Rise of the Brotherhood

- Part I -

Kill the bride. Astrid's words echoed in my head. Kill the bride. Pretty simple. Nothing I hadn't done before. Amazing it is, the cowardice of men. Would rather hire a cut throat to cure their cold feet than face a woman. And they call themselves the superior sex. Laughable.

I sighed, undoing the knot of hair that rested at the base of my neck. Red curls tumbled around me and I sat on my bed, moving to remove my boots. Despite the familiarity and context of the kill, I wondered if I should feel guilt over the bride's impending doom. I was once a priestess of Mara after all. But that's a story for another time.

I rolled my guiltless shoulders in an attempt to ease the soreness a proper workout accumulated. That was another time. I served a new lord now; Sithis, and he was a much stronger deity. He did not care for the essence of love. It was, after all, a useless thing. A weakness whose warm embrace is nothing but well concealed barbs. Love stood no chance in the face of the Void. It came for us all, one way or another. But for myself, it gave me strength and power and purpose. What had love ever done for me?

Well, it did lead me here in the end, I reasoned.

I glanced about myself. Gabriella lay in the nearest bed, asleep. A book lay on her side, one she'd borrowed from me I noted as I squinted my eyes at the title. I glanced to my nightstand where a pile of books grew. Maybe one of these days I'd actually get to them. I was quite preoccupied at the moment.

Hadn't always been that way. Work was steady enough; Nazir usually had something for me to do. But life was very mundane. Receive a contract, fulfill the contract, accept the gold, then my time was my own. I had enough to fill it with. I enjoyed reading ever since I was taught at the temple in Riften. I also dabbled in alchemy. I was always shit at Healing potions, as my elders were so adept at pointing out. Poisons, however, are much more my forte. Thankfully.

If business was particularly slow, I liked to travel to Riften. I'm friendly with the Thieves Guild there. They're usually kind enough to buy my creations without ripping me off completely.

Despite the smelly canals, I'm quite fond of Riften nowadays. Call me sentimental, but I wouldn't be here without that shitty orphanage and its shitty headmistress. At least she was kind enough to turn her back on me so I could push my dagger through her neck. Lovely work, honestly. She fell so poetically against her desk; made it look like she'd died working. Well…if you discounted the vision of the mass of flesh that used to be her throat.

You could say I gave the ultimate gift of kindness to those kids. I do. And I was repaid in kind. Suffice it to say, one lovely kidnapping and an impromtu assassination later and I was calling the Dark Brotherhood my home. Honestly? I couldn't have written a better story if I tried.

I fit in here as well as my mother fits in her coffin. Better even (we had to kind of stuff her in there-coffins are expensive). I've never felt more at home really. I enjoy the like-minded souls. Except Arnbjorn. Just because we're assassins doesn't mean we have to be rude. Honestly. Ah and that word; assassin. Well it's a title really, and I much prefer it to just being a cut throat who will literally cut anyone's throat for the right amount of gold. (Usually high amounts of gold. What can I say? I like expensive wine. Like that imported stuff. Tastes like honey.)

So I assimilated into my new home and my new 'family' as Astrid likes to call them. I did the mundane, as I said, around here and had no qualms about it. But wouldn't you know it, fate had other plans for me. I recalled the beginning as I removed the rest of my armor.

One day I returned to the Sanctuary only to be immediately pulled aside by Astrid. She glanced over her shoulder as she pushed me into a corner, her light-colored eyes intense.

"Something on your mind, Astrid?" I asked, removing my hood and shaking out my hair.

There was indeed. Astrid confided in me that Cicero had taken to locking himself in the Night Mother's chamber. She said she would hear him whispering, but to whom?

"The Night Mother?" I replied. "He's kind of off his rocker."

"I fear treachery," Astrid shook her head. "What are they talking about in there? What are they planning?"

I tried to hide my bemused face.

