Title: Vicissitudes
Author: BurningSilence
Disclaimer: If I owned it, I would have a much better internet service provider than WildBlue. They're owned by Satan, I tell you!
Summary: see chapter one.
Chapter IV: The Stronghold
The trip, so far, had been painfully quiet. It wasn't that Felicienne liked to talk incessantly, but the fact she now had company, (and he seemed to be refusing to speak), was driving her to distraction. She might as well have been walking by herself. Whatever weak attempts at conversation she had tried to make had been met with nothing but silence and a slight inclination of Martin's head.
She was damn well sick and tired of it.
She knew the older man lost his home, and city, but sulking wasn't going to bring it back! Then she cringed at her selfishness…she was just lonely. It was hard for her to admit that. Maybe he just needed time. But she didn't know any way to make him feel better. As she thought about it, she remembered how she felt when her family was…destroyed, for lack of a better word. And if he felt in any way how she felt then…
…he wouldn't want anyone to make him feel better.
She heaved a sigh. This was going to be a long trip. They were already half way to Skingrad, and she wondered if he'd mind stopping there to spend the night. So she voiced her question to him.
"I'd prefer to get to Weynon Priory as soon as possible," he stated, glancing over at her. He must have seen the disappointment in her face, and came to the realization that he, too, would probably not be able to walk all that way practically non-stop, and continued, "But I suppose it would prove beneficial to get some rest lest we both pass out from exhaustion. I don't think you've rested much, have you?"
She looked up, surprised he'd inquired about her well being. She blushed slightly and shook her head in the negative. "But I'm just tired," she quickly said. "As soon as I get a night of sleep, I'll be right as rain," she beamed.
"I daresay you aren't just tired, you look like you need a healer," he observed as he looked at the side of her face the dremora had struck. It was an unattractive purple and was covered in dried blood. It was amazing that she was walking as well as she was.
"Ugh," she groaned.
"What is the matter?" he asked, concerned.
"Nothing, it's just a headache. And the realization that I need to buy a horse," she replied. He smiled slightly, but that vanished and he went back to looking thoughtful.
They continued on in silence for a while longer before he asked, "Where are you from?"
"Why do you ask?"
"Well, you're a Breton right?"
"Yes," she replied, a little confused, then continued teasingly. "Is it the 'pale skin and snooty expression' that gives it away?"
"I was just asking…have I offended you?" he asked. She sighed, he didn't seem to be the joking sort…but then again, he probably would have had to have been there.
"Nothing…never mind. It was just something someone once told me…" she drifted off. "Anyway, again, why do you ask?"
"You have an accent, so I assumed you weren't from Cyrodiil," he stated, a little perplexed by her changing moods.
She smiled again, "Maybe you have the accent." She turned her nose up and looked away from him. Then she turned back to him, slyly, "But to answer your question, I am from High Rock. I moved to Cyrodiil…well, I suppose almost two months ago."
"How did you meet the Emperor?" he asked, having wondered that question since Kvatch.
She raised one dark eyebrow and stated, archly, "You're certainly talkative now, aren't you?"
"Well, you are dragging me all the way to Chorrol just on faith alone. The least you could do is indulge my curiosity," he said, giving her a half smile.
"He kept me alive," she told him. And by the tone of her voice, that was the end of it. He wouldn't ask anymore questions on that subject.
By the time they made it to Skingrad, it was quite late. And the innkeeper to the West Weald Inn, (Felicienne had decided to not stay at Two Sister's Lodge…she shuddered to think how two Orc sisters would handle being woken up so late at night), had made sure they knew that.
"I'm sorry," Felicienne cajoled. "I know it's late! I'd just like to rent two rooms for the night," she begged…well, to be honest…whined.
The innkeeper merely simpered and stated, "Well I'm sorry. But we only have one room free."
The girl blanched, and looked back at Martin who was in, what looked like, a heated debate with a Nord who'd introduced herself as 'Else God-hater'. She wasn't keen on sharing a room with a man, especially a man she barely knew, so she compromised herself in the situation.
"Is it okay if I sleep down here in the tavern? I'll pay the same rate as I would for a room. I just need a room for him-," she gestured with her thumb towards Martin "-and I can pretty much sleep anywhere if I'm tired enough…and believe me, I am."
