So you wish to summon the Dark Brotherhood? You wish to see someone dead? Pray, child. Pray, and let the Night Mother hear your plea. You must perform that most profane of rituals - the Black Sacrament. Then wait, child, for the Dread Father Sithis rewards the patient. You will be visited by a representative of the Dark Brotherhood. So begins a contract bound in blood.
It was a Middas in Frostfall on the year 3E 423, the last Middas of the frosty month and the wedding day of Count Goldwine's daughter, Lyra Goldwine. Once the subject of much scandal ten years ago, Lyra had returned from a visit to the Imperial City in disgrace, pregnant to an unknown father at the age of eighteen, she had been sent to a temple of Kynareth where she had given birth to twins, a boy and a girl. The death of Countess Goldwine to a swift but fatal disease had made the Count relent his anger for his daughter and request her return. At the behest of his sons he had consented to allowing his grandchildren to return with Lyra and welcomed them to the family.
Now at last the Count's desire to see his daughter properly wed was being granted, to the middle-aged, modestly wealthy nobleman Lord Siegfried. Count Ormellius Goldwine stood waiting by the door for her arrival as the musicians played a lively tune in anticipation of the bride. Ormellius was nervous, hiding his twitching hands behind his back as he glanced at the untouched bronze goblets of wine longingly before catching the eye of his eldest son Lucan who stood at the top of the grand hall jesting with the smiling groom Siegfried. 'He's pleasant enough,' Ormellius thought in an attempt to assure himself, 'not handsome but not ugly either but she could see past that and learn to love him.'
The hall was packed with eager eyed courtiers, all sneaking glances at the open door Ormellius stood near, hoping to spy the shy bride first. The women were in their finest dresses with their most prized jewels on display, each hoping to outdo the other, and many hoping to impress a wealthy bachelor. The men had made an equal effort, hoping to win a future bride for themselves or garner notice from the Count. Even now on what should be a day, or night rather, of love and happiness politics were at work, and Ormellius was wise enough to know that the majority of Kvatch's elite had not come to wish his daughter happiness but to instead gain his favour.
Upstairs away from the gossip, music and bright, flickering candle lights Lyra studied her pallid reflection as her daughter fiddled with her small, silver tiara and her son scratched at his waistcoat with a scowl. Lyra had felt unease since the morning and now that the sun had descended it had turned into dread. She had ordered her handmaidens from her room in frustration just twenty minutes ago, thinking that the peace from them might calm her but it had only served to make her anxious. Something was going to happen tonight, she could feel it like she felt the soft autumn air against her cheek, soft and yet foreboding, a danger not quite formed.
She looked behind her in the mirror, the room seemed small, claustrophobic even with only one minute, arched window and a single door for escape, one could be trapped here very easily. She fixed the ring of silver and white roses on her head, smoothed down her golden brown waves and turned away from the mirror at last. She needed out of the room, perhaps space would calm her down.
"Come children," she said, trying to sound happy and failing, "it's time to go." She extended a slender hand out to each of them, her son Thomas accepted it quickly whilst Alexandra glanced at it with disinterest before looking up at her mother suspiciously.
"Why are you marrying Seefred?" the ten-year-old queried impetuously, unable to pronounce her future step-father's name correctly.
"Because he is a kind man and he will treat us well," Lyra answered sincerely as she shook her hand at Alexandra impatiently. She could almost feel the walls shrinking around them and was convinced the shadows in the room were getting longer and darker.
"He's not our father," Alexandra commented boldly with a look of distain.
"No," Lyra admitted as she thought briefly of a man she had tried to forget, "but we have discussed that."
"Daddy's lowborn," Thomas commented cheerfully as he smiled up at his mother, "and no one can know."
"That's right," Lyra remarked quickly as Alexandra took her hand at last. Between the hands of her twins Lyra felt a further rush of dread, and her grip upon them turned tight. She loved them more than anything or anyone in the world, Alexandra was so brave and there was not much that got by her, whilst Thomas was loving and trusting, together they were stronger, stronger than their mother.
