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It was a frigid and lonely night. The icy winds blew harshly, leaving the cobbled streets empty. It was the kind of cold that would reach into people's bones, where each step becomes a prayer for a torchlit doorway. They almost feel the warmth of the fire inside in their daydreams. Letting that feeling become legitimate in their mind, rather than the freezing reality as they dismally trudge forward. Not even the animals seemed to stir from their homes, equally aware of the unappealing winds outside. A cold night usually gives people a reason to draw closer to one another, to feel the natural warmth mortals are born to give. Sitting comfortably, cosy in front of a fire. Perhaps with a warm drink, to warm them from the inside. Obsidian was not amongst them.
Though she hailed from the sun-scorched Ashlands of Vvardenfell, the biting chill of Skyrim no longer fazed her. The first years spent in this frigid land had been a daunting test, with ice-laden winds gnawing at her skin like a persistent, unwanted companion. Her responsibilities as the Dragonborn left little room for respite, but necessity forged resilience. In her quest to adapt, she learned to endure the numbing embrace of the cold by plunging herself into the invigorating waters of Lake Illinalta. Each frigid dip hardened her spirit and fortified her body against the relentless winter.
This resilience played a pivotal role in her ultimate decision to claim this rugged land as her forever home. Lakeview Manor, nestled conveniently close to the lake, stood in quiet harmony with its surroundings, a refuge against the elements. As she turned her gaze towards the estate, the flickering glow of candlelight leaked from the windows, casting warm, golden hues that danced across the encroaching darkness. Beyond, her garden swayed gently, a colorful tapestry woven from vibrant leaves and delicate petals, rustling softly in the crisp breeze as if whispering secrets to the night.
On the grassy embankment, her leather-bound journal rested open, its pages fluttering gently in the breeze. Beside it sat a bottle of Sparkling Honeydew wine, a thoughtful gift from her adoptive father Vorcano, its shimmering label catching the moonlight. Neatly folded next to the journal and wine were her clothes, each piece carefully arranged as if awaiting her return. The scene was a quiet reflection of her life, a blend of cherished memories and the simplicity of a moment spent in solitude. These moments were becoming increasingly more common. It had been four years since Obsidian had battled with Alduin, putting the World Eater to rest. So many memories, warm and full played through her mind. She would never forget the feeling of arriving in Whiterun for the first time. Never forget the first time she met her future companion Serana. Never forget her celebrated return home after defeating Alduin. Never forget meeting the Unbound Dremora who would go on to be her partner. Never forget when she and Lydia woke up in a haybale after a long night at the Bannered Mare. Never forget how proud she felt to hear Hermaeus Mora name her as his champion. So many memories.
The one on her mind presently was that of her husband Alessandre. The half-giant spectacle that he was. She remembered a time she had business to attend to in Whiterun. While dashing around the city, she noticed Alessandre was surrounded by a group of children sitting at his feet. They were fascinated with the stories he was proclaiming, each bombarding him with questions. Obsidian was uncertain if her husband had even noticed her presence. Though the sight of him in that moment burned into her memory. The thought of children was something that used to annoy Obsidian. She was far too busy to start a family, and there was no way she would raise a child in the war-torn lands of Skyrim. However, she didn't dare to leave her life behind and return to her tribe to have a child. Even if she chose this, what use would it be? Her duty as Dragonborn and Daedrologist would continuously get in her way. Although that memory.... it repeated in her head over and over to the point of near insanity. The way he smiled at them, the way they looked at him. How safe they all felt around a man who should theoretically send them scarpering.
Obsidian sighed, leaning her head back against the grassy bank as she opened her eyes to the stars and the moons, Masser and Secunda. From a young age, she had desired more than the mundane life of an Ashlander. She had accomplished numerous great feats and achieved everything her heart desired. She was a sung hero, an asset to the study of Daedrology and a local hero of the province. Yet, she couldn't shake the feeling that there was still more waiting for her out there.
But what?