The Imperial looked surprised and replied, "Fine with me, but if he was any sort of gentleman, he'd let you take the room."
"Oh, he doesn't know I'm doing this. I think he's otherwise occupied," the Breton remarked, dryly.
The woman shrugged and handed her a key, "Upstairs, top floor, second door on the left, got that?"
She nodded and headed towards Martin to give him the key. As she arrived, the dark haired Nord woman he'd been speaking with turned to her and said, "And if you don't like it, you can bite my garters too!"
Felicienne was taken aback by her crude language, especially since she was a complete stranger, and just looked at her, wide-eyed, "Alright…" Feeling like she'd interrupted an…important…conversation, she handed the key to Martin, letting him know where the room was located.
She looked around for a privy, so that she could wash and patch herself up. It'd be absolutely wonderful to be clean again. As she was bathing herself, she took extra care to not aggravate her head wound too much. Until she could buy some health potions, the only thing she could do was keep the injury clean. She also decided that now that she had some privacy, she could change her shirt into something…less indecent.
By the time she made it back out to the lobby, it appeared that Martin had gone to bed. So she decided she'd find a bench and curl up on that for the night.
As she lay down on her side, she was trying to figure out what to do after she was able to get Martin to Weynon Priory, safely. She could always go back and live in the Shivering Isles more…permanently. Her 'subjects' would love that. She had to admit, she did enjoy being adored…even if it was a little unnerving at times. And it was quite a bit less lonely. However, she did have obligations now to the Dark Brotherhood. And everyone there had seemed to have gone out of their way to make her feel welcome…well, almost everyone, she wrinkled her nose when she thought of M'raaj-dar. He was a bit, well, surly, would be the best word to describe the Khajiit.
She thought of the rest of her 'family members' and how they had acted towards her. Ocheeva seemed thrilled that there was another woman in the Brotherhood; Antoinetta was welcoming, but she seemed…off about something; Teinaava made sure she knew most things that were pertinent to the Sanctuary, and had given her some more knowledge of Argonian customs; Gogron was…disturbing, but he seemed to genuinely like her; Telaendril wasn't there often enough for her to have an opinion on; and Vicente was actually quite charming…when one could ignore the fangs, of course.
And then there was Lucien…a man she saw only twice. And someone they took orders from. She had to admit, it unsettled her taking orders from someone that was rarely seen, but everyone else in the Sanctuary seemed to have a high opinion of the man. She had gotten the impression from Antoinetta that the two had some sort of relationship going on.
'Well, at least it's less…frightening than Gogron and Telaendril's little…escapades…' she thought with a grimace. Imagining the petite Bosmer and the hulking Orc entwined in any way made her feel…uncomfortable, to say the least. And maybe a little nauseous as well.
But maybe she'd stay with them, when this is all over. Other than the Shivering Isles, she had no one else to go back to…no family, no home…
As she continued thinking, her mood became bleaker. She did not want to think on this at the moment. It would do her no good. She needed to get some sleep and wake up fresh so she could escort Martin to the Priory. And that would hopefully be the end of it.
Of course, nothing could ever go as planned for Felicienne, could it?
As soon as they arrived at their destination, the Dunmer Felicienne recognized as the shepherd from the Priory came running towards the both of them.
"Help!" he cried. "You must help! They're killing everyone at Weynon Priory!"
The girl felt her spirits drop once again, and asked him to calm down. "Tell me what happened," she requested.
"I don't know," he panted. "I think they're right behind me and Prior Maborel is dead!" he panicked.
"Who's attacking the Priory?" she snapped, losing what little patience she had left.
The Dunmer swallowed, and seemed to get his breathing under control before he answered, "I was in the sheepfold when they attacked. I heard the Prior talking to someone. I looked around the corner to see who it was. They just looked like travelers, ordinary. But suddenly weapons appeared in their hands and they cut the Prior down before he could move! They saw me watching, and I ran."
"Where's Brother Jauffre?" Felicienne demanded, hoping his years of being a Blade would serve him well, right now.
The shepherd shook his head, "I don't know, in the Chapel praying, I think…You must help us!" he pleaded.
He took off running, not waiting for an answer, interested in saving his own life. She soon caught a glimpse of one of the men attacking the Priory, and recognized the armour as the same armour the men who killed the Emperor wore.
