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Death Incarnate

In the mud

She had a choice. She could lie here, naked, cold, in the mud, or she could get up, rinse the muck off her and put her clothes on. Her shoulder still burned from the arrow wound, and all her bones felt painful and brittle. The healing spells the old man had cast were still slowly doing their work. She didn't know if she was fit to walk, or run, or do anything.

Before she could make the choice, a warm object nudged the back of her head. Again. She lifted her face out of the mud and saw a black horse's muzzle hovering in front of her eyes.

Shadowmere had saved her and how he'd come back to take her back to Sanctuary. There, she'd have to report to Astrid that she'd succeeded in making the Emperor's soup taste slightly peculiar. Astrid would win no matter how it went – either she'd have the victory of Siari fleeing and being out of her hair forever, or she'd disgrace her pseudo-daughter by blaming her for the botched assassination attempt. Nobody would believe Siari, everybody would think she was trying to dodge the blame for the failure by implicating Astrid.

Trying to get to her hands and feet on shaky, painful limbs, she recalled everything that had happened. She'd tried to poison the Emperor's soup and had succeeded, except she'd fallen for the old switcheroo and given the soup a slight tinge of liquorice. There had been a chase, to the tower, and from there, she'd taken her own life, or at least attempted to, by jumping into the river far below. There'd been an arrow too, as if that would have made a difference.

But before she'd jumped, Maro had said something… something about Sanctuary.

Fuck, Sanctuary! Sanctuary! The bastard had said he was going to slaughter everyone! Oh Sithis, no! She'd be too late already! Damn it! She had to hurry, maybe she could still make it, maybe she could still warn them!

She dragged herself out of the mud, staggered to the small brook nearby and crawled into the cold water, rinsing the filth off her. She crawled back out, grimacing as she put on her clothes, and with a lot of pained effort, hauled herself onto Shawdowmere's back, something she wouldn't have been able to do had the beast not obligingly kneeled, but before mounting the horse, she tore off a strip of cloth from one of her spare shirts, grabbed some charcoal from the remains of a campfire, and left the piece of fabric lying under a stone at the door of the old man's cabin, with written on it simply,

I'M SO SORRY

She was surprised at herself and at how much she actually meant it.

As soon as she was firmly seated, Shadowmere shot off, even faster than it had ever run. In a way, Siari realized as she spent the ride half-conscious with her head on the beast's manes, in a way this was good news. If Shadowmere was galloping hell for leather, it meant that not only did he know Sanctuary was in danger, but it also meant he still saw a chance to make it in time. The Night Mother must have sent out a cry for help to the beast. Did She know her Listener was still alive? Somehow Siari didn't think so.

They thundered across the plains, through mountain passes and through forests, Shadowmere not slowing down even once, even as the foam flew from his lips. Even this daedric beast had its limits.

Siari slowly felt herself convalesce, the pain gradually lessening despite the constant shocks from Shadowmere's galloping, and her mind slowly becoming more focused, her memories more clear. The Penitus Oculatus, the fuckers had reneged on their deal with Astrid, and that bastard Maro had given the order to exterminate the Brotherhood. Everyone had simply betrayed everyone. She felt her teeth clench in disgust, and forced them to let go.

She blasted past Falkreath at dusk, her gut cramped as she came nearer and nearer to Sanctuary. Shadowmere was giving his everything, neighing and whining in effort as he thundered through the forest south of the town, clearing the last distance to Sanctuary.

As Shadowmere's last energy dwindled, Siari only felt herself become stronger and stronger, and when the door to Sanctuary was only a minute away, she realized she was back to full strength, her body healed and ready for action. She hoped it wouldn't be necessary yet, rather than no longer necessary at all.

Shadowmere took her to the edge of the forest, in sight of the rock face, before abruptly stopping, its legs shaking. As soon as Siari had hopped off, the beast collapsed on the grass, spent. Siari checked to see if its flanks were still moving up and down, and as soon as she'd made sure, she sprinted towards Sanctuary.

What she saw before she reached the door made her heart briefly stop.

Upside down, hung from the tree branches and then nailed to the trunk by more than a dozen of arrows, was Festus Krex, the old man left outside as a trophy, or a warning, or maybe just a pointless display of cruelty. She clapped a hand over her mouth, tears burning in her eyes as her heart literally, physically hurt from the sight.

She was too late! The cheerful, slightly patronizing old mage would never raid the pantry for sweetrolls again.

