Author's Note: Hello everyone! Here's chapter 29 - - hope you guys enjoy! As always, thanks to all you readers out there! You guys make my day!
Chapter 29: Love and Deceit
Vottur propped himself against the wall by the entrance of the Winking Skeever. His black hood masked his appearance, though it was late in the stormy night, and there was possibly no need for it. His dark eyes watched the townspeople scatter out of the pouring rain, as an angry bolt of lightening illuminated the sky.
"By the gods, a man could catch his death out here!" A frantic patron shouted as Vottur watched him run into the tavern, nearly blown through the front door by the forceful wind. Vottur mentally shrugged to himself, for he didn't bother himself over something as insignificant as the weather. The only thing that mattered to him was the business at hand. He stood, arms folded, watching the castle from a distance and waiting for Violet to come out with some news.
Strangely enough, Maro's briefing with Tullius and the Dragonborn had been planned to occur early in the morning. However, Violet's previous attempt to attend had been squashed due to a delay in scheduling. Supposedly, the Dragonborn had dropped in unexpectedly at the break of dawn, informing both the Commander and the General that he'd return later. However, he gave them no explanation of why, much to Tullius' disapproval. As a result, it had forced Violet and Vottur to wait until night, when the briefing had resumed.
Another quick flash of lightning revealed a glimpse of Violet leaving Castle Dour - - only this time was different. There was someone with her - - someone Vottur never thought he'd have another chance to lay eyes on in a thousand lifetimes.
His blood ran hot at the sight of that man. He watched as the fellow, clad in heavily decorated Penitus Oculatus armor, stood speaking to Violet in the rain. As they discussed something unknown to the Vampire, his dark eyes traced the features of the man, noting every nuance of his appearance. Everything was a match, from his narrowed and cunning Imperial features to his every mannerism.
Vottur felt an intense urge to run out into the storm and rip the man's head clean off of his shoulders. Every muscle in his body grew tense with white hot rage, as he straightened and watched the two closer.
...
A flash came into his mind. He could see the clear night sky overhead. He could feel the soft hand of his beautiful wife clutching his own. It was as if he'd traveled back in time - - back to that fateful night. It was the night that had changed his life forever.
"Vo, I swear that castle was so big! I felt so tiny standing next to it...We should visit Solitude again. I never had a chance to see any of this before." Mina beamed, her dark Vampiric eyes twinkling in the pale moonlight, as the two walked along a path outside of the large capital.
He smiled affectionately at his young, sweet wife. He ran his large calloused hand through her blonde curly locks, pulling her in and kissing her. "I'll show you the world, Mina. I'd give it to you if it were mine, but I guess that'd be stealing." He kidded, watching her chuckle at his pitiful joke.
"Oh, Vo, you big silly Nord! You should've stopped at the first line!" Mina playfully swatted him away. "But truly, this was wonderful...If only..." Mina trailed off, her voice sounding a bit troubled.
Vottur eased back in, taking her by the hand once more. "What is it, Mina?" He asked softly.
"It's just...I hate what we have to do now...You know...Now that we're..." She averted her eyes from him in an act of shame. "I don't know if it's right, Vo..."
"I know it's different, Mina. Just give it a chance, love. You'll get used to it." He coaxed, smiling widely and showing his fangs to get a rise out of her.
Mina chuckled. "Vo...I'm serious. I don't know if I can do this..." Her voice tapered off into an ocean of uncertainlty.
Vottur could feel a pain in his chest from seeing Mina in such a state. He hated to see her troubled, but he knew that living as Vampires would be better in the long run. He pulled her into him, holding her close. "I know...Mina, I know it's hard for an innocent thing like you to get used to it...But just think of the possibilities." He looked into her dark, worried eyes. "We will be together forever, Mina. We can live on and on and be young all our days. I really can show you the world...And this - - this thing we have to do...It's such a small price to pay to be with you forever..." He spoke softly, gently stroking her hair.
"I- I guess you're right, I just- -"
"Who goes there?!" A loud, demanding voice interrupted his beloved wife. Vottur released Mina, stepping ahead of her. A group of guards stood at the ready, with their leader standing at the front with his torch held high. He was an Imperial man with sharp, scowling features. He stood stroking his dark facial hair as if in contemplation.
"I'm just a common man, sir. I mean you no harm. My wife and I are travelling to my homestead." Vottur explained, casting his glance away and hoping their affliction wouldn't be noticed.
