LAST WORDS
A/N: I'm introducing a new POV in this story! She won't come in until the end of this chapter, but I will be using character names to signal when the POV changes. Enjoy!
Ulfric bucks underneath me. His blood pours down my throat and mouth. It's real fricken gross, metallic and tangy. Just nasty. But it's worth it. My hands are bound so teeth are my next bet. Since I'm too banged up, I can't really throw my head against his like I want to. The man thrashes. He's yelling but that gag they put on him is doing its job.
He killed him with a shout. A tearful Elisif told me. I would be wise to heed those words and make sure this piece of cloth stays right where it is.
I dig my teeth in further. I couldn't get to his throat so I'm at the next best place: his wrist. I just need to tear out a good chunk of flesh and he'll bleed out before anyone can save him.
"Stop! Stop the procession!" A guard shouts up ahead.
Our horse halts, throwing the carriage forward. I hear Ulfric moan as I'm torn from his arm. Flesh and blood come flying away from him when I do. I slide forward, the wood feels coarse and rough underneath me but thankfully, that guy who woke me up breaks my fall.
"What in the gods name is going on here!" A female Imperial leaps on the carriage. Two guys follow her. I know I won't get another good chance, I just smile widely, letting the flesh fall from my teeth before I reply.
"Just having a little spat."
I guess I fucked up. Bad. Turns out we were on a carriage taking us to our execution. But since I couldn't keep my rage at bay, we had to stop just outside of Helgen and attend to the poor man's wounds. The ice keeps it chilly here. And the guards make good use of it. One bandages Ulfric's wrist far away from me.
I lean my head against a nearby tree, feeling the coolness melt into my skin. This is the balm I was looking for. If they didn't keep us so far apart, I'd have a much better chance at killing him now on two feet. But why bother? According to the dude next to me, we're all set for the chopping block soon.
"Why me?"
The Imperial man tasked with guarding me stares forward blank faced. He doesn't even look at me, doesn't even flinch. "What did they accuse me of?" I ask again, a little louder.
"You are to remain silent."
"Or, my words will be used against me, right? That's the deal?"
He spits on the ground. "Time to get back on." His hand circles around my bicep and he drags me.
But the closer we get, that wooden cart with the object of my hatred sitting right there, I dig my feet in. I don't have Astrid, or Festus or even Babette to bail me out now. Veezara was the best one to get into tight situations and save us from our doom. There's no way they'll know I'm out here, this far from home.
Home. Falkreath. Those towering trees and mossy grounds covered in fresh dew still call to me. I shouldn't have left. I should have taken other contracts and built up my septims over time. I would have gotten out eventually.
But as they say, no guts no glory. The guard throws me on the cart. My adrenaline rush from earlier is clearly gone. Everything aches. Everything throbs. That invincible feeling that was vibrating through my veins is nothing more than a memory. To fight back would be to get a worse beating. But maybe that would be a miracle in my situation.
That flame in my heart burns brighter when I see Ulfric's weary gaze. The bastard can't even say a word to me, but I can tell him all I want.
"I win." I gasp out then take a deep, shuttering breath. Spitting the words out like there were filthy things in my mouth. Even with the darkness tinging the edges of my vision. "I win. I got you killed so that coin goes straight to the Dark Brotherhood."
His eyes flick away from me. As if I were nothing. When my eyes are too heavy to keep open, I have one thought left.
He'll regret that.
"Next, the Nord in the rags!" A woman yells, and it feels like it's in my ear.
I blink awake. I know what's on the other side of this carriage but I'm not really scared. I don't want to die but that was always a risk in my line of business. At least now I can watch Ulfric's head roll before mine. "Present." I say roughly. My throat is too scratchy, too raw.
I'm tugged from the carriage. The next moments are a blur, I can't really keep my head up to hear all of it. Some guy with nice hair takes my name and then I'm being dragged across the way. In the center of the great courtyard is a single stone. In front of it a basket holds all the bloody heads that came before me.
I look over my shoulder, through my good eye I see Ulfric glaring at me. "Get him first. Hey! Get him first, throw him on the block."
They keep shoving me, but my desperation is so potent. The last thing I want in this life is to see this bastard bleed to death. "Make him go first!" I roar above the shaking.
The noise is so great, it almost takes me off my feet. I hear mumbling in the back, but my ears are now ringing. The guy holding me shoves me to my knees and my head turns. I don't want to see the others down below. Don't want to dread my last moments.
