This story is set in the same universe as Hearts and Dragons.
12th of Second Seed 4E 201
Valel knows she's a horrible person.
She enjoys hurting people. Inflicting pain onto others. Projecting what she's gone through onto them for her own sadistic enjoyment. She takes pleasure in killing. It's all she's done in her young adult life. She's done numerous contracts for people all over Summerset Isles. Killing left and right since the age she could hold a blade and slash it across necks. It became apparent to her early in life, that she was meant to kill. Meant to hurt others. Meant to inflict pain. She's torn apart families, loved ones, killed sisters, brothers, fathers and mothers. There was no doubt that Valel was evil.
Valel was born in 174 in Alinor, Summerset Isles. She was raised an only child, by a single parent as her mother would leave when Valel was only five for some snobby rich Thalmor bootlicker. Her father had moved her to his hometown of Firsthold and turned to drinking, and began to use Valel as a punching bag in his drunken rages. When she was thirteen, she took revenge on her father by slitting his throat with a knife. She watched the cold, shocking look her father gave her as he bled out on the floor reaching out to her.
That's when she started killing. She met a man, who heard of her twisted action of murder, he began to regularly contract kills for her, and paid a hefty amount for them. Famous people, bards, actors, and politicians. They'd give her the details, and she'd get the job done. By the time she was fifteen, her kill count had been around five hundred and she'd only just begun.
Valel found her talent in the art of killing. She'd regularly find new ways to eliminate her target. Whenever it was poising as someone else, and slipping poison in their drink or stabbing them and hiding their body. Pushing them off a balcony, or shooting an arrow right through someone's neck and watching them bleed and squirm in the distance. She didn't give into empathy at an young age, so she removed that emotion from her psyche early on. It was easy taking someone's life. It didn't phase her at all. When killing, she'd use two of her weapons she's always used. An gold elven sword which has been plunged into the back of multiple targets. It was efficient in combat, and it's very much useful when wiping out a bandit camp.
Her second best, was an black elven dagger. That's for posing as high figures to kill those of high status. Quickly slicing their neck in a neatly designed fashion, or flat out shoving the knife into the head of said person. Either way, she took satisfaction in using it.
She's been doing it for quite awhile now, she's only twenty-seven, and yet her kill count could be accomplished in a lifespan. The Altmer lost count of her count when she react the thousand mark, just only turning eighteen the week before the milestone. She could only imagine what it would be like if she lived for hundreds of years like some of her race does.
She's very tall for a woman, but average to an high elf. Standing at six-foot-five, she'd always get derogatory comments about her height, which would either end up with her slicing the person's throat open, or her simply sparing them. The latter was very rare.
Her jet black hair covered most of her face, strands falling around her face. She'd keep it that way, so no one would recognize her when she lashes out and kills a random stranger or honors a contract. She was considered very attractive for an Altmer, and yet was not interested in relationships. She considered herself a loner. She makes sure it's discreet, and often enjoyable how she strategies on how many ways to kill a person. She's average on weight, yet was blessed and cursed with her body and height which men often commented on making her blood boil. One time, a man had frisked her and she took no hesitation stabbing a dagger in his mouth watching him scream in pain. She took much joy in killing the pervert.
It wasn't long until other people caught onto her assassinations, and had developed plans to hang her. That's when she decided to cut off everyone she's ever known, and travel to the mainlands of Tamriel. She took a passage from her father's hometown of Firsthold, and landed in Anvil, Cyrodiil. From there on out, she met people who contracted her to kill. It started with her, cloaked in black, questioning random strangers and the people they want dead for a compensation. Nine times out of ten, she'd get accepted for her offer.
It's how she made a living, collect coin, kill people around Tamriel and make a living from it. She enjoyed it, she enjoyed the bloodthirsty energy that would boil in her blood, itching to touch her blade. Yeah, no doubt she's criminally insane.
She hides it well though, and she makes it clear to men and mer, to stay clear from her. That she is not to be bothered. She traveled all up Cyrodiil before finally landing in Skyrim. Land of the Nords. She'd only been here a few months compared to the few years she resided in Cyrodiil. She'd only been into a few towns in Skyrim, now residing in a inn in Whiterun. She's already been to Solitude, Markarth, Morthal and Riverwood. Not finding any contracts or jobs.
Whiterun was beautiful settlement, and the people were nice enough which made her somewhat agitated. She only wanted to kill, and the nice people here made it very hard to do so. After awhile, she decided it was time to move on from Whiterun.
Leaving the settlement, she made her way up the north road of the hold coming up alongside a farm. The smell of manure and feces had made her scowl in agitation, and covering her nose walking along the road. But then, she saw a carriage that looked broken down near the base of the farm.
"Agh!" The man screeched, his voice was very high pitched and more childlike. "Bother and befuddled! Stuck here! My mother, my poor mother. Unmoving. At rest, but too still!"
