The sky bled, with dusk quickly following suit. Dark clouds clustered and stirred over the night sky, giving the city below quiet streets a gloomy outlook. The vacant streets belonged to the sleepy town of Wayrest. There was still one, though, who wandered its streets. An Imperial woman dressed in a black cloak, completed with a cowl draped fully to her shoulders, did its job of concealing the wearer's identity. Slowing down, she came to a stop when she reached the entrance of a tavern. The woman curiously gazed at the sign hanging above the door, it was scratched out, making it impossible to read.
The cloaked one turned her attention back to the tavern and opened the door before entering. The room was filled with the sound of the bard's lute. As he sat by the fire, all the while casually grazing his fingers against his lute's strings but not doing any song in particular. Light, discreet cautious murmurs of conversation hummed. The delicate slurping of the regular patrons as they absent-mindedly savored the taste of warm ale, eyes focusing on nothing in particular. She approached a seated man, who seemed to be deep in his thoughts to care or notice that she approached him.
"Are you Vicue, my contact?"
The short, older man with one eye turned his head and glanced at her, then returned to his drink, taking another sip. "You know who I am. Wouldn't approach me if you didn't," He said without looking at her. She took another step closer, placed a small purse filled with coins on the table,, and sat across from him.
"I'm sure you know what I'm here for," she spoke softly.
He studied her closely while picking up the coin purse, tugging on the tiny string, and keeping it close. He emptied its contents into his hand, Clenched them gold tightly, and then shoved them into his pocket.
"Aye, the greatest tool I could offer, information. Look around," He said, making her instinctively obey. "These fools rather not know anything, they prefer ignorance. So I alone carry the burden of making everyone's business my business. Both figuratively and well in the literal sense as well." Anyarah narrowed her eyes and glared at a barmaid as she caught her curious stare. The maid just shrugged and just went back to washing mugs.
"I don't believe this is the safest place for us to speak," she said while looking towards the man in front of her and making him let out a slight chuckle at the sight of her uneasiness.
"Let me tell you something….uh," He said while motioning for her to tell her name.
"Anyarah."
"Anyarah, you could undress now and dance around bare-breasted and no one would bat an eye. We mind our own business around here." He said, taking another sip of ale. "Well other than me, but that should go without saying. So I ask you again, what do you want to know?"
"I want to know about a woman named Freed. She was an associate of yours in Skyrim quite some years ago." The man said nothing stared curiously at her in, and smiled.
"Been a while since I've heard that name, a real sweetheart. Why would you want to know a thing like that?"
"That's none of your business." She answered back to him, and it was evident in her tone that she didn't wasn't going to talk about it. The man smirked in reply.
"You must haven't been listening to a word I said." Besides the tightening of Anyarah's fists, one couldn't tell she was irritated. The man let out another low chuckle before taking another sip of ale. He could read body language pretty well and have quite easily deduced there was more to this mystery woman. She held herself with a cautious and calculated demeanor that belonged to a master thief or killer, perhaps… He could tell by her voice she was old, probably even more so than him. He wasn't so sure what to exactly make of this woman.
Without another word, Anyarah took out a second coin purse and placed it in the middle of the table.
"You're serious about this I see then. Freed was only the woman's last name to ensure where truly speaking of the same person, tell me her first?" He asked for the first time that night seriously.
"Lyla." She spoke so softly as if the name brought back painful memories. He mentally noted that before beginning to speak.
"Yeah, I knew her. Back when I had this operation in Skyrim she started something of war with Maven Black-Briar. If anyone knows Maven you know if it's one thing she hates, it's healthy competition. Oh, I most definitely had fun watching Maven's feathers get ruffled." He said, chuckling to himself again.
"That couldn't be possible I don't think we're talking about the same person afterall." The mystery woman spoke, interrupting him.
The man waved off her doubt and continued to pour out the second purse.
"She was an Imperial of slightly darker complexion, freckles, and a scar on her lip. That ring any bells?" He asked but didn't receive a definitive response. Taking that as his cue, he continued to recount his tale.
"Anyways turns out Maven had a brother; he was considered to be her enforcer. He's the reason why there is saying in Riften. 'No one messes with the Black Briars' ,and apparently the oaf was sweet on her. Lyla used that to her advantage, saw it as an chink in Maven's armor. One night Freed crept into his room for a little visit where she 'convinced' him to join her side." His lips slumped into a disappointed frown, and he arched his brow downwards. "Lucky bastard. What I would've given to spend one night with her…."
"Shut up."
Taking another sip of ale, he eyed her curiously before speaking again, "I like you. Don't speak much, and I can tell you're smart. My brother was just like you, though the difference between you and him is I could read him like a book." He said the last part offhandedly. "To summarize, the two ended up getting married, which royally pissed off Maven. Mainly since now, she couldn't utilize one of her two favorite trump cards. The Thieves guild.
"So what happened to Lyla?"
The man scoffed at her before taking another sip of ale. "Died of birth complications if you believe that sort of thing from Maven." He wiped the ale from his mouth with his hand. "As I said though she couldn't only one of her trump cards, but I doubt Maven was so aligned with her morals she neglected to use the other."
"What would that be?"
