Guide:

Dwemeris

Thoughts

"Speech"

"Dovahzul"

Warnings/Disclaimer: see chapter 4

Chapter Warning(s): Time skip, assassinations, FAN THEORIES PUT INTO PRACTICE.

Last time… "There is hope?" Nazir asks. "There is hope." I confirm solemnly, and he laughs.

Chapter 59 – To Kill an Empire

Ah, Nazir. A good friend, and one I am proud to call brother. Babette has also grown on me, with all her little quirks. She's terrifying. She's tamed the Frost Troll hiding in the iced-over tunnels. She's my terrifying Sister, though. Family. I would take a knife for any of them without hesitation.

My lips curl before I let out a forlorn sigh. Brynjolf is really making me wait. I wonder what sort of emergency came up that would take him until dinner. Maybe I'll go down to the Cistern myself and spare him the trouble of sending a runner.

Speaking of dinner though…

I grin at Keerava when she waltzes over with a grin on her face, her new ring sparkling under the low lights.

"Anything I can get my favorite customer?" She purrs, and I glance over at the empty table in front of me, comparing it to the food-laden wonders of other patrons.

"Could you get me another drink and two of whatever's on the menu tonight?"

"Have a fancy date?" I let out an undignified snort.

"Oblivion, no. I'm going to eat both servings. I must say, your meals have risen in their quality as of late. I cannot pass up the chance of one."

She grins and puts a claw in front of her lips. "Ah, but the how's a secret! Two specials and a bottle of wine, coming right up!"

I wave after her and return to the worn pages and ink in front of me, tracing the date of yet another interesting occasion. No, I had not been idle in the last three months, not at all.

~ 7th of Evening Star E201. The Pale, Irkngthand. ~

Today, I followed Karliah, Brynjolf and Etienne into Irkngthand. To summarize a long, arduous journey: they were glad to have me and my experience with Dwemer ruins along. Mercer now lies dead and bloating underwater, mere meters away from his ultimate goal. It is justice in its most ironic sense.

I have been jokingly named an honorary member of the Nightingales. Never will I swear myself to Nocturnal, but I do not mind them including me as their confidante. After what I have seen, Etienne figured I deserved to be included.

Brynjolf, once again, did not agree. He strikes me as a private man. If I get called 'lad' one more time I am chucking him into the sewer water with no regrets. Karliah did not mind as much as she could preach to me about Nocturnal. I have left them to deal with the Skeleton Key themselves. It would not do to draw unwanted attention from the trio's patron.

Killing Mercer had been weirdly fun, in a sense. Running around a giant Snowmer statue whilst playing "spot the air distortions" had been great entertainment until I caught him in the neck when he tried to get the jump on Etienne. I also had no personal grudge against him, so I could focus on the hunt whereas the others had to first get past their own hesitation.

I understood them, though. I had to kill Astrid, in the end. Which is also why I am here. Now that the dust has settled in both our guilds, we must review our agreements. The negotiations aren't actually going to take place here, but in the Cistern. The Bee 'n Barb is only the designated meeting spot.

Not that there are any guild members here right now.

Absently, I flip some more pages. Ah, there's my meeting with Amaund Motierre to tell him the contract was still on – amusing little man, that, almost a pity he's dead – and my reports to Elisif, which had gradually come to include more holds and people over the past months of travelling. I even made note of all the Thalmor attacks in Stormcloak territory.

By now, I make frequent stops at every hold in which I am Thane, and even in the ones where I am not in any political position but still more and more well-known on the streets. People are familiar with me. They come to me for their problems and I sometimes see them solved rather smoothly.

Except for the one incident at Markarth where I got to put my new assassination skills to good use after being unjustly thrown into jail. Calcelmo had thrown a massive fit in front of the jarl's court afterwards, and Erik and Eola even dropped by to see if someone needed to 'disappear' for their slight against my person.

The two cannibals had happily married each other, which had been… surprising.

That must have been some wedding banquet, now that I think of it.

Abruptly, I cease flicking pages as my eyes come to a halt on New Year's Eve.

I had really gone into the New Year with a splash. Gods, it was actually very enlightening. It's a good thing I never joined the Imperials – that would have been extremely awkward, otherwise.

… … …

~ 31st of Evening Star E201. Solitude, Harbor. ~

Tonight, I will end an Empire. Failure is not an option.

The water is freezing as it laps at my body, attempting to drag me to its depths in the late evening hours. Behind me and above me, Solitude is celebrating, and I can still vaguely hear the music and laughter from the citizens celebrating the last day of the year.

