Hi. I am alive. And so is this story. I probably should have finished this chapter first before uninstalling Skyrim. Sorry for the cliffhanger. Enjoy.

"You're sure he's inside… there?"

What's 'there'? Rean could honestly not tell. His finger pointed at the swirling black… something… that was blocking the entrance of the cave. The mass pulsated under the dim lanterns, before retching and vomiting up a pool of slime.

Celine nodded, unfazed. "Pretty sure."

The hell? Careful not to make any sudden movements, Rean shot a side-eye at his companion.

In that same instant, the tunnel reverted to its normal appearance. Dark and cold, but more welcoming than what it had been before.

Rean blinked. Celine wasn't one for jokes. Didn't she see it? From the way she was acting, it wasn't a baseless assumption. Or it was just his imagination. A hallucination by his exhausted mind.

"...Stay close, alright?" Rean said, to calm himself more than to assure the girl beside him. Whatever it was, it would be best to stay on guard. Celine responded with a tight squeeze of his hand.

They stepped into the tunnel.

Their first echoed deep inside, hollow and lasting.

The second one made no sound, muffled by the deep snow.

By the third, the door closed behind them.

As he took his fourth, Rean gripped the hilt of his blade.

Fifth… a wretched voice whispered in his ear.

" — Greetings, Dragonborn. — "

Who…?!

He wanted to yell— to run his sword through the speaker. But his mind and body were not his own. He couldn't move. Time itself warped around him, forced into a crawl against a mystical force.

The voice continued to speak.

" — I am Hermaeus Mora. I am the guardian of the unseen and knower of the unknown. I have been watching you, mortal. You, and your little pet. — "

Rean gulped and glanced at a frozen Celine. He realized exactly what the voice meant.

They know.

" — Curious. How fascinatingly curious mortals you are. You... are an anomaly, an aberrant, an unknown. You are not from these realms… None of it. — "

Black, slithering tentacles dripping with grease sprouted from the walls of the tunnel. It encircled them, like predators poised to strike. Rean could only watch in panic as one tapped Celine's cheek.

" — An alien that has broken all convention and barriers of my knowledge. A deviant that has cut the strings of fate and of destiny. And you have come here… to me. — "

'Leave her alone!' Rean shouted in his thoughts, as hard as he could.

The voice laughed in response.

" — Fear not. I have little interest in the girl. However, you are far more riveting… — "

At the same time, the tentacles surrounding Celine doubled in number. It was going to use her as a hostage.

To what end?

"— Your power… You do not know the reason, yet you faintly remember.. The demon that possesses you which you have failed to understand… —"

'No…'

Anything but that.

The tendrils split into microscopic threads and grasped Celine by her neck. Closer, tighter, cutting into her skin. Rean knew that it would take less than a second for her life to be snuffed out.

He wanted to scream.

"— Ah, but I am… patient. — " the voice said.

The tentacles withdrew their garrote, and time flowed again normally. Rean barely caught his senses flooding back to his tense body.

"That's him," Celine pointed out, unaware of the danger hissing and coiling behind her.

The voice spoke again, chilling and apathetic.

"— The man you are about to meet, Septimus Signus, is obsolete to me. He served me well, but his time has come to its abrupt end. — "

Rean shakily held the grip of his katana, his tongue frozen to the bottom of his mouth.

"— Dispose of him, and I shall let you leave. For now… — "

Legs numbing from underneath him, Rean charged forward. His face was paralyzed into a blank stare even as his hands were covered in blood. It was hot, like scorching magma. Celine screamed at him in complete shock at what he'd done, yet he could neither express remorse nor mourn the man.

None of it compared to the fear— the terror Rean felt from the disembodied voice. No monster, no supreme being from Zemuria could instill in him the same sense of panic or anxiety.

And it didn't stop.

"— Splendid — though it is remiss of me not to mention my disappointment. — "

What?

" — Your will to fight fate, broken from a mere tug on the threads of life. How… boring. — "

Then...

" — Don't make a mistake, however. — "

The voice blackened with malice, enough to petrify Rean in place. Shadows dancing from the flickering lamp nearby encroached upon them, covering his vision in darkness.

That darkness… smiled.

" — I am still… morbidly curious. — "

Countless tentacles erupted from the icy floor and surged towards Rean. Celine gasped, horrified.

"Watch out!" she yelled.

...But it was too late. The tentacles impaled Rean with their needle-like ends. It contorted his body, more and more until the joints started to creak. He screamed, unable to bear inhumane torture any further. Another tentacle propped around Rean's neck. He was at its mercy— could only beg for it to end the suffering as soon as possible, as the tip aimed directly at his forehead.

Whatever reprieve he had hoped for was dashed when that tentacle harmlessly phased through his skull.

