Belial exited the inn to find the street adorned with people carrying, moving and placing all sorts of different decorations. He didn't pay any attention to it in the slightest. He wasn't invited to the wedding later in the day. Quite frankly, he wasn't bothered. He was there for one purpose and one purpose alone.
Walking down one of the side streets to the side of the Bannered Mare, he barged into a young man, who transporting a basket of flowers, with his shoulder, causing the man to scatter the flowers around their feet. Crouching down to the ground, the man began frantically collecting the flowers, scowling at Belial, "Watch where you're walking!"
Belial looked down at the young man, his face hidden by his hood and cowl. He asked the man in his mechanical sounding voice, "What is your name?" The question seemed to have no emotion behind it, like the person saying it wasn't alive.
"Sigurd," the man answered, finishing collecting the flowers an standing back up.
"I'm a friend of Caius," Belial informed. "I was told he was here."
Sigurd said, "You mean Commander Caius? As far as I'm aware he's in the guard's barracks near the front entrance."
Belial strided away, leaving Sigurd without a thanks or any form of gratitude, much to his disapproval. A guard who was watching close by approached Belial, clearly displeased by what had taken place. "Are you going to apologise to that man?" the guard sternly stated. Belial simply walked past and down another backstreet, making the guard chase after him. "Stop right there! I was talking to you!"
When the guard came around to the back of the house, Belial grabbed him by the throat, lifting him up. The force he was exerting one the man's windpipe made whatever he attempted to say come out as a low wheeze.
"Put me down," the guard ordered, grasping at Belial's hand. Belial tightened his grip in response. Drawing a dwarven dagger from his side, Belial thrust it into the guard's chest cavity, striking his heart and ending his life. Belial dropped the lifeless corpse onto the ground and then proceeded to strip him of his uniform. He needed a disguise for what he was going to do.
A rather pathetic sounding knock at the door gained Titus's attention. Opening the door, he found Vilkas and Farkas dressed in dark brown suits, looking like two poor puppies who'd lost their mother. Titus erupted in laughter, nearly collapsing to the ground. The sight of the two burly men in high class attire was utterly hilarious.
Vilkas raised his arms in protest and complained, "You have to wear one of these too you know!"
"Yeah, but I won't look like you," Titus chuckled. "You two look like children who've literally been forced into those suits and have decided to walk around all day trying to gain sympathy from adults."
"You're lucky we respect you Titus," Farkas commented. "Otherwise these outfits would be shredded up on the floor by now."
Titus let the brothers inside the small house. Lydia had gone to perform some jobs she wouldn't specify, leaving them alone in the house. Farkas and Vilkas sat around the fire, craving the relaxing warmth. Titus joined them, pulling up a chair and sitting in between them.
"Security seems a lot higher," Vilkas said, reflecting on his past observations. With the Emperor attending, which he and his brother were completely oblivious to, the security had been increased ten fold.
"The Emperor is coming," Titus informed.
Farkas and Vilkas gasped in shock. The news had seemed to hit them like a giant's club. "You mean Titus Mede II?" Vilkas rhetorically asked.
"Gods," Farkas added, "that preacher guy won't be happy."
"Oh, Heimskr," Titus said. "I swear he called me a Thalmor loving bastard under his breath first time I met him just because I'm an Imperial. I hate the Thalmor as much as any Nord."
"So," Farkas muttered, "can we-"
"If it's mead you're talking about brother then no," Vilkas argued. "I'm pretty sure Titus wants to be sober during the ceremony. And I don't want my drunk brother shouting profanities at the top of his voice."
Titus patted his friend on the back, "There'll be a time later in the day where you can get as drunk as you want."
Serana had returned to her room after eating breakfast with Jordis. They'd gone into some pretty in depth topics including what would happen it Titus turned evil. She knew he never would, but it was till amusing talking about it. But if he did, she'd make sure hell would come his way.
The maids would be here soon to begin preparations. She was dreading the young women coming and attempting to put who knows what on her face and tightening her dress so tight she had to work hard to draw in every breath.
A hand on her shoulder made Serana turn around to find Valerica standing behind her.
"Second time in a month," Serana said. "You really must be jolly."
"It's your wedding day," Valerica replied. "Why wouldn't I be here?"
"I wasn't really expecting the first visit, let alone the second," Serana sighed.
Wrapping her arms around her daughter, Valerica stated, "I'm always here for you."
"I find that somehow hard to believe," Serana thought to herself. She seriously doubted her mother'sc omment after the traumatic experiences she had been through. Maybe when her family were still together those words would have been believable. But they really weren't after everything that had happened. She considered one person to be always there for her. And that person was Titus, the man she loved.
Valerica moved a chair in front of her daughter, who sat on the bed and put herself on it. "Can you answer my question now?" Valerica asked.
"What question?"
"How will you make this work between you and Titus?"
Serana slowly licked her lips, resting her elbows on her thighs, "In anyway that it can." Serana blew out a deep breath, "Even if it means curing myself."
Valerica's eyebrows furrowed, "Really. After so long?"
"If it means it'll work."
Belial, now dressed in his stolen guards uniform, entered the guard's barracks. A lone guard sat a chair by the door, slowly munching on a piece of bread. Belial swiftly killed him by covering his mouth to muffle his screams and burying a dagger into his throat. Leaving the evidence for all to see, he marched into the room where Caius resided. He was currently scribbling away at a piece of paper, moving quickly from line to line. He moved his attention to Belial, "What do you want?"
Belial leaped across the fine crafted desk, pinning Caius up against the wall with his hand firmly across his mouth and his dagger pressed on his throat, drawing a slight amount of blood. "Now," Belial sadistically commanded, "listen to me very carefully."
Personal Comments:
Hope you enjoyed that guys. I'm really not sure how many chapters to go until the big event. I know what I want to happen but it's just the case of how to fit it in. That and I do like cliffhangers (mine will never be as good as The Italian Job but I try my best). Also, updates might slow down slightly. The reasons are:
1. I'm planning on doing a Pacific Rim fic. If you enjoyed the film, make sure to look out for it.
2. The top football leagues are/have started up again. I do love my Premier League, Bundesliga, Serie A, La Liga and Ligue 1. I don't know how many of you are actually into football so you may not understand what I'm saying.
Anyway, I'll make sure you get regular chapters whenever I can. I wouldn't just leave this fic hanging like that. And finally, please leave a little review. It's not much of your time and they are fun to read. Kwaheri (that means goodbye in Swahili).
Characters:
Commander Caius: Commander of the guard in Whiterun. Pointless apart from one Thieves Guild quest.
Sigurd: A young man who works at with Belethor at his shop.
