Chapter 1

When Lucretia comes to, the world is spinning. She was pinned down to the icy ground by another prone body littered with arrows. She could see his face speckled with blood; he was one of her guards—Titus, her mind supplies. She vaguely remembers someone grabbing her and shielding her from the surprise attack, his weight had caused her to fall but she struggled to recall what happened after that…

Her attempt to move Titus from her was weaker than she had hoped; his heavy plate making his weight unbearable, slowly crushing her. Her mind darkened and swam, and she was losing her ability to focus. A warmth tickled the side of her face, glistening at the corner of her left eye.

Slowly the world came to a standstill and it became easier to see the chaos that surrounded what was left of their small entourage. Fire burned on the trees near the edge of the clearing, creating ominous shadows dancing along paths leading back into the forest. The lack of air from the heavy weight of another armored body covering her own had Lucretia's breath coming in shorter bursts, she was beginning to panic. She could hear the fighting and some shouting from somewhere around her but without the ability to move and see what was truly happening, she was afraid. Where was her brother? He was right beside her when they finally crossed the border into Skyrim. He wouldn't have left her to die here!

'Valerius!' Her mind calls out desperately when her voice fails her, 'Val?!' She ignores the pain that comes with moving her head, trying to search for her brother. Darkness swims at the edge of her sight again, she can barely make out shadows drifting between the trees and the fires that engulfed their creeping branches. It was coming closer.

Her heart seems to lurch when a hand shoots down and roughly grabs her shoulder, snapping her attention to the shadow that had crept up to her from the other side. The hood he wore shadowed much of his face but mouth and chin. It took her a moment to realize his lips were moving but the ringing in her ears made hearing his words impossible. Suddenly he rolls the body off of her as if Titus weighed nothing and her sudden intake of air was followed by a strained cough before he is placing his hand lightly over her mouth and silencing her with a gesture. She did what she could to refrain from loudly coughing again but now she felt nauseous.

He gently pulls at her underarms to get her to sit up before signaling for her to follow him into the shadows on the eastern side of the clearing. At least it isn't burning over there yet. She rolled onto her knees before staggering to her feet in a crouch, her unidentified guard hovering just a hair's breadth in front of her. When she stumbles, her body is caught by his back and free arm stretching out just slightly to help hold her up without restricting her. She holds herself upright on his arm but leans away from him as she vomits. He doesn't speak as she takes a moment to reorient herself but he looks her over before settling his gaze on the blood drying on her face. Once her stomach is emptied and the dizziness abates, he leads her just inside the shadow of the trees where it was harder to see from a distant glance.

As she sits down against one of the trees, her breath catches when a pale hand reaches up and brushes a tangle of blood-stained gold curls back from her face, a warming sensation replacing the frozen touch left by the back of his fingers. The pain in her head faded but she could tell he didn't fully heal the wound. "This is as far as my healing abilities go. When you get through the rest of the way, make your way to Falkreath. There you can find a priest to finish the healing. Alright, let us move on. Get up." She could only manage a small, perplexed nod but that seemed fine to him either way.

They skirted along the edge of the unburning trees in order to get to the northern end of the path. The progress was slow with everytime the clashes came too close, her guard held her back and shielded her from view. He used the bushes and shrubbery to their advantage, blending their silhouettes into the dark recesses of the forest. She kept a light grip on the back of his tunic, taking care to not drag him down. A few times he looked back at her and she avoided meeting his gaze, she felt like a scared child enough as it was.

Only two times did he permanently silence any enemy foolish enough to stagger within his arm's reach; deft and silent like an assassin. Considering the stakes, she drove down the moral discomfort for a later time. At least he was seemingly on her side in the fight. Continuing onwards, they neared the path that would lead them further North of the Jerall Mountains and then deeper into southern Skyrim. They were so close…

By this point, this ringing in her ears was no longer from the head wound that she sustained but from the sound of swords clashing. Her eyes anxiously darted between shadows that appeared to sway and dance in a clash of fire and steel, searching for the one who looked just like her. 'Where are you, Val?' Her unknown guard noticeably shifted closer where the heat of another body should have been, a cold lingered and permeated through her tunic.

When she looked at him, her eyes made contact with another pair that were an unholy blood red. He was watching her and she felt like cornered prey. His features—while clearly Imperial—were a tad too sharp and his cheeks too gaunt. Something about his features also tickled a vague recollection in the back of her mind, she had seen him somewhere before…

She felt her throat lock up, there was indeed something wrong with this man. His hand took purchase on her elbow, his fingers cold as death where they brushed past the tears in the sleeve of her tunic. She had no doubt that he could hear her heart racing, more now than during their escapade from the other side of the clearing.

