[ Hi! I'm Mari. I hope you enjoy my fic! This story will follow the ESO timeline, but is friendly to those unfamiliar with the source material. This is something I've wanted to write for years now, and I'm finally taking the time to do it! The basic organization of this fic will include a summary at the start of each chapter of what the current state of being is, since I do foresee this fic getting quite lengthy and it'll be easier for readers to follow the plot. I'll try to update this as often as I can, hopefully once every 1-2 weeks as a personal challenge, though my personal life is a bit hectic so I can't promise anything strict. BUT I will try my best. This is something I genuinely care about, and I want to see it through regardless of how long that might take. Feel free to give me feedback; it encourages me to continue. Most of all, I hope you enjoy! ]
[CHAPTER INTRO]
Daeris Urzara is one of the Dark Brotherhood's top assassins, owed to her powers as a demiprince and rigorous training that started from birth. She grew up in the organization's base in the Imperial City, but upon Molag Bal's attack on the city, she was temporarily transferred to the Gold Coast as Brotherhood functions in the area ceased in order to keep the daedra from finding and destroying the Sanctuary. Her new home is not without it's issues. A predatory force in service to the Order of the Hour, a rather devout cult of Akatosh worshippers, hunts down and slaughters members of the Dark Brotherhood in Kvatch and Anvil. Daeris has made it her goal to put an end to this self-righteous slayer; her own survival quite literally depends on it. Coming face to face with the killer of killers, an apex predator will emerge, and Daeris's future will take an uncertain turn. But first, she had to find this assassin-hunter, and information can come from the most unlikely of sources...for a steep price.
"I recognize in thieves, traitors and murderers, in the ruthless and the cunning, a deep beauty - a sunken beauty."
-Jean Genet
The gravity of the situation began to sink in when she heard Mirabelle crying for Cimbar. It was uncomfortable for many reasons beyond normal human cirmunstance, complicated by their status as assassins. It's not that Mirabelle and Cimbar's relationship was disallowed or discouraged, but it was well understood that everyone should be prepared for loss at any time. When you danced with death on a daily basis, you had to acknowledge that one day it might decide to claim you instead of your target. Everyone was always ready to lose, to mourn briefly then go about their duties for the good of the family, but Cimbar's death and Mirabelle's weeping brought everything to a halt.
Time froze and confounded the assassins. The unforgiving air twisted around them like razors, scraping them raw and revealing what was left of the humanity they were meant to bury. Even Daeris, who'd only been with this Sanctuary for a couple of weeks, felt the sting. Daeris had never had the unfortunate experience of losing someone close to her before, but it was as if the pain that radiated from her fellow assassin seeped into her skin and forced her to feel the loss. It was made worse by her fondness for Mirabelle. The Breton was a kindred spirit, and her demeanor was a light for the Sanctuary. That light was now drowned in tears, and Daeris could only hope that it would shine again one day.
Eventually, however, life had to continue. Daeris occupied herself with minor contracts for the next few weeks, as most others did as well. The tension in the Sanctuary had only begun to settle when a more prestigious job came her way. The Pirate Queen and current Governor of Anvil, Fortunata ap Dugal, decided to enlist an assassin from the Dark Brotherhood in a political maneuver. Daeris was the lucky woman chosen for the job. Fortunata's request was brazen, but Daeris admittedly found it entertaining. Kill Commander Scipio, then break into the Count of Kvatch's estate and use news of the murder to give him a nice spook. Breaking into a militant castle was perilous and would unnerve even a hardened assassin, but Daeris was rightfully confident in her mastery of the shadows and too cocky to think twice about it. She wasn't a fool nor was she unprepared, but a task like this required far less preparation for her than it would for anyone else. She had the luxury of having everything she needed at the tips of her fingers.
The shadows were her friend in a way they could be no other. Her unique parentage allowed her pull them to her will, shifting through the many possibilities to manipulate the world. Shadows were more than darkness. They were reflections of every possible state of being, and one with the ability to shift through these realities could do many things. You could hide yourself from sight, unlock a locked door, or allow a deadly blade to pass through you as if you weren't even there among other things. It was the perfect magic for an assassin, and admittedly often made her more cocky than she should be. Her arrogance hadn't gotten her killed yet, so she saw no reason to cast it aside.
