A Doom Driven Hero: Chapter 36 – Till Death do we part.

"Marcus!" Jordis called out across the house. "There's a courier here for you!"

The young man groaned, and rolled over in bed. Blood tenacious couriers… they'd track me to the ends of Nirn…

He'd stumbled into Proudspire Manor at around midnight, and was hoping to sleep in somewhat, to get some decent rest. He seemed to have fewer and fewer opportunities for that these days, but it seemed that wasn't to be the case.

Marcus swung his legs out over his bed, and grabbed a shirt off a table. He made his way down the stairs carefully, slipping it on. His body protested as he began moving, but he shrugged it off.

Down in the entrance/living area, Jordis stood next to a courier. She wore basic clothes, with her sword at her side. Marcus walked barefoot into the room, and up to the courier.

"Got something I'm supposed to deliver," the courier began. "Your eye-"

"Yeah yeah," Marcus interrupted. "My eyes only, I know. Hand it over."

The courier procured a letter, before nodding curtly and walking out. Marcus yawned, and slowly opened the letter. He walked over to a chair and sat down, scanning the contents. Jordis sat opposite him, looking at him intently with a hint of a smile on her face.

Marcus frowned. "It's an invitation."

"To what?" Jordis asked.

"Vittoria Vici's wedding." Marcus looked up from the paper. "Why the hell am I being invited?"

"You're a thane, Marcus. Plus, you saved the world. I think that qualifies."

"Hmmm…" Marcus chewed his lip, reading the rest of the letter. "It says at the end I can bring an 'entourage'. What's that?"

Jordis explained, "It's a group of people that typically follow around people of importance. Servants, bodyguards, close friends..." she brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, and shifted forward in her seat. "And housecarls..."

"I see..." Marcus thought for a moment. "So, I can bring along the people that often follow me around, and general friends?"

"Yes." Jordis nodded.

"That sounds like it could grow to be quite a lot of people."

"Well, the entourages of the important members can be big."

"I see..." Marcus nodded slowly. "Well, I'll send some letters out. If I do decide to head along, I'll see if some others can make it too. You're welcome to come, of course, if I decide it's worth my while."

Jordis smiled happily. "Thank you. I think you should go. It'll be a nice break, I believe."

"Hmm… Well, we shall see. I'm not the kind to go to every type of social occasion that happens in this province, Jordis. I have quite a few things on my mind."

"Oh, and Marcus?" Jordis looked a bit tentative, as if debating whether or not to say something.

"Hmm?"

"...Your shirt's on backwards."

Marcus looked down. She was correct. A tinge of red touched Marcus' cheeks, and he nodded acceptingly. Rather than go up to his room however, Marcus stood up and walked a few paces away, before lifting the shirt overhead and correcting its direction.

Jordis, after a moment of teenage-ish excitement upon seeing what Marcus was about to do, was slapped in the face with a truly worrying sight. His chest, while being muscular and battle-toned, was covered in an ugly mess of scars and physical memoirs of his battles. Every time a Dragon, Draugr, or other monstrosity got past his defenses had left a mark, and many of them had clearly not faded.

There was a long white line stretching from his neck down to his sternum, a cup-sized burn mark on his left shoulder, a trio of obvious, semi-faded claw marks down his back and around his hip, along with a variety of jagged lines sprinkled all over his ribs and pectorals. There was two large, almost identical blade marks down behind one of his shoulderblades, too. It was harrowing for Jordis to see, especially considering her role as his protector.

Then Marcus slipped the shirt back on, and everything was obscured. He was back to the simple, perfectly fine man with a couple faint facial scars.

The next three weeks passed uneventfully. Or at least, nothing out of the ordinary happened for Marcus, which is to say, lots of 'manageable' out of the ordinary events happened. He spent around two days of those three weeks at Solitude, in Proudspire Manor.

The day of the wedding arrived. Most of the courtyard outside Castle Dour had been converted into a large celebratory area, where the reception would take place. There were a collection of small tables, but very little seating areas, indicating that most of the guests would be encouraged to interact with each other, rather than sitting in one place all night. The wedding itself would take place in the Temple of the Divines and the space immediately outside it.