"In the dead of night?" The officer raised an eyebrow. "Why is that?"
Vottur quickly glanced back at his wife Mina, who he could easily see had been paralyzed with fear. She stood with her hands firmly clasped at her front, as if to keep them from trembling. She hung her head low, staring at her feet. He quickly whipped back around, scrambling for an answer. "I took my wife to see Solitude for the first time, sir. We ran out of coin and couldn't stay at the inn. We had no choice but to leave for home."
The officer smirked. "Funny you should mention that. I retrieved word a couple of days back that some creatures of the night had been praying on the people of Karthwasten. Apparently, they were travelling this very direction. There have been reports of two of them - - a male and a female, both Nords like yourselves. Normally, I have far more important matters to tend to, but to have filthy abominations prowling around near my outpost and the Emperor's quarters so freely doesn't look well on my part. I don't need petty threats to tarnish my name. You understand, don't you?"
Vottur could feel the end coming. He heard a slight whimper from his now trembling wife, causing his heart to sink. If these bastards had found them out, it would be his own fault. It was Mina who'd wanted to be cured, not him. He didn't know what to do other than to act oblivious. "I see. We'll make sure to watch out for them." He replied, his voice coarse and tight. He began to slowly walk forward, as if he were an innocent passer-by simply taking heed to the officer's word.
"Halt! Not so fast, lad." The officer commanded, as his guards took a defensive stance. "I haven't seen you make eye contact this whole time. What's wrong? Surely a big, hardy Nord such as yourself couldn't be shy." The man taunted, his voice dripping with a sarcastic undertone.
This was it. Vottur had little choice left. These guards were onto him, and would surely kill the both of them.
"Look at me, lad." The officer demanded.
Vottur stood calmly staring at his boots. He slowly turned back to his beloved wife. Maybe he could give her a chance. It was the least he could do after putting her in such a dangerous situation. "Mina..." He whispered softly. "Run..."
"V-Vo?" Her voice quivered as she stood frozen.
"RUN!" Vottur screamed, causing her to flee into the woods, as he drew out his menacing warhammer and lunged into the guards.
The officer turned tail, getting behind his men. "Kill him! You two!" He barked at two of his men. "Follow the female! I want her dead, too! We can't have these abominations stagnating our townspeople!"
Vottur crashed his ebony warhammer into the skull of a guard with such force that it caved his helmet in. The blow crushed the bone beneath, as blood trickled from the side of the man's head. He then brought down his mighty weapon into the back of a fleeing guard, crushing his spinal column and rendering him useless.
He fought through the men, taking injury after injury from their quick blades, until he'd freed himself enough to flee for Mina. He bolted off the path and headed for cover in the thick forest beneath. His body felt numb and sick from dread mixed with adrenaline and injury. He had to find her! He couldn't let those Imperial bastards get to her!
"MINA!" He yelled frantically, sprinting as fast as his thick, muscular legs could carry him. "By the gods, Mina! PLEASE! WHERE ARE YOU?!"
Deeper into the darkness he ran, feeling his heart sink further into Oblivion. "MINA!" He screamed, beads of sweat now trailing hot down his battered face.
Suddenly, he stopped dead in his tracks. Two guards, each holding an arm, were carrying his wife's lifeless body back out of the forest. The front of her dress was bathed in her blood from a wound piercing her heart.
"No..." Vottur's lip quivered. No. This couldn't be happening. This wasn't real. She was alive just a moment ago. She was supposed to escape. To live. Vottur's face twisted in a fit of violent rage. "NOOOOOOOOO!" He cried out, alerting the two guards. They dropped Mina's body, immediately unsheathing their weapons.
Vottur gripped his warhammer, as he and the guards came rushing into each other. He hit the first with such force, that his helmet flew from his head as the trauma from the fierce blow cracked his neck. His body fell to the ground, limp and lifeless. The second guard, witnessing Vottur's intense strength, began to turn and flee from the huge Nord.
"NOOO! YOU WILL PAY FOR THIS! YOU WILL ALL PAY FOR THIS!" Vottur caught up to the frightened man's heels, bringing his warhammer down over his head and crushing the top of the man's helmet, piercing his skull. The man fell down, face first, spitting up blood and violently gagging.