Maneuvering through Castle Kvatch was more of a challenge due to its size. The place was a maze stuffed with people and little room for an uninvited presence to explore. It must have taken her well over an hour to find the count's room. Finally, she found her long-sought door and held her palm over the lock to twist the shadows around it. There were several locks, as she discovered, so shifting through to unlock all of them put her in a precarious position. Altering the locks while also maintaining her invisibility could take too much time, so all of her effort was put into the former. The door would open more swiftly, yes, but she risked being seen. Count Carolus was well aware of Fortunata's thirst for power and undoubtedly increased security to thwart hired invaders like Daeris. Patrols would pass the area more often, and the count himself would be quick to notice things out of the ordinary.
Daeris's ethereal lockpicking halted as a quiet noise from inside the room drew her attention. It was a mundane little chant, not completely audible and worth overlooking. The words tickled her ears and begged her to listen to them, and soon she recognized what was being said. But what she heard was not meant to come from the lips of someone so strung with their own uptight honor. They were the words of murderers without a blade in their hand, of people who would kiss death to have it greet another.
The distant plop of armored feet upon the stone sent Daeris back to work. She cared no longer for mystique upon her entry and rushed through the door to confirm her suspicions. She closed it quickly behind her and tiptoed around the corner to find the source of the chanting. If she were not accustomed to such a grisly sight, the view would have shaken her to the bone. This view was in fact common for Daeris to see, though the person involved was a gargantuan surprise. The count kneeled in a circle of candles and scattered nightshade, stabbing an effigy of skull, bone, flesh, and a heart with a dagger.
He was performing the Black Sacrament, the macabre ritual meant to summon assassins of the Dark Brotherhood like Daeris herself.
"It worked? Of course it did. You're here," the count said as he rose from the ritual circle to face the assassin. His voice quaked as he spoke as if it was difficult to carry to weight of his own words. Daeris could read the deperation in his eyes. No, Carolus, there was no turning back. Not from this. "I've been performing this damned ritual night after night. I wouldn't, but she must be stopped. Fortunata is going to bring ruin to the Gold Coast and its people!"
"An eager fellow, aren't you? Just so happy for an assassin to grant your wish and rid you of your problems. Unfortunately, your ritual is not why I'm here. I'm here on behalf of another," Daeris tugged at her cowl, shifting it atop her head. "Fortunata, in fact. Don't worry, Carolus, it's not your head she wanted, but you'll need to find a new commander. Scipio won't be showing up for work tomorrow."
"Commander Scipio is dead!?" Count Carolus mewled, his voice lowering to a growl. "Of course. As if any other maneuver could be as insulting as it is damaging. This is exactly why she needs to die. So, you may not have come here because of my ritual, but I performed it nonetheless, and I want to do business."
"That's not part of my job description," Daeris raised a hand in interjection. "Look, I'm an assassin, not a negotiator. I don't make the contracts, I just put a blade in whoever I'm told to, and there's a lot of things that need to happen before I stick my blade in anyone at your request."
"Then take my request to your superiors. I assure you I have an abundance of gold to repay your organization with. I also have something I feel your organization would value even more: information about the one attacking your assassins."
Daeris narrowed her eyes at the count, her lips pulling into a frown beneath her mask. "Having that kind of information insinuates a connection to the murderer that you don't want to have when we destroy them and anyone who's ever aided them, Count Carolus. I hope for your sake that your information comes from secondary sources and not direct involvement."
"I assure you, handing you this operative is no skin off my back. If this is what it takes to put an end to Fortunata, then I'll tell you everything you need to know."
Before Daeris could respond, she noticed the count's attention flick from her to a presence behind her. She turned, seeing Speaker Terenus behind her, likely there to answer the call of the Black Sacrament. Beneath his wide hood she could see the ghost of amusement on his face, the corners of his lips pulling into a smile. The unusual circumstances seemed to excite him. Or was it the prize the count offered that plucked at the speaker's sinister heart? A chance to seek revenge was likely not something the Black Hand would want to turn down.
"I take it you heard?" Daeris said to her superior and gestured towards the count.
"I did indeed," Terenus responded. "There has been a unique turn of events, it seems. You are here on behalf of Governor Fortunata, true, but you have fulfilled all facets of your contract for her. You are in the perfect position to enact this new one."
