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“There is a matter I would like to bring to the attention of the Jarl.” The Dragonborn’s voice, though soft, cut through the attention of everyone in the court- except Torygg’s Thanes. Elisif hadn’t squirmed in her seat since her engagement to Torygg, but she dearly wished to move under the Dragonborn’s stare. Falk Firebeard had thought comportment an essential skill for a Jarl’s wife, and Torygg saw no reason to gainsay Falk or the small switch he used. No one in the court felt any reason to gainsay Falk. The man was not, at first glance, physically imposing. His speech was jovial and his tone wry. The dignity he carried was not demanded. Torygg had once remarked to Elisif, that while they were hiding from the man on one of the balconies, any man with less power would insist on being addressed by his honor name or court title. Elisif, who had used the opportunity to eat as many sweet rolls as Torygg could sneak her, hadn’t commented. Elisif struggled not to comment as she watched her Thanes glance at each other. Her housecarl- whom she could not get to leave her side for love nor money- looked uncertain. The Dragonborn was only a man in the same way Falk was only a man. “Our Jarl is in mourning,” Falk said, his voice kind- but firm. “You should-” “Make her do her job? Yeah, the entire hold knows she is grieving.” The Dragonborn’s housecarl, covered in blood and guts and holding her steel sword loosely, nearly snarled from where she stood by the Dragonborn’s side. Elisif remembered Lydia from her visits to Whiterun. Torygg had made fun of her overly polite tone and her unbending manner- in the way Torygg made fun of all who roused his jealousy. Elisif had let the comments fall past her ears as she watched the, then pre-teen, kick in Ironhand’s knee. Elisif enjoyed watching combat in Whiterun- where everyone’s bloodlust seemed to overshadow her own. “Falk, I would hear him. He has done much for Skyrim, I can afford him a few minutes.” Elisif tried to make her voice seem grand but feared she rather failed. The tension that seemed to sit in her shoulders was making its ay up to her throat these days. The Dragonborn walked around Falk, ignoring the man to speak to Elisif. Elisif felt a vague romantic pang. She was still in mourning- but she was sure that if Torygg still lived, she would have had an eager partner in getting the man into their bed. It was no ordinary man who looks at the Jarl’s seat of Solitude and did not see Falk Firebeard’s hand. “Jarl, I have been asked to speak to you by members of your city.” The Dragonborn knelt on one knee in front of her, which more than made up for the fact he had not called her High Queen. The man was a known Stormcloak sympathizer- but he never used it to disrespect her, unlike her supporters from the Empire. Elisif wished to take Torygg’s bones and cut Ulfric Stormcloak’s throat open- cracking open the trachea and stick a burning iron down into his lungs, but Elisif was willing to negotiate. Unfortunately the negotiations seemed to be on limiting her to military power she could not control.“They have been barred from seeing you.” The Dragonborn’s voice made the room tremble, or perhaps it was just Elisif’s rage causing her to shake again. She had it on good authority it made her look like the most wounded of kittens- and it was not a look she wished to cultivate. She took a deep breath in and let out her expectations to address the problem at hand. Elisif raised an eyebrow. Falk left the ills of Solitude’s citizens to her discretion. He had told her it was good practice. The average citizens of Solitude were forgiving and simple people. Yet, even if Falk had kept her from helping- it was unlike him not to see to the problem himself. “I was unaware I had been made unavailable.” Elisif tried to moderate her voice. “How can I be of service?” Elisif saw Falk Firebeard’s jaw twitch. “On returning from Wolfskull Cave, Lydia was struck down by an illness. It was one we are both familiar with- and it simply needed an herbalist to make the potion with common ingredients- a combination of wheat, nirnroot, and butterfly wings.” “I assume you stopped by Angelina’s shop.” Elisif was familiar with each business, how much they were taxed, and their reputation among similar shops in Skyrim. “We did. We had done business with the shop before- and considered Angelina to be a patient and well-tempered woman. I only know of two other alchemists that could challenge her skills. She is an energetic and enthusiastic merchant. Yet, when we arrived, we found her shop nearly empty. When we spoke to her, we found her tired and her head was bandaged. After several minutes of inquiry, she finally told us the truth of it. Jarl, I do not support the Empire- but I beg you to