The assassin she had seen began running towards her, mace in hand, preparing to strike. She quickly parried it with Dawnfang, hoping to keep the assassins from Martin. What misfortune would have shone on them to have Martin die right in front of Weynon Priory?
Or maybe that was irony.
But as she peered over the head of the assassin who was attacking her, she noticed Martin had shot a frostball at her attacker's partner, killing him in one blow. In her surprise, she nearly missed dodging the next blow the agent tried to land on her. She quickly slashed her attacker down when she heard another man cry out. She recognized him as one of the other monks that lived in the Priory. He was doing his best to fend off the assassins, but looked as if he'd need some help…and soon.
Before she knew it, Martin had run up ahead with a dagger, unsheathed, and plunged it into the assassin's neck. Again, Felicienne was dumbfounded.
'So, priest by day, Fighter's Guild member by night?' she thought sardonically as she caught up with Martin. 'What in Oblivion was the point of me escorting him here when he clearly didn't need my help? He can't be an ordinary priest. I've never seen any priests that fight like that.'
The monk that they'd helped turned to both of them and told them, "They came out of nowhere!" Then as he looked more worried, "Have you seen Grandmaster Jauffre?"
Felicienne shook her head, "No, but the shepherd told me he was in the Chapel."
"He may need our help!"
'Yes,' she thought. 'And I need to know why they'd attack here, right as I was bringing Martin here.'
The three of them hurried to the Chapel, just in time to see Jauffre try to fend off two more assassins.
"Damn it!" Felicienne shouted as they noticed the newcomers. "They're just like ants; they just keep resurfacing!"
With the four of them, it didn't take long to dispose of the remaining two agents. When they'd finished, Jauffre turned to Felicienne and sighed, looking glad to see here. "You're back, thank Talos."
She could only nod, still trying to catch her breath.
"They attacked with out warning," he continued. "I was praying in the Chapel when I heard Prior Maborel shout. I had just time to arm myself."
A look of realization morphed his face as he lamented, "The Amulet of Kings! I fear that was the target of this attack. I kept it in a secret room in the Weynon house. We need to see if it is safe."
When Jauffre informed them of this turn of events, the young Breton had a feeling of foreboding creep up her spine. She expected the worst. "I'll go check on the Amulet," she sighed.
The older man smiled grimly at her, "We'll go together, but I fear the worst."
'So do I, old man,' she thought.
"They've taken it!" the monk cried out. "The Amulet of Kings is gone! The enemy has defeated us at every turn!"
Felicienne was sure she looked affronted. "I found Martin," she scowled. "He's safe." 'I should have kept that damn Amulet on me. They'd have a harder time taking it off my person than taking it out of a secret room.'
He looked relieved, "So it has not all gone against us. We gained Uriel's heir, and lost the Amulet of Kings." He went on to say, "Martin cannot stay here, it isn't safe. We may have driven them off, but they will be back once they learn of Martin's survival. Which, they will."
The girl rubbed her hand across her face in frustration, "Where will he be safe, then?"
"Nowhere is truly safe against the power arrayed against us. But we must play for time, at least."
'That is so comforting,' the girl thought, wanting to roll her eyes.
"Cloud Ruler Temple, I think," the grandmaster continued. "It's the hidden fortress of the Blades, in the Jerall Mountains near Bruma. A few men can hold it against an army," he remarked. "We should leave at once. You may as well use Prior Maborel's paint from the stable. I don't think he'll have much use for it any longer," told her, looking grieved at the thought.
Felicienne lowered her eyes, now she regretted not being able to arrive here in time to help everyone…
"You can't think everything is your fault with out thinking you're that important, Felicienne."
She shook her head, trying to clear the random thoughts that would fly into it at any given time…and that particular thought had sounded too much like her brother.
"Then we should get going. I'll get Martin," she replied, eyes still downcast.
She walked down the stairs to find Martin speaking with the monk they'd first encountered in the attack. They were speaking in low tones, not as if they were keeping secrets, but more like they were trying to be considerate of whatever Jauffre and she might have been talking about.
She walked over to him, slowly, so as not to startle the two men with her sudden appearance and placed her small hand on Martin's shoulder. The monk Martin was speaking to left to attend to what was left of the Priory. When Martin turned to look down towards her, she smiled and informed him in a soft voice, "Jauffre thinks it's best if we head to Cloud Ruler Temple for the time being."
