A/N: I didn't expect updating this story this fast, I'm surprising myself! Reviews are appreciated, enjoy! :)
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my Dovahkiin Iona Silver-Fang. Everything else belongs to Bethesda.
"I couldn't be more grateful to you and your husband, Gerdur; but I really have to go. I already tired you guys too much."
"Are you crazy, girl? My little brother got out of that hell hole safe, and you brought us news about him. Helping you recover was the least I could do!"
Iona smiled at the woman for her kindness. She still hadn't recovered fully but she was good enough to walk to Whiterun. There were urgent affairs she had to take care of.
Like talking to the Jarl of Whiterun about the dragon in Helgen.
She still couldn't believe she made it out of Helgen alive. When she arrived to Riverwood, she had been trembling with fear and fatigue. She still could smell the burning flesh, still could hear the screams of dying people; they were the source of her nightmares when she twisted and turned in her sleep with a fever.
She collapsed just near the gates of Riverwood; thanks to the note she held close, the guards alerted Gerdur of her arrival. She didn't remember anything about her first three days there, just foggy illusions and nightmares. When she fully woke up on the fourth day of her stay, she found herself wrapped in furs on a soft bed. Her wounds had been treated and she was a lot cleaner than she remembered.
During her stay, Gerdur made sure she was comfortable. Even if Iona tried helping her and her husband Hod around the mill, she refused. Iona was a restless person, she wasn't used to sit around so she passed her time playing with Frodnar, Gerdur's son.
She was fully capable of walking around without her knees wobbling or her head spinning in seven days. She already spent too much time with Gerdur and her family so she didn't want to disturb them more than she already had.
Gerdur offered Iona to take whatever she needed in order to survive by herself. She also gave Iona some coins so she could buy the stuff she needed, but Iona really didn't need anything since Gerdur packed all she could fit in her satchel; plenty of food, nord mead, a waterskin, an iron dagger, some clothes, potions and lastly some ingredients for both cooking and doing alchemy.
Hugging Gerdur, Hod and Frodnar for their help and saying goodbye, she shouldered her satchel, long bow and arrows. Taking her hide shield and iron war axe, she waved goodbye to the hospitable family.
After all that lying around in the comfortable weather of Riverwood, Iona already felt cold. Her modified Stormcloak cuirass didn't help at all too.
Gerdur has told her to modify the cuirass if she were to continue wearing it since it had some destroyed parts and Stormcloaks were a sensitive subject, especially in Whiterun. So Iona removed the chainmail sleeves and the blue fabric wrapped around the leather tunic. The leather belts around the leather tunic were already torn off. She wore a shortened simple green dress in the leather tunic to keep her warm. Her calves and forearms were covered by fur boots and gauntlets.
She also had a hooded cloak in her satchel that Gerdur stuffed in.
Already feeling exhausted, she sat beside the river. She planned walking to Whiterun by following the river so her walk could be easier, even if it made her route longer.
Kneeling, she brought some water to her mouth with her hands. The water was cold, pure, and made her hum in delight while gliding through her dry throat. Cyrodiil didn't have such beautiful rivers.
Cyrodiil. Thabita. Malik'r. Bjorn. Endryn.
Her little family that she left behind, that she had to leave behind. She felt nauseous so she lied down on the grass. It wasn't her fault that they all died, was it? The newest member of their little family, Ardaline did it. She was a traitor. How could they know?
Sitting up, Iona watched her reflection on the water. With her blood red war paint gone and her almost white platinum hair down on her shoulders, she looked different. Sighing, Iona put the short cut hairs on her back in a ponytail.
Happy with the result, she got up and continued walking to Whiterun. She had work to do after all.
The stitched wound on her right leg was throbbing by the time she arrived near the farms in the outskirts of Whiterun. She was tired but seeing the old walls of Whiterun made her smile. As she was concentrated on the path ahead her, she didn't hear the loud footsteps behind her.
An angry giant approached her, club raised above his head, getting ready to strike.
Iona screamed when the club hit on the dirt near her, startled. The giant was alone, his mammoth probably had been killed and now its owner was angry, seeking revenge.
She ran a fast as her legs would carry her, but unfortunately the giant was pretty fast for its size. Unsheathing her iron war axe and holding her hide shield close, she watched the giant move. If the club were to hit her with full force, she surely would die.
Letting out a war cry, she ran towards the giant, using her smaller size to her advantage. Swinging her war axe, she brought it down on the right knee of the giant. The cut started bleeding, but the giant was unfazed by it, if not more angry. It quickly brought down its club on her, not wasting time to hit her better by charging.
She yelped in terror when the club collided with her shield, breaking it in half. After recovering from the shock of the hit and drawing back, she felt a strong pain on her left shoulder and let out a sickening scream.
