Chapter Text
I let out a deep sigh as the gate guards firmly informed me I couldn’t leave the city again. “I’m sorry, my lady, but your father was very clear. You’re not to leave the city without an escort.” The words felt like chains tightening around me. “This is unbelievable. I’m trapped in my own city!” My frustration bubbled to the surface as I glanced past them to where my friends stood waiting just beyond the enormous stone gate.
“Don’t be like that. I will be back before he knows it,” I insisted, my voice tinged with desperation as I imagined the adventure that awaited me. “All I want, Torlof, is to bring some deer back for his mother. It’s just beyond the wall! I promise to stay close.” I tried to reason with them, but they remained unmoved, their expressions resolute.
Being the daughter of the Jarl certainly had its perks—exceptional training, privileges, and respect—but it also came with suffocating restrictions. I was tired of feeling like a fragile bird caged within the stone walls of Windhelm. I charged forward, hoping to slip past them, but they blocked my path with practised ease.
“Ember, what are you doing?” a familiar voice called from behind. I turned to see my father’s steward, a tall, stern man who acted as the voice of reason. “Nothing,” I replied quickly, my heart racing as I jumped to my feet, trying to mask my rebellious intent.
A heavy silence hung in the air as I was escorted back to the palace. The moment we stepped inside the cold, ancient structure, I felt the weight of my father’s gaze upon me. I could already sense the lecture brewing; it felt like thunder rolling in across the sky. “You know the rule. You can’t leave unless Galmar goes with you,” he began solemnly, his voice echoing off the stone walls. I braced myself for the familiar back-and-forth.
“I wasn’t going to go far, just outside the city,” I pleaded, fighting to keep my voice steady. “I’m twenty! I’m an adult! You can’t keep me locked away forever!” I shouted, the frustration spilling over, fueled by waves of pent-up yearning. I could see my father’s expression harden, but I pressed on, desperate.
“I can and I will,” he replied firmly. “You’re my daughter, and I will not let the outside world taint you.” His stern tone softened slightly as he continued, “Ember, it’s because I love you too much to let you get hurt, or worse. Especially with the Empire lurking around—if they found out I had let you go, they might try to kidnap you.”
His words struck a chord of truth. I couldn’t deny the perilous times we lived in, with war ravaging the land. Yet, the longing for freedom swelled within me like a trapped river desperate to break free. “Okay,” I said, my voice tinged with defeat, but my mind was already whirring with a plan.
Later, as darkness wrapped around the city like a heavy cloak, I settled by my window, eager to catch a glimpse of the fading sunset. The snow blanketed the stone streets, glistening like diamonds under the dim light, as Windhelm succumbed to slumber. Time slipped by as I waited, heart racing with anticipation. Earlier, I had skillfully obtained the guard rota, discovering a window of opportunity when the gates would be unmonitored. This was my chance to explore the world beyond the walls—my chance to embrace life.
With careful precision, I climbed out of my window, a makeshift rope in hand. My father had commissioned custom ebony armour for me that gleamed softly in the dusk, along with a sword and bow that felt just right in my hands. I had also packed a bag with camping supplies, food, and a good amount of coins—everything I would need to navigate the wilds.
As I crept through the city’s silent streets, I moved cautiously, acutely aware of the shadows cast by the flickering torches. Sneaking around seemed so much more glamorous in the adventure novels I’d read. Each creak of the cobblestones underfoot sent my heart racing. Finally, I reached the gate, just as I had calculated it would be unguarded.
Pushing past the iron-studded wooden door, I dashed toward the stables, where my beloved horse awaited me. “Storm,” I whispered, stroking his silken mane as I mounted him. Just as I was about to ride off into the blanket of night, I heard the distant shouts of guards cut through the stillness. “Shit,” I muttered under my breath, adrenaline coursing through my veins.
