A/N: This is an attempt at writing the Forsworn. If it goes down well we'll see if I continue it at all. Please review to let me know what you think.
Uraccen barely looked up from his usual position, sitting despondently by the fire in the middle of Cidhna Mine, at the sound of the gate to the mine being opened, and the noises of a person being forced in. Years of hard labour, coupled with being unable to see the sun or his daughter tended to do that to a person. He dimly heard the Orc in charge of the mine explaining what was going to happen to the prisoner. Not that he cared, Uraccen hardly cared about anything anymore. He would die in the mine, he knew that, he had nothing to look forward to, nothing to strive for. For all he knew, his daughter had already been killed in one of the numerous raids that Nord mercenaries in the pay of the Silver-Blood family carried out on the Forsworn camps, or during a skirmish between the various factions of the Forsworn.
He raised his eyes slightly when he heard footsteps drawing close to him, seeking to take in the appearance of the newest member of their little criminal 'family'. He was somewhat surprised to see a tiny woman stood in front of him, clad in typical sackcloth shirt and trousers. Then he saw her face and realised that she was a Breton and it all made sense. She was most likely in Cidhna Mine on some trumped up charges brought against her by a Nord who just didn't like her, or whose advances she had possibly spurned. He also saw that she was young, probably barely out of her teens, she didn't look much like a criminal, in a way she reminded Uraccen of his daughter, and in that moment his heart went out to her.
"What are you in for, new blood?" He asked, deliberately keeping his voice gruff so as not to betray any emotion.
The girl blinked, swallowed, and then answered, "Murder."
Uraccen was shocked by this revelation, she didn't look like a murderer at all. Then she laughed bitterly.
"I didn't do it though," she laughed again, "It's funny really, they never suspected me of the people I actually did murder, then they frame me for this one." She laughed again, but this time the laugh broke down into uncontrollable sobbing as she fell to the floor.
Uraccen was completely lost for a response. This girl had come in here, claimed to be a murderer, then broken down crying in front of him. He had no idea what to do about it. He heard a snort of laughter, and glanced over to see Borkul the Beast eyeing the scene with something resembling enjoyment in his cruel eyes. He turned his attention back to the girl who had now stopped crying, and instead was sitting silently on the floor, her knees drawn up tight to her chest. He spoke to her again, "Listen new blood, if you want my advice, serve your time with a pickaxe and get out. You don't want to end up getting a shiv in the guts over a bottle of Skooma."
The girl nodded silently, then went back to staring intently at the fire. She just sat there for long minutes, staring at the fire as though it would reveal the secrets behind her incarceration. Uraccen looked at the girl again, this time taking in more detail about her, especially her face. In so many ways she reminded him of his daughter, from her small stature, to her pale, white hair. Unlike Uaile however, she didn't seem to be possessed of the drive to aid the Forsworn he had seen so often in his daughter's eyes. He was about to lie back on the cold, unforgiving ground and sleep, when the girl spoke again.
"What are you in for?" She asked.
Uraccen shrugged his was a story that he had told many times before, and one similar to those that he had heard from other prisoners in the mine. "Before this, I was a servant to a Nord nobleman. One night he was stabbed and died. Wasn't me, I wasn't even in the house, but I knew that I'd be the one that they blamed. So I ran. Joined up with the Forsworn. Started killing. Got caught. The Silver-Bloods couldn't be bothered to execute me, so here I am."
The girl nodded, "I wanted to join the Forsworn," she said, "I think I was one, when I was younger. I was told that I was found alone after Ulfric Stormcloak took back Markarth, crying in the middle of the street. All I had was a strange amulet around my neck. They sent me to that orphanage in Riften, Honorhall." Her eyes teared up again. "That amulet was the only possible link I had to my family, and those arseholes took it off me." She wiped her eyes and continued, "The woman who ran the orphanage, Grelod, was an evil old crone. When I turned eighteen, I was kicked out of Honorhall. Spent some time at the College of Winterhold until I was kicked out. When I was twenty-one, I returned to Riften and murdered Grelod in her sleep." She smiled to herself at the memory. Uraccen said nothing. It was his experience that some prisoners felt that they needed to get something off their chest, that they needed to tell their story. All he needed to do was listen.
The girl took a breath and continued. "I suppose it doesn't really matter keeping this a secret anymore. After I murdered Grelod, I was recruited by the Dark Brotherhood. Spent the next two years assassinating people for coin."
Uraccen was secretly impressed, the Dark Brotherhood were known to be very selective in their recruiting.
"Then I travelled to Markarth and got caught up in all of the shit that goes on around here."
Then she turned to him, "What about you? Got any family out there?"
"Only my daughter, Uaile. I'll most likely never see her again, unless she gets herself arrested. I think she'd be about your age now, I'm not sure, being locked up in here means that I've lost track of time's passing."