Guests began to arrive at around 3pm. Most were there by 4pm. At this time, Marcus was still in Proudspire Manor, trying to get himself out of a sticky situation.

"Stop squriming," Jordis scolded Marcus, as she tried to adjust his collar.

"This outfit sucks," Marcus complained. "Can't I just wear my regular clothes?"

"Marcus, your 'regular clothes' is a set of armour."

Marcus frowned, and fidgeted a little. "It itches like crazy, and there's weird lumps on the inside. I thought these sorts of clothes were meant to be comfortable."

Jordis sighed. "They're meant to make you look good, and it works."

"It makes me look like a bird dunked in a container of multi-coloured paint."

"You look fine, Marcus. Rather dashing, really."

He sighed, "Are you done? The others are bound to be there by now."

"Fine," Jordis said reluctantly. "Let's go."

"Marcus!" Argis laughed. "Finally, he's here! Took you long enough."

Marcus smiled at the beefy Nord, and grasped his hand firmly. "Getting this outfit on was a pain in the ass. Didn't miss anything, did I?"

"No, not yet anyway. The ceremony's about to begin, so we're one step closer to the drinking."

Marcus rolled his eyes. "Of course. I knew their had to be another reason why you wanted to come along so badly."

The older man grinned, before his face turned a token more serious. "I have to ask though, I wouldn't have thought you'd show up. Sure, getting the whole gang together was a nice touch, but these days you seem so busy I thought you wouldn't bother."

Marcus nodded, and rubbed his cheek. "Normally I wouldn't have come, no. I'm generally not one for events like this, but then I read between the lines of the wedding, a bit."

Argis frowned. "What do you mean?"

"The groom and the bride," Marcus explained. "They're both from families that had strong ties to each side of the civil war. The Snow-shods supported Ulfric valiantly, and the Vici family have deep roots in the Empire."

"Ah..." Argis nodded, understanding. "I see."

Marcus nodded, "Anyone who wants to get the Civil War kick-started again would have a stake in ensuring this wedding goes south. I want to make sure that doesn't happen."

Argis smiled. "As good a reason as any, I guess. Cause you wouldn't have come to this event for some much-needed R&R, would you?"

"Me? Are you kidding? I expend less effort killing someone than talking to them."

Argis laughed, and went to walk away to speak to some others, but stopped a moment later. "Oh, by the way, Borgahk is raising a few eyebrows around here. You may want to introduce her to some of the more important people before she gets turfed out."

Marcus sighed, shaking his head sadly. "Yeah, I'll get on that."

He looked around for the orcish warrior, and found her easy enough. She stood around 20 centimetres taller than everyone else, and closer to a foot taller for some. As Marcus approached, he could see several of the other nobles and guests frowning in her direction. He felt a token of frustration at this.

"Borgahk," Marcus said as he got close. "I need you to come with me."

The tall orcish woman turned to see him, and a plaintive smile graced her face upon seeing his. "Marcus. I've been looking for you. I'm… a little unsure as to what I should be doing. Some people have made some confusing remarks to me, as well."

"Yeah, I gathered." Marcus rolled his eyes, and grabbed her gently by the arm. "Come on. I probably should've done this with you as soon as you arrived, but I got caught up with this stupid outfit, and -"

"Outfit?" Borgahk stopped for a moment and looked Marcus up and down. "Hmm… A tad colourful for my taste, but I think you make it look good."

"Well, that makes one of us." Marcus said tiredly, before grabbing her and walking onward again.

A minute later, Marcus walked up to General Tullius, who was conversing with Captain Aldis.

"Oh, Dragonborn." The General looked mildly surprised at seeing Marcus, but not displeased. "I wasn't aware you were invited. This is fortuitous though, I've been meaning to speak to you about the status of the Civil War ceasef-"

"Save it," Marcus waved a dismissive hand in front of Tullius. "I don't care for the war, and as far as I'm concerned, the ceasefire should last forever."

Marcus turned to Captain Aldis, not giving the General any time to retort. "Captain, I would like to introduce a close friend and traveling companion of mine, Borgahk Steel-heart."

Captain Aldis looked the orcish woman up and down, and stuck out his hand in a relatively friendly manner. A little unsure of herself, Borgahk shook it.

