Relle has a creative way of getting Onmund to go outside.

Onmund hates how Relle won't let him go with her to Solstheim. Especially because she will be traveling with somebody else.

It's the twenty-ninth of Hearthfire, 4E202, and my twentieth birthday. Only now am I realizing where I went wrong. When I agreed to go to the wedding, I thought nothing of it. Just a little party, maybe an hour or so at the most. I would have to walk around and smile politely at strangers, eat good food, and kill the bride. Nothing extravagant.

But even as she collapsed against a wall, she let out a short, stifled sob. The look in his eyes as he begged for his life would not disappear in her mind's eye. For a moment, he was just her brother. And then she drew the dagger. And then there were two.

The sound that Wren Cousland made as Duncan firmly grasped her arm could not have been human. She let out the high, desperate wail of a cornered animal, mixed with curses to anybody who would hear. The Grey Warden currently dragging her away was the subject of many, as was Arl Howe. Especialy Howe.

All I want to do is get to bed, to escape reality. The only problem is, reality almost always haunts my dreams. And since I'd rather be tired than have nightmares, I won't be sleeping tonight. All eyes are on me. Brynjolf said so himself.

Was this really happening? This day, the day that I had never even stopped to consider; the day that I find my self barely able to stand, breaking down completely. The day I find myself being pelted with snow, but I'm so cold on the inside that I can't feel it. I can't feel anything. Relle has to cope with the Arch-Mage's death.