"Lady, I must find your brother. I will lead him here but you must press forward. You cannot go back now." She could not fathom who he was nor why he would be bearing the symbol of their house on his tunic; yet her mind reminded her of his actions, he sought her out and brought her to the other side safely. Surely if he meant to kill her he would have done so when she was trapped by the body of her guard. "Here. Take this, keep it close. You may find yourself in need of it but I pray you never have to use it." He pushed what felt like a dagger into her cold, numb hands.

When she failed to respond, his grip tightened on her arm. "This is no time for dallying." His hushed reprimand jolted her mind forward and her body into action. Her body jerked as she nodded back to him, followed by a murmured "Yes." With his red eyes searching her face, his expression lost some of its sternness and melted into something almost fond.

She wants to fear him—knows she should—but he saved her. Protected her. He even attempted to heal her. Surely he could not be their enemy, even if he is a vampire, if he would do all this for her. "Who are you?" she whispered, certain he could hear her.

His hand reaches up to cup her cheek and she reigns in the temptation to lean away from it, "A man long past his time. You must endure. Go now and don't look back." He hesitated, it seemed as though he had more to say but he cut himself off. "Go!" The intensity of his voice shakes her and like a frightened doe she turns tail and dashes farther down the path. Away from the fighting, away from the fires, away from her vampire guard, away from her brother.

The vampire watches briefly as she disappears further up the snowy Pass, hoping—praying—that she makes it safely to the other side. He turns back to the onslaught of forces, summoning a familiar to search for the younger twin. With a dagger in one hand and lightning crackling from the other, he sets forth to finish his mission.

It had taken Lucretia nearly two days of walking to get to Falkreath, following her brother's previous plans and orders of bypassing the nearest town of Helgen. That town was situated far too close to the border and being the second in the chain of command for the Imperial Legion meant that it would be too easy to capture her and cart her wayward self back to Cyrodiil. This also meant that she had to forgo finding a healer.

It was dusk by the time she had made it into the outskirts of the town, her body was barely functioning. Sweat permeated her heated flesh and the cold air did nothing to bring her temperature down. The ache in her left arm from the maws of a singular wolf had faded but only from the burnings of a fever that was beginning to ravish her. When her knees gave out in the middle of the path and she made no gesture to get back up, a muffled shout called out and a hold guard came running towards her.

He cautiously looped her undamaged arm over his shoulder and lifted her to stand with him, not that she had the strength to resist anyways. Once he was dragging her along she could vaguely make out another guard standing a ways apart watching with his bow drawn. Did they think she was a threat? Lucretia loathed to admit how weak she was at this moment, she doubted she had the will to lift her head.

The further the guard dragged her into the town, the darker it seemed to get. Or maybe her vision was going black. Lucretia couldn't make out what any of the buildings were as they shuffled by, the guard was holding all of her weight. She could vaguely hear someone call out and a door open. Light reached across the dark, sodden ground and the sound of quick approaching footsteps as they trekked out to meet them. Darkness reached forth to claim what was left of her consciousness.

When Lucretia awoke, it was to a cool cloth wiping her face. She turned her face into the hand that held it and sighed, feelings of relief and contentment washing over her. She was still alive...

The hand pulled back, "Well now, I see that you are awake. How are you feeling?" She allowed a moment to pass before opening her eyes to find the mer that spoke. Her first attempt to respond was interrupted by a dry cough; the mer helped her sit up before he handed her a ceramic cup half filled in what she assumed was water. Her second attempt fared better, "I have felt better but I am grateful to feel this well at all. I am assuming you are my healer?"

"I am not much of a healer by many standards but yes, I am Runil. Priest of Arkay here in Falkreath. Two nights ago when you turned up just outside the gates, you gave the guards quite the fright. From your wounds and the bite on your arm, they feared that you had been attacked by a werewolf and would possibly become one yourself."

"Nay, just a normal wolf. Are werewolf attacks common here?" If that was the case, her brother and any of their guards coming to meet her were possibly in more danger. Subconsciously she rubbed the bandages that were wrapped around her arm, there was no pain from touching it.

"Not usually, the only one that is known is Sinding. But he is currently held in jail. Do you remember anything that happened on your way here?" Lucretia knew he wasn't trying to pry but didn't know if she would be able to convince him with a complete lie. A half-truth will have to do for now.

"My brother and I were traveling to meet our family. We were waylaid on the road and were separated, has no one else made it to town?" The sympathy in his gaze made it easy to tell that he took her at her word. "Sadly no. It is not much but you are welcome to remain here until you are well enough to continue your journey. Mayhap by then your brother will have turned up looking for you."

