Estaria felt cold. Her heart was beating faster than usual, a sure sign that something wasn't quite right. She had fallen asleep…where? Oh, yes. The Sleeping Giant Inn, back in Riverwood. Her Shield-Brother, Farkas, was with her for a while, but he left when she went to bed. Why on earth was Farkas there? The image of a black hand slipped into her mind…
We know.
The note, yes. She had almost forgotten. She had gotten a note off a courier the day before with a blank hand and a brief message. It didn't mean anything to her, so she asked Farkas if it meant anything to him, but it didn't. So instead, they forgot about it and had a few drinks. She saw that Sven and Camilla Valerius were becoming very well 'acquainted'. Acquainted meaning Sven sang a song he wrote for Camilla and Camilla bursting into tears when he finished, her mug of ale crashing to the ground, Delphine grumbling about 'bloody Nords' as she cleaned it up.
"Not that's aimed at you, Dragonborn," she said to Estaria with a smile.
It was quite a night. She was quite surprised when Farkas gently took her hand and kissed her softly on the lips. It was almost nothing, but she rather liked it. And she liked him, too. It could've been the mead as well, though. In fact, she'd vowed that she'd speak to him the next morning about travelling to Mount Anthor to slay the dragon that was said to be roosting up at the top. On the way, they could talk about this 'marriage' thing. The Amulet of Mara had been a stupid idea, with half the men in Skyrim wanting to marry her. She didn't know how much she meant to people.
But that wasn't the only thing nagging at her. What else? Oh, of course. Old Grelod at Honorhall Orphanage.
She was visiting Riften to do some jobs for the Guild, intending to spend the night at Keerava's Bee & Barb. She'd accidentally walked into Honorhall and witnessed the cruel headmistress threatening the poor children with beatings, telling them they'd never get adopted, that they were never wanted and that was why they were there. Her blood boiled when she grabbed a little girl's shoulder and shoved her to the ground before retreating to her room. In a sudden spell of fury, she unsheathed her sword and slit Grelod's throat, right in front of the children. Grelod the Kind's assistant, Michel, lost it and began to scream, but the children whopped and cheered, singing "Grelod is dead! Grelod is dead! All hail the Dark Brotherhood! Grelod is dead!"
The little girl who Grelod pushed grasped Estaria's hand and whispered "Are you the one Aventus Aretino sent? From the Dark Brotherhood?"
"I'm sorry? Aventus who?" Estaria replied.
"Aventus Aretino. He ran away from here about a month ago, saying he was going to contact the Dark Brotherhood and kill Old Grelod. She always beat him and he was very sad because his mother just died. He swore revenge and headed back to his residence in Windhelm. Is it really you? Are you really his assassin?" she whispered excitedly, gripping Estaria's hand tightly
"Uh…" Estaria said. "Yeah. Yeah, it's me. I must have forgotten his name, for a moment. I'm terrible with names,"
"Oh, wow!" the girl cried. "Guys, it's her! It's really her! From the Dark Brotherhood!"
She hugged Estaria and ran back to her friends, who danced and sang around the terrified Constance, who screamed "JUST LEAVE HERE! PLEASE, LEAVE US ALONE!" at Estaria.
Estaria left the orphanage, waiting for guards to attack her, but they never did. Perhaps they hated Grelod the Kind as much as she and those children did. Or perhaps they just didn't know she was actually dead. Either way, Estaria had committed a crime she'd apparently gotten away with. And the funny thing was, she didn't, in anyway, regret it. The old bitch had to be expecting it. But she didn't know who this Aventus boy was, and was determined to find him.
So she travelled to Windhelm and broke her way into his residence. A Dark Elf and a little boy were talking just outside, the Mer telling the boy that the Aretino residence was cursed and the Aventus Aretino's actions could only lead to ruin. She found the little boy upstairs, in a dim room lit only by candles, a skeleton in the middle, with a human heart and torn flesh. The smell was rather awful, of blood and iron, unwashed bodies and death. She informed Aventus that she'd already killed Grelod and that she was an assassin from the Dark Brotherhood and he could return to the orphanage and be with his friends again, and also the Constance Michel, who'd surely be a better headmistress that evil old Grelod the Kind. He thanked her excitedly and gave her an old family heirloom. She sold it almost immediately at the market in Windhelm, having no use for such an item, simply happy enough that Aventus Aretino was happy again.
