"Not every nightmare is about fear or terror," Vaermina mused. "Sometimes a nightmare can be simply around the idea of 'what if?'. What if I had said yes instead of no? What if I had turned left instead of right? What if?"
There was no actual form for Vaermina, Daedric Lord of Nightmares, but Erandur could sense its attention focus on the woman sleeping on the ground. "This one worries all the time of 'what if?' Fate has chosen her and given her life changing decisions time and time again with each one creating a ripple in reality. It plagues her to wonder what her life could have been."
Diana sighed as she stared at her image in the full length mirror. "What the hell was I thinking?" she muttered as she pulled at the heavy material of her Nordic wedding dress. The cloth was thick and warm, but essentially functional. The Imperial felt dowdy and fat in the form concealing outfit. Definitely not the wedding gown she had imagined she would wear when she was a small girl in Bravil. When she had dreamed of being a bride, Diana had thought she would wear a form fitting sleeveless gown of pure white made of satin and silk with a wide skirt that would flow in the summer breeze.
Not that she had given much thought of marriage once she had left home at the age of seventeen to join the Imperial army to be an apprentice blacksmith and archer. After that, the thought of going home, finding a husband, and just keeping a house and a handful of children day after dreary day had felt like the worst possible life she could live.
After serving her two years in the army, Diana had taken to the road finding work where she could. Every place new she adopted a new name making a temporary life around that fleeting profession. She had been a farmhand, a tavern wench, a bounty hunter, and many more lives in-between. The last year had been particularly eventful when she found herself accidentally in Skyrim and discovered her destiny as the Dragonborn of prophecy.
Every day had been a new experience whether it was helping Arcadia the alchemist with her potions or exploring a Draugr barrow with her housecarl Lydia for ancient treasure and words of power. She had saved lives and even saved the world from destruction from Alduin the World-Eater.
Now Diana was thirty-two years old and it was finally her wedding day. Somewhere along the way, love had been found. At least Diana hoped it was love. She knew she was different than others in that she didn't feel emotions the same way. She didn't fear death, old age, or even spiders and jesters the way so many others did. If she couldn't understand such a basic emotion like fear how could she feel the infinitely more complicated emotion of love?
Did dragons love? After all, her soul was a dragon's soul so maybe she saw the world the way they did. Those powerful, ancient immortal creatures craved power and wealth, but did they connect with others the same way mortals did? They felt loyalty and duty. Paarthurnax was proof of that. Diana wished she could gain the old golden dragon's counsel, but he was far from the Throat of the World teaching his Way of the Voice to other dovah whether they wanted to hear it or not.
Diana swallowed trying to get past the lump in her throat. Her groom was much older than her, old enough to be her father in fact, and she knew he would want children. It wouldn't be the same dreaded experience from her young adulthood for there would be nannies and nursemaids aplenty to help care and raise the heirs.
After all, you only had the best when you were the children of the High King and Queen of Skyrim.
"You look magnificent," the deep, pleasant voice of Ulfric Stormcloak shook Diana out of her reverie. "Truly, the people of Skyrim are blessed to have you as their Queen."
"You shouldn't see me!" Diana exclaimed hiding her face. "It's bad luck to see the bride before the ceremony!"
"Bah, foolish Imperial superstitions," Ulfric laughed as he walked to his bride. His large hands gently pulled hers away from her face. It always astounded her how gentle the Bear of Eastmarch could be especially given the reputation of his temper and ferocity. Ulfric's steel gray eyes bore into her sapphire blue ones as he leaned forward for a passionate kiss. "Here in Skyrim, we Nords understand how important it is to take what you can while you can. Much like a delicate flower blooming during the brief weeks of summer, we must enjoy life when and where we can and not wait for the right moment!"
"Always so passionate," Diana giggled nervously. She looked into the mirror again. At least the wreath of flowers in her hair sort of resembled how she imagined they would be. It was true her hair was in a strict braid wrapped around her crown instead of flowing loose and the flowers were pastel mountain flowers instead of fiery red roses, but they were beautiful and added some color to her pinched, pale face.
"You make me passionate," Ulfric growled playfully as he drew her closer. Hungry lips crushed against hers again before trailing to the hollow of her neck. "I'm not sure I can wait until tonight."
