Fun fact: This was supposed to be published 6 days ago and as it turns out, I never got around to the publishing phase. Sorry about that…

Anyway, I hope you enjoy

-=]I[=-

Azalea had gone through many contracts, but none had been ordered by a dragon. She supposed there was a first time for everything, but for the first time, she stopped to consider: had the killing gone too far?

No. There was no need to hesitate. If she so much as faltered, everything would be at stake. And now, in these darkening times, her thirst for revenge was so great that she would go to any lengths to achieve it, even if it meant losing any morals she had left. If she had any morals left.

What had been her last "good" deed? It must have been before Mercer. His death, although justified, wasn't a virtuous act. Infact, it was yet another revenge mission. Perhaps it was before she came to Skyrim… earlier than that, even.

Had she ever really been a good person? Most of her actions were motivated towards self-preservation, she never really cared about anyone else. It didn't matter. In Alduin's ranks, kindness was synonymous with weakness. And she couldn't afford to be weak.

Several Stormcloak encampments dotted Skyrim, usually sparsely guarded as the generals prepared for an assault. But now, with the peace treaty coming so soon, the guard had been doubled, making this mission more difficult than it had initially been.

Excellent. A challenge. Azalea's art of stealth was unrivaled, and sneaking by even the toughest of defenses was little more than child's play for her. Doubled defenses for a Stormcloak base would be slightly more difficult, but wouldn't pose too much of a risk. After all, their army was sparsely funded and wasn't properly trained. The only thing they had going for them was their passion, and as the war went on, even that had begun to dwindle.

The first step of her mission was making it to an encampment. The one in Falkreath seemed easy enough to access; it was in the middle of the woods and wasn't as protected as the base in, say, Haafingar. Azalea had it marked on her map, as well as any potential obstacles on her way.

It was a bit of a march. Azalea couldn't bring a dragon, it would attract too much attention. And Shadowmere, although fast, wasn't very stealthy. The huge pine trees towered above her as she walked, casting jagged shadows around her. Torches faintly shine through the branches, flickering in an almost jolly manner. Her lip curled in contempt. She didn't care for the whims of the mortals, and now, she saw just how futile the civil war really was.

The war would be lost and won, one side would emerge victorious. Yet the only thing they accomplished was losing more lives in the process. The gears of the world would continue turning, and it wouldn't be long before another war, another conflict, and it would continue like that until the end of time.

Well, it wasn't long until the actual end of time. Once she had helped Alduin regain his strength, the mortals wouldn't stand a chance. There would likely be one final war, one final stand against Alduin, but it would be futile. Their resources would be wasted fighting each other, their numbers whittled down by their former companions. And then… it would all be over. Azalea's final goal would be accomplished.

The sun was sinking rapidly, and Skyrim's moons became more prominent as the sky darkened. Azalea crouched down next to a large pine, watching the sky. It wouldn't be long until twilight fell, and she could sneak in. Most would think that midnight was the best time to strike, but the moonlight shone brightly, and its beams could ruin an otherwise perfect heist. But twilight was different. The moons were not yet bright enough to risk her cover; the sun was below the horizon. And what little light that was left helped blend the world together in a pool of shadow.

Azalea gazed at the sky, watching the moons, Masser and Secunda. She's always loved their light, less harsh than that of the sun. When she was a girl, she dreamed of traveling to the moons. She would stay up late at night, staring at the sky, dreaming of going up there in a Dwemer machine. How silly those past aspirations seemed now.

The last rays of light faded from the sky, and the murky blanket of twilight covered the land. Azalea straightened her mask one last time and slowly approached the camp. The Stormcloak soldiers there were laughing and drinking, unaware of Azalea's presence in the forest. She sneaked around the camp, finally spotting the forge, the dark outline of the anvil barely visible. There were three soldiers there, a little too close for comfort. Azalea drew her bow, a wicked-looking daedric creation. Black spikes and glowing red designs only added to the haunting appearance of the weapon. She nocked a simple iron arrow and pulled the bowstring. Time seemed to slow down around her as she slowly slackened her fingers and sent the arrow flying into the woods, away from her and the Stormcloaks.

"Did you hear that?" One of the soldiers stood up, looking around wildly. A few of them drew their weapons and moved towards the sound. Perfect. The forge was left unguarded. Silent as a shadow, Azalea snuck over to the crafting station. She grabbed a cuirass and a helmet, which was all she needed. Gauntlets and boots didn't matter; she could simply wear something stolen from the corpse of a bandit.

