FALLING STARS
The Dragonborn
She has the knife at his throat. Frankly, in the last few days with him, it's felt relieving to have Ulfric Stormcloak in such a position of weakness. Even if he doesn't know about it. He was good and drunk with drink and potion. His head keeps lolling backwards but she keeps it nice and steady. It was good to keep up such appearances with your adversary.
The bitch was across the way now. Glaring at her with one hand on her sword and the other held out in front of her. Next to her was the other pathetic wolf and the buffoon himself.
"If you harm a hair on his head, you will be struck down without mercy." Galmar promises.
She smiles sweetly, "By who? The guards? They're sleeping. By you? You can barely hold your axe correctly." She muses.
He repositions his hands over his battle axe. Someone is self-conscious.
"Let him go." The male werewolf growls.
"Ah, but we haven't talked yet." The knife cuts deeper into Ulfric's neck, drawing only a drop of blood.
She watches as the female wolf looks from him to her chained companions. This is priceless. The Night Mother wonders what good grace Sithis has bestowed upon her, for her to stumble on these other wolves in the fields of Whiterun.
"Ria, if you wouldn't mind?" Her lip curls when she addresses the mage next to her. Babette is nothing but efficient, she sent the first mage here she could think of. It turns out the girl is resourceful. She scraped up no mere mage. But one of the supposed pupils of Divayth Fyr, one of the great sorcerers to walk Tel Fyr. The Dark Elf was a vampire herself, after shunning society to take up necromancy. She will no doubt see many great mages through her long life.
"What shall you have me do?" She asks the Night Mother now.
It also helps that she was instrumental in using the moondial as a lock and key for the Daedric Princes. There is nothing Ria cannot do. Including using the minds of the wolves in this very room.
"Them. Make them rise and fight." She stays where she is.
Ria raises her brow at the remark but does not interject. The wolves at the table go still. She sees the female wolf flinch at this, then soon, they are rising. No more are they writhing in pain and agony from their chains. They stand up without another word and turn.
"Fight you say? This shall be interesting." Ria murmurs before reciting the words to another spell. Her hands glow purple and white as she moves them in a semi-circle to complete the mind control that is almost unheard of. Mages were nothing if not dramatic.
"Vilkas watch out!" The female wolf screams as the others descend upon them.
The Night Mother watches the scuffle with bated breath. Will the wolves not under Ria's control fight them? Or will they surrender as not to hurt their friends? Galmar seems to be the only one without a conscience. He slashes out with his battle axe. It's swinging right down for one of the wolves…the one who seemed interested in magic.
"No!" The female wolf gets in the way to defend him. As anticipated.
"By the gods, you know they want to attack you!" Galmar yells at her.
"I won't let you hurt Aerin." She pants. She holds her sword up to fend him off, along with her other fist.
The Night Mother's eyes narrow. "Capture them." She commands.
Ria nods, and soon the other wolves are taken down without much of a fight. Galmar is forced to surrender as well. With the other wolves still in chains and now towering over the three imbeciles, Ria turns to the Night Mother, "What would like me to do with them now?"
What a question. Could she really choose? If she wanted, she would have all the wolves on a spit and watch the bitch scream in the pain of it before cutting off her head… "Take them to the dungeons. I have some questions that only the sharpest of objects can help answer."
"You won't get away with this, you bitch! I knew you were trouble the moment you stepped into the Palace." Galmar spits at her. She gives him a quick kick in the ribs. He goes down groaning. The captives sit around in a circle, in the piles of hay. The other wolves and Ria line the perimeter of the room and the Night Mother is at the center of it all.
If she had it her way, she would be in the Castle with her better equipped torture chamber. But beggars can't be choosers now, can they?
Sometimes all one needs for a little torture is a small blade. She twists it in her hands, just as agile and controlled as the first times she learned to use one. She prowls among the captives, snaking her hand through each of their hair. Her fingers curl through the male wolf's lovely auburn locks. It is getting quite long.
"Don't." She hears the female wolf whisper. She couldn't do much, she was bound and ungagged for the moment. Better to hear her screams with.
"I will do as I please. It is only fitting after you did such a thing to me." She motions to the scar on her chest. The female wolf looks away. She sees the beginnings of tears in her eyes.
"It will be over quickly. Even more quickly if you tell me where those Artifacts are hiding." The Night Mother pulls on the man's hair, bringing his head back and exposing his lovely neck. Her knife trails down it.
"I don't know." The woman says.
"You are lying. You've been lying from the start." The Night Mother digs the knife into the delicate skin. She feels the male flinch beneath her.
"I honestly don't know. They ended up in Sovngarde. Why not check there?" The female wolf pleads.
"You know I am not that foolish, the Aedra do not wish for such things to taint their land! It was cast out with you and last I saw, it could meld into your skin. Now where is it?"
The woman doesn't say anything. Just lets her eyes dip to the ground. How pathetic.
The Night Mother is quick. She slices the knife with cool efficiency. The woman screams when the male falls to the ground in a puddle. The smell of blood begins to fill the air.
