Author's Note: Hello everyone! A big thanks to everyone who has read/fav/followed/reviewed my fic thus far! Here's chapter 36. Hope you guys enjoy!
Chapter 36: Crossing Paths
"Well, I guess this is it..." Nazir's voice broke the silence, the uncertainty of it ringing in Vottur's ears. He stopped in his tracks, watching the Redguard lead Shadowmere into the edge of the forest as a quick means of escape, if need be. As Nazir finished the task at hand, the two headed toward the ancient watchtower that happened to be Lielle's former hideaway.
"This is a good spot, Nazir. We'll be able to see a great distance. If something goes wrong, you'll have plenty of time to alert the others." Vottur said, now atop the old tower, gazing across the landscape. This was it. They had travelled to meet fate, whatever that may bring. He couldn't help but feel uneasy concerning Ulfric. The man appeared both bold and convicted, yet only time would tell if he remained true to his word. Of course, time was swiftly running out.
"I guess something good came from finding out one of our own was the enemy." Nazir grunted, a distant look falling over his face as he gazed over the darkening horizon.
Vottur had never witnessed Nazir behave so distressed and solemnly before. There seemed to be a complete lack of the Redguard's usual sarcasm, and he seemed much less talkative than Vottur was used to. Vottur could sense that Nazir had been deeply affected by the outcome of his decision to allow Lielle into the Dark Brotherhood. He remembered a time when he didn't care at all for the Redguard in his early days as an initiate. Vottur didn't care for much of anyone for that matter, save Ava. Of course, with time he'd formed lasting relationships with his companions. Vottur didn't enjoy seeing any of them in such a state of mind, and Nazir was no exception.
"She will pay for her wrongdoing, Nazir." Vottur commented, hoping to get the point across that it was Lielle who was ultimately at fault, not Nazir.
"She may pay for her actions in the near future, but I'm the one who's paying for them now." Nazir remarked, obviously not influenced by Vottur's attempt. "You know, I've done some pretty vile things in my lifetime. Hammerfell may have been my home, but with it dwelled my past deeds - - none of which I'm particularly proud of. For Sithis' sake, I slaughtered my own father on those crystal sands..." he recalled, his brow furrowed and his face lined with traces of inner pain. He leaned his arm on the outer wall of the stone monument, sighing. "I'll never forget what a deep shade of crimson his blood was as it hit the hot white sand. In the end, I really don't regret the deed. I had means to justify myself. The man was an evil bastard. If there is one thing I do regret, it's letting that woman set one foot inside those Sanctuary walls."
Normally, Vottur was a man of few words. Situations like this, however, turned him into a man of complete silence. He realized this matter had truly shaken the Redguard. Seeing Nazir speak like this, which was indeed a rare moment, left the Nord at a complete loss for words. He simply did the only thing he felt capable of at the moment - - he listened.
"I know it seems insane that I'm telling you this, but the Brotherhood gave me a new life. It's not a particularly glamorous one, but I get to do what I enjoy and I have a family that will accept me as the killer I chose to be. The Brotherhood means a lot to me..." Nazir's gaze turned to meet Vottur's dark eyes. "You know, my vows may not be honorable like those of great warriors and heroes, but by Sithis' they are just as important and convicting! I vowed to honor our dark family, and what did I do? I let an enemy step her slimy foot right into our midst. I put us at risk, and right in the throws of all this bloody conflict!" he growled between clinched teeth, now glaring off into the distance.
Vottur sighed, frustrated with his own loss for words. Nazir was clearly at an impasse with his inner turmoil. Vottur realized Nazir needed some form of consolation from his dark family, no matter how incompetent he may have felt about being the one to console him. Vottur breathed in deeply, approaching Nazir and placing a hand on his shoulder.
"Brother..." he spoke, grabbing the Redguard's gaze from the darkening distance. "While those things may have happened, and while you may feel at fault for them, you are still one of us. We need your devotion now, dear brother. I, for one, know that you will not fail us. You will help pave our way to greatness."
Nazir sighed, straightening himself. "I know you're right...and so was Babette...I guess it's time I start believing it myself. It's just that I've spent all these years priding myself on my ability to think on my feet." he chuckled, his mood genuinely lightening. "I guess I'm not used to being outsmarted. If you didn't notice, I don't take it very well."
