Chapter 2: Her Mother's Daughter

“I’ve never been to Solitude,” Dres said dismounting from his horse at the Solitude Stables. From where they stood they could see the magnificent spirals jutting from Blue Palace and the land bridge that led into the town.

“Neither have I,” Marceline said, though she felt as if she had been. Ironically, the capital of Skyrim far more resembled cities of Cyrodiil, with their cobblestone streets and quaint little stone houses. Solitude had the grace and civility that her other sister cities in Skyrim utterly lacked and thus was more familiar to Marceline than any of the previous keeps she had been to.

“So, what are we doing here, Thane?  You’ve been pretty mum thus far.”

She had been, and she hated keeping Dres in the dark. Some months ago, after being fobbed off by Balgruuf to the Graybeards, she had encountered Delphine, a member of the ancient order of Blades.  Delphine had charged her with raiding the Thalmor Embassy outside of Skyrim.  Marceline had thought the idea mad until Delphine assured her that the pay would equal the risk.  She had hired Dres specifically for this mission—his work in the previous weeks proved that he was more than capable of fulfilling his role as getaway. “We are here to meet the man who will get me into the Embassy.”

“Ah,” he answered raising an eyebrow at her.

“His name’s Malborn—a Wood Elf. Stay here, if you spot him signal me upon my return and I will speak him directly—don’t approach him yourself, for I’ve heard he’s easily spooked.”

“Where are you going?” Dres inquired curiously.

“D’ya see the sign ahead?” Marceline asked as she pointed to the colorful banner waving in the breeze about four shops down from where they were standing. Dres nodded. “It’s an alchemist’s sign but it’s also the sign of a perfumer.”

“Tools of your trade,” Dres laughed heartily.

“One of them,” she smiled.

“Too bad there’s no High King for you to seduce, eh?” he smirked.

“Pity,” she answered with a mock pout. “Now go be useful and get us some rooms; and try Dres, try to stay out of trouble.”

“Ay, your Grace,” Dres bowed foolishly then walked into the Winking Skeever.  Marceline then turned, slowly ambling along the cobblestone streets into the beautifully decorated store.  Angeline’s Aromatics had dried flowers and herbs of every kind hanging from the rafters; there were potions and poultices nearly pouring out of their bins though somehow the scent of the store was not overwhelming.  A small woman stood behind the counter, zealously grinding away at something in her mortar and pestle.

“Hello,” she said warmly looking up from her work as Marceline approached. “I am Angela, can I help you find something, dear?” she asked in a deep, rich Cyrodiilian accent.

“Hello, Angela, I hear you sell the finest perfumes in Skyrim. I was hoping you’d have something like this,” Marceline said as she reached into her sack and pulled out a tiny blue vial.  “I had bought this in Cheydinhal some time ago and I’m afraid I’m nearly out.”

Angela opened the vial and held it close to her nose. As she inhaled a soft smile spread across her lips. “Ah, yes, this takes me back,” she said closing her bright blue eyes.  “Timsa, vanilla, and a hint of orange…perhaps some sandalwood…Yes, yes, I think I have something like that in the back. I was just getting ready to make tea, would care to join me…?”

“Oh, forgive me madam, I am Marceline—and yes, I would be delighted,” she said following Angela back into the living quarters.  The modest room was lined with shelves filled with small colored bottles.  As Marceline looked over the delicate wares, Angela brewed a strong tea that smelled like the one her mother always drank.  She remembered that particular tea had been her mother’s pride and joy as it was imported from the mainland.  “This is lovely, Angela,” Marceline said taking a sip.

“The leaves themselves are from the Black Marsh,” Angela beamed with pride. “Though the recipe comes from Chorrol.  It’s one of the few things I brought up here with me from Cyrodiil,” she added wistfully.

“Are the perfumes Cyrodiilian as well?”

“Yes, though sadly I don’t often get requests for these types of things anymore,” Angela said pouring another cup.  “Usually it’s just healing potions and the like for the adventures or for soldier,” Angela suddenly stopped.  “Are you an adventurer, Marceline?”

“In a sense,” she smiled. 

“I don’t see many adventures dressed fine as you,” Angela laughed. “From where do you hail, child?”

“From Solstheim originally, though now I am in Whiterun. Actually, I’m Thane of Whiterun.”