He nodded, taking all of the events of the past few days in. He then sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "That may be best," he told her. "Besides, I haven't had a good night's sleep since Kvatch was attacked," he continued, grinning slightly. Felicienne assumed he was trying to lighten the mood.
She found herself smirking back at him and teased in a haughty voice, "Well, it's not as if I didn't give you the nice, comfortable bed when we were back in Skingrad. So you hardly have a reason to complain. I was the one who slept in the lobby on a wooden bench, good sir!" With that she turned her head away from him with her nose in the air. She peered back at him out of the corner of her eye and saw him trying to suppress a chuckle.
"Oh, sure, laugh at my expense. Such a gentleman!" she scoffed. Then she looked up towards the second floor of the house, "I think Jauffre is packing a few things up there."
"When are we to leave?" Martin questioned.
"I think in a little while. Jauffre seems eager to get going, which is understandable. We don't know when those people might come back."
As she said that, Jauffre descended the stairs with a satchel of that looked to contain potions 'just in case'.
They made their way out to the stable behind the Priory where they each mounted a horse, much to Felicienne's delight, (no more sore feet!), and began their trek up the Orange Road, and straight towards Bruma. Everyone had since agreed that even though it would be much quicker to just cut through the woods, they would be putting themselves in unnecessary danger. Besides, the horses probably wouldn't enjoy the rough ride had they decided to journey through the forest.
So far, the trip hadn't been too awful. They'd mostly talked softly between themselves, and only had to stop a couple time while they were being accosted by either bandits (damn them) or wolves. Felicienne still flinched when she had to kill animals, which of course, led to the men laughing, quietly, at her expense.
Bastards.
It had grown quite cold over the past couple hours as they neared Bruma and entered the Jerall Mountains. The temperature, while a change the Breton welcomed, made her wish she'd worn something a bit more substantial than a simple linen shirt and leather trousers. She glanced over at Jauffre and Martin, and neither of them seemed to be feeling the frosty air as intensely as she did. She glared slightly in their direction. 'Men never get cold, the lucky brutes,' she sniped in her mind.
Martin chose that moment to look up from his conversation with Jauffre to see Felicienne's narrowed eyes directed at the both of them. He fixed her with a surprised and questioning expression; she just mumbled "nothing", simpered, and shook her head.
"I'm just cold," she stated.
Jauffre looked up and asked, "Why didn't you wear something warmer?"
Felicienne just gave him a look.
Martin chose that moment to jump in with smile, "I imagine she's already asked herself that question, if that expression is anything to go by."
The girl just looked down at her horse and mumbled something that sounded like 'men'.
As her face was downcast, she heard Jauffre say, "We're almost there, Cloud Ruler Temple is just ahead."
Felicienne peeked up and saw that, indeed, there was a huge building up in front. It looked exotic when compared to the traditional architecture of Skyrim and northern Cyrodiil.
When they finally got to the Temple, a heavily armoured Redguard ran out to Jauffre and whispered something to him. Jauffre appeared to reply, leaving both Martin and Felicienne slightly confused. The Breton turned to Martin and shrugged, Jauffre must have already planned on coming here before she'd even returned with Martin.
She noticed a few more soldiers coming out of the courtyard to, she assumed, escort Martin inside. The Redguard stood in front and bowed to Martin.
"My lord! Welcome to Cloud Ruler Temple! We have not had the honour of an Emperor's visit in many years!"
Martin looked like he might be floundering, if his bewildered countenance gave anything away, "Ah, well, thank you! The honour is mine."
Jauffre smiled, "Come! You're Blades are waiting to greet you!"
The Grandmaster led everyone into the courtyard, while Felicienne stayed back, standing near the top of the stairs as she watched the Blades split into two lines both on either side of Jauffre and Martin.
"Blades! Dark times are upon us. The Emperor and his sons were slain on our watch. The Empire is in Chaos," Jauffre intoned. "But there is yet hope. Here is Martin Septim, true son of Uriel Septim!"
The Blades began to hail Martin as a Septim, and Felicienne looked towards Martin to see how he was handling himself. He looked rather frayed. She supposed that was understandable. It wasn't everyday that someone finds out they are an illegitimate child of an emperor.
