Forgiveness

"Brother?" Vox stared at me incredulously, reaching out his hand and then retracting it. His expression was unreadable and the green-tinged blood started rushing to my head and roaring through my ears. Everything felt muted and quiet. I hadn't seen him in almost two years.

Vox took a step towards me, wrapping me in his scaled arms and laughing.

"Brother! It's been so long", he held me out at arms length and stared at me. "You look like shit."

"I wasn't exactly prepared for a dragon attack when I was aroused from my bed this morning", I said slightly under my breath. If the dragon's bones hadn't remained, I'm not sure I would have believed what had happened just moments before. I was still in shock from the fact that my brother was standing in front of me. I wanted to run… or kill myself. In the moment, I couldn't decide which; both seemed legitimate and viable options. He'd been like an apparition ever since I left.

"Gods bless, you're alive. Orla and I thought you were dead", he laughed and pulled my neck towards him with the crook of his arm.

"I…" was all I could bring myself to say. He sighed and just shook his head.

"I really did think you were dead." The soldiers standing around us just stared in awe and one of the shorter men approached with a bloodied sword.

"Your sword, dovahkiin", he bowed and held the sword out. I stared at Vox with utter shock. I'd heard the guards muttering about it when the dragon fell, but I hadn't really been paying attention.

"Vox-"

"We'll discuss it over a drink. The slaying of a dragon and the saving of a city is certainly worth having a drink over, don't you think, brother?" He smiled that used-to-be familiar toothy grin and dragged me by the neck to the pub inside of Windhelm.

Candlehearth was as crowded as I'd ever seen it and the talk of the bar floor that night was the slaying. I led Vox towards the back of the inn's bottom floor to a small table shoved into the corner. The women were dancing, the bards were singing and the men were wooing. Per usual.

Everyone was celebrating, so why did I feel like I wasn't?

I sat down at the table and stared at the wood, starting to carve a small argonian symbol into it with my claw.

"I'm so sorr-"

"Don't", Vox said, his easy disposition gone in a split second. "I know how you feel. I can see it in your eyes. After you left, I went back to the hagraven's haven and tore through the entire cave, searching for some logical reason that you would-…I managed to find an ancient scroll written in an extinct Dunmer tongue."

"You-"

"The sword was cursed, Rasha. The blade, when it was crafted, was laced with Etur and a number of other spells. The wielder is given strength, but with strength comes the desire for destruction. The blade corrupted you. I couldn't blame you. How could I? My only want was to find you, save you from that horror." I looked down at my waist at my sword and then back up at Vox. He was right.

"And…Orla?" I felt a stab of guilt hit me all of a sudden.

"I told her I'd lost you in the caves." Another stab of guilt. I looked at the wooden floor and her worried expression plastered across the backs of my eyelids; her eyes wide as ever, pleading me to stay in Markarth for one more night with her. I can't. Vox and I are scavenging again. I cursed myself for ever saying those words to her.

Having the sword in my possession caused me to lust for blood; I wanted war. I wanted to kill. Killing was the sole reason I joined the Dark Brotherhood. I was still a part of it, but Astrid had been silent for over a month now. She'd dropped contact with me due to lack of effort on my part. Nahir hasn't given me any new contracts in awhile. Hell, I hadn't seen even them in months. I tended to disappear quite frequently. Babette found me once, but I held hear by the throat and threatened to break her neck if she gave up my location. The weight of the sword on my waist felt phantom-like to me in the memory.

"Cursed…" I pulled the sword out of its holster slightly, rubbing the blade with my thumb longingly.

"I had to find you so I could destroy it", he folded his fingers in front of him and he too looked down at my blade.

"Oh…" I shook my head. This incredible unease settled on my stomach as he said it. My sword…destroyed? He can't destroy it.

Another voice perked up in my mind as if I was talking to myself. Don't let him control you. The sword is yours. You fought for it. You took it. You deserve to have it. I felt torn between my wants and I looked down at my waist once more, hating the sight of it.

"We have to destroy it. It doesn't seem to have taken its full effect on you. Rasha…it will destroy you", he nodded solemnly. I simply stared at him and just nodded. I felt as though he'd never forgive me and this was my only chance at redemption. I reached down to my waist and un-holstered it, handing it over to him quickly before those toxic thoughts weaved their way back in my mind.

"Just take it. I can't want it", I said, dropping it on the table. "Let's destroy it."

"Rasha-"

"No, we have to be rid of it. Now that you've explained this, I can see its…it needs to be done", I looked at him resolutely and he took it from me, careful not to touch the blade.

"Now, we can really celebrate", he flagged down the innkeeper and called for two Kiterunners.