Random Author's Notes: I've only received a few reviews, and I'd appreciate more if you've got something to say. I'm nearly finished with this story (part One, anyways) and then I'll go back and revise a few things that needed revisions. Expect the next few chapters to be excruciatingly long. And I mean that in the best of ways. I've been reading too much R.A. Salvatore... I think it's affecting my own writing.
Aedenrel was in one of the worst moods she had ever been in. As she made her way towards Bruma, her mood kept growing darker, until her thoughts were surrounded with malice and hatred, all centered around Aaron. How dare he refuse to tell her the truth? Who did he think he was? She'd even told him that she was going to find out, one way or another. And she intended to make good upon her threat. Of course, after a few drinks and general partying. Maybe she'd kill a few people, just to make herself feel better. So what if there was a bounty on her head, and a law at her neck, saying that she wasn't "allowed" to do that? Aedenrel had never cowered before the Law, and she had long ago decided that she never would.
She ignored the Guard's murmurs as she passed them on her way to the beggar's bedding, frowning as she discovered that no one occupied the disgustingly dirty bedroll. The beggar wasn't there, but she was willing to wait. For a little while, at least. Then heads were going to roll upon the ground. She had waited for no more than ten minutes, however, when the sound of approaching footsteps reached her ears, and she turned just in time to dodge the tripping beggar. He landed with a loud thump next to her on the ground, and rolled over slowly. He was obviously intoxicated, but that was none of her concern. She lashed out at him with her boot, scoring a hit in his side. It made the man wince, but she cared nothing about it. Aedenrel's foul mood made her impartial to other's feelings.
"Tell me where I can find a wizard that specializes in curses. Quickly, if you value your life." She waited for the man's response, her well of patience running dangerously low.
"Try Bravil. There's a wizard there of considerable talents. He goes by the name of-"
Aedenrel finished the mans' sentence with him, her anger growing larger by the second as her features were marred by a frown that grew ever deeper by the passing seconds. "Fathis Aren." Son of a bitch.She stood up then, and took a deep, settling breath. It calmed her nerves just a touch, enough for a dab of compassion to come to her face. She unhooked the gold purse from her belt, and tossed him about a hundred gold Septims. She cared nothing for the gold she held, it meant less to her than the hair on her head. But the man could use it, and if he had saved all the money she had given him over their years of "partnership" he ought to have had enough to buy a house with. She doubted he had, though, as his breath often reeked of alcohol, and he was rarely sober enough to make more than a few sentences. Aedenrel turned, making her way to her next destination.
She was going to the pub, and she ignored the idle chatter and whispers that greeted her when she threw the door wide open, and then slammed it closed behind herself. All eyes turned to look at her, and just as switfly all eyes diverted from her. They all knew what kind of mood she was in, and they all knew better than to mess with her. In keeping their heads and voices low, they ran little risk of setting off her already flaming temper. Which was always good. More than a few of them had seen the effects of her anger, and more than a few of them had witnessed it first-hand. She sat down at an empty table and waited impatiently for someone to come up to her.
"Miss Lex, it's wonderful to see you here-" It was the owner, Olav, a Nord of considerable size. That didn't make him any less afraid of the young half-Bosmer, though.
"Shut the fuck up," she snapped, and set her face into a glare that would have scared the pants off a minotaur. If minotaurs wore pants, that is. "And get me a god damned bottle of Mead." She waved him off with a quick motion of her hand, and he scurried away. If she was going to storm into the fortress of Fathis Aren, she was going into it shit-faced drunk, and she wanted to remember nothing of it.
It was nearly two am when Aedenrel stumbled from the bar, drunk and with six more bottles of the brew in her pack. Shadowmere had never minded her being drunk, though, and she shared some sort of psychic bond with him. As soon as she had clambered onto his back, he had set off, towards Cheydinhal. She planned to take a few of her "Brothers" into the fight with her. It mattered not to the young woman if they lived or died in the battle she was about to wage, and if they served as bait and decoys for her then their existence was well deserved. She owned them, and they would do what she told them to. Or else.
It was only a few hours later that Aedenrel arrived in Cheydinhal and made her way into the Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary. Of course, by then her senses were working again, and she was having coherent thoughts. Later, she promised herself, she would drink another couple bottles of Mead, and renew the numb feeling she favored. As she swung herself down into the well, she landed lightly on her feet, and of course, was greeted by one of the lackeys whose head she had nearly dropped onto.
"Why, Listener, it's s-so n-nice to s-s-see you." The Khajit stuttered, and she glowered at him. He shut his mouth after that, and knew better than to open it again unless she told him to.
