Guide:

Dwemeris

Thoughts

"Speech"

"Dovahzul"

Warnings/Disclaimer: see chapter 4

Chapter Warning(s): Same as last chapter.

A/N: Non-edited. Feel free to point out any mistakes you see! I had… a lot of issues writing this chapter. The plot just did not want to come. I hope you enjoy nonetheless!

Last time…

"So… How do you guys work around here? Any rules I should be aware of? What happens now?"

Chapter 35 – Bittersweet

"Well," Astrid says, "What happens now is you start your new life here in the Dark Brotherhood. You're part of the family after all. You won't find a safer place in all of Skyrim than this Sanctuary. Feel free to get comfortable for now. I don't have any interesting contracts ready for you. Ask Nazir for something to pass the time." She leaves then, leaving me surrounded by members of my new family.

"I'm Arnbjorn. I don't like you, but that's nothing personal, morsel. I'm Astrid's husband. She was a bit miffed by being tricked, it seems. I'll go speak with her." And he's off. Nice to meet you too.

The others are apparently well-used to his attitude, not even batting an eye at the strange behaviour when Gabriella introduces herself next. 'A woman of refined, yet simple tastes'. Alright..? She seems more pleasant than Arnbjorn and Astrid, though.

By now, I've already stood up, and Gabriella gives me a handful of clothes. "Feel free to wear them. Or not. We're assassins, not the Tamriel fashion police. Nobody will care whether or not you put on the uniform unless you're on a mission requiring… more than just killing."

I don't get to ask what she means as Babette and Nazir's bickering gets louder and louder. Veezara turns to me with a huff and I shrug my shoulder with a small smile as if to say 'well, what can you do'.

"Oh and - Fjaldi, was it? Cicero is probably dancing around somewhere near the Night Mother, you may want to find him later." With that, the Dunmer woman is off and Babette tugs at my clothes to catch my attention with a too-sharp, fanged grin.

"Hi, I'm Babette! You have to help me! They've killed my mama and papa, and now they're keeping me captive here!" The look of panic on her face would have been unquestionable had I not already faced similar creatures before.

"Oh? How long ago was that? One, two hundred years?" I give her a mischievous grin when her smile turns more genuine. "Sorry, but you don't fool me, miss vampire."

I've fought your kind several times. The first being most memorable. If not for the fire… Helgi would be just like you now, wouldn't she? My smile turns a little wistful. She arches her eyebrow. "Had a good experience with vampires?" I shake my head with a chuckle.

"Hah! No, not really, would have been one myself though, if I hadn't thrown a hissy fit in the jarl's own court. In hindsight, that may not have been my brightest idea."

I spend some more time with my new 'family', getting a single small contract from Nazir to be completed 'at my leisure' once he hears I'm headed for Riverwood and then Whiterun soon.

"This ones' on a Khajit. Ma'randru-jo. Something about a Skooma deal gone wrong. If you catch him in Whiterun, get the job done. If not, no problem, as long as you get to it eventually. The contracts aren't going anywhere." I blink down at the innocuous piece of paper.

"…" Not sure how I feel about this. I've killed in self-defence, I've killed obstacles, and I've hunted down nuisances on request of people bothered by them. This is a new line I'm crossing, and I'm not sure if the lack of any anger or other emotion other than apathy means I don't even care.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, I suppose." The Redguard huffs. "Save yourself the niceties for now. I have no intention of getting invested in you when you may be dead tomorrow. If you're still breathing in a few weeks, I'm sure we'll be the best of friends."

Bitch, I've been actively hunting dragons and delving into Falmer nests and Nordic ruins for a year. I've endured all that, and so I will endure what will come. Still.

"That's rather presumptuous of you. I guess we'll see what happens in the next few weeks. Besides… I don't have to be breathing to walk around, as you ought to know." I briefly glance at the paths deeper into the Sanctuary meaningfully and the man snorts. "If you want to go join a vampire coven, be my guest."

I snicker with him, before suddenly, I'm alone with Veezara.

I should get to reading that Word, and then go back to Falkreath before I'm missed… I will probably not be, but the chance is there.

"I hadn't thought helping you all those weeks ago would lead to this." The Argonian stretches a little, before moving over to the archery range. I follow him sedately, not really caring either way, but wanting to catch up with him now that we're no longer temporary allies.

I wonder if I can accept this family… As extended family, if anything. Ma and Mellte, and uncle to some degree, will always be the most precious to me, even if my memories fade.

"Neither had I. But what a positive outcome this is. You've made the right choice following Astrid. You trust in her, follow her orders, and you'll do good here."

He drawls, making himself more comfortable and gesturing for me to do the same. I plop down to the ground, crossing my legs. "Well, I suppose we don't have to worry about killing each other anymore." While we fill each other in on the past few weeks –

"Oh, just the same old boring contracts. Had to kill a witch in Fort Greymoor, what's more interesting is what has yet to come. You've heard of the Vicci wedding taking place in a month and some off days? It'll be a real show, I'm sure. Maybe you'll even be assigned to have a part in it!" – I notice how tense the poor guy seems, fidgeting a little ever-so-often and looking away.

