THE SHARPEST BLADE

The Dragonborn

When she thinks back on her long life, the Night Mother believes the Void was her birthplace. It is the birthplace of all, the cradle of the world, but she believes she was born directly from it. Not with a soul from the Aedra. Not one to corrupt by the Daedra. She is just one with the Void. A servant of Sithis, and maybe, an equal.

He sits with her in the Void. She can't touch him. Can't see him. Cannot smell or hear him. But she knows he is present.

Why do you leave me so? Take me from my plans? I only wished to serve you.

He is silent. She doesn't expect anything so silly from him like that false man who stood before her in the forest. It was easy to see a Daedric Prince was sporting the illusion that Sithis actually loved her. She knows he does, but it is a different kind of love than one would think.

It is not mundane. It is not a kind of love that makes one sacrifice themselves for another. It is the kind of feeling one has for something they have created. Pride. Disappointment. Concern.

You were made to serve me and serve me well. You have done so.

She ponders over this. In her long life, she never really expected to be taken back into the Void. Never really wished to live with Sithis in a long life of nothing. He knew this too. They were bound together, but never destined to be together.

What do you want of me? She asks.

To let go of this idea of conquering Nirn. Someone would get in your way eventually…

You know I'd have them dead. I had the Daedric Princes gone from Mundus. I can do it again. No one would touch me.

He is silent. But someone will. You are not invulnerable to attack. You exist in a plane that other's exist in. They can fight, steal, lie, conquer. You do it well, but there will be a mistake eventually. I cannot have you trapped in some soul gem for eons. Without souls, the Void with cease to exist.

She knows that is not true. It would exist. No doubt he would start pulling in the souls of Daedra to sustain the Void itself. You lie.

I do not. I would bring in the divine. But once the Aurbis is gone, there will be nothing left. I need to be sustained. And be sustained in such a long and drawn-out way instead of getting them all at once. You do not feel a horse their week's full meal at one time, do you?

She feels where he is going with this. I was not going to send them to you all at once, you know that.

I do. But it is foolish to risk it.

You don't trust me. She breaks into the heart of the conflict before he can take her down another useless path.

He is silent. Contemplating. I do. But not like this. You are not yourself.

She remembers those eons in a coffin. Only seeing the world from afar and the only people to converse with were her Listeners. Sithis asks something silly, Were you tired of your Listeners? Is that why you went walking this path?

No. Her answer is fierce, I only wanted to serve you. Your word is heard by me infrequently. I barely know what you wish.

It is not for me to converse over time. I am to give you what you need when you need it.

There it was. That indifference. She could feel it. Like he wished he could care, but how could one care when they weren't anywhere near mortal? She sits in the silence and slowly wonders if she were putting human emotions on this. She was lonely. Tired of the fools she commanded. The only person to hear her and aid her had abandoned her for centuries. Only to bring her back here for a pep talk.

She supposes that is what is to be expected from an integral part of the universe. It was her mistake to see Sithis as a god. As a soul. He was more than that. Something that could create and was necessary for life. He was the soul of primordial deity. It would be foolish to think she could bring out emotion in such a creature.

You were lonely. Sithis states.

She says nothing, for once, embarrassed by her feelings. Maybe. Maybe not.

Yet, you have a gift. You speak to others over centuries.

She remembers her favorite Listener, Alisanne. She was sweet. Endearing. Easy to follow. She actually conversed with the Night Mother from time to time and fought to her death defending her. Eve was anything but. She was harsh. Brash. Uncaring. Smug. Treated everything like folly.

I suppose so. She says. What is it you want me to do? Give up?

There is a dark laugher that sounds throughout the Void. A rippling that she can feel over her skin, over her whole being. No, my Blood Flower. I want you to fight. I will aid you. You will end up where you need to be. I will guide your path…

Light pierces her gaze with startling clarity. She screams as it blinds her momentarily. Her eyes hurt so. Her body is falling, her limbs flailing. But she wakes up standing in the center of Solitude. Surrounding her a fleet of Stormcloaks. Near her is a whimpering Eve clutching onto the pathetic jester. She also notices Ulfric at the helm with a grim expression. Galmar next to him with a smug one. Further down some repulsive blue creatures' leap and bound around a man wearing a helmet made of Chitin armor.

She tries to calm her racing heart by locking her eyes onto the Jarl. "You. I knew you would be here. Did you miss me, Ulfric?" She tries to grin in a menacing way, but she can feel the sides of her mouth wobbling. What a weak façade. "You missed how I warmed your bed?"