"This is weird," Daeris shrugged. "But I can't say that it doesn't make sense."
The speaker nodded. "The Sacrament has been performed, and Fortunata's soul is now owed to Sithis. We shall not deny him. The sooner the Pirate Queen falls, the better. Go back to Anvil, assassin. You'll find a familiar face there ready to render you aid. I will discuss payment with our count here."
"The dear governor will not survive the evening, speaker," Daeris flourished a bow. She couldn't help the grin that formed from her lips. Unusual circumstances during contracts tended to be fun and gave her a chance to be creative with how she handled things. Well, they were fun most of the time. Sometimes they involved wading through sewers and praying that she wouldn't have to touch the muck. The most tantalizing thing about this contract was not the unique circumstances surrounding it, but rather the reward.
Finding the bastard hunting her family was worth any trial she could face.
The journey from Kvatch to Anvil took only a few hours thanks to the cities' close proximity. By the time Daeris passed through the walls of the port city, the sky had turned a burnt orange hue and the sun steadily approached the horizen. The sunbleached cobblestone of the bridge to Anvil castle was washed in pale terracotta gloss reflected from the warm sky. The sea sparkled endlessly in a span that had no end. Somewhere across those diamond waves were Hammerfell, Auridon, and Malabal Tor, but you wouldn't know it at a glance. The line where the sea met the sky was a beautiful end for the world, and you could pretend it was so if you didn't know better. Whatever those foreign lands offered paled in comparison to the beautiful ultimatum of the horizen. Who would dare cross it? All Daeris could do was stare at it from the coast. There was a wide world out there, but it was a hard one to reach for. Here was comfort, beauty and family. Beyond the sea, nothing was guaranteed.
Perhaps that's what intrigued her most. She'd lived her entire life in Cyrodiil; she'd been around the entire country enough times to know every road and every sight worth seeing. A worthy adventure in her homeland was becoming a rare thing. Her work with the Dark Brotherhood was entertaining, but it was routine. Twenty-three years of daily adventures tended to dull the experience. She was complacent with her lot in life. It was all she knew. Ironically, she felt most safe as an assassin. The idea of being something else was impossible. Take a contract. Knife a target. Spend her pay on something to kill the guilt. Find a new lover for the week in a new town. Come back to the Sanctuary when she starts to feel too alone and get in trouble for being gone for longer than her contract required of her. Rinse and repeat. It was a cycle so routine she no longer put much thought into it, no different from washing her hair. A life full of thrills and new experiences was not meant to become so monotonous.
The arch of the bridge provided decent shade from the heat of the sun. There was just enough land underneath for her to find a place to sit, her boots barely out of the water's reach. Her contact would arrive soon, and then they could come up with a plan to take out Fortunata. The patter of thick wings caught her attention, and she looked to her right to see a jet-black raven land in the grass. It cocked its head at her knowingly, and she heaved an annoyed sigh. Now was not the time for this.
"Look, I can't talk right now. I'm in the middle of a very critical situation and I'm waiting for a contact," Daeris spoke to the raven, who was unabashed by her dismissive tone. It was used to her morphing temperament by now. Her teenage years were far worse, honestly. She'd even swatted it a few times. "Tell her that I'm fine, and I will talk to her when I have the time. I don't have the materials for a summoning right now, so if it is that important, tell her to come to me herself for fuck's sake."
The raven sighed and took flight, disappearing in a small puff of indigo smoke and feathers. Daeris waved away the tufts that wafted towards her face, her nose no longer bothered by the burnt scent that accompanied these shifts through the planes after years of being exposed to it. She was prepared to drift back into her daydreaming when she felt a chill creep up her spine. The feeling jolted through her nerves like tender electricity. It was the sensation of an invisible hand at the back of her neck, begging for her to see what gripped her. These were not physical reactions to anything that was happening, but rather the warning of her instincts telling her that something was not right. That there was something her body could sense but her eyes could not see. That she was not alone.