"An arrow?" A voice carried through the trees. Shit. They'd already found the projectile, and were running back to camp. Most likely they'd be on the lookout for the source. Azalea crouched behind the anvil, racking her brain for an idea. Finally, she peeked out, taking note of the Stormcloaks. They had fanned out and were searching the area, making escape almost impossible.

They were getting close. Too close. If possible, she wanted to avoid conflict. If they found her, everything would be over.

There had to be something she could do. She had a potion of invisibility, but it wouldn't be entirely effective. Chances are they'd see her, especially if they were as alert as they were now. If only there was some way to lure them away…

Azalea mentally kicked herself. Of course. How could she be so stupid? A shout she'd learned while investigating Shearpoint. The translation was a bit difficult to decipher, but she got the gist of it. A way to throw her voice, and lure away enemies. She glanced back at the soldiers. No time to lose. Summoning her thu'um, she whispered under her breath "zul mey gut."

The shout reverberated from a clearing across the camp, echoing in her voice "hey cheese-brain!" Azalea stifled a laugh as the soldiers charged towards it in outrage. She slipped away in the chaos, quietly making her way down the road. Step one was complete. It had come close, but it was complete nonetheless.

-]I[-

The road to Windhelm was not a pleasant one. The further north Azalea traveled, the colder it became. Despite her nord blood, she still despised the cold city. It was freezing, quite literally. There was a reason why the only wildlife there were frost trolls and other animals who were specially adapted to live in the cold.

When the city finally came into sight, Azalea practically sprinted there. She was dying for a bottle of mead, and for once related to the town guards who constantly commented on having one. She posed he heavy doors open and stumbled inside the city, heading directly to Candlehearth Hall. She tossed the bartender a small pouch of gold septims (which were probably stolen) and collapsed into a bed, falling asleep almost instantly.

Azalea didn't remember her dreams that night, but woke up sweating and shaking. Perhaps it was better she didn't remember.

Yawning, she changed out of her night clothes and into the Stormcloak armor she'd stolen before. It fit her a bit loosely, but clothing sizes were the least of her concern.

The Palace of the Kings wasn't hard to access, especially when she was wearing the armor of Ulfric's army. It was simple to slip in, and the Jarl's quarters were easy enough to access. Ulfric was too busy plotting his "liberation of Skyrim," and didn't notice someone sneaking into his room.

Azalea did her best not to disrupt anything in the room, rummaging through the drawers and placing everything back neatly. She did grab Ulfric's coin purse, out of habit. She realized that currency wouldn't be of much concern to her, but old habits die hard. After five minutes of searching, she finally came across a letter on Ulfric's desk, signed and ready to be mailed. In all honesty, it shouldn't have taken her that long. For Talos' sake, it was in plain sight, yet she had decided to search every wardrobe and chest. She was a professional, but obviously not perfect.

Ulfric's hand didn't differ too much from her own, which made it easy to forge a contract in his hand. The letters were messy, printed out rather than in cursive, and ink blots dotted the page. His signature wasn't too difficult to copy either, the letters weren't too stylized, and it was in the same rough hand as his writing. Within minutes, she had forged a hit on Elisif's head. As simple as forging ledgers, back when she was with the Guild.

She snuck back downstairs, bidding farewell to the guards of the palace. In all honesty, it was a bit too easy. In her time as a thief and assassin, she had become addicted to the thrill of the chase, constantly craving more challenging tasks. But in these times, simplicity was a blessing.

-]I[-

The hold of Hjaalmarch was massive, and it wasn't easy to navigate. Vast swamps, lakes, and rivers made the land a wet mess, impossible to trudge through.

Surprisingly enough, Azalea's first stop wasn't the city of Solitude, but rather, an abandoned shack. The very same shack that Astrid had hauled her away to, after she'd passed out in the Flagon's cistern. She smiled faintly, recalling the time when she'd first met Astrid. She remembered the look on Astrid's face when she killed all three captives, a mixture of pride and amusement.

As she remembered the kills, she realized that it wasn't the deaths of everyone she loved that set her on a murderous rampage. It was simply her nature: cruel and unforgiving. She always had put herself above others, determining herself the one who chose who lived and who died. It was her fatal flaw: her lack of compassion.