put that aside for a moment. Angelina is being asked to give too much to your cause. Her stocks and stores of ingredients are nearly empty. She cannot pay for children and bounty hunters to get her more ingredients because the Legion is not repaying her in coin. Nor would she be able to afford the price of ingredients now, as bandits and dragons roam the roads- driving the up the risk of collecting plants.” Elisif shot a glare at Erikur and Bryling, who seemed to be too busy paying attention to each other to hear what the Dragonborn was saying. They had both been active in the discussions of the movement in the guard. Elisif was frustratingly aware it was to her city’s detriment now. “The Legion is taking what little remains by force- potions and ingredients meant to be put aside for burials and potions made specifically for the elderly are being taken. I do not know why the Empire needs potions to help arthritis and supplements to give energy to the elderly: but they have the men and weapons skills to gather ingredients in the wilds of Skyrim, as a woman approaching her eightieth year cannot. After seeing her aunt hurt by the Legion’s soldiers, Angeline’s niece is about to brave the wilds. Jarl, Angeline has just lost a daughter- she should not have to lose a niece.” “This is concerning. Yet, you said there was more than one member of the city?” “I went to all that needed potions to see what ingredients are needed. Your blacksmith has no coin, little ore, and is exhausted. He is being harassed by legionnaires. He cannot afford to feed his apprentice. Your priest of Arkay is surrounded in rotting bodies because he does not have the potions, nor ingredients to prepare them for burial. The Bard’s College has lost two of its singers. The Legion has started taking all salt for rations, leaving food to go bad. Several citizens, including those on the farm to the south, have food related illnesses. The prices of everything are going up- but the Legion is paying for nothing, and your Thanes are still demanding the prices and rates of before the war.” As if summoned, her Thanes quickly began to argue at the Dragonborn. The Dragonborn, however, kept his eyes on Elisif. Elisif could spy Falk in the corner of her eye. “This is unacceptable. I will arrange for my Thanes to work upon lowering prices of goods for all Skyrim. For now, I believe it is time I speak with General Tullius. Dragonborn, you shall accompany me.” The Dragonborn would allow for the accusations, and Elisif, to be taken seriously. Falk stepped forward, his hands clasped behind his back in a way that made Elisif wish to cower in fear.“You wish to speak, Falk?” Elisif asked, knowing it would be worse if she did not give him the opportunity. She imagined her spine was ebony and clasped her knees, digging in her nails so she did not shake. “My Queen, these are not the matters to be discussed with a General.” Falk said, his voice gentle. “He does not rule Solitude, you do. It would be bad form to allow the Legion to have too much power in a place it does not belong.” “If he cannot stop his men from ravaging my economy, I do not see how he expects to lead an army to take back Skyrim.” Elisif picked herself of her throne and walked down the stairs. The Dragonborn and Lydia half a step behind her. She pretended not to hear Falk send a messenger to Castle Dour ahead of her, nor his hasty reassurances to Bryling and Erikur behind her back. “It appears I have misjudged Falk Firebeard.” Elisif heard the Dragonborn mutter to his housecarl. The Dragonborn still did not have the measure of him. It rained the entire way to Castle Dour. Elisif’s limited budget had been spent on court dress. It was useless for anything but looking pretty, but looking pretty was Elisif’s only real advantage at the moment. Soaked, the front white panel of the dress clung to her stomach and the undersides of her breasts. Despite a rigorously enforced diet, Elisif’s curves and stretchmarks were a point of contention. If seen in such a state, Elisif would have much more to worry about from Falk than a nicely arranged political humiliation. Thankfully, when they reached Castle Dour, Legate Rikke was observing training. She quickly hustled Elisif into the Temple, before finding and placing a fur around her shoulders. Rikke politely greeted the Dragonborn and offered his housecarl some water and a clean shirt. Elisif wished she could have offered the housecarl such, but since she had failed to balance the household budget the first few months of her marriage, Falk had given control of the assets to the cook and housekeeper. The last time Elisif had offered food to a guest, the food brought up was burnt and oversalted. Elisif didn’t make offers of hospitality anymore. “High Queen, I am very- Dragonborn.” Tullius immediately