Alongside of it, was a man clothed in jester clothing. He had seemed very frustrated, kicking the ground and throwing a hissy fit making her cringe in disgust. He was incredibly short to her, barely coming up to her chin. It didn't help when she was finally in talking range of the man who was unaware of her presence, that he was indeed very short for a man. He looked around five-foot-five, and somewhat stocky build.
Valel towered over the jester, making her way up to him with her hand very close to her blade in case he wanted to pull any tricks. She cleared her throat, obnoxiously.
"Hello there." She simply said, startling the man. He jumped slightly forward, and looked up towards the much taller elf in surprise, before his expression turned into a playful smile.
"Why hello there, tall stranger..." the jester had dragged out the word stranger, with a cheerful creepy expression.
Valel cringed even harder, her intrusive thoughts had pounded in her head to cut down the man's annoying voice, with his annoying clothing and annoying mannerisms. She instead, let her hand go further from her blade to indulge the man.
"Is there a problem?" She spoke in her elven accent, her cadence of voice was smooth and feminine but held a thunderstorm in the bass of her voice.
He frowned, pouting his lips as if he were a child. "Poor Cicero is stuck. Can't you see? I was transporting my dear, sweet mother. Well, not her. Her corpse! She's quite dead." Bouncing on his heels, he moved his hands in a comedic fashion which did nothing for the still cringing Altimer in front of him. He had looked up towards the sky with wide eyes. "I'm taking mother to a new home. A new crypt. But..."
He suddenly stopped in his sentence as if he lost focus, which had made Valel impatient towards the jester. "But...?"
As if he were thinking of something, he quickly snapped out of the trance before Cicero's face creased with frustration. "Argh! Wagon wheel! Damndest wagon wheel! It broke! Don't you see?"
Valel's intrusive thoughts told her that she should turn around wordlessly and walk away. But for some reason, she felt like helping this man today. Not that she liked it, but because she just felt like it.
"Is there anyway I can help?" She asked bluntly, her voice making him jump.
He stammered, before he jumped with joy clapping his hands and hopping from foot to foot. This man is insufferable.
"Yes! The kind, tall stranger can certainly help!" He planted both feet on the ground, stopping himself from bouncing up and down. "Go to the farm, the Loreius Farm. Just over there, off the road. Talk to Loreius. He has tools! He can help me! But he refuses!" Cicero looked towards the farm, in the distance the silos stood high. "Convince Loreius to fix my wheel! Do that, and poor Cicero will reward you. With coin! Gleamy, shiny coin-"
Valel huffed outwardly, completely losing patience with the jester. "Yeah, I got it. You don't need to explain money to me."
She looked out towards the silo again, before she sighed and nodded at him. He jumped in glee and excitement as the woman walked up the hill towards the farm. She could see a middle aged woman working the garden, breaking up soil with a hoe. Valel took her time walking up towards a farm, on the porch of the houses at a man with a mug in his hand.
She stepped onto the porch, making her presence known. It had been obvious the man was quite agitated by her presence, letting a sigh out.
"Oh, for the love of Mara. What now?" The man, Loreius seethed out in annoyance. Valel didn't take kindly to his tone, but pushed her thoughts of stabbing the man down into her mind.
"That...little man, needs your help with his wagon." She stated bluntly, she speaks to people directly and gets down to the point. Whenever they like her tone or not.
"That Cicero fellow?" Loreius crossed his arms with a scoff. "Tell me something I don't know. Crazy's fool asked me about five times. Seems like he's not satisfied with my answer. Why can't he just leave us alone?"
"So what's the problem? I'm sure he'll pay you." Loreius looked taken aback with her response, which made her patience start to wear thin.
"Pay me!? You think this is about money?" The farm owner scoffed again, setting his mug on the banister. "Have you seen the man? He's completely out of his head. A jester, here in Skyrim? Ain't been a merryman in this parts for a hundred years. And he's transporting some giant box. Says it's a coffin, and that he's going to bury his mother. Mother my eye. The man could have anything in there. War contraband. Weapons. Skooma. No way I'm getting involved with that."
The man clearly wasn't letting up, and Valel was getting that itchy feeling of giving up and walking away. But she had only agreed to do this for coin, and that was something she didn't have a lot of.
She sighed impatiently again, before glaring and looking the man in the eyes. "He's a stranger who needs assistance. Please, do the right thing."
He didn't like that response either, his face now turning into an challenging expression and that was the last thing one would want to do to Imande.
"What? And just who in Mara's name are you, anyway? You come here, telling me my business. For what? To..to help a fool!" He spat out viciously, which made her blood began to boil with anger. Who was this man to size her up? She'd kill him now where he stands, in front of his wife even. She had no quarrels or conscious feelings to worry about making a mess in front of his loved ones.