"The Dark Brotherhood." As he said that, he could've sworn, for a split second, he'd seen something shift in her demeanor. Something had changed once he mentioned that particular group of assassins, but because of her hood, he couldn't see her expressions. He had a few theories about what this woman was but no evidence to support any singular assumption. However, he did watch her cautiously as he continued with his story. "The Black Briars has always held a close relationship with those lot, but you didn't hear that from me. And so ends the story of Lyla Maven, or Lyla Freed, whichever you prefer."
"And what of Maven's brother?"
He finally raised his mug to his mouth, nearly killing the rest of the ale in the mug in one gulp. He appeared to savor the last of the ale as he licked its remnants on his lips. Then looking back up at the strange woman, he finally answered. "He was killed during some heist that half-brained Gallus cooked up."
"He was a part of the thrive's guild then?" The man hesitated to answer for a moment as it seemed one of his suspicions was confirmed true and never mentioned that Gallus was a part of the guild and that idiot had been dead for a long time. He wondered if this was some setup set by some of his old friends in the Flagon. He stole from those unappreciative bastards and fled Skyrim years ago.
He sighed before narrowing his one good eye at Anyarah. "So how is the guild?"
"Guild?" Anyarah said in confusion before shaking her head. "No, I'm not with any guild."
"Could've fooled me. Let me ask you something, why are you sticking your nose into the Black Briar's old buisness? What exactly is your connection with Lyla Freed?" The two sat in uncomfortable silence as it seemed the woman was in deep thought and had seemingly ignored his question.
"Come with me, and I'll show you." Something in her voice stroked his curiosity and made it seem like he'd had to do it. He downed the rest of his ale, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and followed her out of the tavern. The man frowned for the second time that night, visually showing his displeasure at the falling droplets of water, and then he sighed as he followed her into a nearby alleyway.
"This better be worth it." He grumbled under his breath, but the raindrops drowned out the sound of his voice. Once he stepped into the alleyway, he was presented with a sight that dispelled whatever effect her voice had on him, which made him lose reason and give in to his curiosity. There was a dagger in her hand, and it only took but a glance to realize how incredibly terrifyingly deadly it was. The blade was single-edged and slightly curved, with a serrated back meant to cause as much pain as possible. He went for his short sword, hoping to ready the blade to defend himself, but it was already too late.
The assassin was already upon him, slamming the hilt of her dagger into the back of his head, causing him to stumble and fall. She dragged him back into the alley, lifted him by the collar, and pressed him against the wall. "Please let me go!" The man cried through his concussed state. Anyarah's response was switched from holding his collar to forcing her forearm into his throat.
"Keep your voice down," Anyarah's low voice whispered in his ear, with her warm breath trickling down his face, which would have been sexy if she weren't going to stab him with a rather jagged blade. "Let's not trouble anyone else with these trifle matters. I'd rather keep this your business." She reared her head back and cackled menacingly before leaning back over to his ear again, "Quite the burden, indeed." She hummed, making Vicue's eyes widen as the blade plunged between his ribs. It punctured his heart and killed him instantly.
She removed her arm from his throat, letting the corpse fall. "Rot in the void, you piece of filth." She turned to leave but stopped just short of the alleyway's entrance. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out single nightshade; the cloaked one lightly kissed the flower and then dropped it on the pavement before once again commencing her exit and leaving as if nothing had happened.
Throughout the centuries, the people of Tamriel have always known them. Though taboo to speak of in public, they always knew they were there, ignoring them yet acknowledging them. The secret organization shrouded in mystery, the ruthless assassins who would stop at nothing to see their target eliminated, or simply the followers of Sithis and the Night Mother.
That's what they were known as once. Since the Oblivion crisis, the once-mighty organization has gone into recession. The Shadowscale training had long since ended, and the reach of the Brotherhood was no longer as extensive as it once was. They couldn't even maintain the illusion that they were everywhere, yet nowhere.
Even the Night Mother, who once spoke directly through the listener, had gone silent, and the Brotherhood was left to fend for themselves. Anyarah had stared down at her journal after every so often, with the sway of her quill, she would inscribe the words that she found clearly articulated the thoughts from her mind to the paper. This had become a recent hobby of hers. Describing her past in writing was admittedly new and seemed to serve as a good way to dangerously reminisce of what once was and what could've been and her favorite, if only.
'If only...'
She drew a melancholy sigh while running a hand through the back of her hair to the front, then allowing it to caress her face. Feeling every wrinkle that was brought upon her through stress and age. Despite it, though, she hardly looked her age. Or rather, at least she's been told anyways. 'If only Irvavana could see me now, surely she'd have a few jokes at my expense.' She thought with a small chuckle to herself before again getting hit with those same two words that thrashed against her psyche. Causing her to once again sink back into her contemplative, and very much so, depressing way of thinking.