turned his attention from Elisif to the Dragonborn. “What do I owe the dubious honor?” “General, it is I who am seeking the audience.” Elisif managed to keep her voice steady- despite her nerves. “It has been brought to my attention my citizens are being overburdened- unnecessarily- by the war effort.” The Dragonborn began listing the same complaints he had given Elisif. Elisif watched General Tullius. He seemed bored by the news. Once the Dragonborn had stopped speaking, Elisif spoke. “General, I understand the war effort requires resources. I am willing to negotiate for an equitable trade of resources, or even manpower, so my citizens are not unduly taxed-” “High Queen, do you really expect I am going to make any decisions based upon the word of a Stormcloak sympathizer?” “The Dragonborn’s honor is unquestioned.” Elisif stated. “No matter the war, he has been equally diligent in managing the dragon crisis- across the whole of Skyrim. He is known for his good deeds among the common citizen, is a prominent investor with many of our distinguished merchants, He is personally responsible for managing banditry for the Jarls across the Holds. Political differences aside, he has proven his commitment to the people of Skyrim. I expect you to take his word in good faith. It is not unreasonable for you to come to a firm understanding with Solitude’s citizens.” There was a long awkward silence. Captain Aldis and Legate Rikke looked at General Tullius. Elisif tried not to fidget. Her furious energy was slowly being sapped away by worry. The longer nothing was said, the sooner- “Forgive me, General Tullius- the Queen has had a long day.” Falk Firebeard walked into the room. He wore an oiled cloak, which kept off the rain. His dry, confident state made Elisif feel more and more like a wet rat- and just as powerful. “Falk, I-” Elisif tried to dismiss him. “This is the latest in a long line of demands, Falk.” Tullius turned from Elisif. Elisif felt her confidence slip away completely. “Demands I hope the Legion will answer.” Rikke said. Her face was carved from stone. “I was unaware the soldiers had become so unruly.” Captain Aldis chimed in. “I was unaware we had taxed the cities stores to such a degree. I will find a way to compensate-” “Captain, please.” Tullius said. “We are trying to win a war. We are defending the Skyrim. Skyrim should bear some of burden. I am not entirely content with the Skyrim recruits. Solitude should be grateful the Empire has not invoked a draft.” Elisif felt her eyes go wide and her mouth open. “Institute a draft, General, and you will drive recruits to Ulfric.” The Dragonborn said, slowly. “Skyrim is full of fighters, but the Empire is not so loved as it was during the Great War.” “I just want to impress upon the High Queen, that the Empire has been very accommodating to Solitude.” “And Solitude is grateful.” Falk said, firmly. He stood next to where Elisif was seated and silently gestured for Elisif to stand. Elisif stubbornly stayed sitting. “The Empire is reliant on Skyrim for its trade.” Lydia broke in. “And even without conscription, Nords make up more of the Legions than Imperials. The Empire is looking out for its own interests in the Civil War. You are more reliant on Solitude’s goodwill than Solitude is reliant on yours, General.” “The more you speak, General Tullius, the more certain I become the Empire is not committed to working with Skyrim.” The Dragonborn broke in. Elisif could see the tension running through the Dragonborn. His hands were in tight fists. “Your word means nothing here, Dragonborn.” Tullius said dismissively. “Oh?” The Dragonborn’s voice became soft, but there was a reverberation to the syllable that made Elisif want to go crawl under a rock. “I wonder how much your word would mean to Skyrim if the story of Helgan became known. How would your negotiations with Whiterun go, do you think, if Balgruuf the Greater heard why the Empire was in his hold?” For a split second, Elisif saw Tullius become wary. It emboldened her. “I would be anxious to hear such a tale. Dragonborn, please share with us.” “I was trying to cross the border from Cyrodill to Skyrim.” The Dragonborn said quietly. The room was cold and still, the Dragonborn’s words wrote themselves on the air in a misty breath. “I didn’t know the border was closed. I had been in bad shape since the Great War. I was drunk when I stumbled upon an Imperial ambush. I had no weapon, no coin. I was knocked out and bound and put in a wagon with several prisoners of war and a horse thief.” The Dragonborn hesitated for a moment. “Ulfric Stormcloak was sitting right next to me. He was gagged, though none of the rest of us were. We were being transported to Helgan, which has since been razed by a dragon. We were pulled off the wagons infront of