"You're going to have to," Diana protested as she slipped out of her groom's grasp. "The ceremony is in two hours and I don't think you want all the important delegates of Skyrim to see your bride with mussed makeup and hair."
"Why not?" Ulfric smirked. "Let them see your glowing face and be full of envy. Men will be enthralled by your beauty and women will lust for my prowess. I know you enjoyed it well enough."
Diana flushed with embarrassment remembering the one time she had fucked Ulfric. It was such a crude term, but it was the most honest expression of their coupling. When she had been sent by Balgruuf to deliver his message regarding the war, Ulfric had pulled her aside to privately offer her to be his second-in-command in his army. Diana had responded by pushing the tall Nord against his war table, climbing onto him, and riding Ulfric until they both came.
"I'll take that as a 'yes' then," Ulfric had said breathlessly as Diana slumped against his form. Little red and blue flags had been scattered all over the table.
"Do you think anyone heard us?" Diana had asked regretting what she had done. Ulfric's grin told her he had hoped they had.
She had been emotionally wound up since her battle with Alduin and had lusted after Ulfric since she had first met him in the wagon driving to their failed execution in Helgen. There had been no chance to rest at Breezehome before Balgruuf had sent her off to run his errand. One would think the savior of the world would get a few days to herself to recover from fighting a soul devouring immortal dragon, but instead she had been reassigned as messenger and sent off again immediately. When Ulfric had loomed over her with his offer, something in her snapped and she had grabbed the man and taken him as she had fantasized several times in the past.
Now that the deed was done, Diana didn't want him anymore. It was like with every other lover she had ever taken. Fiery passion and nervous pondering until a few hours of coupling and then she moved on without a look back. You couldn't afford to make attachments with the lifestyle Diana had adopted.
Unfortunately she had made attachments. There were people in Skyrim that the Imperial cared for such as Lydia and Adrianne and the numberless people she had assisted in her travels the last six months in this cold, strange land. It made sense to back Ulfric to free the people so they could live as they wished. There was the unpleasant xenophobic attitude some Stormcloaks had adopted, but Diana felt if there was no positive influence to sway them to a more open-minded attitude, then the rebels would never find a way to accept the different races as with them instead of against them.
Fighting beside Ulfric had reinforced Diana's respect of his strength, willpower, and conviction. There was an aura of presence about Ulfric Stormcloak that was intoxicating to her. He didn't bow before fate like she seemed to time and time again. Instead, Ulfric grabbed destiny by the shoulders and made it his own. She respected him and would die for him, so surely she must love him on some level.
"I will wait until tonight, then," Ulfric said pulling Diana back to the present, "but then you will be mine." He gave a half bow before leaving to finish his own preparations for the wedding.
Diana frowned at Ulfric's parting comment. She didn't care for the thought of belonging to anyone. She wanted freedom and the night sky stretching above her as she hunted. Part of her, the dragon soul, wanted to sour in the sky with the world far below, but that would never happen with this frail human body. Instead, she would have to settle for standing on the parapets enjoying the cold breeze from the lake east of Windhelm. Maybe the fresh air would help calm her nerves.
Once Diana was outside, she had to admit that it was going to be a beautiful day. The skies were azure blue with no clouds in sight. It probably didn't hurt that she had spent the previous day using her Clear SkiesShout to blast any offending clouds from the sky.
On the southern side of the castle, Diana could see some late arrivals coming to the Palace of Kings. It looked like the Markarth contingent was just coming in meaning that should be the last of the guests. No one would dare to arrive late for this event. Ulfric was either insanely popular or hated in Skyrim. After defeating the Imperial representatives in Castle Dour in Solitude, even Jarl Elisif had sworn allegiance to Ulfric. He wasn't officially the High King yet, but the High Moot was irrelevant in the eyes of the Nords. The wedding of the new High King to the one and only Dragonborn was not an event to be missed.
She didn't feel like watching the trains of people making their way to the Palace. Instead, she moved to the eastern side to look down at the docks below. Argonians worked diligently despite the humans getting the day off to celebrate the wedding of their jarl. "Someday," she promised. "You won't have to be second-class citizens forever."
Off to one side, a pair of Stormcloak soldiers walked past keeping a patrol. Even on a day of celebration like this, security had to be maintained. "What do you think of the execution the jarl has planned for after the ceremony?" one asked.
