Song of the Dragonborn
Interlude
Nocturne

It was a foggy morning in Solitude- and a rather unseasonably cold one for the final week of Last Seed- when Gregorius and Zedrick stepped into the Winking Skeever for rest and a few drinks before duty called them to report back to Castle Dour and General Tullius- who, rumor had it, had managed to survive Helgen. Zedrick was deep into his third pint of Black-Briar Reserve- and raucously showing it with his boisterous laughter- while Gregorius had barely consumed half of his glass of Spiced Wine.

"Come on, Greg, we managed to escape from all Oblivion breaking loose back there!" Zedrick encouraged, clapping his fellow Imperial on the back hard enough to make him splutter out some of his newly-sipped wine. "The leas' you could do is... is... is have somefun for a change!"

"Do you truly think we have time for levity at a time like this?" Gregorius asked, taking another measured sip of his wine. "Skyrim is about to fall apart in the depths of civil war, and now damnable dragons are swooping in. Not to mention the vampires making their way into our city and savaging our people left and right..."

"It's the end of the world, I tells ya!" Zedrick slurred in a horrid approximation of a Nordic accent. He then burst into a fit of drunken snort-laughs and said, "H-How'd you like my Nord impression there, Greg? Eh? Eh?"

"...Charming." Gregorius answered sarcastically. He sipped of his wine again, only to find it half-sloshed out of his glass when Zedrick leaned on him for support. "What is it now?"

"I love you, man. You know that, right?" Zedrick murmured, sloppily embracing Gregory from the side in a brotherly hug. "In like... like a platonic way, not like that. I don't do that shtuff..."

Gregorius lifted Zedrick's arms from his shoulders, allowing him to slide to the floor in a heap. "You're drunk. And I'm aware-unfortunately."

"What was that?" Zedrick asked from the floor, struggling to get up. The warm firelight of the inn caught his sandy blond hair and gave it a lustrous sheen that gave Gregorius the sudden impulse to run his fingers through it.

Shaking off the impulse, Gregory coldly answered, "Never mind." He drained his glass of wine in one gulp, already feeling the flush of intoxication on his face. "Damn my low tolerance..."

Zedrick snickered right next to Gregorius's ear as he used his comrade's chair for support to pull himself up. "Lightweight."

Gregorius ignored Zedrick's teasing comment in favor of scanning the tavern for someone. When Zedrick finally pulled himself up and sat across from him again, Gregorius asked, "I wonder what happened to the Breton we escorted here..."

"Celestine?" Zedrick questioned, tilting his head to the side. He shrugged. "Oblivion take me if I know. Was with us at the gates. Prob'ly just wanted to get the lay of the city."

Gregorius's expression became grim. "We needed to bring him to Legion, to see if anyone had learned anything about his past. His crimes."

Zedrick snorted. "You worry too much. We'll run into him again eventually. Besides, what's he going to do, get himself eaten by some reclusive cannibal cult?"

Gregorius did not share in his comrade's raucous laughter at first. But then, as the ridiculousness of what Zedrick said settled in, he found himself cracking something of a smile and chortling quietly to himself. Their former captive was most likely fine.

.-.-.-.-.

Indeed, Celestine Rosendo was more than fine. He was quite gleeful as he stared up at the magnificent and foreboding facade of the castle from its bridge. It was clearly ancient and dour, built to outlast the eons. The bridge on which he currently walked was lined with highly detailed gargoyle statues which seemed ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. His confident smirk grew as he made his final decision for himself. Oh yes, I definitely think this is where I'll stay until the furor in High Rock has died down...

The castle truly was the perfect hiding place for him. Its proximity to both Solitude (where he'd finally managed to properly dress himself and burn those horrid prisoners' clothes!) and High Rock made it a tactically advantageous position. He doubted his father would look for him here- after all, it would be utter foolishness and madness to dare risk holing up so close to a country crying for his head. But if he ever did, he could always row or swim back to the coast and make his way to Solitude, there to lose himself in the city's crowd. However, he was nearly certain his father would not search for him here, if for no other reason than the locals' claims that this particular castle was cursed. Haunted, they claimed, by the ghosts of its original inhabits. No one who ever went in there came out alive- if they ever came out at all.