I tilt my head in worry. "Are you feeling ill? I'm sure Babette can also whip up a potion for you… Or, here, have one of mine. Store-bought, but it should do…" Veezara looks at me, confused. "I… Why would you think I am ill, friend?" Now, it's my turn to be flustered.

"Well, you, uh, were fidgeting. I thought you might have been uncomfortable? Or am I just boring you?" I end on a more playful note, still pressing the potion into his claws just in case he needs it later.

"No! Not at all. I suppose it's been a while since I last had a good contract." I raise an eyebrow at him in disbelief. I sense an excuse. But very well, let him think he's tricked me for now. "Aye, very well. Best hope that Astrid comes up with something good soon, then." I look around, but it's impossible to tell the time in here.

Reluctantly, I stand up, dusting my pants of before heading to where the chanting in the back of my mind has been pointing all this time. "I'll meet with Cicero, see what he's like, and then leave – I really must be back at the inn by dawn. They're not going to let me sleep in just because I 'took a walk in the forest'."

I smile at Veezara, who just waves back, before walking up to the Word Wall – KRII. The first word of Marked for Death – why am I not surprised? I already know the third word, too… But that one is useless until I can get word number two, and I've no IDEA where that is.

The Forsaken cave and the Dark Brotherhood sanctuary. This Shout system, with words spread all over Skyrim and maybe even Tamriel, is such bullshit. A Dovahzul dictionary is really, really moving up my priority list. I purse my lips as I inspect the other strange writings, but I only recognise some of the runes I've encountered before, like the 'i', the 'ah', and the 'aa' runes. Aye, if no dictionary exists I will have to make one myself, once I retire… (If I even get that far).

Cicero is… Crazy. Insane. Mad. And a jester and trained assassin to boot, I suppose. Somehow managing to get through an entire 'conversation' with him without losing my patient smile feels like a personal achievement.

I step out of the room reeking of salve, rot and death, like draughr scent masked with flowers, as fast as is considered polite, a solemn expression on my face as I close the door behind me.

I'm glad I got out of there. I was starting to hear voices.

The expression doesn't leave me when I run into Nazir again, walking down to the main cavern with a rusty dagger. Seeing any blade in such condition makes disdain well up in me, but the… meeting, with Cicero has left me quite unbalanced. "Cicero is a few cogs short of a mechanism." I deadpan when the Redguard only raises an unimpressed eyebrow.

I rub my ear with a frown, as if to dislodge filth. "No, I'm serious! That guy's so mad even I was starting to hear voices!"

The second eyebrow joins the first, now in honest surprise. "Hearing voices? In the Night Mothers' chamber?" Uneasy, I fidget under his gaze. "It was probably my mind playing tricks on me, Nazir. It is quite late, after all." His penetrating gaze stayed on me for a few more moments.

"Then sleep. But fair warning – if that voice starts to become a regular thing, you may want to talk to Astrid about it, or attempt to listen more closely to what it says."

Only in Skyrim. Only in this – this logic-forsaken land of Skyrim would people ENCOURAGE me to listen to the voices in my head.

I'm out of here. I need sleep.

…

For fuck's sake, I only want some sleep. By the time I get back to the inn and to the shared room of Marcurio and I, I can see the woman he was making eyes for earlier is lying next to him, cuddled up to him, both of them naked as the day they were born. Am I happy this inn had doors built in for privacy since I gave them the money for it before I left last time.

Even so, I never could've dreamt this would happen. It's like someone threw a bucket of ice in my face, which settles somewhere in my stomach.

And… it's quite clear what happened. Love at first sight, aye? Not unheard of. I shut the door behind me, not able to get myself another room since Valga is fast asleep at these hours. Besides, dawn is approaching rapidly. I sit down at the smouldering coals in the centre of the room, feeling drained and empty, and a little lost.

Married on the first night. I can't believe he didn't even bother to ask for my opinion, or Erandur's, at least. I mean, the Dunmer is a priest of Mara!

But… I glance up at the door leading to them, to him, briefly before a sharp pang in my chest has me look away again, something wet dripping down my face and I still feel so… so damn empty.

But if he is happy with her, who am I to interfere? Jealous? Hah… aye, definitely. But when did jealousy ever solve anything?

I walk up to one of the tables, exhaustion starting to gnaw at me, so I take a long swig of ale and help myself to the bread still lying about. A little dry, but otherwise fine. I'm not even hungry. I just need to stay awake for an entire day without falling over on the road to Riverwood. Without Marcurio.

…Who will probably take his new sweetheart back to Riften. And since I'm loathe to let them travel by themselves and I know Erandur wants to go to Riften to stay at the temple there… Looks like it will be just me and, what's her name, Rayya, for now. Maybe when I pass through Whiterun and visit Jarl Balgruuf, I can drag Lydia along?