"I told you there would be consequences if you didn't answer all I need to know." The Night Mother pierces the woman with her gaze. She kicks the man, and he groans, showing that the cut was only superficial at best.
The woman's breathing is irregular. She glares at the man then to the Night Mother herself. "Go to Oblivion and never come back." She hisses.
The Night Mother is on her in seconds. She slaps her so hard; her teeth go rattling. Her nails dig into the woman's cheek. "Shall I give you a scar to match mine?" Her knife dips down to the only exposed part of the woman's chest. It's not low enough with the armor covering the rest of her, but they could start somewhere.
"I'd like to see you try." Is the reply she gets. It's not good enough.
"Fine then." She drops her to the filthy floor, reaches across the way, and pulls the other male down to her. This was the one she had locked in the Castle. His screams were delightful.
She breaks one of his bones, in the forearm, nothing too dangerous. He cries out in pain. Even under mind control, he can still plead. But it was better to have more of an authentic show. "Release him." She commands the mage.
He goes down panting. "Mjoll. What happened?" He says before the pain interferes. He moans and falls into the hay. The Night Mother steps a delicate foot on his lovely head.
"Now, where are the Artifacts? I will not ask this again, and I will not miss. You might want to tell me and save this pretty man the pain of getting his brains bashed in." Her foot comes down, putting pressure on his temple. She can just hear him gritting his teeth.
The woman only has eyes for the man on the floor. "Don't." He tells her.
"I have to, Aerin." She cries, "I can't leave you to this."
"Well?" The Night Mother puts a little more pressure on. She feels him jerk beneath her.
"In my room. Below the bed." The woman says immediately. Quite the liking she's taken to this wolf here.
"Be more specific. I checked there. Why didn't I see them?" The Night Mother snaps.
"Because they're invisible. I can see them but no one else can." She says this with her eyes on the man now motionless on the ground.
"Careful. He's a magic user." Ria reminds the Night Mother from the sidelines. This only elicits a knowing look from her. One that tells her to shut up quickly.
"Can anyone lift them?" The Night Mother goes back to the task at hand.
Her question has no answer. The woman just watches the man below the Night Mother's boot, and she begins to cry. It is awful to watch. Her eyes are that horrible yellow that all wolves have, they focus and unfocus, the pupils are constantly thinning before enlarging. It is something of a horror story.
"Focus! Can anyone lift them?" She nearly yells. How she wishes to slice this woman's face off. Another time perhaps.
"Night Mother." She hears the mage butt in again. She turns her head to snap at her, but Ria jerks her head towards the door. "Up there. I heard a clattering near the glass sword when they were taken in."
The Night Mother releases them. She takes her boot off the male. This only prompts the female to fall all over him. Quite the awkward thing to see if you were the lover. She glides up the Palace steps to enter the banquet hall. On the other side of the carnage, and directly across from a still sleeping Ulfric, is the glass sword.
A clattering right next to it… she falls to her knees and begins to scan the carpet with her hands. There is nothing here. Nothing at all, just air. If Ria was playing some sort of trick, she will no doubt come to regret it.
The Night Mother is beginning to think of all the ways to repay her for such a foolish idea when her hand brushes something. The hilt of a sword. When her hand clasps around it, and she stands, it blazes to life.
She raises her hand up to show the sword better in the light. It's a short sword, golden and flaring out near the hilt to hold the most beautiful of embers. It scatters to produce shadows all over the room, leaving the Night Mother in its golden glow.
She smiles, this is just the beginning and Dawnbreaker was the perfect Artifact to start with.
Hours later she is pulling the boards apart. Throwing the splintering wood around the room like it's nothing. Underneath, she finds the edge of the Castle, it's barren but she decides to be more careful in her search. Instead of looking in any nook and cranny, she moves her hands just a few inches above the ground.
She feels many of these sacred weapons. All in one place.
"Are they there?" Ria asks from the doorway.
The Night Mother pulls out one after the other. The Mace. The Mail. A Masque. Spellbreaker. Most of them are here in this room.
"Not all of them. We need to search the wolf. Make her bring the rest out." The Night Mother turns her gaze to Ria. The Dark Elf is wincing at this. She knows what it's going to take to get all those Artifacts, and it won't be pretty.
Night fell, long after the sun had set The Night Mother is lounging in his arms. Ulfric brushes some stray hair from her head. His skin is warm beneath her and ever so ripe.
"You haven't been very talkative." He mentions. His hand trails down her throat towards her bare chest. She opens her eyes slightly.
"I am just happy."
Ulfric chuckles. "Is that so? Was tonight all you wanted it to be?"
He is no doubt referring to the grand dinner they ate, her with blood and him with…whatever feed he wished for. He is also referring to the sex. But she's never grown more bored. He still doesn't know his best man is locked away in the dungeons with the wolves. One of them is bleeding so profusely, they damn near skinned her alive for those Artifacts.
The man must be obtuse, because he cannot see what lights her face up in that "glow" that people talk about when around women. Usually, it is referred to them when they are with child. Or marrying the love of her life. The Night Mother feels happiest when all that could destroy her is in this very room. Safe and sound.