Daeris slipped the small knife from its pouch on her thigh as smoothly as an arm could slip through a silk sleeve. At an instance it was a breadth away from the throat of the one that approached her from her left while her back was turned. Her head turned to see who was there, her eyes meeting the mysterious face little more than a second after her blade was positioned to protect her from the potential threat. It was something that took years to master, though any good assassin would take the time to ingrain the habit into their system. An attacker will strike prematurely the moment they know they've been spotted. The clearest sign of that is, of course, if their target looks directly at them, so throwing up a blade before they know they've been noticed can throw off an attack pattern. A cerebral move, and second nature to Daeris at this point; the split-second difference having saved her life more than once. So, who was it that decided to sneak up on a Dark Brotherhood assassin?
"Nice reflexes," Mirabelle hummed. The knife at her throat did not faze her. They were family, after all, so there was no real threat to her life. Mirabelle was crouched behind Daeris, the skirt of her short Cyrodiilic tunic balled up into her hand to keep it from being stained by the grass and mud. "I've been looking for you forever. You could have picked a better place to hide than under the bridge."
"You scared the shit out of me," Daeris laughed, placing a relieved hand to her chest as she put away her knife. "Sneaking up on your fellow Brothers and Sisters is probably not the best idea when there's someone actually hunting us."
"You wouldn't have stabbed me. Now, if it was Brema, I might have called out from a distance because of her fondness for fireballs, but you're less prone to rashness and accidental stabbings, darling," Mirabelle mused, adjusting her feet to rest more comfortably in her sandals. That particular kind of footwear was not good for standing on a small slope, as Daeris noticed from her shifting feet. "It's only a matter of time before I slip into the ocean, so let's hurry up and talk. Matron Astara said to meet you at the castle immediately, but I didn't get much of an explanation. Care to enlighten me?"
"There's been an...unusual contract made. I'll tell you the full story back at the Sanctuary," Daeris lowered her voice to a whisper. There wasn't anyone passing the bridge at the moment, but it was better to be safe than sorry. "We're taking out Fortunata. Tonight."
Mirabelle's eyes widened in surprise, the first glimmer of light Daeris had seen in her eyes since Cimbar died. "Really? We're offing the pirate bitch tonight? Is it my birthday?"
"Would be a nice birthday gift, wouldn't it? Getting to depose a tyrannical ruler and having a toast as her head rolls? I feel like a revolutionary."
"Oh, don't worry, darling. I'm sure another pretentious grabber will take her place. The chaos will be nice for a while, though," Mirabelle looked away for a moment in thought. As if an idea had struck her, she reached into the folds of her dress and pulled a small vial of clear liquid from a hidden space between two seams. "Speaking of a toast, that might be the best way to bid her a nice farewell. Fortunata is a big fan of wine, and I happen to have this nice little vial of poison on my person at the moment."
Daeris's glossed lips curled into a sinister grin. "My hero," she snickered. "But wouldn't you be better at that, since you're a trusted servant and have access?"
"This is your contract, darling. I'm not cruel enough to steal your glory. Besides, I'll be needed here even after Fortunata is gone to keep an eye on the fool who takes her place. If the guards investigate her death and find she was poisoned, it wouldn't look good on me for being the last person in her stores," Mirabelle shook her head."I'll bring her the wine, but I'll have the other servants see me so there's no gap of time in which I could have done the act. You're the one that has to do the actual poisoning, making sure the drink has been tampered with long before I come around. If there is an investigation, suspicious eyes will not be on me."
"I understand," Daeris shrugged. "Surely there's some guidance you can offer me, then? The castle looks huge. I don't want to be wandering around it forever."
"I wouldn't leave you with nothing," Mirabelle tisked and waved her index finger pointedly at Daeris. "I know every secret about Fortunata and Anvil Castle. I know that there's a secret tunnel network built into the castle since its founding, but I also know that Fortunata had her own separate network installed in the foundations to cover for her smuggling operations. Look for red banners hanging with the crest of Fortunata and her Red Sails brigands. They mark the alcoves that have entrances to her special tunnels. The one that will get you to her wine stores the quickest is through the west wing, accesible by the door to your right in the receiving hall. Take a left every time the hallway splits until you reach a dead end. The entrance will be in a room nearby. From there it will be easy to find your way. Poison the decanter that has a golden ship etched into it, then distract her long enough for me to get there and bring it to her."
