The sun was just beginning to rise when Svala crept back into camp. Karliah had agreed to retrieve the scroll for her and lock it away for her in the Guild vault. She hadn't expected anything different- obtaining an Elder Scroll was the heist of a lifetime for any thief. Still, she wasn't thrilled about having another soul on her conscience in the case things went bad.
"Where were you?!" Galmar roared at her, no sooner than she had entered the camp. "I almost had to send out a platoon to find your ass!"
"The wedding will be held in three days time," she said smoothly, entering her own tent. "There's Imperial sentries and Penitus Oculatus agents crawling around everywhere. It'd be suicide to try and slip past them right now."
He stood at the entrance to her tent, arms crossed. "That's not ideal," he said at last, still looking her over suspiciously. "That's all you learned?"
She arched an eyebrow at him, flopping onto her bedroll. "Yes? It's not as though I could ask Tullius directly what his plans are." She motioned with a finger for Galmar to turn around before peeling off her boots. He rolled his eyes but complied, and once his back was facing her she stripped off the Imperial cuirass and started putting her officer armor back on. "You don't believe me, do you."
"I never have," Galmar said to the hide of her tent. He sighed deeply before continuing. "But Ulfric does, and I trust that man with my life. So if he says you're trustworthy, then I guess I have no choice."
"Well, thanks, I guess," she huffed, flopping onto her bedroll. "Anything else or can I get some sleep?"
"No, I'll send word to Ulfric about what you've learned," Galmar was still refusing to face her, probably afraid she was still in a state of undress. "Get some sleep."
After he had stomped away, she made sure to secure the ties of her tent before lying on her bedroll and fishing out the letter Karliah had given her. Her heart beat faster and her stomach was swarmed with excitement as she read Bryn's familiar messy handwriting.
Dearest Lala,
Please don't worry, nothing is wrong. The Guild is stronger than ever, in fact, you should see the cistern. We've got enough merchants to rival Solitude itself! And best of all, we've been able to keep those elvish bastards off your tail.
Honestly, Lala, I just miss you. Every day without you is torture. I've never been one for the temple, but I find myself going to pray for your safety. But honestly, Lala, all I can think about is having you in my arms again.
I think about your lips around me, like the last time I saw you. I think about taking my time with you, for once, starting at your nose and working my way down your body, leaving no inch un-kissed. I think about tasting you, watching and feeling you come apart on my tongue. It's not enough, though. It's never enough.
I hope you will return with Karliah, but I know you better than that. All I know is when I do see you again, I'm going to drag you to the temple and marry you, and then I'm going to spend each and every second making up for all the time we've lost.
Until then, this will have to do.
All my love,
Your Bryn.
She read the letter twice before sliding a hand underneath her skirt. It wasn't as though she had time for a typical courtship filled with sweet nothings due to the chaos of her life, so to read such words coming from Bryn made her excited. She began rubbing her clit slowly at first, recalling the letter in her mind, increasing the tempo as she began to play out the fantasies he so vividly outlined.
She remembered the taste of him in her mouth, salty and warm and masculine, and the heavy weight of him on her tongue. She clasped her free hand over her mouth, hearing her own moans raise in volume the faster she stroked herself. She could see his red hair and mischievous blue eyes and his lean, lithe body and could just picture how he would take her on their wedding night, how he would undo her with the patience he used when he picked a lock...
"When you're fat with my child, everyone will know."
The reminder of Ulfric's deep voice within her memories sent her spiraling into such an intense orgasm that she nearly screamed. Instead, she bit hard into her palm, tasting iron as blood filled her mouth.
Well. That was unexpected.
Svala lied there for a few moments, trying to chase the image of Ulfric's heated gaze from her mind. She was going to marry Bryn. She had always loved Bryn. Bryn knew her, wanted her even before she was the Dragonborn. Their chemistry was undeniable.
So why was she still picturing Ulfric??
With an irritated sigh she flipped onto her side, trying desperately to sleep. Once sleep finally came, it was broken and restless. Dreams, nightmares really, of dragons devouring Bryn in front of her...Ulfric's mouth stained with blood as he struggled for breath...Trearil forcing her onto his cock until she choked and vomited, all plagued her until she finally awoke, somehow feeling more tired than she had felt before.