I keep my eyes on Ulfric Stormcloak. He watches me strangely, like the bastard pities me.
"I'll kill you." I swear over the clearing. "This life or the next, I'll come back and kill you. Just you wait. You took everything from me!" I feel like a crazy person. Maybe I am a crazy person. But the object of my obsession is right there. "Think a bite to the wrist is bad? Wait until I'm done with you." I laugh a little hysterically. "Just wait, they won't even recognize you."
If I listened, I'd hear the distinct pull of the axe above my head. If I turned, just a little, I'd get the pleasure of seeing the executioner knocked on his ass. And if I were paying attention, I'd be able to dodge the great black dragon who lands on the keep right next to us.
It's chaos, screams, rattling stone raining down. I shout when I see Ulfric run. The others do as well to go take cover in another keep. No one comes back for me. "Stop!" I yell. I can't move. Whatever those guards did to me really messed me up. My arms feel like noodles, I can't get my legs to work right.
I'm not one to cry easily. Especially out of fear. Just this once, I almost do. I almost piss myself when a clawed paw comes down, one that's the size of my head, to grab me by the shoulder. It tugs, rolling me around so I can look up in the face of a dragon.
"Mortal, joor, you do not flee when I fly." His deep voice is just enough to get through my panicked thoughts. "What makes you so kril, brave?"
I don't have anything to lose. I'm going to be burnt to a crisp soon. So, might as well tell the truth. "The guy with the furry coat." I cough. "I want him dead. I want him on this block."
His snake-like eyes flick up to glare at the keep on the other side of the clearing. He huffs through his nose. "He has run. He has found his people."
"I want him dead! Go kill him. Please." I cough again and the world goes a little more sideways. I suddenly feel like my brain was spooled out and the hollow space was filled with a ton of cotton. I can barely keep my eyes open.
"He has fled mortal, a coward, a nikriin." He continues to talk but my eyelids fall again. They grow so heavy. I can't hear anything over the roaring around us. My last thoughts before I die aren't of Ulfric, no matter how much I need him in the ground. It's of Falkreath. Of the scent of pine, the trees Festus was so keen on taking care of. The long nights sparring with Veezara and Nazir when he felt like it. And my nice warm bed. The only bed I've been able to call my own in this pathetic life. I should have stayed. That was the only home I ever had, and I took it all for granted.
Moments are a blink in time, or so I've been told. They come in hazy pieces before clicking together in full clarity. I distantly feel claws around my body, piercing my flesh even worse than any sword. Wind kisses my face. When I blink open my eyes, I see the mountains below me. They're usually towering and imposing from the ground. They seem so insignificant this high up. I let the calming picture of jagged rocks and streaks of snow lull me back to sleep.
In my line of work, I'm used to waking up in strange places. That could be a hay bale on the local farmer's land. It could be the back alley of a bar. Sometimes, it's in other people's beds. Either those I've killed or some I bedded for the night. Point is, I'm not usually fazed by what I find come morning.
This time is different though. I was kind of expecting to wake up in some fiery plane of Oblivion or worse: some depraved part of Coldharbour. Instead, when I open my eyes, I find I'm in a well-lit part of a dark cave.
I flinch and sit up quickly, wincing as my back cramps from the sudden movement. A racket of coughs riddle me. Each one like a hammer pounding against my ribs. Gods, I almost wish I woke up somewhere else. Then I wouldn't feel like death.
"The mortal wakes with a sickness ravaging him." The deep voice of the dragon sounds. I look up. He's right above me, his dark face peering down and his body poised and ready to attack.
"Where am I?" I ask quickly. A sharp slice of fear pierces my stomach.
"A far away mountain range, one I will not say." The dragon hisses. "I have a question for you, kril gein. You stood before me, the great Alduin, and asked me to kill a man for you. Most cower and beg for their ever-shortening lives."
I blink slowly. My eyelids feel like they were coated in paste that was crusting at the edges. The effect means the dragon is slightly blurred to me. I can't be sure if I heard him right. "And?"
His lips pull back, showing me his sharp teeth. I can definitely see those, and I don't wish for them to be impaling me anytime soon. But if I'm here then, it probably means I'm dragon meat. "You intrigue me." The dragon finally says. His tail waves around wildly behind him and his wings come to encircle me. I can't help it, it's instinct. I pull my knees up to my chest and duck my head down. Try to make myself as compact, and hard to dig into as possible.
