Mortal (Book 3)

Chapter 6

"Sofie, I need you to take care of your—" I hesitate on the word "sister" because I don't know if she'll be living with us from now on. Not that I could even consider sending her away, but it's exceedingly hard to tell if she's happy with us or not. Some days she shakes her hands wildly for hours on end and has to have everything said to her repeated at least three times, other days it's like she can't understand a word anyone says and gets too frustrated to do anything but cry. I was worried that perhaps she was deaf, so I took her to Danica hoping there was something that could be done for her.

Danica stared into her little brown eyes for a few minutes, then reached out to touch her cheek despite my warnings. Lucia responded with a loud shriek that rang through the high ceilings of the temple.
After pulling me aside, Danica spoke to me in hushed, saddened tones.
"I can assure you she hears you just fine." She tells me.
"Then what's wrong? Can you heal her?"
"No, I'm afraid not. What Lucia has... It cannot be healed by any means I know of. Believe me, I've tried. There's not really any name for it, she just sometimes doesn't... Doesn't understand when people speak to her I suppose, or maybe doesn't understand what certain things mean. She'll have a lot of trouble telling you how she feels and what she wants." Danica explained.
"Does anyone even know what it is exactly?" I ask desperately.
"No, it's... rare. It's not that she's without intelligence, I'd actually wager she's very smart for her age. My brother was like Lucia. When I became a healer, I tried so hard to help him... But it just doesn't work that way. Sometimes I wondered if it was something to be helped, or perhaps just worked around." She told me.
"I don't understand. What's wrong with her?" I ask, shaking my head. Danica sighs and looks back to Lucia, who stares blankly at the wall.
"All you really need to understand is that she needs your help, and your patience."

"Your sister. I need you to take care of your sister for a few days, I have to go to Riften." I finish. Sofie looks up at me in shock at the word "sister," and surprisingly, so does Lucia. "Lydia will cook for you and make sure you both get to bed on time; don't even think of staying out late or leaving the gates alone." I explain to her. I lean down to kiss Sofie's cheek. "I love you. I'll be back soon." I take a few cautious steps toward Lucia, and gently touch her hand. To my surprise she doesn't scream or snatch her hand away. "Be good." I tell her simply.

~

As I'm making my way down the steps, I round a corner and suddenly see a guard at the door. I stick my nose up and ignore him; most guards bow their heads at just a glance of my face.
"No citizens beyond this point." The guard mumbles.
"Excuse me, soldier?" I ask, as if I didn't hear him. The guard's heavy head rolls up to look at me, his watery eyes peeking at me through the holes in his steel helmet. I pull up the sleeve of my shirt, exposing the five lines tattooed around my bicep. He squints at them, then suddenly straightens up and fumbles with his keys to unlock the door.
"A-apologies, Stormblade.. Didn't— Didn't recognize—" he stutters, holding the door open as I pass through.
The prison stinks of rotting meat and human waste, and it somewhat reminds me of the infirmary tents at our Stormcloak camps, only not as bad. The smell of so many festering wounds isn't one I could really forget.
Throughout the war, we lacked the necessary Battle Maiden healers to stay at each camp, so we had a team of them that traveled between them. However, there was often too much work to be done wherever they went. All the injured were forced to wait, which was almost unbearable for the rest of the camp as well. We could hear their groans of pain through the night, and smell their wounds when we passed their tent. Eventually, when I couldn't take anymore, I resorted to healing them myself. It was exhausting work. I'm by no means a professional or a priestess, but it kept some of them alive long enough. At Galmar's insistence, I had a large circle tattooed on the back of my hand, the symbol of the Battle Maiden rank. As far as I know, I'm the only Stormcloak with both markings.
I continue down the steps into the lower levels of the prison, barely noticing the stench. I peak into the cells at the various prisoners as I pass, pretending not to notice their glares. They don't have to know my name or anything about the war to know I'm different from them; I'm not even wearing nice clothes and they can tell.
Finally, I come to the cell I'm looking for. A Dunmer man sits on the bed in his cell, staring at the wall.
"Brand-Shei?" I ask. He turns his head to the side, only halfway looking at me.
"Need something?" He asks.
"I have something for you, I think you've been looking for it." I explain. He finally turns to face me, then squints at me.
"Who are you?" He asks.
"Someone mentioned to me you were looking for information about your birth family. I found this in a shipwreck off the northern coast, it has your name in it. Seems to be a journal of some type." He suddenly stands and steps to the iron bars of his cell, and very carefully takes the weather-beaten journal from my hands, turning through its wispy pages.
"House Telvanni... I knew it." He mumbles after a few minutes of reading, his red eyes welling with great tears. "Where did you— never mind that. Who are you? How can I repay you?" He asks.
"No one, just a friend." I tell him as I walk back up the stairs.
Waiting at the top of the stairs, a hooded man in dark leather armor stands, leaning against the door facing. I try to ignore him, but when I pass him he grabs my arm firmly. Within seconds I have a dagger pressed to his throat, thinking only of the man who tried to kill Sofie.
"Woah, woah.. Easy lass.." He chokes softly. Now with his bright green eyes and fiery hair showing from under the hood, I recognize him.
Brynjolf.
Not a threat, just annoying. I sigh and sheath my dagger.
"What do you want?" I ask.
"Nice to see you again too, lass. Been a while." He purrs, taking a step closer.
"Fortunately." I grumble.
"Why so cold? I know you've got a warm heart underneath all that armor after seeing that little display, lass." He says, pressing his thumb and index finger to my chin as he leans in even farther. I swat his rough hand away, but this doesn't seem to faze him in the slightest.
"What are you talking about? It's only fair after putting an innocent man in jail." I defend, folding my arms.
"Guilty, much? It's just as well; Perhaps you're not as cut out for my line of work as I thought. I did hear about you digging around in the Ratway though, looking for that old man. Brought quite a few Thalmor sniffing around, too." He says.
"And it's some sort of compensation you're after?" I ask him. "That's rich, coming from a thief." He laughs, leaning his head back on the wood pillar behind him.
"I think we both know that you are not the petty thief that I mistook you for when we first met. My most sincere apologies, your majesty." He says, bowing deeply and dramatically.
"I won't ask again, Brynjolf. Get to the point."
"I'm only saying you've got friends in high places, I've got them in low ones. If you ever need anything that you don't exactly want to pay for, you know who to ask."
"So, you'd like to get out from under Maven Black-Briar's thumb by getting under mine?" I scoff. Everyone knows that Maven, the owner of the most successful meadery in Skyrim, is the true power behind the Thieves Guild.
"Personally, I'd get under you anytime if I weren't taken, lass," He says; I scowl at him as my face turns red. "But as for the Guild, we're... under new management down in the Ratway, and she doesn't tolerate Maven nearly as well as her predecessor did. In the future I think she'd prefer less of a sponsor and more of a partnership."
"And I suppose your 'new management' sent you here to harass me?" I ask.
"To extend an invitation. She understands that someone such as yourself would take quite a blow to their reputation if your association with us got out; I promise, we can be quite discreet." He insists. I consider his offer carefully. Crime has been up in the past few months, across all holds. Ulfric and I assumed it was growing pains from the rebellion; transfer of power, new guards, people feeling safer and letting their guards down. Perhaps the Thieves Guild has risen back to power, all under our noses. It'll be good for me to at least have an ear to their door, so I at least know what they're planning.
"Perhaps I'll think about it. Maybe I'll come up with a task, so that you or our employer can prove your worth. Fair?" I ask.
"Fair enough, lass." He says with a smirk, walking down towards the jail.