This is a story that is covered in multiple POVs. If you don't like that type of storytelling then you probably wont like this. But I also am going to have only three to four main POVs, instead of dozens.

Also, please let me know if I should change the rating to M. I don't really think it's that violent, but I am fairly new here too.

Lastly, this is an alternate Oblivion storyline. A "What If" story.

Prologue

Midyear 12, 3E431

3:45 pm

Marcus Odinius emerged from the Golden Mare tavern and strode out into the bright colovian sunlight, letting the beauty of the afternoon sink in. Kvatch was indeed a beautiful city. The storefronts were warm and inviting, the people kind and sociable, the arena thrilling and frightening. The ideal Cyrodilic city. So unfortunate it was that it was business, not pleasure, that had brought Marcus here. Still, a good day ought to be savored, despite the circumstances. It would make the washing of blood from his hands less gloomy than usual.

Marcus took and deep breath and set forth into the city, meandering down the cobblestone streets, keeping his eyes peeled for his target, but also careful to draw too much attention to himself. He had spared himself from his usual tight fitting black armor. Though the enchantments that the Dark Brotherhood armor provided was usually a welcome benefit, he simply couldn't stand the thought of being trapped in the stuffy hot leather on such a nice warm day. And besides, he was skilled enough. He could complete his task without the aid of the armor. He was a Silencer after all.

The Imperial slowly made his way towards the arena, enjoying the walk. The smell of fresh bread wafted from elsewhere in the city and birds chirped overhead. What an excellent day indeed for a killing. He would have to thank brother Thoronas sometime. Had it not been for that mutt's lack of courage, Marcus would not have been given this assignment. Such a shame he might end up having to kill brother Thoronas as well. Pity, pity. But that's why you do what Sithis wants you to do when he wants you to do it. You simply don't say no to the Dread Father. And if you do, you pay. And it was now time to exact that payment.

Loud celebratory cheers and songs suddenly echoed down the street. Marcus started, shaken out of his trail thought, glancing over to see what all the commotion was about. There stood a man by the arena's gates, surrounded by an admiring crowd. Muscled and built, average height, and golden-brown hair, clad in the Kvatch raiment of valor. Glenthir, Grand Champion of Kvatch, beloved of the people, target of the Dread Father. Marcus withdrew his dagger. It shimmered in the bright sunlight, thirsting for blood.

"I'm sorry brother Thoronas," Marcus chuckled to himself. "But this was your own doing. I'll be sure to tell him that it was you who ensured his death as he bleeds out at my feet."

Marcus began to make his way forward raising his hand to cast a chameleon charm upon himself. He never did, however. For at that moment with a heavy thud, something slammed into his chest with a massive amount of energy, causing him to stagger back a few steps. He looked down surprised to see the shaft of an arrow protruding from his chest. He was aware of a spattering sound as crimson droplets began to stain the cobblestones. The world began to spin about him as the pain finally made it through the sheer amounts of adrenaline pumping through him. He clawed at his chest, screaming. His legs finally gave out and the ground rushed up to meet his face.

The last thing he heard were shouts of alarm as the city folk rushed forward to aid him. The last thing he thought was how foolish they all were.

Midyear 12, 3E431

1:50 pm

The noonday sun beat down on Glenthir's skin as a forty-pound sledgehammer beat down on his shield. The resulting shock sent him staggering into the arena wall and provoked a loud oooh from the crowd. Glenthir quickly recovered as the burly orc brought his mighty arms, thick as barrels, to prepare for another swing. The sledgehammer missed its target a second time. Such a pointless weapon it was. Powerful, sure, but far too slow and weary to swing around. Glenthir himself preferred a good longsword or bow.

The hammer swung a third time, managing to graze Glenthir's shoulder, and planting itself into one of the pillars that dotted the arena. The stonework cracked, the pillar tilting haphazardly before crumbling in a plume of dust. Unfortunately, the orc remained unharmed by the rubble raining down on him. Fortunately, half the arena was now obscured in the resulting dust cloud. The crowd grumbled complainingly, unable to see.

Glenthir acted quickly, casting a life detect spell on himself. The orc's outline blossomed into existence, the purple sheen of the spell allowing him to see the opponent who could now not see him. He crept silently, making his way up to the orc, circling around behind him. The orc swung his hammer blindly, succeeding in nothing more than striking empty air. Glenthir withdrew his glass longsword, crouching, preparing for his next move.

He lept into the air, landing firmly on the orc's shoulders, who, not expecting such a move, staggered forward, falling face first into the debris pile. A loud crack! snapped through the arena. The air was beginning to clear to reveal the orc lying motionless, blood pouring from an open wound in his head. Glenthir bent down to inspect the damage. The orc was still blinking, chest still rising and falling ever so slightly. Most likely in excruciating pain, but still alive. What an awful way to go.

"You fought well, Champion!" Glenthir shouted in a loud voice. "You die with honor!" And with that Glenthir took his sword to the orc's neck. "I was honored to fight you, rest well in Aetherius!"

He turned and began to walk back to the door of the underground bloodworks training rooms. The crowd applauded and cheered at the top of their lungs celebrating the continued victory of their reigning Grand Champion.

3:30 pm

Glenthir sat in front of his wash basin, cleaning off the blood and grime of the battle. The bloodworks was nice and quiet as it usually was after a battle, and Glenthir enjoyed the peace and solitude that came with it. Nothing was more calming than the cool subterranean air. He exhaled slowly, dabbing at a particularly stubborn patch of dried blood. A loud slam then echoed about the main training rooms, just outside his door. Footsteps could be heard descending the cold, bloodstained, stone stairs with haste.

