Hi, I'm The Red Jennys and I recently created (another) save file for Skyrim, and I absolutely adore my new character, Wynn, and I revisited my past love of TES after hanging out in the Dragon Age fandom for a while. Anyway, I want to see how this fanfiction goes a bit, having never written a TES fanfiction before (I want to write a Champion of Cyrodiil/Martin Septim one eventually) so, I'd appreciate your feedback, and I'm already working on the second chapter.
Wynn has a soft spot for children, somewhere in her heart, and a kind of patience for them that no other can get from her. Therefore, when a child, hungry and cold, was pleading for her to kill, how could she shake her head at him? She watched his lips form the words over and over again for her to kill, please kill Grelod the Kind, and gave him a soft smile, hoping her willingness to help him conveyed in her smile.
She tried to remember that pleading look when she was running for her life from the Riften guards.
She ran as fast as her legs could carry her, wishing to the Gods that they lost track of her, so she could get back to Windhelm. The little boy was waiting for her. The sun had moved a bit in the sky when she finally decided she was safe, cursing her lack of hearing, which would have been very helpful in avoiding the guards, and detecting the presence of the woman behind her when she let the arrow fly at Grelod.
Thinking of all the ways that that assassination could've gone better, she trekked back to Windhelm, ready to drop by the time she passed through the gates. Nevertheless, she made her way to Aventus Aretino's house, eager to tell him the news of his abuser's death.
The boy was over the moons with joy, wrapping his frail arms around her in a surprisingly strong hug. She couldn't see his mouth, but she could only imagine the boy was thanking her repeatedly. He pulled away, his eyes watering as he produced a silver plate from seemingly nowhere, and held it out to her.
The family heirloom wasn't worth much, only about 100 septims, but she desperately needed the money, and sold it to the pawn shop just a little ways away from Aventus's house, before heading to the inn. Tomorrow, she planned on heading to Whiterun.
The trip to Whiterun was fairly uneventful, a few wolves here, a couple of bandits there. Some might say a woman like her should never travel alone, as it was too easy for someone to get the jump on her, but Wynn had been traveling all across Skyrim for as long as she could remember, and knew better than to let her guard down, and was quite capable of handling herself. Though sometimes she wondered if she needed to invest in one of those dogs the stable hand at Markarth always went on about, in an attempt to get rid of his own dog, but she wasn't very good with animals.
When the sun was directly overhead at its zenith, she saw in the distance a courier, traveling at a brisk pace directly towards her. When he saw her, he started sprinting, probably desperate to deliver the message so he can return home.
"You are Wynn, correct?" He huffed, out of breath. The woman nodded and held out her hand expectantly, where a slip of parchment was shoved unceremoniously into it. She looked curiously at him, raising an eyebrow with an unspoken question, but he only shrugged.
"Some man in a hood asked me to give this to you." Was the only hint he gave before jogging off in the direction he game. Confused, Wynn opened the sealed parchment, where a large black hand was imprinted on it, with the words "We Know" delicately penned beneath it.
Wynn felt her heart beat frantically, and a cold sweat broke out along her brow. They knew. Who knew? What did they know? About the murder? They can't have known it was her, she wore a hood, and a mask. How did they know her name? Thousands more questions rolled through her mind as she attempted to get a hold on her initial panic. Gritting her teeth, she started towards Whiterun once more, eager to reach there by nightfall and have a nice glass of mead.
By midafternoon, it seems as though the Gods had other plans. The attacks increased, and Wynn couldn't help but wonder if every wolf in all of Skyrim decided that she, for one reason or another, would make a very tasty snack. Then, when the attacks finally decreased in frequency, she stumbled across a horse, a broken cart, and a very short, very angry imperial man dressed in a jester's motley.
She slowed when she saw him, ranting angrily to no one in particular. She knew in her mind that she should lower her head and keep walking, but another forced cooed at her to stay and help the poor man. She watched his mouth as she neared, but the man's lips were moving a thousand miles a second, and she couldn't decipher his words.