Maybe… maybe she could still save some people. The door stood open, and there were noises coming from inside. The fight was still going on! She ran inside, down the cave, her boots clapping on the stone. She saw Veezara's body on the ground, an arrow through his forehead. Oh Sithis, no!

She sped past him, fresh tears blurring her vision, and emerged into the atrium. She didn't even notice the smell of refined oil, her world simply shrunk to the three fighting figures before her. A massive werewolf swept its claws across the face of one of the Imperial soldiers, raking his face open and breaking his neck, but before Siari could reach them, the second soldier had thrust her spear forward, the tip sinking into the werewolf's body, upward through his vital organs. Arnbjorn fell, and the Penitus Oculatos member climbed on his dying body, cutting his roars of furious pain short with her short sword.

Siari skidded to a halt behind the woman, and noticed the long blonde hair. This was the bitch who had shot her with the arrow in Solitude. Still unnoticed, she grabbed the long, bronze poker out of the fireplace behind the blonde Bosmer, and as the soldier still sat on her hands and knees, Siari roared and rammed the poker up through the seat of her leather pants, impaling her with all her strength, so hard the poker's dull tip came out, emerging upward just below the Bosmer's ribcage.

The woman let out a shrieking cry and fell to her side, the poker's handle sticking out her backside. Then she noticed the bloody tip, and realized what had happened to her, wailing in horrified agony. Siari didn't end her suffering, and not even because she didn't have the time to finish her. She ran on, to the Night Mother's chamber, and movement from the narrow air shaft caught her eye – she was just in time to see two small legs kicking the air and then disappearing up into the ceiling.

At least one of them would survive this night.

"S… Siari."

That was Gabriella's voice! The Dunmer waddled closer, cradling her bleeding arm.

"What happened? They just…" Her burning eyes were fraught with confusion. "Did you betray us? Please, Siari, say it wasn't you?"

Siari took her by the shoulders, looked her in the eye and shook her head. When Gabriella found out who had really doomed them all, perhaps she'd wish it had been Siari.

"Thank Sithis…" Gabriella breathed. "We have to – "

"Two more, over here!"

Three Penitus Oculatus soldiers came running into the Night Mother's chamber, blocking the exit. "Butcher them all! Death to the assassins!"

One of the soldiers swung his weapon, slicing low, but Siari backstepped just in time, swiping her dagger at his face but missing it by a hair's breadth. Gabriella, unable to fight with her injured arm, staggered backwards, clumsily dodging the second soldier's sword swing. The third had a staff, holding it high, and Siari was just in time to fall flat, sending the fire streaking over her.

The soldier nearest her brought his sword up to nail her to the ground, but before he could, Siari's dagger flashed, chopping into his achilles' tendon, severing it and sending him screaming to the ground.

As she got to her feet, she saw, from the corner of her eye, the other soldier swinging his sword downwards, chopping into Gabriella's skull. Her bunkmate hung shaking from the blade, saliva running from the corners of her mouth and mixing with the blood that streamed down.

Siari roared, diving at Gabriella's murderer and body-slammed into him, dodging another streak of fire without even realizing. She fell on top of the soldier and rammed her dagger down into his face, time and time, and time again, until his screams stopped and his face was only blood.

The next moment, something hard thwacked into her head and she fell over, the mage raising his staff to break her skull.

But before he could, a scimitar flashed behind him, hacking into his back, his eyes going wide. He fell, making place for Nazir to step in. "Siari, thank Sithis you're alive!" Then he noticed Gabriella, her head split. "Oh Gabriella," he moaned. "What happened here? How did they find us?"

Siari pointed at herself, then shook her head.

"Of course it wasn't you," Nazir, said quickly, kneeling by Gabriella. Her jaw still moved. Siari came to sit by her, tears streaming down her face. The only thing Gabriella was still capable of doing was snaking her shaking hand towards Siari and lacing her fingers into those of her bunkmate. Siari held her hand to her face, feeling it grow colder as Gabriella died.

"We have to go," Nazir said, taking Siari by the shoulders. "There might be more. We have to survive," he said to her, "We have to survive, for Gabriella and Veezara and Arnbjorn and everyone else."

Siari didn't want to survive. Not right now. She just wanted to sit next to Gabriella, crying over her death, and over the realization she only now had. Now that it was too late to tell her, too late to say she'd never had a friend like her, too late to say she'd enjoyed their late night, one-sided chats so much, too late to say she'd cared so deeply for her, now she realized the feelings she'd unknowingly hidden from herself, thinking she was incapable of feeling them.