"Go get everyone. Now." She crossed the room with confident strides, seating herself at a table in the corner. The Khajit took of at a swift pace, down the stairs to fetch anyone and everyone who happened to be as unlucky as he was. He had a feeling that this was going to be his end. And he had known this day would come, though he had always hoped that he wouldn't be around when she summoned them to go to their deaths. Personally, he hated the fact that she had ever been named Listener.
A few minutes later, Aedenrel was surrounded by the Dark Brotherhood members that happened to be in the Sanctuary. Four novices. They would have to do, she decided. She sat back, and a thin smile crossed her lips.
"Today is your lucky day," she murmured. She didn't have to speak up, as all of them hung on her every word. They admired her equally to their fear of her. "You're being drafted by myself to undertake a contract commissioned and paid for by myself. You'll likely be killed, but I couldn't care less about your fate. You may refuse now, and I'll cut your throat where you stand, before you can draw your next breath. We are leaving now. Try to run and you will be afraid to sleep for the rest of your life. I own this Sanctuary, and I own you. Do as I tell you, and you may yet live."
Their faces were sullen, and they had little choice and they knew it. Aedenrel stood then, and stretched before them. Then, she drew her dagger, and a strange twinkle came into her eyes. She was daring them to defy her, and none of them were stupid enough to do so. Silently, she made her way across the room again, and began to ascend the ladder out of the well. Without looking, she new the four of them were following her..
The Brotherhood had horses, and silently they followed Aedenrel and Shadowmere towards Bravil. The way of the Brotherhood was silence and secrecy, and they made no noise while sticking to the shadows of the paths. In the time it took to get to Bravil, Aedenrel had downed two of her bottles of Mead. She wasn't feeling the buzz, but she knew it would be coming. She wanted it more than any of them knew.
As they approached and rode past Bravil, the tension in the air around them grew. All of the novices knew they were going to their death, and yet they could not turn from the path she had put them on. To go against the word of the Listener... Abruptly, Aedenrel turned from the path, and the sun was coming up over the hills around them. Fear grew in the hearts of the novices, fear of both Aedenrel and the danger she was putting them into. All of them knew they were going to die. All of them preferred to go down fighting as opposed to having their throats slit by their leader.
The half-Bosmer woman dismounted and clicked her tongue at Shadowmere, sending him away from the battlefield. The others followed suit, and drew their weapons, as Aedenrel drew hers. She roughly threw the oaken doors open wide. It wasn't quiet, and of course it attracted the attention of the three Daedroth inside the crumbling fort ruins. The tower of Fathis Aren was already proving dangerous. Aedenrel charged, never one to stray from a battle. Of course the others followed, and it was not long before all three had fallen to the ground. They wiped the blood from their weapons and followed Aedenrel into the tower.
Through the damp halls they charged, slaughtering the companions and guardians of the Wizard. Aedenrel charged ahead of the novices, cutting down anything that happened to cross her path. So far the novices had secured no more than minor cuts and scrapes, and they were grateful for the Listener's apparent battle rage. That is, until they got to the water.
Aedenrel had hit a dead-end, and she knew it. A frown appeared on her face as she peered into the murky and freezing water. She stood ankle-deep in it, trying to hide the fear in her heart. If there was one thing that scared her, it was drowning. In cold water, where no one would find her body. She shivered, alerting the novices to her fear. She turned on her heels and faced them, replacing her frown with a grin.
"We're splitting up. Two of you that way, one of you with me, and the remaining one stands guard here." She pointed at them, deciding to take the Khajit with her. Then she dug in her pack and extracted some amulets, handing one to each of them. "Water Breathing and Communications," she explained. "If you find something, call to me. If you die, I'm taking the amulets back. If you live, they're yours." Turning again, she waded into the water, slipping her own necklace over her head. Then she submerged herself completely, fighting the panic that came when she couldn't see. She whispered the spell for Night-Vision, and swam through tunnels, hoping she was going the correct way.
Her instincts told her that she should breathe, as she swam deeper and deeper into the fortress. She did so, the magic of the amulet converting the water to air. Or had she grown gills? She had never quite understood how that specific spell worked. But as she finally had to re-cast Night-Eyes, she wished she'd never gone in the water at all. Swimming in the bottom of the pool she was exploring was the largest Slaughterfish she had ever seen. It was more than twice her size, and thankfully, appeared to be blind. The thing still had gigantic teeth, however, and that didn't help make her any less afraid of it.