"You weren't outsmarted Nazir. You were betrayed." Vottur continued. "Are we not supposed to trust our dark family? If trust makes a man a fool, then I'm no better. Now, let me be the first foolish man here. What say you, brother? Are you ready to take down a Legion in the name of our Dread Father?" he grinned, feeling their bond tighten as the two spoke. Vottur extended his large, calloused hand to Nazir, who donned an equally wicked smile.
Nazir laughed, firmly shaking his hand and sealing the pact between dark brothers. "Yes, brother! May the Legion wish for a quick death when they see the grueling torment the Black Hand will deal upon them!"
He laughed along with the Redguard, feeling the anticipation of battle begin to rush through his veins. His dark eyes turned to meet the horizon, taking in the moment as darkness trickled in. Off in the distance, a faint light caught his eye.
Nazir, apparently taking notice as well, met eyes with Vottur as the two grew silent and still. Vottur could see a banner held high as a large troop marched in unison, a large part of them trotting along on horseback. The emblem on the red banner was that of the Empire. The Legion was approaching at dusk, and Vottur could feel the pulse of fury, dread, and adrenaline pour over him.
The two assassins hunkered down on the watchtower, hiding their silhouettes from the approaching army. "I guess this really is it, then." Nazir remarked, clearly feeling unnerved by the sight before him. "I just hope Ulfric stays true to his word."
Vottur silently watched as the massive army marched ever closer in their direction. His eyes scanned the landscape, hoping for the moment when Ulfric and his men would intercept the oncoming attack to his home and family. The Legion had arrived much earlier than he'd expected, leaving him deeply fearful, despite his often hardened demeanor. Then, his doubts began to creep in.
What if Ulfric was simply lying? What if he'd changed his mind? What if he did stay true to his word, only to arrive too late? Vottur breathed in deep, trying to steady his racing thoughts and focus on the present. He had to remember what Ava had told him - - that she would set the changes in motion, and he would lead them to greatness. The Night Mother herself had spoken of these matters, so he had to put his trust in her divine words.
"By Sithis, Ulfric better hurry!" Nazir hissed under his breath. "These Imperial bastards are quick...too quick..."
"He'll come, Nazir..." Vottur whispered, scanning the impending doom that grew with every dreadful step. He could only watch, and wait, and hope. The landscape remained dominated by the massive Legion, and not a trace of Ulfric's men was to be found.
"I'm not just going to say nothing while you treat me like an ANIMAL! You're disgusting! You're ALL DISGUSTING!" Lielle screeched, writhing in her chains as Babette stood before her holding a small bowl of water.
Babette smirked, feeling immense satisfaction from seeing the treacherous wench in so much turmoil. "Now, now, dear. If you talk to me that way, you can just go without water. I've never experienced it personally, but I do hear that dying of thirst can be a bit of a pain, really. I know I simply can't go without something to quench my thirst, though it's not water that I'm particularly fond of..." she grinned wickedly, watching Lielle's eyes blaze with bitterness.
The girl simply said nothing as she glared at Babette, meaning she did realize she'd be in for a long and slow death if she didn't listen to Babette's warning. Maybe the daft harlot did have a fraction of a brain, after all. Babette calmly walked up to her, tilting the bowl up to the mage's lips and allowing her to drink its contents.
"See? That wasn't so bad, now was it?" Babette cooed, her voice sugary sweet and dripping with false kindness. Babette knew that catching the little skeever would be enjoyable, but even she didn't realize just how pleasant it would be to hold Lielle's life in her tiny hands. She loved the fact that if the mage refused to obey her wishes, she'd surely die. It was rather nice to have absolute power, Babette mused.
"Hmmmm...What have we HERE?!" Babette turned to see Cicero's face peering into the prison chamber, wide-eyed and full of morbid curiousity.
"Ugh, Cicero...Can't you see I'm a bit tied up at the moment?" Babette huffed, turning to the seething mage. "Well, not literally, like our little darling here...I am rather busy, though."
"Why is the Strumpet in chains, Un-child?" Cicero asked, completely ignoring her attempts to shoo him away.