Angela dropped her cup; it shattered as hit the ground. “Oh!  I’m sorry,” she exclaimed, clearly distressed.

“What is it?” Marceline asked with some concern. 

“It’s…it’s just I hadn’t really hoped to run into some who’d been there,” Angela said bending over to pick pieces.

“No, please, let me help,” Marceline said placing her hand on Angela’s shoulder as she moved in to sweep up the shattered remains.  Marceline looked up at the elderly woman, who was carefully dabbing the tears from her eyes.  She had seen that look before. “What troubles you, madam?”

“No…No, I wouldn’t want to burden you,” she stammered pensively.

“I will be burdened if you don’t tell me…please,” Marceline urged gently.

“Well,” she started hesitantly, “my daughter, Fura, was assigned to Whiterun after she joined the Imperial Army.  I…I guess I was hoping you might have met her,” Angela said, her voice hopeful.

Marceline shook her head. “No, madam, I’m sorry.” Angela shoulders sank as she heard this.  Marceline noticed how crestfallen Angela looked, then quickly added, “I’ve been traveling outside of Whiterun for some time now.  How long has Fura been stationed there?”

“A few months,” Angela sighed. “I just haven’t heard from her lately. I’ve tried talking to that Captain Aldis, but he hasn’t been any help.”

That struck Marceline as odd. “Where is this Captain Aldis?” she inquired.

“He’s usually stationed at Castle Dour, though I’ve seen him at the Winking Skeever too. Every time I or my niece Vivienne has approached him about Fura, he tells us he hasn’t heard a word, but I think he’s lying.”

“Why would he?” It seemed unlikely that a captain would lie about the girl’s whereabouts. It was more likely that he simply did not know. 

“I don’t know…and I’m not sure if he’s lying. It’s just…well, perhaps it’s just a mother’s intuition,” Angela shrugged slightly.

“Well, in any case, I’ll go to him and see what he says.” 

As Marceline turned to leave, Angela reached out and took her hand. “Thank you for this. Anything you can find out from Captain Aldis would be welcome news.”  Marceline wasn’t sure of that, but she smiled anyway. “I’ll have your perfume ready when you return,” Angela called cheerfully after her.

As she walked out of the shop, the noonday sun shone brightly in the sky. On days like this Marceline often thought of her older brother Saroyni, and now, perhaps because of the present situation, she could not force memories of him aside.  Her brother’s personality never quite matched the dreary surroundings of Raven Rock and seemed far too large to be trapped on such a tiny island.  His flamboyance and laughter belied somber undertones of his name, for he was certainly no solemn priest.  Saroyni was hardly the ideal choice for successor to the Kaushibael fortunes, but despite this or perhaps because of it he was greatly loved by Marceline and her parents; though as time wore on she remembered the fights between their father and Saroyni becoming more frequent; however, the dialogue was always the same, “You have to take more responsibility—I cannot bear this burden alone. You are the heir to all our fortunes.  We are relying on you.”    

As the battles grew in scale and frequency, the worse Saroyni behaved. Sometimes he would disappear for days at a time, drinking and carousing with the townsfolk—an unthinkable embarrassment for her tightly wound, socially conscience parents.  Occasionally small heirlooms and trinkets came up missing—then money—the family was short on coin as it was.  But through all of this he was still her brother…a god who lifted her up on his shoulders and spun around as she shrieked hysterically.  He was the one person in her life who made her laugh out loud and never reminded her to be a lady…and then one day he was gone. Marceline shut her eyes tightly, refusing to allow the memory to take hold.

Upon opening her eyes, she found herself in the practice yard of Castle Dour. Lost in thought, she had no idea how she had gotten there, but she had and standing at a distance was a man whom she assumed was Captain Aldis. “Excuse me, sir,” Marceline said walking behind the row of archers towards the tall man at the fore. “Could you tell me where I can find Captain Aldis?”

“You found him,” he said, his dark eyes glancing over at her then turning back to his soldiers. “Come on, now, lads! I want those arrows dead center! The lives of your brothers and sisters depend on it," the burly man shouted.  He then turned back to Marceline.  “Who are you?” he asked gruffly, looking beyond her.