Nazir tightened his grip and pulled Siari to her feet. "We can't help her, not now. We have to survive."

A hoarse, gurgling laugh came from behind them. The Penitus mage, his fingers feebly pulling his staff closer and closing around it, rasped, "You're not surviving this. Not one of you."

The head of the staff emitted an orange glow, and before Nazir could bring his weapon down, the weapon belched out a fan of fire, igniting the refined oil the Imperials had drenched the caves with. Nazir's blade came down, beheading the mage, but it was too late, the flames eagerly clawed out, greedily licking around and spreading over the oil at a terrifying pace.

"Siari!" Nazir shouted over the flames. "Come on!"

Siari grabbed him by his cloak as the heat rose. There was one person they hadn't found yet. He understood her look of urgency, but shook his head. "We can't look for Astrid now! We'll burn alive if we don't – "

Siari opened her mouth and, for the first time in years, let her voice cry out. "Ahhih!"

"Siari, we can't look for her now!" The heat became blistering, the flames roaring higher, covering the entire wall of the Night Mother's chamber and already spreading through the rest of Sanctuary.

"Ahhih!"

"Siari, come on!" Nazir took her by her upper arm and began dragging her outside, but he had to abort his attempt when the heat from the flames proved utterly impassable, trapping them both inside the Night Mother's resting place.

"Ahhih!"

You must save yourself, my Listener

The Night Mother's voice sounded clearly in her head.

"Ahhih!"

"Sithis," Nazir breathed. "We're trapped. We're… there's no way out."

Come to me, my Listener. Seek refuge in my arms.

There was no point shouting for Astrid. If she was even here at all, she was dead or would be soon.

"Siari," Nazir shouted at her, blisters already breaking out on his skin. She could feel the heat searing her own face too. "We're going to die here. I just want you to know that it's been – "

She shook her head to shut him up and grabbed him by the front of his cloak, dragging him towards the Night Mother's sarcophagus.

"What are you – "

The sarcophagus opened, its doors parting to reveal a desiccated, mummified corpse, the grin of death on its withered face.

I will keep you safe, my Listener. Come into my arms.

"You want me to go in there?"

Siari ignored Nazir's protest and pushed him inside, pressing herself against him as the doors closed.

There was only darkness, the warmth of Nazir's arms around her and the sound of two beating hearts and two breathing mouths. Not even the roar of the flames penetrated the sarcophagus' lid.

Close your eyes, Listener. You are safe here.

"There's… no heat. No noise," she heard Nazir say. "And the oxygen… This is…"

She gently placed her finger on his lips to stop him from speaking, and closed her eyes, resting her head on his shoulder. His hand slowly went down her lower back and came to rest on her behind, but it didn't matter. She supposed he just needed some human warmth.

She didn't know how much time had passed before the sarcophagus doors swung open, once again revealing the cave, this time entirely dark save for the light coming in from the ventilation shaft above. Everything was burned or melted, the corpses of the soldiers and Gabriella's body charred to black. She hadn't felt it, Siari tried to reassure herself.

The storm has passed. Now, only one thing remains for you, Listener.

Find Astrid. That was the only thing that needed to be done. To find her misguided, broken-hearted mother who had doomed them all because she'd felt betrayed by her favourite child. If she'd known it'd come to this… Should she have been more understanding? Siari was surprised to admit to herself that, yes, she should have shown Astrid some empathy, some support. Astrid hadn't made it easy, but still… Siari had failed her. Not betrayed her, but failed her nonetheless. All of this could have been avoided if she'd just been able to show Astrid the love and patience her 'mother' had given to her in the beginning.

Nazir said something about going outside to check for survivors, but Siari didn't hear him. She didn't have to go outside. Astrid was somewhere in Sanctuary, she was certain of it. And despite the horror she'd inflicted on her family, Siari knew Astrid needed her daughter.

She walked the silent halls, the burned bodies silent witnesses to the slaughter that had happened here. Imperials and assassins, mortal enemies in life, now united in death, spending eternity together. Siari only hoped they were all at peace now.

As she wandered the halls, her heart was in complete turmoil. What was all this? The sudden caring about people, even enemies? Those realizations hitting her one after the other, things she didn't think she could feel, assaulting her mind with their gut-wrenching reality? Tears she shed for people other than herself, love she felt for other people than herself, what was all this?