As if a vacuum, his memories came in a flurry. Rean remembered everything. His family. His home. His beloved Thors ravaged in a bloody civil war. About Erebonia and Calvard, and Zemuria as a whole.

He remembered his precious classmates, how they fought alongside him no matter the circumstances. He saw their smiling faces while they boarded the Courageous, acting as if it was a class field trip.

Their eccentricities, their hobbies. Their dreams and their tribulations.

He remembered Valimar. His partner and most trusted weapon. He remembered Crow, his betrayal, and how, together, they fought atop the Infernal Castle.

A sharp pang speared his gut as the Divine Knight Testa-Rossa skewering him mercilessly. Rean remembered that too. He watched in anguish as his classmates fled from him, hesitant to watch him bleed out. Then again, fresh blood gushed out of his stomach. He was reliving that neverending nightmare. The nightmare of his death.

Then came the headache. The intense, hateful energy centered over his heart. Rean couldn't resist it— his mind and body were too much in pain for him to do much else except scream until his throat gives out.

It echoed hellishly. Agonized cries as the demon inside him awakened. His watery eyes looked to the only person left that could stop him and he prayed to Aidios that somehow, Celine would be safe.

Moments after, he blacked out. And when he came to, he was standing above a corpse.

Septimus Signus'... or rather, what was left of him.

Rean glanced around, raggedly panting at the claw marks gashing the floor and walls. The strange yellow mechanism behind him had been burned charcoal black and embers from what used to be books flittered through the smoke.

Dragonsbane laid shattered to pieces by his feet.

"Stay… away... " a tiny voice pleaded. Over in the corner, Celine was hugging her knees tightly with tears streaming down her cheeks. Her robes were tattered on the floor, and she was bleeding profusely from the myriad of cuts lacerating her body.

Crying through black and blue eyes, she glared at the monster before her. Her haughty demeanor was completely gone, leaving only a frightened child shaking uncontrollably.

Rean couldn't meet her gaze. He fell to his knees as the voice of the Daedra Hermaeus Mora laughed in his ears.

" — Wonderful, wonderful! Never have I seen such power. The sheer brutality of it. The way you harness and wield as if it was your blade. How utterly, truly fascinating. — "

'Please…'

" — Ah, but the circumstances do not call for further study. That time will come, so do keep me interested, Dragonborn. I'll be watching you very carefully… — "

'No more…'

" — Until we meet again… Rean Schwarzer. — "

The world around him blurred, and it took a moment for Rean to realize that it was his eyes adjusting to the light. The oppressing darkness had receded, bathing the room in the subtle blue hue. Rean slumped to the floor, mentally and psychologically drained.

Celine whimpered and tucked herself smaller in her corner, her will broken, if not her bones. But alive. Thank the Goddess.

The frostbite and the pungent smell of a dead man served as a reminder of where he was now. In an ice-cold and brutal dead end.

There was only one thing Rean could say after all that. The one thing he desperately needed the most.

"... I need a drink."

Or ten.

Drip.

Ten hundred. That was the ten hundredth drop that leaked into her cell. As usual, it fell in the tiny puddle that nine hundred and ninety-nine of its brethren had created. The dungeon was underneath Whiterun's canal, so that tiny puddle was her only source of drinkable water.

The guards do give her plenty, but it had been days since she drank from a cup that wasn't laced with drugs. Sniffing out toxic substances was something she grew accustomed to in her line of work, no matter how diluted it may be. The guards most likely were trying to sedate her if she had to guess. Stop her from struggling while they did whatever they wanted with her body.

As if they cared. It wouldn't be the first time she felt someone cop a feel on her while she slept. It wouldn't be the last time a poor sod learned what will happen if they did.

She could still smell the char coming from their burning corpses.

She couldn't sleep, and she can't eat or drink. That small puddle was her lifeline, cooled and sanitized with a simple application of fire and frost magic.

Another drip. Ten hundred and one. Fie blinked.

What does it matter, anyway?

It's been days since she was arrested. Days since she massacred an entire city guard by herself. It had been days since they locked her up in the dingy cell.

And it's been days since she's seen Rean.

Why didn't he come to visit her? She burned down his house and killed his housecarl. Logic dictates he should be mad— furious, even. Didn't he want to see the murdering bastard suffer?

Did he not care at all?

What was he doing? She just wanted to see his face. Even if Rean wouldn't forgive her, at least she would know it was him. That he was real. That he was in this hellhole with her. That was enough.

So why…?

"Why…"

Why let her suffer like this? She's never been used to uneasiness. If Rean doesn't come, what will she do? If he does, what can she do?

Will he even recognize her?

That thought alone was worse than the death penalty.

"Ahhh…"

No good. She was getting an attack again. It itched her skin. Her nails dug into her cheeks, and she scratched at it furiously.

Why wasn't Rean coming to save her? Why doesn't he care about her? Why, why—

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh—!"

She was alone. Alone.