Lyra escorted them out to the stone corridor knowing that if she lingered any longer her paranoid father would send a maid or even one of her brothers up for her. She could not blame him for worrying that she would not go ahead with this marriage; she had waited ten years after all.
Lyra felt herself tensing as her palms began to sweat. She forced herself to take a step forward, which wasn't easy in her high heeled, silver and white laced shoes. She looked beautiful but there was nothing practical about her bridal attire. She jumped again; certain she had seen a shadow move up ahead near the door.
"What's wrong mummy?" Thomas queried as he looked up at her with worry.
"Nothing," she answered quickly, "I've just turned the wrong way that's all." She turned around, rerouting her children in the opposite direction and hurried them into a brisk walk.
"Aren't we going to the hall?" Alexandra questioned suspiciously. "This goes to Tilly and Fiona's rooms."
"It's just another way to go," Lyra dismissed her daughter's question as her shoes clacked off the stone slabs noisily. 'I'm being foolish,' she scorned herself as they reached the steps and began their descent, 'and scaring the children too, honestly Lyra get a hold of yourself you're attending your wedding not your funeral.'
Alexandra's scream was her warning. She ducked to avoid the blade slashing out of the darkness and immediately herded her children to the left with a cry. She kicked off her shoes and shrieked, "run!" She pulled her children up a narrow hall to the left, glancing over her shoulder just once to see the shadow that pursued them.
"Mummy look!" Thomas shouted in horror.
She looked ahead; another stood there, a living shadow, a being hidden in black cloth from head to toe with a sickle in one hand. She pushed through a door in the right, shoving her children in first before slamming the door behind them. Yes, she had guessed right, this was Tilly's room; at least she still had some luck with her! "Under the bed children quick," she commanded quietly, "there's a trapdoor in the floor, move swiftly now my babes." She urged them down, crawling after them under the single bed, knowing they could only have seconds left.
Her heart was thumping wildly against her, her breaths were tight and short and the sweat lashed down her staining her now wrinkled white dress. She had no time to think, to wonder what was going on or why, she could only act. She moved fast, grasping the iron handle in the middle of the stone slabs under the bed and pulling it up with a grunt. A square piece of the floor popped up and with a groan she pushed it forward, wincing at the grinding sound it made as it scraped along the floor. She heard the door being kicked in as she pushed Thomas down and then Alexandra before following after them ungracefully.
They landed in the basement below uncomfortably but uninjured, their land softened by the pile of straw stacked there. "Quickly, to your feet!" Lyra snapped as she pushed herself upright, cursing as her dress tripped her up and Alexandra's seemed to envelope her like a tent. She grabbed them both once more, her grip tight enough to hurt, and hurried them up the three basement steps and through the door into the wine cellar.
The twins were too frightened to question what was going on and remained as quiet as mice as their mother hastened them past dusty bottles and rows of barrels, leading them into the larder room and then finally out and into the path of a startled manservant. "Not a word," Lyra ordered him sternly before she spied the side door where the waste was thrown out and urged her children out through it. She paused just once, wasting a few precious seconds to seize a knife used for chopping carrots to slice a few inches of her dress before she slipped the knife into the silver and pearl belt about her waist.
Outside it was a cold dusk, frost shone silvery white on the grass, and the sky was crisp and clear, a velvety purple black dotted with the vibrant constellations, which parted for the moons Secunda and Masser. It was dark, the torchlight came from the castle itself and where iron posts stood high on the main path leading up to the castle, that would be too obvious and dangerous a path to take.
"Mum," Alexandra hissed out as her green eyes went wide.
Lyra looked to where her daughter did, to a small group of trees out of which three shadowed figures stepped. 'They're determined,' she thought in horror. If she could get out of the city's walls and off the bluff there would be plenty of trees to hide in but right now they were trapped. She turned from the figures and ran, dragging her horrified children with her. She prayed the shadows might conceal them as she hastened to a barn up ahead wondering if they could hide there or perhaps find weapons or help.