"Let's just say she has a big mouth." Babette's eyes narrowed, as she returned an accusing gaze to the mage. "Now, what do you want?"
"Hehehe...OH, Cicero just HAD to see what all the FUSS was about! Hehehe! Oh, so much NOISE! So very much SCREAMING!" The jester bounded over to Lielle, now only inches from her face.
"YOU! GET AWAY FROM ME YOU SICK FREAK! I DON'T WANNA LOOK AT YOUR PATHETIC FACE!" she screamed, nearly foaming at the mouth from the sight of him. Though Babette didn't like her fun being interrupted by the jester, seeing Lielle's reaction to him made her feel absolutely giddy.
"Now play nice, dear. He was one of your lovers, after all." Babette smirked, antagonizing the girl and hoping to provoke an equally enjoyable reaction the next time around.
With that comment, the woman burst out in a fit of spiteful laughter. "HAHAHA! PLEASE! I made it all up to burst Ava's bubble...I wouldn't so much as touch that slimy little son of a bitch!" she scoffed. So Cicero had been telling the truth, after all.
The jester's face twisted into a scowl. "Not what you said when you were down on your knees unbuckling Cicero's belt, hmmmn?"
"By Sithis, you really are a desperate thing..." Babette shook her head.
"HEHEHE! Desperate, INDEED!" Cicero jumped about, clapping his hands and beginning to chime foolishly. "Tried to play a little tune on Cicero's FLUTE, she did! HooHoo! Had to threaten her with his BLADE to make her stop! Who knew she wanted him so BADLY, that the threat of DEATH would be the only way to cease her advances!"
"GET AWAY FROM ME! I HATE YOU BOTH, YOU TWISTED PARASITES!" Lielle growled. "AS FAR AS YOU..." she spat at the jester, who merely grinned at her. "I'LL GET THE LAST LAUGH, YOU INSANE MANIAC! YOU JUST WAIT AND SEE!"
"Hehehe! Ah, the Strumpet is QUITE entertaining! AH, but as much as Cicero would LOVE to stay and prod her nasty brain, he has his duties to attend to..." the jester said, much to Babette's relief. Cicero pattered to the doorway, briefly turning to the mage. "Isn't WISE of you to PROVOKE poor, humble Cicero. One RARELY gets the last laugh when in competition with LAUGHTER INCARNATE! HEHE! But do not worry, dear Harlot, Cicero will be BACK!" the jester chuckled merrily, exiting the prison as his laughter chimed though the dark hallway.
"Well, how lovely!" Babette beamed. "You haven't been here a full day, and you already had your first visitor! You are quite the popular one!"
"IF I EVER GET OUT OF HERE, I SWEAR I'LL LIGHT YOU ON FIRE FROM THE INSIDE OUT!" Lielle burst out in another hot fit of rage, jerking her arms and thrashing against her cuffs.
"Wishful thinking, dear." Babette spoke, a wicked grin creeping across her lips.
Ava pulled her robe closely about her freezing body, attempting to shield herself from the bitter cold as she trudged along in an ocean of freezing white. With every shaky step, she could feel her heart beat faster by the moment. Ava knew that the end was near, and despite the Night Mother's comforting words, she felt more fearful than ever.
The harsh arctic wind pierced her flesh, making her shudder even as the wintry storm had calmed for the moment. The sky above was showing the deep grey of winter and dusk, and Ava found herself constantly reminded of time - - and time was surely running out.
Still a few miles from the Sanctuary, Ava could see the vast grey sea in the distance, growing closer with every step. Suddenly, her eyes caught sight of a small campsite by the waters. She stopped, holding her breath and straining her vision to catch sight of who was resting in such an unsavory place.
Seeing nobody, she swiftly approached the shelter, hoping for a place to briefly warm up before her numb body worked its way closer to the Sanctuary. She approached the small pile of glowing embers where a fire used to be, quickly hovering her hands over it to seek warmth.
Her hands now a bit warmer and less numb from the harsh cold, she quickly darted into the tattered tent as the rumblings of another wintry storm echoed throughout her surroundings. Upon entering, she immediately spotted a pile of welcoming animal pelts on the floor, grabbing them for added warmth. With only a black robe overtop her shrouded armor, she needed all the extra layers she could get.