"I wish not for your death." His hot breath blows into my face. I have to fight the urge to gag. Those words are…well, they're miraculous. But it just means I'm back to square one. I nod slowly.
"That's good. I feel the same way about you." I add quickly. If he somehow knows my reputation in the south, he'd know what I do for a living. It's not like I have many weapons in these rags. Then again, maybe he knows I'm an assassin based on the fact I was in Helgen.
His lips pull back again, if I were seeing clearly, I'd say it was almost like a macabre smile. "We are of the same hadrim, mind, then. I will let you live. I will let you stay here in my resting place and heal."
I take in another shuddering breath. The pain in my chest and shoulders was finally coming back. The stinging on the cuts on my head. Can't even see out of my swollen left eye. "What's the catch?"
"Clever." He breathes out. That warm breath almost makes me gag. I have to bite my tongue so hard I taste blood. "I will let you live if you help me, mortal. Help me gain knowledge, help me gain an advantage, and help me take what is mine."
I shudder. The way his tone dips, it doesn't spell anything good. "In return?"
"I'll help you slay the man you so hate. I know where he lives. He has taken to holing up in a large fortress. I can take you there."
It blinds me. The anger comes so fast, I'm seeing red. I snap my head up and almost wince. That's when the headache starts. "When?"
"When you heal, and you do what I ask." His eyes flare.
My head is so fuzzy. It's hard to think straight. And maybe that is why all rational thought leaves me. That fucker on the cart has it coming for him. If my Unholy Matron were able to speak, I know she would have marked him for death from that moment. She would have whispered to me so clearly. But maybe I don't need a voice like that. I know he needs to die.
"I'll take it." I wheeze out. Feeling the sharp veering pull on me. I'll be out soon and for who knows how long.
The great dragon, Alduin, grins and rolls something on the rock floor with his wing. A large red healing potion comes rolling my way, the glass tinkling against the stone floor. I snatch it up, as if he would take it back and look up at him over the lip of it.
"A transaction. A promise. I will keep you safe here if you do what I say. Then, I will deliver you to Ulfric Stormcloak." He says the words so harshly, it's hard to understand him with his strange accent.
I drink it down quickly. The healing potion is smooth and tasteless. Just a velvety texture to it that goes down easily. When there's none left, I lay back and let sleep take me again. At least this time I'll wake up knowing where I am.
Scratch that. When I open my eyes, I'm in a comfy bed with a rock wall soaring over me. There's nice blankets and sheets. Even more luxurious than anything I had back in the Sanctuary. I sit up, feeling the way my muscles move, fresh and new. It's like I never got a hit on me.
I run my hands over my face, my back. No scratches, no deep cuts. No lingering pain. I don't question this blessing. The moment I wake up is the moment I should find any weapon possible. I search the large room. It's a strange one. Filled with treasure troves and angular furniture. This was probably some old Dwemer ruin, or at least, pieces of one.
When I leave the room, I have some hair pins, a hairbrush that I was able to whittle down into a sharp point, and a part of the bed frame. It was the only thing I could rip off from it. The chests didn't hold anything. I thought about breaking the mirror but don't want to mess up too much. Just in case my captor comes to see what I'm armed with.
Best to keep the element of surprise. I find I'm freshly clothed too. The rags I was dressed in for my execution are gone. Instead, I woke up in tight, lightweight armor. That should have freaked me out. He saw me naked. As a cold-blooded killer, I got over modesty long ago, but this guy isn't a human. He's…fuck, he's a dragon.
I sink low, into a crouch and try to keep the shadows. I thought last night was a dream and I desperately wished for that. I wished I woke up in another carriage. Then again, I wouldn't have the advantages that I do. The hallway here is long and the only thing on it is a red rug that runs the whole way down. Torch holders line the way and each and every one are lit.
The cave wall wraps around, making it hard to keep hidden. A wet, slapping sound followed by something tearing echoes down the hallway. I take a beath in, hold, and turn my head. He won't be able to hear me if I'm as quiet as possible and walk on silent feet. Just like Astrid taught me to do. In the main room, the one that I was in that opens up to the gray sky above is Alduin. He stands in the center of the room, his scaley tail wags wildly in the air. He tears again and I almost retch.
He's eating a horse. It lays on its side, gutted open, the eyes long since gone milky and white. The vile stench makes me dry heave and that's enough.
"Kril. I smell you. There is no hiding from me."
