Daughter to Dragons- a Skyrim inspired fantasy

Chapter Three- Like Father, Like Daughter

I cursed the shopkeeper who sold me this armor without a helm.  I would have to trust that my long hair would provide adequate coverage for me.  Certainly the Thalmor would not be looking at someone with a nearly full set of armor at this time.

Rhythe and I made our way through the marketplace towards the old keep.  We passed two patrolling Thalmor agents but they did not seem to recognize us.  The art of blending in is a trait that the Dark Brotherhood taught us.  It has come in handy more times than I can count.

“Fresh fish!  Get your fresh fish here!” one man shouted, shoving a dead trout in my face.  I paid him no mind as I pushed ahead towards the keep.  I heard him grunt something unintelligible to his friend before continuing his campaign.

“Sometimes, hiding works best when everyone can see you, Amelsa”, my father used to tell me during my training.  “It’s all about moving with the crowd and being just one of the people in it.  If you look like you belong, no one will even notice you.”  I spotted a woman selling dresses at a stand to my right.  To my left, a pair of Thalmor soldiers and their Justiciar.  I stopped in front of the stand, inspecting the woman’s wares.

“Hello, milady”, the old woman said with a grin.  “Can I interest you in one of my fine dresses?  These are the best you will find in all the Hold!”

 I smiled kindly back at her.  “I’m sure they are”, I replied as I watched the Thalmor pass out of the corner of my eye.  If you look like you belong, no one will even notice you.  My fingers ran over the soft material of the blue cotton dress.  The corset looked to be made of freshly tanned leather.  I held it up, inspecting the size.  It looked to be my fit.  There would be no time to have it measured.  I would just have to trust that it fits decently and have it tailored at another time.

“That is a beautiful dress”, the old woman cooed.  “It is one of the newly made ones, too.  Very fine work.”

“How much?” I asked as I pulled out my coinpurse.

“Ten septims.”

“Three,” I haggled.

“Five.”

“Deal.”  I handed her five septims and stuffed the dress in my knapsack.  One task for the day had been accomplished.

When the Keep was in sight, I shot a look back to Rhythe, who had been trailing far behind me during our journey.  He tilted his head forward before returning to whatever a man was trying to sell him.  I entered the keep.  The dust and dirt from the walls hung in the air.  It was difficult to keep from coughing.  This was why I did not care for dungeon delving.  Too dusty.  A couple of Helgen guards were sleeping on their cots.  A few were awake—talking, eating, or dressing themselves.

I spied the door at the back of the room.  It was shut, likely locked.  But a key hung on a hook to the side of it.  I glided across the floor, silent as a mouse, despite the heavy armor.  When I reached to take the key off the hook, one of the guards stood up.

“What are you doing?” he asked suspiciously.  “Who are you?”

A thousand scenarios ran in my head about what I would say next.  Only one scenario played out the best.  I prayed to the Nine that it would work.

“Did you hear me, girl?  I asked you who you were.”  He gripped his hand around the hilt of his steel sword.

I glared coldly at them.  “My name is Amelsa Dragontooth, daughter of Owain Dragontooth, the Last Dragonborn.”  Their jaws dropped at my revelation.  “The Thalmor have sent agents after me to keep me from reaching Windhelm.  I have revealed myself to you in hopes that you will recognize what my father did to help this town—this world—and that you might repay him by helping me.”