They hurried in and Lyra immediately urged her twins up the wooden ladder to the floor of hay above. She did not tell them to hide or be silent, it was unnecessary and Alexandra had enough wit to pull her brother deep into the hay with them. Lyra looked about with wild eyes for a weapon, seizing the best thing she could find, a scythe left harmlessly against the wooden wall. Perhaps she could fight them off. 'No,' she thought to herself with despair, 'you know who they are Lyra, the Dark Brotherhood, they are skilled assassins and if they want you dead then soon you will be.' Still she wouldn't go without a fight and as long as Alexandra and Thomas were spared then that was all that mattered.
She smelt the smoke before she saw it and whirled around in alarm. There at the doorway, it was billowing thick and black as the walls turned amber and then red as flames started to climb up them. 'They mean to burn us alive!' she thought in horror as she turned to scream for the children. She shrieked as a small ball of fire hissed down, licking at her face as it did, immediately burning her right cheek and part of her brow. The roof was on fire, so was the back of the barn!
"Alex, Thomas!" she called out in horror as she tossed the scythe to one side and ran to the ladder. She was stopped as another large ball of fire crashed down with a plank of wood, causing her to halt and raise her arm up in an attempt to shield her face. She could hear them screaming as her eyes began to water and she began to cough on the smoke. "CHILDREN! she screamed in alarm.
"Mummy!" Thomas sobbed out. He could not see, there was hay and smoke everywhere, burning his lungs and his eyes. He had lost Alexandra as he scrambled through the hay in a panic. He could hear the roar of the fire, feeling it stretching out to him, threatening him as he tried to veer away from it and only seemed to crawl into more. There was a creak before the wood beneath him gave way and he fell with a loud scream. The wood shattered beneath him putting splinters in his hands as his arms were burned by the flames spreading around him.
Lyra spotted her son's silhouette in the wreckage and ran towards him, seizing him up just before the fire caught him. She clutched him close to her chest and whirled about the building in alarm, searching for Alexandra. "ALEXANDRA!" she shouted before a coughing spasm took her. She could see a potential exit, a hole in the back on the barn that the flames were threatening to devour. They could only have thirty seconds or so to make it.
"Here mummy!" Alexandra staggered up from another pile of debris, her face black with smoke, her lip bloodied and one arm bruised. Lyra rushed towards her, grabbing her by one hand before she jumped through the gap. They heard the wood collapsing behind them as they just made it through. Alexandra bit back a squeal of pain as she felt sparks bite at her back as the fire roared through the wall, devouring it hungrily.
Under the cover of darkness Lyra led her children, down through the city, weaving through buildings as she avoided the main path out of the city. She reached the tall, stone walls of Kvatch at last and let out a gasp as an arrow whizzed past her ear to smash into the stone before her. They were unrelenting in her pursuit, and too many, she would tire whilst their tired would just be replaced. They probably had the entire city surrounded, running was futile and yet she had to try for the sake of her twins.
She moved to the small, iron gate she knew sat in the side of a wall, rusting and forgotten, hidden behind clumps of ivy. She tugged out one of only four keys that could open the gate and hurried to free its lock. It snapped open after some jiggling before the gate gave a creak as she opened it. She pushed her children through before shutting the gate as quietly as she could and snapping on the lock again. It probably would not deter them but with a bit of luck it might annoy the bastards.
On through darkness, they moved blindly down the hill the city dominated, stumbling over rocks and roots and through long, wild grass and small bushes that scratched at them with thorns, spiked leaves and sharp branches. Lyra could heard a river nearby, its current was strong and loud, hopefully they could lose their pursuers there. She saw it up ahead a few meters from the bottom of the hill, a roaring black serpent that coiled lazily about the hill before continuing on.
Pain. It throbbed through her left shoulder as blood spurted from it immediately. The distraction made her trip and fumble, causing her children to stumble uneasily about her. Thomas tripped over a rock; the sudden mistake caused him to slip from her grasp as her shoulder did not allow her arm to stretch out with him. He bounced down the rest of the hill with several yelps and screams and hit the water with a soft splash, inaudible over the river's roar. Lyra and Alexandra screamed and ran to the river as one. When they reached the bank he was already several feet from them, shrieking wildly as he tried to stay afloat, his small body incapable of fighting against the current.
"THOMAS!" Alexandra screamed as she tried to run after her brother but her small legs refused to carry her. "THOMAS!" She could no longer see him in the dark or hear his squeals over the river's raging currents. He was gone, just like that.
