Hello everyone!
Thank you so much for your patience. My computer has been fixed. New and shiny harddrive all roaring and ready to go! That being said: Welcome to the remake of "A little father gone"! It's more fleshed out now, and it's running smoothly, so hopefully I won't hit any kinks to continue writing it. I really hope that you enjoy this. I'd really appreciate it if you could leave a review or two to let me know what you think!
Thanks! - TEA
It had been raining in Markarth for days.
The silver-blooded city had been flooded with icy water. The stone streets were slick and dangerous, even for the most surefooted, and the drainage trench that wound through the city roared over the Understone Keep and into the river. The water had nowhere to go but downhill, there was no soil to drink it in, just the proud grey stonework that the Dwemer had left behind. At times the heavy drops almost turned to sleet, leaving tiny ice crystals on the lips of vendor stalls and uneven edges of stone steps. As such, the people of Markarth carried on with their lives unhappily. The cold and wet had sapped everyone of their good moods, and they grunted and snapped at each other with little provocation. A case of the sniffles made its round amongst the children and the shivers crept into everyone.
Above the flooded streets, seated against the guard tower just before the sheer drop, was a shapeless grey figure. Against the grey stone and the grey rainfall, it was almost indistinguishable from the backdrop. The small Redguard woman barely moved at all, and eyes drawn upward passed over her without recognition. That was just how she wanted it.
If the weather had been clear, she could have seen over the wall that shut Markarth up against the mountain. She could have seen if her target was coming up the road. She had been in the city for three days, waiting for a certain Nord merchant to arrive. The terrible rain had undoubtedly stalled him, and when the sun returned Markarth would welcome him with open arms.
Karma would welcome him too.
She was more than ready to be out of the cold and the wet. She was ready to return to her home in the Pine Forest of southern Skyrim. But for now, she sat silent vigil, gaze fixed on the Markarth Gate. Her cloak was heavy about her shoulders, weighted by the rain, and tiny ringlets of her hair had been plastered to her skin, itching at her. Across her lap was a bow protected by a deerskin tube. Unstrung, it was useless, but in the event her target came into sight it would be ready in a few short moments.
Karma was the newest member of the Dark Brotherhood. She had joined the little ragtag group only a few months previously, but had wasted no time in proving her worth to her new family members. She had been picked up by the Shadowscale in Riften, covered in blood and seething with rage. He'd complimented her on the dead soldier at her feet. She'd felt foolish at the time - it had not been her quickest or cleanest kill - but when the Stormcloak had let his hand wander down her backside and lifted his helm to touch his lips to her ear, she'd thought little beyond punishing him for the violation. The Shadowscale asked a few questions and left her at the Bee and the Barb. A few days later, a courier had found her and delivered a roll of parchment. On it was only a black handprint, a symbol she recognized from the Argonian's red and black armor.
She wore the symbol now as well, hidden beneath her sodden cloak. Having nowhere else to go, she had easily moved into the Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary, hidden a quick skip away from Falkreath. A sense of trust, of community, had been kindled in the long-time-loner, and Karma felt a warmth stirring in her chest at the thought of home.
Though it had been rough at the time, the Redguard thought fondly of her first weeks in the Brotherhood. It had seemed that none of her Dark Brothers and Sister had liked her. More than once she had almost left under the belief that she was wasting her time. They had demanded proof of her skills, something she had never had to provide before. They had doubted her. Karma was small by any definition of the word. Even as strong as she was, she wouldn't last long in a fight against a Nord warrior with a battleaxe. But she was fast, and she was agile, and what she lacked in strength she made up for in her incredibly steady hands. Her marksmanship was her greatest skill, and it gave her the ability to make quick, clean kills from a distance. She never missed.
Though she had already proven herself, Karma strove to do well. With the Dark Brotherhood being little more than a scary story to keep the babes in after nightfall, it was imperative that every contract be completed perfectly. It was no secret that they were struggling, but their leader, Astrid, kept them all together and looked after each of them.
The rain started to come down harder, and Karma squinted out into the thickening sheets of water as if she could part them with her glare. The air was so saturated it felt as though she was breathing underwater and a crust of ice had began to form on the edges of her hood. She could have waited it out but the young assassin finally yielded to Mother Nature and left her post. Surely she would kill better with thawed fingers and a hot meal in her belly.
