I have been wanting to write this for years and finally figured out how to do so! Skyrim belongs to Bethesda and Styrr and Ryvren belong to me.

Enjoy!

The skeleton was carefully placed together on the ground with a campfire as the only source of light. Taking a breath, the young man summoned a purple ball of energy in his right hand and shot it at the skeleton. The nord smiled in joy as the skeleton slowly rose to its feet, making him run a hand through his long, blond hair in excitement. He's work is improving! He frowned when the skeleton turned its skull passed him, making him spin around to the entrance of the cave and his blue eyes widened. "Ryvren!" Standing before him was his best friend, an older dunmer, with shoulder-length black hair and crimson eyes. What was unusual, however, was the fact that he was wearing a strange black and crimson, leather armor. "What… how did… How did you find me?" Styrr arched a brow. He hadn't seen his friend in a week and this cave was his secret.

"I would never had thought," he said in a thick dunmeri accent, "that you, Styrr Erikson, was a necromancer."

Styrr looked at the skeleton, then back to his friend. "Uh, yeah. How did you…." his voice trailed. Something was off with his friend. "Ryvren?"

The dunmer took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "I'm sorry, Styrr." He removed his twin ebony swords from his hip. "The Dread Lord has sent for you."

The Dread Lord?

"Sithis?" he whispered. "You're… you're an assassin for the Dark Brotherhood? When? What? I thought they disappeared!"

"Like how people thought dragons were gone?" he grimly questioned, stepping forward.

The necromancer knew crossing blades with Ryvren Draven was a death sentence and there was no way he was going to kill his best friend! "Ryvren! Wait! Please! I can't… You're my friend!" He reluctantly summon frost in his hands. "I don't want to fight you."

"I'm sorry, Styrr. The contract and payment has been accepted. I had to accept it so I'd know you died painlessly."

The skeleton ran to the assassin, but in a swift swipe of the sword, the skull was lopped off and the skeleton fell into a purple, glowing pile of ash.

Styrr swallowed, backing away from the nearing assassin. "You… you knew I was the contact? I saved your life. You could've froze to death and you took the contract–"

"Shut up. You're either going to try to fight me or not, so make up your mind."

The young man gasped when his back met cold stone; his gaze jumped from his friend to the duel swords, then back to him. "Tell me who ordered the contract! I'll kill them! We both know I'm capable and I will join you! Or… are you considering of actually killing your friend without mercy?"

"You? Joining the Dark Brotherhood?" he spat without blinking.

"Yes! I've killed before! On the battlefield!"

He smiled with a glint in his eye as he neared. "Really? Only on the battlefield? We both know that's not true."

Styrr frowned, blood draining from his face. "What?" he whispered.

"Styrr Erickson!" he shouted with a smile. "The soldier who was honorably discharged from the Stormcloak military for being wounded in battle is now a murderous necromancer!" he viciously sneared.

The nord frowned. "That's why you're here," he whispered. "Someone hired you to kill me for murder."

He stopped walking. "I would never had thought that you, of all people, would be a murderer."

"I can't say the same about you," he lamely joked even though it was true.

Ryvren bowed his head and looked away, then back at him. "I don't want to kill you, Styrr. As an assassin, I don't think about it. I just do, but you, I have to get in the mindset. You're my friend. They were worried I wasn't able to do it, but damn, they are right." He sheathed his swords.

Styrr slowly relaxed. "Since I can't be a soldier anymore, I am willing to join you. The war… changed me. I crave this… death. I've always found necromancy fascinating and I've even killed for it."

"The one who sent the contract was the husband of whose wife you killed. You already have blood on your hands. You don't have to explain it to me."

The man slowly relaxed with a nervous, twisted smile. "I-I don't know what's wrong with me. The battlefield was one thing, but this is, I… I love necromancy. That woman! I used her as my second experiment and it worked!" He grinned. "Then I was able to bring the skeleton back and–" He slowly frowned as he remembered sliting the Imperial woman's throat. A man's wife. If someone killed Ysolda…. He slowly drifted his gaze to the ash pile. "No. Maybe… Maybe it is better."

"What?"

"I've killed two people. That woman and a man. My first kill. I even used his heart for alchemy." He walked around, tugging at his hair. "I think I lost my mind. I killed two people and it didn't even phase me till now!" He began to pace. "If someone murdered my wife, I would go in a frenzy, but I killed another man's wife and I didn't even care! I cut her throat like an animal! I used her body for bringing her back to life! The way she staggered for a moment and fell into ash!" He breathing quickened and eyes wide with horror. "Why was I blind? Why did I not care?" Tears pricked his eyes, snapping his gaze to his best friend. "Why don't I care?"

"Styrr."

"I killed two strangers, but knowing you were going to kill me, I couldn't even fight you! But strangers?" He bitterly laughed, throwing his hands in air. "Let me stab them in the damn heads! And they were just the beginning! We all know that! You even know that!"

"Styrr!"

He spun to the assassin. "You knew this! You knew I murdered and you wanted it to be quick! You wanted me to know it was you! You know I deserve death and you refuse! We both know that I will kill again! I need to be put down!" He froze, taking a step back. "I don't know how you became an assassin, but I'm not surprised. I've seen you fight. You're skilled. Quick. Cold. Easy. I crave it." He stared into the fire on his right. "I need it."

"You will kill again."

"I know," he whispered.

Ryvren approached him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Return to the house and kill the husband then come to the Falkreath and find the Black Door off the road before the city. When questioned, answer with 'Silence, my brother,' and the door with open. Remember the old woman at the orphanage that was murdered a week ago?"

"Yeah?" he whispered, not looking at his friend.

"I'm the one that killed her in her sleep."

His eyes widened and snapped his gaze to him as his friend removed his hand.

His friend pulled a black hood over his head, turned, and began to walk away. "See you at home… brother."