Fate's Games

(A/N: Sorry for the wait, but I've been focused on another series recently. Anyway, there will be a few up today. This one is actually pretty dark. At first I was going to pair this character with the Dragonborn, but then I thought of an even more interesting match that I could do a lot more with. You'll probably recognize the scene. I just swapped the Dragonborn for an NPC in the role of the victim.

This guy was one of the only three, or four, bandits who were actually named. And of them all he went about his plan in the cleverest way. Elaborating on his wiles and his ability with a bow, and the fact he's one of the only bandits I was impressed with in Skyrim, I gave him the title that's actually this oneshots name. Granted he wasn't the most powerful or dangerous opponent, but power wasn't what I was judging by.)

Bandit King

She was skilled in alchemy. She always had been. And she was empathetic. Her nature was gentle yet dark, her skills centering on healing and potions. In light of this it was only natural that, when as she'd been collecting ingredients she'd stumbled across the man sitting in the road, she would stop to help. What else was she supposed to do? Let him die? What if he was badly injured? Besides, maybe she could test a new healing potion on him. She approached and he asked, "Are they gone?"

"Are you ok?" she questioned.

"Bandits attacked and ransacked my cart. Can you help me?" he replied.

"What can I do?" she asked, worried about him as she knelt, scanning for injuries. In retrospect it should have been a hint. There wasn't even a scratch on him.

"My camp is nearby, in the ruins of Nilheim. Get me there safely and you'll be rewarded," he replied. She nodded and helped him rise. He led her onto the bridge, heading towards a ruined tower that must have been Nilheim. "It's just across the bridge and up that hill," he said, pointing out the ruin.

"It's beautiful here," she remarked, looking around. He said nothing in return. Again, it should have sent off warnings, but she was preoccupied with the variety of ingredients she was seeing all around them.

As they neared the ruin, he said, "We're close now, I can see the camp."

"Why in a ruin?" she wondered. After all, what had she to fear? She was the daughter of Maven Black-Briar, and only an idiot would dare cross her. Or one who didn't know who she was. He simply chuckled. She thought it was a slightly dark laugh, but foolishly she ignored the warning bells ringing in her mind.

"Wait here, I'll be right back with your reward," he said to her. He hurried off and she waited, looking guardedly around at the other people milling about. She couldn't ignore her senses anymore. About halfway up he turned around. Her hand went to a sword cautiously. An icy smirk was upon his face, and he declared to the others almost boastfully, "Looks like we've got ourselves another fool."

She paled on hearing these words, quickly catching on. Weapons were being drawn and she gasped, turning quickly. An ambush! They were bandits! But if they were bandits, that meant… That meant this man she had just helped was their leader! She fought valiantly against them and watched their chief draw his bow, retreating to a better perch. She cried out in pain as a missile struck her. His arrows were swift and sure, his aim absolute. He must have been taught to shoot from the moment he could hold a bow. She couldn't defeat them, not right now, but she would be back. This would not go unpunished. She scowled viciously, struck another bandit, and fled.

ES

"She gravely injured a fair number of us," one of his people declared.

Telrav listened icily, looking over his injured men. "She'll pay, mark my words," he answered.

"My Lord, that woman was Ingun Black-Briar! She will return with help," his man protested.

"Likely, but if we flee they're guaranteed to catch us. We hold our ground. It's the best chance we have," Telrav declared; and his followers knew how true those words were. "I won't say we'll survive this, but we have no choice now, do we."

"You will survive, my king," the bandit men, and women, said together. He said nothing. He could only hope so, but something told him that this time… This time he wouldn't be so lucky.

ES

She was shocked to silence on hearing the Jarl's proclamation. The bandit leader she'd crossed was no normal bandit chief. The leader she'd crossed was more than that. Far, far more. His name was Telrav, and he was the Bandit King! It wasn't a title to take lightly, for it was very serious. The bandits of Skyrim, of all of Tamriel, answered to him. It was he that they obeyed, his lead and his orders they followed, his commands and ideas they studied and incorporated. And she had crossed him.

Her mother was infuriated, the Jarl wanted him dead, and in seconds she was set up with ten hired thugs and told to lead them to Nilheim. She was ecstatic at first. Finally her mother was letting her do something of importance! She had had no plans to fail the woman. Dutifully she led the mercenaries towards Nilheim. She would bring the Bandit King's head back on a pike. She frowned at the mental image. Hmm, perhaps that was a bit much.

"They approach," one of the bandit women declared, and Telrav harrumphed as he observed the small force. Theoretically it would be no trouble for them. They'd taken on worse. Except… except part of him warned that their luck would change very quickly and very suddenly.

ES

Ingun led the thugs into the camp and halted them. There was silence, no sign of anyone. "Perhaps they fled," one suggested. Wrong. All at once he was pierced through with an arrow! He gave a strangled cry and fell dead. Immediately the other guards leapt into action as the bandits sprang from hiding with every intention of slaughtering them all.

