The Dark Brotherhood

5: Aiden

Aiden shifted for the hundredth time, frowning as he failed to remove the pressure of the hard root behind his back. He was exhausted.
He'd been tracking the Emperor's assassin for days now, and her relentless pace was taking a toll on him. He'd managed to memorize her general schedule- she'd ride for two hours, then dismount and walk her horse for an hour, and continue the cycle until just before night fell, when she set up camp and slept for about six hours. And then, she'd wake up, strike camp, and continue her merciless cycle. Wherever she was headed, she needed to be there fast.
And so here he was, laying on some very uncomfortable roots, and trying to squeeze in as much sleep as he could before the six hour limit was over. He'd barely had time to eat each day, plus the constant sleep depravity as well as tension over who he was tracking. As far as he knew, she was unaware of his presence, but she could very well know he was there and be toying with him.
Aiden put an arm behind his head and looked into the starry heavens. The moon had just risen over the hills, and was just as huge and etherial as ever. It was the kind of moon that brought up memories of one's days as a child, and Aiden could see his former self, running around his mother with scraped knees and a wooden sword. He was always on some kind of adventure with his four brothers and his father.
Sometimes they'd explore the woods behind the farm, other times they'd go scavenging at the bottom of a river or lake, hunting for deer, or stargazing. When he thought about it, Aiden realized that they never really did any of the chores they probably should have. He chuckled and closed his eyes, visions of his family farm dancing behind his eyelids.
"Good catch, Aiden!" a strong voice said triumphantly. The little boy he was addressing grinned proudly, holding up the enormous fish he'd just caught.
"Yeah! Great job, little brother!" another boy with red hair shouted. His line was still in the water, and was completely unmoving. The other boys, each younger than Aiden, crowded their older brother and cheered at the silvery fish on his line.
"Thanks, Geran!" Aiden shouted over the din at his only older brother. Geran grinned, giving his little brother a thumbs-up.
"Can we eat it for dinner, Aiden?" the youngest, Caril, asked. His little green eyes were lit with intense hope, and his mouth was obviously watering. Aiden looked at his father, momentarily studying him. He was tall, with the usual thick jawline that was native to Nords, and extremely muscular. He had long blonde hair, which was braided several times and pulled back into a pony tail, and twinkling blue eyes that always had a look of adventure in them. He returned his son's gaze and gave a bark of laughter.
"Of course we can eat it! It's a fish, isn't it?" he stated. Each of the boys cheered in unison, and marched Aiden off to the house to deliver the large catch to their mother.
Aiden had been only seven, then. They were much simpler times- before the dragons, before the Stormcloak rebellion, before fighting for real. His mother and father had been happy corn farmers just within the borders of Falkreath Hold. Aiden had never gone hungry, though his family was not by any stretch rich. He'd only ever known days of laying in the sun, playing knights with his brothers, and running aimlessly through their land, tracking creatures and fishing to his heart's desire.
As the thoughts filled his mind in the present, Aiden drifted into sleep, and eventually his consciousness stirred up some memories of his younger days as well- back to the days when he'd dreamt of joining the army.
"Aiden!" shouted a little voice. Aiden smirked and whipped around, holding out his small wooden sword toward the voice. It was his little brother, Ferril. The little boy giggled, dancing away into the forest. "You can't catch me!" he yelled excitedly. Aiden chuckled and ran after him. Even at the age of seventeen, he still loved playing these games with his brothers.
He'd grown taller, and age had been kind to him- forming his boyish face into a more mature, handsome face which showed the slight signs of his Nordic heritage. His once brown hair had become a strawberry blonde color, and had grown a little longer than it had been. His arms and shoulders had become muscular from helping his mother and father around the farm, and his face usually held a mischievous expression.
He was stronger, faster, and smarter than he'd ever been. He certainly seemed to be at the peak of health in life, a perfect example of elation at its finest. He never had anything to worry about- that is, until his father fell deathly ill.
When he was only the age of seventy, Aiden's father passed away, and entered the realm of Sovngarde as an ex- war hero. He left behind his aging wife, and his many sons- all of which were still in their teens or lower. It was a dark day for the household.
Aiden was awakened from his dream by the sound of a horse's whinny. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, feeling the full force of the day before's fatigue and exhaustion hit him like a boulder. He sighed, stretching his arms and legs, and stood to mount his steed. Another day in the life of a soldier.
And so he rode on, determined to capture the assassin.
But she knew full well he was there.