"So when do we make our move?" whispered Astrid. She tried to keep her voice low. Lounging on the bed, the Nord woman watched her husband, Arnbjorn. He sat in a chair, carefully sharpening his blade against a whetting stone.
"Soon," he huffed in that baritone voice of his, "but we need to be certain it's the right time." Arnbjorn set down the stone. Stroking a fingertip along the blade's edge, he smoothed away the dust.
The two sat in silence, staring at one another from across their sleeping quarters – quarters which had now been moved to the very back of the Falkreath Sanctuary. The couple's former chambers had been taken over by her. The Night Mother – the black haired Bosmer witch who called herself Julia. Then there was the Bosmer's tagalong – her strangely dressed manservant by the name of X1-81. He was the Courser, whatever that meant. He typically paced in the Sanctuary's main hall, ever watchful, keeping a close eye on the lead members of the Dark Brotherhood. Things carried on this way for months.
New initiates filled the Sanctuary, much to Julia's demand – and much to Astrid's chagrin. The Dark Brotherhood brimmed with assassins still wet behind the ears. Some got the job done. Some went above and beyond. Some never came back, stealing half of the hideout's weapons cache just before disappearing. The overall security of the Sanctuary had slipped – even with that white haired Courser roaming the halls like a slaughterfish on the hunt. People came and went, came and went. Bodies in and out of the door, as if there was no longer a password. Astrid was fairly certain the initiates brought guests. It was bad enough that some of her lead members now entertained visitors. Like spoiled children with no discipline, the initiates did whatever they pleased. Astrid was powerless over them. Whatever the Night Mother demanded was the new way of things. Poor Astrid had been demoted. Dethroned. Shoved into the shadows, hidden at the back of the caverns. She found it all so ridiculous.
There was some discipline enacted against the initiates, but it was overkill. X1-81 executed those who got in his way, mouthed off to the Night Mother, or otherwise stepped on the wrong toes for the wrong reasons. So many initiates filled the halls, and yet so many of their corpses had to be dragged out and dumped in the woods. Then there would come a new wave of replacements. Astrid found such turnover for an assassin's guild to be so humiliating that it sickened her.
In addition to such things, that pale bastard – the Courser – carried a strange weapon with him. Astrid had never seen the likes of it in all her years. X1-81 gripped the damn thing in his arms like a crossbow, but it certainly didn't shoot bolts. The infernal contraption blasted a strange energy that ripped through its targets, melting their skin like butter. How she hated the Courser! And she hated Julia! Blasphemous, wasn't it? A dark sister of the Black Hand hating the Night Mother; the very matriarch of their syndicate! That had to break a tenet or two. Not as if Astrid even followed such things to begin with, but with this New Order in place, all five tenets were officially dead and gone.
Julia. Julia! Her name made Astrid's stomach heave. The Night Mother – this demented version of her was so strange. The Matron didn't look the way Astrid knew of her. She was alive, first of all. She walked and talked. In fact, she talked endlessly, always shouting at the rest of them. When Julia first arrived, her skin had barely formed over her skeleton – it was as though she was still a rotted old corpse, but standing upright and shrieking orders. No need for a Listener – it was impossible not to hear her! Then, Julia changed. It was gradual, but after some time had passed, her skin grew in tight and smooth – the color of olives. She was no longer hideous and frightening, but quite beautiful. She looked like a Bosmer princess, yet she was as horrible as a hag raven. So horrible that Julia sent Astrid to carry out menial errands as a daily slap in the face. Not only so, but she insulted Astrid in front of the others – in front of Nazir, Babette, Krex – even in front of the initiates! Disgusting. Embarrassing. Loathsome.
"I've spoken with the others," Astrid whispered to Arnbjorn. "Nazir, Gabriella, you know – our original crew. All are on board. They want Julia and her ...friend... gone. They want those initiates gone."