"You should really help him..." She said coldy, making her intentions towards him now more aggressive instead of faking nice. The farmer had softened his expression to a intimidated look, before he uncrossed his arms and sighed.
"I..." He began, before ultimately dropping the facade. "Your right. You right. Feller might be nutters, might not. But fact is, he needs help. I turn him away, what kind of man am I?"
She nodded, now letting her impatience slowly fade from her mind. She had turned to walk away, but the man's voice stopped her.
"Look, thanks. And I'm sorry for my unneighborly reaction. If you talk to Cicero, you be sure to tell him I'll be down to help soon." He smiled with the last words, before Valel grunted and walked away wordlessly from the farm. The walk down to the broken carriage had only taken a hot minute, and she could hear the small jesters rambling from almost mid hill.
"Poor mother," she heard him mutter loud enough, when she finally was a few feet behind him. "Her new home seems so very far..."
Her footsteps alerted him of her presence, making him twirl around on one foot. He let a toothy grin out at her, waiting in suspense to tell him if she had succeeded or not.
"I talked to Loreius. He's agreed to help you with your wagon." Valel said sharply, making the smaller man jump in joy and excitement.
"You..you did? He has?" She nodded her head, making him even more ecstatic and thrilled. "Oh tall stranger! You've made Cicero very happy! So jubilant and ecstatic! But even more! My mother thanks you!"
He quickly shoved his hand into his pocket, rattling around gold. Before he pulled a handful out and stretched his hand forward to her. "Here! Here! For you troubles! Shiny clinky gold! A few coins for a kind deed! And thank you! Thank you again..."
He dropped the coins in Valel's hand, which she didn't bother to thank the jester. Instead, simply brushing past him walking into the wilderness.
"Cicero hopes to see you again, tall stranger..."
She cringed again, hearing the pet name "tall stranger" and the combination of his voice dropping eerie tone. She heard him giggling manically, before full blown laughter as she walked away.
Valel made sure not to look back at the clown.
Three days, and no kills later; she had somehow managed to find her way all the way out to Windhelm. Taking a carriage which was filled with more citizens traveling, she felt cold at bit at her skin, and she at least used some of her coin to purchase warm clothes to shield her from the bite of frost in the winter atmosphere.
Apparently it was the oldest city in Skyrim, and you could sure tell. Stone had been chipped alongside the walkways, the buildings look ancient and not taken care of and they were heaps of confrontation in the town. She had already been assumed as a Thalmor agent which she absolutely abhorred. Disgusting.
She settled in Candlehearth Hall, buying food and a drink. She could see the death states of older men, which she gladly returned. Must've been because a high elf was in Windhelm, and she's already heard of those Argonians not being allowed in. She didn't mind the looks people gave her, as she delve into her food. She hasn't eaten properly in days.
It was quite in the inn, a few stragglers and some drunks who had been passed out on their tables. The cooked salmon they served here wasn't bad, in fact she quite thoroughly enjoyed it. The cup of mead next to her, was gone in an instant as she gulped it down with no hesitation. She set the tankard down, before finishing the scraps of her dinner when she heard a conversation to her left.
"You gotta stay away from the Arentino's residence on the eastern side of town," the man on the left with shaggy hair and pale skin warned to the younger man to his right. "That place is cursed."
"I heard heard the boy, Aventus; was trying to summon the Dark Brotherhood." The other man said, drinking a huge swing of his mead. "For Talos sake, what could push him to do such a thing?"
Dark Brotherhood? She knows about that guild of assassins. She's heard about the legendary stories of the guild killing high ranking people of Tamriel. She used to go around Cyrodiil looking for the guild, but she had never found them. Maybe these gentlemen just gave her a idea. She dropped a single septim on the table as a tip, before she hurried out of the inn not caring about the wasted room she had already paid for.
Stepping outside, the chilly air of Windhelm had smacked against her face. The night sky had painted the skies of Skyrim black, letting Masser take over the nigh-shift. She began to make her way to the east side of Windhelm, passing by beggars asking her to spare a septim. She was then abruptly stopped by a little girl. She had dirty clothes in, her fingers were smeared with dirt and some dirt patches on her face. She held a basket of flowers with a smile towards the high elf. Who didn't return it, but instead a hint of awkwardness press across her face. She wasn't good with children. They were on the no kill list.
"Would you like to buy some flowers?" She asked gently, holding the basket up. Valel had froze up, looking around for an outing that can help her avoid buying a flower from the child, but to no avail she ended up giving in.
Valel sighed, swiping a flower from the basket before putting a few septims into the child's hand, who smiled with glee.
"Thank you ma'am!" Valel waved her off, and put the flower in her pocket before continuing her search for the Arentino residence.