The jester saw her as she came closer, and delight flashed on his face as he bounded up to her. He said something, but Wynn stared at him blankly, offering him a soft apologetic smile. He didn't notice the expression, supposedly, and continued talking, his facial expressions varying from pride to anger to sadness, and he used to hands quite a lot. Occasionally, he'd point at the farm up on the hilltop, or the broken wagon wheel, and at one point, he held up a bag of coins, causing the redguard woman to perk up.
Still confused, but needing the money, she nodded at the imperial before heading up to the farm, where a man was tending to his garden. When he saw her coming, he leaned against the hoe and sighed, exasperated.
"Let me guess, the jester sent you up here to convince me to fix his wheel?" The farmer's face turned angry, but Wynn was happy that he spoke at a normal speed, and she finally understood what the imperial wanted her to do. She nodded at the man's question. The man's face twisted and he began going on about contraband and war weapons and the jester's sanity, but a pretty Altmer came along and placed a golden hand on his shoulder, casting him a kind look when he turned to her. The farmer sighed and turned to face the redguard again.
"I have to protect my wife." The hand on his shoulder squeezed, hard, causing him the wince. "But I suppose if his wheel was fixed, he'd leave sooner." The woman, who Wynn could only assume was his wife, gave him an approving smile, before turning and winking at her. "Tell Cicero that I'll be down in a minute with my tools, and apologize to him for me."
Wynn walked away, pleased. She didn't even have to do a thing, and she was going to get coin for it. Maybe she should help out imperials dressed as jesters more often. Cicero was quite happy to see her descending the hill, fidgeting in his place as he awaited her answer. The big smile she gave him said enough, and he started doing a little jig that had the redguard bracing herself against her knees as she laughed, before a bag of money was flashed in front of her face.
"-as Cicero promised! Shiny, clink-y, coin!" She noticed that now that he less excitable, he talked just slow enough for her to read his lips, and was surprised to find him referring to himself in third person. That might be why the farmer was unwilling to help the imperial, because his speech made him sound mad, even in her head when she tried to imagine his voice. Nevertheless, she accepted his coin, nodding a 'thank you' at the strange man before departing, Whiterun being just up the road, and it was almost night fall.
Somewhere in one of the dark corners of Skyrim, a small group of people sat gathered around a small table, face lit only by the sole candle in the middle. One figure stood, automatically silencing the others.
"She would be a great addition." The figure spoke with a silky yet firm voice. Murmurs erupted from around the table, but one stood out, speaking directly to the one standing.
"She's deaf, she can't hear. She'll die within the first few days, if not the first assignment."
"Have a little faith, Nazir. The woman made it this far. She'll be fine."
"She was chased by guards, Astrid." A smaller, child-like voice added.
"It was her first assassination." Astrid snapped back. "Yes, she should've been more careful, but for her first murder it was quite finely executed."
Nazir snorted at the pun, but he was the only one. The others considered what Astrid said, knowing that they've all had similar experiences. Finally, the child-like voice spoke up again.
"You're the leader, Astrid. Your word is law. If you think this girl would be a valuable asset to the Dark Brotherhood, then we have no choice but to obey and welcome her into our arms, no matter how long we think she'll last, no matter what's wrong with her, and no matter her past."
The rest of the occupants muttered their agreements, some hesitantly, some whole-heartedly, but they all knew that Astrid was going to seek this woman out, whether or not they agreed anyway. Astrid's dark eyes surveyed the group, before her lips twisted into an almost cat-like grin.
"Good, I'm glad we can all agree."
I'm not actually deaf, but I have a friend who is? Yeah, but i personally have no experience, I just know that she can read lips really well and I went with that. I picked the title after Bo Burnham's "Ironic" because Bo Burnham is great, but I'm always open to suggestions. R&R! Stuff like follows and favorites and comment urging me to write more actually work on me.