Alone again.

She screamed.

A bang on her cell door snapped her back to reality. No, not a bang. A knock. A deliberate and slow triple knock. Fie recognized it.

Before she could even answer, the door unlocked by itself. It swung inward soundlessly, and from the entrance glided in a shadow with blood-red eyes. A dark elf— or dunmer, in Tamriel tongue.

"A fine evening, sister," greeted the shadow. Its voice was elegant and womanly. The dunmer pulled her hood down, revealing ash-colored skin and black hair.

"Gabriella…" Fie said, almost inaudible due to her parched throat.

Noticing it, Gabriella handed her a suspicious-looking waterskin. After taking a couple of whiffs of it, Fie chugged it down and instantly felt her throat lighten up. It probably had some powerful healing remedies mixed into it, a feat not impossible with the proper know-how.

"Astrid thought that your time in naughty jail is just about up," Gabriella said, chuckling at the state of the cell Fie was in. She looked particularly pleased with the stack of bodies smoldering in the corner. "I've come to fetch you, as per her request."

Wiping her lips dry, Fie glared at her 'sister.,' only half-believing what Gabriella had said.

The thought did cross her mind. The Dark Brotherhood was a group of cold-blooded assassins, led by a fanatic at best. They may be brothers and sisters by oath, but Fie would handily doubt that they wouldn't backstab each other if it were for their own benefit.

Why would Astrid send her, a relative newbie, to assassinate someone like the Dragonborn when so many have failed before? That had been enough to keep her on guard, but Fie still took the risk. She was thankful she did, and as a result, she was willing to trust her instincts more than her 'family.'

Fie knew. The Dark Brotherhood knew that she knew. So what changed?

Gabriella addressed her skepticism with a nonchalant reply. "The current situation permits that you will continue to serve the family. If I were you, I would take it as Sithis himself smiling favorably upon us."

"And if I refuse?" Fie asked, earning a scoff from the dunmer.

"Then feel free to rot in this cell, or perish in the gallows. You decide."

It really wasn't much of a choice. She wanted to see Rean again. That's all she cared about right now.

"Ah," Gabriella added. "Don't fret over your failed contract. Astrid has seen it fit to resolve the issue regarding the Dragonborn."

Did she mean—

"He lives, despite what you may think. Our client wanted him disposed of for financial reasons— which no longer applies thanks to a… generous sum from a benefactor of ours."

As if to emphasize her point, Gabriella swiped half a dozen or so septims still tucked in the pockets of the dead guards. Flicking the coins through her fingers with ease, she flashed a grin that suggested 'no more questions.'

That was if their word was trustworthy. Still, Fie sighed in relief. Rean was safe for now— all she needed to do was find him again.

"Such a catastrophe that befell Whiterun," a vivacious Gabriella said. "Attacked by dirty vampires in the middle of the night. All the poor guards, massacred."

Ah, so that was it. Pin the murders on a random vampire attack. That was one way to get the law off her back.

"...Tragic."

Fie felt herself smirk at the crudeness of it. Effective too; there were hardly any witnesses, to tell the truth. They were all dead in a ditch somewhere. That was the assassin's way.

"Who's this benefactor, then?" she asked, choosing her questions carefully. It was clear that the Brotherhood would leave her in the dark on how its operations ran. Fie couldn't help but feel curious.

She did not expect Gabriella to answer her so directly, turning to her with her arms spread wide. "A man of great stature, from a family of even grander riches." Gabriella pointed at her. "Rest assured, he will like to meet you. You are the centerpiece of his master plan, after all."

"Me?"

"Yes. As if Sithis and the Night Mother willed it so."

"When?" Fie asked, masking her wonder under a veil of stoicism.

Gabriella shook her head. "Soon. Your work takes priority, however."

Business as usual, then. Taking it as her cue, Fie nodded slightly and stood up. While the Brotherhood could betray her at any time, the opposite rang true as well. In the end, loyalty was their own. If faced with a choice of Rean or her makeshift 'family,' she wouldn't hesitate. And if they decide to get in the way of her and her Rean… well, the Dark Brotherhood knew exactly what she was capable of.

"There is one question he wanted to ask of you, though," Gabriella said, pulling her hood back up and sauntering out of the cell. There seemed to be a suspicious lack of guards— or anyone else— for that matter.

"Our benefactor?"

"Yes." This time, Gabriella's voice turned grim and quiet into a secretive whisper. Fie leaned in close to hear.

"What do you know about Elder Scrolls?"

Rean's part takes place right before the start of Fie's contract in Whiterun, in case you forgot. Which you probably did. Again, sorry for the cliffhanger. I've been meaning to write this for so long and yeah.

I'll make a general update about my status in the next Dark Prince chapter. I'll try to update all my stories as fast as I can.

Reviews, favs and follows are appreciated.

See ya.