"The only good Imperial is a dead one as far as I'm concerned," the other replied. "They'll die too quickly for their crimes, but at least we don't torture our prisoners unlike the damned Empire."
"What is this about an execution?" Diana asked intercepting the two men. "I hadn't heard anything about prisoners." The two men looked uncomfortable as they remembered their queen-to-be was an Imperial too.
"Lord Galmar informed the guards this morning," the first one admitted. "There is to be an execution of some prisoners after the wedding. Primarily some Imperials. One was found to be guilty of killing all those girls last year and the other was a jester found carrying some sort of illegal material through Skyrim."
"A jester?" Diana whispered. She remembered running into a jester when she was returning to Whiterun after defeating Alduin. An Imperial named Cicero who had been stranded when his wagon wheel broke. The man had been quite distraught at the thought of not being able to deliver his mother's coffin to a family crypt after her old one had been destroyed. She had promised to send help because the local farmer Loreius refused to assist the traveler, but when Ulfberth had arrived with his temporary wheel, the jester, wagon, and coffin were gone. Diana had assumed Loreius had simply had a change of heart and helped fix the wheel after she had tried talking to him.
"Yes, ma'am," the second guard confirmed. "A loyal son of Skyrim reported his suspicious behavior to a guard and the man was duly arrested. They opened the crate and found something inside. Not much word on exactly what it was, but it was enough for even Jarl Ulfric to get personally involved. That's why the man was sent here to be tried instead of Dawnstar."
"Where is he?" Diana asked. "Where is the jester?"
"In the cells, Dragonborn," the first guard said suddenly formal. He seemed to realize that she was getting upset. "Would you like an escort, Dragonborn?"
"No, I know the way," Diana snapped. She hated when the guards used her title every other sentence. She pushed past the guards and made her way to the dungeon cells where prisoners were kept. As Diana rushed through the halls, she accidentally bumped into an older Dunmer wearing hooded monk robes and an Amulet of Mara. He was undoubtedly here to perform the wedding ceremony although one would think the church would know better than to send a mer. At least he wasn't an Altmer. Ulfric would never stand for an Altmer presiding over his wedding. "Excuse me," Diana muttered as she hurried past.
The scenery melted around her as she practically ran to the dungeons. Immediately, she made out the figure of a red haired Imperial man sitting in one of the cells. His jester's motley had been replaced by a ragged prisoner's outfit just like the one she had worn when she had almost been beheaded at Helgen, but Diana still recognized Cicero.
"Oh gods, Cicero, I'm so sorry," she cried as she slammed against the cell's bars. "I didn't know!"
"Why it's the kindly stranger," Cicero grinned strangely. He laughed bitterly. "Come to 'help' poor Cicero some more? He's not sure he could take more of such assistance. After you left a guard came and said someone had reported that poor Cicero had been transporting weapons for the Empire. They put Cicero in chains and dragged him all the way back to Dawnstar." Cicero laughed madly. "All the way back to our starting point. It is to laugh, truly. Then they opened Mother's coffin. Dirty, filthy, unworthy eyes looking at Cicero's dear, sweet Mother."
Diana flinched from the dark almost yellow eyes she saw staring from Cicero's dirty face. He had obviously been here for some time by the state of his dress. The Imperial was filthy from dirt and grime. His shoulder length red hair hung in oily clumps. From the last time she had seen him, Diana would have expected Cicero in tears or a near catatonic state. Instead, Cicero was sitting calmly and if not for his insane gaze, one would think he was at a dining hall listening to a funny joke from the lopsided smile on his face. He was calm and still in the way only large predators were.
She thought she would move away from the bars a moment too slow. Although Cicero had been at the other side of the cell, he was suddenly inches from her with his arm through the bars. Thin, fine fingers gripped her throat painfully. "I should repay you for your treachery," he hissed menacingly.
It was impossible to breathe much less speak. Diana wrapped her hands around Cicero's wrist, but he didn't budge from her batting at him. Cicero's dark gaze flickered to her eyes and his expression softened. Just as suddenly he released her allowing her to slump to her knees. "Your eyes are much too kind for the betrayal. It must have been Loreius, damn him," Cicero whispered. He sighed. "I had hoped to avenge Mother before being sent to the Void."