"She's part of my entourage," Marcus explained, "So I'd appreciate it if you didn't have her removed."

"Understood." Aldis nodded. "Unusual choice for someone to bring, but I'm not one to judge. I'll let my men know."

The Captain walked off, heading towards the many armed guards near the area. Marcus nodded to Borgahk. "Go on and have fun. Try not to crack any heads together."

"Heh… I'll try."

She gave him a smile, and walked off. General Tullius watched her go, then frowned at Marcus.

He said, "Bringing an orc to a high-class Imperial wedding? That's… not very wise."

Marcus crossed his arms over his chest. "She expressed an interest in the event, and said she wanted to come. I couldn't think of a good reason to deny her. What of it?"

"It's just..." Tullius' frown deepened. "She might cause trouble."

"She's part of my delegation," Marcus said in a reasonably accurate version of the General's voice, "You can't dictate who I bring to this council."

The General looked a little stunned, then remembered his words at the summit at High Hrothgar.

"I bring who I want," Marcus said. "I don't care if you, or any other of these pretentious, preening idiots don't like it."

"Watch your tone, young man." Tullius bristled. "You're not talking to your housecarls."

"Of course not, I treat my housecarls with respect."

The General looked borderline furious at this, but Marcus didn't give him a chance to respond. He simply turned and walked away. He looked around, trying to figure out what he should do. He wasn't entirely sure when the wedding was supposed to start, but he guessed it would be soon.

A hand tugged on Marcus' arm. He turned, and saw another familiar face.

"Illia?" Marcus said, surprised at seeing the young woman's face underneath the orange hood that Mara priestesses wore. "What're you doing here?"

"Is that anyway to greet an old friend after several months?" she asked, smiling, before proceeding to wrap her arms around his torso in a hug. Marcus returned it a moment later.

Illia continued, "And to answer your question, I'm here to conduct the wedding."

"Wait, you're going to be the one to marry Vittoria and Asgeir?"

"Surprised?" Illia giggled. "I guess I've impressed the Maramal well enough, if he's put me in charge of this."

"Clearly. Shouldn't you be off preparing?"

She shrugged, "I wasn't the only one sent up here, I've got some time. The ceremony won't start for a short while anyway."

"Ok."

They found a small bench and sat down, watching people go past. Many of them wore so many colours it looked like they'd visited Sheogorath's tailor.

"You look nice." Illia said suddenly.

"You think?" Marcus looked down at his outfit doubtfully. "It wasn't my first choice."

"Of course not, your first choice was probably armour."

Marcus didn't answer that, his silence affirming her statement well enough anyway.

After a minute, Illia spoke up again. "I'm surprised to see you here, though. You seem to be busy all the time, these days. I only ever hear about you visiting Riften after you've already left."

"Yeah..." Marcus mumbled. "It's… There's a lot out there for me to do, it seems. The more I do, the more I realize I have yet to do."

Illia looked sideways at him, concern touching her young face. Marcus didn't notice though, as much of the woman's head was obscured by a hood.

"Then we get word from travelers about you," Illia continued. "Skeletal remains of Dragons by the side of a road, entire forts wiped out… bandit activity has plummeted around Riften alone. Now, I can assume some of this is due to the ceasefire freeing up soldiers, but most of it matches your methods more than anything."

"I do what I do," Marcus said plainly. "You know this. You've witnessed much of it first-hand. What are you saying?"

Illia smiled. "Well, it leads me to believe you wouldn't have come here for a simple 'retreat'. You obviously consider this wedding as an event of importance regarding Skyrim's safety."

Marcus went silent.

"Now, considering the political relations of the bride and groom, I think it's safe to say you want to ensure nothing bad happens, to extend and perhaps make permanent the ceasefire in Skyrim. A wedding to help link the two halves of Skyrim once more, you could say."

Marcus didn't say anything for a moment. Illia looked at him expectantly.

Eventually, he chuckled. "You know… you really would've been a good addition to the College."

Illia laughed, her hood slipping down as her head tilted up. She looked more mature. More like a confident woman, having grown as a person in the last year since Marcus had found her.

Marcus coughed quietly, looking down at the ground. "Yeah… I won't lie. I didn't necessarily come here to enjoy the event, but rather to see if it all went smoothly."