Surrounding them, on cupboards, desks, chairs, tables, sit all fifteen Daedric Artifacts. Sixteen if you count the Masque and Axe of Clavicus Vile. They were all there. The Night Mother turns her head slightly. Ulfric mistakes it, thinking she wants to be petted on another part of her head.
She just wanted to see them. The Star that the wolf and Eve so desperately tried to take her soul in, sits in the center. Near it, the Mace of Molag Bal. Dawbreaker catches her eye as well. The only one missing is the Ebony Blade.
Her lips thin at this. She knew that Eve still had it. She was probably running around somewhere with it strapped to her back or impaling someone she doesn't like with it. The Night Mother tried to have Ria direct it from the wolf's skin. Certainly, it could come through if it was in there once before.
But the action was fruitless, the woman was spent and nearly bled out. Still healing all the skin she had lost. The Ebony Blade was nowhere to be seen. Not that they would never find it again. This prompted her to send a letter to Babette, commanding some of the Brotherhood go look for Eve, even if they had to search high and low for it.
His hand runs down her shoulder to her waist. "Tell me, what was your favorite part about tonight?" He asks her.
She had too many wonderful moments. Things she could not part with. She certainly couldn't say that one of them was the look on the buffoon's face when she had her knife to Ulfric's pretty neck. She couldn't tell him of when she cut the female wolf down to nearly an inch of her life to bring out all the Artifacts. And she didn't' want to tell him of the discovery down in the wolves room, just below the baseboards. She wanted to keep that a secret for now.
"Your lips on mine." She muses and looks up at him through her lashes.
"Are you sure?" He asks above her.
She nods, trying to hold her laugher back. She didn't want to laugh at him. She wanted to laugh at everyone for thinking her so stupid. Of course, she would find all these Artifacts in due time. And to have the ape of a right hand to Ulfric locked up in chains with the wolves was icing on the cake. No one to barge in and try to put the wedge between her and the Jarl. She will make sure of that.
His lips come down on hers, so soft, so beautiful. She wonders briefly, what they would feel like over her rotted ones. If he were kissing her corpse, it wouldn't feel this way, it would be coarser, harder to mold what you wanted out of them.
His hands run down her body, pausing for awhile on her most intimate parts before he rolls back from her. "I feel like I need a drink." He sighs.
She laughs, she feels the same way. "One moment."
The bed is tall and large, so it takes longer than she would want to rise from it. Since the wine and blood were on the other side of the room, she decides to don her very modest red robe. There was a slight chill in the air tonight. More so than usual.
Her quick footsteps bring her to a table filled with platters of food and pitchers of drink. "Red or white?" She calls to him.
"You choose." He tells her. She sneaks a glance at him and finds he is quite attractive in this lighting. Ulfric lays in bed with the sheets over his lower body, his bare chest shows a collection of scars and strength. He has his hands behind his head, holding him up to give her that lazy smile. It's as if they have all the time in the world for this foolishness.
She decides on red. Right as she's pouring it, she feels it. A strange stabbing sensation in her chest. Her eyes flutter to the Razor next to her blood goblet. It's shining in the moonlight that sifts through the window, but it doesn't move. It can't jump from where it sits to fit right into the scar on her chest. She was merely feeling the fluttering of…what was it called? Lust? Giddiness? It has been too long since she's had such a relaxing evening, she nearly forgets her own goblet.
As her hand paws for it, she finds something strange. It should be picking up the goblet but it's moving right through it. It's as if her hand had turned spectral. She watches it and has to set Ulfric's wine down to really look at it.
Her hand is fading. Beginning at the fingertips, it begins moving all the way up her arm. She holds out her other hand and finds the same thing. By Sithis, what would this mean?
The freezing air blows through the widow, nearly taking out the candlelight with it. She shivers. That chill…she hasn't felt it in so long.
Her eyes are saucers as they look out into the vast world beyond. But instead of Windhelm teeming with Elves and Nords alike below her, she sees the darkness. The Void is stretching out to her.
She looks to her hands again and finds they are gone. As if they were nothing. "Ulfric." She says, she turns to give him one last look. His languid pose is gone. He is now alert and rising from the bed quickly. His eyes show panic. He says something to her, but she can't hear him anymore. All she feels is the cold seeping in.
The wind is roaring here. Blowing over the vast wheat field to brush every strand as if it were part of a canvas. The land could be considered a work of art. It is a place some people speak of, but many do not know of.
Sun-kissed hills spread out for miles, bordered by two high peaks. It was harvest season, so plentiful wheat has been growing for months. They stand tall enough that even she can barely see over the fields and beyond to the clear blue skies.
She doesn't move. Doesn't cry out or fear. She just peers over the towering yellow field to find it. In the center of this fertile ground, it sits. The small, rickety, house in the middle of the small clearing. One might call it quaint. One might stumble upon it and believe it to be the house of a humble couple. How wrong they would be.
When the wind blows through, taking the wheat fields in every direction and scattering the fattening clouds above, she has to blink tears from her eyes. She was in a place she never thought she would be again. A place with as many precious and beautiful memories as there were nightmares. She was home.