[[[*]]]
From the ashes of the fire from the Empire,
A lone babe found under roots of the Falinesti.
Peace will be infrequent and fleeting,
The wandering city will be finally rooted.
Horizons of reddened ash shall foretold,
While the black gates test the worthy.
The true Voice will prevail at any cost,
Through the unseen and most unlikely.
Not all those who wander are lost.
[[[[*]]]]
Tirdas, 25th of Sun's Dusk, 4E 201
A lone redheaded wood elf lounged in the tall grass of one of many beautiful forest groves of Falkreach Hold, after clearing the area of spriggans. Her battered black journal lay open on her toned stomach as the owner contemplated what to write in it.
So instead she let her crimson head lay back on the mossy ground, exhaling in peacefulness. She felt calm and timeless when she was in-tune with nature, reminding her of what it meant to be elven.
She was one of the few true elvenhien left. Most mer had evolved to only live just older than humans, but she was one of the last that had been blessed with long life by the gods. Was it really a blessing though? Or more a curse?
The time of elves was coming to an end, more so now the Thalmor are bent on taking over the world. So now, her only company were humans. Humans that grow old, wither and die.
That's why it was better to not get attached. Or so she kept telling herself.
Clear opened her emerald eyes and gazed up at the fire-lit sky of dawn. She raised her right hand towards the heavens as if to reach the gods.
'What is my part in all of this?' She thought silently, scowling at the sky. Then her eyes drifted to the silver ring on her still outstretched right hand.
She watched how the morning sun glistened off the metal, decorating the moon and star with flecks of oranges and red.
The ring of the Nerevarine.
Her ring.
Just who was she really? She held so many titles over the years, she had fulfilled so many prophecies...but who was she really?
Was she the Nerevarine? Or the Champion of Cyrodiil or now the Dragonborn? Why did the old gods chose her? And who was she to them exactly ?
She had so many questions... yet brooding over them would not do.
Clear sighed and sat up, storing her journal back in her small pack which fitted nicely with her Nightingale armour.
Over the past three months while she had been running from the title of Dragonborn, Clear had been working away with the Thieves Guild in Riften. She had pretty much spent time running with every faction in Tamriel over the years, but thievery had not been one of them. She was presented with an opportunity to join, so she took it.
She had been hard at work the past months to keep her mind occupied, discovering a corruption in leadership in the guild, uncovering a conspiracy, becoming a Nightingale of Nocturnal and restoring the Thieves Guild to its former glory.
She had been named Master of the Thieves Guild just before she left. It was just another title and Clear did not want it. So she left the guild in the hands of Brynjolf, the only person she let herself become close to in the guild.
She told herself once again: it was better not to become attached.
Besides, the lone wood elf preferred travelling alone.
'Woosh'
Clear's hand flew to her bleeding cheek where a knife had grazed past and was on the instant alert, bow drawn and ebony arrow notched at the ready.
She was at an disadvantage, her assailant could see her but Clear knew not where they were. She dove behind a tree and let her mind scan out, searching for any sort of life force.
She heard a whinny of a horse and a thunder of hooves. Stepping out from behind the tree trunk she loosed two arrows at once, aiming to wound not kill. Clear knew she hit her mark when she heard a female scream and a body thud as the unknown woman fell from her steed.
"Shadowmere, kill her!" The fallen woman screeched and the next thing Clear knew was out of the trees a large, magnificent ebony horse with glowing red eyes charged at her.
'Did she say Shadowmere?' Clear thought sharply, studying the horse as it charged closer. Cautiously, she took a risk and lowered her bow.
"Shadowmere? Is that you girl?" She asked the horse softly, holding her hand out to calm the creature.
The horse slowed its charge and then stopped all together a few feet away from the wood elf. Its head cocked to the side slightly, as if it was surveying the small woman before it.
"Kill her Shadowmere! I command it!" The fallen woman screeched again in agony from where she fell.
The horse looked back at its fallen rider and then turned its head back to look at the wood elf, intelligence showing in its crimson eyes.
Then it charged.
Before Clear had time to react she was pushed back slightly as a rough tongue attacked her face and the animal danced around her whinnying and nuzzling the elf's face.