Well, I've seen plenty of supposedly cursed and haunted places in my time, even back in High Rock. Celestine mused, stroking his chin thoughtfully as he leaned in to more closely examine a gargoyle. Been inside a lot of 'em too. All rumor and superstition and suspicion. Mostly just to keep trespassers from looting the place dry. At least I can use these Nordic and Imperial superstitions to protect me for a while.

That thought had only just faded to the back of his mind when Celestine found his right wrist restrained and felt the cold, smooth and sharp edge of an ebony dagger digging into his throat. The voice in his ear was lilting, teasing as it asked, "Now, what would a rat such as yourself be doing poking around here?"

If Celestine had an answer, it died in his throat as the dagger pressed in deeper. He could tell the figure currently restraining him was female from the sensation of breasts pressed into his shoulder blades. He looked out of the corner of his eye, and saw a smirking Dunmeri face with obscenely protruding fangs and glowing orange eyes.

"Hmm, what to do with you?" the dark elf asked, a vicious smirk on her face. "Give me one good reason I shouldn't slit your throat right now. Go on, vermin, speak!"

The dark-skinned Breton opened and closed his mouth stupidly as he tried to search for a response. Adrenaline pounded through his veins, and his body seemed confused as to whether it was more frightened or aroused by the attentions of the assassin currently holding him.

Noting his reaction, the Dunmer scoffed, removing the dagger from Celestine's throat and sheathing it. "Ugh, never mind. I'll bring you before the lord of this castle. We'll see what he would have done with you."

For a brief moment, when she released him, Celestine entertained the notion of trying to flee. This notion was quickly halted in its place by the hand of the Dunmer grabbing the neckline of Celestine's shirt with a firm grip and dragging him across the bridge. The massive wooden doors to the castle opened with a nod from his 'escort', and he found himself being dragged inside a few steps more.

"Lord Harkon, you really need to take care of this rat problem of yours!" Celestine's escort hailed.

The very next moment, Celestine found himself flying through the air and landing with several painful cracks on the stone floor of the entrance hall, his body sliding in a slick, red substance. Once he'd managed to force his mind to ignore the bursts of pain through his entire being, he pulled himself into a seated position, sputtered the irony tang of blood out of his mouth, tried in vain to wipe his face of its slick coating, and looked down at himself to find his clothes positively soaked with blood. He looked around the entrance hall, and found no less than eight vampires seated at the dining tables, ten if he included those who were now slowly standing, feasting on the flesh and blood of a recently-dead mortal. His heart rate increased, pounded loudly in his ears, and he heard a collective intake of breath from the vampires surrounding him. He clenched his eyes shut, expecting himself to become a meal in the next moment.

"To trespass around my castle and to come before me without having been summoned, you are either supremely brave or damnably foolish, mortal. Which are you? Speak, mortal! Lord Harkon commands you!" the vampire standing immediately before Celestine grandly proclaimed.

He wrenched his eyes open and craned his head to look up at this man calling himself Lord Harkon. An imposing Nord with dark hair and darker features, he towered over the kneeling Breton in both physical height and sheer presence. Though Celestine internally bristled at the fact that Harkon's personality seemed to occupy more space than his own, he knew that playing meek and humble was likely the best way to escape from this situation with his life.

"I meant no disrespect to you or your people, my lord." Celestine replied respectfully. "I had heard rumors this place was haunted, and thought it might provide refuge for me, as none would dare approach it. I now realize that I was mistaken in my thought that this place was unoccupied, and would very much like to be on my way... Er, by your leave, my lord."

Lord Harkon paced in front of Celestine for several long moments, seeming to consider the matter. "Oh, I do believe we can offer you a place to stay with the rest of the cattle in the dungeons, mortal."

At the term 'cattle', Celestine felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He was fairly certain he knew what the term implied for his fate, and he wasn't sure he liked the idea. I wonder... would it be worse to die trying to escape or live as their feeder...?

