A/N: And now this rewrite is officially in progress! And its rating has been changed to T, because there really wasn't anything in the original version of this that warranted an M rating. If I'm wrong and something I have here is inappropriate for a T rated fanfic, please let me know so I can adjust that. Anyway, the entire remainder of this fanfic still exists, it just isn't posted here right now so I don't have a horrible mismatch in the POV and writing quality on this. If something happens that prevents me from finishing this rewrite, I promise I'll give it a bit of a polish and add it back on to this story so it has a proper ending.
Anyway, my main fix in this chapter was Martin's characterization, so I'm hoping he sounds more like himself here than he did in the first version of this chapter. Any thoughts on how the new POV is working out would also be much appreciated. As would any thoughts on anything else in this fanfic, for that matter.
Disclaimer: The only thing I own here is Remy.
As I stumbled through the small encampment outside what was left of Kvatch, wearing battered, oversized armor and missing most of my blood, I realized that I really needed to learn how to say 'no'. Everything had started off beautifully; I'd actually enjoyed my walk to Weynon Priory, and once I got there Jauffre was reasonable enough to accept that my story about how I got the Amulet of Kings was too ridiculous to be a lie. As soon as I'd given him the amulet, though, everything fell downhill faster than a slippy drunk.
Instead of thanking me and sending me on my way, Jauffre decided that my delivering the amulet made me the best possible person to send after the emperor's bastard son, Martin. I didn't much like the thought of getting more involved in whatever was going on than I already was, but I'd agreed to do it, anyway. It felt too much like the right thing to do for me to walk away from it with a clear conscience, and when another priest offered to lend me his horse on my way out, I'd assumed I could have it done before the day's end. Arriving at Kvatch to find the city in flames and a giant, fiery portal to Oblivion blocking its gates changed that.
In the heat of the moment, I'd thrown myself through the portal and into Oblivion itself. My time there was a blur of sharp claws, snapping teeth, blinding flames, and freezing, ash-filled air, but I managed to keep myself alive long enough to remove the sigil stone that kept it in place somehow. The high from shutting an Oblivion gate kept my mind fuzzy enough for me to charge into Kvatch and reclaim the city along with what was left of the city guard, until it wore off when instead of the scamp I'd been fighting, I stuck my blade into a guard. I hadn't meant to; he just ran right in front of me after I'd already started stabbing. Judging by how fast he went all limp and glassy-eyed, he was dead before he hit the ground.
If any of the other guards noticed what I'd done, they didn't have any reaction I could see. Which just made the whole thing feel worse, really, but there was too much left to do for me to sit down and feel guilty. All the other guards except for their leader, Savlian Matius, died reclaiming the rest of the city and castle from the daedra, and all I got out of my attempt to rescue the count was a long-dead corpse. In retrospect, I'd been far too blunt when describing his condition to Savlian, but at that point we were both too tired for it to turn into a fight. He just yelled for a bit, then gave me his old cuirass in exchange for the count's ring and shoved me out the door to look for Martin.
After asking around the encampment for a bit, I found him, alive and well, leaning against a tent. I'd never been so happy to see a priest. He looked a lot like his father, really. Younger, of course, and his hair was brown instead of white, but he had those same light blue eyes that looked like they could see into your soul.
"Martin!" I cried, and didn't so much hug him as collapse onto him from exhaustion. It didn't have quite the same effect, but at least I'd tried. "By the Nine, am I glad to see you."
"Have we met before?" he asked, probably trying to figure out why a bloody, bedraggled Dunmer was clinging to him and making a mess of his robes. Still, he'd been nice enough to hold me up instead of shoving me off him. It wasn't a bad start.
"Um... no, but I came here to find you. It's good to see you're not a corpse." I peeled myself off him, and managed to stand without swaying too much.
"So you're the one everyone's been talking about. I heard about how you helped the Guard drive the daedra back. Well done. Though if it's a priest you need, I don't think I'll be much help to you. I'm having trouble understanding the gods right now..."
"I don't need a priest, I need you. You have to come with me to Weynon Priory, now. You aren't safe here."
"Of course I'm not safe here; no one is!" Martin snapped. "What could you possibly need me for that's more important than caring for Kvatch's people? Explain yourself."
"Right. You wouldn't know, would you?" I sighed; just once, it would've been nice to have a story that actually made sense. "This is going to sound crazy, but you have to believe me. You're the emperor's son, and at the moment you're the only person who can stop this Oblivion madness before Mehrunes Dagon takes over all of Tamriel."