Illia sighed. "One of these days, you should take a day off just for the sake of it."

Marcus shrugged. "If I need to, I will."

He stood up, and nodded politely to her. "Well, I better get going. You should probably best get prepared for the ceremony too. Take care, try not to get stage fright."

Illia rolled her eyes at him, before standing up and walking off. Marcus looked around, and noticed most of the people were filing inside the temple. The actual wedding was about to begin, it seemed.

Marcus met up with his housecarls, then blended into the crowd as he walked in.

The ceremony itself was dull. Very dull, in Marcus' opinion. He'd never been to a serious Imperial wedding, so he wasn't sure what to expect. It ended up dragging on for an hour longer than it needed to, with various prayers and the like from a priest of every divine. Except Talos.

After it was over, most of everyone filed out into the area directly outside the Temple of the Divines, where a bunch of pews were set up in front of two chairs, underneath a large balcony. Then the speeches began. With the individual's giving the speeches going up to the balcony and talking down at the crowd.

There were dozens. Family members, political people of importance, Jarls, Nobles from Cyrodiil, close friends of the families… practically every man and his dog got to put their own few words in.

Marcus happened to be sitting next to Erik, who'd jumped at the opportunity to go to another wedding, having done his own only two months ago.

"This is stupid," Marcus said quietly to him, gesturing subtly with his hand to the current speech-giver, and old Imperial noble. "How many of the people here actually care what he has to say?"

"I dunno. No-one else looks as bored as you though, so I reckon it'll be a few."

Marcus sighed, slumping down in his seat. "I preferred your wedding."

"My wedding went for 30 minutes, tops."

"Exactly," Marcus exclaimed in a quiet voice. "It was short and to-the-point. It lasted long enough to matter to the people it needed to, and that was that. There was no… 'fluff' like there is here."

"Hey," Lydia leaned across and whispered to them in an annoyed tone. "Quiet down, you'll create a scene."

Marcus grumbled something incoherent, but shut up for the moment. After another unnecessarily long amount of time, the speeches were over, and the actual fun part started. The party.

Everyone walked out into the courtyard, where Aldis often trained his men, and began milling about. They drank from wine glasses, and generally did all the talking that they couldn't do while the ceremony was happening.

Marcus walked out, and tried to find something to drink that wasn't strong enough to get him wrapped up in a convoluted quest to track down a Daedra lord. His housecarls and friends had gathered themselves into groups toward the edges of the courtyard.

Marcus grabbed himself a goblet of spiced wine, and met up with Erik, Argis, and Marcurio.

"Nice party you got yourself invited to," Marcurio said, drinking from a tankard. "This is more the sort of thing I was hoping for when I paired up with the 'Legendary Dragonborn'."

Marcus smirked. "Well, I'm glad you approve, Marcurio. I guess I owed you all something."

"Hey," Erik protested. "You don't owe us anything, we're happy to-"

Marcurio interrupted, "Don't listen to him. If you ever get any more invites, just throw them my way."

Argis rolled his eyes. "You're a merc through-and-through, aren't you?"

"What'd you expect?"

Marcus chuckled, and sipped from his goblet. They chatted a little bit more, about general things happening around the province. Most Holds were reporting dramatic decreases in bandit, dragon, and rogue mage activity. There was an unspoken glance at Marcus during this, before the conversation shifted away.

"So, Argis," Marcurio began. "When are you going to be hanging up the old suit of armour? Settling down and swapping your sword for a wedding ring like Asgeir?"

Argis shrugged. "Meh. Don't know, don't really care. Haven't met the right person, but I guess I've got plenty of time."

"What about you Marcus? Has this event got you thinking of settling down with a wife and kids?"

Marcus raised an eyebrow at the mercenary. "Marcurio, you know damn well I'll sooner be dead than create a family."

"Oh, come on." Marcurio prodded Marcus in the ribs. "Surely there's a longing for love in that dragon heart of yours..."

Marcus prodded Marcurio back, twice as hard. "If this is some stupid attempt to get me to mope about how I've such a miserable and lonely life, in order to gain more verbal ammunition for a later date, it isn't working."

Marcurio clicked his tongue. "Dammit… knew I should've waited till you got drunk."

