Layra Ceasur couldn't tell you why she was standing here, in front of a no-longer-innocent little boy, as he excitedly claimed to her that she was a member of the Dark Brotherhood and could now "accept his contract", whatever that meant. All she knew was that she heard some rumors of this boy...over in Windhelm...and she was curious. Very curious. She wanted...and needed,and required information on the rumored boy who was summoning some sort of group to him.
Again, she couldn't tell you why she needed it. She just did. That was it.
She had no knowledge of this group, or of this boy, until now. And before she could reply to the poor young man, she was practically pushed out of the door. She sighed in foolish defeat and she shook her head as she stumbled down the streets of Windhelm.
"Stupid kids...rediculous. How dare that child ask such a thing of me? I must be going soft, I swear to the Gods." She grumbled to herself as she took a carriage to Riften. She fingered her spare blade she had always had with her and she sighed for the last time. When the carriage driver tried to make conversation on the way to her destination, she snapped at him, and he kept quiet. The lack of sleep and stress piling up inside of her was becoming too much for her to handle.
When she arrived in Riften, she stormed right through the streets, bright in the late moonlight, and fingered her weapon once more.
"Why am I doing this? Am I insane? This isn't me. I can't do this. This isn't me. Stop...STOP WALKING!" Her mind screamed. She didn't know why she was just doing everything people told her to do. She never listened. To him.
That man.
The old one.
The scary, mean, tough one back in Whiterun.
Eorlund Gray-Mane, a tough, smart-mouthed smither of Skyforge Steel. He had once told her back when she had attempted to join the Companions of Jorrvaskr that "You shouldn't always do what people tell you to do." But she had. She had, and she was devastated. Was she really this stupid, weak, and afraid?
Afraid of being able to stand up for herself and turn down orders?
Really?
"I'm afraid so..." Layra muttered to herself softly as she walked through the large doors of Honorhall Orphanage. She crouched down as she heard the old crone in the next room wail at the children before her. A young woman was sleeping in a open room across from where Layra hid. She took her bow and crawled backwards, into the dark shadows of the unlit dining room. She went next to the table, brought out her temporarily poisoned arrow, and aimed for Grelod's bloody head.
"This...Me...The way I act...my orders..."Layra's mind reeled out random words to herself as Grelod spat at the orphans. She rose her bow and pulled the arrow back.
"My life...the way I am..."
She closed one eye and squinted with the other.
"This has always been this way..."
She let go.
The arrow went flying across the room and soared into Grelods weak old skull. The penetration surprisingly resulted in a lot of blood spewing out from in between the tip of the arrow. The children flinched and screamed after witnessing the somewhat clean kill, but...
What? These children...they were...
Cheering? Cheering for the death of their landlady? Layra shook her head. It didn't make sense.
"Yay! Aventus did it! He really summoned the Brotherhood and got them to kill old Grelod! Haha!" One girl shrieked.
"We love you Dark Brotherhood!" Yelled another ecstatic boy. Layra's eyes widened, and she re-placed her bow on her back and strapped to her person and quickly fled the scene. Two guards looked at her suspiciously, but the minute she stepped out of the moonlight, she was gone...almost as if she was invisible. The rest of the guards in Riften were half asleep, anyway.
Layra took another carriage ride back to the Aretino Residence, just to be safe. He cheered and thanked her and rewarded her with an "Aretino Family Heirloom" that would "Fetch her a nice price."
"Hmph...nice price my foot. Its just a silver plate. Stupid kids..." She grumbled and walked out of Windhelm, throwing the plate off of the side of the bridge and, instead of driving, walking down the snowy trail, all the way home to Falkreath.
When she arrived back home, a courier crashed into her, panting and holding out a note for her. She just grabbed it and pushed him away, breathing heavily as her exhausted form attempted to get through the front door of her house. She collapsed on the bed, removing her shoes with her own feet, and stretched out across the bed. She held the note high above her and scanned it before dropping her arms and letting the letter fall to the floor as sleep immediately took over. The discarded letter landed soundlessly onto the wooden floor on an open side, revealing what was written. A huge black handprint covered most of the paper, and underneath said hand were the words,
"We Know".