“I am Marceline, Thane of Whiterun, and I wish to speak with you regarding Fura Morrard,” she stated firmly. Aldis visibly winced when she uttered that name. 

“You are dismissed!” he called to his men who had curiously turned to see this stranger in their midst. He then faced Marceline.  “Your Grace, please follow me,” he said bowing slightly.  Marceline followed him into Castle Dour, down the hall, past the soldiers’ quarters into a small chamber. “Can I offer you a drink?” he asked somberly, pouring one for himself.

“Yes, please,” she answered taking the glass of Colovian Brandy. “Now, what can you tell me of Fura?” She heard Aldis sigh as he pulled up a chair beside her.

“Generally posting information is strictly on a need-to-know basis,” he replied staring blankly at the stone wall, nervously brushing his large hands through his thick, black shaggy mane.

“Angela Morrard needs to know,” Marceline replied simply.

“I know,” he uttered remorsefully. “I just…I just couldn’t bring myself to tell her. I’ve known ‘em most my life,” he said pouring them both another glass of brandy.  He had been hitting the bottle heavily ever since he learned about Fura’s fate.

“Tell me about her,” Marceline asked sympathetically, looking Aldis directly in the eyes. They were blood shot and grief stricken.  Surely this had not been a case of a captain too cowardly to tell a bereft mother of her beloved child’s fate. There was something more to this story.

“She was a spirited lass, with long flowing red locks,” he started, though didn’t add the description of Fura’s full lips or the soft, smooth skin of her breast.  “We came up together here.  Her dad was an officer in the army.  Ever since his death she swore she’d join the ranks. When Torygg was shouted to death by that bloody Stormcloak, there was no stopping her. Nothing that I or her mother said mattered.”

“What happened, Aldis?” This time she poured the brandy.

“Fura was sent to Whiterun. For the past month or so the skirmishes have been increasingly violent,” he recollected taking a deep breath.  Aldis closed his eyes as he continued, “The Whiterun legate needed to know Stormcloak’s positions so he sent out a scouting party…they were attacked by a large force...none of them made it back,” Aldis then stopped to wipe the tears from his watering eyes.  They were both quiet for a time then Aldis added. “I’ve been avoiding Angela, though I know she needs to hear the truth; it’s just…I made me promise to her that I’d keep her daughter safe.”

“That’s not a promise you could have kept, Captain. You had no control over the legate or where he decided send her.”

“She shouldn’t have been there at all!” he shouted in a passion. “The battlefield is no place for a bloody woman; and she on field thinking she was some kind of shield-maiden!” he laughed bitterly. “She was meant to be with me in Solitude.  But she’s gone now and I can’t even bring myself to tell her mother.”

“I will tell her, Aldis,” Marceline said, as she rose slowly—the brandy clearly had gotten to her. “And I will convey your sorrow at her loss.”

He stood, reaching for something in his breast pocket. “Here,” Aldis said handing her a worn piece of parchment. “There were two letters found on her body,” he choked on those last words. “This one is to her mother.”  He then reached around his neck exposing a small golden chain.   Dangling from a chain was a tiny blue ring.  “I think this was Angela’s. Fura had given me this before she left.”

“Then it is yours,” Marceline said resting her hand over his. “I will give the letter to Angela directly,” she said, then turned to leave.  As she reached the door she stopped and looked up at the anguish in this broken man. “Please take care of yourself, Captain.” Aldis bowed and shut the door behind her.  

Marceline walked outside along the battlements for some time, finally finding a small ledge that overlooked the town and the Blue Palace. Her head still fuzzy from the drink, she found she could no longer suppress the torrent of memories that came upon her like a flood. The view of the town and river disappeared from her sight; in its place stood the white snow fields of Solstheim. Suddenly she was a child again, picking snowberries with a group of her friends. They had wandered far beyond the prescribed boundaries provided by their parents. In the distance, Marceline could see something gleaming behind a snowberry bush. As she approached the light she found it to be a ring bearing her family’s crest…and then she saw him. Marceline did not remember screaming as she looked into the cold, dead eyes of her brother, but she must have for within moments she was surrounded by group of adults.  She heard her mother wail as she wrapped Marceline up in her arms. Her father, a composed, gentle man of few words dropped to his knees as tears silently rolled down his face.