The mud was caked so heavily onto her boots that they felt like lead on her feet. Karma's fingers pinched into the merchant's pockets, plucking up septims and gems and whatever else could be fenced off for value. Among his belongings was a black book with a dragon symbol on the front. She recognized it as the emblem of the Imperial Army and opened it curiously. The title was "The Book of the Dragonborn" and there was a feather shoved between two pages to mark a place. She moved it to the front. She was always collecting books, and this was a new one.
With the dead man picked clean, Karma commandeered the horse that had belonged to him. The sand-colored mare was friendly and didn't seem at all bothered to be mounted by a person who was not her owner. The Redguard was happy to see that her days of travelling by carriage were over.
The ride to Falkreath would be uneventful if she was lucky. The travel would give her time to think. She was eager to get home. Just before she'd left to pursue this contract, things in the Sanctuary had changed. The Night Mother had arrived, and with her came her Keeper. Though she'd only glimpsed the man in passing, the jester in motley of Brotherhood colors had intrigued her...and the Night Mother as well. But she'd been spirited off before she could ask any questions.
Alone on the road, the thoughts were downright frustrating now. Karma fitfully adjusted the bow on her back, one of the only ways to fidget in a saddle. Questions itched at her. Who was the Night Mother? Who was the Keeper, and why had he brought the Night Mother to Skyrim? Why was everyone so edgy about the arrival despite it being expected? And why had Astrid booted her out of the Black Door like a child who had broken a vase or stolen a biscuit?
Not knowing the answers heated her blood, and that only seemed to chill her more fiercely. The air was still sticky from the rain and the moisture collected at her brow and the exposed nape of her neck. She wiped at it unhappily and pressed her heels into the sides of her new steed to hurry the trip. She hoped the rain hadn't passed towards the Pine Forest or the entire journey would be miserable.
Karma left the mare at the Falkreath stables and paced down the road, vanishing into the trees. She skipped quickly down the gentle slope and rounded into the shallow alcove where the Black Door was nestled into the earth. It was difficult to see in the fading light of the evening. It hummed with an energy that made her tremble to her core when she lifted her hand and pressed her palm over the handprint that decorated the broad forehead of the skull. Her fingers barely covered the blood-red mark.
"What...is the music...of life?"
Karma answered the Door without hesitation, "Silence, my Brother."
"Welcome...home."
Beyond the Door, the air was cool and carried the scent of damp earth and dust. Karma drank in the familiarity. She was ready for a long rest in the one place she felt completely safe...she never slept well when she was out in the world. The Redguard descended further into the Sanctuary, pausing in the first chamber. As always, Astrid was there, putting together contracts for the "higher ranking" Brothers and Sisters. While Karma wasn't given the swill anymore, she didn't exactly get the wine either.
Astrid seemed tense but pleased to see her,
"Oh good, you're back. Did you get stuck in that awful rainstorm?"
Karma nodded, grimacing and pulling at her still damp clothing. The whole ride back had been a mess of mud and wet and biting insects. She ran a gloved hand through her tangled mop of badly-cut hair and huffed,
"Haven't been dry in five days."
Astrid smiled apologetically,
"You did well. News travels faster than horses. Good job. Good, clean kill." the Nord woman paced into the connecting room and returned with a purse, "Here, your reward. Gold, plain and simple. Don't spend it all in one place~."
Karma made a face at her and tucked away the septims. Astrid studied her for a while and must have seen the exhaustion peeking through. She stepped back to her table, leaning against it,
"Go get cleaned up. Have something to eat and rest. You've earned it."
"Are you sure you don't need anything?" Karma asked, reading the stiff posture of her leader.
"We can talk after you've slept. But come to me once you've woken. It's important." Astrid shifted almost nervously and a shadow passed over her face. "As soon as you wake."
"As soon as I wake." Karma repeated before heading further into the Sanctuary.