And the worst was still to come. She knew seeing Astrid, one way or the other, would make all the dams come tumbling down. She dreaded it, but anticipated it all the same. The worst thing about it would be all the accountability. Having to face all the things she'd done, face them as more then 'jobs' or 'assignments', but as people whose lives she'd ended. But she knew that if she ever wanted to live again, rather than just being a mindless, self-serving machine, she'd have to let it in and accept everything that came with it.

She closed her eyes when she opened the blackened door to Astrid's office, not knowing what she'd find there, but knowing it all the same.

"My child…" a broken, failing voice came. "You survived… thank Sithis."

Siari opened her eyes and she could feel it, physically, inside her chest, her heart slowly tearing in two.

Astrid lay there, splayed on the ground, smoke curling up from her body, everything but the left side of her face and her left arm burned to a horror of black and red. It looked as if the leather of her clothes had melted into her skin. One of her eyes was gone, turned to a milky blue-white ball resting in a blackened, cracked socket. The other was still lucid, looking straight at Siari.

She fell to her knees next to Astrid, taking her good hand.

"What have I done? To you, to all of us?" Astrid whispered, her voice as dry as her skin. She must be suffering immensely. "Look upon… what my desire for control has wrought."

Siari could say nothing, she could only weep for Astrid, as she'd wept for all her brothers and sisters, only even more. They'd driven each other to this, by thinking only of themselves and letting their own pride blind them to the other's needs, which had been so simple to fulfil if they'd only bothered to look.

And Astrid knew it too, realized it far too late, just like her.

"I wish you could speak, Siari," Astrid said. "I wish I could hear you say something, just once. To hear you say you forgive me. Or at least that you still love me."

But she couldn't. All she could do was hold Astrid's hand in both of hers, and hold it against her cheek.

"I've always loved you, Siari. Please don't ever doubt that. I've done things… protected you from more things than you know. But in the end… I was blinded. By my own pride, by my fear that everything was falling apart around me."

Siari knew. But she only knew it now, when it was far too late.

"I'm sorry, Siari. So sorry."

So was she.

"I prayed to the Night Mother for one final contract. And she answered. She sent her angel to fulfil it."

It was only now that Siari saw the silver circle around her mother's body, and the melted lumps of wax that had been candles before the caves had started to burn.

No, no, no, Astrid couldn't ask this of her.

"I performed the Black Sacrament for the last time. What I've done to you… to the Night Mother, to all of us… I have to pay the price for it. She wants this… and I want this."

Siari shook her head furiously, rocking back and forth, still holding Astrid's hand.

"I know… and I'm sorry to ask this last thing of you, but… This must happen, and the only one who has the right is you. And I… want to sleep quietly, I need the hand that closes my eyes to belong to the only living person I still love more than anything."

Astrid couldn't ask her to do such a thing. To murder her own mother. She'd seen one mother die already, she couldn't bear another.

"Take my knife, Siari." Beside Astrid lay her weapon, a curved, wicked-looking thing with a jagged hand guard. It wasn't an ordinary weapon, but that was all that Astrid had ever divulged on the subject. "Release me, and exact the Night Mother's justice."

She felt snot run down her upper lip, but couldn't care. She could only weep and hold Astrid's hand. How had they let it come to this? How could they both have been so prideful, so unwilling to see what the consequences of their childish power struggle would be? All she wanted was to turn back time, even for a little bit, to give Astrid the time and consideration she'd needed. She hadn't asked for much, just understanding. Just a little effort could have stopped all this.

"Siari, my child… please. I suffer. I suffer and I can't be saved. Show me your forgiveness by ending the pain and sorrow."

Siari still couldn't bring herself to pick up the dagger.

"I will die, Siari. Nothing can stop that now. Let it be the hand of love that brings me release."

The Night Mother had answered her Sacrament, and even if it hadn't been performed, she would still never have suffered Astrid to live after what she'd done. Siari had learned forgiveness and love in these few moments, but she knew the Night Mother would never know those feelings.

"Siari. End my pain."

Her trembling fingers closed around the handle of the dagger. She'd always thought that when the time came, she'd eliminate Astrid as easily as she'd committed all the other murders. But now that the time was there, all she wanted was for Astrid to live, and for things to go back to the way they had been before. But her mother was right. She had to be the one to do it, and the fact that it caused her unbearable pain to do so was exactly the reason why.