The girl nodded sympathetically, but the next words out of her mouth threw Uraccen even more.
"So where can I find Madanach?"
"If you're asking that question, then that means that you're the new lifer." He replied, "Tough luck, friend. Those guards set you up good. I'm afraid no one talks to Madanach. Not without getting past Borkul the Beast… And no one wants to talk to Borkul the Beast."
"Borkul the Beast?"
"Madanach's guard. The big Orc over there. He once ripped a man's arm off and beat both him, and his wife to death with it. He's old-fashioned like that."
The girl seemed to consider her options. Then she stood up and set off in the direction of Borkul the Beast. From this distance, Uraccen couldn't hear a word of what was being said, as such he was shocked when Borkul stood up from his usual slouch against the wall and took a swing at the girl. He was even more shocked when the girl dodged to one side, grabbed the enormous green arm that whistled past her head, and flipped Borkul over on to the floor. She then twisted his arm into a vicious-looking lock, whilst aiming a potent-looking destruction spell at his crotch. He nodded to himself, the girl was correct, there was definitely some Forsworn blood in there. They exchanged some more words and Borkul handed the girl the key to Madanach's private chamber before hauling himself to his feet. The girl meanwhile had disappeared down the tunnel, the iron door banging shut behind her.
Madanach sat at his desk. Madanach spent a lot of time sitting at his desk, whether it was reading reports from his agents, both in Markarth, and out in the Reach, writing orders to said agents, or receiving a hit list from Thonar Silver-Blood. The latest report from Nepos, one of Madanach's best agents in Markarth, was somewhat worrying though, it said that the almost the entire arrangement had been discovered by a travelling Breton, and that some of Nepos' operatives had been taken out by the same Breton. She was apparently in Cidhna Mine now, having finally given herself up after killing about ten guards inside the Shrine of Talos, then attempting to make a run for it to the main gates.
In addition to his desk, Madanach had a number of luxuries that were unavailable to the average prisoner, chief amongst which was a simple bed, and a chest to store what little possessions he had. Outside the mine, neither the bed nor the chest would be considered anything special, in fact they may have called cheap, but inside Cidhna Mine they were expensive and difficult to obtain, and served as symbols of Madanach's power over the other prisoners.
The sounds of someone breathing behind him, informed him that he had a visitor. His mind quickly examined all the possibilities, none of the other prisoners would dare bother him and Borkul had been given orders to admit no-one unless they could prove themselves. The only person who would intrude upon him would be the Breton that had killed his agents. Without standing up or turning, he addressed the other occupant of the room, "Well, well. Look at you. The Nords have turned you into an animal. A wild beast caged up and left to go mad. So my fellow beast, what do you want? Answers about the Forsworn? Revenge for trying to have you killed?"
The breathing behind him quickened, "You have a lot to answer for." A voice hissed.
"Do I? And what about you? What right did you have to meddle in my affairs? Kill my people? Was it worth it? Your truth?"
A short laugh emanated from the presence behind him, "Oh this has nothing to do with that. The thing is, all these years working for the Silver-Bloods, killing their enemies for them, you've been stealing from me, or rather, my people." Madanach was confused, what did this person mean, stealing from them? Then he pieced it together, the only group that could get angry in that way about someone else doing killings. By the Old Gods, he was alone with an assassin from the Dark Brotherhood. The voice continued, "Also, do you know how embarrassing this is, professionally? I have never been caught on a contract, but now I've been arrested for your murders."
Madanach laughed, "So what you're really angry about is the fact that we've been withholding a source of income from you, and the tarnishing of your reputation."
The voice changed slightly, from the unidentifiable hiss, to an accent that bore certain similarities to Madanach's own, and that of the other Forsworn prisoners, but without the hard edges of someone who had lived their entire life in the Reach. "Oh I'm still pissed off about the attempts to kill me, Madanach, but I can get over that, I want my freedom after all." Madanach realised that as well as belonging to a Breton, the voice was quite definitely female. Finally he stood and turned to face the woman who had caused him so much trouble in Markarth. He was slightly surprised by just how small she was, even for a Breton but he quickly cleared his head of that fact, small meant quick, and quiet, very desirable traits for an assassin of the Dark Brotherhood.
"Of course you do," he said, "You're one of us now, after all. A slave. The boot of the Nord stepping on your throat. Maybe if you understood that, I could help you."
"What do you want of me?"
"There's a man named Braig inside these mines, been here the longest, apart from me that is. Tell him I sent you. Ask him why he's here. I want you to know how widespread the injustice of Markarth is."
The girl nodded once, turned around, and left as silently as she had arrived. Madanach stood staring for a second before returning to his reports. Rereading Nepos' report, he was more surprised by what he read now that he knew who was responsible for it.