"I'll help you," she gasped as she rubbed her throat. "I should have stayed and made sure you were properly on your way. I couldn't help you then, so I'll help you now."
"You would do that?" Cicero asked happily. He danced a merry jig. "Oh you would! Clever Cicero can tell!"
Diana looked around and found a ring of keys dangling from the far wall. She grabbed it and tried the keys until one worked. When the cell door swung open, Cicero squealed with joy as he leapt out. He did a cartwheel and somersaults around the room until he landed next to Diana again. Then he grabbed her around the waist and swung her around several times.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" he chanted. Then the jester grabbed the keys and used them to unlock the next cell. "Come, Calixto, come. It is time to leave!"
"That's the Butcher!" Diana protested. "He killed about a dozen women!"
"Oh yes! Cicero heard about the Butcher. Interesting knife work," Cicero chuckled. "We are two of a kind so of course Cicero must free Calixto."
"What were you imprisoned for?" Diana asked too late. Her stomach sunk from Cicero's declaration.
"Why for transporting the Night Mother's body, my kindly stranger," Cicero grinned madly. "For being a Brotherhood assassin."
"Oh gods," Diana gasped. She turned to run, but Cicero was faster and grabbed her by the wrist. He jerked her towards him and held her tightly.
"Don't leave just yet," Cicero whispered darkly in her ear. "We still have need of you."
"We should kill her," Calixto muttered. "Women are only trouble. Except my poor, dead sister Lucilla."
"Yes, yes, Cicero knows all about poor Calixto's dead sister," Cicero scoffed as he pushed Diana towards the serial killer. Calixto easily grabbed her to keep her from running and clasped on hand over her mouth to keep her from screaming for help. The jester quickly shucked his prisoner's garb and opened a chest to reveal his precious motley. Within moments, the redhead was dressed in his trademark outfit again. An ebony dagger gleamed when Cicero sheathed it on his belt.
"Don't act as if I didn't have to listen you ramble on and on about your mother," Calixto snarled as he returned the struggling Diana to Cicero so he could retrieve his own clothes.
"She's your mother now too," Cicero reminded the Butcher. "Unless you would rather stay alone?"
"No, no, I don't think so," Calixto muttered. "If your Night Mother can truly provide plenty of targets to kill, then I'll have plenty of parts to bring my sister back from the dead. I can feel complete again."
"Oh, we'll have sooooo much fun," Cicero laughed. "Come, we must escape now and return later for our women." He dragged Diana in front of him as they left. She found herself now a human shield.
Exiting through the guards' barracks was ridiculously easy. Guards jumped to their feet in various degrees of dress with their weapons drawn but hesitated attacking when they saw their jarl's bride in the mad man's arms. Cicero had drawn his dagger and had it pressed against Diana's throat.
They had made it to the main court room when Ulfric arrived on the scene. "Faithless Imperials," he spat when he saw the escapees. "Release the Dragonborn and we'll make your deaths quick."
"My, isn't he the negotiator?" Cicero laughed. "Considering you were going to give us a quick death that we've already turned down, Cicero thinks he'll pass."
"Then if you do not return my bride to me, then I'll personally destroy your precious Night Mother," Ulfric countered.
"Hmmm, a bride for a Bride then?" Cicero offered. "Cicero will give you your Dragonborn and Ulfric will give loyal Cicero his Mother!" The assassin kept backing away from the soldiers who had gathered in their jarl's defense. "We'll wait on the bridge for five minutes and not a moment longer. If you truly want this woman, you'll bring Mother. If not, then…." He trailed off, his threat clear.
Calixto pulled the huge stone doors open allowing the two Imperials to retreat with their hostage. People had gathered to see what the fuss was about, but now they fell back like leaves scattered on the wind as the men moved among them. No one wanted to be possibly associated with them.
Diana saw the Dunmer priest again. His lips were moving, maybe in prayer, but she couldn't make out any of his words.
Within moments, they were on the bridge leaving Windhelm. "Secure a wagon from the stables," Cicero commanded Calixto who ran off to obey. Diana still couldn't reconcile the complete difference in his demeanor. When they had met before Cicero had been, or at least appeared, scared and timid. Now he was confident and command. It was like two different people.