Marcus sighed. "Come on, normally at events like this you spend all your time gossiping about the bride and groom. Let's do that instead."

Erik shrugged. "I don't really know anything about the bride or groom."

The others reiterated Erik's words.

Marcus nodded glumly. "Yeah, neither do I."

Marcus eyed the sweetrolls on the table. He wasn't sure if they were 'available' yet, or if they were being saved for the after-dinner desert. No-one else was eating them, but one would've thought the servants would keep the food covered until it was to be eaten. He didn't know if it'd be socially acceptable to grab one and eat it.

Marcus glanced around. No-one was really paying attention to him. He could use telekinesis to grab one without approaching the table, and maybe turn invisible while he ate it, but someone might notice a random guest vanishing into thin air.

While this dilemma was plaguing Marcus' mind, he failed to notice the group of people moving behind him, and subsequently bumped into them as he attempted to put some distance between himself and the sweetrolls for the ensuing magical heist.

"Do you mind?" the girl behind Marcus said indignantly, having spilt a bit of her wine on her hand.

Marcus turned around quickly, "Oh, sorry! I didn't see you."

"Clearly not," the young lady said, frowning at him.

"You ought to look where you're going," said another one of the young Imperial women.

Before Marcus could respond, the third member of this little group stepped forward.

"Marcus?" Elisif said. "Well… I'm surprised to see you here."

"Oh!" Marcus bowed lightly, "Jarl Elisif, a pleasure as always."

"You can drop the formality, Marcus," the young jarl said smiling, "This is a jovial affair, after all."

"You know this man, Elisif?" asked the woman with the spilt wine.

Elisif nodded. "Oh, very much so, Lucia. He's one of my thanes."

"Really?" the second woman looked unconvinced. "He doesn't look like a thane."

Marcus smiled at the slightly obnoxious two girls. They were the same age as Elisif, and probably of similar political position in Cyrodiil.

Elisif frowned at her two companions. "Watch your tongue, Sona. This is the man I was telling you about earlier. The one who dealt with Potema."

The two girls, Sona and Lucia, glanced at each other, their frowns slowly turning shocked.

"Wait..." Lucia's face dropped. She'd completely forgotten about the wine on her wrist. "You mean… this is the thane? The Dragonborn?"

"In the flesh," Marcus said happily, enjoying the stunned looks on the two girls' faces.

Elisif giggled. "Yep. Without him, you'd be standing amongst a razed city, over-run with undead as Dragons breathed fire above you."

Marcus went to interject, "Well, that's a slight exaggeratio-"

"Oh my Gods!" Lucia rushed forward and bowed her head to Marcus, grasping his arms. "Please forgive me! I didn't mean to be condescending! I honestly had no idea..."

"It's fine," Marcus gently pried her hands away from him. "If I got offended every time someone misjudged me, I'd end up hating most of everyone I met."

The two girls still looked very troubled, but Marcus just simply nodded curtly to them, "Well, enjoy the party, I won't take anymore of your time."

Then he walked away.

Elisif looked at the her worried companions. "Don't worry about him. He's a nice enough sort, just a little… different, which is to be expected."

"I saw you talking to Elisif just then, and a couple other girls." Lydia said matter-of-factly.

"Nice to see your eyes are still working," Marcus replied.

They were sitting on a bench, Marcus' gaze was diverted downwards, while Lydia's was looking around.

She shot him a look at his remark. "What did they say?"

He shrugged. "Nothing. Not really. I bumped into one of them and they got upset with me, but Elisif told them who I was, and they apologized."

"I see..." Lydia nodded, her curiosity satisfied. She looked out at the ongoing reception. Some bards from the College were getting set up in one corner, preparing to play music that many would dance to.

"Have you ever thought of getting married?" Marcus asked suddenly.

Lydia jolted, her cheeks flushing with red colour instantly. She looked away. "Well… not really. I figured I still have plenty of time…"

Marcus nodded firmly. "That's a good outlook. Always good to have a plan, but no-one says you need to enact it immediately."

"What about you?"

"Me? Have I ever thought of getting married?"

Lydia nodded slowly.

Marcus chewed his lip, and gestured open palmed. "I've thought about it, conceptually, but I've never considered it as something I'd ever do."

"Why not?"