'If only'
Two minuscule words, for her, carried a lifetime of pain and regret. She wondered how life would've been had if only she, in the beginning, was more like her brother. 'That boy, despite me forcing him into the early life of crime, was always initially kind and caring at heart. The same could not be said, for when I met him as a man, the only thing left was cruelty and rage. If only I had been there for him, in the end, he would still be here' She choked down the thought and forced herself to continue. Then there was Lyla's father, a man of true ambition. Together they nearly revived the shadow scales of old, restoring some power to their brotherhood. This, of course, wasn't to be. The Morag Tong attacked, undoing much of the work. Many died, my daughter's father among them, and the sanctuary burned, for me a second home to do so. Finally, there is my greatest failure, the mentor, and had I not been so naive or in haste to follow the bastard, everyone would still be alive. My family would still be alive. The sanctuary would still be alive. The damn brotherhood would still be alive. My sister, Irvana, would still be…
Anyarah ceased writing as a lone tear fell from her eye and landed on her hand that held the quill. She rubbed her eye and took a shaky deep breath calming herself. Taking a moment to catch herself and regain her composure mentally.
'alive'
She dipped her quill in the small glass container of ink and continued. 'Throughout the centuries, the people of Tamriel have always known my organization. Though taboo to speak of in public, there was always that fear in the back of your mind that you'd be next. That fear in which you knew that they never failed an assassination contract and no one was safe from their blood-stained blades. It was that fear our organization prided itself on and ultimately contributed to our success.
It would also be that very same fear that would be our undoing. The Dark Brotherhood, a secret organization shrouded in mystery, the ruthless assassins who would stop at nothing to see their target eliminated, and to some, simply the followers of Sithis and the Night Mother. That's what we were known as once. Though since the Oblivion crisis, our once mighty organization has gone into recession. The Shadowscale training had long since ended, and the reach of the Brotherhood was no longer as extensive as it once was. They couldn't even maintain the illusion that they were everywhere, yet nowhere. Even the Night Mother, who once spoke directly through the listener, had gone silent. It seemed as if our mother had abandoned us and left us to fend for ourselves.
Soon we'd hardly become more than a band of cutthroats; without our matron, the elusive idea that we'd ever reclaim our former glory became an illusion. An impossibility that only the mad or stupid would dream of. Or perhaps also the fools who followed the oaths of a long-dead creed. Whatever it was, in the end, they were all wrong. And I, an estranged assassin, after fulfilling my revenge, completing my self-given tasks, and watching many of my brethren die, some of which was regrettably by my hands, and through all that I've found, that in the end, I was the biggest fool of all. My dear reader, learn from my story, so the mistakes will not be repeated by the next generation.
Anyarah would at times, go on to illustrate key individuals and locations, and despite not being a good artist, whoever possesses her journal in the future would get the idea as she began to sketch herself as a younger woman. An old memory quickly flooded her mind. It was from her time in Wayrest as a footpad. She recalled much abrasiveness and carelessness in her youth. Needless to say, she was once quite the handful for Irvana. Anyarah couldn't help but let out an uncharacteristic giggle at the thought of being the bane of her sister's existence. It'd only be right to start from the beginning.
Glenumbra Year 4E 167
A young woman sighed as she felt the monotony of guard duty begin to take full effect. It was a pretty tedious night for the two guards standing at the vineyard's entrance. Not that guarding a vineyard ever was that thrilling, to begin with, but tonight seemed especially slow. Typically, she'd settle with listening to the obnoxious chirping crickets, but tonight they were unusually silent, which was most definitely a pleasant change.
The guard looked towards her partner and knitted her brow. As of late, he's been having difficulty keeping his eyelids from closing. She'd meant to talk to him about it but figured it could wait until later. As of now, she yearned for a peaceful walk through the forest and a break from this tedious post.
"I'll be back." She spoke suddenly and caused her partner's eyelids to jolt open. He nodded his head knowingly but had no idea what was said. The Daggerfall guard rolled her eyes and began to walk off. "And do me a favor, keep your damn eyes open."
The guard twisted the knob on her lantern, allowing it to shine slightly brighter. As she strolled through the forest, she began to appreciate the change of scenery. A battle-hardened warrior shouldn't be confined to the dullness of staring at an empty road.
No, she craved adventure, but as a guard apart of the night's watch, her duties came first despite what her passions and heart demanded. The Daggerfall guard frowned slightly at that thought but quickly shook her head and dispelled it from her mind.
'No point in sulking about that now.'
As the guard continued her hike through the forest. There was a sudden chilliness that went down her spine. No sound came from the generally noisy forest filled with wildlife; in its place was an eerie quiet. It was quite peaceful at first and then slowly became a little unsettling. She couldn't shake the feeling she was being watched, and just as the thought crossed her mind, her foot collided with something stiff.
'It almost felt like…' The guard shone her light forward and allowed it to illuminate the ground before her, and she instantly wished she hadn't. Her eyes widened behind her helm, and her mouth hung open, agape and screaming in mute horror. Several of her fellow Daggerfall guard brethren laid out bloodied, dismembered, and mutilated.
'Who could have done this, against a whole patrol squad?'
Kneeling, she hesitantly held out her hand to touch the guard. She kicked but stopped as she heard the leaves behind her rustle. Within an instant, she whirled around and drew her sword. While desperately shining her light toward the attacker. Only there was no one there, and again she heard footsteps in another direction and faced her lantern towards it. Still getting the same result.
"Show yourself!" The guard cried out instinctively, attempting and failing to pour authority into her voice. She backed away slowly and attempted to turn tail and run but it was too late. A dark figure leaped out from the tree he was perched on and was already upon her. His knee landed on her spine and he had one hand on the back of her helm, forcing her down. Before she could even hit the ground fully, his blade had found its way through her nape.