Almost as soon as Calixto disappeared at the far end of the bridge, Ulfric appeared with his guard and the Night Mother's coffin. "Come to me, jester," Ulfric demanded, "and I will trade as you requested."
"Hm, no," Cicero laughed. "Cicero has a different idea." He gestured with one hand, magicka encasing his fist, and the Night Mother's coffin flew from the guards' hands. He spun Diana around so she was facing him for the first time. She drew in her breath to blast the assassin with her Shout when Cicero leaned forward to whisper quickly in her ear, "You've been kind to poor Cicero. The only person in all of Skyrim to show an ounce of kindness and for that Cicero thanks you." He kissed her gently on the lips. His eyes were open and now gentle amber instead of the hard yellow before. "I'm sorry."
"Sorry for what?" she tried to ask, but the blade that was sunk into her gut stopped her from talking.
"It's not a mortal wound. You'll probably survive," Cicero explained. "It's the most Cicero can do. I wish we could have met again under different circumstances." He then pushed her off the bridge before grabbing his Mother's coffin with the telekinesis spell again. As Diana fell to the cold water below, she could hear his mad laughter as Cicero escaped with his dear Mother.
Diana always knew she would die one day. She had tempted fate time and time again with killing bandits, opening trapped chests, and battling dragons. The idea of dying bloody and alone had been in her mind for a long time now. But to be killed by someone she had helped was an outrage! Diana wrapped her hand around her wound and felt the hot sticky blood, even in the cold lake water. Rage filled her. She managed to flip around and swim to the surface.
Water dripped off her in rivets and the flower wreath had torn to pieces in the lake. Rage and anger flooded through her. No one treated her that way. No one. No. One. When she broke the surface, Diana Shouted, "STRUN BO QO!" Dark, angry clouds filled the sky as far as one could see and rain immediately poured down. Lightning struck in erratic patterns. She grinned toothily when she saw Calixto hit by one of the bolts as the two Imperials loaded the coffin into the wagon Calixto had secured.
Ignoring the wound, Diana stalked over to the dead Imperial and grabbed his iron dagger. She ignored the heat of the metal that lingered from the lightning strike. The twisted and darkened metal felt right as she slashed at Cicero's face with it.
"You're tougher than I thought," Cicero laughed as he danced away. Lightning continued to rain down between them. "Mother would have liked you."
"Darkness rises…" a female voice echoed in Diana's mind.
"Shut up!" she screamed, her dragon blood in full command. She lashed out with a foot and kicked the great stone coffin over. Cicero screamed in fury when he saw her disrespect his mother's coffin. He launched himself at her and right into the dagger she was holding. Diana laughed madly as she watched Cicero's eyes widen in shock and then dull in death.
The soaked, bloodied, maddened Dragonborn triumphantly turned towards her groom and people and saw that they were all dead. The lightning storm had been indiscriminate in its attacks and anyone who had been outside had become a victim. The city of Windhelm was now a massive grave.
Diana threw her head back and screamed, "This is a nightmare!"
"Interesting," Vaermina murmured. "It had appeared she had questioned her decision to join Ulfric initially, but the true fear was that of losing control of her temper and thus her powers and killing everyone around her. I must admit that I love assassins. Creatures who kill for hire, but have their own set of internal rules. They say there is honor among thieves, but what about their estranged, murderous cousins? There are those who are simply bloodthirsty cutthroats, but the best murderers for hire are infinitely complicated like these two. Surely they will provide many nightmares before they die."
Erandur tuned out the daedra lord's contemplations. Vaermina was merely talking to herself and not the Dark Elf. He was more interested in the fact that he had almost made contact with the woman in her mind. Erandur prayed that if he tried hard enough, he could give Hecate and Cicero a clue about their dreaming state so they could turn the tides against Vaermina.
The priest of Mara was intrigued that both had dreamed of being apart and briefly reunited. He observed how their hands had fallen close together and on the verge of touching as they twitched and twisted while dreaming. Could assassins love? Especially the chosen of the Night Mother and Sithis? That didn't seem plausible, but neither did a follower of Vaermina finding salvation in Mara. And Erandur liked to think he had turned out for the better after his conversion to the goddess of love.
Maybe Mara had sent these two instead of it being random happenstance.
Maybe there was still a chance to win.
Erandur could dream, couldn't he?
