Content Warning: This story contains mentions of domestic violence, family abuse, and themes of loss and grief. Reader discretion is advised.

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Amidst the biting chill of Windhelm's streets, Livia Aretino's life was a testament to resilience. A native of the city's relentless climes, she was a paragon of strength and ingenuity. Her husband, initially a beacon of charm, gradually unveiled a sinister, tyrannical side. Yet, in the face of their marriage's strife and turmoil, Livia stood steadfast, fortified by her devotion to their son, Aventus. The clarion call of war beckoned her spouse to battle, from which he never returned. His absence, though a respite from his torment, thrust upon Livia the full weight of single parenthood. The fiscal and emotional burdens were formidable, but her resolve to forge a brighter future for Aventus never wavered. By day, Livia's reputation as a skilled seamstress brought her modest renown; her adeptness with needle and thread was no secret, though it yielded scant compensation. The nights found her undertaking additional labors, enduring the docks' frigidity or serving as a barmaid. In the face of adversity, she remained stoic before Aventus, eschewing her comforts to provide for his sustenance and warmth. Her sacrifice and unwavering affection knew no bounds.

Laboring at the docks proved to be an arduous task. The male workers often treated her with disregard, occasionally displaying outright hostility, perceiving her as a vulnerable outlet for their vexations. Unwelcome advances and vulgar remarks were common, which Livia had to silently tolerate. Her discomfort was palpable in her tightened jaw and averted gaze, yet she understood the necessity of enduring these conditions to support Aventus. Despite the prolonged, frigid nights and physically demanding labor, Livia's determination remained unshaken. In Windhelm, a city unforgiving to women, and even more so to a Nord like Livia, the threat of the Butcher loomed—a feared assassin targeting women, casting a shadow of dread over her already challenging existence. Each evening, as she journeyed home from the docks, her eyes scanned her environment vigilantly, ever cautious of any hint of peril. Windhelm was a city facing decline.

Under the rule of Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak, it had transformed into a nexus of tension and unrest. Ulfric's inflexible stance and fervent nationalism fostered a divided community, favoring Nords while marginalizing Elves, especially the Dark Elves. The Gray Quarter, predominantly inhabited by Dark Elves, had become synonymous with poverty and neglect. The Thalmor's interference in Skyrim's affairs exacerbated the strife, intensifying the vilification and mistreatment of all Elven races. Livia's paramount concern centered on the welfare of her son, Aventus. She was well aware that Honorhall Orphanage, overseen by the notorious Grelod the Kind, was an unsuitable environment for any child. Rumors of Grelod's severe disciplinary methods instilled fear in Livia for Aventus's well-being should he be consigned to her care.

In spite of these adversities, the bond between Livia and Aventus only strengthened. She became his mentor, teaching him literacy and instilling values of compassion and fortitude. Aventus, in turn, held profound admiration for his mother, cognizant of her unyielding sacrifices. He pledged to remain steadfast for her, in defiance of all hardships. Over time, the cumulative strain of Livia's two occupations, coupled with the severe climate of Windhelm, began to manifest in her well-being. Signs of exhaustion and continuous coughing emerged, yet she persevered, resolute in her commitment to her duties. Livia's daily routine was taxing. She would awaken before the break of day, feeling the toll of her physical exertions from the day before. After preparing a modest meal for Aventus, typically bread and broth, she would depart for her job as a seamstress. The task demanded precision and focus, but Livia found satisfaction in her skilled handiwork, aware that each piece she crafted contributed to a brighter future for her child.

In the face of her unforgiving surroundings, Livia found comfort during the times she spent with Aventus. In the evenings, they would gather, illuminated by the glow of a lone candle, as Livia recounted tales of valorous heroes and virtuous acts, aiming to foster a spirit of optimism and bravery within him. Aventus, captivated, would absorb every word, his respect for his mother intensifying with each story shared. As Livia's health waned, her concerns for Aventus's future intensified.

During an evening spent in shared reading, Livia gazed at Aventus with a heart burdened by unspoken sorrows. In a gentle tone, she implored, "Aventus, you must vow something to me." Lifting his gaze from the pages before him, Aventus met her eyes, a look of worry etching his features. "What do you ask of me, Mother?"