representatives of the Thalmor and a company of Imperial soldiers. The citizens of the town looking through windows, no one daring to come outside. Tullius had us lining up before a headsman. His ax was polished and there was a place for us to rest our head. The wood was already soaked with blood. There was no mention of a trial. It was not enough ordinary citizens could not speak or fight for a chance of honor. A Jarl of Skyrim was not allowed to speak in his own defense. The horse thief was shot in the back as he tried to run. A horse thief has a bounty of what, a few hundred gold? He paid with his life. Hadvar of Riverwood tried to speak in my defense. He pointed out I wasn’t out on the lists, but the Captain directing the men told him to execute me anyway.” The blood had drained from Rikke’s face and Falk looked taken aback. Elisif felt like she couldn’t breathe. There was a taste of nightshade on her tongue and her fingers wished to twitch. Her eyes cut towards the General, imaginig him standing still enough for her to wrap her hands around his throat and squeeze- to watch despair enter his eyes the way she was despairing. There was no chance of the Dragonborn not coming for her throne with Ulfric. Tullius’s wish to end the war early had doomed the Empire to failure in Skyrim. “General,” Elisif felt her hands trembling in rage. “Please tell me you did not arrange a mass execution with no trial.” “The Empire-” “The Empire has strict laws on crime, but as an Imperial citizen, the Dragonborn had the right to trial.” Aldis said. “Thank Goodness you didn’t succeed.” Rikke said, faintly. “If you had- you would have made Ulfric Stormcloak a martyr. He is a war hero, a Jarl of Skyrim- and you tried to secretly execute him without input of any of the other Jarls.” “I can’t unilaterally decide to execute another Jarl, General Tullius.” Elisif nearly screeched, she had lost everything in a moment. She had lost everything without having a chance to fight. She had waited and scrapped and made pleasant conversation with a man who had lost the war before it began. Lydia and Falk flinched at the sound of her voice “The fact the Empire tried to is just giving Ulfric more fuel for his rebellion. If the Dragonborn decides to share this, we will lose Falkreath and any hope of an alliance with Balgruuf. Ulfric murdered my husband, but I still must honor his right to a trial.” “You lost a husband, but how many sons and daughters of Skyrim have died for Ulfric’s rebellion?” Tullius’ face turned slightly red. “How many would be saved by-” “The guilty have just as many rights as the innocent.” Elisif said sternly. “No Nord will follow me if they believe they can be executed without trial. The threat of execution from an authority must involve the chance for combat and a record so kin and household may claim wrongful death or wereguild.” Elisif looked at the Dragonborn, whose mouth was slightly agape. It was an odd look on the face of a man with silver in his beard. Elisif took a deep breath in. “As you are one of Whiterun’s Thanes, I will write Balgruuf and invite him to discuss the reparations the Legion will be responsible for in order to right this wrong.” “Elisif-” Falk seemed to snap back into himself. “No, Falk.” Elisif stood up. “If you will escort me back to the Palace, I will place the letter into your hand, so you may give it to Balgruuf.” Lydia looked a little faint, but the Dragonborn nodded. They didn’t get out of the door before Tullius called for them to be stopped. While Rikke stood in shock, Aldis sprung to action. He drew his sword, Imperial steel gleamed in the light of lanterns while thunder cracked outside.
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“I think I preferred Cidhna Mine.” The Dragonborn said, looking bored- green eyes glazed with exhaustion. Elisif, who was in the cell across from him, would have also preferred to be in any other jail. Thur, the prison guard on duty by the cells, kept having to turn away members of the Legion. Elisif had to pretend she didn’t see the way the helmets would turn to face hooded eyes towards her. Elisif was allowed to keep the fur Rikki had given her, the bright red fox fur made her hair look drab and oily. She was using it to put pressure on her neck where Aldis had knicked her with the sword. Her dress was still damp and provided little to no warmth as she huddled on the straw. Dirty straw that was sticking to her legs and providing small pathways for tiny bugs to crawl up to her ankles. Thur kept averting his red eyes from her own, pretending he did not see her viciously scratching. The Dragonborn chuckled as a few of the gawking soldier’s flinched and made their excuses- running from the man who had watched the slaughter of most Markarth’s guard. While Thur wouldn’t look at Elisif, he had no problem talking to the Dragonborn. His partner, Elren, who stood by the door, had her brows furrowed, but did not seem prepared for the Dragonborn to leap out of his cells and slaughter the castle.. There was no one who could prove he had taken part in the slaughter. Still, it was a fool who believed the Dragonborn to be innocent of any murder. Elisif was rather unsettled around the guards- hence their assignment to Castle Dour- they had a habit of invoking Sithis whenever Falk came into view. They were scrupulously polite to Elisif, ready to offer a hand if needed or going to fetch whoever she needed on the few occasions she found her way to Castle Dour or the Inn.