The wind whistled through the stony entrance to the grand city of Windhelm, the biting chill causing many a citizen to huddle up in their homes or in the local tavern, Candlehearth Hall, for a few pints of ale or mead. Inside the large gates, drunken men shouted cruel insults at the passing Dark Elves making their way from the Gray Quarter just to get some food. Guards watched this happen with little interest, their arms folded and minds closed to trudge through their shift, cursing their luck to have guard duty on such a day.
On her way through the city was Eindre, a Wood Elf who had lived in Skyrim her entire life. She was a hunter, her parents teaching her everything they had learned from their time in Valenwood. The Bosmer were known for their potent skill in archery, and Eindre was considered a savant in her own circle. As a mere child, her parents witnessed her kill an elk from a four hundred yards, a feat which most hunters could only achieve after decades of practise; a savant indeed.
Her and her family had a strong belief that they could trace their lineage back to Corvo Attano, a legendary assassin from the first era, before the rise of the empire. When he realised his daughter's proficiency with the bow, her father would often bring up of the link.
This is indeed something they were proud of. The tales of his exploits and how he toppled a corrupted regime of madmen and power hungry mongrels was nothing less than astonishing. In turn, however, it also prompted many to expect great feats of heroics from Eindre, which were soon shot down by her shy nature and careful demeanour, as opposed to a courageous and foolhardy woman with a fiery resolve.
Eindre approached the large gates and stared, never having seen such a grand entrance. She had never strayed beyond the rolling plains of Whiterun, and had only recently left their relative safety to travel. She was in awe of the sheer scale of everything. Maybe the Nords were compensating for something?
She gently pushed the door inward and was immediately greeted the bustle of the market and tavern, as well as the cries of beggars in the street, trying to make a spare septim or two for some bread.
The Bosmer, however, was here for one reason and one reason only. She made her way to the right, her eyes spotting the house that matched the description given for the Aretino residence. Rumour had it that a boy was in the process of contacting the Dark Brotherhood, the ruthless guild of assassins reportedly acting as agents of Sithis himself. Now, most saw them as a myth, villains of legend and story, but still they were feared.
Eindre had seen their work with her own eyes, though that assassin hadn't been a nearly as cold or silent as one would expect. No, the handiwork she had witnessed was sadistic, and messy… damned messy. She was here to talk try and talk the boy out of it, having travelled a long way to do so. Perhaps it was the experience of seeing what they could do that made her want no one to deal with them?
She walked ever closer, her breath easily fogging up in the cold air. Nord's looked at her with a glare, their bigotry shining unapologetically. Dunmer glanced at her, smiling and nodding their head as they passed, a gesture which was returned in a similarly friendly manner. Eindre had never seen such prejudice before, and if she were to be honest, she was frightened for her safety in this city, even if she could very well defend herself. The Nord's were known for impressive feats of savagery, most of them done by drunks and bandits with nothing better to do than pillage and rape a village or two.
Eindre soon arrived in front of the residence, her eyes carefully scanning the building as well as the door. Trying the handle, she wasn't surprised to find it locked tight. The lock would need to be picked to get inside, but she'd brought picks. Hopefully the occupant hadn't bolted the door too, or she'd have to try the windows. She was about to set to work when a pair of voices drifted round the corner, one clearly belonging to a young boy and the other to an elf. Eindre just managed to hide in the shadow of one of the stone pillars as they turned the corner.
As she suspected, a young Nord child came into view, followed by a tired looking dark elf.
"So it's true then? What everyone is saying? That Aventus is doing the Black Sacrament? Trying to contact the Dark Brotherhood?" The boy spoke of Aventus by given name, so Eindre assumed that he was a friend of the troubled boy.
The Dunmer then had a small smile on her face, the one that adults tended to use when they found something a child did cutely arrogant and innocent. "Oh, Grimvar…always with the nonsense. No, no, of course not. Those are just tales…"
A devilish look came upon Grimvar's face, something that children used to provoke a reaction. "Fine, then I'll invite him out to play. His house is right there. I'm gonna knock on his door…"
Eindre took a sharp breath. If the boy came over to the door he'd definitely see her. How would she explain hanging around a door she had no business being near with a bagful of lock picks?