"You look like hell," Galmar told her when she eventually emerged from her tent. "Are you sure you're fit for duty?"
She glared at him, refusing to answer. "So what? We're just waiting around for Ulfric to show up?"
"Not exactly," he grinned at her. "You're going to a wedding. Hope you didn't get rid of that milk-drinker's uniform just yet."
And so, once again, she made her way for Solitude. There were more travelers on the road now, lots of Imperials and Bretons, with a few Thalmor mages and soldiers mixed in. The sight of them made her pause, adjust her crimson war paint to make sure most of her face was unrecognizable. Thankfully, they all passed her by without a second glance.
The crowd at the Temple of Divines must've contained most of Haafingar (and possibly a quarter of Tamriel). Bodies dressed in finery were pressed together in the small courtyard while an imperial bard warbled some cheery tune. As Svala slinked to the back, where some of the other soldiers were posted up, she overhead the bard complaining to another guest. "If you want my opinion, I think they should have paid for an entire quartet. Plenty of bards at the College would've loved the opportunity."
She stood stock still against the stone wall, keeping her expression neutral (although internally she was sickened by the entire display). Skyrim was still at war with itself, whole towns went hungry from the conflict, so many went with nothing...and here was enough food and wine and opulence to rival what she had seen in the Thalmor Embassy. While Ulfric wasn't blameless for his part in the war, at least he wasn't like Elisif, flaunting his wealth and status around at every opportunity.
The Fair Jarl was in attendance herself, accompanied by Elenwen, smiling and chatting together off by themselves. She wished she could've gotten closer to eavesdrop, but some of the other Imperials and Penitus Oculatus soldiers had started giving her funny looks. "Don't I know you from somewhere?" one asked, his breath reeking of ale as he motioned to her with his tankard.
"I'm just a dog of the empire," she said with a shrug. "Might've seen me giving those traitorous Stormcloaks hell."
"That must be it," the Penitus guard slurred at her. "I know I never forget a pretty face." A bronze hand groped out at her, which she forcefully pushed away.
"Forget this one." Svala growled at him. Out of her peripheral vision she saw Elenwen's eyes on her, carefully studying her. Shit. She straightened her spine, forcing herself to ignore the Altmer bitch.
Luckily, it was then that the happy couple decided to make their entrance. Vittoria looked lovely; she was draped in a pure white gown, embroidered with gold around the modest neckline. She wore a coat of imperial red on top of it, also ornately decorated with fine gold stitching. A crown of lilies and roses was nestled in her chestnut hair. However, it was the way her betrothed, Asgeir Snow-Shod, stared at her that really made Svala pause. The amount of love and reflection reflected in his gaze as he stared at his bride was enough to have her picturing herself in Vittoria's place, standing at the altar with Bryn on her arm...
She hardly realized her mind had wandered off during the vows, only coming back to herself when she heard the polite applause from the crowd. Vittoria beamed and waved demurely, and Asgeir held tight to her bicep and pressed kisses into her hairline as though he couldn't believe his luck at having her for a wife.
"Honored guests," Vittoria's voice rang out as she and Asgeir emerged onto a small balcony overlooking the festivities. "I just wanted to take this time to thank you all for being here," movement on the ledge above the couple caught her eye- it looked like a moving shadow. A figure all in black, perhaps? "To thank you for sharing this wonderfully happy day with myself and my new husband..."
"Do you see that?" She hissed to the guard posted next to her. He stared at her blankly with bloodshot eyes, shrugging unhelpfully. Idiot must've been deep in his cups. She looked at the ledge once more, but saw nothing. Still, her gut told her something was amiss.
"May you all be as happy in your lives as I know I will be in mine. Thank-" but as Vittoria went to finish her speech, she paused in confusion at the bits of gravel and stone falling upon her head. Svala looked up to the ledge above the same time as Vittoria did, just in time to watch one of the massive gargoyle statues fall from its perch, crushing the bride below.
The screams were immediate and deafening.
For a moment Svala stood rooted to the spot, stunned by the scene unfolding around her. Elenwen and Elisif were being led back to the palace by the majority of the Penitus Oculatus agents, while the rest of the Imperial forces tried to keep order. Other nobles and guests were scrambling, trying to find the exit, clawing and pushing past each other. Poor Asgeir hadn't moved; he was still staring at the fallen gargoyle, covering the space his new bride had occupied only moments before.