Karma could hear the voices of the other Brotherhood members when she entered the main chamber. She crossed to the stairs and went straight to the sleeping area, digging into her trunk for clean, dry clothes. Finding suitable sleeping garments, an over-sized tunic and leggings, she returned to the main chamber and set her things down at the edge of the pond before beginning to disrobe. The pool was the common bathing site despite its openness. It wasn't as though anyone had any lick of modesty. Karma certainly didn't.
The water was almost bitingly cold and her teeth chattered as she washed the travel from her body. She was out and dressed and drying her hair before anyone noticed she'd returned.
"Ah, it's you, beef-roast. Thought I smelled something funny."
Karma sneered up at Arnbjorn from under the towel over her head. When she pulled it down, she tugged her fingers through the knotted ebony strands in an attempt to tame them. It didn't matter how hard she fought with her poorly cut locks, they never obeyed her. That's what she got for giving herself haircuts with the single slash of a dagger. She never looked presentable. She was all leather and dirt and bad table manners, but no one here really minded.
The werewolf laughed at her comeback. He'd become more friendly in the past few weeks or so, but the food-based nickname had stayed. Arnbjorn was obviously the most aggressive of the bunch, and quite intimidating, but Karma knew that he would never harm her.
"You just got back, eh? How'd it go?"
"Fine." Karma answered, gathering up all her discarded clothing and standing up straight. She barely came up to his collarbone and had to look up quite far to meet his eyes. "Wet. Long. He died like an oblivious baby elk." She tapped her breastbone, indicating where the arrow had struck the merchant, "He didn't so much as glimpse me."
"Damn fine kill, then." Arnbjorn's tone was almost approving. It was as close to praise as she was likely to get from the moon-born Nord, but she appreciated it nonetheless.
Exhaustion tugged at her again, and Karma scrubbed at her face to try and relieve the heavy feeling on her eyelids. She glanced about her to make sure she hadn't left anything on the ground and was distracted by the sight of the remnants of a wooden crate. When she had left the Sanctuary a week previously, that crate had been standing upright against the wall - all that Karma had seen of the mysterious Night Mother before she had been booted out the door. Arnbjorn followed her gaze and a scowl settled onto his face.
There it was. That tense, negative reaction.
Karma couldn't help herself, "What's wrong?"
The Nord stared her down. He wasn't trying to intimidate her, it was just his way. Perhaps it was just the Beastblood. Arnbjorn took a while to answer,
"Everything has been difficult since that giggling fool brought the Night Mother here." His words were cut sharply, each one dropping in one after the other like heavy stones, "He keeps babbling about the old ways and his duty. Astrid is ready to give him a second smile."
Karma grimaced. Things were already so strained? She'd only been gone for a few days. What had she returned to? She realized that this was probably what Astrid wanted to speak to her about. Which reminded her...
The Redguard hugged the bundle of damp, travel-worn clothing closer to her body,
"I'm going to sleep. Promise no smiles will be slashed while I rest? I want to at least meet this Keeper."
"No, you don't." was the short reply.
Karma went back to her bed and kicked the soiled clothes beneath it. She laid her new book on the bedside dresser and climbed under all the furs stacked onto her mattress. It was like heaven. The young assassin heaved a long breath and drifted off quickly.
She had gone to sleep early and so hunger woke her. Lying in bed, she lamented skipping dinner. She'd thought she'd sleep through the night. Everyone else had turned in as well, and the Sanctuary was still and silent. It was almost frightening without the voices and laughter of her kin.
Karma rose quietly and made her way down to the dining table. At home in the dark, the dim light from the dying coals in the hearth was enough for her to navigate by. Dinner had been cleared away but there were still loaves of hard-bread laid out, and Karma devoured a heel ravenously. It would sate her until morning when Nazir made porridge or oatmeal. She paused when she climbed the wooden stairs, letting heat from the logs seep into the pads of her feet. The stone floor was uncomfortably chilled. Somehow it felt nice to stand there in the dark with the silence pressing in on her from all sides. Peaceful.
Then a strange shiver wracked her body.
Karma was no stranger to being watched, and she could feel the eyes on her. But when she cast her gaze through the dark, she couldn't pinpoint the source of the feeling. That's really all it was. A feeling. Something was pulling at her...like a whisper.