"There's a lot of reasons. I'd list them, but you'd just end up getting worried." He looked up at the moon, judging the time of night. The bridge and groom would be dancing first, followed by whoever else would want to. He needed to find a secluded spot to avoid the rush, and just enjoy the music.

He stood up to leave. Lydia grabbed his arm. "I'm... worried about you, you know." She said slowly.

"Whatever for? Haven't I proved I can defend myself well enough, at least?"

"That's not what I meant," Lydia said somberly. "You… need to look after yourself."

Marcus regarded his housecarl carefully, something almost akin to pity on his face. "You worry about you, Lydia. Find yourself someone you want to dance with."

Then he walked away, disappearing in a few steps as he blended into the crowd. Lydia looked forlornly at the space he disappeared from.

"I wanted to dance with you..."

Vittoria and Asgeir were dancing in the centre of the courtyard. A wide space had been cleared for them, with a large carpet serving as the 'dance floor'. The tune the bards played was soft and melodic. It called to mind happier memories, and the promise of more to come.

He stood at the stairs leading up to the castle walls, fairly far away from the crowd. He was beginning to get bored. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened tonight, it seemed. The wedding was almost over, and everyone would soon be heading home, after the dancing had happened. Even the guards seemed to relax.

Waste of time, Marcus thought to himself. He shouldn't have come. Doesn't seem like there was any need.

Everyone watched the bride and groom intently. Vittoria seemed to be a natural dancer, which made sense given her upbringing. Asgeir was a bit clumsier, but had most likely been given a lesson or two recently, so he kept up well enough.

Even the birds seemed to be watching the dance. Up on the walls around the courtyard, the hawks of Solitude were studying the congregation of humans. They were pretty evenly spread, covering the battlements in large numbers. Marcus wondered if he should just leave. There wasn't anything more for him to do here, and if he left now he could be in the reach by morning. He wanted to follow up on some of the information he'd beaten out of Madonach in prison, perhaps wipe out a forsworn stronghold or two.

A dart of movement caught his eye. Marcus looked up, seeing a group of hawks flying away from one section of wall. He frowned, not thinking of any reason why they would.

Another flicker of shadows grabbed his attention, this time on top of the wall. Marcus peered closely at the blocky top of the battlement. On any other day, he'd have assumed it was a guard, but all of them had been given orders to stay within the courtyard, keeping order and the like. The garrison on the walls was weak on most nights anyway.

His curiosity piqued, Marcus activated a spell that Drevis from the college had taught him. A flash of purple magic blossomed in his fingers, and his vision turned bright, allowing him to see in the dark much easier.

The wall looked normal from this angle. Marcus couldn't see much of it, but there didn't seem to be any source of movement. He studied the area carefully for another minute. A few seconds before the spell wore off, he saw something stick itself between two stone fortifications. He had just enough time before his vision returned to normal to see what it was. An arrowhead, draw on a bow.

Marcus' mind flew into overdrive. An arrow. Pointed at the centre of the courtyard. An assassin aiming for Vittoria's exposed back. Most likely poisoned.

There was no way to target the assassin effectively. At best the arrow would fly off-course and strike someone in the crowd, should Marcus fire an AOE spell.

He needed to get something as large as possible in between the bow and Vittoria, as fast as possible. Only one solution came to mind.

"Wuld, Nah Kest!"

The Thu'um propelled Marcus forward with the speed of a tempest, knocking aside people and throwing himself into the space in front of Vittoria at immense speed. The sound of the shout drowned out every other sound in the area, bouncing off the walls and shattering the picturesque vibe.

Before Marcus had even stopped moving, a black arrow caught him in his upper right shoulder, the force from the arrow slamming into his flesh sent him tumbling over, rolling onto the ground a metre in front of the dancing couple. He groaned, and clambered to his feet.

As he faced away from the ground, the entire crowd, which was now silent as a whisper, saw the large arrow buried in Marcus' shoulder. Each person instantly realized what had just happened, a collective gasp filled the air, followed by more silence.

"Mother..." Marcus reached up and ripped the arrow out of his shoulder, "Fucker!"

Then a collective cry of alarm and fear came from the throats of several particular young women in the crowd.

"Marcus!" They screamed in fear.

