My Story of Little Importance - Yarti

To Fanar and/or Fannah:

I thought that some day one of you would like to hear my story, well, the beginning of it or the parts that we had never talked about for one reason or another. Know that it pains me to remember some of it. The past doesn’t matter that much to me, it never did. I had nothing, and then I had Snake and then I had you, the things that happened before then were like the first two steps of a staircase. You don’t pay them any mind for they make up such a small part of the whole staircase. The current and the future are always more important than the past I think. The past is a time of learning and often times, regrets. You are young, you know not what struggles may await you. Things that no one should face alone. The love of friends or family carry us through the struggles and into greener fields. The current should be cherished for what you have and the memories of the good things that you once had if they are now gone. The future should be a thing of optimism and hope. I will be recording this separate from my journal so it can be found in some foreseeable future in the storeroom. I suppose I should write it under the assumption that the two of you are grown at the time of the reading. Yes, that would be best. I know you Fannah, chances are, you could read this within minutes of me folding the paper and tucking it away. I must keep it civil and proper in the chance of that scenario. I hope you wouldn’t understand much of it, if that is the case.

I am the daughter of Lette Serethi, a formerly-Hlaalu Persuader and a Telvanni-born Nord of some renown, however that worked. I never met my father and I don’t know his name. At the time of writing this, you have never met them. Perhaps some day.

First, some preface. In the later days of the Third Era, your grandmother, a servant’s daughter grew up in the manor where her father worked. I was told it was in Mournhold, but I had my doubts. This is all based on hearsay and the few times she ever spoke of her younger days so it may not be completely accurate. There is much I do not know. She was over two hundred years old by the time I came into the picture. When the Tribunal fell, her family cleaned out the manor and fled northwest. After selling off a portion of the manor loot they were able to settle near the Skyrim border. Over the next hundred years, the family amassed quite a fortune through trade, thievery and money lending. They came to control a small community and your great-grandfather’s word was law. House Hlaalu fell apart some time after that but the family retained it’s traditions and practices well into the current age. Around 36 years ago as of the time of this writing, a traveling Nord passed through their community on business. He and mother discussed business for many weeks and their time together grew into something more. Mother fell in love with him. They hid their relationship from grandfather, fearing his reaction. The man had some standing in the Telvanni. If he were a Dunmer, I guess everything would have worked out fine. But grandfather would not allow Nord intermingling. The daughters were expected to marry for power, sold off to wealthy Dres men perhaps. Nords were out of the question and Nords in the community were little more than slaves. Late in that year, the pregnancy was discovered. The man was ambushed by our guards and left with three dead at his feet. Rather than kill more guards and worsen the situation, he complied and left town. He disappeared after that and it haunted mother for the rest of her life. And then I happened.

I was given a fine education and access to a variety of training growing up, much like you. Though the family factor was sorely missing. Like Fannah, I was skilled in Illusion at a very young age, but I had zero interest in economics, history or any Hlaalu teachings. They bored me. It felt wrong. By the time I was 8 or 10 I had mastered sneaking out of the house. I would hang out in town until I was caught and taken back inside. I would visit the fishermen, the shops, see what the traveling traders were bringing in. I had cousins to play with back at home but we were so different in mannerisms that it rarely worked out. I had very little interaction with my mother. She was always away on business for much of her youth and what little interaction we did have was veiled by that depression that consumed her. She was focused on her tasks. A very cold and to-the-point person. My parentage was mostly kept quiet in the house, but by way of hushed voices and rumors, I knew most of the story by the time I was old enough to understand it. But she would never speak of it. We were introduced to the pantheon of the Divines as part of our classes, though the town itself was owed to Azura. A grand statue of her likeness stood on the far end of town. Azura became something of an adoptive mother figure for me. By adolescence, we had grown so very distant and that distance formed resentment. I wished she would have opened up. She wanted her work, and wanted me to follow in her footsteps, without question. My Nord blood brewed strong and of course I eventually discovered alcohol and it’s merriment. The tavern became a second home. A place away from cold mother. The half-drunken stories of the Nords became my history classes. One night, I followed a group of Nord traders back to their camp to crack open a keg. An Imperial patrol arrived on the scene the next morning and found me in their bed. Nothing happened but we had all gotten quite drunk over the course of the night. They took me across the border and I was subsequently released. Skyrim felt right to me. Rather than return, I traveled for a year or so. Enjoying the sights and sounds of the new land. Most every night was spent at an inn, and every morning spent waking up with very little recollection of the previous night. Alcohol filled the void in me I guess. I did many things I came to regret in those days. Another year or so of that and I had enough. I sought out some change in my life. I bought a keg, affixed it to my pack, filled it with wine the inn then set out on an adventure. One lead to another, and to another. Over the course of a summer I had established myself as a mercenary of sorts. Many things happened in these days but few things are worth mentioning. In time I came to hate Dunmer. I saw them for what they were. I thought myself a true Nord and began to carry myself as such, even more so than before. I came across many an artifact that I would carry with me unto this day, but the most important of which was my sword. I found the silver sword that would become Snilla-Nilyn at some point there, though I knew not it’s purpose or name at the time. In that time, I came to meet a few of the friends that I still have. I suppose the most important of those would be Xi, another Dunmer mercenary. The only Dunmer friend I ever had and like an older sister to me. That life was a better life than the last, but the void was still there. Eventually, I was able to rent an apartment in Whiterun. I would spend a few days there before heading out for long days of travel. While living there, I met a young Companion, Nita Bjorn. A good few years younger than I, the small girl seemed entranced by my stories. We became good friends in little time and would often travel together for Companions work. I was never a full fledged member or anything, but our work coincided at times. Outside of working, we would spend many a day together, just lounging about and having our talks. From there, work thinned out. I became known in those parts and found myself caring for local children when no work was available. Babysitting I suppose, but most of them were closer to the age you are now. The motherly role was something I came to enjoy. That too came to a slow halt, forcing me to set about traveling again. I would return to Whiterun and check in on Nita occasionally, but most of my time was spent on the road. Exhausted and far from civilization, I would regularly seek shelter wherever I could. One fated night, I sought shelter in an abandoned hut near Darkwater Crossing. It was warm and comfortable enough. I packed away my bags and glimmering sword. Poured myself a glass of wine and sat it atop the table. It was to be my drink for the day, a struggle I was trying to contain. The air was thick with dust, that would never do. I stepped out the door, swatting dust from in front of my eyes as the cold night air rushed in. I breathed deep of it, eyes closed. At once, I opened them and saw a young Nord mercenary on the road walking toward the hut. A giant silver greatsword was perched atop his heavy black armor. Your father. As soon as I laid eyes upon him, I just knew it. My heart melted. Love at first sight, if you will. I scrambled off the porch and ran to greet him. Offering him a hot meal and place to spend the night. An odd sensation overtook me, a happiness I had never really felt before. The void gone. As soon as the door was shut, I fell into his arms and then into bed, strewn clothes in our path with few words traded between us. We had a good night.