Lyra grabbed her daughter as another arrow struck the top of her right thigh with a thwack, either their aim was hampered by the night or they were toying with her. She snapped the arrow with a grimace but left its steel head in, afraid to pull it out and create a wound that would kill her in seconds. "Come on," she ordered Alexandra as she swallowed down a sob. Her son was gone, drowned in seconds and she knew there was no point in attempting to follow after him, it was too dark, the river too strong and fast and they would expect it. The evil bastards who had caused and witnessed it all probably hoped she would run after the river's path making herself an easy target.
They fled into the trees, both of them crying silently as blisters formed on their soles; fresh bruises and cuts came from branches reaching out to them and bushes hindering their path. On and on they ran, aware that their foes were still close behind. It was hours before they slowed their escape, pausing at the edge of a cave to rest. Lyra allowed them only thirty minutes to sit before they began again, zigzagging through trees in an attempt to elude the assassins. There had been no more arrows or shadowy shapes but Lyra did not think they had lost them.
They ran through the night, going until their legs gave way and they had to stop, collapsing in exhaustion for two hours under low growing, leafy boughs. It was as the sun started to rise again that they found a wayshrine. Four tall, white columns with scrolls at their tops and a stained ring of greying white stone that had cracked and broken in places, three platforms of smooth, white limestone formed its base with what looked like a shallow well of white marble at its centre. Lyra staggered to the centre and collapsed at it, placing her arms on its smooth surface and reading the name carved within- Akatosh, it was faint but still audible. Lyra considered it a sign of hope but Alexandra viewed it as a mockery as she hovered near the platform's edge with bitter tears.
Only now did the females notice the cold, adrenaline and fear had overrode the frosty air and the pain their wounds had caused them. Their golden blonde locks were a messy tangle with bits of straw and stray leaves tangled up in them, Lyra's crown of silver and roses was gone, abandoned in the cellar, whilst Alexandra's silver tiara was caught in her hair and pulling at her scalp as it hung at a slant in the back of her long locks. Their dresses were filthy, tattered and torn, stained with muck at the bottom and spattered with drying blood in various places.
Lyra heaved out a sigh of exhaustion, her lips were bloody and sore, her throat was dry and swollen from swallowed sobs and her nose was running. She forced herself to her feet once more as the pale golden sun sneaked through the trees, causing the frost to sparkle like crystals. She pushed her tangled hair back from her face and looked at her daughter with a sad smile, wondering how she could ever get over the loss of her twin, they were two halves of one whole really, opposites in many ways and yet so alike in others. Alexandra was more like her father though she wasn't to know it, sharp minded, not afraid of risks and very bold, whilst Thomas was shy and nervous like his mother, and yet they both had had the same thirst for adventure and excitement in them and now and again they would give into it.
"Let's go my dear," she said as she held out her hand. She wondered if they could go to him, their father, if he could offer them safety. 'Maybe he's behind all this,' she thought coldly, 'ordering my death because I left him. Maybe he learned about his children and wanted revenge because I never told him. I hope that isn't the case, I wanted to tell you Sam, I really did, but...but father would have cast us all out and we'd have died penniless or spent our lives in poverty. It was better they had wealth and prospects than a life on the streets with you. I told them about you though, they know of you, so I hope you're not the one who ordered their mother's death, who effectively caused your own son's death.'
She gritted her teeth as her mouth trembled and she held back a cry. There was no time for grief, they had to run again. They fled through the trees, exiting them to the cool light of the rising sun. It was promising to be a cold but pleasant day, the skies remained clear, now coloured mauve, lilac, rose and pale orange that was gradually changing to a promising pale blue.
After another hour they finally saw a welcome sight, the harbour city of Anvil. The cries of seagulls began to drown out the call of the larks as salt air replaced the smell of pine and oak as they neared the grand city. Its walls and turrets were an impressive sight, the tops of the turrets' clay tiles were a warm shade of orange-brown beneath the morning sun. The chapel of Dibella towered over everything within the walls whilst the lighthouse and castle dominated without, the lighthouse high on its own hill, seated just outside the city by the harbour, and the castle on its own island opposite the lighthouse with a single bridge of stone connecting it to the city.
