Mortem's leg swung back and forth as it dangled from the book case, keeping in a slow and steady rhythm as the Imperial's red eyes watched the sleeping form of the man on the bed.
Not just any man though, no. By the Nine, it was the Dragonborn. Mortem almost laughed aloud while her prisoners continued to whimper silently.
After receiving word from the Aretino boy that her contract had been taken—as well as getting a full description of the man—Mortem set for Riften that minute. Her steed was none too pleased, having expected more rest than this, but the redhead had been a white hot anger. How dare some Nord swoop in and steal her kill? When it came to living as a murderer, that was something almost unforgivable.
However, by the time she had reached the orphanage where Grelod was to be, Mortem only found a crowd of gawkers and a slowly decomposing body. The men and woman who looked on whispered of the Dark Brotherhood, but it had not been them. Mortem had been beaten to it.
After a day's rest, the Imperial had made her way back to the Sanctuary to tell Astrid of the happenings. Instead of being furious like her, the blonde seemed happy. It meant that a debt was to be repaid and fun was to be had. After Mortem had told her the description of the man, Astrid was overjoyed. At first, the redhead didn't know why, but Astrid informed her soon after.
The killer was the famous Dragonborn. The Aretino boy hadn't known his identity because of how long he had been locked up in his home, but the identity of the man was known to most. And by the gods, it truly was the Dragonborn.
The man shifted in his sleep, likely to wake up soon, but Mortem only rolled her red eyes. They wouldn't have had to be in this position if he had only heeded the warning. Mortem had personally sent him a letter, containing her inked handprint and the words "We Know" written at the bottom.
Instead of finding them, however, the man had ignorantly ignored their note and went on his merry way, clearing out bandit camps for money and loot.
Now he found himself drugged and in an abandoned house with a murderer and three victims who had been threatened not to speak until the Dragonborn spoke to them. In due time, in due time…
After being ignored for a week after his warning, Astrid had ordered Mortem to follow and kidnap the man once she was able. She followed him for three days after that until he arrived back to his home in Whiterun, where he tiredly fell asleep not too long after. No matter how difficult it had been, Mortem was able to get him here.
The blonde man groaned in pain, feeling a stiffness in his body as he got up, his eyes more than bleary from sleep. He rubbed his green orbs in confusion, opening them wide when he noticed that he was no longer at his home in Whiterun.
"What the hell?"
"Sleep well?" Mortem purred behind her mask, catching the attention of the Dragonborn.
"What? Where am I? Who are you?"
"Does it matter?" the redhead questioned, her red eyes staring right at the man, "You're warm, dry… and very much alive. That's more than can be said for old Grelod, hmmm?
"You know about that?" the burly man asked, sitting up so he could view the mysterious woman better.
"Do I? Half of Skyrim knows. Old hag gets butchered in her own orphanage?" the Imperial shook her head with a chuckle, "Things like that tend to get around. Oh, but don't misunderstand. I'm not criticizing. Well… maybe. It's not the way I would have killed her."
Realizing she was running off track, the assassin continued on. "But anyway, it was a good kill. Old crone had it coming. And you saved a group of innocent little children, so aren't you the hero? But there's a slight… problem."
"A problem?" the Dragonborn growled. He really didn't have time to be dealing with the woman. She had stupidly left him with his armor and a sharp dagger. If she caused him any trouble, he'd run her through.
"A dangerous one for you, I'm afraid," Mortem sighed, as if she was concerned about the man, "You see, that little Aretino boy was looking for the Dark Brotherhood. For me and my associates, though his contract was mine. Grelod the Kind was, by all rights, a Dark Brotherhood contract. A kill that you stole. Now, it's a kill you must repay."
"You want me to murder someone else? Who?"
Mortem smirked harder under her mask. "It's funny you should ask. If you turn around, you'll notice my guests."
The blonde man turned his body around to look at the other side of the house to see three people, all with bags over their heads and their arms and legs bound.
"I've 'collected' them from… well, that's not important. They're here now, and that's what matters," the assassin dismissed, waving her hand at the trivial fact, "You see, there's a contract out on of one them, and that person can't leave this room alive."
Her deep laugh sent a shiver down the man's spine, a feat that not many people could accomplish.
"But which one?" Mortem continued, putting a finger on her chin in thought, "Go on Dragonborn, see if you can figure out our little game. Make your choice. Make your kill. I just want to observe and admire."
Looking back at the three victims, the Dragonborn was at a loss of what to do. He had done some pretty vile things in his life, killing innocents being one of them, though he'd only done it because it was necessary. Now, however, he was the Dragonborn. He was looked up at as a hero, even though he was one of the most despicable men you'd ever meet. He'd been trying his hardest to hide his ways from the public, turning his rage to bandits and dragons instead. But now, faced with this, what was he to do?
"Do you really expect me to kill one of them?"
Mortem's red eyes narrowed at the man, her deep anger at him finally surfacing. "I do, actually. If you don't, you'll have bigger problems than waking up in a shack in the deepest hours of the night. Kill your choice and the debt is repaid. It's as simple as that."