This shattered the silence, and hell broke loose. Vittoria and Asgeir clutched each other and ran for cover, with practically everyone else in the courtyard doing the same. Screams and cries of fright filled the air. Marcus reached out with one hand and fired a powerful lightning bolt at the area the arrow came from, filling the night air with a thunderclap and blowing apart that section of the wall. The flash of light illuminated much of that area, revealing a dark figure with a bow, in the process of running.

Marcus dropped the arrow and channeled healing magic through himself to counteract the poison, then broke into a run in an instant, darting through the crowd and pushing panicked civilians out of his way.

He got up onto the wall in under 10 seconds. He then sprinted as fast as he could along said wall, bursting through the watchtowers. After the final watchtower just past Castle Dour, there was a long stretch leading to the front gate of Solitude. Down below, and behind him, Marcus could hear the shouts of soldiers as they ran to try and locate the assassin.

At the very end of this stretch, almost at the front gate, Marcus could see the dark figure with the bow. They were in the process of climbing over the edge of the wall, where they'd be able to escape through the trees outside Solitude.

Reaching out his hand, Marcus fired a paralysis spell at the figure. It struck true, paralyzing the assassin just as they were halfway over the wall.

But their centre of gravity must've been on the other side, because the assassin stay frozen. Slowly, the assassin toppled over the edge of the wall. Marcus, realizing this, and silently cursed his luck.

As he came to the edge of the wall, Marcus didn't slow down. He leapt over it, shouting 'Become Ethereal' midair and falling to the ground.

The assassin wasn't in good shape. Up close, Marcus could tell it was a man. He wore a cloak, a hood, and pretty much everything that would make him look like an assassin. He'd taken the fall from the wall pretty bad, his lower half landing on a rock. Marcus was fairly sure his spine had taken the brunt of the fall, and he was moments away from death.

Green light flashed, and the man's posture slumped as the paralysis spell wore off. He gritted his teeth and coughed up blood.

"This… won't change anything..." The assassin coughed. "The plan will still go through."

Marcus tilted his head sideways. "Huh."

A flash of lightning later, the assassin died. No use leaving the man to bleed out painfully.

Marcus searched the corpse carefully, more out of habit that anything else. He found a letter in one of the pockets underneath the cloak, and carefully opened it up. There was a bit of blood on some of the writing, but it was mostly legible.

As he finished reading it, the suspicions that'd arose upon hearing the assassin's words were confirmed. The was a set of instructions, or a reminder of the instructions. Specifically, it emphasized that Vittoria was the target, not Asgeir.

Which led Marcus to believe that this wasn't because of the Civil War. It had something to do with Vittoria specifically, though there wasn't any way to know exactly what or why. She seemed to be a fairly bland person, if Marcus was being honest. He couldn't think of any reason why she'd be the specific target of a high-stakes assassination.

Regardless, Marcus wasn't learning anything more here, so with the letter in one hand, and dragging the body of the assassin with the other, he headed back into the frantic city toward Castle Dour.

"Marcus!" Jordis called out from the front door. "There's someone here for you!"

"Oh for fuck's sake..." Marcus mumbled, climbing out of bed. The wedding had only been last night, so he'd gotten about 4 hours sleep, tops.

He came down the stairs, making sure to put his shirt on the right way, and went up to the front door. Outside was a man in armour. He looked like an imperial soldier, but the armour he wore was slightly different. Still Imperial-themed, but more reds and browns, and a bit better crafted.

"Marcus the Dragonborn," The man nodded. "I'm Commander Maro."

"Just Marcus is fine," the younger man replied. "What's this about?"

"This is about the letter you gave to Captain Aldis late last night. Is there somewhere we can talk privately?"

Marcus blinked, before nodding slowly. "Um… yeah… I have a working area downstairs."

"That'll do." Commander Maro nodded curtly.

Marcus opened the door wide to allow the man to step through. As they walked downstairs, Marcus called back up to Jordis.

"Stay up here for a while. If anyone else comes to the door asking for me, tell them to shove off."

A few minutes later, the two men emerged from downstairs. Marcus looked troubled, and had his 'thinking hard' look.

"So we're on the same page?" Maro asked.