"That is crazy. I'm just a priest of Akatosh. My father was a farmer. I'm sorry, but you have the wrong man." Martin shook his head and started to back away from me, like he thought I wasn't quite right in the head. Granted, after agreeing to go along with this amulet business and jumping through an Oblivion gate, I'd have been the first to admit that there probably was something wrong with my head, but that wasn't the point. If he could accept his city being destroyed by an army of daedra, I didn't see why Martin couldn't accept being the emperor's long-lost son.
I grabbed his sleeve before he could get too far away. I hadn't come so far and gotten myself ripped to shreds to be labeled as crazy and dismissed; the fate of the world depended on my actions, and I was not about to let the world down. "You don't understand, the emperor told me about you before he died. You didn't know you were his son because no one wanted you to. Please, just come with me!"
Martin's face softened a little. "The emperor spoke to you before he died? And he told you to find me?"
"Yes! Why would I lie about something like that; I have nothing to gain from it."
"This is insane, but... I think you may be telling the truth."
"So you'll come with me?"
"Yes. Lead on."
I led him to where I'd left my horse before he had a chance to change his mind. "You should take the horse; if you don't go too fast, I can keep up. Making the future emperor walk so far is probably against all sorts of laws."
"I appreciate the offer, but I think I can survive making the journey on foot. You look like you can barely stand... I wouldn't want you injuring yourself on my account."
"Thank you..." After a few failed attempts, I managed to hoist myself onto the horse. "We don't have to travel too far; Weynon Priory is just outside Chorrol."
A few minutes down the road, Martin said, "You seem to know a great deal about me, but I don't recall you giving me so much as your name. It would be a shame not to learn it after all you've done for Kvatch."
"I'm Remy. Though honestly, my name probably doesn't matter. I don't plan to make a habit of this hero-ing business. I'm perfectly content to live out the rest of my days as a nameless Waterfront resident after this is done."
"I can't say I blame you. Entering Oblivion must have been a harrowing experience." Martin paused for a moment, then asked, "If you don't mind me asking, how exactly did you become involved in this?"
"It's a bit of a long story..."
"We have time."
"Are you sure you want to know? It's not very... priestly."
Martin smiled at that. "Most stories aren't. I'm sure I can handle it."
"All right, then. The important part is that I ran into the emperor – your father, or so everyone seems to believe – when he tried to get out of the Imperial City through an escape route that happened to lead through my prison cell."
"You were in prison?"
"Yes."
"What for?"
"I had a small bounty for a couple counts of prostitution."
"Strange... Don't you usually need a higher bounty than that for the guards to take an interest in you?"
"How would you know about that?"
"I wasn't always a priest. In my youth, I was a very different man. Let's leave it at that."
"So, you're not going to give me a lecture about what I do for a living?"
"No. So long as it was your choice and done willingly, I have no objections to it."
"I... thank you. You're not half bad for a priest, you know that?"
"I suppose I'll have to take that as a compliment." Martin smiled again, and if I didn't know better I'd have sworn he was trying not to laugh. "Would you like to tell me what you were actually arrested for, now?"
"Nine counts of murder... and necrophilia. Not that I was guilty of it, but when the guards find you in a bed of corpses and you have no idea what happened, they don't tend to care much for what you have to say."
"...Oh. I'm sorry that happened to you."
"Thanks. It's nice to have someone believe in me, for a change."
"Don't you have any family?"
"I used to. An adoptive one, anyway; a Nord couple took me in when I was just a baby. Damn good parents, but they were already old when they found me. They've both been dead for a while now."
"What about friends? Surely you weren't completely alone in the world."
"Not since I moved here from Skyrim a few years back. It's not so bad, though. I don't mind being alone, and the Waterfront's always crowded enough for me to find company when I need it."
"I'm glad you've found happiness for yourself, then."
I shrugged. As far as I was concerned, I'd had a good enough life, and until my false arrest I hadn't seen any reason I should be unhappy with it. Making the best of what I had just seemed to make more sense than sulking over what I didn't have.
"So, Skyrim... That explains the accent. I was having a hard time placing it."
"Most people do. I guess it sounds strange coming from a Dunmer," I said, happy he'd changed the subject. At least I was used to talking about my voice. "Though you're pretty unusual, yourself."
"I never said I wasn't."