I should probably give a little footnote to Cicero here. He's well…a jester. No I'm serious, garb and all. He's called the Keeper. He's in charge of the Night Mother. Slathers her in oil, keeps her preserved, all that. Her resting place had been disturbed due to foreign turmoil and so he had carted her coffin all the way to our Sanctuary here in Falkreath. Apparently we're one of the few sects left. He's uh…well, he's crazy. But who am I to judge? Spend your life solely taking care of a dead person? I'd probably lose it a little too.

Anyway, I thought Astrid was being a little paranoid. She gets that way when she can't control a situation. Leadership's gone to her head a bit. Always seems like she needs to stress that she's in charge here, like anyone is even asking. I still thought more likely of my theory about the whispering. Sure Cicero was probably dangerous; he was a member of the Dark Brotherhood after all. And he was mad. And mad people who have the knowhow to slice you to bits are pretty dangerous. But it didn't seem to me that he had the mental capacity to plan a coup.

But I decided to ease my mistress' mind and agreed to investigate. The things you do for Family, right?

I considered broaching the topic to my brothers and sisters but decided against it. They all adored Astrid, almost a little too much, but I didn't want to get on anyone's bad side. Not a good place to be if you live with assassins.

This was how I found myself in the Night Mother's chambers. Oh, I forgot to mention Astrid wanted me to conduct my investigation from within the Night Mother's coffin. You heard that right. As vital as she was to my particular profession, the thought of cuddling up to her corpse didn't really fill me with warmth. But I sighed and resigned myself, opening the metal coffin doors. I observed the corpse before me.

Cicero was doing a good job at least. Her corpse, for how old it was, looked remarkably intact. I mean, no rosy cheeks and comforting bosom but she resembled what a person might have looked like once. And she didn't smell. Can't tell you how relieved I was to discover that. In fact, she smelled kind of nice. A scent that I can't place that tugged on my memory from some time when I was a girl. Weirdly comforted, I stepped into the coffin, my nose only an inch from where hers should have been, and encased myself within the iron doors.

Before the air became too uncomfortably stale, I finally heard Cicero step into the room. At first, I couldn't hear what he was saying. It was a lot of muttering with sudden outbursts, but I could tell that they were mutters to himself, not someone else. I certainly didn't hear anyone else in the room. And then Cicero started talking loudly, and it was evident that he was talking to the Night Mother. On and on and on he went about how hard he was trying to serve his mother, but that he simply could not find the Listener. He wondered, with an air of frustration, why he couldn't be the Listener. I had to say, he had a point. Poor guy spends his days tending to a corpse but doesn't get made Listener? Harsh.

But a Listener…there hadn't been one for centuries. The Listener is the sole person who can communicate with the Night Mother. She relays the Sacraments she has overheard to the Listener. Normally, in turn, the Listener would inform the Speaker and a member would be dispatched to begin. Like I said though, this is a very old process. Without a Listener, the Dark Brotherhood hears about Dark Sacraments from rumors. Effective enough but a bit tedious.

The ramblings went on and on and, honestly, I was growing a bit sleepy when, suddenly, words filled my head. Not my own words. And not said in my voice. A very motherly voice sang through my head: Poor sweet Cicero. Such a humble servant. But he will never hear my voice. For he is not the Listener.

I started, almost whacking my knee on those damned iron doors. What the hell was that? Was I going crazy too!?

"How am I to exert your will if you will not speak? To anyone!" Cicero cried in frustration.

Oh but I will speak. I will speak to you. For you are the one.

That voice again! My heart was beating rapidly against my ribcage but somehow…the voice calmed me. It flowed over me, wrapping me in security.

Yes, you. The one who shares my iron tomb, who worms my ancient bones. I give you this task-journey to Volunruud. Speak with Amaund Motierre. Tell Cicero that the time has come. Tell him the words he has been waiting for all these years. "Darkness rises when silence dies."

The calmness was still working tendrils of peace around my limbs when the doors to the coffin suddenly flew open. A blast of cool air and bright light flashed over me as the peace I felt evaporated and I was left with the vision of an angry Cicero, glaring holes into my soul.

His face was scarlet as he screamed. "Defiler! Defacer and defiler! How dare you violate the sanctity of the Night Mother's coffin! Explain yourself!"