I feel the sharpened point from my bedpost at my side. I would just have to impale him through the heart from the sound of it. Quick and easy if I can get the damn thing through those scales. And he didn't incinerate me first.
There was a lot riding against me. If I were smarter, I'd try to find a way down from this cave.
"To kill a dragon would be suicide." His large face turns to me. His even larger eyes narrow on my hands. "To make the path down from the mountain would be an early grave. Did you wish to die, mortal?"
I shake my head.
"Good. You have some sense of self preservation." He turns back to the horse at his feet and rips into it again. "You are in my stead now, assassin. Forest Shadow."
Something damn near close to fear grasps at me. If Alduin is clever enough to figure out my alias, then he could root out the Sanctuary and hurt my family.
"Your face, luft, betrays you, kril krivaan. I wish not to destroy you." His yellowish eyes, so milky and yet vivid, like the fucking sun behind a cloud of ash pierce me. "I wish to use your talents."
I swallow hard. "I figured as much. I didn't wake up with a scratch on me." I mull over his words. This guy likes to be praised, from the sound of it. As long as I'm in line and he prods me along he won't tear my head clean off my shoulders. "How can I meet your ends and make sure Ulfric Stormcloak is dead?"
If a dragon could grin, this would be it. "Kril krivaan. Kril Krivaan, very clever in your ahmik. I have a task for you. Go get your weapons, your zun, from Vivnasa, the Vokun."
I don't get the chance to turn around, I just hear the pitter patter of tiny feet and I spin, my sharpened hairbrush and bedpost at my sides. In the doorway stands a five foot-eight Dunmer woman with long black hair, sharp curves under a set of lightweight armor, and round eyes that narrow into seductive slits as she eyes me.
The hair on the back of my neck raises. Now I know who clothed me while I was out and based on how her lips slightly curl up, she knows I know it too. "Pleasure to meet you, Kril."
"Name's Rune." I correct.
"Rune." She elongates the name with her accent. It sounds almost like she just switched from Dunmeris over to the common tongue about a month ago. I can't say that's it grating on the ears though.
"So, what, you have servants here?" I eye Alduin.
"Followers, ahmik, they have many chores and are not to be seen."
"Alduin saved me long ago, like you." Vivnasa nods to me. "There are others here, but they don't come out often. I'm sure you'd understand being a member of the Dark Brotherhood, those who are taken in aren't of the sound mind."
I definitely knew that in my time in Falkreath. Everyone in the Sanctuary had a story, a reason for scraping themselves off the pavement of civilized society and falling back into the grimy shadows of our line of work. If we hadn't been so tight knit, I know without a doubt, most of us would be dead from either murder, time in jail, or even worse.
"What's the plan? You taking me to Helgen? Back at the Sanctuary I had orders memorized from the moment I was given them."
Both the dragon and the girl laugh, one sound a kaleidoscope of tinkling bells, the other, a deep guttural noise that nearly makes me shiver. "We do not go to Helgen. Ulfric Stormcloak is not in Helgen. First, we got to High Hrothgar."
From what little I know of that place, it's a monastery high up in the tallest mountain I know of. The Throat of the World. Inside it's walls are monks who spend their time practicing their secretive ways. I highly doubt the bastard has taken a vow of silence with that voice of his so I'm not there for my kill.
"Don't look so surprised." Vivnasa sneers.
Alduin growls behind me. I swallow the sick feeling in my throat. "Why are we going there?"
"To kill the one who will take from me. To kill my enemy, Kril Krivaan. As your enemy is Ulfric Stormcloak, mine is a soul of a dragon, Dragonborn, Dovahkiin."
His lips pull back, showing me all those sharp teeth and his nails dig into the dead horse at his feet, further snapping bones and making it bleed out. I know that rage like the back of my hand. If I want Ulfric dead, and this guy is willing to help me, then I'm more than willing to return the favor.
"Done. When do we leave?"
The dragon doesn't even blink. "I knew there was a reason I saved you from the flames. Now. Get your weapons and hold on tight."
Once I'm strapped up and do as he says, I'm holding tightly to the row of scales along his spine. His lungs move in a frantic pace beneath my legs. I can feel the pulse of his massive heart against my inner thighs. I let out a breath of frosted air as I stare down at the impossibly small mountain range below, preparing myself-
"Ta-ta, have fun on your first mission." Vivnasa sings. I glance back to see her staring at me with those lecherous eyes and a wicked smile and then my stomach plummets, the large black wings snap out, tearing us up through the sky and I scream.