But then the courier came…and she dismissed the letter and spent the night at the inn with Farkas. Wonderful.
I guess I'd better get up.
But she couldn't. She tried to stand then fell back on her knees, her eyes still closed. Her arms were outstretched, raised above her head. She tried to pull them down, but couldn't.
What in the Eight…
She opened her eyes and her head spun as she did. She wasn't in the Sleeping Giant Inn. She was…somewhere cold, dark and musty. She realized her arms were bound in conjured chains. She'd seen mages use them enough. She almost fell out of consciousness again…but the sound of a soft, sweet voice called her back.
"Sleep well?" it said.
Estaria blinked, tilting her head a little to the left, letting her dark brown hair tickle her shoulder. Then she looked up and saw her, the woman who spoke.
She was sitting on what looked like an old bookshelf, one leg dangling carelessly off it. She wore the armour of the Dark Brotherhood, including the Shrouded Cowl. She'd seen this armour often enough; Dark Brotherhood assassins had tried to murder her before. Was that why she was here? To be murdered? But why would this woman not just kill her in her sleep at the inn, with nobody watching? Why kidnap her and bind her helplessly?
"What?" she replied hoarsely. "Where am I? Who are you?"
The woman scoffed. "Does it matter? You're warm, dry…and still very much alive. That's more than can be said for Old Grelod, hmm?"
"You…know about that?" Estaria said.
"Half of Skyrim knows," the woman said. "Old hag gets butchered in her own orphanage…things like that tend to get around,"
Estaria remained quiet, not daring to fight her bonds, lest this woman's shadow fall on her forever.
"Oh, I'm not criticizing, though. It was a good kill. Old crone had it coming. And you saved a bunch of urchins to boot. But there is a slight…hmm…problem," the woman crooned.
Suddenly, Estaria knew who she was. She wasn't just a Dark Brotherhood assassin. She wasn't under the rule of their leader. She was the one who wrote the notes Estaria found on the fallen assassin's bodies, the ones that tried to kill her. This woman was Astrid. She was the leader. And she'd taken Estaria, bound her in chains, surely for more than just a chat.
She said nothing.
"You see," Astrid continued, taking the hint. "That little Aretino boy was looking for the Dark Brotherhood. For me, and my associates. Grelod the King was, by all means, a Dark Brotherhood contract; a kill that you stole," she paused, letting the climax build. "A kill…you must repay,"
Estaria was silent for a moment, then her bonds suddenly unravelled, releasing her to the ground. She glared up at Astrid.
"You sent assassins after me, Astrid. You tried to have me killed!" she yelled in rage.
"I did?" Astrid said. "Well, someone must have wanted you dead. I'm more than willing to put that behind us, though. It's what we Nords do, yes?"
Estaria glared, her piercing blue eyes penetrating Astrid's. It had no effect on her.
"So, you want me to murder someone else. Who?"
"Well now," Astrid soothed. "Funny you should ask. If you turn around, you'll notice my guests. I've…'collected' them from…well, that's not really very important, is it? The here and now, that's what matters,"
She paused, tapping her gloved fingers against the wall, then pulling her hood off her face. Estaria looked at her. She was young, that was a certainty, with ash blonde hair. But she looked worn and tired, almost miserable. Perhaps this wasn't the best job in the world. It certainly wasn't one Estaria was willing to take.
"You see, there's a contract out on one of them, and that person can't leave this room alive. But…which one? Go on. See if you can figure it out. Make your choice. Make your kill. I just want to observe…and admire," Astrid went on kindly.
"Right," Estaria said, pulling herself to her feet, staggering and using the book case for support. She could see that Astrid hadn't taken anything. Her Thieves Guild uniform was still on, hood and all. Of course, she was working with them a few days before, doing a heist job for Vex, after she'd killed Grelod the Kind. She was in Riften when she got the note from the courier. Karliah's Nightingale bow was still hanging on her back, as was the quiver of fine Ancient Nord arrows which she'd looted off Draugr in the ancient ruins of Skyrim. Even her enchanted ebony blade hung at her belt. She was ready for battle.