Once she was dead, he got up and looked toward the carnage around him. His serpentine eyes gleamed with interest as this was not his doing. "Clever girl, she let this one discover the mess she made knowing I'd be tracking the guard." The Argonian's tongue slithered out his maw as he chortled lowly to himself. "She's showing off. It seems Irvana was right, after all, you are full of surprises."
"Spacing off again, Erik?" A disgruntled voice barked out and snapped his fellow guard back into reality. "I swear we'll be as good as dead with you keeping watch." The guard hastily wiped the crust from his eyes and instinctively stood at attention but relaxed upon seeing who it was.
"Oh, it's you." The guard quietly grumbled under his breath but loud enough for the man to hear.
"Now is that any way to speak to your superior?" The gruff voice spoke again, holding back his amusement and causing the sleepish guard to glance towards him. The man was a lot taller than him, which he found frustrating, as he was the younger sibling between the two.
"So superior that you were put on guard duty, shouldn't you be clearing out caves infested with bandits or something?" His younger brother crossed his arms and grimaced.
"You just love raining on my parade." The guard yawned and shrugged.
"Only when I feel the need to knock you off your high horse." He replied as he ran his hand through his braided raven-colored hair, and his eyes twinkled in amusement as his brother sighed in defeat.
"Hey, wasn't Joseline supposed to be here at the front gate with you?"
"Left just a while ago, I figured she had to go drain it or something." He paused as he mused over something in his head before continuing.
"That's odd." The guard's brother raised an eyebrow in bemusement.
"At her taking a leak?" The bluntness of the question made the elder brother flinch, and he scratched the back of his head in embarrassment.
"Well, when you put it like that." The guard uttered faintly under his breath.
"I'm more concerned with the increase of brigands activity in the area," he stated, narrowing his eyes on the road that seemed to stretch indefinitely. "They're growing bolder by the day, we should be taking the fight to them, but instead we're here protecting this noble's assets."
The older brother yawned and stretched his arms. "Eh, what're you gonna do? This, Hlaalu guy bought the king's protection.
"And that doesn't bother you, being bought like some mercenary?" The officer growled, feeling quite irritated by his brother's apathy.
"Hey, whatever puts food on the table." He said with a shrug and continued. "And besides, I think I prefer boring tasks, boring means easy."
"Well, it's a good thing no one cares what you think."
"Hey, I didn't leave my simple farm lifestyle, only to find myself on the other end of someone's sword."
"And I didn't leave my life as a farmhand to become a mercenary. Even if the job pays well."
The older brother erupted in a burst of laughter, "Look at little Jurek still trying to play the hero. What's next, are you gonna save the princess from the mean old dragon?"
"You know what, the hell with you." He spat in disgust before spotting someone slowly limping down the road toward them. "Who is that?" He spoke, also drawing his brother's gaze to the stranger. As the person got closer, they could see it was a young woman, barely out of her teenage years. Bloody and appearing to be injured she desperately cried for help. "By the nine, look at her, she's hurt!"
Both men rushed to the aid of the frail woman, grabbing her by each arm and hoisting her on their shoulders. "Who did this?" Erik asked as they carried her to the vineyard.
"High...highwaymen." Her faint reply was barely audible, but Jurek felt as if it were practically shouted in his ear. He gritted his teeth and clenched his fist.
"Of course." He growled out viciously before calling out for help.
"Don't worry, we'll get you the help you need just hang on," Erik said with concern filling his voice. This wasn't a fate anyone should have to meet at such a young age. The woman smiled faintly and opened her mouth to speak.
"Divines bless your kind heart." The words came out weak, but he gave her a reassuring smile. "Idiot." He raised an eyebrow at that last part but had no time to question her as he felt a sharp pain in his chest. He looked down and saw a small steel dagger implanted into his chest.
His brother also had no time to react as the murderer ripped the same blade out and slit his throat with it. At that moment, a third guard responded to the earlier cries for help. His eyes widened from the scene before him, and he shakily attempted to draw his sword but suddenly stopped and fell over. The same weapon was in his skull, right between the eyes.
The assassin walked over, plucked the dagger out, and walked through the entrance to the vineyard. Narrowing her eyes at the mansion, she felt a spike of rage boil inside of her. She'd been meaning to pay that bastard back after all these years, and tonight offered the perfect opportunity. Her lips formed a wicked grin as her blade glistened from the moonlight, and crimson liquid seeped off it.
'To hell with the plan, It's time to settle the score.'
As the cozy flames of the fireplace crackled and continued to scorch the blackened wood. A young Breton man was mesmerized by those scarlet orbs that eyed him lustfully. How she focused on him with a sort of deadly fascination sent shivers down his spine and was quite a turn-on simultaneously.
He watched with a lustful smirk as the nude Dark elf woman stood in front of the fire and danced provocatively. She swayed her voluptuous hips while raising her arms and bending them slightly. The elf did this while keeping her own seductively smug grin, and he had found this even more alluring.