"Sounds like a solid plan to me," Daeris nodded and tucked the vial away into one of her pockets. Surely she could improvise long enough for Mirabelle to do what she needed to do. 'Go in the right door, keep left until I find the red banners, poison the decanter, and wait for Mirabelle,' she noted to herself. 'Golden ship etching. Need to remember that.'
"Remember that your stalling will be just as important as tainting the wine. I have to make sure my every step is accounted for if I don't want to ruin months of careful infiltration," Mirabelle said, the stress in her tone emphasizing how important this cover was to her.
"I promise I'll protect your cover," Daeris placed a hand briefly on her shoulder. "Now, I'd best be off before the sun goes down. A sunset is probably nicer to watch from a castle view."
Slipping through the entry hall was easy. The small room that greeted you when you opened the doors to Anvil Castle was emptied of it's normal bustling socialites and prospecting climbers of the city's hierarchy. Those looking to get into Fortunata's good graces knew to be anywhere else at this time so the governor's less civil associates can have their free run of the west wing and, according to Mirabelle's information, Fortunata's smuggling tunnels. The west wing itself was stocked with outlaws and corrupt officials, but thankfully most of them were in too much of a stupor to take notice of the intruder that stalked their halls. Daeris found the alcove with little effort, working to uncover its secrets the moment the area patrol turned a corner. It was a well-hidden mechanism, Daeris would admit that, but poking around the stone decorations long enough opened the tunnel with little resistance.
No traps? How, disappointing, Fortunata. You of all people should know better.
The passages itself was no challenge, either. A single hallway with little variation other than a turn and a few sets of stairs. How boring! But navigating the castle was never meant to be her challenge, was it? The true task was getting through the evening without blowing Mirabelle's cover or letting Fortunata somehow survive. After the chore of navigating Castle Kvatch earlier that day, Daeris was not inclined to complain about a change of pace.
Guards and chattering servants cluttered around the wine stores like birds protecting their nests. Fortunata was obviously wise enough to anticipate an attempt to poison her. Any woman that possessed the amount of power that she did and an equal thirst for wine would be smart enough to mind such attempts. This did not necessarily bode ill for Daeris, however. Since it was so amply defended, perhaps Fortunata would be more trusting of her drinks? If her own brilliance had gone to her head, maybe her pride in her astute carefulness would blind her to the thought of being bested. The thought of using Fortunata's own ego against her damn near made Daeris's mouth water. The ones who tried to fight off death the most were always the most satisfying to send to the Void. Reminding people that they were mortal, that they weren't the gods they wished to be, was always a spectacle.
Daeris sat perched in a shadowed corner, taking advantage of her magic to watch the patterns of the crowd unseen. Unfortunately, it was taking too much time. Anytime someone left, another person would appear, gossiping about their master or fellow servants. The guard patrols were of less concern than the gaggle of people in tunics pretending to clean the area around them so they could talk. Was there no end to them? Was this the only relief they had from daily life under Fortunata's boot?
The situation became more dire when she saw Mirabelle turn the corner at the opposite end of the hallway and make her way towards the wine room.
'Shit! I haven't gotten to poison the wine yet! I have to find a way to tell her,' Daeris cursed in her thoughts. She had to find a way to tell Mirabelle that she hadn't been able get to the decanter yet. But how? There were three people between the two of them. They didn't know Daeris was there, but neither did Mirabelle. She had to get her attention without alerting the other three.
Mirabelle was steps away from entering the wine storage when Daeris deactivated her magic. It was only for a split second, but she hoped it would catch Mirabelle's attention and not that of the others. Mirabelle stopped at the open door, her eyes flicking over the corner where Daeris was. Her brows pinched together like she was unsure of what she saw. Daeris made herself visible for another moment, this time a second longer to communicate her unspoken message, then faded back into the shadows. She could only hope and pray that Mirabelle understood and the others did not see. However, one of the servants began to shift his eyes in her direction, and Daeris was all but convinced her cover was blown. The servant rubbed his eyes as if checking his vision, and Daeris was ready to make a dash to find a different hiding spot.
Cue Mirabelle, to the rescue once again. She stepped amidst the servants, pulling all of their attention to her. "You won't believe this," she said to them. "That captain Fortunata was sleeping with until he made a move on Yorina? He just came in through a passage downstairs. But that's not all; I saw Yorina coming from Fortunata's quarters while passing through the halls just now, looking spent as a maiden on her wedding night."