"Shadowmere! It is you!" Clear cried happily, stroking the beast thick fur vigorously, exuberant to have her old friend and companion back.
"But how is it you? You died almost one hundred and fifty years ago? Let me get a look at you..." Clear stepped back and laughed musically as the animal arched its neck and pawed the ground with its ebony hooves.
"You must have been reincarnated...as a male I see?" Clear asked the horse, who snorted in reply and nuzzled her once more.
Clear laughed once more. The gods never ceased to surprise her. But that brought her back to the question, why was Shadowmere here?
Drawing her long ebony sword, Clear walked over to where the wounded woman was pinned to the floor by arrows, absently noting that Shadowmere was walking behind her, never leaving her side.
The arrows pinned the blond woman to the ground by both of her shoulders, covering her in a pool of blood.
"Shadowmere, you traitorous bastard!" The woman hissed in pain, glaring at the horse.
"Dark Brotherhood..." Clear spoke in a soft but deadly voice, resting the tip of her blade against the woman's exposed throat. "Obviously you have abandoned the Five Tenants; otherwise you wouldn't be attacking me." Clear spoke harshly, applying more pressure to her blade.
The blonde woman look confused.
"Listen Dragonborn, I don't know what you know about the Five Tenants but you were a contract. Nothing else." The woman spat at Clear, yet she was obviously intrigued by her failed kill.
"What have you done to my horse?!" The woman demanded, looking over at her steed. Clear jabbed her blade further into the woman's neck.
"I don't think you're in any position to give demands, but seeing as I once owed you some allegiance I'm willing to be merciful." Clear sheathed her blade and sat down besides the woman, leaving the arrows pinning her securely to the forest ground.
"Now, I just want to talk. Who are you?" The wood elf asked, smooth voice washing over the wounded woman, coaxing information out of her.
"My name is Astrid; I am the leader of the Dark Brotherhood."
"Wrong, the Night Mother is the leader of the Dark Brotherhood." Clear counteracted sternly watching Astrid become even more confused.
"No...We abandoned the tenants years ago. It is my Brotherhood now. I am its leader. How do you know so much?" Astrid asked vehemently.
Clear remained calm, trying to be as civil as possible to get information.
"I have ran with the Dark Brotherhood twice. First I was only low in the ranks but I was betrayed on a job by a fellow murderer and thrown in prison in 3E 403. The next time I ran with them was two hundred years ago where Lucien Lachance, my dear friend, gave me Shadowmere as a gift and I rose to Listener."
Astrid eyes were wide and unbelieving. "Listener..."
Clear then stood up, anger and annoyance rising though her.
"How can a once magnificent and honour bound Brotherhood fall down to this?! You turned your backs on the Night Mother and your duty as an assassin. I know that murder is considered evil, but we have always done what we must to keep the balance in life – and you have run it to the ground!" Clear almost shouted at the woman, but then calmed herself and began to pull the arrows out of Astrid's body.
"Shadowmere is my friend; he is not a possession to own. He is now free from you to go where he likes. I suggest you go back and make your amends with the Night Mother. May Sithis have mercy on your soul." The small elf said softly, an old fire of her assassin days shining in her emerald eyes.
Astrid staggered to her feet, surprised that mercy would be shown.
"Will you not be returning, Listener?" Astrid asked, somewhat humbly. Clear shook her head, absently patting Shadowmere.
"No. My time as an assassin is over. Just know that if you ever take me as a contract again, I will find you and I will cleanse your entire sanctuary like I did with Cheydinhal all those years ago."
Astrid nodded and staggered off.
Clear sighed and leant against Shadowmere for support.
"I suppose everything happens for a reason...are you staying with me, old friend?" Clear sighed, circuming to morose thoughts once more.
Shadowmere dipped his head in answer and pawed at the ground.
"I'm going to have to get used to referring to you as a boy..." Clear laughed musically and gracefully leapt onto the magnificent animal's saddle rubbing a hand along his neck.
"Come on then old boy; let's go for a run for old time's sake. What do you say?" Clear let out a chiming giggle as Shadowmere reared in response and leant forward expertly as he jumped into a gallop.
Clear literally threw caution to the wind and forgot about her entire identity for a few blissful moments as she and Shadowmere raced though the forest in a black and crimson blur.