Lyra let out a scream of pain as the arrow came without warning, it sank deep into the top of her spine causing her to tense up and almost bend back before she shuddered and staggered forward. A second one came just as swiftly, burrowing itself deep in her lower left back, piercing an organ as it went in. Blood came up with her next scream and she knew their job was done, she was going to die. She sank to her knees as an alarmed form hastened towards her, her one witness to her fate apart from her daughter and perhaps her daughter's only hope.
Her watery green eyes rolled up to face the stranger as she lifted her chin as blood seeped down it. He was familiar, how odd for him to be out here so early in the morning and alone. "Count..." she rasped.
He looked down at her in horror and then recognition. "Lady Lyra!" he cried out.
She raised a trembling hand and tried to point towards the teary and shaking Alexandra. There was no time for explanations, just perhaps a few seconds to wring a promise. "Corvus," she dropped the formalities, no time for them either, "my daughter is in danger, please. She is all I have left...all there is...they're out there...no time...please..."
"I'll keep her safe," the man vowed as he looked warily to the trees where the arrows had come from. He swallowed hard, suddenly aware of his own mortality and fearful for it.
"Disappear..." Lyra moaned. "If only one could...the Brotherhood...it's them...they're everywhere...she's..." She gave way to several blood spattered coughs that caused a small sob to escape the blonde girl quivering beside her. "Promise to disappear."
Two shadows stepped out of the trees, one armed with a sickle and the other with two swords as two arrows whizzed past Alexandra's ears. Corvus did not wait; he grabbed the girl's wrist and pulled her with him, fleeing to his castle.
"Promise to disappear," Lyra groaned again. She let out a gasp as the two assassins sprinted past her, one letting out a curse as he did. She thought of poor Thomas, prayed for Alexandra and then begged the gods to allow Sam to forgive her before the axe came down, severing her head from her body.
Corvus ran as hard as he could, pausing just once to pick up the girl who was resistant and too tired to run anyway. He held her against his chest with both hands, pressing a leather, grey cowl in his hand against her as he did. He fled up to the bridge that led back to his castle, hoping that the guards would be quick to notice them. Alexandra watched over the Imperial's shoulder, fierce eyed as she saw the assassins come. They were moving faster, desperate now as Corvus neared the bottom of the hill. The Count hastened up it and began to shout for his guards as he reached the stone bridge. There two armoured guards jumped with a start, looking to their leader with astonishment. "Assassins!" Corvus barked at them before he began to run across the stone bridge.
Of all the mornings, why did everything have to happen at once? The dark haired Imperial could not even process what was going on now, too much had happened. He gave a gasp of relief as he made it the other side of the bridge and snapped at the guards there, "there are assassins chasing me, get them!"
The guards ran to obey as the Count fled indoors. He did not go to his quarters however, knowing they would be unsafe; instead he hastened back to where he had come from at the dawn. He passed confused maids, guards and butlers, ignoring them all as he awkwardly carried the girl through several corridors and passageways until he slipped through a door hidden in one wall, then down a trapdoor and into one of the many forgotten passages of the castle. There he deposited the girl onto the ground and doubled over with a pant.
Count Corvus Umbranox looked down at the cowl in his right hand and tried to take in what in Oblivion had happened to him today. It was why he was awake so early and alone. He had been a man ill at ease and unable to sleep as of late and in his wanderings through the castle he had come across a thief, but not just any thief. He had reacted out of alarm rather than sense and struck a single blow with his sword, down in the bowels of his castle in a secret passage he had thought known only to him. There the corpse of the fabled Gray Fox lay, just a man in a simple mask as Corvus has discovered, and not immortal as the tales had foretold. 'It would only be temporary,' he thought as he looked at it curiously, it seemed so simple and yet he could see the blue Daedric script down its middle and feel the power oozing from it. 'One could disappear with it; I could pretend to be the Fox...wait what nonsense is this? I'm not thinking right!'