A string of flags, colorful pieces of square fabric, has blown over the city walls and ended up in the water not too far away, and I know the docks to be deserted but for a lone imperial corpse.

Not that I'm anywhere near solid land anymore, what with taking a nightly swim in the Sea of Ghosts, heading straight for the Katariah with a series of potions in my belt, knives on my hips, and my dark brotherhood cowl covering my face from the eyes down.

The skin-tight light armor is more suited to treading water than my usual gear, and I felt that, after all those Penitus Oculatus bastards did to the Dark Brotherhood, they had to know exactly who came for them tonight.

Approaching the ship, I down a Draught of Waterbreathing before going under, the deep green water making it nearly impossible to even see the silhouette of the giant ship that houses the Emperor if not for the moonlight filtering through the waves.

The anchor chain is easily found – climbing into the ship alongside it is not as easy as I had anticipated, however. The heavy chain, with big enough hoops to put my hand through, is covered in algae, rust, barnacles, and other assorted vermin.

The stories make it sound so easy, I'm disappointed but not surprised to see that reality didn't match up to them.

Thank Sithis for these gloves. This damn thing would tear my palms open if I wasn't wearing them.

I end up in a storeroom. I suppose it would have been far too much to ask of the anchor chain to lead me directly to the Emperor's Chambers. Now THAT would have been poor planning on the part of the Empire – not that pissing off the Dark Brotherhood was a good plan either.

The first three sailors go down without even realizing what is happening to them. I hold the last one carefully, lowering them to the ground noiselessly – it won't do to be caught red-handed this soon in the game, having every person on board after me.

I drag the sailor back into his room and shut the door behind me.

Hopefully, it will be a while yet until anyone thinks to check the storeroom.

I am under no delusions: the second that someone stumbles upon the corpses, the alarm will be raised. With my current luck, they'd set sail and trap me on the Sea of Ghosts with them as some sort of last attempt at a pyrrhic victory.

Then I'd die because I can't sail a ship for shit. Which would be embarrassing, really.

Right. Back to the task at hand.

A single Penitus Oculatus agent and some masterful sneaking later, I walk up a set of stairs that lead from the main dining hall to upstairs, or at least so it seems. The clangs of a hammer on an anvil is strange to hear aboard a ship, of all places – surely a burning forge, or any fire hot enough to work steel in a wooden vessel would be a bad idea?

Nevertheless, the sound covers the creaking of the wooden stairs well enough for the guards to not immediately notice me.

It even covers the noise the armor of the Penitus Oculatus agents makes as they clang to the floor, gurgling their last breaths as they choke on the blood in the same lovely color as their tacky uniforms.

I snort and shake my head.

How did they manage to kill everyone? Is surprise not a daily occurrence for Assassins? How did so many of the family fall, when these guys, they're… about as incompetent as Erik was when I first took him to get fitted for armor?

My lips purse in disapproval.

Or… this is a setup. Another trap. Motierre, I swear to Sithis if I get caught in an ambush –

Ah. These stairs must lead to the deck, if the gentle, cool, night-time ocean breeze is any indication. Lovely weather, for New Year's eve. Elisif and Jordis must be having the time of their lives right about now, not even half an hour's walk from where I am right now.

Speaking of, it's... Fifty minutes to go to year 202 of the Fourth Era. I wonder if I can enter the new year with a bang?

But first, the door next to the staircase. Close to an exit to the main deck, thus of importance, as whoever stays there has to be able to come up at a moment's notice.

I push the door open and slip in, immediately shutting the door behind me with a clang when the Orc on the other end rises and draws a dagger.

"What? No, hold on, Maro said you were all-"

"Dead?" I intone softly, tilting my head and narrowing my eyes as the Mer freezes momentarily, allowing me a glimpse of the shiny golden key dangling freely from his tunic's belt.

"Maro is but a mere mortal. He cannot deny the will of Sithis." I add, and the Orsimer – Captain, the captain of the ship – charges with a cry that is far too loud for this time of day.

I neatly duck underneath his first stab, dancing to the side in a move Nazir taught me not too long ago and I sweep my own legs behind his while he is still standing with his arm outstretched, unbalanced.

He goes down like a sack of potatoes, knees hitting the wooden floor with a dull 'thud'. I pounce without hesitation, pressing my own knee into his back and holding one hand against his throat, keeping him down securely with his dagger sinking into the wood above the captain's head.

"Ah… That would be the Master Key you have there?" I ask, injecting dark amusement into my voice.

The stiffening of the orc's muscles beneath my fingertips is all I need to know.