"Lord Harkon, I do believe my sister is returning home to us today. Perhaps she might enjoy a new feeder. You know how she loves toplay with her food." the Dunmer who'd thrown Celestine into the room commented, stepping towards Lord Harkon with a half-curtsy.

Lord Harkon stroked his beard in thought. "Hmm... yes, the thought has some merit..."

Celestine's eyes flicked to another figure now approaching Lord Harkon, one who'd once been an Altmer before his undeath. The Altmer cleared his throat as he stood behind Harkon. "Lord Harkon, if I may-?"

If Harkon had groaned aloud, it couldn't have made the disdain and annoyance on his face more plain. "What is it Vingalmo?"

Vingalmo, as he was called, tilted his head to the side, as if implying this conversation was meant to be a private one. Harkon gritted his teeth and looked back to Celestine, who was trying to stop his body from trembling with the waves of adrenaline still coursing through him. "Excuse us a moment, worm."

As the whisper of hushed voices echoed endlessly in the massive entrance hall, Celestine's weak trembling escalated into a furious tremor. Oh Divines... what are they planning on doing with me? What are they planning on doing TO me? Am I going to turn into lunch?

He took several deep breaths to calm himself as the whispering conference before him went on for several long minutes. Vingalmo, as the Altmer vampire was called, seemed to be trying to convince the lord of the castle of something. Harkon was proving particularly resistant, until finally, Celestine heard a huff of breath and a sigh of "Very well then."

His earlier shuddering returned once more as Lord Harkon's booted feet stepped heavily on the stone floor, crossing to the space in front of the kneeling, blood-soaked Breton in three great strides. Celestine dared to look into the face of the vampiric lord, and found him sneering at him with an expression of distaste.

"Consider yourself fortunate, mortal. Vingalmo seems to believe that you have some potential to accept a certain... boon. So now, mortal, I offer you a choice. Forsake your human life and join our kind, telling no one of this place- or I set my clansmen on you, and you will die."

Celestine blinked in surprise. Of all the things he'd expected to hear, the offer of being turned would have been last on the list. "You would allow me to become one of you?"

Harkon's contempt was obvious. "Vingalmo seems to believe you can handle my gift. I somehow doubt it- but if I am right, the process of transformation will kill you regardless. Should you choose to join us and- Molag Bal's favor pending- survive the transformation, you will walk as a lion among sheep. The whole of this world will be yours to dominate, to control. Now, behold the power!"

Celestine watched, transfixed, as the form of the nobleman before him began to twist. Massive bony wings burst forth from Harkon's back, spattering Celestine's face with even more blood. His hands and fingers transformed into massive claws. His face twisted and deformed into a visage not unlike the gargoyles which lined the bridge outside the massive castle, many long, sharp fangs lining his mouth. His slit-like eyes narrowed at the Breton before him and he addressed him once more. "Would you deny this gift, having seen its true power? Come. My patience wears thin, mortal. Make your choice."

You had me convinced at the idea of dominating this whole damned world. Celestine thought to himself, a smirk appearing on his face. "Very well, Lord Harkon. I humbly accept this boon you offer."

"Then rise, mortal." Harkon commanded, gesturing for Celestine.

The Breton readily did as he was told, walking for Harkon and exposing his neck. His world went red with the sudden burst of sharp pain which met him, then black as the corrupted blood of Lord Harkon slipped into his mouth and down his throat. He collapsed upon the stone floor, and his body waited for final judgment to be passed on his worthiness to receive the gift.

When he awoke, all was in ashes. The air was freezing, chilling the very marrow of his bones. Within the sky shone a bloodred, burning sun, a mockery of the light which gently washed over Nirn. The ground, the walls, everything around him was soaked in blood and human excrement. The scent burned at his nostrils and nearly brought Celestine to gag. As he tried to force himself not to retch, he heard a demonic deep voice laughing behind his back.

Pathetic.

Celestine whipped around to face the source of the voice, and found nothing. "Who goes there? Show yourself!"