He looked at the terrified girl, how old was she now? The unplanned, wayward daughter of Lyra Goldwine, infamous for a brief time in Kvatch as a child out of wedlock, how long ago had that been? 'Ten years,' he thought as he met her stare with his own calm, blue-grey one.
Corvus sighed, wondering if the assassins would seriously consider killing him to get to the girl. Did they even really want the girl or had it just been Lyra? Poor Lyra had seemed convinced her daughter was to die too. 'And now I'm a witness,' Corvus realised. He knew how the Dark Brotherhood worked, no loose ends. He looked at the cowl again, it was just a mask but they wouldn't expect it, no one could, perhaps it would be enough for him to sneak her out. 'Just a few days,' he reasoned with himself, 'I could get her out of Anvil and lie low for a while.'
He raised the mask slightly; it smelled of leather and something else, something dark, sweet and seductive. 'I'll just try it on,' he thought, 'maybe it's a blessing, the Gray Fox comes here the day I need a disguise. We can sneak out through the cave that thief came through and get out of the city, then find somewhere to get her new clothes and make her less conspicuous. By the Divines what am I thinking? What would my wife think? What in Oblivion is going on here? Why did Lyra come to Anvil? Why did the Brotherhood kill her? Is this really the mask of the Gray Fox or was he just an imposter?'
He tugged the mask on, just to see what it was like; it fit like a glove against his skin, soft against his cheeks as if it had always been designed for him. He felt a moment of suffocation and a sense of dizziness and immediately tugged it off.
"Who are you?" Alexandra croaked quietly at last.
"Count Corvus Umbranox," he answered plainly. It sounded odd, like neither the title nor the name fit him anymore.
She looked at him in puzzlement, cocking her head slightly as if she had not understood him. "Who?" she questioned.
"Corvus," he repeated, a little more firmly, "call me Corvus."
She stepped back from him nervously as the tears trickled down her face. "I want my mummy, please mister..."
'Mister?' he thought with a pang of derision. He had never been called that, not even in jest. 'It's shock,' he told himself, 'the poor girl isn't taking anything in.' He stood up from the wall at last, realising they had lingered for long enough. "Come Alexandra, it's not safe here." He looked down at the mask again. 'It couldn't hurt,' he thought before he tugged it back on.
Lucien LaChance tugged down his black hood and cursed quite colourfully into the morning air. It had taken two hours to escape the guards, sloppy for any assassin but unforgiveable for him. 'I will never get promoted if I carry on like this,' he thought hatefully as he glowered back at Anvil Castle.
The assassin had never failed a job before, not even his first, and he had not expected this job to be any different. Who could have predicted that the woman would make it all the way to Anvil? He knew he should not have relaxed when her son had tumbled into the river and thought Sithis showing him favour by making a kill for him. Now the girl was safe behind the walls of Castle Anvil, and worse, she was under the protection of the Count. What in Oblivion had he been doing wandering alone on the outskirts on his city and at dawn?
'Are the gods against me?' the assassin pondered dryly as he glanced back at his equally frustrated companions. 'I should have brought Vicente,' he scorned himself, 'he's a vampire, they wouldn't have been too quick for him. Well I may as well stake the castle out; I have another job to do here.'
"What's the plan?" the green scaled Argonian Ocheeva quipped. She burned with shame, blaming her poor archery skills for their failure. She would swear something had made her arrows fly off course or her bow had been tampered with but there was no evidence to support either concern.
"I have a job to do here," Lucien confessed quietly, "a Mrs Bellamont has been summoned by Sithis. You three must stay close to the castle and watch for the girl, like everyone in this world she must die but in her case she must embrace her fate sooner rather than later."
The Gray Cowl of Nocturnal shrouds the wearer's face in shadow. No light or magic of detection can penetrate its depths. To look upon Nocturnal's face without the cowl is to view the depths of the void. A man would lose his mind to see it.
The Lady of Shadows has seen fit to reveal that a curse is laid upon the Gray Cowl. Whosoever wears it shall be lost in the shadows. His true nature shall be unknown to all who meet him. His identity shall be struck from all records and histories. Memory will hide in the shadows, refusing to record the name of the owner to any who meet him. He shall be known by the cowl and only by the cowl.