“I liked Falkreath’s prison. It was much warmer.” Lydia remarked. “Jarl, when you get around to kicking Firebeard’s ass- you need to see about putting more furs in here.”Or at least, that is what Elisif thought Lydia said. The comment was interspersed with suppressed choking- and followed by a huge hacking cough. Elisif tried not to flinch at the sound.“Lydia, are you well?” Elisif asked. She was uncomfortable around sickness and she was worried about contagion.“No.” Lydia’s voice was hoarse and angry. “Damn forge. Wasn’t worth the shield.”“Lydia-” The Dragonborn said wearily, as if this was an old argument. It was followed by a long round of coughing.“Let’s take a contract from everyone in Skyrim.” Lydia said in a deep voice- clearly meant to mimic the Dragonborn. “Not only the Jarl’s and actual people- but we should follow the leads of skeletons and ghosts and bandits.”“I don’t turn down jobs, Lydia.” The Dragonborn said.“Been without work too often to turn down anything that pays.” Lydia snorted, then went into another coughing fit.“What can help?” Elisif asked. Her lip was chewed bloody. She looked to the guards, who technically still worked for her.“We can’t do anything, High Queen.” Elren said from in front of her cell. “We keep having to repair the tunnel entrance, every time they escape, which is often. Captain Aldis finally just told us to not open the door.” Elren pointed to the cell across from Elisif.“I’ve paid my bounty the last several times.” The Dragonborn gave a rumbling laugh.“I’ll stop worrying when they set your bounty, Tyre.” Thur said. Elisif was not surprised at the familiarity. Tyre stopped to talk to everyone he met and Thur was a direct addition to her court by Tyre. Elisif had learned early on that everyone in the Blue Palace reported to Falk, but Thur was an addition that seemed to not notice whenever she snuck some wine.“Have they not set his bounty?” Elisif asked, concerned.“No, High Queen- nor your bounty, which is concerning.” Elren sounded uncomfortable- her voice was raspy. “If you don’t mind me asking, what did you do? Torygg has been down here every now and then for drunkenness. Before the war, I used to put a Jarl or Jarl’s son in Ivarstead’s jail- but the general practice was that the steward would come down and make a big kerfluffle and demand for the important person to be released.”“She tried exercising her power as Jarl.” The Dragonborn said, spitefully. “Was going to arrange a wergild between me and the Empire for Helgen.” His voice rumbled off the walls.“Did the General…” Thur looked at their compatriot across the jail.“The General has been talked down.” Falk Firebeard announced. No one had heard him come down the stairs. Elisif suddenly understood how the Dragonborn had continually escaped. Voices echoed off the walls, but footsteps did not- or at least in anyway a person could keep track of.Falk came and stood in front of Elisif’s cell. Elisif immediately dropped her hands and took a step back.“I was able to talk the General into a few days of jail time for you. The Thanes and I will sort out the problems with our merchants.”“A few days?” Elren looked offended on Elisif’s behalf, but Thur just scowled. A sense of darkness seemed to crawl through the air.“There is no problem with our merchants!” Elisif gave a harsh whisper. “The Legion is stealing from them without proper pay!”“They can be made to see the proper way of things,” Falk said. “Prices rise in war,”“Falk- some of the people suffering are the elderly-”“And a lot of young soldiers are dying in the war. The young who have many more years left to them.” Falk said exasperatedly. There was a sharp hiss from Elren. She had an aunt with her who had moved to Solitude with her from Ivarstead. She was gaining years- and the elf was one of the only old elves Elisif had ever seen. Falk carried on like he didn’t know or didn’t care.“You cannot be serious,” Elisif said, both hands coming up to cover her mouth.The silence coming from the cell beside her and from the guards was deafening.