The hurt, the deep, soul-aching pain that settles deep in my chest, I know I won't be rid of for quite some time. I'm more of a fool than Cicero could ever hope to be. And so, the pain is my only companion for another few hours, and though I'm tempted to drink it all away, I don't think Valga will much appreciate a drunk in the early hours of morning.

I sit with my back to the fire, and place my head in my arms on the table. Something wet drips down my cheeks, and I bite the inside of my lip until I draw blood to stifle the pathetic sounds that threaten to leave me.

Pretty sure that if my new 'family' saw me now they'd either murder Marcurio or revoke my status as family member.

The thought doesn't cheer me up. Something cold and painful grows in my chest like a block of ice, it hurts, hurts, hurts, but I know I can do nothing about it without completely destroying every semblance of a friendship Marcurio and I can still have after this. I'm such a fool. Such a Sithis-damned fool.

I love him.

The stark realisation, far, far too late, has my chest clench so sharply that I fear I've snapped a heartstring or two for a moment. A shuddering breath. And another.

Just keep breathing, Fjaldi. You're still breathing.

Endure. Like Dwemer always do. Sometimes with the help of a mind healer that I cannot help myself with regardless of any vows. Footsteps walk up behind me slowly. "Tough night?" Valga asks worriedly, sounding a little tired herself.

"You could say so." I somehow manage to croak out miserably.

The footsteps move away for a while before returning, and I manage to lift my infinitely more heavy than usual head to blearily stare at the fresh foods placed in front of me. "On the house. I've never seen you this downtrodden." I shake my head, placing it back in my arms after nibbling on a bit of cheese I can't even taste properly.

After an hour or so, when some other patrons are starting to awaken and the village outside is slowly starting to live again, I manage to somewhat – barely – pull myself together the slightest bit. Enough to sit mostly upright, leaning my chin on one hand as I at least try to eat some proper breakfast.

Every bite is like sawdust in my mouth and throat, and I stare down at my plate dispassionately, my mind blissfully blank. When movement comes from Erandur's room, my ears only twitch. I don't move to greet him when he sits next to me, concerned frown on his face.

"Are you alright?"

No.

The tears threaten to escape again, but I look away and soldier through it with some more meditation-based, carefully measured, shaky breaths. "I've decided." Now, his frown turns downright worried, the priest's robes shifting as he places a dark-skinned hand on my shoulder, red eyes staring at me intensely.

"On what, Fjaldi?" He sounds so kind, so caring, the same he always does, even when something minor is afoot. The intonation of his voice alone is enough to make me hunch my shoulders even as exhaustion makes control of my emotions harder. I grit my teeth, and shake my head resolutely.

The girl Marcurio married walks out the door first, her hair still in disarray and her clothing askew as she awkwardly dances around her employer before disappearing into the back room. I look after her blankly. She doesn't deserve Marcurio. But then, neither do I. He's never looked at me like he looked at her before, after all. So she must have… something, I do not.

Or maybe he just preferred human lovers all along. Maybe I never stood a chance from the very start, if elves aren't his thing. Not 'human' enough.

Slowly, my gaze turns back to my plate. And I go back to waiting.

Marcurio has us wait for him for another 34 minutes and 12 seconds. When the door to the room with the double bed opens again, Erandur looks up with a stern look of disapproval on his face. "Good morning gentlemen! And what a fine morning it is!"

The mage calls out jovially, and I squint up at him through tired eyes, having trouble even focusing through the maelstrom of emotions raging through me. Anger, frustration, sadness, heartbreak, it makes me dizzy as it builds and builds inside my until I reach some sort of, inner threshold, and all those emotions implode inside of me, leaving behind only cold, cold, apathy. I still don't fully see the mage, having gone far beyond the realms of anger an sadness, spiralling into emptiness.

"I think it's time for us to part ways."

I still have all my gear on me. I don't need to step into that accursed room again. "With both of you." I give Erandur what I hope is an apologetic smile, but instead I see a flash of righteous anger, seemingly not directed at me.

"Marcurio, take Erandur and your new love to Riften safely. You know how our favourite priest has wanted to go to the Temple of Mara." Every word is distant and mechanical, like through a mirror, or glass. Like I'm not even there, and it's just a puppet or – shudder – a draughr, speaking.

"But she's -"

"Marcurio."

The protesting mage snaps his jaw shut with a click, eyes burning with something I cannot even think of understanding, not now, when I cannot even get a read on my own emotions. "Just… Go."

The last thing I want to hear about is how amazing your new wife is.

I purse my lips, nearly letting out an animalistic howl of anger, nearly unleashing all of my pent-up emotions and exhaustion on the mage like a battering ram. Instead, I turn sharply, stalking out of the inn and violently slamming the door shut behind me, ignoring the frustration welling up and boiling over for all of three seconds –

A/N: Why? Because I'm evil.