"How awfully convenient. You have my gratitude." And then he's dead. The key dances between my fingers before disappearing into one of my outfit's many pockets. I imagine the Emperor will be under lock and key – hah – so this might very well come in handy.

I snatch the coins on his desk as I go. No use in wasting coin, as Brynjolf would say. And, as Cicero would likely add: 'the guy's got no need for gold in the Void.'

The deck is absolutely packed with people even at the late hour – or perhaps especially because of the late hour. New Year is fast approaching, and I imagine that the sailors and agents would like to celebrate it. Perhaps also celebrate the successful destruction of the Dark Brotherhood? Oh well, even if we lost that battle, what matters is that the Brotherhood will win this little war.

It's… laughably easy to slyly walk past the groups of people. A few men in the corner are clearly already drunk in 'preparation' for the parties later. Using some crates and barrels for coverage, I cross the deck and enter the other side of the Katariah.

It's big. And quite pretty for a ship – not that I'd know.

I make my way through and…

Come face-to-face with a big, heavy-wrought, elaborate iron door neatly labelled "Emperor's Quarters". A beat passes before I scramble for the ship's Master Key.

Surely it can't be THIS easy?

It is that easy.

"And once more, I prove commander Maro the fool. I told him you can't stop the Dark Brotherhood. Never could."

I take a precious second to take in the office – a half-moon shape with a door presumably leading to a bedroom and another one leading outside. The place is made entirely out of highly polished, high quality wood that does not creak under my soles. The glass-stained windows show the ocean view outside, framed by the red banners of the empire.

The centerpiece of the room is an enormous desk covered in paper, books, maps and other paraphernalia, including a flask of wine I could probably buy another house with.

Behind it sits an old man. The one who spoke. His robes are colorful, elaborate red and blue with golden thread and luxurious fur. His wrinkled fingers all hold rings, and his posture is ramrod straight and regal.

It stands in stark contrast to the dark lines under his eyes and drawn deeply in his face, sallow and tired, eyes dark and resigned, but knowing in the way only a dying man's are. There is not a drop of sweat on his bald head, not a hair in his well-groomed beard out of place: this is a man who is at peace with fate.

It's a stunning sight.

"Come now, don't be shy. You did not come this far just to stand there gawking."

The Emperor seems almost… amused.

Slowly, I pull down the mask covering my face so he can hear my voice clearly. "You were expecting me."

It's not a question, but the man takes it as if it were one anyway.

"But of course. You and I have a date with destiny. But so it is with assassins and emperors, hmm? Yes, I must die. And you must deliver the blow. It is simply the way it is. But I wonder… would you suffer an old man a few more words before the deed is done?"

I snort, and the Emperor of Tamriel pauses as he waits calmly for my response.

"Destiny is an elusive thing. I am glad that I do not stand where you stand, even if blood could have decreed otherwise."

He raises his eyebrows. "You? You hold… Ah. You must be the elusive Dragonborn that I have been hearing so much about."

I frown, but give him a small nod. "I am. You heard all good things, I should hope?" The Emperor chuckles but makes no move to sit back down at his desk.

"I must admit, your role in the Dark Brotherhood has been kept well enough under wraps that no imperial spy has gotten their hands on the information. Jarl Elisif is most taken with you, it seems. As your past actions show, you are clearly willing to go out of your way to show kindness…"

"Aye. You mentioned allowing you to speak, I believe. Very well, who am I to gainsay an old man his right to talk? Experience taught me they like to do so." I drawl lightly, absently reaching for a poison vial to dip the ebony dagger in that I had forged just for this assassination.

The conversation flows easily even with the sharp tension in the air.

I roll the glass between my fingers when the Emperor chuckles. "You have not yet had the experience that is attending a political meeting, Dragonborn. You will know how men talk, then."

It sounds almost foreboding, yet I manage a sharp smile.

"I can Shout over any noise most men are able to make."

"So you can." He acknowledges, dipping his head and pressing the fingertips of his hands together, still as serene as a rock in the rain.

"You will hear me out, then? I thank you for your courtesy. As we both know, you will kill me tonight, at the conclusion of this year and the ending of the Mede Dynasty in a masterful collaboration that will surely be interpreted as being symbolic by writers of history."

"Now that you stand before me, I sense in you a certain… ambition, one which your rumored actions show. So I ask of you a favor."

I raise my eyebrow delicately, tilting my head as if confused. "Favor, you say?"