"No pissing way Fortunata'd bag her," one of the servants dismissed Mirabelle's claims. "Fortunata was real hot on the captain, and him getting with Yorlina behind her back hurt her pride somethin' good. If Fortunata wants anything from her, it's her head on a silver platter."
"But Mirabelle says the captain's here too," another servant interjected. "Maybe the three of them made up. Y'know...together. Or maybe Yorlina's trying to get in good with Fortunata so she won't hold it over the captain anymore."
"Both of you are ridiculous. There's no way either of them could get in Fortunata's good graces after what they pulled," the third cast her lot in the conversation. "If the captain's in through the tunnels, I say it's because he's not supposed to be here. I think he and Yorlina are working together to take out Fortunata because they know it's the only way they're ever going to have business in the Gold Coast so long as the Red Sails have the run o' things."
"There's only one way to find out," Mirabelle said, gesturing for them to follow her down the hallway. "They're both headed for the west wing. They're probably meeting."
"Now this I have to hear," the male servant chimed, and he and the two other servants followed Mirabelle around the corner and away from the wine room. Thanks to Mirabelle's interference, it was now safe for Daeris to do what she'd come to do. But how would this affect Mirabelle's role in their scheme? How was she going to get free to bring Fortunata her wine?
It couldn't have been that big of an issue, right?
Wrong. So very, very wrong.
Fortunata's wine storage looked modest from the outside. It was on the other side of a small kitchen occupied by a chef and a soldier, but the two were too invested in their conversation to pay mind to the room at their left. The wine room appeared to just be a small offset alcove, but stepping into the room proved otherwise. The room was expansive to the left and right, filled with racks of wine and other forms of alcohol. There was a cabinet that stood out, filled with special decanters of Fortunata's favorite flavors. This made things far more complicated than Daeris imagined. Mirabelle told her which one to poison specifically, but now that Mirabelle's future involvement was in doubt, the mission was jeopardized. What if Mirabelle wasn't the one to bring Fortunata the wine, and the servant who did brought the wrong one? It was a nightmare scenario, but Daeris prayed that luck would be in her favor. You'd think that it would always be in her favor considering who her mother was, but she didn't care for intervening too often, and Daeris had little ability to influence her luck herself. It was not a force that she knew much about, let alone how to control such a thing. Perhaps one day her mother would enlighten her, but that seemed less likely as the years passed.
Daeris opened the cabinet quietly and picked out the decanter with the golden ship etched into its neck. The vial of poison contained only a couple of drops, so pouring it into all of the decanters and hoping for the best was not an option. She almost felt like a hypocrite, complaining earlier that her work was not challenging enough. Getting what she asked for was not even close to a blessing. She grumbled a slew of curses and poured the poison into the decanter, then closed the cabinet and snuck back into the hallway.
Fortuna's quarters were easier to sneak into since she knew how to access the governor's secret passages. All Daeris had to do was re-enter the hidden alcove and poke around until she found the right door. There were a few misleading doors and dead ends, but eventually Daeris found a door that was pretentiously decorated enough to lead to someone's private quarters. She slipped into the room unnoticed, greeted by the sight of Fortunata standing in front of her fireplace. Daeris cleared her throat to get her attention, and the governor turned to her, startled.
"Pardon my discomposure, but you...weren't expected," Fortunata gathered herself. Weren't fucking invited, more like it, but she had a better grip on her pretend etiquette than to let the harsher statement escape. "I assume you're here to tell me that the deed is done?"
"Commander Scipio took a bath in his own blood last night, if that's what you're wondering," Daeris mused and crossed her arms. "Count Carolus was rather disturbed by the news of his passing."
Fortunata's tense posture eased and a sadistically saccharine smile occupied her wine-dyed lips. "Wonderful news. So wonderful that I'm going to overlook the sudden intrusion and offer you a drink."
Daeris returned her grin with one of her own, full of sultry curiosity. She needed to buy Mirabelle time. It was a last-ditch effort, but she didn't want to have to pull her blade unless the poison was no longer an option. She pulled down her mask and hood, revealing her face to the governer. It wouldn't matter, so long as Fortunata died, and it was the perfect way to lull someone into security. A sign of false trust, as if the pirate would even have the chance to give away her secret. It also helped that Daeris had a devil's face, pretty enough to hide the intent behind it.