I opened my mouth, but no words came out. My brain felt sluggish and I was reeling from what had just transpired in the darkness of the coffin.

"Speak worm!" Cicero demanded and my eyes automatically fell to the daggers sheathed at his side.

"The Night Mother spoke to me. She said I was "the one"," the words fell out of my mouth without conscious thought.

Cicero's face went slack for a moment. "She…spoke to you…?" But a second later his face once again contorted in rage. "Deceit and treachery! The Night Mother speaks only to the Listener. And . !"

I eyed the jester carefully. "She told me to tell you: darkness rises when silence dies."

His features smoothed again, arranging themselves in such a way I could not read him. "She said that? She said those words…to you? Darkness rises when silence dies?"

I only nodded wearily.

"But…those are the words. The Binding Words written in the Keeper Tomes. The signal that I would know." Cicero was silent for such a long moment that his hysterical laughing almost caused my heart to fail. He clapped his hands and danced a jig. "She's back! Our lady is back! She's chosen a listener! She's chosen you! All hail the Listener!"

While Cicero continued to dance around and laugh maniacally I finally stepped down out of the coffin. It was at that moment Astrid came rushing into the room. Her sharp eyes quickly scanned the room, spotting me by the coffin then focusing on Cicero.

"By Sithis this stops now! Step away fool. Whatever you're planning is over!" I moved closer to Astrid as she turned her head to address me. "Are you alright? I heard the commotion. Who was Cicero talking to? Where's the accomplice? Reveal yourself, traitor!"

Astrid glared around the room but only silence met her.

Before I could answer, Cicero spoke up, sounding like a pouting child. "I was only speaking to the Night Mother. But she wouldn't speak to me. Oh no, she spoke only to her. To the Listener."

"What? The Listener? What are you going on about? What is this lunacy?" Astrid seemed to be losing her patience.

"It's true! The silence has been broken! The Night Mother has chosen a Listener!" Cicero clapped again in glee.

Astrid watched the jester for a moment before turning fully to look at me. "When I heard screaming I feared that you'd been discovered. I feared the worst. Are you alright?"

For some reason, it hit me just then that Astrid cared for me. That I was part of her family. Which wasn't just a word I used because we called each other brother and sister; to her, it meant something. We were her family. People she loved. People she wanted to protect.

I felt…confused. Sure Astrid was married but it certainly didn't get in the way of business. I shrugged it off as something people just…well, 'do'. But to care so deeply for everyone who resided in this sanctuary…I couldn't help the first thought that popped into my head.

She was weak.

My mind tried to grapple with this. Astrid? Weak? My brain tried to laugh. That woman was as immovable as a mountain.

But mountains can crumble, I reminded myself. Where there is love, there is weakness. And there is no room for weakness in the Dark Brotherhood. Especially not in its leader.

I was jarred out of my musings when I noticed Astrid's expectant look. I cleared my throat. "I'm fine, Astrid."

"Then what in Sithis' name is going on?" She crossed her arms. "He's been talking to the Night Mother but the Night Mother spoke to you? Is this just more raving madness?"

I bit my bottom lip subtly and glanced over my shoulder. The Night Mother's corpse looked the same as it had the first time I opened the door. Yet somehow, something had changed. Something had shifted. I could feel it.

I glanced back to Astrid. "She did speak to me. She told me I was "the one"."

Astrid regarded me for a minute. "So Cicero wasn't conspiring with anyone; he was talking to the Night Mother. And the Night Mother, who, according to everything we know, only speaks to the one chosen as Listener…spoke…just now…to you?"

Astrid's incredulity cut at my pride unexpectedly, but I reminded myself that was ridiculous. This was a little…well…mad. I nodded.

"By Sithis…and? What did she say?"

I pulled the words from my memory. "She told me to speak to someone named Amaund Motierre in Volunruud."

"Amaund Motierre," Astrid rolled the name over her tongue. "I don't know who that is. But Volunruud I have heard of; and I know where it is."

"So…should I head there then?"

Astrid, who was looking pensive, suddenly looked at me sharply. "No. No! I don't know what's going on here but you take your orders from me. Is that clear?"