"I've never seen a Dunmer quite like you before." The Breton spoke, causing her to raise an eyebrow and lightly giggle aloud. The elf said nothing back as she ran her hands through her curly silver hair.
"Isn't that something?" Her voice rang with a playfully sarcastic tone, and the Dunmer took a step closer. "It seems I've caught the attention of one of Cyrodiil's most elite businessmen." She paused while halting her performance and striding over to him, and grabbing a bottle they neglected from off the bed. The elf leaned forward and presented it to him with a purr. "I should count myself lucky."
The Breton man chuckled as he unscrewed the top off a bottle of fine Altmer wine. "As you should," he said as he poured the contents of the bottle into a glass and handed it to her. As he did the same for himself, a sudden thought came to him. "What's your name, by the way, I must've forgotten."
"You never asked." The Dunmer spoke back plainly, amused by the question. "We were too busy with the frolicking I suppose." The elf playfully said back, while biting her lip with a wink. "Navah." The Dunmari asserted as she propped a hand on her waist.
"You know, there's something about you that sets you apart from most other wenches I usually come across." He eyed her up and down, and admired her beauty with a lustful hunger. "You have this air of mystery that's a little frightening, but even more so enticing."
"Us Dunmer can be quite sexy," A sly smirk formed on Navah's face as she put the glass down and moved towards him.
"From what I've seen so far," he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her closer, "I wouldn't call you a liar." He said as he leaned in and roughly embraced her. He pushed his tongue into her mouth and kissed her savagely. The elf pushed him onto his back and crawled on top of him.
"My, my, someone's eager," Navah whispered seductively into his ear before allowing their lips to rejoin. The Breton savored her taste even more than before, but something began to feel off.
He felt weaker, as if his strength was slowly leaving him, and then an unbearable pain erupted in his body. He tried to throw the elf off him but quickly found he couldn't move. His limbs felt as if they were frozen, and his eyes reflected his horrified realization he was paralyzed.
The Dumner watched him; her eyes glinted with amusement, and he soon began choking on his blood. That's when she allowed their lips to part, propping herself up on her knees and smiling. Navah looked down at the pathetic man, admiring her handiwork. She had this fool wrapped around her finger for a while now, like a spider trapping its prey, and as fun as this was, she had to strike. The elf glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner of the room.
'It's about that time.' The Dunmer mused as her attention was grabbed by another bloody cough. The seductress looked back down at her prey.
"I'm surprised you're still alive, I did hit your heart after all." Her hand traveled to the handle of a spectral blade plunged through his chest. Without warning, the bound sword ripped out of his chest and killed him instantly. The elf admired the blade, daedric by design, or technically a real daedra in the form of a sword. She watched as the weapon momentarily illuminated a dim purple light, signaling it devoured the soul.
Navha opened the palm containing the spectral blade, allowing it to dissipate into nothingness. The seductive smirk of the Dark elf never wavered as she crawled over him while tracing a finger up his chest and lightly tapping the large wound in his chest.
"Well that's too bad," she spoke condescendingly to the corpse. "I could've gone for another round." She raised off him and redressed herself in the black evening gown she wore previously meeting with this filth. As she opened the door to the room, she turned and looked at the dead body.
"Don't take this personally, it's just business, I'm sure you'd understand. Perhaps someday you can find it in your severed heart to forgive me."
The constant rhythmic ticking of an old grandfather clock was the only sound that filled the room. It was as if the ticks counted down the seconds he had left. A dark fist slammed into a wooden desk following that thought, and a raspy voice cursed out as if damning fate. His demise was near, and he knew it.
His gaze fell into his reflection as he gazed into his dagger. He grimaced as he saw his unsavory disheveled appearance. He hardly recognized the man he was staring at. The exhausted elf sighed, brushing a hand down his face. The past few days have taken their toll on him since he found out, and he's tried all he could to prevent this and even stopped so low as to bargain with these cutthroats. Though it quickly became apparent no one could escape the brotherhood.
The elf's bloody-tinted eyes rested on a framed miniature painting, and quickly found his features souring even worse upon looking and a growl escaped his lips. It was a painting of him and a Bosmer woman standing side by side while she held their child. Despite only three years passing a disease managed to atrophy his physical prowess. It reduced him to a near cripple. The elf roared in rage before throwing the portrait to the side and left shortly after that, liquidating half his assets and starting a rival trading company.
"Damn it." The Hlaalu mumbled to himself as he massaged his temples. The Dunmer was starting to get a migraine from all this stress and pent-up aggression. Peering out the window, he'd hoped to see the city watch the hired guarding his home but was disappointed as none were in sight. They were probably off shirking their duties and doing who knows what.
"Guards," he spat in contempt and once more slammed his fist against the wood. "Hire them for one job and they can't even do that. Damn that king assuring me he'd send his best." Reaching into the drawer and searching for the only thing that could help him now. "All I got was lies through his teeth and waste of precious gold." He grinned triumphantly as he found what he was looking for. An ivory pipe. He coughed violently at the touch of the pipe, even coughing up some blood in the process, but he needed something in his lungs right now.
The broken elf forced himself through his coughing fit to light the pipe despite his poor lungs. Amazingly he didn't cough the pipe out of his mouth; rather, the coughing ceased altogether, and it was as if his body finally submitted to the polluting of his lungs.
