In the master bedroom in one of the houses located in the Valunstrad quarter of Windhelm, a young thief sits at one of the small tables mindlessly plucking at the strings of a lute she found in a bandit hideout on her way to find a thrice-damned Elder Scroll. Gwendolyn knew she played rather ill, but even the discordant notes that her fingers coaxed out of the strings brought order to the chaos to her now confused mind.
"You know, I remember a time when the dragon sitting before me would fight tooth and nail to get what she wanted. Are you just going to let him slip through your fingers, my Champion?"
Steel disks peer out from under dark lashes at the robed figure in the doorway, the thief shaking her head in veiled amusement. "And what brings you from Quagmire, Vaermina? I'm sure as your Champion, you wouldn't need to come all the way to Nirn to check on my wellbeing- my memories and dreams could have saved you the trip."
"Ah, but as my Champion you're entitled to a little bit of preferential treatment, something the rest do not receive."
The thief wouldn't admit it, but her interest was piqued slightly. "I'm sure this treatment comes at a price?"
"All things do when they involve the Princes, you know this. However, the price, I think, is one you'll be more than willing to pay."
"That all depends on what you're offering."
Long fingers snap and two bottles appear on the table next to Gwendolyn. "I'm sure you remember what these are?"
It only took a quick glance to see what the bottles held. "Two bottles of torpor? And who was the original owner of these memories?" The woman peers at the label on both bottles and frowns. "There's no price I'd pay for these, not after everything."
"He's not chasing the Dark Elf to bed her. He's chasing her to kill her in order to keep his darker secrets protected. Wouldn't you even remotely like to know the what, the where, and especially the why?"
"Everyone's entitled to their secrets. I'm sure if Mercer wanted me to know of whatever sordid details were in his past he would tell me."
"He came close to doing so. Think about it- what was the conversation you had after your first round of primal fucking on your floor, when you both were in bed? He asked you if you had ever betrayed someone who trusted you with their life, then he mentioned something about a 'subtle shift' in the Cistern when you arrived there. Perhaps he wanted to see if you even understood, or perhaps he didn't because the man's trying to protect you, my Champion."
"Close isn't actually doing it, Dreamweaver. I understand better than most, but even if I didn't, I wouldn't have just tossed him aside because I was afraid of it- or him."
Before Gwendolyn could say anymore, Vaermina cuts her off with a short sentence. "Mercer Frey is going to die."
"What?"
"If you don't somehow go with your Guild Master, he is going to die."
"Even with...?"
A nod. "Regardless of your attendance, the Night Mother is going to tell your Listener friend to not get involved in the squabbles of the extended family, regardless of the Brotherhood's love for you."
"I had to try, she can't blame me for that. Though if she did want me coming back to officially join her motley crew of murderers, denying me help wasn't the way to get it," the young thief says with a huff. "So, let's say, if I wanted the why..." The red bottle on the left starts glowing purple in response. "What's the second one for then?"
"That is your contingency plan if you can't convince the Nightingale that he needs a little bit more protection from the one who hunts him. It will allow you to dreamstride to the place the Dunmer said 'where the end began'."
Gwendolyn's brows furrow in thought. "Are you and the other Princes bored or something? First Mephala, now you. Next thing you'll tell me Nocturnal will grace this lowly thief with a visit..." She sighs quietly, her eyes staring at the two potions on the table beside her. "Before I say yes or no, what's the price?"
Another snap of the Daedra's fingers has a sealed piece of parchment in the woman's lap. Deft digits pick the paper up, break the wax and unfold it. "That's it? Nothing else?"
"Just that. Your choice on where you get them from."
"Time frame?"
"Just don't keep me waiting an eternity, my Champion."
I hated dreamwalking the first time and the second time made me like it even less, the thief thinks as she blinks away the effects of the potion induced vision. The torpor brought her from the snow covered streets of Windhelm to the much warmer walkways of Riften- more specifically, the backyard of one Riftweald Manor. Gwendolyn observes Memory Mercer activating the gearbox under the balcony with an arrow causing a ramp to lower- Paranoid much?- then raises it back up before unlocking the door on the second floor. She was surprised at the fact that, though the home was furnished, there were few personal touches- things that screamed that Mercer Frey lived here. Perhaps he is of the same mind- why keep anything remotely valuable near the den of thieves?
The memory continues on, down to the first floor, through a closed set of doors and over to a cabinet on the far left side of the room. A slight push has the back sliding away, revealing a staircase to a secret basement. Curiouser and Curiouser. And what would you have need for this, Mercer? Mercer and his observer move on, heading into a series of trapped tunnels into what Gwendolyn would deem a hidden office of sorts. The woman takes note of things around the room- some gems in a bowl, a bust of a person wearing a mask in thieves' guild garb, some books and papers, and a sword in a display case. It was a second, smaller case attached to a pedestal that held the memory's attention and the man kneels before it, pressing slight indentations on the stone column, and as the memory fades away, both man and woman hear the tell-tale click of a lock clicking open...
As the young thief comes back to herself, gray eyes land on the same pedestal and automatically deft fingers reach out and pushes at the same places she saw past Mercer press. Pressing the last button, she inhales, praying that in the haze and the memory ending that one wasn't missed. Finally, just as she was about to bolt due to paranoia, a soft click hits her ears, causing her to sigh in relief. Alright, let us see what the supposed why is, Vaermina. I'm blatantly disregarding a rule here, breaking into Mercer's house like this. Rising, Gwendolyn slowly flips back the lid and looks down into the case. Confused orbs blink once, then twice, and finally she just goes "A...key?" She reaches down and picks the seemingly innocuous item up, nearly dropping it when she feels underlying power coursing through the metal. "Not just a key. Then what are you?"