Marcus nodded, frowning thoughtfully. "Yeah… I'll meet your son at Dragon Bridge this afternoon."

Commander Maro nodded thankfully, and walked out. Jordis closed the door after him, before turning back to face Marcus.

"What was that about?" she asked.

Marcus sat in a chair, resting his chin on his hand. Jordis sat opposite him. "That was the leader of the Empire's personal guard… he believes that the assassination attempt last night was part of a ploy to get the Emperor to visit Skyrim. A ploy which has worked."

"The Emperor is going to visit Skyrim?"

"Yeah. Don't know why, but apparently his cousin almost getting skewered warrants a diplomatic visit. Probably something to do with morale or appearances, I'm not sure. Either way, Maro – that man – wants my help to ensure nothing bad happens."

"I see..." Jordis looked slightly upset.

"What's wrong?" Marcus asked, looking over.

"It's just… how is this your problem? Why do you have to get involved, and why do you want to?"

Marcus stood up, and shrugged slightly. "Well… I was asked to help. This could potentially snowball into a large issue. The Emperor's life might be threatened. I should help, if I can."

"You don't have to do everything, Marcus..." she said, a hint of desperation entering her voice. "The Emperor has dozens of exceptionally skilled bodyguards. Why do you feel you need to help so much?"

Marcus frowned. "I should, alright? That's why. I should help, because I'm in a perfect position to do so."

"No-one else pushes themselves like you do, Marcus!" Jordis said a bit louder. "You shouldn't chase off after every single problem on this world. Take better care of yourself, please."

Marcus' expression darkened. He looked up at his housecarl, then looked away.

"Do you remember what happened a week and a half ago? The Burning of King Olaf?"

"Of course," Jordis nodded. "We went to watch the festival together. We had a great time."

Marcus kept his eyes staring downwards. "I almost didn't go to the festival. I almost decided to head out onto the road late in the afternoon, to head past Dragon Bridge and make some progress in other endeavours. But no, I decided to 'take a night off' and go to the event I had helped reinstate a year ago. Do you remember that?"

"Yes..."

Marcus continued. "The following morning, I headed out. After passing Dragon Bridge, I came across the site of an attacked caravan. One carriage, two horses, and a woman. Nothing alive. The arrows in the bodies were made of chitin, indicating Falmer as the source. The blood had yet to soak into the ground, and the horses were still somewhat warm, so it had happened very early that morning."

Jordis' face creased with worry. She could see where Marcus was going with this.

"The woman had a journal on her body. She'd been hesitant to go on this particular trip. A bad premonition, plus the fact that merchants sometimes went missing along the same road. She decided to go anyway, because her husband insisted they needed the money if they were to start a proper family together."

"I tracked the Falmer to a nearby cave. Massacred them all. At the end of the tunnel, half-eaten by chaurus, was a man. He had a piece of paper in his pocket, scrawled frantically while he was kept prisoner, detailing his regrets and sorrows for his wife, and how he should have listened to her. His body was still warm."

"Marcus please..." Jordis began.

"If I hadn't gone to the festival..." Marcus said slowly. "If I had left that afternoon as I originally planned, I would've been the one ambushed on that road by Falmer. I would've been able to kill them, remove the threat, and the merchant caravan would've passed by in the morning unscathed."

Marcus looked up at last. Staring Jordis directly in the eyes. His stare was cold, almost. "But I didn't. I rested. I relaxed. I decided I had earned some 'time off' to enjoy myself with a friend. And because of this, an innocent family was butchered."

Marcus stood up, and began walking to the stairs toward his room. "I will do what needs to be done, and there's nothing else to it."

A minute later, Marcus came down in his light armour with his weapons strapped on. He nodded politely to Jordis, who was still sitting in the chair with a sad look on her face.

"You take care," he said.

Then Marcuswalked out the door.

Author's Notes: You know, I didn't actually set out with this story to create a harem, but it's kinda just… happened… Not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing. I'll probably be dialing it back a notch to set up for Dawnguard.

One more chapter on the Dark Brotherhood, it'll dabble a bit in some Skyrim fan-theories, and might be a tad doubtful in terms of realism, but it's the way I wanted to handle the Dark Brotherhood quests while maintaining the moral high ground.

Thank you for reading.