Vottur loomed over the man, kicking him forcefully and causing his body to roll over. He stood staring into the man's dying eyes, panting and growling with seething rage. He knelt down, yanking the dying man up by the front of his uniform. "YOU! YOU SEE THAT!" He pointed at a distance, where his wife's body lay limp. "THAT WILL BE THE LAST THING YOU EVER SEE!" He yelled savagely, now violently shaking the dying guard.
"AAAAAAHHHHHHHH!" Vottur threw the man down and stood over him. He wanted to make his dying moments be the worst. He wanted to crush the man until he'd turned into a fine paste of blood, crushed bone, muscle, and ligaments. He took his warhammer, hitting the man time and again. He listened to his dying wails until the man fell silent. He didn't care. He crushed and crushed until the bastard appeared nearly unrecognizable.
His fit of rage slowly drained away, as his grip loosened, causing his warhammer to thud to the forest floor. He fell to his knees, cradling his face into his large hands and feeling his hot tears wash into the blood they'd been stained with.
He scrambled up, drunk from hate and despair. He staggered over to his beloved Mina, who's body lay frail and lifeless on the cold ground. He fell beside her, sobbing and holding her in his arms. "Oh, Mina...It's my fault..." He whispered, crying and pulling her into him.
...
Thunder roared violently, as another bout of lightning pulled Vottur back to the present. He watched as the the two figures parted ways, and the man vanished back into Castle Dour. He looked on as Violet marched swiftly in his direction.
"Come with me. I need to have a word with you outside the city gates." Violet approached him with a look of urgency hanging on her features.
He gave a final glance back to where the other figure once stood, wishing he could tear the man to pieces. He forcefully pushed the urge back, following the young woman out of Solitude and into the storm.
...
The large city gate slammed shut, closing the two of them off from Solitude. Violet walked a few paces off the road, turning to Vottur with a grave look on her features.
"My father plans to attack the Dark Brotherhood soon. He and Tullius plan to infiltrate Falkreath on the first day of Sun's Dawn. They want to use the Legion. They plan on exterminating most of the Sanctuary, save for a few hostages. They'll use them to gain access to Dawnstar, thus annihilating the Brotherhood for good. We need to tell Ava." Violet explained urgently. Without warning, she proceeded to walk swiftly down the road.
Vottur quickly came up behind her, grabbing her by the arm. "That man...Was he your father?" He asked, nearly in a growl.
"Yes...Yes, I'm afraid so. He's a vile man. We need to make haste, Vottur. I don't want him to succeed."
"What...happened?" Ava tried pushing herself up, but weakly crumpled back into her bed.
"We heard you screaming in your room, and came to find you passed out in your own vomit. You've been delirious for quite a few days, dear." Babette informed her with a look of concern on her face. "In all my three-hundred years, I've never seen anything quite like it."
Ava placed a weak hand on her throbbing forehead, feeling rather faint. She scanned about herself to see Cicero sitting on a chair beside her bed. His gloved hands were clasped and he wore an expression of both worry and exhaustion. Ava attempted to recall previous events, but her mind proved to be much too foggy and disoriented at the moment.
"I...don't...remember..." Ava mumbled weakly, seeing both sets of eyes fixated on her.
"Just rest, dear." Babette insisted in a motherly fashion, while tapping her gently on the hand. The tiny Vampire turned to Cicero. "Take good care of her." She patted the jester on the shoulder, Ava noting a subtle, worried smile between the two.
Babette quietly left the room, leaving the two alone. "How is Listener feeling?" Cicero asked in a gentle, hushed manner. His voice lacked its usual jubilant tone, instead sounding fatigued and concerned. He scooted his chair closer to Ava, as she began to feel an overwhelming comfort from his presence.
"A little groggy..." She admitted, casting a quick glance his way and noting that his face was laced with fear. Cicero and Babette had both acted as if she'd been on the brink of death, and for all she knew, she may have been.
"At least Listener is speaking once more..." The jester's voice wavered. "Cicero wasn't sure you would come out of it..." Ava watched as he twittled his thumbs anxiously, looking down at the floor. Cicero looked as if he'd seen a ghost. His eyes were heavy and tired, as if he'd not had much sleep at all.
"It must've been pretty bad..." She remarked, judging that she had been very ill from her dark family's reactions.
"Oh, it was, Listener...You slept in silence for days and days...Cicero didn't know what to do...How to help you...He could only watch and wait. Yes, watch and wait by Listener's side, hoping she would wake..." He frowned, his eyes troubled and dark with sleep deprivation.