The Hlaalu rested his back on the chair as he exhaled smoke through his nose. He was not a good person, quite the opposite actually, and he made peace with that the second he killed his brother all those years ago. One thing he couldn't quite make peace with was death. His own death anyway. Up until his later life the idea of death was foreign to him, and why shouldn't it? He was invincible. He was feared. He was in control. He was...
The Dunmer sighed as his train of thought was discontinued by a repetition of knocks. He neglected to say anything as he wondered how he'd been reflecting. Then growled as his irritation grew as the banging got louder.
"It's open damn it!"
The doorknob turned slowly, and the door opened to reveal a dark elf woman in a black evening gown. She walked into the room while closing the door behind her.
"What do you want?" The broken elf demanded and failed to get a reply from the woman.
'Wasn't that his apprentice's new plaything?'
The seductress took another step forward while opening the palm of her hand, and in it was a small purple ball of light. She clenched the ball tight and released it and allowed the ball to dissipate into nothingness. "So you came here to show me magic tricks." The man said in confusion. "That's neat and all but-" His voice was cut off as the sudden realization came to him.
The Dunmer woman standing in front of him was no longer in that evening gown but was dressed in dark robes worn only by those in the Dark Brotherhood. Even the handprint marking on the robes' chest is a testament to her allegiance.
"You've been quite the naughty boy, Elonis, someone wants you dead." She cruelly cackled and cooed while saying his name.
"Wait! I could be of great use to the brotherhood...I..I'll pay king's ransom every month to you, just please let me live." The assassin hummed to herself thoughtfully, and he felt hopeful as she considered his offer.
"Your wife believes otherwise," Navah retorted cheekily with a maniacal smirk plastered on her face.
Elonis glared back at her, seething in outrage as it began to click. His wife was the one who hired these cutthroats. With him dead, his son would inherit his fortune and since he wasn't of age yet, she'd claim it in his stead. The broken elf's blinding rage superseded his fear, and he recklessly acted on it.
He grabbed his dagger and attempted to bring it down on her, but the assassin had anticipated this. She caught his wrist, twisted it, forcing him to drop the blade, and caught the weapon in mid-air. Then she finished the brutal maneuver by slamming it into his hand, effectively pinning him to the desk. The assassin giggled, finding herself quite amused by the brash attempt.
"Ah, ah, ah, why so serious, sera?" The seductress whispered into his ear and further aroused his temper with her patronizing tone. "Was it something I said?" The Dunmer continued as she slowly twisted the dagger in his hand. Elonis fell to his knees, unable to withstand the pain, while his hand remained firmly pinned to the desk. The assassin licked her lips and savored the cries of agony that flooded her ears.
"If….if...you want me dead." His ragged voice trembled with many emotions, and then he looked up, his bloody eyes boring into hers. "Then just do it!" This slightly piqued the assassin's interest.
'It seems he isn't as much of a coward as I pegged him for.' Once more, the blade twisted suddenly, earning more cries of anguish, and then it was painfully torn out. 'Which makes things more fun for her.' Navah gripped him by his hair and pulled him back to eye level. "Ah, but I never said anything about killing you."
He gritted his teeth due to the searing pain he felt in his hand and narrowed his eyes at the woman. "Then wha-"
"Yet." She finished while leaning her face closer to his ear. "And it will be slow and painful." Navah let go of him and allowed the elf to crumble to the floor. "But, " she sighed, disappointed while walking around his desk. "I need you alive, the bonus I was promised was too good to pass up." The seductive killer once again grabbed him by his hair, forcing him up, and shoved him towards the door. "So move it!"
Elonis stumbled forward due to his weak leg and fell to his knees. Navah frowned as she watched him lean up against the door for support and slowly pick himself up. She forgot about his poor physical condition. Getting him out of this mansion might be difficult if she'd have to fend off the guards that roam his halls.
'I hope you played your part, little sister.'
The door Elonis used for support unexpectedly opened, causing him to fall backward, and in the entranced revealed another cloaked figure.
"Ah, I was just thinking about you, Annie." The temptress paused while eyeing her companion with a smile. "And it seems you've kept busy, everything's good on your end I assume?"
"Do you even need to ask?" The cloaked figure stepped forward but locked her deadly gaze on the fallen elf. Elonis looked up and was appalled, this woman's clothes were painted in blood, but not a noticeable scratch was on her.
"No, I suppose not." The Dunmer assassin watched her college carefully. "We should go then, I'll lead him out." Her companion neglected the words spoken to her and took a step forward toward Elonis. The injured elf looked up at the figure looming over him. There was a certain familiarity in the way this new assassin spoke. The bloodied assassin knelt over without breaking her hardened gaze from the elf. Navah saw that her sister's hand was slowly moving toward her dagger. "May I remind you that the kill isn't ours to make?"
"Do you remember?" The assassin spoke abruptly, not to her sister, but to the sprawled-out elf. He knew her from somewhere but didn't have time to speculate. The new assassin's hand shot out and was wrapped around his throat.
'What the hell!'
"The last words I swore to you before you left me to rot in that cell?" Venom coated her tongue as she growled her question. Elonis looked back at her, his widening in realization.
'It couldn't be!'