A dog has no place giving orders to a god. the deep voice sneered. Especially not an easily beaten dog such as yourself.

All at once, his memories flooded back to him. Blood painted the floor and the face of his mother as she lay motionless, his naked father re-dressing himself and coldly exiting the room with a self-satisfied smirk upon his face. That same face glared down at him from the throne as he informed his father of his success in his magical studies- merely adequate was his work, he'd have to work harder to prove he is impressive. He cowered beneath the fist of his brother, who justified every beating with a statement of divine punishment. Whispers followed his every step, even as he charmed his way into Bretony court with his good looks. Embarrassment mounted. They knew. They all knew who and what he truly was, and no amount of silver upon his tongue would banish their ugly comments. Beneath the weight of his own despair, he cowered, clutching his hands to his head in a vain effort to stop the onslaught of memory and emotion.

You do not deserve the right to rule. You are a pathetic, lost and confused child. Be gone from this place.

A corrosive crimson mist began to roll in from all sides, surrounding the kneeling man and threatening to consume him. But against the mist which burned his very skin, Celestine felt a spark of resistance arise in him. Though it felt as though he were tearing his very body apart to do it, he forced himself to stand firm against the red mist. A green protective shell appeared around him as he firmly stated, "No. I'm not going anywhere."

The demonic voice chuckled. So there is strength in a whelp such as you. How amusing. Tell me, child, to what depths are you willing to sink for this power?

"I would see my brother lose his divine favor." Celestine growled. "I would force him to defy his vows of celibacy. I would see the whole of High Rock choking on its own blood." With each statement he took a step forward through the all-consuming mist. "I would make this world crumble from within. I would see man and mer turn on one another and slaughter each other wholesale. I would spit in the faces of the divines themselves for daring to declare themselves the arbiters of goodness in man, while standing idly by and doing nothing to stop hypocrisy or corruption. I would become the very monster they always claimed I would be, and soak myself and the entire world in blood until Nirn's inward filth turns outward and it becomes as vile and glorious as this place!"

In response to the Breton's grandiose claims, the voice laughed again. Big words, from such a pathetically small man. You amuse me. Perhaps you are worthy after all.

A shadow appeared in the mist, and before Celestine had a chance to react, a clawed hand burst through his chest. Behind him was clutched his still weakly-beating heart. Blood poured from Celestine's mouth, and he gazed in a brief moment of fear upon the face of his attacker- the face of Molag Bal himself. Awaken, and know thy true self. Go forth and serve as an arbiter of my corruption.

Upon that command, Celestine felt the hand of Molag Bal squeeze shut upon his heart, crushing it in his grip. Abruptly, his senses faded, and he knew no more.

.-.-.-.-.

The stone floor was cold and wet beneath him when he returned to consciousness. Though the dungeon would have been pitch black to any awakening mortal, Celestine found himself able to see with perfect clarity. Though he still seemed to breathe out of force of habit, he no longer felt the pressing need to do so. It was likely he could go without breathing for much longer periods of time than before. At last, he took notice that his whole body felt cold and looked distinctly paler than it had before, taking on a rather corpse-like pallor. But the most obvious change, and one he berated himself for not noticing sooner, was the fact that his heart, which he had so often before felt pumping blood through his veins, had come to a complete standstill. Though his vision was clearer than ever, it still doubled and his head throbbed as he rose to his feet. At long last, he was able to perceive Lord Harkon standing before him with a condescending smile. "Awake at last? Good. The time has come for you to begin to learn of your new powers."

As Celestine's vision slowly cleared and came into proper focus, he took note that the female vampire who had so kindly greeted him at the entrance to the castle was standing to Lord Harkon's right, a shrewd look in her eyes as they swept over the newly awakened member of their clan. Turning his attention to Lord Harkon, Celestine said, "I am ready to learn. Teach me all I must know to master these new powers."

Lord Harkon smirked, turning his attention to the vampire at his right. "Very well. Savri, it will be your responsibility to teach the newest member of our family all he needs to know."