She turned to the three prisoners, all bound at the hands with a sack over their head. One, a Nord man in fine hide armour. He was shaking and whimpering softly, clearly not as strong in the heart as he was in the arm. Another, an angry old Breton woman who demanded that Estaria free her at once or so help her Gods. And the last, a fearless Khajiit who was clearly used to being captured on the streets and hauled into shacks with a bag over his head. Estaria realized they all seemed…innocent. Not meaning to cause harm to anybody, that is. And she couldn't possibly compare anyone of them to Grelod.
Anyway, she hated the Dark Brotherhood. Astrid sent assassins after her, clearly wanting her dead. The 'family' was known to sneak into people's houses while they slept and slit their throats in front of innocent children. She was sure they sometimes even killed such children, not just criminals or evil old crones like Grelod the Kind. She was beginning to regret killing the old hag, but she felt sorry for the children who lived there, didn't kill her for her own pleasure.
Contracts…the Nords of Skyrim made contracts to get revenge on ex's, families they hated, neighbours who pestered them…what kind of life must these people live, to want to kill these people for money?
Is this what the Dark Brotherhood's about?
Estaria made a decision. She would either kill Astrid or die trying. With this, she didn't expect to ever leave the shack…
She pulled her bow off her shoulder and knelt beside the Nord.
"I…I can hear you talking out there!" he whimpered. "Please, let me go! I've done nothing to you!"
"Shh…" Estaria whispered. "I won't kill you. Just go with me, okay?"
"Are you…you wouldn't…okay," the man whispered back.
Estaria unsheathed her ebony sword and pressed it against the man's throat. He flinched as the blade touched his flesh. Gently lowering her bow to the ground, she said out loud "Would somebody pay to have you killed?"
"What? Oh Gods! I don't want to die!" the man said fearfully, so much so that Estaria wondered if he'd picked up on her hint at all.
"Answer now or die!" Estaria yelled.
"Please! Okay, I was a bandit. I may…I may have killed a few people, maybe even innocent, but I swear, I thought they were just criminals! That's all there is! I swear!"
"Ugh," Estaria said in feigned disgust, sheathing her sword. "I've had enough of you,"
She gently kicked his knee, careful not to hurt him, but he cried out all the same.
The other two weren't as afraid. The woman was simply furious she was dragged from her home will a sack over her head and the Khajiit was obviously used to this kind of thing.
"Right, let's get this over with," Estaria whispered, loud enough for Astrid to hear.
"Excellent," Astrid said softly. "I think I made the right choice with this one…"
She sheathed her sword and picked up her bow, pulling an arrow from her quiver and notching it in place. She took several deep breaths, her hands shaking. Then she pulled back the bowstring, the arrow tight between her fingers, then aimed it at the man's heart. She closed her eyes, took a final deep breath, then spun on her heel and aimed the arrow at Astrid's heart.
Astrid saw it coming. She deflected the enchanted arrow, taking it in the arm and shocks spread through her body. Crying out, she unsheathed a glowing sword and launched herself at Estaria.
"By Sithis, I'll see you dead!" she cried.
Estaria notched another arrow, which lodged in her stomach. She cried out in pain as electric shocks writhed through her, but was laughing two seconds later.
"Pathetic!" she snarled.
Estaria dropped her bow and unsheathed her sword, just as Astrid rushed forward, and etched a large gash in her chest, but not quite deep enough. Astrid grinned and ran her blade across Estaria's face and stomach.
The pain was almost unbearable. Estaria bent over, trying to clutch both the wounds, which were spouting blood like a water fountain. She screamed as red mist fogged her vision. The life seemed to be draining from her. Astrid's sword was sucking it out of her blood. She collapsed to the ground, in agony but refusing to submit.
"Ha! You're ridiculous. I should've hunted you down myself. I lost three assassins to you," Astrid snarled.
In a vast effort, Estaria pulled herself to her feet and jammed Astrid with her elbow. She staggered and, as though she could see into the future, placed her arm over her heart, taking the full force of the blade. Estaria heard a bone crack, which summed up Astrid's screaming.
"No!" she cried, gasping in pain.
Estaria felt her blood running from her check to her neck. Her Thieves Guild armour was torn beyond repair at this stage. If she made it out of here alive, she'd have to expect quite a talking to from Tonilia, the Redguard from the Guild. Her vision was blurred. The room was literally doing somersaults around her. Literally?