“This is the cost of your crown, Elisif.” Falk sounded world-weary. “I will come to see you in a few days. I will have the word spread that you have been struck with a sudden bout of grief.” Elisif felt an odd mix of gratitude and horror. No one would know where she was- except for the entirety of Castle Dour. Her people would think she was neglecting her duties, when-“As for you, my friend,” Falk said, moving to the next cell, leaving Elisif to cry silently to herself- pushing the image of Falk falling of Castle Walls to the front of her mind. It calmed her. “General Tullius is considering a bounty- though he wanted to have you beheaded for treason. I have given him the limit of two days to decide on the appropriate amount- and I fear he will take all the time at his disposal.”“I am grateful for your interference, but Lydia requires potions.” The Dragonborn rumbled. It was strange seeing such a large man- in both legend and in life- submissive to Falk Firebeard, but it was the kind of strange that fit into nightmares. Elisif was aware something was wrong, but it fit into the environment like a puzzle piece fitting perfectly.“She will have to wait until you have gone to another city.” Falk said, voice sympathetic. Elisif watched as Tyre’s hands clenched on the iron bars. There was the sound of a slow screech. The bars bent slightly away from the hinges.“With your Stormcloak leanings and the threat you issued against the General, you will no longer be welcome in Haafinger after the bounty is paid. You will be escorted to Dragon Bridge.”Elisif could hear the silence in the next room. She could taste metal in her mouth and she was certain the building would fall from the vibrations that were not there. “It will be as your will is spoken; I am sure.” The Dragonborn broke the silence, and Elisif shook- it was like the world was cracking beneath her feet. The smell of melting iron seemed to hang in the air. If Falk noticed he did not show it in his bearing.Then Lydia coughed, Falk took a step back and Elisif felt the pressure lift.“Falk,” Elisif said. “Can you please take the money for the medicine out of my own funds? Lydia is-”“Bearing the consequences of her master’s actions.” Falk said grimly. “And I will be happy to discuss your new budget with you once you have been released.”As Falk walked away, the entire jail seemed to hold its breath.“We aren’t going to hold you, High Queen,” Elren said, stubbornly- “Are we, Thur?”. She looked at the other guard. “Nor you Dragonborn.”Thur tossed the keys across the jail. Elren caught them in an easy onehanded grasp.“I don’t want to get you in trouble-” Elisif said, quietly. She thought of the days she went without food, locked in her room. The dresses with pins still stuck in them. The constant beratement and soft reproaches. Falk and Tullius could do much worse to soldiers.Elisif still walked out of the cell.“Problem is, you can’t go back- not right now.” Elren gave her nose a quick scratch. “I don’t trust that Firebeard fellow as far as I can throw him. Not after that show. I may wear a Legionare’s uniform now- but I have served in this prison for over twenty years. I know you may not need my opinion- but I am going to give it anyway. A steward has no business speaking that way to a Jarl, let alone a Queen. Old Istold would have had him a cell before he would let his family be berated in public- at least before old age took hold of him.I would be willing to bet he is worse in the palace- were no one can see him. No one powerful enough to stop him at least. Only Bryling and Erikur, who bought their way into power and that housecarl. If the housecarl was going to be useful he would have throw Falk out on his arse. You can’t stay in Solitude- not if you can’t get rid of the Vipers in your court and the General is bold enough to throw you in prison. I don’t know how many legionnaires are loyal to you in particular, but I can see how many are happy with Tullius right now, though I bet there aren’t many.”Elren stared at the Dragonborn’s cell for a moment.“Can you get her out of here?” The guard asked quietly. “If Tullius can have her thrown in prison, she isn’t safe here.”There was a long period of quiet.“Aye, I can.”