Jauffre turned to Martin and grinned, "Your Highness, the Blades are at your command. You will be safe here until you can take up your throne.
Martin nodded, and cleared his throat, "Jauffre, all of you…I know you expect me to be Emperor, and…I'll do my best, but this is all new to me." He looked down, chagrined and continued, "I'm not used to giving speeches, but I wanted you to know that I appreciate your welcome here. I hope I prove myself worthy of your loyalty in the coming days. That's it. Thank you."
Felicienne raised her eyebrows and Jauffre turned to Martin and thanked him for the…speech, then told the rest of the Blade to resume their duties.
She was about to head back down the stairs and make her way to Bruma for the night when Martin stopped her. "Not much of a speech was it?" he smiled, although it appeared as more of a grimace. "Didn't seem to bother them, though" He then frowned and looked away from Felicienne, "It's strange, the Blades saluting me and hailing me as Martin Septim."
He shook his head slightly and looked back at the girl, "I don't mean to sound ungrateful. I know I would be dead by now if it weren't for you. Thank you. But…everyone expects me to suddenly know what to do, how to behave. They want an emperor to tell them what to do. And I haven't the faintest idea…"
"Well," Felicienne interjected. "We need to get the Amulet back."
"Of course. The Amulet of Kings. So we…I…can take it to the Temple of the One and light the Dragonfires. And stop the Oblivion invasion…" Martin trailed off, looking thoughtful.
Felicienne nodded and grinned, "And then you will be Emperor."
"The Emperor…that's and idea that will take some getting used to," the former priest stated, bemused. "In any case, we need the Amulet first. Maybe Jauffre will know where to start."
As he turned to walk into the Temple, Felicienne told him, "You'll be fine, Martin. I'm sure you'll be able to handle anything that happens. Now, I guess I should go speak to Jauffre," she ended with a sigh. After that, then she'd go to Bruma and, hopefully, find an inn with a room.
She walked to Jauffre with the intent on asking about the Amulet of Kings, but was surprised when he asked something else of her instead.
"You have proven yourself a loyal servant of the Empire, as worthy as any of the Blades to stand by Martin's side during this crisis," the older man smiled at her as she was wondering where he was going with this conversation.
"As the Grandmaster of the Blades, I would be honoured to accept you into our order. Will you join us?"
Felicienne floundered for a bit, not sure what she should do. Surely, it would be an insult to refuse this generous offer…but she couldn't help feel like a hypocrite joining the Blades, what with her other…obligations.
"What would be my duties as a Blade?" she settled on asking, before making any decisions.
He looked pleased that she was at least considering the offer as he answered, "The Blades are sworn to the service of the Emperor, as the mortal representative of the Dragon Blood of the divine Talos."
She sighed quietly, it didn't exactly answer her question, but she could guess what he meant. She would do whatever Martin would require of her. Not too different from her current situation, really.
"Yes, I'll join the Blades, then," she replied, hoping she wasn't digging herself into a hole.
Then Jauffre smiled more brightly and clasped her hand in a firm handshake, "It is my honour to welcome you into our ranks as a Knight Sister of the Blades."
"Yes, well, thank you," Felicienne mumbled, embarrassed. "Now, what are we going to do about the Amulet of Kings?"
"We need to find it before the enemy takes it out of our reach. You should head back to the Imperial City. Baurus may have learned something about the assassins. You'll find Baurus at Luther Broad's Boarding House in the Elven Gardens district of the City."
Felicienne nodded, making a mental note to stop by Cheydinhal first before going on to the Imperial City. She'd need to see if there were any contracts Vicente wanted to give her.
In any case, she had a long trip ahead of her.
A/N: Ah, here it is, the delayed update. In my defense, my internet is an unholy creation made by the beast we know as the desolate one, and on top of that, my computer itself is also pretty evil (and temperamental). And this is sort of a filler chapter (le gasp!) but I wanted to make it a bit interesting, especially since most of it is just…
walking. Walking to Chorrol, then walking to Bruma…then later there's walking to Cheydinhal…but I'll skip that for the next chapter. Please, feel free to critique this chapter, I'm not very happy with it. And the Dark Brotherhood will be in the next chapter…maybe even a contract…^_^