I'm not a screamer. I stay silent. I'm not some sissy girl who can't handle a rough ride. But I'm not scared. By Oblivion, this isn't fear singing through my chest. If I'm right, this is pure elation. This is that sweet light feeling I get after a job well done and a few thousand septims lining my pockets. The air pulls us higher and I look over Alduin's shoulder to the province of Skyrim below. So far away, but it's almost like I can touch every mountain, land in any village. This is what true freedom feels like.
Elisif, the Fair
Grief is an ache that never goes away. A twisted muscle that never heals quite right, leaving the bearer to hobble with what was left of a tragic accident. Lending itself to a constant reminder of the pain of that fateful day. Sometimes, it's easier. Sometimes it almost feels fully healed until something picks at the edges of the scars.
My chest clenches as I close my eyes and tears begin to well. I will not let them fall on this day. I cannot, not for Torygg. Not for his memory. If he knew what burden I bear now, he would wish for me to stand tall and courageous in the face of adversity.
It was all to my surprise. I feel almost as if I were a bystander to my own life. I've stared at myself in the mirror for countless days, wondering where this woman came from. How she was sitting beneath my pale, gaunt face, and lifeless eyes all this time. Why she never came out on the day Torygg was killed. If she did, then maybe he would still be warming my bed and making my heart light up with joy when he walked into a room. He would still be leading our people. Keeping them safe.
But she never made her way out and chose a few days ago to reveal herself. The stranger who has thick skin, and nerves of steel when fighting one of the dragons near Whiterun. And a voice of the gods.
I still don't know what came over me that day. It's as if the gods laid down their hands and blessed me. But it feels more like a curse by the tick of a clock. Or, maybe Talos himself gave it to me as a cruel joke. Something to rub in my face for never speaking his name while my husband privately worshiped him for years.
I should have joined him in that small room behind our bedroom bookshelf. The one with walls covered in mildew and mushrooms hugging the corners. The room that held a smaller version of a statue of Talos, carved in all his glory. I should have joined my husband there for those cold hours in the early mornings for prayer.
Instead, I have this. A voice much like the one of my enemy. My husband's murderer. And instead of fearing me, locking me away and sending me off for execution like the Imperials supposedly did for Ulfric, I am revered. I am paraded up to High Hrothgar and told to speak with the Greybeards to learn the way of my curse.
I pull my fur coat a little tighter and Sybille wraps her hand around my upper arm. "Are you feeling lightheaded? The altitude is precarious for humans."
"No Sybille." I glance up at the stone monastery, my breaths coming out more rapidly. "I feel absolutely fine."
Bolgeir, my housecarl, grunts behind me. "If you get too cold tell me and I'll have one of my men grab you a blanket."
Behind the scraping of boots on the harsh stone alert me. I told Bolgeir it would look strange if I brought nearly a whole army with me, but he wasn't having it. Even though I now had more power than anyone could wish to wield, I was still vulnerable as a Jarl. The guards go where I go, even though my untrained shout could slice a man in half if I so wished.
My heart constricts again in my chest. I could now throw a man far into the air and he hear his back and neck crack as he lands on the stone covered ground.
Torygg's hollow brown eyes stare up at me again. Bleeding out with unshed tears for who he was leaving behind. His body growing cold in my shaking hands. I stumble, almost tripping into the snow when Sybille holds tight.
"Jarl Elisif?"
"I'm fine." I tell her even as the storm in my head rages on. The memories of his body growing stiff. The resulting funeral and pyre that was lit in his honor. So young. He was so young and had his whole life ahead of him. Given another year I could very well have been with his child.
My heart tears in two at the thought. Of the family that was ripped away from me. The comfort and safety of my home changed to the makings of a foreign land I now must find a path through. I fall to my knees, the cold snow biting into the thick cloth of my green and purple dress.
A sob breaks through. I let the tears and the growing grief take me. Voices speak softly behind me. I barely register Sybille trying so politely to talk to me. To make me rise like the Jarl that I am. Nothing snaps me from my grief but the harsh creaking of the door.
"May I be of assistance?"
His gravelly voice, weakened from disuse is a sign of my future held in his hands. I raise my head, letting the rest of the tears fall silently as I stare at the begging of my stead.
The Greybeard gives me a soft smile. The only one of them to speak and I feel it is for my benefit. As if he can feel my tortured heart about to thump to a close in my constricting chest. "Jarl Elisif, the Dragonborn, it is an honor to meet you."
