That's Madness (a Skyrim fanfiction)

Chapter Six - Mourning Never Comes

That evening I lay awake in bed, staring up at the ceiling. I'm going to have a hard time getting to Markarth and back to Whiterun in the space of a day. It's impossible. I barely managed to ride to Whiterun from Windhelm in the space of three hours. Markarth is at least a full day away of riding. With taking breaks for resting and eating, it would mean a night on the side of the road. So I'm stuck here.

I roll over and try to come up with a plan. If I left in the morning, I could reach Old Hroldan inn by nightfall. Then the next day it would take me two hours, roughly, to get to Markarth. It won't take me very long to speak to the contract in Markarth. Then I can leave and I can maybe reach Rorikstead by the time the sun sets. Then a three/four hour ride from Rorikstead back to Whiterun. I wouldn't ever be able to get away with it.

My dreams are strange. I see the city of Bravil (in Cyrodiil) burning and a woman tries to defend a coffin. Then I see the city of Cheydinhal facing a similar threat. I wake up sweating and I grimace. I hate sweat.

I drag myself out of bed and comb out my curly blonde hair, trying to tame it into submission. I slip into my leather armour and I head downstairs into the kitchen. Lydia is sat at the table, staring into her cup of warm milk.

"Morning," I sit next to her. There's a bowl of apples on the table and I help myself to one of them.

"Good morning," Lydia sighs.

"What's wrong?" I ask her.

"Stormcloak soldiers. They took most of the crops from the farm and didn't pay for it," Lydia says angrily. "Ever since Ulfric retook The Pale a few weeks ago my mother's been threatened because she's an Altmer and so has father because he's Imperial. They're facing eviction from home. I'm sorry, I shouldn't really be telling you this,"

"I'm so sorry. Ulfric's a spoiled and whiny bastard...he'll get what's coming to him," I try to reassure her. "Is there anywhere for your family to go?"

"They're thinking about moving to Riverwood. Rent out a room in the inn and work in the lumber mill. It won't work, my father is too old and my mother too weak," Lydia clenched her fists. "Damn Ulfric! Damn him and his stupid rebellion!"

"Tell your parents to come here," I offer. "They can have my room. I'll sleep in Blaise and Lucia's room,"

I won't enjoy it, but they need the room far more than me. Besides, I trust the two of them not to go through my things. And I won't be at home for much longer because soon I'll talk to my parents about moving and 'making my own way'.

"Oh, Maryse, no. You don't need to do that," Lydia shakes her head.

"Lydia, you've done so much for our family. Besides, like you said, your parents wouldn't be able to live in Riverwood. Let them come here. Blaise and Lucia are perfectly well-behaved and Whiterun is a nice city," I insist. "Honest. I don't mind,"

Lydia smiles at me. "I'll talk to your mother. It is her house. Bless you Maryse, gods know what we did to deserve someone like you,"

I look down at my hands. Someone like me? I slaughtered an old beggar in his bed and a crazed and paranoid recluse in the wilds...not to mention the three victims in the shack in Hjaalmarch a while ago.

I leave Breezhome and I spend an hour shooting arrows with Aela and the new Bosmer, whose name is Mariana. It's a very un-Bosmeri name but whatever. It's obviously a fake name but it isn't my business.

"Mother," I say to my mother as she comes out of Jorrvaskr.

"Yes?" she asks wearily. Blaise is rushing around the courtyard, shooting frost at Lucia. Lucia is swinging a mace around crazily. I take back what I said about them being well-behaved. "Both of you stop before I Shout you all the way to High Hrothgar!" mother snaps at them.