She used a scroll for partial Chameleon, and quickly made her way up to it, slashing wildly at the place where its heart ought to be. The water around her turned red with the fish's blood, but she continued to hack and slash at it until she was sure beyond a doubt that he was dead. That's when she saw her opening, a tunnel leading upwards that was partially obscured by a rock. She hadn't seen it before because of that rock, and she got the feeling that it had been placed there for a good reason. Swiftly, she made her way into the tunnel, silently sending a message to the others.
"I've found it. Go back to the surface and wait for me." Aedenrel hadn't even noticed the Khajit beside her disappear, which had happened as soon as he had seen the large fish. She made a mental note to punish him later as she finally surfaced in the mouth of the tunnel. A large wooden door greeted her, and she took one of the torches from the wall to light her way. By now her Chameleon spell had worn off, but she knew she wouldn't need it. Digging in her pockets she withdrew the Skeleton Key, and began picking the lock of the door.
After checking for traps, Aedenrel swung the door open heartily, and smiled when it slammed loudly against the stone walls. The Wizard was there, poring over some magical tome or another. He turned, though, and met her gaze half-heartedly. She had the feeling that he had known she was coming. He closed the book he was working with, and sighed. His tone of voice gave away what she had already guessed.
"Aedenrel Lex. It's been a while since we've associated. Are you here to steal more of my artifacts, or perhaps to sabotage another one of my experiments? Are you looking for magical necklaces, or journals? Do you seek that which no other would wish to possess? Tell me, Aedenrel, why you have invaded my private quarters once again."
She smiled in spite of the malice she felt rising in herself, and drew the dagger from her hip swiftly. Though Fathis Aren was being friendly the two of them had not parted on good terms, and she knew he had a score to settle with her. The last time she'd visited him, she had been under the orders of a contractor, one that she hadn't known was the Grey Fox, before she had had dealings with the Mage's Guild. Under the contractor's orders, she had stolen an enchanted arrow from him. But she had done so stealthily, and she didn't know he had known it was her.
"I came for answers. And I'll take them from you dead or alive."
The smile that was on his face quickly faded, though he tried to remain confident. It was a game between the two of them. Whoever showed weakness, fear, first was going to be dead in their tracks. His blade was poisoned, but she was swift on her feet. Would he be able to defeat her, if she made a false step? "I assume you're referring to some recently acquired proficiency in Necromancy."
"You know I am. It was by my hands that the King of Worms was slain. I now possess his books, his talents, his staff. If you won't tell me in life, you'll tell me in death. Or rather, un-life." Of course, that was a complete lie, she hadn't been the one to slay the King of Worms. And it was by a complete accident that she had come into possession of the books and staff that had once been his. Still, it was good fortune, and though she had never used the staff or books, she had little doubt that she could. And Fathis Aren didn't have to know she was bluffing!
"What do you want to know?" He moved slowly on his feet, trying to appear confident still, trying to get to the weapon that was concealed under the mattress of his bed. Her sapphire eyes followed him all the way, though her features gave away nothing. A long silence ensued. Did she know what he was up to?
"I've heard you know a little something about Curses. And I'm looking for information on them. I want books, and firsthand experience stories. Spill the beans, or-"
"This is about that Azura damned boy, isn't it? The one that killed my first Giant Slaughterfish, and came here in search of YOU. Only you hadn't arrived yet, Aedenrel. Your friend is blind by your own hand!" He lunged towards her, and adrenaline filled her.
The half-Bosmer maiden dodged, and whirled around at him when he was behind her. Her own dagger was in her hand, but she wasn't quick enough to slash him. She took a hit to the stomach, though the blade didn't pierce the glass armor she wore. Aedenrel kicked at him, and knocked the blade from his hand. She had gained a second, and the advantage, and she shot Fingers Of The Mountain at him, which he absorbed most of the impact of. He didn't appear to be very damaged, however, and she was slightly disappointed by that fact.
Fathis Aren had long been a Mage, far longer than Aedenrel had been alive. He wasn't unused to people coming into his "private" tower and challenging him, but Fathis hadn't ever met someone as stupid as Aedenrel Lex before. She had barely escaped the first time with her life and his enchanted arrow, and now she was back, seeking the reversal for a curse that he had put on one of her "friends." There had only been two survivors, two that had made it out of his Tower alive, and this girl was stupid enough to come in again?
Anger fueled him, anger about every injustice he had ever been served. His hatred of the Mages Guild and their "policy" about Necromancy had long ago driven him from the Arcane University, and he had never quite gotten over his "letter of severance." They had "let him go" a few days after the Lex girl had stolen from him. Somehow everything that happened after the girl's visit had made things turn for the worse. His hatred, his bitter, hollow life had started, and would end with her.