"Swear to me that regardless of the trials you may face, your strength will remain unyielded. Your courage and compassion mark you as a boy of great promise, and it is certain you will mature into a man of virtue. However, you must guard against allowing the world's shadows to extinguish your inner radiance." With a grave nod, Aventus affirmed, "I give you my word, Mother. For your sake, I shall uphold my strength." A smile graced Livia's lips, a bittersweet reflection of her inner turmoil. As her time dwindled, solace was found in the assurance that her son would perpetuate the legacy of benevolence and fortitude she had nurtured within him.

Livia's existence was marked by an unyielding cycle of toil and self-denial. The winter in Windhelm brought a particularly brutal cold that penetrated every part of the city. Each day brought its own set of struggles as she endeavored to provide for herself and her family.

The city's economy was in a precarious state. With food supplies dwindling and prices on the rise, the military personnel were prioritized, often leaving the civilians with little. This scarcity made it exceedingly difficult for Livia to care for her son Aventus, forcing her to stretch their limited food supply. Frequently, she would sacrifice her own meal to ensure Aventus ate well.

Financially, Livia was under constant duress. The income from her tailoring and nocturnal jobs was insufficient for even the most basic expenses. She managed her finances with meticulous care, yet there was nothing spare for unforeseen expenses. The escalating cost of living only intensified the pressure she faced.

At the market, Livia would often encounter desperate people bartering and begging for food. The atmosphere was tense, with vendors growing increasingly protective of their goods. Livia would haggle for better prices, though it rarely made a difference. She could see the fear in the eyes of other mothers, the same fear that gnawed at her every day.

On a particularly chilly evening, Livia arrived home to discover Aventus by the fireplace, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. As she entered, he bounded over. "Mother, you're back!" he cried out, his voice brimming with relief. Livia offered a faint smile and tousled his hair. "Hello, my boy. How was your day? Keeping out of mischief?"

"Yes, Mother, I avoided trouble, had a good day, and I missed you." Aventus said, his eyes gleaming with enthusiasm. "Today, I watched the soldiers. They were parading their weapons. It was incredible! Can you imagine the size of their swords?"

Livia's face clouded with concern, haunted by memories of her husband. She understood the true nature of those soldiers and the brutality of their swords. "Aventus, promise me you'll steer clear of those soldiers. You understand, don't you?"

Confusion clouded Aventus' face, his earlier excitement dimming. "But Mother, they appeared so valiant and honorable. Why am I forbidden to speak with them?"

Livia's tone was unwavering, laced with a mix of fear and ire. "Keep your distance from them, Aventus. You're not to go near them again, understand? No!"

Perplexity furrowed Aventus' brow, his innocence grappling with comprehension. "But why, Mother? What have they done?"

With a measured inhale, Livia sought to temper her rising emotions. "They aren't the heroes you believe them to be, Aventus. They pose a threat, and my wish is to keep you safe. Promise me you'll steer clear of them."

Aventus nodded hesitantly; his enthusiasm subdued. "I promise, Mother. But I still don't understand—why?"

Livia sighed, pulling him into a gentle motherly embracing hug. "One day, you will understand. For now, just trust me and stay away from them."

As Livia embraced Aventus, her thoughts turned to the soldiers and their resemblance to her late husband—their commanding presence and the ease with which they shifted from affable to intimidating. She was determined to shield Aventus from their influence; to preserve the sanctuary she had built for him away from such a life. Aventus gave another nod, his confusion lingering. She was resolute in her belief that distancing him from the soldiers was a crucial shield against the stark truths of their existence.

Livia harbored strong sentiments regarding the Imperial soldiers, equating them with the Stormcloaks in her eyes. Her previous marriage to a Stormcloak soldier had indelibly colored her perception of any man in uniform, instilling a profound resentment that was difficult to dispel. The oft-repeated pledges of valor and honor had been shattered too frequently for her to hold any credence in them. To her, every soldier, irrespective of their faction, represented a potential harbinger of anguish and treachery. Such mistrust originated from her awareness that power, however honorably presented, had the capacity to corrupt and devastate. The uniforms, be they blue or red, merged into a grim tapestry of her history. The acrimony she bore towards these soldiers weighed heavily upon her each day, reinforcing her resolve to shield Aventus from their sway.