal…I have an idea...let me write a fake letter about the other guy and get some stranger to hand it to her!"I resisted the urge to laugh, probably because my exhaustion of dealing with these two idiots outweighed the humor I would enjoy.
"The terms are this: split the gold and loot evenly. The Dragonstone and any magical items belong to me and speaking of courting a woman..." I said, dipping the pen back in the ink. "The person who kills the most enemies...gets Camilla." I said, as I finished writing the document. I pointed at Delphine. "Witness?"
"...yes." she said begrudgingly and went back to cleaning.
"Do you gentlemen agree?" I asked. There was some silence, but finally both men took the pen, signed the document, then got up and shook hands. I handed the parchment and the ink bottle to Delphine. I took a swig of mead then the bard let out a faint smile as he slumped back in the chair.
"Would be nice to get out of this village for awhile. Who knows what's in there?" Sven said.
"Dead things." Faendal replied, "What do you know about Bleak Falls Barrow?"
"Apparently, it was a temple for the ancient dragons...I think." I said.
"Really? I didn't know that."
"Wait, what? Aren't you the hunting expert here?!" Sven said, worried, "Stendarr's mercy, we're all going to get killed up there."
Maybe I was wrong. Sven wasn't quite as dumb as he looked, but for the sake of saving face, I put on some bravado. "Come on boys...scared are we?"
"No...of course not!" Sven answered, defensively.
The elf scoffed and looked right at me. "Are you?"
I hesitated for a bit. That really caught me off guard. "To be honest, a little."
"That's good. You're not stupid." Faendal replied. I figured he was the smarter of the two people...or the lesser of two idiots. I snorted when he said that.
"There's very few women that are." I noticed Delphine let out a little chuckle before walking off. "Get some rest. Tomorrow morning we're setting out."
I couldn't sleep again that night. I dreamed of fire and death from a year ago. Everything was burned away. They'd burned our home and my mother's shop with the Dumner workers sleeping inside. Drozna, Maera, Qorin...
There were a lot of dark elves in our city. Most of them were fine people and my father had befriended a few as well.
I remember Drozna finding me in the attic of the shop the day after my sister died. I was hiding, afraid that someone would try to kill me. "There will always be bad people in the world," she said, trying to comfort me, "and because of that, we can't be afraid of life because we're afraid of death. The only thing that matters is what we do with the time we're alive."
My father was broken that day. He'd always insist I'd sleep in the same room with him and mother. He never wanted to let me go. I remembered it was around the time he started calling me that silly nickname: Buttercup. Eventually, the grief faded and our family's standing improved. We never wanted for anything. We weren't rich, but we were the family everyone in the countryside envied. For eight years, life was bliss. For eight years, my father actually loved me. Unbeknownst to me, all our success was tainted. My father laid down with corruption no one, not even my mother, saw coming. Oh...there were rumors, but no one believed them. Evermore was the jewel of the south. Then it all came crashing down...
I woke up with a start, shaking; my skin felt aflame. I let the cold magic I had and rode my hands over my skin. I reached over and grabbed a bottle of ale and held it, counting to thirty, then sixty. Eventually, I drank the ale and it was only slightly cold, but good enough. But I still couldn't stop shaking. I focused on that smile...Ysolda's smile. My breathing slowed. It was as if her memory had put a spell on me, a reverse-spell of Calm, one that made me docile. Peaceful and silent; eventually, I stopped shaking.
Then I heard something outside my door...a commotion. There was a sound of someone, something tearing up the bar. I walked to the door and cracked it open.
"I know you're here somewhere!" the voice said. My breath turned to quick rasps. Then it became a low hiss as my teeth clenched. I thought I recognized the face for a moment,
It was still dark, from what I could tell. The man outside, one that looked like an Orc, turned towards where I was, hiding behind the door. I had just closed it, but he had to have gotten a glimpse of someone behind it. There was the rapid sound of movement...and the door collapsed on me before I could even ready my spells! I quickly crawled out and was face to face with my attacker. He was almost as surprised to see me as I was…initially. The man was, in fact, a lightly armored Orc with an unusual sword at his side. But his face...those reddish eyes. That bloodied set of pupils turned towards me as I prepared a magical defense. I knew that face.
In a moment, the sudden peace I felt faded away and everything became That face had haunted the halls of my prison a year ago. Zorian. Father and Arian wanted me alive...the other girls, dead. No witnesses. Leto...Delilah...Marcellus...Zorian...those monsters...what they did to them...
What they did to me...
Once I fully saw who he was, my face was filled with pain, my blood turned hot and my expression of shock turned into a snarl. He replied in kind. Of course he had to come after me. His face...the left side of it was burned away, compliments of me. He should have died, but he didn't. I would not make the same mistake again. Forty seven days of watching my friends die and abuse at the hands of my father's and Arian Swyn's men. What I did to him was a kindness.
"There you are! I knew that bitch of an innkeeper was lying! You can't escape us! Your soul belongs to the Queen of Shadows!" he shouted.
He didn't know. Back then, there were wards on the prison walls to keep us from casting spells. Once all the other girls died, they reveled in my suffering, my loneliness He didn't know what kind of torture I could conjure up now. That flames I had was not just the new fire spell I learned.
"You and I have unfinished business."
Rage filled in the palm of my hand and my voice became monstrous.
"Don't count on it...you son of a bitch!" I spat back.
Chapter 5: The Big Fight in Bleak Falls Barrow