Savri's eyes boggled, a contemptuous look writing itself across her face. "What? I have to be the one stuck teaching him-?" One fierce look from Lord Harkon forced her bitter words back into her throat. She smiled, mockingly curtsied, and said, "As you wish, Lord Harkon."

The glare Savri affixed to Celestine made it clear she blamed him entirely for her current plight, and would not be looking forward to lending him her aid. Shrugging off the glare with his usual charming smile, Celestine walked to Savri's side, and said, "Well, well, it certainly looks as though you and I will be getting very well-acquainted with each other in the times to come."

Savri whipped out her dagger and laid it upon his throat. "Touch me, and I will feed you personally to the gargoyles. I'm sure they'd love a snack, even if they do tend to prefer... live flesh."

Celestine's fanged smile shrank by several molars upon that statement. "Duly noted." he murmured, looking at the multitude of stone gargoyles on the walls as they walked through them. "So, are we just going to walk side by side in an awkward silence, or will you actually explain how to use these new powers."

Savri scoffed. "Do I look as if I'm old enough to be your mother? Figure it out your damned self. Now, it has become clear to me you've fled to this place from High Rock after being caught in the process of an assassination. Is this information correct?"

If Celestine had still had a pulse, it would have raced at that statement. "From whom did you learn of this?"

Savri smirked, her yellow eyes glowing in the darkness of the tunnel network as she gazed back at him. "I have my sources. Shame it was such sloppy execution, otherwise I might have been impressed to have a royal assassin in my corner. You'll have to shape up if you care to survive, where I'm taking you."

"So I'm not to stay here in the castle?"

"No, you fool. Lord Harkon was content to make you my charge, so I'm going to see if I can find some place to use you. I have, as I said, a rather extensive network of contacts. Many of which in the Dark Brotherhood. And we are always looking for new... members to add to the family."

A cold chill ran down Celestine's spine. He hadn't been in Skyrim that long, but he'd certainly heard of the Dark Brotherhood. If rumors were true, they were the ones responsible for the death of the emperor, plunging Skyrim and much of the world into chaos. This order of assassins certainly seems more competent than the Black Hand back home...

The pair of vampires passed much of their journey across Skyrim in silence. They seemed to stay in the frigid and icy north, giving any enemies a wide berth as they marched ever eastward. They had been walking for several days in this awkward silence before, upon seeing a small town in the distance, Celestine broke it by asking, "Where exactly are we bound? Is it somewhere in that town?"

"Oh, you're still there?" Savri asked with a mocking smirk. "Damn. And here I'd thought I'd lost you back in the ice floes. What a shame."

"You didn't answer my question." Celestine noted, a hint of annoyance in his voice. "Is this town where we're bound or not?"

"We're headed right for it. I should think the answer to that question would be obvious." Savri deadpanned, giving Celestine a look as though he were a particularly slow child.

"So it is, then."

Celestine was not incredibly familiar with Skyrim as of yet, but he certainly recognized the symbol of Dawnstar on the banners near the town. He surmised that was where they were currently walking. It was a guess proven correct as he took note of the vast port which comprised much of the town. Savri, however, did not seem interested in going towards the market, rather proceeding towards the Windpeak Inn. Celestine followed after her, and took a seat when she did.

Casting a glance around the inn, Celestine saw a rather diverse crowd gathered therein. Naturally, Nords held the prevailing population of the inn, but there were a great many Dunmer and Altmer, as well as a few Khajit present. No sooner did he and Savri get settled than the door swung open again, revealing what seemed to be an Altmer priestess of Dibella, as well as a young, blond and bearded Nord with piercing blue eyes. Upon seeing the second figure, Celestine did a double take, as something about the young man clad in Glass Armor struck him as familiar. Upon a second look, he recognized the blue tattoo which marked the boy's face as one belonging to the Nord from Kynesgrove he'd been riding alongside towards Helgen.