"Indeed. An old man's dying wish, if you will. While there are many who would see me dead, there is one who set the machine in motion. This person, whomever he or she may be, must be punished for their treachery. Once you have been… 'rewarded' for my assassination, I want you to kill the very person who ordered it. Would you do me this kindness?"

I tilt my head further, scowling.

His words ring false.

He… He knows who set him up to die.

Wait. Hold on.

"Is it, really?" He lifts his brows in askance, and I elaborate:

"A kindness, I mean. It sounds more as if you wish me to tie up loose ends, as it were. Do not forget I deal with assassins, thieves, and politicians alike… Amaund Motierre not the least of them." I admonish and inquire at the same time, and the Emperor turns around to stare out the window.

"You… are not wrong, I'm afraid. This Empire has been crumbling ever since the last of the Dragon Blood gave his life for Tamriel, from the moment it was founded – I would be a fool not to see it. I have lost the faith of my people, and the results are far-reaching, seen even in the Civil War right here, tearing apart even more… in vain, and at my directive, for it was I who signed the White-Gold Concordat."

I take a few seconds to let it all sink in, breathing out a deep sigh as realization sets in. Or perhaps as the realization makes itself known now that I take a moment to consider the war-torn land of Skyrim. Still…

"The Civil War was never about religion."

"No. And it is part of the mistakes I must answer for."

"…And so, you set up your own death." I deliberate, drawing my dagger soundlessly and taking a slow step towards the man's back in the resulting, awaiting silence.

Once more, mainly for myself, I clarify my statement:

"Your efforts were in vain. Your Empire is falling. And an assassination is a better fate than a coward's death. Motierre is either loyal enough for you to trust him with this, but… no. He is not. You merely gave him incentive to act against you."

My words are not accusing as I figure out the Emperor's game.

"I will fulfill your request, Titus Mede II."

A near-inaudible sigh of relief. "Thank you. Somehow, I am glad it is your hand that will deal the blow, Dragonborn. I trust that you will… keep this between us?"

"What you have done for this… your ploy I can respect." I answer vaguely, dabbing poison onto the blade.

"Alright then. Fare thee well, Dragonborn."

He falls silent, and I plunge the dagger into his back, through his heart, the poison killing him almost instantly as warm blood pours out over my Dark Brotherhood gloves, dripping down the Emperor's robes and onto the floor between us.

I do not let him fall to the ground but lift him to his bed.

It seems too undignified for the Emperor to die like a Skeever on the floor. I can allow him this decency.

I place his rapidly cooling hands on his chest as if he were prepared for a burial, leaving the knife underneath them alongside a nightshade flower. The Dark Brotherhood's calling card.

Even in death, the old man looks serene. Perhaps even more so, since his lips are lifted upwards in a smile of acceptance even with the stains of dark, poisoned blood at their corners.

I walk out into the calm night air as alarm bells start ringing across the ship, and in the distance, I hear a hundred voices rise in jubilance, a cry for the New Year.

"Happy New Year." I whisper to myself before taking the plunge into the icy, pitch-black ocean below.

… … …

It did end up being interpreted as a symbol. The Fall of a Dynasty at the very start of a new era. People are saying it's a sign.

Gods, what a year it's been.

I'd killed Motierre as soon as possible afterwards, of course. Nazir was just happy for the coin – Devlin even more so when I paid him to brighten up the Dawnstar Sanctuary. In return, he gave me an old Dwemer key. Didn't tell me what it was for, only smirked and winked in my direction, saying something along the lines of "finding out in a bit".

I still don't know what the key is for, or how he even got his hands on such an intact piece of work.

I suppose that I'll find out sometime soon. Maybe when I corner him tonight.

I flick over to today's entry as Keerava places food in front of me. Coins exchange hands before I reach into my bag to retrieve my inkwell and – beaten and ragged – quill.

~ 12th of Morning Star E202. The Rift, Bee 'n Barb. ~

I was told to come here in order to discuss the new arrangements between the Thieves Guild and the Dark Brotherhood. Brynjolf is impossibly late, so I ordered dinner. Could he really not have sent someone else by now? Or is the entire guild in a crisis? If so, I should perhaps make my way down to the Flagon so I may offer assistance.

I finish my dinner and add a single line:

That's it, I'm going down there myself. I've more things to do than wait.

.

A/N: hope the time skip wasn't too confusing! I basically covered 3 months and some odd days. We'll go back to regular story format now. If you want to comment on my take on the Emperor's plot, check user "Avarti"s fan theory video on YouTube. (watch ? v = mcV3FrgyVYE) remove spaces. I did not take is AS far as the theory but playing with it was plenty of fun. I might use it later too.