Astrid's vicious tone took me aback. "Oh…uh, of course."

Astrid was glaring at the wall just past my ear. Her need to assert her dominance almost screamed at me from her straight back, crossed arms, furrowed brows. I frowned.

"Go see Nazir. I'm sure he has work for you. I need to think about things."

And with that, she took a glance at the Night Mother before turning her back on me. Silence dawned and I glanced at Cicero. He was grinning, moving side to side like he couldn't contain his energy.

"Is this real?" I finally asked.

He regarded me for a moment. "Our Mother has finally spoken."

I tilted my head. "You wanted to be the Listener, didn't you?"

Cicero regarded me deeply for a minute, reminding me that he wasn't just a fool. "I had hoped perhaps one day. But my duty is to be the Keeper. But you…" the happiness in his face returned. "You have broken the silence!"

I frowned. I had indeed. But what troubles did I bring with it?

Upon exiting Cicero's chambers, I did not immediately seek out Nazir. My mind was too preoccupied to worry about contracts as a torrent of thoughts flooded every part of my brain. And so I wandered to the place where I did my best thinking: the kitchen.

Perched atop a counter, a piece of warm bread in my hand, I let myself think about all that transpired. First and foremost, I had to face the reality of the situation. And that reality was that this was all very, very real.

I had never really put much thought into the lore of The Brotherhood. Oh I had studied it; devoured every book I could find on the topic. But I had never really thought about it. Sithis, the Void, just a deity like every other. And the Night Mother? She was a thing of legends.

There was a time, however, when Sithis and the Night Mother and the doctrine they represented, was sacred to the Brotherhood. Not only sacred- vital. The Dark Brotherhood split from the Morag Tong somewhere in the Second Era. The Morag Tong revered the Daedric Prince Mephala, Their ideals revolved around assassinations being purely for economical and political purposes. The Brotherhood, however, answered to Sithis and the Night Mother. Their assassinations focused on honoring and serving Sithis; and Sithis doesn't care who is rich or poor, powerful or peasant; a soul is a soul.

Of course, things had changed since the Second Era. Here at least, under Astrid's rule, the old way is not followed. She told me herself rather flippantly about how outdated the Five Tenants were before I had a chance to dive into every book on the Brotherhood I could find. But Sithis was real, this I know with absolute certainty. And apparently all the tales of the Night Mother were just as real. I swallowed against my throat, worrying about the consequences of Astrid's ego.

"Eydis," a familiar voice grabbed my attention and I glanced up to find our resident Redguard descending the stairs to the kitchen. "Here to brood?"

"Would you brood anywhere else?" I asked flippantly.

"I agree with your choice," Nazir said as he lowered himself into a wooden chair. "What troubles you, Sister?"

I took a bite of my bread, chewing it slowly as I contemplated my next words. "What are your thoughts on the Night Mother?"

Nazir's eyebrows lifted. "As a rule, I'm not crazy about the corpses of old women. For the Night Mother, I'll make an exception. But Astrid is the mistress I serve."

His words affirmed my suspicions…and my fears.

I did as Astrid requested and received two contracts from Nazir. The bard was simple. And from what I had gathered, the orc was so disliked I probably could have gotten away with just stabbing him in the open. I had certainly thought of it while sitting in the inn, listening to every flat note. The other contract, however, kept my mind occupied.

I'd never killed a vampire before and I had to do some research before I could plan. This vampire, Hern, and his female companion, had effectively blended into everyday life. That is to say, they operated at all hours of the day. It took a few days of watching their routine to determine the best time to strike. In the end, I managed to kill the pair without dying and un-dying. Babette might think it quite a boon to be a vampire, but one lifetime was quite enough for me. The thought of being around for centuries was almost nauseating.

But I had plenty of time on my journey home to think about what had transpired between me and the Night Mother and Astrid. Astrid wouldn't really disregard an order from our mother patron would she? That would be madness. She wanted what was best for her family, of this I was certain. I just hoped she realized what really was best.

