Skyrim: The story of a Nightingale

In the far south of Skyrim, somewhere not far from Helgen, on a summer night. Two women ride stirrup by stirrup on the road leading to the Cyrodiil border. Both are very young. One is a brunette with dark, curly hair cut short. A frightening scar furrows her face, which has features as if cut in stone and might have been pleasant if it weren't for her eyes. Her black, wide-lidded eyes are fixed and sharp, rarely blinking, and perhaps if they had the sharp edges of daggers, they could easily pierce even one of those handcrafted armors that were once forged by the People of the Deep.

The other is tall for a woman, blonde, and with short hair cut above her ears. She's very pretty, has gray, soft eyes, and could be considered very beautiful, a rare specimen in that respect, if she weren't so thin! She is so slender that she looks transparently diaphanous, and when a gush of warm wind blows in, bearing the scent of fir-trees that have been sun-browned in the daytime, you would sometimes expect to see her dissipating like a light mist, rising up into the deep, starry summer night sky.But perhaps this is only an appearance because, if you look more closely, you notice that the long, hooded cloak in which she is wrapped is embroidered with all sorts of arabesques and runes that seem to have a life of their own. Sometimes they shimmer with a ghostly glimmer in the spectral light of the Secunda, at other times they seem to move gracefully, like the foam of waves, giving the impression that the cloak is the surface of a sea, apparently somewhat calm on the surface, but tossed by strong waves in the depths.

The dark-haired woman carries a child across her chest in a black bundle clasped to her shoulder, in a manner often used by the ordinary women of these lands who must work or hunt while still nursing their babies.This is a poor land whose men are seldom at home, engaged in the endless wars of the Empire. Most are conscripted as young men into those imperial legions called the "Iron Legions" that brought glory and splendor to the Empire. Others are always away at sea, on secret and savage raids for plunder in the southern lands.

Not far from the fortified gate that separates Skyrim from Cyrodiil, the two women saddle their horses and dismount.Without a word, the brunette loosens the baby's bundle and hands it to the other. The blonde's eyes fill with warmth and she sheds a few tears... But maybe it's just an illusion, because everything Kiersten does, every move she makes, seems shrouded in a diaphanous haze where strange luminaries play in a peculiar manner, false lights that cannot spread the darkness but only thicken it. And her eyes, which are originally grayish, change color so often! She hastily stretches out her arms to receive the bundle in which the child sleeps very peacefully, and then, with graceful, supple movements, passes it along her chest.She sighs softly and, while looking straight into the other woman's eyes, asks in a crystalline voice, like the low, low sounds of a magic silver bell. "Are you sure, sis?"The other mumbles a hurried "Yes" as she tries to tear her gaze from the blonde's eyes. But she fails and continues to stare at Kiersten as Kiersten whispers further, "Keep in mind that if you entrust her to me now, she will be mine forever. I'll be her mother and I'll never mention you to her!""Yes," the other one choked, "Where I'm going, there's no place for children, and she herself was a mistake... I'm sure she was meant for you and I was wrong to steal your man!"To which, as crystalline waves of laughter burst from her mouth, Kiersten said, "Oh Astrid, why are you being silly? You know very well that since we were children we have shared everything we have found good in this world!""Yes, I'm sure!" replied Astrid sternly, and with an effort of will, she tore herself away from her sister and took a rather bulky bag from her horse's saddlebag. "Take this, Kiersten, and may Nocturnal guide your steps."The blonde hastily grabbed the bag and then the women threw themselves into each other's arms. "Farewell," they said, and then they both mounted their horses, Astrid riding slowly back north while Kiersten rode at a cheerful, playful pace south.Right then, to the east, Masser, still hidden by the mountains, began to cast its reddish glow over the land.

Somewhere, not near but neither too far away, an owl began to hoot..."Never mind, I don't believe in omens and I am strong enough to defeat or avoid any threat," Kiersten whispered as she gazed lovingly at the baby at her breast.