He thought briefly to hail the lad, but thought better of it when he saw the pair of new entrants to the inn proceeding towards a Dunmer priest of Mara over in the corner. Savri let out a huff of annoyance, narrowing her eyes at the Dunmer priest before turning her attention back to Celestine and lowering her voice. "Now, listen closely. I'm leaving this place in the next few minutes. I need you to proceed after me after a suitable period of waiting. I don't want people noticing you following me. If you can keep out of sight, so much the better. Just outside this town, there is a black door. When you arrive, you will be asked 'what is life's greatest illusion?', to which you must answer 'innocence, my brother'. Once you have done this, I will be waiting for you inside. And we will truly begin your training. And do not mention anything I've said to you to anyone else."

Celestine nodded in understanding, his voice hushed as he answered, "'Innocence, my brother.' Got it."

Savri nodded curtly before proceeding out of the inn, leaving Celestine alone in the drunken crowd. Well, I suppose the best way to pass the time would be to join in the festivities. he thought to himself with a smirk.

It didn't take long for him to regret his decision. The guards coming fresh from their latest shift seemed to be very repetitive drunks. He lost count of the number of times he heard recommendations for him to conjure them up a bed. He scoffed, rolling his eyes. Stupid Nords. It doesn't work like that. Never has. Although... perhaps there is some useful information I can glean from them...

"Excuse me, would any of you happen to know of a place here in Skyrim where one might study to better their magic?" Celestine asked the drunken crowd of guards. It would be useful to continue my studies while here, that's for certain. I'll need all the power I can get to prove my worth.

It was several long moments before any one of the guards could collect their wits long enough to respond. "Tha'd be the College of Winterhold, if yer lookin' for fancy magic types. Creepy place. Town's been blown to bits in the past- all but the College. Be careful if yer treadin' there."

Celestine nodded in understanding. "I will. Thank you for your information."

And with that tidbit in hand, I think it's high time I proceed and meet Savri at this 'Black Door' outside of town. he thought.

As soon as he got outside of the inn, Celestine slipped into the shadows cast by the moon, and sank into a crouch. He heard the crunching footsteps on snow of a pair of guards making their rounds, and waiting for the noise to fade into silence before proceeding quickly around the outskirts of town and behind buildings in order to stay hidden. When hiding in the shadows no longer was possible- due in large part to the damnably cloudless night- he rose from his crouch and walked along the main road, waving merrily at the guards, who warned him to 'stay out of trouble' before proceeding onward.

As soon as he once again found a pool of shadows to hide in, Celestine ran for it, slipping hastily into a crouch again and waiting for yet another group of guards to proceed past him. He was near the edge of town now, and as soon as the guards were gone, he made a break for the exit of the town, proceeding until he found himself face-to-face with the Black Door Savri had told him about. He paused, looking up at it for a long moment before an eerie whisper that chilled the marrow of his bones queried, "What is life's greatest illusion?"

A smirk played on Celestine's face. He knew what the pass phrase was, but such an open-ended question was too perfect of an opportunity. "A happy marriage?"

The unimpressed silence of the door made it clear his sarcasm was not appreciated. He sighed, rolling his eyes. "Oh all right, fine, 'Innocence, my brother.'"

The whisper of the door welcoming him home sent shivers down Celestine's spine before the Black Door swung open. He proceeded into the Sanctuary opened for him, and found Savri waiting for him.

"It took you long enough." Savri scoffed. "Getting drunk, were we?"

"No. Getting information about magic study here." Celestine replied. "So. Who are you, really? What is this place?"

Savri's lips pulled back from her fangs in an obscene smirk. Her glowing eyes pierced through what was left of Celestine's soul as she answered, "Well, as you already know, my name is Savri. This place is the Dawnstar Sanctuary of the Dark Brotherhood. And as to why I brought you here... I found it prudent that we bolster our ranks in these times of struggle. We must begin your training right away. I need you functional as an assassin as soon as possible."

"Very well." Celestine agreed with a nod. "But why do you need to bolster the ranks so badly?"

Savri chuckled darkly, a crazed glint in her eyes. "It's only my duty as the Listener and effective leader of the Dark Brotherhood."