Travel weary, I let out a sigh of relief once I walked through the black door. I was very much looking forward to some hot soup and a bath. I had hardly made it down the stairs, however, when I was intercepted by our blonde mistress.

"We need to talk," she said, tone leaving no room for argument; not that I had any.

"Of course, Astrid. What is it?" I responded, pulling back my hood and letting my braided hair fall over a shoulder.

"Look, something is happening here. I am not entirely certain what this something is, but…well, we need to find out. If the Night Mother really did give you an order to talk to a contract, we'd be mad to ignore it."

I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes. I had been on board from the start. But Astrid continued, oblivious to my thoughts.

"And I think we both agree, Cicero's brought quite enough madness to this Sanctuary."

Fair.

"So go. Go to Volunruud. It's a crypt, pretty far to the northeast. Talk to this Amaund Motierre. And let's see where this leads, hmm?"

I was pleased at this turn of events, but did my best not to reveal this. I nodded, went to collect my payment from Nazir, ate some soup and decided to forego my bath. I could wash up quickly tomorrow and I needed my rest for my journey north. Another long journey immediately sounded less than enjoyable, but I had a responsibility now apparently.

So, the next day, sore backside and all, I packed my things and was on my way. I wasn't fond of the snowy terrain and skies that I found as I traveled north, but at least I'd thought ahead and brought a fur-lined cloak with me. Still, I had some grumbling to do as I rubbed my hands together for warmth and walked through the iron doors of the Volunruud crypt.

The skeletons and bones that decorated the crypt really set the atmosphere. I could still hear the howling winds outside as I descended further into the crypt, but I was otherwise surrounded by silence.

I wondered why this Motierre had chosen this place to meet with me. I was well aware of plenty of sites we could have spoken at privately; sites that weren't in the far north. Sites completely absent of snow. These dramatics had better be worth it. In the spirit of being dramatic, I kept my face completely hidden beneath my hood and behind my mask.

Amaund Motierre was definitely a noble; that was obvious from my very first glance at him. His clothes probably cost more than an average laborer made in a year. His hair was well-groomed and his hands were clean and uncalloused. And he was not alone.

As the noble in question approached me, I caught sight of a man leaning against a far wall. There was nothing particularly notable about him, save perhaps his obvious muscles. Judging by his outfit, he was either military or ex-military. Probably the latter, as I pinned him as being Motierre's bodyguard.

"By the almighty Divines. You've actually come. This dreadful Black Sacrament thing…it worked."

I almost shuddered at the excessively arrogant voice that was undeniably used to getting its owner's every desire. I remained silent, making a show of assessing him, though I had learned everything I needed to in just my first glance. But it had been a very uncomfortable trip and I felt he should share that discomfort.

"You have opened the door to darkness, little man," I finally said, watching to see if he squirmed.

To his credit, Motierre seemed unconcerned. "Oh, I know. I know. But I'm so glad you're here. Please, allow me to state my business. Surely your time is as valuable as my own. I would like to arrange a contract. Several, actually. I daresay, the most important work your organization has had in, well…centuries."

Interesting. "Go on."

"As I said, I want you to kill several people. You'll find the targets, as well as their manners of elimination, quite varied. I'm sure someone of your disposition will probably even find it enjoyable."

Oh he was good. Must be a politician.

"But you should know that these killings are but a means to an end. For they pave the way to the most important target. The real reason I'm speaking with a cutthroat in the bowels of this detestable crypt. For I seek the assassination of…the Emperor."

My shock and surprise quickly overwhelmed my contempt at being referred to as a 'cutthroat'. He was asking us to assassinate the Emperor…of Tamriel!? But I was certain to hide my surprise and keep my composure.

"Leaders rise and fall. Business is business," I replied, voice even and detached.

"You have no idea how pleased I am to hear that," the man nearly sighed. I could see relief pass over his face and his shoulders droop. "What I ask is no small thing, of course. But you represent the Dark Brotherhood. This is…what you do? No? You must understand. So much has led to thai day. So much planning, and maneuvering. Now it's as if the very stars have finally aligned. But I digress. Here, take these. They need to be delivered to your, um…superior."

