Chapter 2: Before the Storm
The road ahead was long and likely full of much difficulty, however, the wayward Actorius felt so lost in his own thoughts that it felt to register in front of his mind.
Not even the dragon could be given some consideration.
As he looked out upon the road before him as he followed behind Ralof, Daemon could only think of what was now lost. He had spilled the blood of Legionnaires, and even if word of those deeds did not reach the ears of someone who could use it against him he could never look at the empire the same again (either out of stubborn pettiness or an overactive response to the near-death ordeal). Not after what Tulius and his men tried to carry out. Thus his future seemed dubious, at best, especially in regard to the Cyrodiil people.
It was likely he would not see the imperial cities for some time. He doubted his eyes would ever behold the beauty of the Ruby Throne or the Colovian Highlands and he foresaw that any encounter with those who knew him before would not unfold in a mutually pleasant outcome; and worst of all, and damn every one of the gods (Aedra or Daedra), he questioned if he would ever see Cerys again.
Normally he would shirk off trouble, but this time it was different.
The situation caused Daemon Actorius to feel akin to the dark elves after their transmutation from Chimer to Dunmer from Azura's curse. The only deviation between himself and them was that the Chimer were led astray by the Tribunal, Daemon had not been led astray, he had had his life ruined by the incompetence of men and women who chose the path of indolenceness and ineptitude. If those fools had used their brains a smidge more this could have been avoided, but they didn't and now he was changed.
And there would be no Nerevarine riding in to avenge this injustice.
"See that ruin up there?" Ralof's voice suddenly jarred him from his thoughts, and Daemon looked to see him pointing toward the mountains across the White River. Nodding to show the Stormcloak he had his attention. "It's called Bleak Falls Barrow. When I was a lad that place would give me nightmares, draugrs creeping down the mountain to climb through my window at night, that kind of thing. I would suggest avoiding it at all costs. Gotta admit, even as a grown man, I still don't like the look of that place."
"Works for me." Daemon told him, not eager to get himself into any further trouble. At least for the moment.
The journey away from Helgen was peaceful, or as close to peaceful as journeying through Tamrial was capable of being. One vertical turn downward brought them to three stone structures with depictions of three different types of warriors—one of a thief, one of a mage, and one of a warrior—and after this the road had a few other turns but was otherwise leveled and straight forward.
With only a one-time run-in with a pack of wolves to hinder their progress whilst traversing along the road before the pair came upon a village on the eastern bank of White River.
"This the place you were talking about, Ralof?" Daemon asked. "The place where your sister and her mill are?"
"Aye, lad." Ralof answered as they neared the entrance. "Welcome to Riverwood. It isn't much, it doesn't offer the benefits of the Imperial capitals, but at the very least it possesses the essentials."
Daemon wasn't complaining. Grateful to be in a place which felt much safer than that damned keep.
Following him into the village, passing a smith's house on the left and a home on the right where a elderly woman was beckoning her son to come over onc through the entrance. Their grubby faces earned a few glances from the people they passed.
"A dragon." he heard the elder say. "I saw a dragon."
"What? What is it now, mother?" Her son seemed less interested in what she was saying and more so annoyed she was disturbing his routine duties.
"I was as big as the mountain, and black as the night." she told her boy insistently. "It flew right over the barrow." Much to the Riverwooder's obvious doubt.
As they passed the blacksmith's house he exchanged glances with a woman with long brown hair who stepped out to bring the smith a meal when their eyes met. She was pleased by the sight of his handsome face.
Ralof went to the lumber mill only to be informed by a wood elf working there that his sister and brother-in-law were at their home, contending with some paper word for the day, so that was where Daemon was guided to next. A house to the right side of the village (when entering from where they had come), which was one of the bigger guildins with a fence around the front of it keeping in some brown fur covered cows.
With three raps of the door, a woman's voice could be heard saying "One moment." before it was opened and they were greeted by the pleasing sight of a beautiful woman with shoulder length blond hair and blue sapphire eyes dressed in a long green dress and a white one beneath it, and brown gloves on her hand.
"Yes, what—" she halted her words in her tracks as she saw Ralof. "Brother?"