She set the tip of the weapon against Astrid's chest, right next to her sternum.

"Goodbye, sweet child. I should never have doubted you."

And I should never have dismissed you.

"I'm sorry for everything. And I love you."

Siari knew Astrid saw she felt the same way. Then she closed her eyes, and without further hesitation, pushed the handle of the dagger down. She felt the burned skin crack under the blade's pressure, and then the smooth sliding as the steel went between her ribs and pierced her heart.

She heard Astrid suck in air sharply through her teeth, and when she opened her eyes, her mother's pain was over.

It struck her like a rolling wave, an avalanche of emotion, all the things she'd denied for years, crashing down on her. The flowers in the hand of the beggar she'd murdered, the warmth of the dying girl in Jorrvaskr, pressed against her body, gurgling as the life poured out of her, the eyes of the other girl when her boot drove the dagger inside her lungs, the leader fighting to his last breath despite knowing he would not survive, the horror of the marrying couple being crushed by the falling gargoyle, Lanaris the young guardswoman, her life cut short for Siari's convenience, suffering the indignity of having her defenseless body stripped of its clothing and found by her colleagues the same way, the face of Commander Maro, dead for all intents and purposes, murdered along with his son in all ways except the physical.

They hadn't been scenery, they hadn't been targets, they'd been people. Living breathing people, with hopes and dreams and problems and feelings, and she'd taken everything away from them. The beggar would never pick flowers and savour the small things. The people in Jorrvaskr would never realize their dream of being admired fighters for right, the marrying couple would never see the peace between Empire and Stormcloak they'd hoped to embody, Lanaris would never marry and sing her child to sleep, and Commander Maro would forever be a shadow, his revenge hollow as all revenge was, his son never to succeed him and bring him pride when he was an old man.

The three victims she'd killed, their throats cut just so she could save her own meagre life and make an impression on the woman who now lay at her knees, dead and burned beyond recognition.

She hugged herself, rocking back and forth, wailing and wailing the reality of it all hit home. She should have let Astrid kill her right there instead of choosing her own life over that of three innocent people, a life that had gone on to cause nothing but misery, death and destruction to all the lives that had touched it since.

And yet she lived, it wasn't fair, it wasn't just. She wailed on, Astrid's hand on one hand, and her knife in the other, crying tears of release as the emotions she'd always lied to herself about never having, crashed down on top of her, their tide tossing her around in their immense power.

What had she done? How many innocent lives had she destroyed? And how many guilty ones? She had no right to either, not even Grelod. She'd done it all just so she could feel like she could belong somewhere, just so she could tell herself she was the chosen of some kind of god, some kind of Daedric entity who had chosen her as her chief agent. All the pride at being the Listener was smashed apart by the wave of guilt and grief that washed her away.

She threw her head back and screamed, cursing the vile entity that had made her do all these terrible things. She only produced inarticulate sounds, but she didn't care, all she wanted to do was let out her pain and hatred for everything that had brought her to this point. She screamed until her voice broke, one curse after another, all at the Night Mother for all the things she'd caused, all at Sithis for being the Night Mother.

When her voice, weak from years of disuse, cracked and all she could produce was a wheeze, she expected the Night Mother to speak in her head, threatening her for screaming such horrible things at her, or trying to soothe her and manipulate her into doing even more terrible things, but there was only silence.

Good. She didn't need the rotten, accursed Night Mother spouting more venom in her head for what she was about to do.

She took the fringe on her forehead in one hand, and set the sharp edge of Astrid's knife, still red with blood, against her throat, breathing furiously through her nose and feeling her face contorted in a terrible grimace.

Perhaps there was a way, somehow, to reunite with Astrid and the others and become the family they'd all wanted to be, but she doubted it. Neither she nor Astrid would go to a place where they'd be allowed the joy of reunion.

She swallowed, feeling her larynx push against the knife edge, the metal shaking in her hand.

She could do it. Just draw the blade across her throat and bleed out, letting her blood mix with that of Astrid and joining her mother in a final embrace. It would be the easy thing to do.

But she'd denied her own terrible deeds to herself all her life, and she had to stop running.

She sent the knife flying, hearing it strike the stone wall and clatter to the ground, then broke down, sobbing into her hands.

Not like this. She didn't have the right to release, she didn't deserve to just walk out of this life and escape the payment for her misdeeds.

There was no voice in her head, not this time, but she still knew what she had to do.