"How kind of you, governor. If I may brag, I say I went well beyond the call of duty to honor your request," Daeris lulled with her honeyed words, putting a sway in her step as she approached Fortunata. "I hope you take that into consideration in the future, should you decide to enlist my services again."
"I admit, it'd be tempting to have the Dark Brotherhood at my beck and call," Fortunata mused, her eyes openly studying the assassin from head to toe. "Perhaps we can discuss a further partnership with your organization, and maybe further reward for you personally, since you went through so much trouble."
She turned in a snap, grabbing the attention of her meek serving girl that tried to sink into the corner and stay out of the assassin's line of view. "Wine, Edwina. The red one from Russafeld. Bring something for my friend, too. She seems like a red wine kind of woman," Fortunata commanded and began to walk towards the door to her balcony. As she passed Daeris, placed a lingering hand at the top of her arm. "Come, let's talk on the balcony. The view is far better."
Daeris arched a brow at the Fortunata's not-so-subtle flirtation. She had Fortunata on the hook, but it might all be for nothing if Edwina brought an untainted wine. The only thing Daeris could do was bide her time and see what happened. Even the gorgeous sunset and sexually-charged conversation couldn't rid her of the terror in her heart that she might genuinely fuck this mission up and ruin Mirabelle's hard work in the process. Not only would that be a black mark on her career as an assassin, but Mirabelle had been through enough in the past couple of months without Daeris making it worse for her. By Sithis, if anything good could come out of this, please don't let her actions hurt her friend!
"Something wrong?" Fortunata jarred Daeris from her thoughts. Apparently she let the worry slip onto her face. An uncommon mistake for the assassin.
"Apologies governor. I'm just nervous,"she replied, her tone coated with sugar and honey to draw Fortunata back int the illusion of a pleasant evening. "Assassins like myself don't usually find ourselves dining with such fine company, especially not the most powerful woman in all of Cyrodiil."
The governor scoffed, but the words did not pass her softly. The compliment weaved itself visibly into the twitch of her lips and the rise of her eyebrows. She rose from her seat, turning away from the assassin. "I can't claim such a boast. Not yet, at least."
"Are you so sure?" Daeris grinned. "Who could compete, my lady? Even the Empress-regent can't keep a grip on her city the way that you can. She's the most powerful in title, true, but look at what's happened to her rule. Her city, flooded with daedra, and she herself is nowhere to be found. The rest of Cyrodiil is a joke as well. Only the Gold Coast retains any of it's glory, and that's all thanks to you and your efforts."
Fortunata was an easy woman to speak to, if you knew how. Take a look at her actions and you'd see exactly what she wanted: power. If Daeris could tempt her with that, she could have her ear for as long as she needed.
"I dare say," she continued,"that it may even be in my organization's best interest to see you installed to a higher status. The chaos caused by the Tharn pretender's ineptitude has done much to halt our operations. If someone as capable as you were put in charge, I doubt you'd let it continue."
The governor turned back to Daeris, her mouth slightly agape as she thought of the possibilities. The most powerful organization in Tamriel potentially wanting to install her as empress? A picture of herself sitting on the ruby throne with a crown on her head formed in her mind, and suddenly the thought of allying with the Dark Brotherhood became more of a need than a maybe. Fortunata strode to stand in front of the assassin, leaning her arms on the chair and bringing their faces so close together that Fortunata could smell the citrus scent of her breath.
"I don't know if you're genuinely interested in putting me on the throne or just using that pretty little mouth of yours to get your organization some more business," she said in a low voice, "but if you make that happen, I'll give your associates a goddamn fortress and give them military sanctions so no one will be hunting them down anymore. I'll outlaw everything except the worship of Sithis if that's what your people want. And you, for being so personally involved, can have whatever your murderous little heart desires. If you make it happen."
"There is no 'if', Fortunata," Daeris smiled coyly. "If the Dark Brotherhood decides that something will happen, it will happen."
Before Fortunata could utter her response, the door to the balcony opened as the serving girl returned with the requested wine. But it was not Edwina. No, it was Mirabelle, much to Daeris's shock and gratitude.