"I told you I'd have your head." As the dagger left its sheath, a sharp metallic sound rang through his ears. "A promise I intend to keep!"
"Anyarah, stop!" Navah demanded, quickly moving to intercept the young woman's hand, but was too late. The blade was thrust into his abdomen twice before Navah caught Anyarah's arm. While she couldn't puncture the stomach another time, the damage had already been done.
"What did you do!" Navah shouted, furious that her explicit command was ignored. Anyarah ripped her arm away from the seductress.
"What needed to be done." She responded bitterly while sheathing her weapon. This only served to anger the Dunmer further as she pressed the wounds with her hands and attempted to halt the bleeding. Though it soon proved to be a useless endeavor.
"No," the Dunmer's eyes darted towards her shadow sister. "You did what you wanted!" The dark elf assassin shouted back with anger filling her senses.
"He was going to die anyway!"
The seductress shook her head and crossed her arms."Your inability to control yourself was precisely why Cylin didn't want you on this contract. Get out of your ways and look at the bigger picture."
Anyarah glared at her before turning away, and she didn't have anything else to say on the matter. Navah knew this, and there was no point in pushing the matter any further, at least not right now. The Dunmer summoned another ethereal blade with a frown. Anyarah stood and began to leave through the door before halting at her sister's words.
"Let's hope this wasn't all for nothing now."
"P..please...wai-" Those were the last words of a coward before a blade brought his swift end. His scaled killer simply scoffed in dissatisfaction before turning towards the mansion and sitting on its steps. Taking out a small rag, he began to clean his bloodied weapon.
The Argonian ran his rag up the refined silver blade with a grin. Training recruits often left little time for contracts and little time to hone their own skills. So he had no choice but to take on an assignment like this. It had been too long, and he couldn't afford to lose his touch, could he?
The Argonian raised his gleaming weapon and couldn't help but admire its craft. The silver blade curved near the middle of its length. Almost as if the sword wished to be a scimitar, but the uneven broadening of the blade prevented the classification as much. It was like a machete-scimitar hybrid, offering the power of one and the cutting speed of the other.
He raised his head upon hearing the sudden whining of horses and looked towards the vineyard entrance. Approaching was a horse-drawn carriage of their employer.
"I was just wondering if I was going to have to retrieve you, Irvana." His raspy lizard voice unexpectedly spoke out, making the person behind him slightly flinch.
"It seems like there's no sneaking up on you, is there Anjum?" The seductress lightly snickered before stepping beside him. "We didn't keep you waiting too long, did we?"
"I'm not the one you should be worrying about." His head gestured towards the carriage before glancing at Anyarah and noticing they were missing someone. "Where is he?" He inquired while aiming his yellow serpentine eyes back at the Dunmer.
Irvavana pointed to the large sack that dangled at her side, and instantly he knew what it was. His lizard features mirrored something of uncertainty. Not an emotion he showed often. "That wasn't part of the plan."
I know that!" She growled before pointing to Anyarah with her thumb and crossing her arms. "A question you should be asking her!" Anjum's eyes drifted to his other shadow sister and met her narrowed eyes, challenging him to say something.
'Right, I'm not even gonna touch that.'
The Argonian promptly turned back to the elf. He has no plans of broaching that subject with that girl. "So what's the plan?" Irvana uncrossed her arms and sighed as the carriage halted in front of them.
"Let's just see how this plays out." She spoke while walking down the steps. The carriage door opened, and two people got out. The first was a Bosmer woman, and the second was a toddler, barely in his fourth year. Though unlike her, his complexion was a lot more toned, and his eyes were a darker shade of green. Quite the far contrast to his mother's lightly tanned skin and lively green eyes, akin to emerald jewels.
The Bosmer woman eyed the assassin with apprehension but wasn't nervous. Her analytical eye caught every detail before bringing them up to meet the Dunmer's gaze. "Irvavana." The Wood elf simply said while wearing an unimpressed frown.
"Valna." The seductress spoke back with a smirk.
"I trust everything went as planned?"
"Yes, but we didn't plan for everything I'm afraid." Her employer's emerald eyes sharpened as the words left her lips.
"Where is Elonis?" An oversized bloody sack landed at her feet, hitting the ground with a sickening 'plop'. Valna looked down at the sack and nearly gagged at the foul odor that protruded from it. She looked back at the Dunmer with a grimace. "That was not part of the deal."
"Yes, well as I said, we didn't plan for everything." She said, shrugging her shoulders and sighing. "He killed himself, I merely took his head as proof of his death." Valna's harsh gaze never faltered, showing that she didn't believe her.
"The deal is off." Irvana crossed her arms and knitted her brow. Her glinting silver hair slightly blew in the wind.
"Impossible." She bluntly stated while returning the harsh gaze with one of her own. "After all the trouble we went through, a simple payment is more than you owe us."
"That doesn't matter, the terms of our agreement weren't met. I owe you nothing."
"Then it appears we are at a standstill." Anyarah and Anjum slowly approached the two and stood on both sides of Irvavana. Valna however, paid them no mind and kept her cruel emerald eyes pinned on the assassin. Then suddenly, she reached out, snatching her son by the arm, and jerked him forward.