You're a smart one. I can see why my Nightingale prefers your company over the idiots as he calls them. And so my Skeleton Key has been unknowingly and unwillingly passed on to a new protector- a dragon in human form at that.
"Nocturnal..." Gwendolyn's mind whirls, trying to remember what she's read on the Daedric Prince of Night and Darkness, Nightingales and that of her Skeleton Key...which honestly wasn't much. Just the rumor that she heard more than once around the Guild that the Nightingales where the fictional avengers of Nocturnal and that, at least according to a somewhat drunken Vex, woven into tales to scare the newer thieves into doing what they were told. But, couldn't some truth be in the myth? "Are all of the Princes working together to throw some more chaos into my life? Surely there is someone more deserving of your collective attentions?"
No, to the first question. It is just a few of us who decided to work together and reward their Champion by pushing things in a certain direction- make their life a little less boring, happier even.
"I'm not your Champion though, so why do you care?"
Not yet. But you will be. Also, you've given one of my Nightingales quite the challenge, with him trying to figure out how to keep you out of harms way while the other one seems set on forcing you into it.
"I won't be your Champion if I don't agree to it- free will you know and all that." The brunette sighs, her tired eyes staring at the tool in her hand. "What is it that you want? I'm not agreeing to anything before I hear your terms."
Are we negotiating? The voice of Nocturnal lifts in pitch slightly, as if asking a question that she already knew the answer to.
"Always."
A chuckle echoes through the small room as Gwendolyn feels something akin to a hand ruffling her hair. Oh you are a delight. Very well. You are at least somewhat aware of what has transpired and is currently happening between my remaining two Nightingales, the Daedra states factually. What you know is true... from a certain point of view, of course. You, Gwendolyn Maullaine, wish to seek revenge on the Dark Elf that is set on destroying your happiness. I wish to punish the same Dark Elf for failing to fulfill her end of the contract she agreed to over twenty years ago. I am sure we can come to some mutually beneficial agreement.
Great. Another Daedra wants to claim part of my soul. If I was a Nord, I would have definitely ensured my soul was not going to Sovngarde by now with the oaths I've sworn to the various Princes. Though the thought of giving yet another Prince some semblance of control in her life bothered the thief (albeit slightly), Gwendolyn couldn't help but crave the power Nocturnal would be able to bestow. "I'm listening."
The brunette could almost hear the purr of delight in Nocturnal's voice. Excellent. In exchange for... helping me properly punish her for all transgressions, as well as swearing your service to me, I will allow you usage of my Key for a time.
"Well that doesn't necessarily work well in my favor now does it? Use of something I will end up having to return at your order, no doubt. So who is to say that you won't demand it back as soon as I swear myself to your service? No, I want something a bit more tangible as well as the use of this- with a set time frame as to when and how it is to be returned," the woman holds up the item in question, knowing the Daedra could see everything even though she could not see the Prince.
For a few minutes, Notcurnal says nothing, the Prince's mind attempting to see the possible outcomes of what the Dragonborn wanted from this negotiation. Though she did not have dominion over the realm of knowledge, the Daedra did, however, understand how her thieves thought- especially the ones she considered worthy of her favor. One particular future interested her, but it would take patience, time, and more than a little bit of manipulation for it to happen and come to fruition- more than the Queen of Shadows would normally allow for a contract. The return on investment, though, would be worth the wait- and that was all the Daedra cared about.
It was obvious that the mortal was getting nervous, though the mahogany haired female refused to outwardly show it. I don't have time for negotiating with anyone, let alone a Prince, Gwen inwardly sighs, mentally preparing herself for a drawn out debate.
You realize that there will have to be some sacrifices made, yes? It will never truly be normal? Wouldn't another be a better substitute?
"I understand having to sacrifice more than most- been doing enough sacrificing for others ever since the mantle of being the Last Dragonborn got hoisted on my shoulders. I am no longer giving up my happiness for others- I need to take care of me and mine first and foremost now."
Your terms are acceptable, though I wish to add one more of my own.
"Not surprising. What is it?" When the Daedra told Gwen her last request to the contract, the woman snorts softly. "You're assuming such a thing is possible."
Not assuming. Fact. With what I've seen, heard and have been told? There will be no problems with that happening.
"If that is the case, then I have my own additional conditions as well." When Gwendolyn states her extra terms, Nocturnal goes to object, but the thief points out "Considering what you want to add onto the contract, the least you can do is make it worth my while. You know as well as I do I can and should ask for more than I am, with you wanting my service in the afterlife plus the other conditions. In the end, you still come out with more than I do."
This is true. Very well, the terms are acceptable. I look forward to seeing how you flourish now, little dragon. The game has just gotten all the more interesting...
A/N: I wasn't really sure on how to handle Vaermina, simply because of the fact in Skyrim, you don't have that much dealing with her save when Erandur is trying to destroy the staff. I'm really not sure if I did her enough justice... maybe I should break out Oblivion and see how she gets portrayed there, get some better inspiration.
Part of me would have loved having Nocturnal channel an inner John Milton, the character that Al Pacino plays in The Devil's Advocate. That movie (and book, though the movie changes some things from the book) was the inspiration for the "Are we negotiating" and "Always" lines. I can see Nocturnal manipulating a way to get what she wants in all forms, including making sure that Karliah was duly punished for screwing up... you can tell I was rather bothered that the Dunmer thief got off rather scott free when it came to Mercer being able to swipe the key (Yes, I know she ran for her life for over 25 years, but I don't think that was punishment enough)... Yes, I still don't like Karliah. Can't help it.
Next in the story: Mercer fucks up and gets caught, which leads to an interesting conversation, chains, and other things. We're getting closer to Snow Veil Sanctum... Poor Gwen...