"Mirabelle?" Fortunata questioned, stepping back and removing herself from the rather compromising situation she had started to create. "Where's Edwina?"
"I'm afraid she had a little spill, mistress," Mirabelle spoke to Fortunata, silently acknowledging Daeris with a glance. She placed the platter with the decanter -the silver one with a golden ship etched into the neck- onto the table beside Fortunata and poured her a drink. "You know as well as I do that she has two left feet. She's cleaning up the mess as we speak, and if I may be so bold to suggest, perhaps she should be left to cleaning for the forseeable future. It's a better use of her talents. Otherwise, you're practically just paying her to spill your rare imports."
"A noteworthy suggestion. I'll consider it," Fortunata sighed, visibly annoyed by Edwina's clumsiness. She took the fresh goblet of wine from the platter and walked toward the edge of the balcony to stare off at the sunset. Daeris had given her a lot to contemplate. Unfortunately, the governor would never see her new ambition come to life.
"It's refreshing how much more simple things are dealing with an assassin than it is with other people in positions of power like Count Carolus. Your people understand the simple truth of the world. Kill, or be killed. Get what you want or die trying," she ranted as she took a drink. "You'd think it'd be the other way around. That these noble people of the world would have the right of things. But they don't. They do worse things than the crimes they publicly denounce just to hide their little imperfections. Honor. Morality. It's all a defense mechanism; a way to say that you're better than someone, when really, you might just be worse."
The governor staggered for a moment, and Daeris and Mirabelle waited with bated breath to see it the poison would do its job. Then came the single trail of blood from Fortunata's nose. She dropped her goblet, her hand reaching for her throat as if she could claw away the burning that was overtaking her. Her eyes looked at the fallen goblet, and she made the connection.
"What have you done!?" she screeched at Mirabelle.
"A toast, Fortunata," Daeris grinned as she swirled her dry goblet between her fingers. "To the glory of the Night Mother."
"This life you built for yourself, this power you scratched and clawed and stepped on people for, everything you are or could ever be, is nothing," Mirabelle snarled. "You are nothing, Fortunata, and all that awaits you is nothing. You belong to the Void. To Sithis. And there are no thrones where you're going."
Fortunata opened her mouth as if to lash out further at the two, but the poison choked the air from her. All it took was one tiny misstep, and she lost her footing, tumbling over the balconey's edge to her death.
"Well, that makes the cover-up easier," Mirabelle shrugged as she and Daeris looked down over the edge at the fallen governor. "Poor Fortunata drunk herself into a stupor and took a tumble off her balcony. It was bound to happen eventually."
"Need any help?" Daeris offered.
"Thanks for the offer, darling, but I know exactly how to handle things. I just need to prepare my shocked face and muster up a few tears for when I go screaming through the corridor about what I witnessed," Mirabelle yawned. "Thank you, though, for going out of your way to make sure I can keep my cover here. I mean it. Other people would have not cared or would have panicked and messed everything up when things got more complicated. But you kept your composure, and I can't help but feel like it was for my sake."
"Of course it was for you. We're family, Mirabelle," Daeris said and placed her hand on Mirabelle's shoulder. She could see that sad twinkle in her eye that'd been there since Cimbar died. Mirabelle felt alone, and Daeris had no problem going out of her way to show her that she wasn't. She pulled the Breton into a tight hug, trying to communicate this further.
"Thank you," Mirabelle reiterated as she pulled away. "Now, go back to the Sanctuary and tell everyone the good news."
Daeris smiled and turned to exit through the balcony door. As she looked back, she could see Mirabelle staring out at the near-set sun and its crimson sheath, tears flowing down her cheeks, which caused her smile to fade and her to leave the castle in a downcast spirit. Daeris understood the feeling all too well; that loneliness the creeps up on you when you least expect it. She believed with all her heart that the Dark Brotherhood was her family; that she had a home with her fellow assassins. She lived with these people. She laughed with them. She mourned with them. She loved them.
And yet, she somehow still felt impossibly, unflinchingly alone.
She ventured through Fortunata's hidden passages, using the smuggler tunnels to find a hidden cave outlet that took her to the shore outside the castle. And when she was there and realized that no one was around to see her, she sat down on the sand of the beach and wept.