The night was cold and lonesome. Thorunn hadn't expected the absence of Ulfric to feel like the absence of a weapon, and she'd been carrying one of those constantly ever since she was seven years old. Commander Maro had been generous- or rather, desperate -enough to allow Thorunn and her companions to sleep within the Outpost for the night. The beds were hard and prickly, made from straw, but Thorunn adjusted quickly. It wasn't until very recently that she had a taste of a comfortable bed, anyway.
She and her squad of two slept in the cellars among the other Penitus Oculatus agents. Thorunn laid awake for some time, thinking of her betrothed, and the dragon's egg, and the future that lay ahead. After hours of unrest, she got up to light a torch without regard for the other figures trying to sleep. She hung it above her bed and, after that, had no trouble falling asleep.
But the sun was relentless and rose early still. Goat horns sounded from outside, the morning rise. Tinsley and Niket were already eating breakfast when Thorunn rose from the steps, heavy-lidded and messy-haired. Commander Maro had no food in front of him, only a bottle of untouched mead. She had a feeling that many of his mornings since his son's death consisted of the same appetite.
Her companions were bickering already, so she joined him instead of them. For a while, they said nothing to each other while Thorunn chewed a piece of charred jerkey and sipped at a cup of warm, honeyed mead that melted on her taste buds.
"I never took you for a Stormcloak," Maro said finally, soft-spoken. No hostility was audible in his tone, surprisingly. The Penitus Oculatus were the sworn protectors of the Emperor, savagely loyal to the Empire. The outpost in Dragon Bridge was the only outpost they had in all of Skyrim. It was a wonder they remained at all now that Ulfric was crowned.
"Why is that?" Thorunn inquired, tracing the rim of her mug with her thumb.
Maro smiled hardly, not raising his eyes. "You seemed so loyal when first I met you. The morning you left, I kept thinking, 'if one woman in all of Skyrim is loyal to the Empire, it will be that one.' I never was a good judge of character, I suppose."
Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "Evidently." she snapped. "I am loyal to my country, not to your Empire. They were never supposed to be in Skyrim in the first place."
Maro shrugged, picking at the cork on his bottle of mead. "Perhaps," was all he uttered. His tone showed no real interest in the conversation and Thorunn dropped it, her pride slightly wounded but not broken.
His opinion on her loyalty would not matter when a crown laid upon her head. More minutes passed, nothing to occupy the silence beyond the crackling of the hearth and the quiet chatter of the other inhabitants. When the third goat horn sounded, marking the third hour of the day, Thorunn brought up what she'd came here for.
"Tell me all you know of the Dark Brotherhood in Skyrim," she asked of him.
Maro cleared his throat, leaning back in his chair. "They preside in Falkreath, though we cannot touch them without the passcode to the great stone door that guards their hideout. The door proposes a riddle that we do not have the answer to, and it is the only thing standing between us and their annihilation. Their leader is a Nordic woman by the name of Astrid. She is as slippery as the night, I tell you."
Falkreath lingered in Thorunn's thoughts. Her hometown, the burial place of her parents and her three stillborn siblings, the residence of all her childhood friends now grown. She swallowed the dread seeping into her heart. "What else?" she pressed.
"Their contracts are delivered by the Night Mother to what they call a Listener," Maro continued. "Up until recently, they did not have a Listener, hearing of the Black Sacrament through rumor alone. I'm not entirely certain who this Listener is, but I know that they are the direct killer of my son and Vittoria Vici."
The nobody, Thorunn thought, though she didn't voice that thought in particular. "I met him at the wedding," she said. "He was a Nord, slender and dressed in black. After piercing Vici with an arrow between the eyes, one of his lackeys showed up. An Argonian."
"Pah, it makes no difference. They'll all die the same. We need to devise a plan before they strike again."
Thorunn thought quickly on her next move: Ulfric never explicitly stated that the letter from the Emperor was not to be shared, and he had implied that she could use whatever resource she needed to get the job done. "The High King may be able to bring the Emperor here to Skyrim. If he is truly their target, it would be easy to lure them out."
"We will not use the Emperor as bait," Maro stated matter-of-factly.
"Then I suggest you propose a better plan, and fast."
He went quiet as he thought. "We wait," he said simply. "and we pray. That is all we can do."
Thorunn's anger began to flare. "I will not sit ducks while my kinsmen's blood is spilled at the hands of assassins," she spat. "The Blue Palace has civilian hands clawing at it for a chance to spit at the king's feet with the notion that the Stormcloaks murdered Vittoria Vici. This matter needs to be resolved now."
She should have expected this. An Imperial would leap at the chance for the Stormcloaks to be implicated. Commander Maro most of all, being one of the Emperor's chief lackeys. Of course, she fumed. Of course.
He merely looked at her, which made her fingers twitch with the urge to punch him. "Patience is something you should become acquainted with. If you believe you can handle this better, by all means, but do not involve me in your recklessness."
Thorunn stood up with enough force that her chair fell over with an ear-ringing clank. "Call it what you will, Imperial. Tinsley! Niket! We leave now."
She marched out of the building, punching the door open while flanked by her scrabbling kingsguard. She already had all the information she needed. "We're heading to Falkreath immediately," she said, not looking to see if they were listening. Aegetha stood tied up to the post, waiting patiently. He didn't object when Thorunn hoisted herself onto him.
"B-But m'lady, we're not equipped well for such a long trip," spluttered Tinsley as he got onto his steed.
"But m'lady, we're not equipped well for- shut up and ride," Thorunn snapped.
He did just that.