With someone to talk to, Chorrol came into view after what felt like no time at all. I was looking forward to handing Martin over to Jauffre and going back to my old life, and it seemed like that could actually happen until we met a shepherd on the road who told us that Weynon Priory was under attack. I should have known things wouldn't be that easy.
When we reached the priory, everyone but Jauffre was dead, and before we'd managed to fight off the assassins that had attacked it, one had run off with the Amulet of Kings. According to Jauffre, the only safe place to keep Martin until we'd found a way to get the amulet back was Cloud Ruler Temple, so instead of sleeping and making my way home, I got a few moments of rest and a healing potion before riding to Bruma. We didn't run into any trouble on the roads, but things got a bit complicated when we reached the city gates.
The emperor might have been nice enough to release me from prison, but his death had stopped news of that from reaching the guards in charge of enforcing his laws. As soon as they caught sight of me, I was in prison for murder and necrophilia again, with the additional charge of escaping prison tacked onto my sentence. After several hours of arguing, Martin and Jauffre managed to convince them I'd been pardoned and get me free again, but by that point it had grown too dark to make it up the path to Cloud Ruler Temple. Once I'd gotten settled into my room at the Jerall View Inn, I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.
My latest recruit had proven to be a considerable challenge to locate. Under different circumstances, I might have praised his skill in evading a Speaker of the Dark Brotherhood, but I did not appreciate expending so much time and energy on a fool that was likely to get himself killed on his first contract. The Dunmer's murder of a Kvatch guard had been a sloppy affair; his ensuing escape from justice, a mere stroke of luck. The Night Mother desired his presence in our family in spite of this, however, and the task of his acquisition had fallen to me. Having no desire to question her will, I began my search in Kvatch, where I had been directed to Chorrol, where I had, in turn, been directed to Bruma.
There, one of the city's beggars wisely directed me to my quarry's location, the Jerall View Inn, without demanding anything in exchange. The innkeeper divulged the location of his room without question, and when I'd located his door, it became clear that he hadn't bothered to so much as lock himself in. Apparently personal security was not high on his list of priorities. I entered the room, remaining unseen and unheard as I shut the door behind me, and immediately wondered if this was all some kind of sick joke.
It was common enough for recruits to have a decidedly nonthreatening appearance, but I had never seen anything quite like this one before. Had he not chosen to sleep shirtless, on top of his blankets, his slight build and mop of ridiculous pink hair might have led me to assume he was a woman, and I'd entered the wrong room. While a washbasin filled with reddish-brown water suggested he'd made a token attempt at bathing himself, he was still remarkably filthy, and had foolishly positioned himself as far from his weapons and armor as was physically possible. Not a single aspect of his actions or appearance suggested an aptitude for stealth, discretion, or even self-preservation; if I hadn't known better, I'd have assumed he was trying to get himself murdered in his sleep. In spite of my best efforts, the Dunmer proved... resistant to my attempts at waking him, and I was left with little choice but to watch him sleep until he woke of his own accord. I hoped that he at least preferred to start his days early...
I woke up the next morning feeling refreshed and ready to face whatever the world decided to throw at me. Until I sat up and noticed that the world had thrown a strange, robed man standing over my bed at me, anyway. Whatever he wanted from me, I didn't think it was anything good, so I did what any reasonable person would have done in that situation and tried tackling him to the floor. When it actually worked, I wished I'd thought up the rest of my plan before putting it into action. Then I might have done something better than just sitting on his chest until he flipped us over and pinned me to the floor.
"Would you stop struggling? I am not trying to harm you!" he hissed, glaring at me from beneath his hood. Most of his face was too shadowy for me to get a good look at, but his nose definitely looked Imperial, and if the stubble covering his jaw was anything to go by, he hadn't shaved in at least a day.
"It's not me I'm worried about!" I managed to wriggle out from under him somehow, and made a dash for my shortsword, that I'd left all the way across the room like an idiot. The man looked far too much like the assassins that had murdered the emperor for my liking, and I was not about to sit by and watch as Martin was murdered, too. I didn't make it far before my attacker was on me again, pinning me against a wall this time.
"I have no idea what you are talking about, but I assure you that my intentions here are entirely nonviolent... So long as you cooperate, anyway."
Martin picked that exact moment to collect me so that we could continue on our journey. "Come on Remy, you can sleep more at Cloud Ruler Temple; Jauffre says we need to be going hours ago, and... I'll just leave you two alone for now..." he said, turning around and firmly shutting the door behind him after he got a good look at us.