She shook her head, like a dog trying to dry itself. She needed to focus- now was not the time to get caught up in a hostile situation. If she were identified, undoubtedly the murder would be pinned on her... there. Up on the ledge again- a figure was crawling off, slinking in the shadows before breaking into a sprint. Her feet were moving before her brain could catch up.
It was hard to navigate through the panicked mob (she might've thrown a couple people out of her way) but she made it out of the city, hot on the heels of the shadowy figure. The closer she got, the clearer the wearer's armor became- black and red leather, Brotherhood for sure. She waited until they reached a hill to use whirlwind sprint to propel herself forward, launching herself onto the anonymous assailant. They collapsed together in a heap of limbs, tumbling down the slope of the hill until they landed at the edge of the road. She forced the figure onto their back, pointing her blade underneath their chin. "Now it's time to find out who you are..."
She felt the male (definitely, from where she was seated atop of him) flexing his wrist, a dagger clutched within it, ready to pierce her side... "Zun Haal Viik!" She Shouted, pleased that her unorthodox method of learning the Shout from Ulfric had been successful. The dagger went flying out of reach and, unceremoniously, she pulled the mask from the assassin's head.
Aventus Aretino's terrified face stared up at her.
Betrayal and shock warred within her gut, heavy as a stone. "I don't understand," she said softly, her blade still pointed at the boy's throat. "Why...why would you do this? You're just a boy!"
"I'm ten and four winters!" He snapped at her, still thrashing about underneath her. "And I've done more than you would care to know, Lady Stormblade," he sneered her own title at her with a type of malice she was surprised he could muster. "Now let me go before you get hurt."
Svala had to laugh at his arrogance- the scrawny boy was no match for her, even if she wasn't at her peak. "Aventus, we both know I could roast you alive right now if I wanted to. But I want to know more- why are you joined up with the Brotherhood? Why would you betray Ulfric? He took you in!"
"He made me a slave!" Aventus spat, his little fists punching uselessly into her thighs and hips. "He hid me away in the kitchens, never took me seriously...not like you did with Sofie," a flash of sadness crossed the boy's face before he continued. "I killed Grelod. I had to, to keep the others at Honorhall safe. And then Astrid found me, said I stole a contract from the Dark Brotherhood, and made me kill someone else as repayment." There was a dark, dangerous gleam shining in his dark brown eyes. "It was the most alive I've ever felt. She took me in after that, showed me the sanctuary, gave me a purpose. Don't you see, Lady Svala?" Tears were shining in those dark brown depths now. "The Brotherhood is the only family I've ever had. And I won't let anyone take them from me!"
He smashed his head into hers, with such force black spots danced in front of her vision, and then he was scrambling up to his feet, racing off into the tree line. "Wait! Aventus!" Ignoring her swimming vision and pounding head she made chase after him, only to run into the muscular chest of a stranger, wearing matching Brotherhood armor. Strong arms circled around her, and the smell of cedar and blood and...wet dog permeated her nose. Werewolf. She had smelled a similar scent dozens of times around Jorrvaskr in Whiterun (and those meatheads thought they were so slick and secretive, trying to hide their true nature). This was bad. "I don't want any trouble," she said, ashamed at the slight waver in her voice. "I just want to talk to the boy."
"I don't care what you want, pork chop," the man's voice rumbled in his chest, the reverberations felt against her back. "But believe me when I say it'd be best for everyone if you forget what you've seen here today."
"You know I can't do that." She expected to feel a pair of canines rip out her throat at any moment. "But if you hurt me, you'll be starting another war. The current master of the Thieves Guild will come looking for me, and if he finds out you've done anything to me...well, how confident do you feel starting a war with them?" The werewolf's grip on her had loosened slightly, a good sign, so she kept talking. "You're all better at killing, that's true, but I know for a fact the Guild has the numbers."
"Hmm," her captor hummed thoughtfully. "You make a good point. But I've got your scent now, hambone, and that's all I need to be able to find you wherever you go."
She repressed a shudder, just as Aventus began calling, "Arnbjorn! Come on! We need to get out of here before the guards come!"
She was shoved away from the man and stumbled, falling onto her knees. "Coming my Listener," the werewolf responded to Aventus before facing her with an absolutely predatory grin. "Until next time, tidbit."