Considering for a moment that my ‘dream’ I conversed with my brother was true, I panicked. It was plausible my mother may indeed be looking for me. If nothing else to verify events and fact check. She always was incredibly thorough. Lying to her was pointless. She’d find out, eventually, one way or another.
When I came here, I didn’t initially intend on being entirely anonymous. However, my ‘death’ turned out to be an event I came to think of as a blessing. Now I was faced with the possibility that my family was indeed looking for me.
I cursed myself. I did not cover my tracks well. It was too late to disappear. I would eventually be discovered. My arrival at Helgen was recorded. They would find my tracks leading to Riverrun, Whiterun, and Solitude.
I hatched a new plan.
I must become powerful.
If I could establish enough titles, land, and prestige within Skyrim, then my family would not be able to extract me as a runaway child. I would have my own estates, and therefore, a sovereign resident of Skyrim.
I already held title of Thane in Whiterun, and the Housecarl Lydia. I needed more.
Counting out my 83 septims, I sighed hopelessly. How was I going to gain estates?
An impossible task, but I didn’t have a better plan. It was this, or marry the Supreme Commander Justicar’s son, Verin.
Verin. The one responsible for the scar on my brother’s knuckle. My brother was not one for violence. His preferred weapon was his charm. He talked his way out of trouble. But Verin’s advances on me were unwelcome. The one and only time my brother ever took a physical swing at anyone…
Mother was arranging for me to wed him…
I was not going back.