The streets of Windhelm were a hassle to navigate if you were new to the city like her, but she eventually found her way to a residence with the sign Arentino. Two people had been standing informer of the house, a dark elf and a Nord child. The two had seemingly been engaged in a conversation that Imande could make out.
The child asked."Then it's true, what everyone is saying? That Aventus Aretino is doing the Black Sacrament? Trying to summon the Dark Brotherhood?"
The dark elf sighed, as if she was repeating herself. "Oh, Grimvar... always with the nonsense. No, no, of course not. Those are just tales..."
The boy 'Grimvar' didn't seem satisfied with her answer. "Fine. Then I'll invite him out to play. He lives right there. I'm going to knock on his door..."
"No, child! Wait! That boy, that house - they're cursed." The older woman said, with a hint of worry in her voice but it didn't phase the curious child.
"Ha! Then I'm right. I knew it. He's trying to have somebody killed!" Grimvar exclaimed, triggering the dark elf to hush him harshly.
"All right. I won't deny it, child. What you heard is true. But Aventus Aretino walks a dark path. His actions can lead only to ruin. Now, enough. We will speak no more of this. I am the only friend you need." She finished with a head jerk, and the boy obliged.
The two of them had walked away from the residence unknowingly passing by the killer who hid in the darkness. She looked around, seeing no one in sight. It was a chilly dark night in Windhelm, so it'd make sense for people to be inside their homes during this time of the year. Then again, she's pretty sure it's like this all year round. Valel tugged on the door, mentally cursing herself for not thinking it was locked. Digging in her pocket, she pulled a single lock pick out and shoved it in the lock of the door. It had took a few moments but she finally heard the click of the door, before the door creaked open revealing steps that went upwards.
She eased in slowly, silently closing the door behind her with soft click. She could heard a child chanting some kind of ritual over and over again which somewhat sent chills down her long spine.
"Sweet Mother, sweet Mother, send your child unto me, for the sins of the unworthy must be baptized in blood and fear."
She slowly crawled up the steps, revealing a two room house. Which was very small. She silently wandered how one could live in such a small house. Valel peeked her head into the room of the chanting boy, to see a small boy with a red shirt on and a knife in his hand. He had been leaned over a skeleton, and a book that sat next to the bones.
"Sweet Mother, sweet Mother, send your child unto me, for the sins of the unworthy must be baptized I'm in blood and fear."
She took another step, but the creaking floorboard had given her away and the boy, Aventus jumped surprised and startled by the sound, turning on one heel. His expression of fear had been washed away as if the boy had saw Akatosh himself, he started to jump in in joy.
"It worked," Aventus exclaimed with a hint of hope and tiredness on his voice. "I knew you'd come, I just knew it! I did the Black Sacrament, over and over. With the body and the... the things. And then you came! An assassin from the Dark Brotherhood."
She remained silent, and the boy gulped and slightly backed away before he spoke again.
"You don't have to say anything. There's no need. You're here, so I know you'll accept my contract." He said enthusiastically, as if he knew what and who she was but at the same time he wasn't who he was looking for. She wasn't apart of the Dark Brotherhood, but she thankful she'd get to kill someone again.
"Who do you need dead, child?" She questioned, crossing her arms.
"My mother, she... she died. I... I'm all alone now. So they sent me to that terrible orphanage in Riften-" Ravwen cut him off with a huff of impatience, and walked closer to him.
"I do not care for you life story boy, I only care for the target you want me to kill. Now spit it out." She said, making him take a step back.
"Honorhall. The headmistress is an evil, cruel woman. They call her Grelod the Kind. But she's not kind. She's terrible. To all of us. So I ran away, and came home. And performed the Black Sacrament." Aventus confessed, and he sounded slightly guilty but the guilt washed away when he began to beam eagerly again. "Now you're here! And you can kill Grelod the Kind!"
Valel scanned the boy over, before looking at him directly in his eyes. She towered over him, he barely came up to her chest. But she looked down at him with seriousness, and nodded her head.
"I will kill this woman for you. But know, I am not doing this for the kindness of my own heart. Assassinations don't come cheap."
The boy looked intimidated by her, as if she were a man and not a woman. But it didn't surprise her, she's always been intimidating herself. She used it against people sometimes.
"I have a family heirloom you can have. Supposed to be sort of valuable. I hope that's all right." He muttered out, hoping it'd be enough for her. It wasn't coin, but it wasn't a bad looking item either. It was a plate like object made out of rare material that she didn't know. He handed it too her, and she took it from him. Maybe she could make some coin off of it. She turned around wordlessly, and she was stopped in her tracks when Aventus spoke again. "Please hurry. To be honest, I'm kind of lonely here. As much as I hated getting sent to Honorhall, I really miss my friends there...and please don't kill Constance Michel. She really is kind."
She didn't turn around or respond, only turning to the room and walking down the steps with a heavy shut of the door. She felt eagerness.
She finally was able to kill someone.