She observed icily, her hair blowing in the wind. She could only watch so much, though, before she looked down at the ground. She heard the whooshing of an arrow, however, and barely managed to duck in time. She gasped, turning. Above her was the Bandit King, eyes cold and fixed on her. She scowled. He looked away from her, obviously judging her to be no threat, and began firing at the thugs. To her horror he was taking them down one by one!

She would have none of it. She wouldn't be brushed off so easily. She raced to the cliff and began climbing up. He wasn't aware until her dagger was at his throat that she had moved. Immediately he grabbed her wrist, forcing her hand away from him as he struggled against her. She held her own, though he was much stronger. She met his eyes and saw him continuously looking over at his bandits. The more of them that fell the more desperately he tried to wrestle her away from him, and the more concerned his eyes became. She was mildly surprised. He actually cared about them. He cared…

He seized her wrist, squeezing violently. She dropped the knife in pain and he grabbed it up and stabbed at her, but his one-handed was nothing to his archery, and she easily moved her head out of the way of the blade. All at once she was pinned against the cliff, and he was ready to exterminate. He would have done so too, except suddenly a thug called, "Don't move! You've lost, King of Bandits!"

Telrav paused, not turning away from gazing icily into her eyes. Finally he let the knife go. After all, killing her would do nothing now. Pain shot through his heart for a moment as he realized what it meant. His men had all been killed… He'd lost, and he was at their mercy. He pulled away from her and tucked his bow away, steely glaring at the shocked young woman until the thugs came up and brought him down to the ground.

ES

He struggled against the surviving five thugs as they struck him over and over with fists and the hilts of their swords, with shields and bows and axes, maces and hammers, until he lay crumpled on the ground gasping for breath, no doubt multiple bones broken. Ingun watched on doing nothing, but her eyes were frightened and hesitant. She wasn't sure what to think of the treatment and pain they were inflicting upon the man.

Aggressively they dragged the Bandit King to his knees and pulled him roughly before her. "You are victorious, Ingun," one of the thugs declared. He pulled Telrav's head viciously back, forcing him to look up at the woman. "You have been defeated by one hardly beyond girlhood," he said to the captive.

Telrav scowled hatefully up at her, but she didn't smile cockily back, like her mother would have done. She could only look down at the badly beaten King of the Bandits, eyes uncertain. There was her empathy now, outdoing her pride. "You will pay for the crimes you have committed," she said, for what else could she say? She wanted to apologize to him, but she had no reason to. Then again, she had also wanted to apologize to many of the young men who had found themselves at the bottom of Lake Honrich. It never did any good to apologize, so she chose a simple statement.

A thug then declared, "You have committed crimes against Skyrim and her people, against all of Tamriel and beyond. So you will be executed here upon the grounds of your own stronghold. On Maven Black-Briar's orders, your death will not be a painless one." Ingun worriedly looked up. Not painless? Then how painful would it be? What had her mother ordered? Her eyes widened in horror when a thug pulled out a pike and stationed it upon the ground, sticking up into the air. She gasped, covering her mouth. No… no, this couldn't be right. Surely they weren't serious? Impalement!

"I didn't expect it to be," Telrav replied to the hired thugs, but his eyes were murderously upon her. He glanced over at the pike and for a brief second, just a moment, she saw a shiver. She saw fear. As quick as it had come it was gone, and he was glaring defiantly at the object that would be the source of his gruesome and painful demise. He almost scoffed. "Bring it then," he challenged in a growl.

ES

Ingun watched in horror as they roughly pulled the Bandit King to his feet and forced him towards the stake. He began to struggle viciously, but there was no hope for him. "You will all suffer for this!" he stated. She and she alone knew how true his words were, for when the bandits of Skyrim heard of this slaughter, it would be war. There would be no one safe to wander Tamriel.

"Tell it to the creatures that will come and devour you as you die," a thug stated.

"If done in just the right way, impalement can take days," another hissed menacingly. The Bandit King shuddered again, and once more she saw the fear and despair in his eyes before they gave way to unbridled hatred and fury.

They stripped him down to his loincloth, humiliating him though he didn't give them the satisfaction of seeing a disgraced and shamed expression. Roughly they lifted him up and skewered him there upon the stake, his eyes towards the heavens. His scream of pain filled the land, and she felt terror and fear come to her, and pity and sadness. For a moment she almost raced to him, but she couldn't. Her mother was counting on her, her mother… Her mother. She swallowed and looked away quickly.

ES

They sat by the fire pit. Three days… oh gods, three days and still he lived and suffered. She knew what the hired thugs were waiting for. They were waiting for the moment the Bandit King would finally succumb. She didn't want to wait, though. She wanted to leave and never look back. He didn't deserve this, did he? No man deserved this. But she'd seen the bodies surrounding the tower and knew he was wicked; a dangerous murderer and traitor. This was exactly what he deserved, wasn't it? Wasn't it?