"Gerdur!" Ralof said with a smile. "It's been a while, sister."
"Mara's mercy, it's good to see you." she said, looking as though she had a thousand questions to rattle off one after another. "But is it safe to be here?"
"Gerdur…" Ralof knew to try to calm her right away, though his effort seemed to have little effect.
"We had heard that Ulfric was captured…"
"Gerdur, I'm fine. At least now I am."
At that, Ralof's sister became concerned. "Are you hurt? What's happened?" Then her gaze turned to Daemon—her countenance being initially scornful as she realized he was a Cyrodiiler before momentarily struggling with her emotions before she calmed herself—and her curiosity became centered around him. "Who's this imperial? I didn't know the Stormcloaks were getting so desperate that they'd started accepting these into their ranks."
"Easy, Gerdur. There's no need to be hostile." Ralof stepped in to defend Daemon. "He's my friend. I owe him my life, in fact."
"What…?" Gerdur asked with a baffled look on her face.
As she glanced back at him curiously, Daemon smirked whilst making a bow which was as mocking as it was playful. "Daemon Actorius, a pleasure, m'lady." Not seeing the light blushes in the cheeks of her composed face. Although Ralof did and was amused.
"Ahem." Gerdur cleared her throat. "Well then, my apologies, Daemon."
"Can we come inside?" Ralof asked. "There's no telling when news of Helgen will reach."
"Helgen?" Gerdur asked. Her interest peaked as well as even more concern arising. "Has something happened…?" before deciding this was getting nowhere. "You're right. Come inside." Before ushering them in with a hand gesture.
"Hod, wake up." Once inside the door closed, walking over to a bed in an alcove which was to the right of the house. Giving Daemon the opportunity to appreciate her backside as she did so "Hod, wake up." whilst he and Ralof seated themselves at a table.
The gruff man in the bed, stirred and groaned as he pulled himself up. "What is it, woman?" he asked. "Sven drunk on the job again?"
"Just get up, we need to talk?"
Once Hod was up he joined her at the table, immediately stupefied. "Ralof?" And quickly became more serious in his decorum.
Gerdur and Hod's son, Frodnar, was happy to see his uncle Ralo. Looking at Daemon mischievously briefly before his attention returned to Ralof. Having the chance to chat with him briefly before he was sent out to keep watch of the roads (and to come back if he saw any imperials besides Daemon).
Once the boy was out of sight and mind, Gerdur was quick to stay on point. Wanting to know what was going on, immediately. "Now, Ralof, what's going on? The two of you look pretty well done in."
Rubbing his head, Ralof sighed. "I can't remember the last time I've slept. Where do I even start?"
"I would assume the part where you got arrested." Daemon said facetiously. "Just a suggestion."
"Right." Ralof smirked. "Well the news you heard about Ulfric was true. The Imperials ambushed us outside Darkwater Crossing. Like they knew exactly where we'd be. That was…two days ago, now. There was an attempt to rescue us but it went poorly, even got my friend here arrested in all the confusion. We stopped at Helgen this morning, and I thought it was all over. Had us lined up for the headsman's block and ready to start chopping."
Just thinking about it makes my head hurt.
"The cowards!" was Gerdur's reaction.
"They wouldn't dare give Ulfric a fair trial. Treason, for fighting for your own people! All of Skyrim would have seen the truth then! But then…out of nowhere a dragon attacked."
Gerdur's eyes darted back and forth in the whites. Seeming to struggle with comprehending what she was hearing. Looking into Daemon's cold expression to see if she was being jested by her brother, confirming he was serious. "You don't mean a real, live…?"
"Afraid so." Daemon told her.
Though, was it so queer for them to believe? Daemon found it strange. Skyrim was not exactly a stranger to the beasts. The flying beasts were said to have once ruled with the province they now called home with their Dragon Priest retainers. Until the long and bloody Dragon War, when thousands of men died in conflict to rise against the dragon overlords.
"It was insanity to behold, if I'm being perfectly honest."