"I cannot delay for too long, I have faith that my brother is alive and will join me when he is able. Thank you for your hospitality and healing, Runil. I… I just realized I never introduced myself to you, please call me Lu—Cassia." If he noticed her hesitation, he made no mentions of it. He gave her a smile and repeated it to himself, "Would you like something to eat, Cassia? I have a pot of porridge left over from this morning. Normally, Kust is here to share it with me but he has been taking his meals at the inn while he has been staying there."

"I… Yes, of course. Thank you." When she moved the hide covering her, she realized someone had dressed her down to just her short chemise; it barely reached past her hips. Her cheeks flushed at the inappropriateness of her lack of dress in front of a stranger. Quickly she returned the hide to shield her lower body from view; when she sneaked an embarrassed glance at Runil, his own golden cheeks were dusted with red and he was looking away from her with a bowl held in her direction, offering her the porridge with berries and honey.

"By Arkay, I swear it was not I nor Kust who undressed you. We had sent for a woman from the inn to assist with your undressing so that I might treat your harder to reach wounds. Your virtue remains untarnished in my care, I swear it." His cheeks deepened to a rosy hue and he looked mildly uncomfortable, Lucretia could see that this meant a lot to him.

With a soft chuckle, her embarrassment faded and she reached out to relieve him of the bowl. She looked up at the Altmer priest who stood before her and smiled, "Fear not, Runil. I did not once believe that you did nor that you would allow anyone else to do so. I was merely startled, it is not often that I find myself undressed in another's company." She chuckled again when his blush deepened, "I fear that you might have to deal with that for a little while longer. Seeing as the only clothes I had left in my possession were the ones I was wearing when I made it to town, I can only hope they can be repaired or another set purchased."

"If you have the coin, either is possible. It will depend on your urgency to leave though. Should you find yourself ready to depart within a couple days, I would probably advise selling the set that needs mending and spending the coin for something better suited for traveling. Skyrim is much colder, the weather is far less forgiving here."

Lucretia hummed with consideration as she took a spoonful of the porridge before responding, "I had not considered that. Is it possible to have another woman from the inn make the purchase for me while I recover here?"

"Valga—she is the woman from the inn that helped remove your robes—is also an Imperial, she might even be the same stature as you are. I am sure she would not mind assisting you again; I can head over to the inn now to speak with her."

Lucretia was beyond appreciative of this mer right now, she was not about to voice it but she was sure he could tell that she needed a moment to herself and was willing to go out of his way for it. "Thank you, Runil." When he had gone, she took to finishing off the rest of the porridge before sitting in contemplation. Her memory is still hazy from waking up within the clearing under attack, to her vampire guard, and then her mad dash into the southern wildness of Skyrim.

Bless the Divines she even made it! If she had run into a pack instead of just the lone wolf, she would have been dead. She loathed the missed chance to have a better understanding of wielding a blade, once they were safe she would need to have him teach her how to properly hold her new dagger. It was sheer luck that her attack against the wolf made enough contact—'after all he was biting into my arm'—to drive it off in search of easier prey.

With the time afforded to her, she left the warmth of the bed to find what was left of her belongings, which was an easy enough chore to do since they were piled atop the short dresser across from the hearth. Her body was sore from having laid in the bed for two days, according to Runil, and that was on top of the traveling she had already done. Her escapade from the Imperial City to the North of Bruma had taken them two days then wandering alone for two days to find the city of Falkreath. Strangely enough, it had yet to be a full week since she gave the guard assigned to her the slip but she felt like a lifetime had already passed.

Lucretia rummaged through what was left of her belongings to find her satchel and carried it over to sit in front of the burning hearth. She had not been carrying much on her person at the time, just a small bundle of letters from the year previous between herself and her father's sister, Naalia; a ring and whatever coin she had liberated her husband of. Most heavy items had been left in the packs carried by the guards or on the horse that was acting as their beast of burden.

She dug through her small pack until she found the ring; its golden band was fashioned in the likeness of a stem, housing a single ruby carved like a flower. The heirloom has been passed down to the eldest child on their fifteenth name-day for generations; with the early death of her parents, the ring was returned to her grandmother, Antonia Cassia Aurelius, until she and Valerius came of age and while she may be older, Val would carry on the family name so the ring was presented to him.

Valerius had passed the ring to her just before they left the border of Cyrodiil with a hard look and soft words, it stands for so much: a promise of their reunion and familial bond, declaration to right wrongdoings, to renewed hope, and a fresh start.