The Redguard woman searched along the stone floor with her bare toes. All the warmth had been sucked out of her and she trembled with cold as she entered the hall. The torches were guttering out, flickering long shadows along the rough walls, but at least she could see. The hall was empty and the cavernous darkness of the main chamber beyond it, lit faintly with crimson by the ever-glowing forge, seemed like some portal to hell. The doors across the way were closed. Karma frowned at them. She could never recall seeing them shut before. She crossed the hall and pressed her hands into the cool black iron, shoving the two panels inward. The hinges squeaked in protest.
The room beyond was dimly lit by two torches in sconces on the far side. They were hissing and crackling as the fire consumed the last of the oil drenched fabric. Between them, standing before the glass window that portrayed the Dread Father, Sithis, was a massive iron maiden. No...it was a coffin. A massive iron coffin. The metal was smooth and polished so thoroughly that it gleamed in the dim light. A brutish face decorated the top, eyes closed and sunken. It was beautiful...in a frightening way. Her feet carried her across the floor and she halted just before the it.
She knew without having to ask that she was standing before the Night Mother.
The shiver raked through her again, powerful enough to knock her off her feet and chilling her to the bone. That feeling was enveloping her. It was pull, like someone was trying to speak to her but she couldn't quite hear the words.
Karma felt her arm move, her hand reaching towards the coffin. There were hinges, so there were doors. The coffin would open. Perhaps, if she opened it, she could understand-?
A hand shot out and grabbed her wrist before her fingers could brush the metal. The spell was broken and Karma wrenched back, air exploding into her lungs. Had she been holding her breath?
She stood back, panting and wide-eyed, every nerve on fire. The torchlight glinted off of a pair of bright amber eyes, shadowed by deep, purplish shadows. They were set into an unfamiliar face, one wearing an almost chastising expression. The man lifted his hand, pressing his gloved fingers against his lips,
"Mustn't touch." he said lightly, a smile twisting onto his face. His voice was high and full of mirth, "The fresh-meat will smudge the wax and sweet, sweet Cicero will be up until dawn polishing-polishing away~"
Karma wet her lips and scowled at the newcomer, grounding herself. She exhaled shortly, annoyed at being startled. It alarmed her how easily he'd snuck up on her. She was usually too vigilant, too aware. She didn't like anyone who could out-stealth her. But he was part of the Brotherhood, a part of the family, so he wouldn't - couldn't - do her any harm.
"You must be the Keeper." she said, her voice shakier than she liked.
"Yes, yes~." he let out a giggle, "Keeper of our mother, the Unholy Matron. Humble Cicero at your service." His eyes traveled over her form, drinking her in. His thin eyebrows cocked upwards, vanishing under the fringe of red hair that stuck out from under the jester's cap he was wearing. In fact, despite the early hour, he was still dressed head-to-toe in motley. "And who might this creeping little mouse be~?"
The Redguard woman felt her cheeks heat up. She didn't know if that was a reference to her size, though it wouldn't be surprising. This man, Cicero, Imperial by the looks of him, was not a tall man by far...and yet she had to look up to meet his gaze.
"...people call me Karma." she answered finally, and the jester seemed amused.
"What on earth brought you here, to the dearest Night Mother, in the middle of this dark and dreary night, hmmm~?" Cicero glanced fondly towards the massive metal structure, then focused his gaze back on her. His eyes were intense, too bright and too wide, "Did she...call you...perhaps?"
The hopeful tone in his voice confused her. Karma chose not to answer, instead turning her body towards the doors opening into the hallway.
"Sorry for disturbing you. I'm going back to bed."
Cicero frowned at her, but his expression quickly shifted back into something more neutral. He rubbed his hands together and licked his lips but didn't try to stop her. In fact, he closed the iron doors behind her, but not before singing a funny little goodnight at her. Karma crossed the hall quickly and climbed back into her bed. Again, the shiver lanced through her body. Why couldn't she get warm? She curled tightly under the furs, yanking them all the way up to her ears. She felt frustrated and more exhausted than before.
This chapter is a little longer than previously posted ones. Please let me know if this length is uncomfortable and I can cut it down a bit for following chapters.
Onwards!