But enough digression. She had to store her belongings, and the shack seemed the best place to do so. She carefully folded her Nightengale apparel and placed it on the bed. Removing her mask, she placed it on top of her armor. It stared back at her, and she was tempted to put it back on, to become the Dovahkiin once again. She turned her back and headed out the door, her sights set on the city of Solitude.

-]I[-

Azalea found herself staring at the Blue Palace, the guards leering at her. The blue fabric on her cuirass made her a bit of a spectacle, especially with tensions rising between Stormcloaks and Imperials. But the requirements for this were that she had to be caught in the armor with the contract, and she wasn't about to risk her master plan because she didn't like the looks she was getting.

The inside of the Blue Palace was as spotless as ever… for now. It wouldn't be long until the white walls were stained red. The Blade of Woe was concealed in the fabric of her cuirass. All Azalea needed to do was get in close.

The group inside stared at her as she approached the throne. Falk Firebeard was the first to speak.

"Why are you here, Stormcloak?"

Azalea smiled, walking closer to them. She was within range of Elisif, but she needed it to be perfect. If the Jarl didn't die, it wouldn't fill Tullius with the rage he needed to attack Windhelm. Or perhaps it would, and her bloodlust was taking control of her once again. No matter the case, she needed to spill blood.

"I'm here to deliver a message, from Ulfric." Azalea pulled the contract out of her pocket, making sure it was folded and sealed. It was imperative that they didn't see it, not until she was right next to Elisif. A nightshade flower was stuck inside the folded envelope, out of tradition. Azalea always left nightshade next to her targets. It wasn't a mark, nor was it mockery. It was her way of saying farewell, her parting wish. While it was her task to end their lives, she loved each and every one of the people she killed. Maybe it was twisted, but to her, it was her way of apologizing.

She handed the letter over with one slightly trembling hand, reaching inside the cuirass with the other. As Elisif took the letter, and the court turned their attention towards the Jarl, Azalea pulled the Blade of Woe out of her cuirass. She lunged forward, slashing at the throat of Elisif the Fair. The letter and flower tumbled to the ground, and Elisif was dead before she hit the floor. Immediately, the steward, wizard, guards, and thanes turned upon her, weapons drawn.

Azalea's initial plan was to get arrested, but it was clear that she wouldn't be allowed to live if they caught her. She sprinted out the door, sheathing her weapon as she charged down the road of Solitude. Arrows whizzed behind her; clearly the guards had been alerted. An arrow caught her in the shoulder, causing her to stumble. The doors out of the city had been locked, but they had neglected to attend to the very same exit she had used after killing the false emperor. She pushed past the people at the East Empire Trading Company, who were… bewildered... to say the least.

Azalea dove into the water below, and began swimming as fast as she could towards the shack. The armor was heavier than she was used to, and the wound in her arm was slowing her down. By the time she had made it back, the army behind her had gained on her.

"Shit," Azalea muttered under her breath, pulling herself onto the dry land. She kicked the door open, destroying the already rusting lock. Once inside, she grabbed her bow, quiver of arrows, and armor. The Legion soldiers were surely close her at this point, and she needed to make a quick exit. Rearing her head up towards the sky, she harnessed her thu'um and cried out "Od Ah Viing!"

It would take a little while for Odahviing to reach her, if he chose to show himself at all. It was a gamble, and the soldiers were getting closer. Azalea crouched behind the door of the shack, taking cover from any incoming arrows.

They were getting closer, she could hear the clanking of metal armor, the pounding footsteps. Would they ever give up? Nocking an arrow, Azalea held her breath and prepared to shoot. Her hands were trembling with anxiety, and the throbbing pain in her shoulder made it increasingly difficult to keep her aim straight. She needed to concentrate, needed to focus the stress into her arrows. Leaping out from her hiding spot, she attacked. Time around her seemed to slow as she loosed five arrows in quick succession, sending each one towards her marks.

The first three arrows landed in the throats of three men, killing them instantly. One other hit one of the Imperials in the stomach, causing him to double over in agony. The final hit a soldier's kneecap, sending him stumbling to the ground. Azalea drew another arrow, but dropped it on the ground after being forced to dive back behind cover.

By Sithis, it was like the whole Legion was after her. Her arrows could only hold the soldiers back for so long, how long until they would overpower her? She didn't have many options. Surrender didn't look like an option, either; they were bound to be out for her blood.