Looking at her left shoulder, she saw the bones poking her skin, her arm limp at her side. She had fractured and dislocated her shoulder.
Her eyes wide in pain and her mouth open with a silent scream, she fell on the ground feeling nauseous and feverish.
The giant, seeing her on the floor, started approaching slowly.
Tears streaming down her face and screaming in anguish, she tried getting up but her violent trembling prevented her from doing so. Digging her nails in the dirt, she crawled back. When comfortable with the distance, she turned back to the giant, clutching her war axe tightly. Her vision was blurring and she was heaving now, but she wouldn't go down without a fight like a coward. She would fight before dying so she could join her loved ones in afterlife.
When the giant approached enough, she sliced its left ankle with her axe multiple times before letting out another blood curdling scream.
Waiting for the final blow, her vision started to darken and she got cold, really cold. But the blow that would've ended her never came.
Instead, she saw several pairs of feet in front of her before losing consciousness.
She didn't know how long she slept. She woke up several times, but only remembered of screaming in pain and agony; everything else was in haze. She saw her small family of survivors, her shield siblings that were long gone in her nightmares. She saw the beast that took many lives on her execution day, sparing hers. Most disturbingly, she saw her actual family, her parents; and it hurt more than any possible physical wound.
Everything was too bright. The light seeping through her eyelids disturbed her, forming a headache. With her whole body already aching, she wanted to die there. She had to die anyways. She would've died with her shield siblings that day if she hadn't stormed off like an idiot.
Feeling as if a dagger stabbed her brain, she tried groaning but it was futile. Her dry throat felt as if it would rip with the attempted moan.
Mustering her strength, she opened her eyes, hissing in pain. A woman in robes was at her side, holding a tankard. Holding her behind the neck, she slowly lifted Iona's head and helped her drink the water in the tankard.
"Hush, child. Hard times have passed, you are a lot better now, and you'll be even better in time. Patience."
She slowly laid Iona's head back on the altar, caressing her hair slowly and humming a soothing melody.
Iona felt content and tranquil after a long time despite her aching body. She missed not thinking about anything and simply lying down, she never had time to clear her head like this. The place she was in had a peaceful aura; it was bright inside but not disturbing since the source of light was the sun. She could smell a light flowery incense burning and it made her feel even light-headed. As her eyelids were fluttering closed, the front door of the temple was slammed open.
The headache returned with full force. The intruder of the peaceful place was a man with ear length hair, wearing a heavy armor. He was tall and somewhat built. She couldn't make out any details with the hammer pounding her brain.
The woman sitting near her sprang to her feet, hissing angrily. "Vilkas! You know that this is a temple for the sick and wounded, you shouldn't barge in like that. Have some respect for the people lying here if not for Kynareth , boy!"
The man was unfazed by the woman, a priestess as she guessed. He walked near the altar Iona was lying on and mumbled. "I'm really sorry for barging in like that, Danica. I was angry about something."
Sighing, the priestess placed her hand on the man's shoulder. "What is it that troubles your mind, child?"
"It's Kodlak. He wouldn't leave this strange woman here. He even sent me to check her instead of one of the whelps! I'm a warrior, not a baby sitter!" angry, he leaned down to see Iona's icy blue eyes staring into his. "Oh, she's awake."
"Yes, she is and she needs to rest. She's been out for a week. Poor child, her mind is as troubled as her body. Her physical wounds are healing quickly, but I can't say the same for the inner ones."
Iona stared in Vilkas' eyes, unblinking and started noticing the details of his face; eyes as icy blue as hers, clean hair, a faint stubble on his cheeks and chin. His brows were knitted in anger and a slight pout has formed on his mouth.
"Kodlak wants to see her as soon as possible. When will she be good enough to leave?"
Why would someone want to see her as soon as possible? She didn't do anything bad, and she already had stuff to take care of. Also, she wanted to be alone, to do some thinking. Iona was struggling in her mind, she didn't want to meet new people. She would hurt them, she knew it. That was what she always did to her loved ones. Hurting them, and ending up hurting herself once again. She couldn't take another blow to the heart, another great loss would break her beyond repair.
She just wanted to be alone, why was it so impossible?
Iona wanted to protest, but she didn't have the strength. Her eyelids were getting heavy once more.
The priestess looked at Iona in deep thought. "She will be good enough to leave in three days at most. She's healing quickly, but she needs to rest as much as she can."
Nodding, Vilkas muttered a thanks and walked towards the door. Throwing a final look at Iona with his eyes narrowed, he slowly slipped through the door as silently as his armor let him.
When the door closed with a faint click, Danica caressed Iona's hair for one last time. "Sleep now, child."
Danica didn't have to tell her twice, Iona was fast asleep when Danica stopped caressing her hair; she had slipped into a deep, dreamless slumber.