With one firm flick of the reins, I urged Storm forward, galloping away from the confines of Windhelm. The rush of icy wind against my cheeks was invigorating, electrifying my spirit with a thrill I had never known. As we thundered down the empty roads, I could feel the entire expanse of Skyrim unfurling before me like a vast, uncharted tapestry of destiny waiting to be explored. This was my moment of freedom; I would seize it with both hands.
It wasn’t long before I reached Riften, a sight to behold as autumn had painted the landscape in vibrant shades of red and gold. Scattered leaves crunched underfoot, and the sky shimmered with a warm, golden hue that made the scenery truly breathtaking. I tied my horse at the bustling stable, the air buzzing with activity. Just ahead, I noticed a commotion: two imposing men were locked in a heated argument, their voices rising above the din of the marketplace. But I paid them no mind, too enchanted by the charm of the city to let their quarrel distract me.
As I strolled through the cobbled streets of Riften, I couldn’t help but appreciate how different it was from the icy confines of Windhelm. The markets were alive with chatter, as vendors called out their wares and competed for attention. Colourful tents and stalls lined the streets, overflowing with everything from fresh produce to intricate jewellery.
The inn, a welcoming beacon amidst the hustle and bustle, was filled with the cheerful sounds of laughter as I pushed open the heavy wooden door. A strong aroma of ale and sweet mead wafted towards me, wrapping around me like a warm embrace. At least some things remained unchanged. I found an empty table in a cosy corner and ordered a tankard of ale while a bard plucked at his lute, his melodies weaving through the air like a gentle breeze.
Pulling out my map, I began to contemplate my next destination. I had always dreamed of visiting The Bard’s College, inspired by my father’s stories about its rich traditions and the art of storytelling. Yet, that would mean venturing deep into the Empire-controlled regions of Skyrim. Perhaps I should consider Whiterun instead; after all, it was the home of the Companions, a group as old—if not older—than the storied walls of Windhelm.
My musings were abruptly interrupted by an unwelcome voice beside me. “Well, hello, princess,” slurred a man, his speech thick with drink. I glanced over to find a man who appeared to be just a few years younger than my father, the stale scent of mead hanging heavily around him. Disgusted, I attempted to redirect my focus back to the map, hoping he would take the hint.
“Where’s a pretty thing like you been hiding?” he persisted. With an internal sigh, I realised avoiding him wouldn’t work. “Look, sir. I’m not interested,” I replied, keeping my tone calm and assertive. “Now, if you don’t mind, please bother someone else.”
As I tucked the map back into my bag, the atmosphere shifted, the tension ebbing into something more volatile. “Who do you think you are trying to boss me about?” he shouted, rising unsteadily to his feet. The display was almost comical; his swaying posture undermined his attempts at intimidation. But then he spat the word that struck a nerve deep within me: “freak.”
The sting of that word cut deeper than I expected. It echoed in my mind, a reminder of the ridicule I had faced for my peculiar silver eyes since childhood. Raising my chin defiantly, I met his gaze. “What did you call me?” I challenged, my hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of my sword.
Before he could retort, the two men who had been arguing earlier stepped in between us, their expressions a mixture of authority and caution. “Now, there’s no need to fight,” one of them stated, a measured calm in his voice. The other stood silently behind him, his imposing frame hinting at a protective instinct. I suspected they might be twins, their striking resemblance making it hard to overlook.
“I can handle this myself,” I insisted, attempting to peer around them. But the other man shot back, “Too bad. You two are causing quite a ruckus.”
Suddenly, the drunken man charged at me, and I barely had time to react. Clearing my throat to steady myself, I shouted, “Fus Ro Dah!” The powerful force of my voice erupted, sending him hurtling across the room, crashing into a table.
Seizing the moment of distraction, I quickly bolted for the exit, but the commotion had already attracted attention. It wasn’t long before the two men were close on my heels. One, clad in gleaming steel armour, lunged forward and seized me, hoisting me effortlessly over his shoulder. The other snatched my bag from the ground, and before I could protest, they marched out of the inn, dragging me out into the brisk evening air of Riften.