Skye had beautiful, dark skin. It was the color of ash. And her hair was white, like starlight. Gabriella swooned, whispering such flowery words as she stroked her lover's thighs, teasing the wet center between them with her fingers and lips. Skye arched her back and moaned softly. Gabriella went in for the proverbial kill, inserting her tongue deep between the hot folds of Skye's privates. Her lover whimpered with pleasure, panting heavily as she squeezed her eyes shut. Gabriella inserted a finger or two, locating just the right spot to excite Skye while working her magic with her mouth. Skye gasped, shocked by the very sensation that sent goosebumps up and down her extremities. Meanwhile, Gabriella's lips moved deliberately against her lover's hip gyrations. This went on for a matter of time before Skye yelped louder, building closer to climax. As Gabriella felt Skye's warm, firm legs tense around her head, her lover moaned one final note in a breathy, wanton tone.
As her voice diminished, Skye relaxed her spine flat against the bed; her naked chest heaved as her erect, dark nipples slowly lifted and fell. Skye tried, in vain, to catch her breath. With a proud smirk, Gabriella climbed up to her lover's arms. Both Dunmer women held one another close, basking in the afterglow of such spontaneous passion.
It grew quiet. Very quiet.
"How is your situation here at the Sanctuary?" asked Skye, breaking the silence.
Gabriella's eyes lowered. Her lover had asked a terrible question. "Not great," she muttered. "But," she continued, "at least I can have you here. So many people are in and out, it seems to no longer be a hideaway. We're lucky the legion hasn't come knocking, yet."
"So that's a good thing," grinned Skye.
Gabriella shook her head. She glided a finger along Skye's naked chest. "My love, as much as it is a good thing to have you here, you should not be here. But..." she paused, sighing. "...things have changed much over this last year."
"Not for the better, I take it?"
"No," replied Gabriella. "I fear the worst."
"The worst?" Skye had a look of concern on her face as she hugged on Gabriella. "Tell me about the worst."
"Some months ago," began Gabriella, "we had plans to take back the Sanctuary. A coup, if you will. I was more than ready. But before Astrid could organize us, everything fell apart. Astrid and Arnbjorn..." Gabriella trailed off.
"Astrid and Arnbjorn...?"
"They were caught. One of the initiates must have been spying. It ended up getting Arnbjorn killed. Executed."
"By the Nine!" gasped Skye, hugging Gabriella closer. "What of your involvement?"
"My name was never mentioned. Nor were the names of the others. Astrid and Arnbjorn took the fall, so as to protect the rest of us." Gabriella stared off, her bottom lip quivered. "A debt I never can fully repay..."
"What happened to Astrid?" asked Skye.
"She's still alive," Gabriella nodded. Closing her eyes, she shook her head. "Poor wretch. She's been a mess since her husband was killed. Can't say I blame her. I hardly see her anymore. She's not in the Sanctuary much. Julia – that she-devil – she has Astrid filling contract kills in the north. Just one right after another. Julia keeps her away for months at a time, giving her little provisions with which to travel. But Astrid knows she has to return, or else the Night Mother will send that Courser after her. He has methods of tracking that are above and beyond anything I've ever known."
"That's terrible..."
"It's better than being executed. Astrid's tough. She can survive out there. But yes, she has no place to hide."
"So," began Skye, snuggling closer to Gabriella, "where is Astrid now?"
"On the road," answered Gabriella. "To Markarth."
Skye grinned devilishly. "Who's the target?"
Gabriella laughed. "No one to concern yourself with. Just a pompous Thalmor that an over-patriotic Nord probably wanted dead. If Astrid were more political, she might actually enjoy that kill."
"Interesting," said Skye. "Your life is... very, very interesting, my love."
Gabriella sighed. "Not anymore, it isn't. The Dark Brotherhood has not been a real family in some time. My life is a nightmare now." Gabriella leaned forward and gently kissed Skye on her lips. "But as I said, my love, at least I can have you here with me, from time to time."