He shakes his head sternly, "No, Night Mother. You will now pay for your lies and for what you have done to Skyrim. It now belongs to its sons and daughters, and we won't stand aside for you to harm us further. Your Castle is gone. Your Brotherhood is broken."

He says it as if she should be shocked by this, but she is not. She knew the Dark Brotherhood would flounder without her lead over them. Her eyes dance over the crowd, near Ulfric stands the wolves.

She smiles, "Lovely. I had a feeling you would try this again."

The bitch stalks towards her. Her body is covered in Daedric Armor, just like in Sovngarde. She holds that gods awful dagger in her hands. "I wish for nothing more than to correct my mistakes." She says with ice in her voice. Such a tone could cut deeply.

The wolf lunges for her, the razor at the ready, that gleaming dagger sails through the air. But someone gets in her way. A shadow launches forwards to stop her. Eve blocks the blow with her Ebony Blade. The Night Mother for once, is shocked. Before she gets her bearings.

She lashes out with electricity. The lighting snakes it's way through the Stormcloaks. They scream with the flickering purple and white light surrounding them and pull their weapons. Some disintegrate without much resistance. Others fall into battle before her. Getting so close she can feel the swipes of their blades on her.

Her Children defend her. Cicero and Eve dance around her, avoiding the lighting and saving her from a fate of swords riddling her person. She grins with this. She didn't know Eve would help her. But she knew Sithis was doing well with his promise.

"Why?" Mjoll screams at Eve, "Why do you defend her?"

"Because we need him to do it." She points behind her. The wolf looks over the Night Mother's shoulder, over the commotion of men fighting and electricity engulfing the courtyard.

"Mother. I love you." Cicero whispers behind her. She turns just in time to see him look up above, up to one of those walls Eve crawled on when she was going to kill Vittoria Vici. There, stands a man in robes, his mask is unmoving and his eyes focused solely on her.

"Betrayer." She growls. The man releases his hold on the arrow he had drawn. It flies to her before she can hold her hand out to consume it. When it pierces her heart, she feels the poison setting in. She screams and throws all the power she can at the man after breaking the arrow from her chest.

He fights back. Sending all the magic he can at her. Fire and ice and electricity. But she was lucky enough to hit in just the right spot. He falls, his form fading to ashes from her simmering power. She keeps sending as much magic as she can at him. What a foolish person. He never knew what great heights she would reach. She keeps off all the Stormcloaks she can. In the commotion she doesn't see it. She feels Eve next to her.

"I would say I'm sorry but I'm really not." She says with such calmness. The Night Mother's frantic eyes find hers. Then the Razor plunges into her chest.

The Night Mother falls with the storm. It goes away in a burst of power, folding into her body before bursting out, when she hits the ground. The sparks soon dissipate and the Stormcloaks cease the sounds of their fighting. The Night Mother looks up to Eve's unflinching golden gaze.

"You know we are bound until death you and I? My Listener's feel what I do." She gets those words out and has the brief satisfaction to see Eve crumble before her. She too, falls to her knees holding her chest. Where the wound has begun to fester.

"Enjoy Oblivion you wrench. You deserve nothing less than the torture you will find there." The Night Mother laughs at her Child. Cicero is near her. Tense and indecisive.

She keeps her eyes on Eve. The girl is dying. Screaming in pain even as her lover comes to aid her. It will do little. The Night Mother feels the poison along with the wound spreading. She just watches her Child. She hates her. Wants her to suffer in such a horrible sense. But she also can't help that small maternal instinct. If only Eve were like Alisanne. She thought maybe one day, she would get five Listeners. Five of the best, one after another. And they would make up for that horrible atrocity she committed that one day so long ago.

And even watching Eve, she feels she had the potential. The dying girl could have done well. Could have aided her. Maybe she did. She helped her walk Nirn, for what little time she could. She helped the Night Mother speak to Sithis once again.

She laughs as she collapses to the ground, unable to keep herself up with the pain and weakness spreading. The lover is screaming at Eve, trying to keep her awake and the blood from spilling from the wound. The Night Mother moves her hand over the dark cobblestones to brush some hair from her Child's head. "Eve." She says softly.

The girl opens her weakening eyes to her. Only for her. Not her lover. Not Ulfric. Not the bitch wolf. Just her Mother.

The Night Mother smiles, "Thank you."