                                                                                  ~~~~~~~~

“No lollygaggin’, ma’am,” the guard said jolting Marceline out her memory.

“Huh?” Marceline sat up. She must have fallen asleep, for the sun had nearly sunk completely from the sky.

“Can’t have you fallin’ off the battlements,” he said offering his hand.

“No, no that wouldn’t do,” she said standing groggily. Walking towards Angeline’s Aromatics, Marceline took folded parchment from her pocket and with what little day light remained, read the letter. 

Ma,

    I know it’s been a few weeks since last I wrote. You’d be amazed at some of things I’ve seen.  A few days ago I saw a dragon.  A DRAGON!  Can you believe it?  If they weren’t such fearsome things I think they would be considered beautiful.

     I miss you. I miss you, Aldis and Viv. Try not to worry about me, ma.  I know you’re not happy about me being out here, but I’ve seen some incredible things and met a whole lot of new people—I’ve told a few to stop by our shop. 

    Anyway, I have to get moving.  I love you and hope to be home soon.

                                                                                                     --Furi

“It’s a stiff wind that blowing out there tonight, dearie. Those little darlings will freeze to death if I don’t bring them in,” she smiled. “Oh, and I have your perfume on the counter. I think it’s very close to the one you had before.”

“Angela,” Marceline started slowly. “Mrs. Morrard…I’m not here about the perfume.”

“I know,” Angela whispered as she braced the side of the counter. “I saw the look on your face as you approached. I knew. I think I’ve known all along,” she gulped.

“Here. Take my arm,” Marceline murmured gently as she led Angela to the bench just inside the living quarters.  Without asking she went into the kitchen and poured Angela a glass of mulled wine, then knelt down beside her.  “I spoke to Captain Aldis. He told me she had been a part of a scouting expedition,” Marceline then painfully recounted everything that Aldis had told her earlier that afternoon.

“I told her,” Angela said, her hands buried in her palms.  “I told that the Imperial Army would kill her!” she sobbed deeply.  “I told her this was a war of Jarls and Imperials, we had no part in it…but…but she refused to listen,” Angela then looked up a Marceline who said nothing as she continued.  “People always used to say that Fura was  her mother’s daughter—brave and reckless.  Years ago when I left Cyrodiil to follow a young soldier I had fallen in love with my family thought I had gone mad.  My mother even refused to speak to me for some time after that,” she smiled slightly at the memory. 

“I heard Fura was quite brave,” Marceline uttered as Angela looked down at her hands.

“I…I said some terribly harsh things to her before she left.  We fought terribly,” her voice trailed. “I just hope,” Angela started.  “I just hope she knew how much I loved her.” Marceline knew what Angela wanted—perhaps what every parent wanted— to know that they were loved…and forgiven.  And at least in this, Marceline could give the grieving mother what she so desired. 

“Angela, I have something for you.  Captain Aldis gave this to me when he told me the news of her passing—I think he wanted to give this to you personally, but her death has taken quite a toll on him as well.  Angela, I think he loved her very much…as much as she loved all of you.” She then handed Angela the folded piece of parchment.  As Marceline rose to fetch Angela more wine, she noticed Vivienne standing in the archway, wiping tears from her eyes; she then sat down by her aunt and took her hand as they both read Fura’s last words.

“Marceline,” Angela uttered softly as she rose to approach the Thane. “It was very brave of you to come to me with this.  And though I can’t thank you, not for this, you have done me a great service.”

Marceline stood beside her, gently wiping the tears from Angela’s eyes. “I am sorry we had to meet under these circumstances, for you are someone I would like to know.”  She then turned to walk out of the store. Taking the perfume off the counter she heard Angela call out to her.

“I hope your parents are proud of you; they have reason to be.” Marceline bowed her head slightly to the old woman then turned and walked out the door. Once outside she saw Aldis approaching. They nodded to each other as she watched him walk into the shop.

A bitterly cold wind blew as Marceline hurried into the Winking Skeever. There she saw Dres surround by a gaggle of young ladies—if you could them as such. Briefly they made eye contact as he nodded and motioned to the Wood Elf sitting alone in the corner.  Marceline quickly downed a shot of Flin as she tucked the day’s sorrow away; after all, there was a job to be done.   

Continued: Chapter 3: The Party Crasher