"Damn," I muttered, looking wistfully at the door as I tried to get myself free again. Even if he'd gotten the completely wrong idea about what was going on, I still felt like I'd betrayed Martin somehow, and I wanted nothing more than to find him and explain what had really happened. I wasn't going anywhere until whoever had me pinned against the wall got what he wanted, though, so I let myself go limp. "Fine, I'll hear you out. Will you at least tell me your name?"
"I am Lucien Lachance, a Speaker for the Dark Brotherhood. And you, you are a killer. A taker of life. A harvester of souls. Your work, your deathcraft, pleases the Night Mother. And so, I come to you with an offering. An opportunity... to join our rather unique family."
"Please continue, Lucien. ...You can let go of me now. I won't run." Lucien let go of me, and I think I surprised us both when I kept my word. I'm not sure what it was, but something about his voice and the way he talked made me want to hear the rest of what he had to say. He wasn't half bad to look at, either, or at least the parts of his face I could see under his hood weren't. I wondered what he'd look like without it. Gods, he even smelled nice... like crushed herbs and flowers. Granted, he was still an assassin, which meant he could have been involved in the emperor's death, but seeing as he hadn't tried to kill Martin while he was standing in my doorway, I doubted it. Besides, I didn't know much about the Dark Brotherhood, but it didn't seem like they'd be stupid enough to risk angering the entire Empire by wiping out the Septim bloodline. I didn't see how hearing him out would hurt anything.
"Ah, I find your etiquette refreshing. Especially considering your... initial response to my presence. On the Green Road to the north of Bravil lies the Inn of Ill Omen. There you will find a man named Rufio. Kill him, and your initiation into the Dark Brotherhood will be complete. Do this, and the next time you sleep in a location I deem secure, I will reveal myself once more, bearing the love of your new family."
"Oh gods, this is awkward... You see, I'm not actually a murderer. That guard in Kvatch was an accident, and I don't know what you heard about the other murders and necrophilia, but I swear I didn't do it!"
Lucien raised an eyebrow when I mentioned the necrophilia charge, but nothing else I'd said seemed to affect him. "No? The Night Mother seems to think otherwise. Allow me to grand you a gift, in case you reconsider. It is a virgin blade, and thirsts for blood." he said, offering me a rather nice-looking dagger.
I wasn't about to let an opportunity like that pass me by, so I took it. It would be easier to use than the shortsword I'd been stuck with, at least.
"Now, I bid you farewell. I do hope we meet again soon," Lucien purred, then walked out my door and disappeared before I could say anything else.
I just stood there for a moment, staring at the dagger. I had no idea why, but I was actually considering taking Lucien up on his offer. At first, I wondered if he'd cast some kind of charm spell on me, but it wouldn't have made sense for him to wait to cast it until he left instead of using it to stop me from struggling in the first place. I'd come up with the idea on my own, and I didn't know if I liked the thought of that. Yes, I'd always had a bit of a... creative interpretation of the Empire's laws, but prostitution and an occasional bit of petty thievery were a far cry from joining an assassin's guild. Assassination probably paid better, of course, and it wasn't necessarily any more likely to land me in a prison cell, but I liked to think I was above murdering innocent people in cold blood.
Then again, if Rufio had managed to get the Dark Brotherhood called on him, he couldn't have been that innocent. And if I didn't murder him, someone else would, so it wasn't like I'd be saving him by refusing take the contract. Even if I wanted to save him, sabotaging the Dark Brotherhood's plans to murder him seemed like a bad idea. Killing Rufio didn't mean I actually had to join the Dark Brotherhood, anyway. If I really didn't like the feeling, I'd just turn Lucien down and get on with my life. I didn't exactly have a shining reputation to uphold, either; going the entire rest of my life without committing a single crime wouldn't erase everything I'd already been arrested for. Whether I'd been pardoned or not, no guard was ever going to trust me again. But I didn't know if that justified me going along with what they expected of me and killing a random person out of curiosity...
I couldn't stop thinking about it for the rest of the day, and I didn't say much for the rest of the journey to Cloud Ruler Temple. We still weren't any closer to getting the amulet back, but at least Martin would be safe surrounded by a small army of Blades, the official guards of Tamriel's emperor. I probably should have realized that my involvement with Martin and the amulet wouldn't end there, and I found myself traveling back to the Imperial City on my own to ask Baurus, the Blade that had survived the emperor's assassination, if he had found any information on the group that was behind said assassination. But not before I paid a visit to the Inn of Ill Omen.