"Oh..." Ava frowned as well, feeling guilty that her trusty Keeper had been so troubled by her ill condition. He was so faithful, so trustworthy...Ava couldn't help but to be grateful for him. "I'm sorry I worried you..." She apologized, affectionately holding out her hand to him.
The jester stared at her outreached hand, as if studying what he should do with it. His eyes widened and his mouth gaped slightly, as he slowly brought a hesitant hand out to grasp her own. She held his hand gently, rubbing the velvety fabric of his glove. He'd been so good to her, she couldn't help but touch him. It seemed to come so effortlessly - - so easily at that point. Maybe she shouldn't have, she thought. Maybe it would send the wrong message. Who knew? Ava chose not to fret over it like she had in the past. Cicero had always been there, caring for and doting over her. Ava felt that he deserved her affection - - her gratitude.
"Listener need not apologize. Cicero is simply glad she is living and breathing..." He stated soberly, and quite unlike his usual foolish demeanor.
Ava smiled warmly. "Thank you..."
Cicero yawned abruptly, giving in to overwhelming fatigue. "Anything for you, Listener..." He trailed off, on the brink of collapsing from lack of sleep.
"I guess you are exhausted. Maybe you should rest - -" She stopped abruptly, as he lay his head over folded arms onto her lap, dozing off. Ava froze, feeling caught off-guard by his contact. Her eyes widened, watching him peacefully sleep with his jester's hat now half-off his crimson locks.
Poor thing. He'd been watching over her to the point of collapsing. Ava couldn't wipe the smile from her weak face. She realized she'd been in a very bad way, and even though she couldn't remember the details, she didn't feel worried with Cicero near. As always, he made it all better. What would she ever do without him? She gently pulled his jester's hat from his red tresses, setting it neatly to the side. Feeling an intense, uncontrollable wave of fondness spill over her, she began to gently stroke his crimson locks.
He mumbled and sighed softly at her touch as he slept peacefully. Ava couldn't explain why her walls fell down so quickly at that point, but they did. She simply couldn't help how she felt for him, no matter how hard she'd tried to avoid and repress it. It wasn't everyday that a woman found a man so devoted, even in such twisted circumstances. This man may have been troubled and foolish, but he was quite loyal and affectionate. He could be menacing and calculated, but he was also vunerable, saddened, and loving. He was perfect. Maybe Ava wasn't good at relationships. Maybe she didn't quite like herself enough. Maybe she couldn't be what he wanted her to be; but that never took away her feelings for her Keeper.
"I love you..." She whispered, closing her eyes and drifting back into slumber.
"Is something the matter, Vottur?" Violet raised an eyebrow, as she watched the large Nord carelessly sling a load of wood down by the campfire. He hadn't uttered a solitary word since they'd left for Dawnstar. Violet figured him to be the strong, silent type, but something had been a bit off about the way he'd been acting.
"No." He grunted, seating himself and pulling a bottle of Ale from a nearby knapsack.
Violet could tell he was obviously lying. He was a man of few words, but he hadn't acted quite this way until now. Vottur wore a bitter expression on his handsome face, and all the mannerisms and subtleties were there. He was clearly upset or angered. She simply hadn't discovered why.
Deciding to take the direct approach, she promptly folded her arms. "I don't believe you." She stated blatantly.
He glared at her as he tossed a piece of tender on the dancing flame. "I don't care." He growled.
"Why? I can easily detect that you're upset. Maybe I can assist you in some way." She persuaded, curious to know what was on the Vampire's mind. He was quite an enigma - - staying so very quiet and to himself. Something about his mysterious demeanor ignited Violet's natural curious tendencies.
"Nobody can help me..." He sneered, grabbing a nearby twig and breaking it in his hand. "What's done is done." He snarled, taking a large drink from the bottle in his other hand.
"Surely that's not true. Usually most problems have a solution. I have an expansive knowledge of many subjects; surely I can be of service to you." She suggested, feeling an urge to assist the seemingly troubled Nord.
"Unless you can bring back my dead wife, I doubt you'll do a damn thing to help me!" He snapped, causing Violet to pause. Vottur growled, throwing the bottle of Ale into the flame, bursting it and causing the fire to blaze brightly upward. This man was very troubled, indeed. He'd surely been hurt and heartbroken. She knew all too well what that felt like, even if perhaps in a different way.
