Dark Wings in the Cold

3: Riverwood

I stumbled through the street at Ralof's side, failing to match his stride with my frozen feet. Several guards eyed us with surprise as we passed through the gate.

"Gerdur, set a chair by the hearth! Your cousin has arrived half-frozen!" He put his arm around me convincingly and steered me towards a modest wooden cottage. One of the shutters flew open as he hollered and a fair-haired young woman leaned outside.

"Come inside and warm yourselves! My poor cousin mustn't catch the Rattles!" She ducked back inside of the home. A moment later, she shoved open a heavy wooden door and stood back to allow us to pass.

The familiar smell of charred wood and spiced apples summoned a memory of my first home in Blacklight. I stumbled forward, my eyes clouded with tears, as Gerdur took my hand and guided me to a chair by the fire. Someone wrapped a blanket around my shoulders, and I buried my face into it.

I had never been required to help my mother in the kitchen. After father succumbed to illness, I ran and played in the woods with Wuunrik. Together we received lessons of diplomacy and hunting as well as lessons of counting and writing. Never once did I peel an apple or sift flour for bread.

When my Uncle brought me inside to my mother, bleeding and sobbing, with pain in my face and my arms, my mother screamed. She took me into her arms and cried as she lightly pressed a wet cloth against my face. The salt of my tears burned at the corner of my eye where the wolf's claws had missed blinding me by the smallest measure. I cried again when I stole a glance in the reflection of a polished cooking pot and saw the wolf's ugly mark dragging across my cheek.

I was forbidden to play outside with Wuunrik, and learned to peel and spice apples while he learned to hunt wolves.

"Aldria."

I withdrew from my memory and lifted my head to meet Gerdur's gaze. She was blond and fit with intense eyes. Her forehead wrinkled with concern as she knelt down near my feet, examining the stiff wrappings on my feet.

"Ralof told me that you were captured at the border and taken to Helgen with the other prisoners. Yet, you do not have the hardness of a warrior." As she unwrapped my feet, they began to tingle with sensation. I gasped at the pain when she squeezed my foot, sending heat crawling up my leg.

She waved one hand at Ralof, who uncrossed his arms and ducked through the doorway leading to another room.

"You have frostbite. This will hurt until the potion takes effect." She turned, accepting a bucket of steaming water from Ralof, who then retreated to a seat across the table.

"Why have you come to Skyrim?"

I pulled the blanket tightly around myself, as if it could protect me. "I have travelled here to find protection. My father was the ambassador to Morrowind, and then my Uncle when he died. My uncle was murdered, and I came with my cousin, in fear of meeting the same fate."

Gerdur looked surprised. "Did you not know of the uprising? The timing of your uncle's death, and Ulfric's challenge to the High King..."

"No. We fled before we had any chance of hearing of it. When we reached the border, we were attacked. In the chaos, I lost my cousin, Wuunrik. I was born here, yet I have no known friends here. I thought that I was going to die when we were taken from the cart, but that monster stopped the execution."

Her eyes flicked towards Ralof, but she said nothing. Instead, she looked down at the potion as it trickled into the hot water.

I took the silence as an opportunity to question Ralof. "Why was there an ambush? Why were they planning to kill you without an audience with the Jarl?"