He never sobbed or cried out in pain. After the first few screams of agony and sobs, he'd forced himself to stop. He'd read the satisfaction it gave his captors. But she could hear pained groans once in a while still, and gasps. She could hear him coughing, likely blood coming from his mouth. They would give him no water to wet his lips, nor any form of relief at all, and he would suffer immeasurably until death finally took him. They taunted him with the life giving liquid, pouring it upon his face in a way that he couldn't reach the rivulets to even get a drop. They would spit at him and taunt him mercilessly, but he never graced them with a reply, the only sign of his fury the eyes that never seemed to stop blazing with fire. They wouldn't break him. They would never break him.

But she didn't want this. She didn't. Despite all he'd done, despite his crimes and his treachery, she couldn't wish any of this on him. Why not prison? Why not beheading? Why was torture chosen? It was so cruel, so inhumane. Not even the beasts of the land did such things to one another. She heard a soft moan from him and looked over. The soldiers were preoccupied and she moved. Silently she slipped away, taking a jug of water with her.

ES

He heard her coming and his eyes flickered weakly open. On seeing her, the blaze burning inside those eyes lit up all the more fiercely. "You are victorious, lady," he said in a choking whisper, tone almost taunting, almost reproachful.

She suddenly felt very small, and so in the wrong though she knew she wasn't. "Shh, shh, please. Don't… don't waste your strength," she begged. Holding the water out to him she said, "Drink."

"A pity ration? Unlikely," he responded.

"Please," she begged, tone frightened and apologetic, her voice cracking.

He looked at her curiously. She sounded near tears. "You are the reason I'm here," he hissed.

"I didn't mean… I never wanted this to happen," she answered. "Quickly, drink before the thugs notice." He harrumphed then obeyed, because he knew she wouldn't leave until he'd taken at least a sip, and he was so very thirsty. So very, very thirsty… and tired, tired, tired… Oh gods, let his life end. He coughed and choked painfully, unable to swallow. "No, no, don't try so hard," she directed, tone soothing. Gently she raised his head and gave him more. This time he managed before moaning weakly and going limp again, hardly conscious.

ES

Insects had found the dying man, she now saw. They weren't even waiting for him to pass on, already trying to feed upon him. And there were birds waiting above, some daring to come down and perch upon his body, pecking at his flesh. Small creatures had been feeding upon him, she saw. A surge of anguish shot through her, making her want to burst into tears and fall to her knees, begging his forgiveness. What made it all the worse was that she knew, she knew, that she could have saved his life. She still might be able to. It would be difficult but doable.

Sniffing and willing back tears, she brushed the insects away from him and shooed the birds. He looked exhaustedly yet suspiciously up at her. "What reason do you have to weep?" he sneered disdainfully. "It isn't my lady that they feed upon. Get away from me. Let me die alone."

"I never wanted you to die," she whispered, tears falling from her eyes. "Not like this."

"Too late for regrets now," he replied. How dare the wench pity him? The last thing he wanted was her empathy. She sobbed and quickly left him, returning to the campfire.

ES

She didn't want to wake up. To wake up would mean to see his dead body. He'd probably passed on during the night. But she heard the thugs laughing and insulting him. Quickly she rose, looking surprised. Her eyes widened. He was still alive. Oh gods, did no immortal pity him anymore? She rose quickly and crossed over to the thugs. "Enough from you, all of you! Back to the fire!" she ordered before she could think it through.

They looked startled, but they didn't dare defy the daughter of Maven Black-Briar. Not when icicles practically jumped from her eyes. Wordlessly they retreated from the Bandit King, and she looked down upon him in anguish. He was drenched in his own blood, wet and soaked by the crimson liquid; so much so that she marvelled he hadn't bled out. He was so pale, so weak. He was hardly breathing anymore. Oh pass on, young man. Pass on so your pain will end. No… no, she wouldn't let this happen. She couldn't watch, not anymore. With a sob and a furious shriek she suddenly turned to the thugs and ordered, "All of you, here, now!"

Quickly they obeyed, fearing Maven's daughter's wrath. "My lady?" they questioned.

"Take him down from off of the pike. Take him down!" she screamed.

"Ingun, the order was to…" one thug began.

"I don't care! Take him off of the stake!" she demanded, shocking not only the thugs but the Bandit King himself. Quickly they hastened to obey. In seconds he was laid upon the ground. The thugs stayed back, but Ingun knelt at the bandit's side, gazing down at him. His death would come all the swifter now. No more suffering, no more anguish.

His eyes lethargically opened, falling on her. He scowled, but the scowl turned to a painful cringe. "Thank you," he breathed, and she sobbed, nodding her head. But still part of her screamed to save him while another told her to leave well enough alone, and she was torn…so, so, torn. What choice would she make? Was there a correct one? Miserably she closed her eyes and willed these choices to leave her mind.