The Dragonborn could feel the woman's anger like a hot wind blowing on his skin. He didn't doubt that if he didn't do as told then he would fall to a fate worse than theirs. At the end of the day, to him, his life was more important than anyone else's.
But just to be fair, he listened to their stories, let what they had done ring through his ears. He didn't know any of them, hadn't heard their voices before, hadn't held a friendship with them, but deciding who should die was harder than he thought it would be.
"Oh, the anticipation is killing me," Mortem purred, letting the joke echo though the room. "Can the almighty Dragonborn figure out who had the contract? Which one will he choose?"
The blonde ground his teeth in frustration at the woman's words, wishing that the dagger at his side would do something against her. He had fast reflexes, but he had a feeling that the assassin was better than him at the moment. He wasn't going to risk his life because she was baiting him.
The Nord finally decided on the Khajit, his attitude and the way that he faced the man having angered the Dragonborn. As he slashed at the man's throat , the cat's pitiful wails bounced off the walls in the shack, possibly even reaching out to the world outside. The man fell back against the floor, dead, with blood starting to pool around him.
Blood. The sight of the liquid had always done something to the Dragonborn. It was something to cherish; it was something that showed triumph. It meant that you had bested your opponent and you had come out on top. Blood meant power.
All of these people were bad, or that's how the Nord had justified it. When he slit all their throats, heard them scream, and watched their blood poor, that was the thing that kept his newly developed conscious at bay.
Mortem watched all of this with a slight awe and bewilderment. The Dragonborn had been so reluctant in the beginning to take an innocent life, something you would suspect from the savior of Skyrim, but after he had murdered the Khajit… something in him changed. You could feel it in the air, as if he had turned into a whole different person.
When he turned back around to look at Mortem, a huge smirk lit up her face, though he couldn't see it. For the show he had put on for her, he was already forgiven for taking her kill. She felt like she owed him something. And that's when the thought struck her.
"Excellent, just excellent!" she exclaimed, wanting to clap in joy like her dear Cicero, "Such an overachiever. Three possibilities, three victims. Must have been one of them, right? Might as well kill them all to make sure."
His mind still spinning from what he had just done, the Dragonborn stayed silent while the assassin's red eyes drilled into him. The thrill of the kill was starting to ebb away, giving way to the thought that he should feel guilty, but didn't. He was guilty that he wasn't guilty.
"Don't feel guilty, Dragonborn," Mortem soothed, knowing exactly what that look was, "It was your life or theirs, and yours is more important, is it not? You are the Dovahkiin after all. And you saved yourself the trouble of having to die by my hand," the Imperial smirked, "Which wasn't as pleasant as their quick deaths, I assure you."
"So I'm free to go?" the Nord asked, ignoring the woman's words. All he really wanted to do was get out of here. Away from the honey-worded woman who made his blood lust even more demanding.
"Of course," Mortem replied, "You've repaid your debt, in full."
This was where her brilliant idea came in. "But why stop there? I've seen what you can do. Why not take our relationship to the next level?" The redhead smiled. "Why not become more acquainted with each other? I'd like to extend to you and invitation to join my family. The Dark Brotherhood."
"You… want me to join your Brotherhood?"
"Well, it's not mine," Mortem confessed, though it was a minor detail, "It's more Astrid's, but I am asking you to join. That is, if you want. In the southwest reaches of Skyrim, in the Pine Forest, you'll find the entrance to our Sanctuary. It's just beneath the road, hidden from view. When questioned by the Black Door, you repeat this phrase: 'Silence, my brother'. After that, you're in, and a new and glorious life awaits you."
Digging through one of the pockets of her light armor, Mortem threw the golden key at the Dragonborn, watching him fumble with it a little before his large hands encased it. "You're free to go."
"Before I do," he spoke up, catching her attention, "My name is Rovaan, not Dragonborn."
The assassin laughed at that and covered her mouth, though her mask already muffled the sound. "Excuse me, Rovaan. I'll call you as such from now on."
"Can I ask of your name?"
"If you're looking for information about me, I'm quite new to Skyrim, so you won't find any dirt on me."
Rovaan chuckled, a deep and manly sound that only the Nord's could successfully accomplish. "I just want to know, seeing as we might be seeing each other more often now."
"In case you do come back home," Mortem started, leaning forward and looking more interested than she had the whole time, "My name is Mortem. Now be gone, Rovaan. I have bodies to dispose of."
Not risking another look at the three people he had killed, the Dragonborn nodded his head and unlocked the shack door, leaving without another word and closing the door silently behind him. The redhead waited a minute or two before she jumped off the shelf, going over to the cold bodies and examining them.
"Welcome to the Dark Brotherhood," she laughed, kicking the lifeless bodies.
A/N: Sorry that this was pretty much copy and paste of what happened in the game, but it had to be done 3: Things will get a little more interesting and bloody from here :] As well, for you readers that like to review or even PM, who you kindly take the time to voice your opinion on who the romance should be between? Cicero and Rovaan are the choices.
Anyway, thank you for reading!