A look of pure fear came upon the Dark Elf's face then. "No, child, wait! That boy, that house…they're cursed!"
"Ha! Then I'm right. I knew it. He's trying to have somebody killed."
A sigh left the Dunmer's lips. "Alright. I won't deny it, child. What you heard is true. But Aventus Aretino walks a dark path. His actions can only lead to ruin. Now, enough, we will speak no more of this. I am the only friend that you need."
They dispersed, and the Bosmer that was eavesdropping waited for their bodies to disappear beyond the corner before slowly releasing the breath she'd been holding. When she was sure there would be no more surprises, she hunched again over the lock, picked it open, and snuck inside the house.
"Sweet mother, sweet mother, send you child unto me, for the sins of the unworthy must be baptized in blood and fear…"
Eindre snuck slowly through the house as the words rang out in a monotonic manner, her steps suddenly sounding really loud on the wooden flooring of the Aretino residence. A rumour from the Bannered Mare had led her here; a hint dropped that a boy was performing the Black Sacrament in this house in Windhelm… Apparently the rumours were correct.
"Die, Grelod, die!"
She continued to sneak forward as the shouts of rage and hatred flowed without filter to her pointed Wood Elf ears, her heart rapidly speeding up in her chest as she got closer and closer, afraid of what she would find once she rounded the next corner. Eindre had heard horror stories about the Dark Brotherhood, and especially the Black Sacrament, though she was never one to believe in stories told in a tent at night. Details began to flow into her mind however, and it didn't matter how hard the archer attempted to block them out.
The stories ranged from the person having to drink blood to them simply having to chant the words over and over until an assassin came by, which Eindre definitely was not. The only reason she was here was to hopefully talk the boy out of it, convince him to go talk to the Jarl or something for shelter.
Once she rounded the corner, Eindre was nearly convinced to turn back immediately. There was a display set up, which consisted of a skeleton, as well as a human heart and a large chunk of flesh near it. The room stank of blood, but there was also the faintest scent of Nightshade in the air, which only served to increase the Bosmer's queasiness at the sight. The…effigy, for lack of a better word, was surrounded by candles with a boy knelt in front, stabbing it again and again with a steel dagger. He had not noticed her, prompting her to think he was too engrossed in his ritual to realise her presence. His lack of awareness also gave her the confidence to take the last few steps.
When Eindre put a hand on the child's shoulder, he jumped and turned around, dark eyes meeting her golden ones, and a smile quickly spread across his young face as he stood, prompting her to do the same, perhaps an unconscious urge to display dominance in this situation.
"It worked! I knew you'd come, I just knew it! I did the Black Sacrament, over and over, with the body and the…things. And then you came! An assassin from the Dark Brotherhood."
Eindre stopped now, her mind caught off guard by his enthusiasm that she had come his mistaking her for an assassin. The title sent an cold thrill through her spine and body. What was happening to her? She knew it wasn't fear, as her neck hairs weren't standing, but it also wasn't any sickness, as she had prayed to Stendarr not too long before the trip and had no experiences since that could produce a sickness.
"I'm sorry…I'm not who you think I am…"
Aventus' eyes seemed not at all fazed by her dismissal. "Of course you are! I prayed, and you came! Now you can accept my contract."
He went on to explain that he was an orphan, as she knew, and was sent to Honorhall because no one wanted to take him in. There was a woman there, Grelod the Kind, who definitely did not live up to her nickname with how she treated the children. He said that he ran away, came home, and performed the ritual to make a contract to kill her.
Eindre listened to his story with mounting sorrow, Aventus' words slowly pulling at her heart. She knew she had to be strong, to convince him to go back, something, but she just couldn't. It was the way he choked up when speaking about his mother, maybe, or the way he looked so cheerful to see her. She figured that it was the former of the two options, as she herself had lost both of her parents, though not in such a peaceful manner. She closed her eyes to dispel memories that surfaced before looking at the boy before her with a newfound resolve.
"Okay then, Aventus. I'll accept this contract, and kill Grelod for you."
A/N: Hello there, readers of this story! I would like to thank you for taking the time to read it all the way through, it really means a lot; either you were engrossed, or reading through and laughing at how silly it was. Either way, it was a read, and I appreciate it. If you enjoyed or hated it, please, plant a review if you have the time and patience.