"Oh. I'm terribly sorry for your loss, Vottur. May I ask how she passed?"
"NO!" Vottur roared, causing the young woman to cower. She could see the rage in his very being. His eyes grew wide and violent, as his veins bulged from his neck and his large hands clenched into fists. This was certainly a touchy subject for him. Perhaps she should have treaded elsewhere.
Violet took a deep breath, attempting to calm the Vampire. "My apologies, Vottur. I was merely curious. I believe I've overstepped my boundaries. It won't happen again, I assure you."
She watched as the man regained his composure, now clasping his large hands and gazing into the fire. "It's not you're fault. I guess you'll find out sooner or later, anyway. That man you were speaking to...So, you say he is your father..."
"Yes, unfortunately..." Violet remarked, feeling disgusted for having to claim Maro as her kin.
"He's responsible for my wife's death. He sent his men after us, and they killed my wife, Mina. I was young and foolish, and didn't have the sense realize just who he was. He was just another asshole soldier to me, at the time. If I had been smarter about things, I'd have hunted him down and killed him myself. I guess I just lost it when his men killed her...I buried her, and I took off wandering. I should've killed him myself by now. It's my fault, anyway..." He spoke in a low voice, barely above a whisper.
"I'm so sorry..." Violet apologized on behalf of her evil father. It was the least she could do, given that he was a vile being who hid under the cloak of justice. It certainly didn't surprise her - - Maro wasn't truly about his country or protection of his people, he was all for himself and his political status and reputation. Violet cringed from the very thought of that despicable man she had to call a father. "I'd certainly not put it past an isidious being like Maro. Believe me, if I have my say in this, you can tear his very heart out. You can avenge your wife. I'll see to it." She proclaimed, feeling a burning sense of justice in her heart.
The Vampire's eyes grew wide in surprise, as if he didn't expect her response. "...You mean that?" He inquired, his voice unsure.
"Certainly. I never knew your beloved, but I'm most certain she was a lucky woman to have such a devoted husband. It's hard to find a good, loyal man around these parts. I'll help you to the highest of my capabilities." Violet nodded, feeling a desire to fight the injustices her father had committed in the name of the Empire.
"Thank you...Violet..." The Vampire replied, her name gliding off his tongue and crashing into her like dark waters over a high cliff. There was just something about the way he said it, and the way he looked into her eyes. Somehow, she couldn't help but feel something from it. This man grew more intriguing by the minute.
Babette sat in the dark corner of the Windpeak Inn, quietly watching her prey. He was a traveller, and apparently a sot, considering he'd downed enough Ale to make a small army intoxicated. He was also an elderly man, much to Babette's approval. The older ones were easier to lure away. They had weakened senses, were less aware of their surroundings, and were more prone to sympathizing with a child in need.
"You, lass! Get...me...'nother...r-round, will ya?" He slurred, summoning the red-haired vixen that worked at the inn.
Babette watched with amusement as he sent the girl away with a drunken slap to the rear, in turn causing a retaliating slap to his face. "Haha...You're a f-feisty lass, eh...?" He cackled, tripping over his own intoxicated words.
Yes, he was quite ready for the taking. The poor drunkard was probably so full of alcohol that Babette would suffer a hangover the morning after feeding on him. As Babette watched the drunken fool, the fiery-haired girl approached her.
"You poor dear...Still no sign of your parents, huh?" The pretty young woman asked.
"No..." Babette feigned her best child-like pout. "I wish Momma and Poppa would come get me. They said they'd be back by now..." She trembled, voice quivering and eyes welling with tears. She looked pitifully at the young woman, who seemed to completely believe and sympathize with her little act.
"I know, dear. Here, I got this for you. I know it's not much, but it's food. You stay as long as you like. No need in you freezing to death out there in the cold." The tavern girl smiled, placing an apple and a small jug of milk on the tabe in front of Babette.
"Oh, thank you, nice lady." Babette smiled pitifully at the young woman. From the corner of her dark eye, Babette spotted the old drunkard leaving the tavern from behind the crimson haired girl. She quickly fixed her gaze back to the woman. "I'll take this with me. I want to see if Momma and Poppa have come back for me."
The woman gave Babette a concerned, pitied look. "Well, just come back if it gets too cold for you, dear. We don't need you freezing to death."