“Aye, he can.” Thur said at the same time the Dragonborn spoke. “They got me out of a greater spot of trouble than being wanted by the General of the Imperial legion.”Elisif felt a chill run down her back. If she left Solitude, she would be giving Haafinger to Ulfric. The General and Falk didn’t keep her as a figurehead out of the goodness of their hearts. They needed her. They needed to reminder of the young woman widowed.They didn’t have the political acuity to know they needed the Dragonborn, too. They had already thrown him away- and with it the Empire’s chance of success. He would never join the Legion. He was a man who quite literally pulled himself up by his bootstraps- he had no kin. He had only his friendships, his honor, and his Legend. Skyrim was built on legends.Elisif had lost. She could not defend her own people from Tullius- she could not save the Empire from its own hubris. She could suffer or she could leave. The surety left her the moment she set foot in the tunnel- but her anxiety flowed off her back like water off a duck.Elisif should have resisted. She knew she should have- dug in her heels, commanded the guards to escort her to the Blue Palace and- and-Elisif didn’t know what the next step was after that. She didn’t want to know the next step. She was about to be given her freedom. True freedom. She almost skipped as she walked down the tunnel. (Or she would have skipped- if she was not so cold, her skin so tacky, and her face covered in tears and snot.)The Dragonborn had her wait behind the Alchemy shop as he got supplies. Elisif didn’t think much of it until Lydia assured her he left money on the counters afterwards.The Dragonborn was a thief. Elisif nearly started crying again as she realized she had backed a thief over the Empire.When the Dragonborn came back, he held up a few pieces of armor, trying to judge her size.“Lydia, do you think?” The Dragonborn trailed off.Lydia sighed and gave a slight cough.“Turn around, my Thane.” Lydia said. “Are you okay with me touching you and helping you dress?”Elisif startled but nodded. Lydia’s hands were calloused, but gentle as they pressed to her sides. Elisif felt her heart lurch as she realized this was the first time she had been touched gently since Torygg died. Her face felt like it was on fire and she held her breath as Lydia adjusted straps.“These boots are a bit too small.” Lydia spoke, relaxing the tense air around Elisif.“I’ll go find another pair.” There was a hush of breath as the Dragonborn disappeared again.“It wouldn’t be the first time I wore shoes too small.” Elisif said quietly, still unwilling to turn down any kindness.“We are going to be walking through marshland.” Lydia whispered back. “You want to have good shoes- ones that fit.” Lydia took Elisif’s dress and ripped it into strips. “Wrap this around your legs.” Elisif did what Lydia said but gave her a questioning glance.“Leather armor with a skirt is great for movement- and you will probably running more than fighting-“ Elisif felt her blush come back in full force, if for a different reason. “but I know few fighters who didn’t have severe chafing.”Lydia showed Elisif how to knot the fabric so the fabric didn’t make the cure worse than the disease.By the time the Dragonborn came back, Elisif felt less naked than she had in years. Lydia pulled out a pair of thick wool socks. Elisif and Lydia spent the next fifteen minutes trying to get the boots on.“Couldn’t you have gotten a more worn pair?” Lydia asked, grunting between coughs.“There is no pleasing you, is there?” The Dragonborn grumbled as he repacked supplies. “We need to get moving soon, hurry.”They were able to get the stiff leather around her shins and-“These may be the most comfortable shoes I’ve ever worn.” Elisif took a few steps. She could stand before a giant and stand firm-Maybe even Falk.“Hm, well- wait until we cross the marsh.” The Dragonborn walked over to the side of the platform they were standing on. “Lydia, you first.”Lydia crawled down the hay bales. The Dragonborn grasped Elisif’s hands (without asking) and suddenly Elisif was dropped down the ledge.“Move.” The Dragonborn’s voice pierced the darkness. Elisif quickly took two steps back and fell on her ass.A hand pulled her up by a pauldron and the only thing left was to walk.
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“Whiterun.” The Dragonborn rumbled into the frozen air when Elisif asked where they were going. “We are going to walk directly to Dawnstar, then head south to Whiterun.” Elisif nodded, not looking up from her feet. They had surprised Elisif by leading her towards the Blue Palace- sneaking her into the basement, when she was certain she should be going towards the gate. Leading her out a window, they slowly lowered her down the side of the Blue Palace, to a flat ledge- bits and pieces of stone flacking off and falling farther than Elisif cared to think about. Once Lydia, then the Dragonborn, lowered themselves-the Dragonborn strapped Elisif to the front of his body, using a bit of rope he cleverly tied into a harness. His muscles stayed loose beneath her hands, which were wrapped around his upper shoulders and neck. The Dragonborn proceeded to throw himself down the side of the Bridge, using the sides of his feet- and gravity, to keep himself from falling too fast. Once they reached the height of a giant, the Dragonborn threw himself off the side of the rock and onto the ground below them, throwing up shards of rock. Elisif