A Dragonborn by any other name

Just another day in Whiterun

Breathe.

Embrace the shadows and they won't see you.

Breathe.

They're building a pyre, how many bodies.

Breathe.

Where are the others? Where is Lucia?

Breathe.

Sumerset, gone, Vvanderfall, taken by the Tong, High Rock, Black Marsh, all the shadowscales, dead, Cyrodill, the heart, the Lucky Old Lady, defiled, Elseweyr, her own home, the bodies the pyre.

Breathe.

Draw the dagger, silently. Vengeance, no-one crosses the brotherhood.

Breathe.

The smoke, billowing, a dark cloud across the jungle.

Breathe.

A touch of metal, blood, a scream.

Gwen's scream in her dream, nightmare, was enough to wake the whole house, which she apologised endlessly for. Corinthe was gone, as was all her Dark brothers and sisters but her only blood relative, who was now missing. She left the small village but hours later, heading off down the road to Whiterun with a message. The town was visible over the plains as she heard the sound of fighting breaking out. She drew her sword and raced off, not being the master of subterfuge fighting like her sister. The giant was finally fallen, with a sword to the hamstring, but the girl was gone before she could be spoken to.

She pulled up the hood she had taken from the mages' body in Helgen, leaving her face in shadow. The guard stopped her at the gate but a quick word… and the mention of Helgen and she was in the city. She looked up the hill toward the castle, before sighing. She didn't want to go face another puffed up, pompous fool who would think he had authority over her. Instead she headed straight ahead, catching sounds of a market on the wind as it gusted. She browsed, selling the few things she didn't need, and took notice of where the general goods store and alchemist were, in case she needed to do a little… 'shopping' later.

Heading into the inn, Gwen leaned on the counter, smiling readily. She opened her purse. "A drink please. And any news if you could." The woman wiping the bar propped her chin in her elbow.

"Depends what you want to know."

"Any bounties? Rumours?" The innkeepers were always a good source of gossip, and often there were bounties there for adventurers.

"Jarl's men dropped this off the other day. Giant been attacking farms in the area. As for rumours…" her voice dropped, and she leaned closer. "They say the Thieves Guild has its headquarters in Riften, city of scum that is." She almost spat the words and Gwen filed the information away in her mind for later. After a few hours of listening to the bard's songs, the picking of a few pockets, and a hired bed later, Gwen sat, and pulled her amulet out from under her clothes. The red gem pulsed softly, and she ran her fingers over it's many-faceted face. If she listened carefully, she could almost hear a soft singing, and she still wasn't sure whether that had always been part of the stories of not. Of course she knew what she held, and why she held it, but she WASN'T an Empress. She was a person who preferred to melt into the shadows than stand in the sun. She didn't think anyone would appreciate having someone with her… tendencies as their ruler. Anyway. It was time to sleep, and sleep she would, and deal with this dragon business in the morning.