Sighing from relief as her body warmed under the blankets of warm fur she'd draped over her, Ava allowed her eyes to wander about the inside of the seemingly abandoned tent. Empty bottles of mead and ale lay discarded in a corner, while empty knapsacks and satchels littered another. However, Ava's eyes grew wide with panic as they moved across another object.
It was a sword. The sword was black with a vile, glowing hue of green. The blade was razor-sharp and deadly, writhing with dark, serpent-like tentacles. Somehow, just laying eyes on this mysterious weapon sent a shudder up Ava's spine.
Take it...
Obeying the command within her, she nervously clutched the hilt of the dangerous blade. It felt warm to the touch, and Ava could have sworn she felt a pulsing heartbeat flowing into her palm from the mysterious sword. Hearing movement outside, she quickly secured the blade under her robes, appearing defenseless as she stepped out into the open to investigate the sound.
She could hear footsteps off in the distance. She stepped out a few feet, heart pounding from the uncertainty of it all. As the wind had picked up, carrying gusts of white, her field of vision became less accurate. Moving out further, she caught sight of a figure approaching in the white whirlwind. Given the circumstances, she knew this could very well be the one person fate set in her path.
The figure moved closer. Now close enough that she could make him out, Ava saw that he was a large, muscle-bound Nord. The armor he was wearing was something she'd never witnessed before. It seemed to be made from large, jagged, powerful bones. A dragon's bones. It had to be.
Ava's blood froze, as her eyes fixated on the deadly being walking in her direction. Suddenly, the man uttered some words - - words Ava had never heard of before. A blast came from his lips, stopping the furious wind within their immediate area. He seemed to be speaking in the legendary tongue of the dragons - - something she'd only witnessed in tales of heroes and legends.
This was him. He was the legendary Haldor the Lawless - - the Dragonborn himself. This large, intimidating, brutish warrior would be the death of her. Feeling the immediate urge to flee for her life, Ava stood silent. She tensed, fighting her flight response and waiting to face him. The man approached her, carrying the body of a dead stag over his right shoulder. Apparently, he'd gone out to hunt and Ava had entered his camp by accident. Or was it really an accident, after all? Ava reasoned that it wasn't. It was her destiny.
The Nord, now only a few feet away, stopped in his tracks, locking his steely blue eyes with hers. He dropped his kill, crossing his massive arms and staring her down. "What are you doing out here in this freezing weather? What are you, crazy?"
Did he not recognize her, or was he merely playing games? Ava knew he was expecting her. Perhaps he thought she'd be in the actual Dawnstar Sanctuary, mistaking her for a lost wanderer. Ava's mind raced, thinking of how easy it would be to lie and get away from him. As tempting as it sounded, it would be cowardly not to meet her fate. The sole livelihood of the Dark Brotherhood, of all her beloved siblings, and most of all, her Keeper rested in her actions. She wouldn't run. Ava had spent most of her life running - - running from her past, running from human contact, running from intimacy. There was no more time for running. Previously, Ava had been baffled by the fact that she hadn't fell apart after hearing the Night Mother's words of her inevitable demise. Now, she seemed to finally understand why. This was her moment. After her parents' death, she'd lived a life of fear and self-loathing. She had lived a life of avoidance and cowardice, even to her own detriment. Strangely, much like how the Dark Brotherhood had given her purpose, the news of her impending doom had given her strength. This was her chance to be brave - - to fully embrace her true self. Somehow, as twisted as it seemed, Ava felt this was her chance for redemption. If her whole life had been about running, this moment would be about facing it all - - her fear, her sadness, her demise. Feeling a surge of boldness burn inside of her, she felt the urge to reveal herself.
Ava took a deep breath, pulling her hood down to reveal her face and long, dark hair. The man simply gave her a wary look, studying her every move. "Are you Haldor?" she asked bravely, standing merely feet away from her demise. Asking was all she knew to do, as she was terrified to make any sudden movements.
Good my child...Just listen to my words...
"You..." Haldor growled under his breath, quickly realizing who she was. Whoever had conspired with this man, must have given him a rundown of her appearance. He acted as if he'd seen her countless times, face to face.