"Thank you ma'am." Babette nodded, wandering out of the tavern not far behind the old, staggering man.
She followed the old man out of Dawnstar, looking about herself before she tossed the jug of milk and apple down in the thick snow. She could hear his raspy, inebriated voice singing a garbled version of "The Age of Aggression" in the darkness of night. He stumbled his way off the beaten path and to a small wooded area, where he disappeared shortly. Babette watched him stagger out from the thicket, fumbling with his trousers. The old sot stopped to relieve himself, apparently.
Babette approached the man, who stood, squinting to get a better look at her. "What on Nirn...are...you doing...out here, little girl?" He slurred, his speech thickly laced with the accent of alcohol.
"My Momma and Poppa left me here. They said they would come back for me, but I can't find them now. They left me this. They told me to sell it if I needed coin to eat with, sir." She stated innocently, pulling a Skooma bottle out from her satchel.
The elderly man's eyes widened at the sight of it. "R-really...How...much...? I haven't had a b-bottle of Skooma in...a...while..." His wrinkled lips curved in a dumb, drunken grin.
"Um, I don't know. Momma and Poppa didn't tell me how much to say. Do you know what this costs, sir?" She asked, luring the man in with her act of ignorance.
The man's wide eyes turned narrow and shifty. "Little girl...S-skooma...isn't worth much at...all...I'm afraid. I can only...give you...a coin...perhaps. Any m-more would be...too much for that old...stuff..." He slurred, his lips hungry with greed.
Oh, he was a rotten one. It was a good thing he'd be dead by the next morning. The nerve of him - - letting an innocent child nearly starve for a little fix. Good thing this child wasn't innocent, and wasn't really a child, for that matter.
"Okay!" Babette smiled happily, holding the bottle out as the greedy old sot jerked it from her tiny hands, carelessly flicking a coin in her direction. "Thank you, good sir!" She grinned mischeviously, grabbing the snow-covered coin and waiting patiently.
"Yeah, yeah." He spat, eagerly pulling the cork and guzzling down the drink. Babette stood in still, silent anticipation, watching traces of the poisionous mixture within trickle down his hungry mouth. The fool must've been too drunk to taste the difference.
Before long he'd drained the bottle dry, tossing it to the ground. "You're still...here?" He gave her a strange look, teetering where he stood.
"Yes, sir." She smiled innocently.
"S-shouldn't you be going...s-somewhere? You know...To get s-something...to eat or w-whatever?" He slurred irritably.
"Funny you should mention that." Babette's voice lowered, her demeaner changing instantly from a naive child to the dark being that she was. She pulled out a masterfully mixed antidote to neutralize the poison she'd ingest along with his blood, drinking from the small vile and dropping it in the deep snow.
The man slowly sank, one leg buckling, then the other. "W-what's ha-happening?" He began to cough and sputter, clutching at his throat as he fell on his back, gasping for air.
Babette calmly walked over to the dying old man. She held the coin over him, her small silhouette menacing in the darkness. She opened her tiny hand, dropping it on his writhing body. "Here, sir. It appears I don't need it, after all. I've found something to eat."
...
Babette wiped the remaining traces of blood from her lips, walking back into Dawnstar. Two Pale guards stood patrolling at the edge of town, chatting amongst each other as Babette slinked by in the darkness, unnoticed.
"I don't give a damn for that deserter either, but they say Haldor has the pass phrase to the other Black Door in Falkreath." A thick Nord voice caught her ear, causing her to freeze from hearing the subject of their gossip. She'd already heard news of a possible traitor from Ava and Cicero, but no one was sure who it could be. Babette quietly crept in the shadows, listening to the two guards and hoping for further information on the matter.
"Haha. It's a pity no one knows how to get into Black Door around here. We'd have those murderous cutthroats exterminated by now. I wonder how those damn Imperials always seem to get a hold of all that information. Those milk-drinking Penitus Oculatus Agents broke into it last time." The female Nord remarked, shaking her head.
"I've heard the Dragonborn's been seen meeting up with some young blonde in a tavern somewhere in Skyrim. Word travels fast around here, so it could be bloody anywhere. Some say she's an assassin herself. I don't know. Maybe it's all a bunch of baseless drivel. Only Talos knows..." The male guard stated.
Babette's dark eyes narrowed. Little did that guard realize those weren't just mindless rumors. There was a traitor in their midst, and Babette knew one dark sibling who fit their description completely...