Part of me wondered if I should be offended I was not pegged as a superior. But I supposed, the head of the organization wouldn't be doing the groundwork, would they? At least he wasn't a dumb man.

Motierre now snapped his fingers. "Rexus. The items."

In response, the bland man at the back of the room came forward and handed me a sealed envelope and a jeweled amulet. It had a very distinct design, though I did not recognize it.

"The sealed letter will explain everything that needs to be done. The amulet is quite valuable-you can use it to pay for any and all expenses."

Pocketing the items, I gave Amaund Motierre a nod before departing. The entire way home, the items seemed to burn a hole in my pocket. My curiosity was begging me to look at the letter, but even if I resealed it, Astrid would know I had opened it. And I certainly did not need Astrid thinking I was trying to overthrow her authority again. That was enough of a deterrent to get home with the seal intact.

"You're back. Good," Astrid said in way of greeting as I descended the stone steps within the Sanctuary. "All right, so? Did you meet this Motierre? What did he want?"

I was looking forward to Astrid's response. "Motierre wants us to kill the Emperor."

There was a distinct pause. "You're joking."

Hiding my smirk, I fished out the letter and the amulet, passing them into Astrid's gloved hands.

"What's this?"

"The letter explains it all. The amulet is for expenses."

"By Sithis, you're not joking," she said with a hint of disbelief. "To kill the Emperor of Tamriel…the Dark Brotherhood hasn't done such a thing since the assassination of Pelagius. As a matter of fact, no one has dared assassinate an Emperor of Tamriel since the murder of Uriel Septim, and that was two hundred years ago…"

"Surely the Night Mother wouldn't misdirect us," I hedged.

"No, she certainly wouldn't. And…for whatever reason, she chose to relay Motierre's information to you. I don't know exactly what's going on here, if you're the Listener, or this is some fluke or what; but what we now have before us…"

"So we'll accept the contract?" I asked, thankful my hopefulness wasn't expressed in my tone.

"You're damn right we'll accept it," Astrid said with obvious delight. "If we pull this off, the Dark Brotherhood will know a fear and respect we haven't seen in centuries. You think I'd abandon an opportunity to lead my family to glory?"

I mean…she almost had but whatever.

"But this is all so much to take in. I need time to read the letter, and figure out where we go from here. And this amulet. Hmmm…"

I could hear the gears turning in Astrid's head. I could sense her confidence and wisdom and authority. This was the Astrid our family so revered. The fearless leader planning our rise to glory. Even I felt my respect for the woman grow.

"What are you thinking?" I asked.

"I'm thinking we need that amulet appraised. I want to know where it came from, how much it's worth, and if we can actually get away with selling it. And there's only one man who can give us what we need- Delvin Mallory. He's a fence, works out of the Ratway, in Riften."

"We're acquainted," I smiled. It had been some time since I'd seen the man. The memory of his heavily accented voice filled my head.

"Good. Bring Mallory the amulet. Find out everything you can, and sell if he's willing. He'll offer a letter of credit- that's fine. He can be trusted."

Astrid handed me the amulet and I stored it in my travel bag. I'm sure Astrid would prefer I set off as soon as possible, but I was tired and sore. So instead, I bypassed her and found members of my family in the hub of the Sanctuary, where we kept our alchemy and enchanting table and small library of choice books.

"How are you doing, Babette?" I asked, glancing over her shoulder.

She didn't answer at first, her concentration fully set on the mortar and pestle before her; but when she was finished, she pivoted to greet me. "I'm just working on a new poison, I just can't seem to get the paralyzer right."

"Have you tried the netch jelly Gabriella brought home with her from her trip?"

A pensive look crossed over her young face. "No, I don't think I tried that. Thanks, Eydis."

I nodded.

Having a family was still new to me. Having people to come home to, who cared for your well-being, to connect to…it was both comforting and terrifying. Love had never worked out for me in the past. And having someone to love meant having someone to lose. So I distanced myself emotionally from my colleagues. Even if seeing them after a long journey left contentedness in my chest. I bid Festus hello as he tinkered at the enchantment table, noted his "hmph" and went off to bed.