Hearing the aggression in his voice, Ava took a couple of leary steps back.
"I know who you are. You're even weaker looking then I imagined. Look, you don't stand a chance against me." he grinned arrogantly, his voice low and gravelly. "So what will it be? Would you rather I kill you quick and save you the trouble, or do you want to do this the hard way?"
A deep roar filled Ava's mind, rumbling like thunder. The ground beneath her seemed to quake, as the ice filled her up. The world grew dark, cold, and lifeless. Inner fear suddenly flipped to pure adrenaline and euphoria. It was as if she'd been possessed by a wicked, wild beast waiting to pounce on its prey.
Though the two were completely alone, Ava felt as if all of creation were watching this moment with bated breath. Maybe they were watching, from somewhere deep, distant, and unknown. As if in an instant, she could feel her whole life flash before her eyes: her father and mother, her dark family, her Keeper, and lastly, this moment. This very moment. She would not die in vain. Haldor would be her final target...
Now on the bottom floor of the ancient watchtower, Vottur peered through a dusty window, catching a glimpse of Maro himself as the troops marched by. He sat purched upon a white stallion, with Tullius sitting atop a matching steed by his side. He turned to the General, smirking. "You won't regret this, General. As a matter of fact, you'll thank me once we light this Sanctuary ablaze. Why, the Dark Brotherhood will be so weak that we'll simply be able to walk in and slaughter the remainder in Dawnstar. Oh, that reminds me...I figure we should make sure to keep at least one of them alive for a bit. We do need the other pass phrase, after all..."
Nazir, watching from another window, turned to Vottur. "Violet was right. Maro really is a son of a bitch." he snorted, clearly not amused by the Commander's comments.
Vottur sighed, feeling tense from not seeing Ulfric. He watched as the General turned to Maro, a sharp look painted across his war-hardened features. "While I commend your enthusiasm, Commander, I still question why I have seen hide nor hair of our Dragonborn." The General glared at Maro, obviously not happy with the no-show. "Why is this, Commander? We had a deal."
Maro fidgeted a bit, appearing uncomfortable. "Well, yes we do, General Tullius. And if you remember correctly, we agreed that he is our ally, not ours to order around." he retorted, now smirking from having the upper-hand in the debate. "You were well aware of his tendencies to follow by his own rules, General. I question why you appear surprised by this at all..."
The General sighed, looking defeated in the conversation. "I suppose you do have a point. I guess even an elite officer has the human tendency to doubt, Commander." Tullius answered sincerely. Vottur could easily see that the General was, in a way, as much a victim in this scheme as they. Somehow, Maro had found Tullius' weakness. That weakness being the desperation of holding the Empire together in its fragile state and not allowing Ulfric to crush its remains. Of course, both were the enemy, and Vottur was well aware of this. He was only reminded of what Violet had told him - - Maro would pull any string possible to get his way.
"Do not worry, Tullius. He will come - - and when he does, the Dark Brotherhood will fall." Maro grinned arrogantly, as he marched out of Vottur's view, passing the tower.
Nazir turned sharply to Vottur as Maro's words fell upon his ears. "Damn it! Why is Ulfric not here?!" he hissed under his breath, sounding both angry and fearful.
Vottur, too, began to panic. Even though the Legion was still a few hours from the Sanctuary itself, that was just the problem. It was only a few hours. Ulfric seemed to be running late, if he was coming at all. How could he and his troops possibly gain a lead on the Legion and set up their plan of attack on time? Being primarily stationed in Windhelm, they had nearly as much distance to cover as the Empire.
"I...don't know..." Vottur swallowed hard, feeling a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach.
A loud rumble began to fill Vottur's ears, as the ground seemed to quake under the two assassins. Nazir's eyes locked with his, wide and full of shock from what he was hearing. Loud war cries and screams filled the air, as the ground thudded with heavy boots and thundering hoof beats. Vottur instinctively scrambled to the top of the tower, with Nazir following quickly at his heels. The sound of screams and grating steel against steel alerted him to spy from the top.
"By Sithis...Ulfric, you son of a bitch..." Nazir grinned widely, his eyes wide and fixated on the chaos beneath them. "He made it. He actually made it!"