7 A Normal Family
Tic-Tac, the old clock swayed in the background.
The only sound one could hear beside it was the rhythmic dry scrub of a towel onto the counter. It's been 2 hours since the wood has started to shine from how clean it was, yet the owner of Windpeak Inn didn't stop.
He couldn't.
Sweat coated his fingers, and a cold aura loomed over his shoulders. Ever-so-lightly, moans of pain came from a nearby room. Its occupants, the only ones allowed into the place, were busy, it seemed.
At first, the cries were screeching, shrilling, heart-wrenching, but they quickly gave way to desperate pleas. Before long, the tied-up man was spilling all of his secrets onto the blonde woman.
She had an expressionless face as she carried on her interrogation, one contorted with shadows conjured by the fickle candle in the room. To her side, on top of an old and unassuming metal tray, metal tools and concoctions waited to be used.
Her hands were rough yet delicate at handling such utensils, a finesse that spoke of experience.
Thoring dared not to look, however. Whatever could make someone wail like that, he preferred not to know - he'd rather remain ignorant.
Ever since he had accepted the patronage of the mysterious blonde woman around two months ago, he's learned that being oblivious was for the best.
Still, it put his mind to rest to know that all his bloody deeds were worth it - without them, his daughter, Karita, wouldn't be able to go to the Bards' College.
Tic-Tac, the clock sounded again, and he broke out of his disarrayed thoughts. The bloody interrogation has come to an end, he realized, as well as the man's life - if one were to judge by the scent of gore coming from the room.
"Dispose of his body." She commanded, no room left for argument.
The Inn owner, though, didn't seem to get the memo.
"But-" He didn't even get to end his sentence.
"Do it." She said, her voice furious.
He almost stammered, surprised - she'd never sounded that angry before, ever so composed and calm. Daring to take a peek at her face, he almost passed out right then and there.
She had a snarl on her lips and a hint of fear tinging her features as well. Somehow, it felt even colder than usual, and Thoring could almost swear he saw a Daedra going out for blood.
Blood dripped from her muscled forearms, and her white cloak was tainted with the vicious color of red. It made for the visage of a rabid demon in the woods, her body language unrecognizable.
So, without any departing words, she left the Inn. Her figure shifted as she went straight for her horse, apprehension in her pace.
*
*
*
She should have known.
That the relative peace she had cultivated in Winterhold wouldn't last for long - not when her enemies were so much and her allies so few.
'I'm willing to do anything.' Her promise repeated itself in her head, and she couldn't help but curse.
'Shelter him in Winterhold, and...' The voice had said in her dreams, 'Keep him there for as long as possible. He mustn't leave.'
If only it were that easy - she couldn't remain in one place for long, not with her pursuers, and having gotten used to never staying in one location for more than a week... this, well, changed everything.
'Not until I say so.' The female voice had given the ultimatum.
For the past few months then, Lyslenne had strengthened her control within Winterhold and the Pale - its neighboring Hold - in an effort to fend off her foes. Already used to the art of subverting and political ploys, this more directional approach was new even for her.
It seemed then, unsurprisingly, that her decoys were quickly dismantled and her safety net undone. They now knew from where she was operating: Winterhold.
Tic-Tac, her time has run dry.
*
*
*
Boy and woman stared at each other, the door half-open as they searched for any clues on the other's expressions. The silence dragged on across the room, painfully slowly so.
"I'm back-" Lyslenne started but was interrupted.
"There's a frozen body." The boy said, nonchalant, "Back in the storage room."
The firewood by the hearth crackled uncomfortably, the atmosphere broken to tatters. Lyslenne regarded him for a second, her worst fears confirmed, yet she couldn't help but mutter:
"Smart."
A beat of awkward stillness followed, and the boy raised an eyebrow in response, "Really? That's your first reaction?"
Lyslenne had the decency to at least look apologetic, her eyes downcast and a crestfallen expression marring her face.
"I can explain." She offered.
"Please do, I'm all ears." He then leaned forward on his stool, waiting.
Sooner or later, it'd come to this - she would have to be a fool to believe her clean image would remain as such for long.
She sighed, resigned, then sat on a stool by the counter as well.
Her mouth opened, but she said nothing, appearing to be tasting her own words before uttering them...
"Black-Briar." She explained after a moment of silence, as if the word suddenly explained it all, "Lyslenne Black-Briar, that's my full name."
The boy merely raised an eyebrow, not understanding.
Despondent, her shoulders slumped, "The Black-Briars have pockets that run deep into Skyrim. Whatever they want can be arranged with a bit of coin."
"Then-"
She shook her head, interrupting him, "I am the black sheep of my family. Bastard daughter of my insufferable father - not much of respect to go around."
Before continuing, she snickered despite her situation, "Old fool should have left me at the orphanage, it would've been easier... Anyhow, dear sister of mine, Maven, couldn't stand the risk I posed. She couldn't do anything - that is while father was still alive. Now... well, this is the situation."
She gestured to the small and cramped shop, her face tired after years of struggle.
The firewood continued burning in the background, warmth seeping into the cold floorboards, and smoke swirling lazily in the air. The boy continued silent, however, contemplating what was said.
"I-" Hesitation was evident in her voice, yet she carried on, "I did my best to keep them away. I'm sorry."
For hiding. For putting you at risk. Lyslenne wanted to say a thousand things at once, but she wasn't one to speak her emotions very well.
"I have a few friends that can help you settle elsewhere." She spoke after a second of doubt.
'Curse me all you want. I don't care anymore.' She spoke to whoever it was that might be hearing.
After two months of taking care of him, she couldn't stomach the idea of harm coming his way because of her dirty deeds. If she were to go down, at least let it be with a clean consciousness.
Alas-
"What are you saying? Trying to get rid of me?" The boy asked, bewildered as if it was the stupidest thing she's ever said.
"You stupid?"
Silence... and then - laughter.
A low, choked-up giggle came from her, unconcerned to all problems to happen so far - not to mention anything about the frozen corpse in the back room.
It was in the soft crackle of firewood, in the smoke that twirled heavenward, that her worries were charmed away. Finally, Lyslenne felt comfortable enough to ask something she'd been meaning to for a long time.
"Sevyn." The word echoed in the room, and the boy widened his eyes.
"Sevyn Black-Briar... do you like it?" She asked.
"..."
"Yeah... I do."