"Well, well, well, what 'ave we got here?"

"Has your arse moved from that seat since I've last seen you?" I smirked, stepping out of the shadows and into the dim lights of the Ragged Flagon.

"You're lucky you 'ave a pretty face or I'd cut that sharp tongue out," Delvin Mallory's gravely voice quipped back.

I slid into the seat across from the man. "Can't do certain things without a tongue."

Delvin chuckled at this and I smiled.

"Aye, lass. You're a sight for sore eyes. What brings you to this classy establishment?"

"Business actually," I answered, resting my feet atop the table. I fished into my pocket and held out the amulet. "What can you tell me about this?"

The man took the jewelry dangling from my hand and examined it with practiced eyes. Eyes that widened slightly a moment later. "Where oh where did you get this? Don't answer-I don't want to know. This is an amulet of the Emperor's Elder Council. Specially crafted for each member. Worth a small fortune. Ain't somethin' you'd give up lightly."

Small fortune was good.

Delvin took a large bite of the bread in his hand, chewing thoughtfully. "Look, it ain't my business to tell the Dark Brotherhood its business, but if you killed a member of the Elder Council, you'd better belie-"

I cut in. "Will you buy it?"

"Buy it? This? An Elder Council amulet?" a sly grin spread across his harsh features. "Oh yes. Oh yes, indeed."`

Delvin rifled through a few pockets before pulling out a small piece of parchment. He glanced on the inside, nodded to himself, folded the parchment and handed it to me. "Here, a letter of credit. Usable, by Astrid only, for any service or item I can provide; as per our standard arrangement."

"Much obliged," I commented, pocketing the parchment.

"You've come a long way, eh?" Mallory leaned back in his seat, palming his piece of bread. "From priestess of Mara to lady of death."

"Don't get sentimental on me, Mallory," I snorted, reaching across the table to grab a grape off the man's plate.

"Just admiring," the man winked. "Give your lovely mistress my regards."

"Give Brynjolf my love," I responded, popping the sweet fruit into my mouth.

"I'm sure he'd like it if you did so in person," Delvin's lips twitched into a smirk.

I huffed a laugh. "Yeah, I'll bet. See you around, Mallory."

As per usual lately, Astrid was waiting for me just within the Sanctuary. Arms crossed over her chest, she leaned against a stone wall. "Good, you're back. Well, what did Mallory have to say? Is the amulet authentic?"

"Quite," I said, removing my hood. "And made specially for members of the Elder Council."

"The Elder Council…" I watched as Astrid pieced together the clues. "Now that explains quite a bit. Motierre, you naughty, naughty boy. Hiring the Dark Brotherhood to help you rise beyond your station. Delicious. Was Mallory willing to buy the amulet?"

"More than willing," I retrieved the parchment he'd given me and handed it over.

"Splendid. Then we're ready to begin. Or, more specifically, you're ready to begin. After all, you're the one the Night Mother spoke to."

I blinked in surprise. "Me? Really?"

"Oh yes," Astrid smiled. "So I hope you have something nice to wear. Because you're going to a wedding."

"A…wedding?" I hated weddings. "There better be ale."

"I'm sure there will be," Astrid waved a hand airily. "It's bound to be a lovely affair. You'll mingle with guests, eat some cake, stab the bride. Oh yes, you're going to kill the bride."

And…that was the story. That was the tale of how I found myself staring longingly at my growing pile of books, Astrid's words echoing in my head. Kill the bride.

Everything had changed in the past few months. Something within the Brotherhood had shifted. But I was excited and more than ready to make all of Skyrim, hell, all of Tamriel, afraid of our presence. We were about to rise back to the top; and I was going to put us there.

Author's Note:

Welcome! I've had this story idea floating around in my mind for years now. Now that pieces of it have been completed, it was time to find out if I had the audience. As this chapter set up the story, it was dialogue heavy and involved directly quoted conversations (insert reminder that I do not own Elder Scrolls), but more original content is to follow.

Thanks for stopping by!