'Every Dragon's Tongue is guarded by its poison. And to anyone who dares to touch its petals, they will suffer for it in return.' Valerius was vicious, his heart was brimming with anger and hate for the bastard who hurt their family, for the weak Emperor who allowed himself to be pressured by the Empire's enemies, for the world that was destroying the last of our great house. And though it frightened her, it also reassured her. So long as he fought back against their fate, she would stand beside him always.

Lucretia takes a shuddering breath, she will not allow herself to cry here. She may be safe and cared for right now but this was still Imperial territory, she could easily be identified by the ring and turned over to the imperial army. Her husband's influence held a long reach, which is why her brother proposed a plan that involved her hiding out within the heart of Stormcloak territory. The plan, in and of itself, is a dangerous one because she runs the risk of being branded an Imperial spy and followed by a meeting with the executioner's block. Something she is wholly against.

When Runil returns with Valga in tow, they find the young woman sitting near the hearth in nothing but her chemise. She peers over her shoulder and greets them with a soft but tight smile as Runil sets down a small wooden tub near to her before quietly removing himself from the room.

Valga Vicinia likes to believe herself to be a decent looker even though she is now getting on in age but the girl–young woman–sitting before her in just a chemise is beautiful. It was a trick of the lighting as the flames of the hearth reflected off her hair making it shine with a brilliance, as though she wore a golden crown. It left her staring without a response for a moment longer than most would consider appropriate, given the state of the lady's under dress. Her–Cassia, according to Runil–expression remained politefully blank as she sat under the other woman's stare.

When Runil returned with two pails of water for the tub, the distraction helped break her from awkwardly staring. She clears her throat and lifts her arms to gesture towards the bundle of cloth folded there. "Ave, kinswoman. I have some things that may fit you, though you seem to be a bit smaller than I. Once you are bathed, if you require assistance I can help you dress."

As Runil empties the pails into the tub and Valga sets the bundle of clothes near the end of one of the beds, Cassia gives a soft hum before clearing her own throat. "Salve, thank you for your assistance, Madam Valga. If you would not mind, I could also use some assistance with bathing…" Her voice weakens and trails off. A soft blush touches the younger woman's cheeks as she turns her gaze aside, shame in admitting weakness in front of strangers perhaps? It was oddly enchanting to see this expression, a warmth spread in her chest. She was happy, without any reason; she wanted to help this woman who shone like a golden idol in the light of the hearth.

"Of course. And please, you may just call me Valga. I am simply an innkeeper." While she spoke, Valga busied herself with rolling up her sleeves. "Now then, Runil, if you would please give us some time. Tell Narri that I said you can have dinner and mead on-the-house. When I'm finished here, I'll come find you."

Runil merely nodded and glanced at the young woman's back with an odd look on his elven face. It was almost like he was contemplating something before he seemed assured of whatever he was thinking about, the look came and went quickly though. "By your leave, my ladies. You know where to find me." He quickly ducked past the door, a cold breeze momentarily wafting through the small interior.

Once Valga was sure they were alone within the priest's lodgings, she returned her gaze to what she could only fathom to be a lady. While still young, she was certain this woman was of some high birth. Her presence alone draws in attention, surely she was a young noblewoman who was too far from home, alone. 'Is she running away? Perhaps she is eloping? But if that is the case, where is her suitor?'

Runil only gave her bits of information, such that this woman was accosted in the Pale Pass with her entourage and was attacked by a wolf as she stumbled her way to Falkreath. Valga wondered why she wouldn't head for Helgen, it was closer to the Pass then their town was. Runil simply shook his head when she asked him, either he knew why and wouldn't divulge or he did not question the younger woman any further.

"I know it will be uncomfortable since the water is cold but I do not believe we should move too quickly. If your wounds become too agitated, I will need to fetch Runil to handle them."

"Oh, I can handle that. I have some experience with magic, I can use flames to heat the water some." Without waiting for Valga to reply, Cassia placed an open palm just beneath the surface of the water. The edge around her hands glowed a broken pattern of orange and reds, and after a few moments the water began to steam. "There, not quite as hot as I would prefer but more adequate than freezing cold."

"That is a handy trick but I wouldn't go using that where just anyone can see. The Nords up here are wary of most forms of magic and the sentiment has rubbed off on many others too. I may be fine with it since I used to live in Cyrodiil and it was common but to be on the safe side…" Lucretia nodded to show her understanding of Valga's words of warning. After all she was born and raised in the Colovian Highlands, she has lived the last few years in the Heartlands where snippets of rumor and truth can be heard. Notably, the stubbornness of the Nord of Skyrim and the rebellion that has been ongoing since before her birth; though only recently coming to a full civil war between Jarl Ulfric with his Stormcloaks and the forces of the Empire.

"Now let us get a move on while the water is still warm."