Azalea's hand hovered over a daedric arrow. If she didn't have any other options, the strength of the arrows might be able to take down one apiece. But there was always the potential of another foe, an issue more pressing than a group of Imperial soldiers.

Damn. This would be a pretty good moment to be one of those mages who could take out whole rooms of people in a single blow. What she wouldn't give to have one of those staves that harnessed the elements of fire, frost, or shock.

Well, it wasn't of any use to continue hiding. The dwarven arrows in Azalea's quiver needed to be used eventually. Azalea jumped out again, preparing to send another stream of arrows out at her foe.

The arrows pierced the wind, flying with incredible speed towards her marks. But before they struck their targets, a blast of fire engulfed the remaining soldiers.

"Dovahkiin, we fly together."

Without a moment's hesitation, Azalea leapt onto Odahviing's scaly back. The remaining soldiers were screaming in agony as they slowly burnt away, while those who had been smart enough to jump in the water called after her in anger. Azalea felt no remorse for them. After all, they were trying to kill her moments before, were they not? They, like all others, deserved to die. She turned away from the battlefield one last time. She wasn't concerned about any of these men returning for her. After all, it was almost nightfall, and these marshes were notorious for their vampires. Perhaps they would finish the job for her. It didn't matter. They would die eventually, whether it be at her hand or someone else's. The ground grew further and further away as they ascended, and Azalea was carried away into the clouds, her mission finally accomplished.

-]I[-

The first thing she did when she returned was to don her Nightingale apparel, and slip the mask back over her face. The Stormcloak armor might come in useful later, so she stowed it in her little cave. The second thing she did was to return to Alduin, and report to him the success of her mission.

Alduin seemed pleased with her. Tullius has called off the truce and was preparing for battle against Windhelm, and Ulfric was prepared to defend his city of stone. The Civil War had been rekindled, and the Imperial Army was no longer a threat.

Azalea glances at her dagger, still wet with blood. Silently, she pulled a ragged cloth, covered in dark streaks and stains, out of her pocket. She cleansed the blade of the red smears, holding it up to the moonlight.

The absurdity of the whole thing was its simplicity. One swish of a blade… one woman dead… was that all it took to set off the reaction that would ultimately result in the end of time itself? But that wasn't the most frightening thing. Far from it.

The thing about Azalea… the thing that Astrid had always looked down upon… was the fact that she loved her targets. Not in a lustful manner, not in anything permanent. No, she was in love with the idea of her targets. She knew that a mortal life was as unique as a snowflake… and as fragile. It was the reason she left flowers with her victims, the reason that she took care to make their deaths as painless as possible. There were a couple exceptions, but they were never official contracts.

But now… after the events that had just transpired… there was another exception. When she killed Elisif… when she had staged the assassination… she hadn't been sorrowful. Hadn't been apologetic. She had enjoyed it. And, in all honesty, that alarmed Azalea.

What had happened to the little girl who would break into houses for fun? Who would gaze at the moons and dream of touching the sky? What would she think of Azalea now? Because, if her feelings about today were really true, she was a cold-blooded killer. A ruthless machine, designed only for revenge. Dangerous. Cruel. Bloodthirsty.

Well, it didn't matter. It wasn't any use to be forming bonds with mortals, or caring about the deceased. They would all be dead by the year's end, anyway. And what an end would it be, not only the end of a year, but the end of an era. The age of the Dovah was coming once again. Nothing would stop them now.

-=]I[=-

Alright, gonna be honest here, this took me way too long to write, edit, and publish. Seriously, I've been trying to manage this, two other stories, and also a story I'm helping my friends write (I think I mentioned that before? I don't know.) But anyway, I hope you're all enjoying the story so far.

Now, let's address these reviews! Chendong2698, we'll just have to see what happens to Paarthy. In all honesty… I don't really know. So far, there are like five possible outcomes that I'm looking into, maybe more. Random Guest, thank you, I'm trying. JDLENL, I already addressed you in the last chapter, but thanks again. Possibly Gigan, I KNOW RIGHT?! All of these characters who think they're the most important person on Nirn, when in reality, the true being of power is the Dovahkiin. Don't even get me started on Nazeem. Invalidtale and redfan90, glad you enjoy it thus far!

I think that's it for now. See you guys later!

~Silver