Fathis lunged at her, dagger held high, and she nimbly dodged again. There was nothing Aedenrel liked better than a good fight, and Fathis promised that he wouldn't go down easily. Sticking her foot out, she tripped him, and then laughed aloud when he tumbled to the ground. She didn't move in for the kill, though, because she didn't quite feel like finishing him off just yet. Instead she waited for him to get up, and lunge towards her again. Which was exactly what he did.
He was sweating, angry and pissed beyond all measure. Aedenrel found it funny, and allowed herself a small snicker before she skillfully coated her blade with a poison she had made herself. It would kill him slowly, while paralyzing him at the same time. She wanted to have fun with him before he sank into death. Even if she would only allow him to be dead for a short amount of time. He came at her once more, and this time she let out a cry as she felt his weapon slide between the plates of her green-toned armor, and right into one of her ribs. The pain that whipped through her mind was nearly unbearable, but she fought her way through it, even managing to utter a threat between her clenched teeth.
"You'll pay for that, you bastard." She lunged at him, and effectively nicked his arm, letting the poison from her blade sink in before she withdrew it, and kicked him to the ground unceremoniously. He lay there twitching, and she held her wound, feeling slightly sick. Her hand was covered with her own blood, warm and sticky, and there was a pain there that she knew wouldn't go away for some time. He had cursed his blade, which was something that only Necromancers did to their own things, in the hope that if stolen, they would injure the thief.
Aedenrel picked up the dagger, and threw it into the mortar that held the stone walls together. Her rib ached, and she knew there was some sort of poison leaking into her own bloodstream. But her eyes had fallen upon something that caught her attention fully and refused to let it go; a large stack of books in the corner opposite of herself. Even without having read them she knew what they contained, and she knew they would be helpful in her campaign to lift the "curse" that Aaron suffered from.
The Journals of Fathis Aren hardly fit in her pack, and she didn't want to run the risk of ruining them in the water. But how else could she get out? Especially with the dead body of the infamous Wizard, in case she needed to question him later. Aedenrel had always had a plan though, and she was already making new adjustments as to how she was going to get home. She turned towards the body again, and held out an amulet that she had taken from her pouch. Standing carefully, and channeling Magicka through the ruby token, she began summoning minions to help her escort the newly acquired treasure. A Xivilai appeared, and then a Dremora next to him. Lastly she summoned Daedroth. Aedenrel nearly fell over with the exertion of so much Magicka, but she managed to steady herself by leaning against the bed. With a mental communication, she told each of them what she wanted done, and waved them off with her hands. The Magick of the amulet was powerful indeed, allowing the use to summon as many Daedric creatures as they wanted, but the side-effects were as bad as any poison. Fatigue, and weakness, along with most of her strength and health. The Amulet would be useless after this, she knew, but she had known she would one day need it, and she wasn't upset about losing such a grand artifact.
Aedenrel would need a few minutes to recuperate, and then she would follow her minions down into the watery caverns. Aedenrel felt sick to her stomach, though, and she knew she was going to remain weak for a few hours. Still, the amulet was a great treasure indeed, given to her by Archmage Traven before he went to defeat the King of Worms. Perhaps it was forgetfulness, or perhaps a cruel joke though, that Traven had forgotten to tell her about the amulet's Magicka-sucking powers. Maybe he knew she wouldn't take it if she had known that it would drink all of her Magick power away in mere seconds.
Carefully, ever carefully, Aedenrel wrapped the amulet in its cloth, a black velvet piece of material that was enchanted to negate all magicka-suckings. She had paid more than a few thousand gold for the cloth alone, and so she kept the amulet with her at all times, waiting for the opportunity to use its devastating Magic. She waited and watched her minions drag the dead body towards the water, and she felt slightly better. For an instant, she considered why she didn't just take Daedra on all of her missions, but then she scolded herself a moment later. Daedra couldn't figure out who was friend or foe, and they were no good at taking prisoners. She gasped as the pain in her rib throbbed again, and then it ebbed away like it hadn't been there a moment before. A tricky poison was one used by Fathis Aren.
Ten minutes later, which Aedenrel hoped was adequate time for the Deadra to get the body to her Brotherhood minions, Aedenrel dipped the toes of her boots into the murky water and slipped the necklace of Water Breathing over her head. Stealthily and quickly she made her way through the tunnels, and she found it was easier going back than it had been coming. That was probably because she didn't have to fight a Giant Slaughterfish, though.