Ralof assured her as much. "I can hardly believe it myself, and I was there! As strange as it sounds, we'd be dead if not for that dragon. In the confusion Daemon and I managed to slip away." Before asking "Are we truly the first to make it to Riverwood?"
Gerdur nodded in a negatory "Nobody has come up the south road today, as far as I can recall."
"Good." Ralof felt true relief at last. "Perhaps we can lay low for a while. I'd hate to put your family in danger, Gerdur, but…"
"Nonsense." Gerdur told him as she looked at Ralof and Daemon with a smile.. "You and your friend are welcome to stay for as long as you need." Much to Daemon's pleasure, pleased to have the pretty Nord woman treating him pleasantly. "Let me worry about the imperials." Before she reaching into her pocket as she told Daemon "Any friend of Ralof's is a friend of mine." before pulling out a key to hand it to her new guest. "Stay as long as you like."
"With pleasure." Daemon said to her with a smile, which she returned with one of her own.
"I do have a favor to ask though." Gerdur told him as he put away the key. "We need to send word to Jarl Balguuf to send whatever troops he can afford. Riverwood is defenseless."
"I can do that, but I question if you'll need to worry about a dragon attack."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, you see…" It was doubtful that the village was at risk of falling victim to the dragon's wrath. Recalling what the elderly woman had said when he and Ralof were entering the village, Daemon was under the impression that the destroyer of Helgen had left this village they called home far behind—possibly deeming it not worth its time (assuming, of course, that dragons are capable are thinking rationally as the humans and other races of Tamriel—which, based on the way it was conducted itself during its attack on Helgen, seemed possible)—and was bound for a more pressing concern for a destination. And he told Gerdur all of this.
Much to her relief, Gerdur told him "Well, I would still prefer you deliver my message to the Jarl. Not today, or tomorrow, or in the coming days; but at some point."
"I will."
Gerdur found this to be acceptable so she proceeded to speak with Hod for a moment. Daemon's gray eyes transfixed on Gerdur as she was conversing
Ralof's sister was a fine woman. Capable as much as she was enticing in her body and personality. The nobleman enjoyed women who were not scared of sticking their neck out or getting their hands dirty. She was beautiful, as well. So much so, so beautiful, that Daemon could not help but to be captivated. Not as pleasing of a sight as his breton wife, but she was close in charm.
Once Hod was out the door, Gerdur noticed him gazing at her intensely.
"Why are you looking at me that way?" She asked him, pointing to her visage. "Do I have something on my face?"
"Huh?" Daemon just then realized what he was doing. Quickly coming up with an excuse for himself. "Oh, uh, nun-uh. I was just thinking of something and was lost in thought."
She seemed to take this excuse as satisfactory, although Ralof saw right through it only to stay quiet, and from there Gerdur proceeded to fashion a meal together for the two men, imagining that they must have been starving.
After presenting their meals to them, the lumber mill owner resumed her duties by returning her attention to the paperwork she had been preoccupied with before they arrived.
Daemon stayed indoors for the majority of the day. The family possessed some books for him to read, so he attempted to distract himself with those. Or any other activity he could find.
When his mind did begin to wander from the present and attempt to retreat from this reality he now inhabited, it went back to thinking of Cerys Dimun; of that long, waist length brownish-red hair which she kept in a braided ponytail, those soft brown eyes which made him feel loved unconditionally.
It made him resent his father for sending him to the Nord lands even more. If not for the stress it was inducing, then for separating him from Cerys this way. It was not as though he and his wife were the perfect, idealized couple. Upon his first meeting with the breton woman after their betrothal they did not begin on the best of terms. If he recalled correctly she had a relatively low opinion of him, perceiving him as another imperial noble who would get little done on his own. Becoming nearly unwilling to return with him to the Imperial capital, until he impressed her through personally helping her brother, Edwyn, in resolving a few trifling matters in High Rock. They gradually came to actually care for one-another, though it surprised him to realize how much he had come to love her before the wedding ceremony. And now he questioned if he would ever see her again.
He wanted to inebriate himself into being unconscious just remembering that fact.
When the opportunity to sleep finally presented itself, Daemon seized it without hesitation. Hoping his dreams would offer a distraction from these concerns raging within his mind.