"No sir, unless you are a combatant, you must head up to the main level! Sir!"

"Get out of my way!"

"I'm sorry, but I can't let you -" Thud! " Woah! Okay! Okay! Easy there!

"Listen, this is important, you understand? I'm going to do what I came here to do, whether you get in my way or not. But if you have your best interests at heart you'll stand back. Agreed?"

"Hey, I'm sorry, just let me go!"

"I said do you agree!"

Grumbling, Glenthir stood up and made his way out of his room to break up whatever it was going on. Hopefully not another adoring, overly-devoted, and crazed fan. He already had far too many of those.

Thoronas had pinned the lowly pit dog against the wall, using every single bit of his self-restraint not to hit the man.

"Hey, I'm sorry, just let me go!"

A fresh wave of impatience and fear flooded through Thoronas as the realization of just how little time there actually was hit him. "I said do you agree!" He yelled, attempting to ward off the faint wavering of fear that had invaded his voice.

A door swung open further down the training hall and a well muscled, well bloodied man emerged from it, making his way towards them.

"Thank the gods!" Thoronas sighed, dropping the pit dog who collapsed on the floor. He ran up to meet the combatant, who was now grinning widely, from ear to ear.

"Thoronas!" Glenthir shouted with joy "It's been quiet a while! Finally decided to give your brother a visit, eh?" He said, wrapping the smaller man in an embrace.

Thoronas shoved himself away from the hug, looking his brother straight in the eye. "Glenthir, you have to go. Now!"

"What?"

"There is someone on the way to Kvatch right now, and the sole reason of their visit is to stain the streets with your blood.

Glenthir blinked, taking the information in, not quite sure what to make of it. "Come now, even if this were true, I am the Grand Champion. Did you not see my fight earlier?"

"Brother, these people who are after you are not mere fanatics! They are assassins of the utmost skill. Even the best of your skill won't ward of an arrow to your throat when you're not looking!"

Glenthir began to pace, unsure of what he was hearing. His brother had never lied, and would never lie. Indeed, Thoronas's fear seemed frighteningly real. Yet...there was something all too odd about this. His brother had vanished a year ago "to make a name" for himself, he had said. Yet the darkness that now dwelled inside of his brother's normally bright and cheery green eyes was daunting. The grim expression that never used to exsist. He had seen too much death, felt too much pain.

"What has happened to you Thoronas?" Glenthir asked pained at the sight of his brother in such a state. "Even your armor screams of gloom and despair." he said, gesturing to the bound black leather armor his brother war.

Thoronas exhaled slowly. "Another story for another day. Glenthir you just need to get out here. I'm sorry, that's all I can say. Let me escort you out of the city, I have friends who can protect you."

Glenthir was silent for a long moment, in which he became aware of all the eyes of fellow combatants gazing at them, perturbed. At long last he nodded. "But," he added, brandishing a finger "You are going to have to explain yourself. None of this bodes well to me."

"And it shouldn't." Thoronas said, turning to make his way up the bloodworks steps.

3:45 pm.

Thoronas and Glenthir emerged from the lower levels of the arena into the bright afternoon sunlight. Dozens of city folk loitered about the arena entrance, even though the battle was long over. These were the kind of people that Glenthir could live without. Overly devoted fans that would camp out at the arena for days, just to be sure that they didn't miss his coming and going, even though they lived just across the street.

They immediately surged forward, mouths flooded with congratulatory word. Thoronas tensed, visibly stressed. "We have to GO! Glenthir, please!" he said, struggling to fight his way through the crowd.

"Please people!" Glenthir shouted "I'm tired, and not in the mood today!"

Non of them paid any attention. One even began to sing a song illustrating Glenthir's victory. Others joined in while some, not knowing the words, simply cheered.

"Damnit!" Thoronas shouted.

"I'm sorry, I'm trying!" Glenthir shouted out to his brother.

"Lie low, that man, dressed as a huntsman, keep your eyes on him. He doesn't know you know. Stay here and I'll handle him." and with that, Thoronas ran off.

Sure enough, a man dressed in hunting attire was walking calmly down the road, smiling widely, eyes fixed on Glenthir. He was indeed a huntsman, and he was coming for the hunted. The man withdrew a dagger, enchanted by the looks of it. Why did he feel this was all Thoronas's fault?

Thoronas scaled the nearest building he could and lay down on his stomach, ensuring none could see him from his hiding place. The Dark Brotherhood taught him the skills of concealment all too well. Now those skills would turn back on them and take out one of their own. Hopefully.

Thoronas attempted to steady himself as he aligned "brother" Marcus in his sights. It all came down to this. His betrayal boiled down to this one moment. This one shot. Attempting to steady his breathing, Thoronas nocked an arrow, pulling the string taught. If he missed, things would get ugly, and fast.

Marcus reached for a dagger sheathed at his waist and withdrew it. It gleamed brightly in the sun. Another hand he brought high above his head, preparing to cast his signature chameleon charm, the best of anyone in the Brotherhood. He had to take the shot now, or risk loosing him.

With one final breath, Thoronas released the arrow.

So that's that. I wrote this because I happened to have the free time. don't expect regular updates, some may come a day or two later, some may take a week or two. It all depends on my schedule.