As her head breached the water, she greeted her Dark Brotherhood companions with a slight smile, and then pulled herself out of the water. There were her Daedra, all standing pretty in a line, hoisting between them the dead body of Fathis Aren. And then she walked past them. They knew they were to follow her, silently, and not ask questions. They didn't either, until the bright light of the sun greeted their eyes, and Aedenrel discovered that the horses were gone.
She rounded on them more quickly than she had ever done before, with a rage in her eyes unparalleled to even the wrath of the Night Mother. Even the Daedra cowered in fear from her, as she hissed out a few words. "WHERE are the horses?"
They exchanged glances between themselves, but obviously none of them had any explanation for her. And rather than say something, which could lead to their deaths and enslavement, they stood before her, meek and silent. Of all the things to go wrong today, she thought bitterly, the horses would off course leave, and she would have to walk back to her home in Frostcrag Spire. Unless... A smile came over her lips then, and she turned to the Khajiit, the one who had disappointed her earlier.
"You there, Khajiit. Go in to Bravil and acquire more horses. Steal them if you must, but get them here quickly and quietly. I wish to be home before sunset. Go." She waved her hand like a queen would do to a peasant, and off the Khajiit went, scurrying towards Bravil, which truly wasn't that far away. Aedenrel sat on the ground, watching the others around her. They were nervous and leery of her, and all she wanted to do was go home. She was certain that she had the answer to Aaron's curse, she was certain that given enough time, she would be able to fix the damaged that had been done. So where the hell was Shadowmere?
Sometimes the horse liked to wander off, that she understood. The mare was just as wild as any other wild beast on the face of Tamriel. But she got lonely, she missed her old master, Lucien, and sometimes she left to go visit the place where Lucien had died. It made Aedenrel slightly sad, and slightly annoyed to think about it. The horse had abandoned her, but for a good cause. How long had it been since she'd last visited Lucien? Far too long, she mused.
The sound of hooves broke her from her thoughts, and she found that the Khajiit had indeed followed her orders, at least this time. Aedenrel mounted the largest of the horses, a white stallion, and motioned for the others to do the same. She was about to slap the reigns when one of the Brothers handed her a necklace.
"You dropped this, Dear Listener, while we were in the tower." Aedenrel didn't take the time to inspect the trinket, she simply put it into her pocket and figured she'd put it back on later. Of course, she couldn't have known it wasn't hers, and she couldn't have known that the Tower itself was conspiring against her. So Aedenrel and her followers made their way back towards Frostcrag Spire, so she could further unravel the mystery behind Aaron's curse.
Aedenrel arrived just before sunset, and she sneaked quietly back into her home. The party was apparently still going on, as she could hear voices in the house as she made her way back to her room. Following in the shadows behind her were the Dark Brotherhood assassins she had hired, and none of them were seen. Aedenrel used the portal to her room, and began unpacking the books carefully, stacking them by volume numbers. Then the Deadra brought up the body of Fathis Aren, which she had them place near the garden part of her room. The Arch-mage sealed herself in her room then, with two Brotherhood guards on either side of the portal; two going in, and two going out. There was no way anyone was going to get into her room, and she didn't want anyone to.
Hours went by, and Aedenrel grew hungry. She refused to quit, though, she refused to give in to her hunger, seeing it as a weakness. Aedenrel was determined to find what had happened to Aaron, and how she could reverse it. She was going to find out, and when she did, she was going to fix it. She wasn't sure why she wanted to, other than to spite him. Or maybe it went deeper than that. All she knew was that she wanted to fix it, and she wasn't going to stop looking for the cure until she found it.
More hours went by, and her eyes began to droop. She was growing tired, and in her tiredness, she was skipping pages, paragraphs, entire sections of the magicians meticulous records. It was eight am by the time she finally stooped over in sleep, and the Brotherhood took it as a good sign. A sleeping Aedenrel was a happy one, and when she was happy, she was less likely to throw a fit. Or kill one of them in blind rage. They rested too, with one eye open and their ears trained for any noise that would indicate her awakening, or an intruder to the room. All of them knew that this employment was going to be long term. And they would serve their Listener faithfully.
None of them could know, however, that the trinket in her pocket was already spinning a dark web around her, and the poison in her ribs was sucking away all of her strength and health. In her rage, and determination, Aedenrel had completely disregarded the poison of Fathis Aren, instead deciding to deal with the curse that Aaron had been dealt. She thought nothing of it, however, as she drifted away in her restless sleep, knowing that she couldn't allow herself to sleep for long, before she began her search anew.