Not for the first time and certainly not for the last, he stared into the campfire and reflected on his life choices. He was cold despite the fire that crackled before him. Seven weeks passed since he'd last laid eyes on his beloved laying in a dark alley. Her clothes had been ripped apart and tossed aside and her once warm flesh brutally carved and mutilated. Had he been there to walk her home the way he'd done in the past, she would still be alive and warming his bed. Now, he relentlessly tracked a coldblooded murderer in the dead of a frigid winter, always a step behind. Skyrim truly was a harsh mistress.
After tossing the fifth bottle of ale into the shrubs to his left, his thoughts drew him to the last time he'd seen her alive.
"Papa, you're home! Did you bring me anything?"
The excitement in Sofie's voice contradicted the apprehension of her expression. No doubt she wondered how long he intended to stay. Sofie stopped asking that question a while back. Better for her to simply enjoy his presence than worry about when he would leave. And yes, he would leave, he had to.
"Yes, poppet, I did." He reached into his pack and drew out a flute. He'd carved it for her out of the tusk of a, particularly beastly horker. He'd carved an intricate pattern of mountain flowers, the ones Sofie loved to collect, from end to end.
"Thank you, Papa, it's beautiful! Can I play it now?" Sofie's face brightened at the sight of his gift.
"Not now, child. Your papa and I need to talk."
Susanna barely cracked a smile. She was always angry with him for staying away and he couldn't blame her for that. Raising Sofie while working long hours at the Inn was no easy task, especially not in a place like Windhelm.
"Have you no smile for your beloved, Susie? If I told you I brought a trinket for you as well would it soften your heart?"
Susanna crossed her arms in what he knew to be her attempt at remaining steadfast in her anger toward him but he saw the sparkle in her eyes. Experience told him she wouldn't stay angry for long and he'd soon be enveloped in the warmth of her embrace.
In two long strides, he moved to the table, picked up some cheese and a half loaf of fresh bread and ate. How he longed for a hot bowl of Susie's beef stew. Gods, he yearned for more than that after the time he'd been away.
"Hmph, as if a trinket will make up for your continued absence. I'm not as easily assuaged as a nine-year-old. The weight of your charm doesn't carry the way it used to my love."
Perhaps it would take a bit more than the necklace with the light blue stone he'd crafted to appease her after all. Wiping the crumbs from his beard, he noticed the blood on his bracers and cringed. He could have at least bathed prior to his arrival but he'd been too anxious to delay his homecoming further.
Sighing, he knelt by the hearth to warm his hands. Susanna gently raked her fingers through his hair and briefly touched his shoulder before withdrawing her hand. Even that small gesture warmed him more than the flames.
Rising, he turned toward her again and finally she smiled, the corners of her mouth lifting only slightly but a smile is a smile and he'd take it. Offering his hand to her, he murmured, "Come, my love, let us go home. I've missed my wife and daughter and this inn is too crowded."
On the morrow, his mace will finally dole out justice. It will be bloody and brutal, no less than Susanna deserves. Gods knew he'd never been worthy of her but he would exact revenge in her name even if he died in the process.
