Amelie
It has been a few days since my waking up in Winterhold's inn. Dagor has been a most generous man, allowing me to have a free room and food; for the time being of course. There would be a way for me to repay him for the kindness shown, but I'm afraid it would be sometime before that could happen. But, I ran into someone who Nelacar didn't care for: Korir, Jarl of Winterhold. In fact, I'm talking to him now, in his all. The man wanted to see me about something.
"Ma'am, are you alright? Word travels fast in a small town like mine." He sounded a little like Wergar, but not a full of himself.
"Yes, Your Grace," I replied. "Nelacar saw to my swift recovery. His magic truly saved me." The slash on my left side was made by a silver sword. Silver is a therian's worst nightmare, being able to render our kind helpless.
At the mention of Nelacar and magic, Korir frowned. "Of course he was. And magic." It sounded bitter to me. "Magic is the reason you're alive? Ha, magic is the reason Winterhold is in such dire straights!"
Oh?
"Do you know the story about the Great Collapse?" Korir asked in a rather "hush-hush" tone, but it still seemed to boom in the hall. I gave him a nod, my white hair tumbled down my shoulders. The Great Collapse was, depending on your source, a disaster that took out more than half of Winterhold into the Sea of Ghosts.
Korir began his tale of the Collapse, recalling the history and the haunting remains that were left. I mentioned it was a disaster, but not a recent one. It happened about eight decades ago. The winds and sea, which were normally calm waters, seemed to awake in a rage. The winds and water battered against the cliffs until they gave. This went on for weeks on end; entire squares disappeared over night. Much of Winterhold's residents died and those that lived moved away, as did many Dunmer, wishing to get away from the prejudice.
The Jarl finished giving his sad tale, once again blaming the College. "This town would have been better off if the mages and College never came here." Korir repeated with amnesty. My goodness, his displeasure for mages was great. I decided to stay quiet about my intentions. He spoke up again.
"I will give them this, however. They're trying to get on Winterhold's good graces. Their new head-mage is trying his damndest, but I will be brought into his ruse!" His face was red from his shortness of breath from talking my ear off. But, something stuck out from his speech. New head-mage. Nelacar told me the leader of the College is called the "Archmage".
Savos Aran. That was the name of the Archmage, as Nelacar told me. He was a student at the College years ago, but left due to a certain incident. He wouldn't say anything more. But Nelacar did say that Savos was Archmage until recently, being replaced by an Argonian who saved Winterhold.
I said my goodbyes to Korir and left for the inn across the road once more. The place has practically become a new home; I have no idea where things are in Skyrim. The world outside was in a, what appeared to be, continuous blizzard. I didn't flinch at the wind and cold; I'm from a cold region, born and raised. This here was nothing compared to Shadowhaven's cold.
Opening the door of the inn, I was greeted by the warmth from the central fire pit. Dagor's friendly welcome back helped do the fire's job, too.
"Hello to you too, Dagor," I replied. He always lit up when I talked to him. A conversation ensued about by meeting with the Jarl.
"You're joking, right?" He asked. Dagor was commenting on Nelacar using his healing magic to close my now scar.
"No, I'm not." I said. "Korir has a real... " I paused, trying to find the right word, "attitude toward any magic. He's more stubborn than-" I stopped. Wergar. The thought broke my inner barriers, causing me to stifle a sniffle. I haven't seen him in so long, nor heard of him, I'm afraid he's taken from me. A tear flowed down and dripped onto the counter.
"Amelie," Dagor chimed in, "are you alright? What's wrong?" His voice had worry in it, like a friend does for another.
"Just going through old memories, my friend." I replied. it wasn't a lie, it wasn't the truth either. All that went through my mind was Wergar. All those happy years, now he could be dead... or worse. The Catlords are ferocious with their prisoners. This is based on rumor and speculation, but they use silver on nearly every torture device. Sometimes, they pour molten silver on the victim's body. And their main prisoners are therians. I hear the felinethropes are landing in Skyrim. This province's luck is about to go from bad to hell.
I couldn't take it anymore. I needed to know.
"Dagor, do you know my husband?" His eyebrow arched up in confusion. "I at least should tell you his name, so you know," I continued. My emotions were starting to calm down a little, but I was still on edge.. I've mastered my lycanthropy many years ago, however its emotions sometimes were added onto mine. "My husband's name is Wergar."
Dagor widened his eyes and his jaw dropped in astonishment. If they could have, they eyes would fall from their housing. the light and shadows began to sway to-and-fro, as if they, too, were surprised. After several moments of silence, Dagor finally spoke.
"Incredible... you are married to the man?!" He couldn't contain the excitement within. It drew Nelacar and Ranmir from their respected spots.
"Dagor, whash with the outburst? What's gottn' inta' you?" The question came from Ranmir, rolling off his tongue in a slightly slurred tone. To be honest, I figured him to be entirely drunk. It's what he does.
"About Wergar, you drunken fool! Amelie here is his wife!" Dagor practically shouted it for all to hear. All the patrons cocked their heads in out direction, wondering what was just said. The fabrication of the words suddenly hit them and they began to clamor toward the counter. When everyone got there, the bombardment of questions began.
"Are you really married to the man?!"
"What's he like?!"
"Are you like him too?!"
The last question stuck out most of all. Everyone started to agree and ask that question. I didn't know what to do. They might've known, they maybe making the entire thing up.
"Like him how?" I asked cautiously to the woman who asked the question. Her black hair was cut in a familiar fashion and her simple dress was a vibrant yellow.
"A Werewolf!" She didn't falter. The small crowed hurrahed their approval.
It shocked me that these people knew of my love's therianthropy. If they did know, than perhaps Wergar transformed when defending this little town. I don't know. I answered.
" Yes, I am married to Wergar. He's an amazing man and a loving husband and father." The last part ran hollow. All my children died at the paws of Leopold. I don't want to talk about it. "And yes, I, too, am a Werewolf. But I'm a different kind." The crowed gave me a look of confusion. I explained. "You see, Wergar is a Gray Wolf while I am a Winter Wolf." Dagor, Nelacar, and Ranmir walked up to the head of the group, joining in on my telling.
Someone's question came out. "Can you transform for us?" This question seemed to excite me and shake me, as well as the group.
"Well," I replied, thinking on the situation. "I don't see the harm." I said slowly. "Do you want the full transformation or parts at a time?" The question was kind of dumb to ask. Everyone called for the whole thing.
"Alright," I replied to the crowd. "Here you all go." White fur began to spread across my body as the Wolf came to the fro.