Astrid gasped, collapsing. She looked Estaria in the eye, clutching her broken arm. "You know what this is, Estaria?" she whispered, holding up her blade. "It's called the 'Blade of Woe'. Enchanted, sucks the life out of its enemies…the only one in all of Skyrim. All of Tamriel,"
She launched herself to her feet then, with her good arm, jammed the Blade of Woe into Estaria's chest. Like Astrid, she saw it coming and her hand deflected the worst of it, but the pain, the sting…it was unbearable. Her hand shook uncontrollably as she fell against the wall, screaming in pain.
"Useless," Astrid mumbled. "If I was to go down, I'd go down by a fighter, not a pathetic little Nord milk drinker like you,"
She closed in on Estaria. The smell of raspberries off her hair was an insult to her lifestyle. A murderer of innocent people for money, a raving mad woman whose sword drank the life of her foes, who still managed to find the time to tend to her hair.
She pressed the Blade of Woe into Estaria's throat, whose bloody hand still clutched her enchanted ebony blade. Maybe this was the moment…the moment to end the Dark Brotherhood once and for all…she felt sweat run down her face, her eyes stinging at the thought of Jorrvaskr, where she swore to return to the following day to discuss marriage…a marriage that may never happen…
No. It will happen. By all the Gods, I'm leaving this shack alive.
The smell of raspberries was even stronger now she and Astrid were practically nose to nose.
"Anything you'd like to say before I send you to Sithis?" she whispered sweetly, her tone not matching her sweating, bloody face.
Estaria put on her most pained, fearful expression. "Please…" she whispered. "Don't kill me…"
Astrid laughed. Estaria saw her wince as she lowered her blooded, broken arm.
"So be it, then. I offered you repayment. You refused it. Now you will die. It's a shame, really. I was planning on kidnapping you at your wedding…"
As Astrid raised the sword, Estaria grabbed all her strength, raised her blade and, screaming in effort, pushed Astrid off her, sending her to the floor. Dropping to her knees, she plunged the sword in Astrid's heart. Fire and lightning spread all over her body and she screamed in pain. Then she stopped, simply to gasp.
"This ends now, Astrid," Estaria growled.
To her surprise, Astrid dropped her sword and grabbed the clothing around Estaria's heart. A tear trailed sideways from her left eye, dripping into her ear. And suddenly, despite her hatred for Astrid and for the Dark Brotherhood, Estaria felt a twinge of pity, enough to reach up to the trembling hand on her chest and hold it.
"I knew I wouldn't last forever," Astrid croaked. "You were an honourable opponent…Dragonborn,"
Estaria said nothing, but allowed her lips to stretch ever so slightly. More of a smirk than a smile, really.
What a battle she had just endured. She had slain the leader of the Dark Brotherhood. She had saved many innocent lives in Skyrim by doing so. She had taken a hungry blade to hand, face and stomach. The blood still flowed thickly and painfully and her vision was still fogged. She had no idea where she was or how she was to get home. But she had avenged many people. She had prevented the deaths off hundreds, thousands. And a ruthless killer lay dying at her knees, sucking every breath of air hungrily. So why was all she felt pity? Why did she feel a twinge of remorse? Why did she suddenly wish she hadn't delivered the final blow? And why, oh why, did she feel that if she joined the Dark Brotherhood, as Astrid clearly wished, she would be accepted into their family as a sister, a daughter, a friend?
"Well done…" Astrid whispered, then she breathed out one final time and her body went limp.
Estaria let go of Astrid's hand and retrieved the Blade of Woe. A sudden thirst for power ran through her veins. The sword was clearly one of the most powerful in Skyrim. Perhaps passed down from generation to generation? Or dead enemy to living champion, to dead enemy to living champion?
She rummaged through Astrid's pockets and found the key to the shack. She'd Aura Whisper to find life then ask for a way back to Whiterun. Perhaps the prisoners knew where they were going, if she'd free them.
"Thank you," she whispered, in response to Astrid's final words.
She then pulled herself up, freed the captives and set out on her journey home. She swore to herself she'd soon forget this, but at the back of her mind, where logic still roamed, she knew she never would.