"Eli," She spoke as the boy stumbled forward from the unexpected action. The boy was barely able to catch himself before he fell. "The bag, open it." The boy's verdant eyes fell onto the bag in question. It was bloodied and appeared to be filled with something. Once the boy started approaching it slowly, he found he had to pinch his nose to prevent the offensive odor from flooding his nostrils. As he undid the string that tied the sack close, he looked back to his mother, who was still glaring at the assassin, but, even so, noticed his hesitancy. "Do it, Eli. We don't have all night."
"Y...yes mama." He hastily spoke at his mother's demand before opening the sack and, to his horror, saw the contents inside. His father's head lay within, staring back at him with a horrid expression frozen on his face. The boy backed away, terrified at something no one his age should witness. Valna looked on at him with that ever so cold scowl he'd grown accustomed to, especially when she'd scorn him. It truly showcased her disdain for him.
"Let this severed head serve as a lesson, Eli your father was weak, and that's what led him to that fate. In this world, only the ruthless survive, and the weak perish. Remember that." The Bosmer paused as the boy looked back at her, hyperventilating. "Remember that, or live to die a coward's death, like your father."
"What a heartwarming lesson." The Dunmer propped a hand on her waist and chuckled. It appeared she was grooming the heir of her trading empire to be a monster. No doubt he'd be following in his mother's footsteps, perhaps lining their pockets with gold soon. Irvavana watched in amusement as he fought for air to fill his lungs. It was then Valna's hardened gaze turned back towards the assassin.
"One better learned if he had dealt the killing blow instead." The Bosmer glanced at the boy once more, and the poor child was having something of the sort of a panic attack. "But this will have to do."
"And what of our deal."
"Come." Valna simply demanded before turning and starting towards her carriage. "You do one more thing for me, and I will reconsider sponsoring your little death cult." She glanced a little over her shoulder before raising her voice. "Come now, Eli." Her softened words rang out in a way that was reminiscent of a hymn. "There's more work to be done." The boy merely nodded and followed wordlessly. His tongue lay dormant in his sealed mouth, useless and incapable of conjuring any words.
"So we're going with her now?" Anyarah cocked a brow and looked toward her sister. Irvavana held her chin between her fingers and hummed in thought, as she'd been so prone to do in situations like these.
"Yes we are, " she replied while narrowing her eyes at the carriage. "But you're not."
"Wha-" Anyarah started her protest but quickly shut her mouth as she saw the hostility in her sister's crimson eyes.
"This was my contract, to begin with, and you deliberately disobeyed me after I vouched for you. How do you think that makes me look, Anyarah?" Her venom-coated words pierced the young woman like a veil of daggers. Anyarah sucked in her teeth and turned her head away from the seductress. A defense mechanism for when she was stumped with no justifiable answer. "Besides," She sighed again for the night. It seemed like she wasn't ever going to catch a break. "Someone has to report this to Cylin." Due to his stoic and strict nature, it wasn't a conversation either of them was looking forward to. "And so to make it up to me," Ivana's serious expression melted away, and her face broke into a toothy grin. "I figured better you than me."
Anyarah glared at her smug face before conceding. She supposed it was the least she could do. "You're the worst." Her sultry voice spoke before receiving a hard pat on the back.
"Ah, you flatter me, sera."
Anyarah's mind swelled with a multitude of thoughts that threatened her sanity. Which she supposed was to be expected considering Elonis's death. However, she had hoped to obtain some kind of gratification from killing the bastard. Especially after what he'd put her through, what he put all of them through. His death was supposed to symbolize the death of her old life, her old pain. However, it seemed the burning sense of vindication she once held was replaced and in its stead, an emptiness.
"Ugh."
Anyarah shook her head and sighed, dispelling the irritating thoughts harassing her mind, and continued traveling through the dark sewers beneath the city. Anyarah grimaced as the aroma of various waste became more pungent.
"Out of all the locations in Highrock, they pick the sewers," Anyarah growled as she saw a couple of rats skitter past her feet. Her face twisted into that disgust as she turned another corner. Soon, she approached the black door of Wayrest sanctuary. The assassin stopped just short of the door and removed her hood. She lifted her torch, illuminating the door and revealing herself in the process. Anyarah's caramel skin glowed in the light of the flame, and her amber eyes complemented the silky ebon hair she wore. That was braided into a ponytail and draped around her shoulder.
Her gaze fell on the handleless black door that had. It had one large skull carved with a black handprint on its forehead. Underneath the skull was a graphic depiction of a beautiful woman holding a bloodied dagger, and in the other was a much smaller skull.
The door stood firm, begrudgingly locked, and would remain as so until it heard the words it expectantly waited for. It didn't speak, nor could it, but she could still hear its question. A question that was unknown to all but the Dark Brotherhood.
'What is man's greatest fear?'
"What he cannot control, my brother."
'You are worthy'
Hey, what's going on, It's been a long while since I posted anything, but I'm back now, so better late than never. This is my 3rd revamp/reboot of this story. It's come a long way since I first published it way back in 2018 or something. It's crazy that I still think about this 4 years later enough to revamp and splice this chapter together. Thank you, dear reader, for taking the time to view this ch. I appreciate it. Also I thought I'd go back and edit this ch