When I awoke the next morning, he was gone. I cursed myself for not asking his name. The void had returned with greater force. I had caught that he was heading to Riften but nothing more. I packed up my gear and set out for the Bee and Barb. I would visit two, sometimes three times a day asking the innkeeper for information about this mercenary but to no avail. But my persistence paid off. One such day I was at the counter asking for information as usual, when the mercenary pecked on my back. I turned and looked into his eyes. My legs weak, I fell backwards onto to a stool. We talked for so long. Hours and hours and hours. Once we tired of talking we rented a room for the night. From that point on we were inseparable. We traveled together for nearly a decade. A common thought in those days, was what if mother tried to find me. If she would come to take me back. It was a fear of mine, a fear that strengthened a resentment that had little reason to be there in the first place.

We kept separate residences at first. I would return to my apartment in Whiterun, rekindling the friendship with Nita as the relationship with Snake transformed from companions to utter soulmates. The three of us became the closest of friends and I know it pained her when we finally moved forward. I soon felt the call of marriage and we were wed. A honeymoon on a far away island, then a visit to the trade city Helsmyrr. It was as beautiful back then as it is now. A magic place and a most magic time in our lives. With our combined wealth, we came to own a small house in Whiterun and between work, I suppose I developed into a fine housewife. Not long after the house, I became pregnant with the two of you. A happy moment in a life already trending toward happiness. Through my burdened days, I took up reading and sewing. The books and perhaps lingering memories of a life once lead brought about a taste for fine clothing. Though that would be more apparent later as you surely know. The thought of motherhood dulled the resentment of my own mother. I would talk with her, maybe. If we were to meet again in good terms. But it was far too late to go looking for her again and if she came to me with ill intent, I felt more than capable of putting a stop to it even in that condition. I was truly happy and would have no issue sharing the happiness with her, should she be willing. But none would take it from me. As the days counted down, we came to the realization that the house was too small for a family, so we sought out another home, eventually settling into a large cabin atop a ridge overlooking Darkwater crossing. Pinegrove. A fitting place, we thought. Though we were to lose all contact with Nita for several years there due to the distance, our last meeting was a heartfelt one. The family life molded us into true Mara worshippers, with an altar at the top of the stairs. Every night I would pray for your safe bringing and so it was. You were born without issue thanks to Mara, local healers and a wealth of friends and my love at my side. Then I was a mother. Again, it felt right. As though I had taken the right path. We devoted the first few years to you. Every hour of every day. Sewing as a hobby gave way to sewing as a source of income. Using designs I had seen in books, I began by copying them, and before long I had developed skill of my own. I might have had five minutes free every other day to sew, but that time was put to use. Snake followed suite with blacksmithing and developed some degree of skill with that over the years, lending to his continued expansion of the house. By the time you two were old enough to be aware of it, the house had already went through several remodels and expansions. We made so many memories in that old house. They will never leave me. As you became more aware and more active, we felt it a crime to have you so cramped up on a mountaintop away from others your age. With some hesitance, we moved again, back to Whiterun. This time settling into a comfortably sized cottage in the fields outside of town. Now surrounded by friends and family, you would have the safety and education that you deserved. You had tutors and mentors within a days reach should we want them. It was easier to find someone to watch you so I could accompany Snake on closer or more dangerous jobs. I was reunited with Nita and despite her hesitations, she became a true aunt to you over the years. It was the perfect thing to do at the perfect time. As of the time of this writing, that move wasn’t that long ago, but your lives are so interesting right now. So full of wonder at every turn. I wonder how much of it you remember now, or will remember 15 or 20 years down the road. Whenever it may be that you do come to read this note. It is a curious thought.

That brings us to the present. A happy family prospering in green fields. A mother in her husband’s loving arms with the finest children anyone could ever ask for at their side.