couldn’t look away as they moved down. Her stomach swooped and dove as she clung to the Dragonborn’s armor with all her might. She wanted to scream- would have- if she was not so utterly terrified. Lydia quickly followed. Lydia, once she stopped coughing, untied them with rather less speed and efficiency than the Dragonborn had tied her on. Elisif thought Lydia was teasing him, due to the laughter humming under her remarks- “Not sure if I can get this knot.” And “can’t get my fingers through this loop”. The Dragonborn’s face was going red as a tomato and Elisif tried to pretend she didn’t feel his warm breath on the side of her neck. Elisif prayed she could forget this after it was done. “For the love of Talos, Lydia- just cut it if you can’t get it loose!” The Dragonborn growled. “Of course, my Thane. I think I need only pull-“ Elisif was on her back wheezing, breath knocked clean out of her. One of her thighs still caught on the Dragonborn’s armor, ripping a bit of the cloth wrapped around her legs. “Lydia.” The Dragonborn whined. “Please just cut it next time.” Lydia, who was looking highly abashed and had leaned down to help Elisif breathe, threw her hair over her shoulder and smiled up at him. “Going to be a next time, is there?” Elisif grunted, still unable to get breath back into her lungs. The Dragonborn was outlined in the rays of the morning sun, simply grunted, and told Elisif- “Come on, we have quite a bit of walking to do.” And they did. They followed the coast around until they got to a large hill- which the Dragonborn had to carry Lydia up. Lydia was pale, lips slightly blue- and shook slightly. Once they reached flat land, the Dragonborn started them on a jog down the road south- pausing only to spit at, what looked like, an ancient Nord burial ground. It was covered in Nightshade flowers and decorated with skulls- very obviously cracked with a large weapon. It made Lydia laugh, which put a small grin on the Dragonborn’s face. “If you can laugh, you can walk.” The Dragonborn said, dropping her in the middle of the road. Lydia, as usual, landed on her feet. A small bit of dust billowed in the air and Lydia adjusted her armor. “Fine, but we are walking. More important to be stealthy than fast.” Lydia scratched her cheek. Her face was ruddy, red splotches decorating sickly white. Elisif, irritated with how often she was out of breath, smiled. After they had walked a few miles, Elisif asked the story behind the Dragonborn’s disdain for the Nordic burial ground The Dragonborn groaned, deep and low in his chest, while Lydia said- “It is a tale of much valor.” Tyre snorted. Elisif kept herself from giggling through the beginning of the story, full of necromancers and the dead- even while Lydia was doing the faces of each of them as they were laid out by axes and the Thu’um. She gives a small snort when Lydia describes them getting hopelessly lost in a few connecting rooms full of Urns. Then Lydia starts describing the skeletons, mimicking the noises they made. The Dragonborn chimes in- reminding Lydia about how she accidentally slid down the tomb after slipping in some oil- armor clashing and waking every draugr in the area. Lydia uses that to jump in and tell Elisif of how they didn’t know regular draugr could shout back then- and one of them shouted directly at the Dragonborn’s shield- sending him arse over teakettle above five other draugr. “They all just sort of looked up, glowing eyes following him as he crashed and banged into the ceiling. Apparently, it was such a strong memory for the draugr, the Archmage couldn’t stop chortling when we met her.” “Why would the Archmage?” Elisif was confused. “She used to be a draugr. Apprentices accidently combined the wrong spells when they went digging in Saarthal.” The Dragonborn shrugged. “She is as confused as everyone else- but she’s a marvelous mage- and a better teacher.” “Why would she know about…” Elisif asked. “Apparently draugr share a hive mind. Don’t ask, I don’t know.” Tyre shook his head. Lydia continued with the story. The Dragonborn tore open his left boot when falling down some stairs. They lost their last healing potion when a chest tipped over and fell on Lydia in a small pond. Then came the interesting bit. “There were these stones, they acted like keys to the gates-” “I thought we agreed not to talk about this.” The Dragonborn said. His voice was cheerful. His eyes were flinty. “I am sure Elisif won’t tell anyone.” Lydia said, then sailed blithely on through the story. “There is this Shout that makes you run really fast. He is in one place, I hear a loud noise- then, Bam! He is in another.” Elisif nodded, though she had no idea what Lydia was speaking of. She hoped it would become clearer as the story went on. “So we figured out-“ “I figured out.” The Dragonborn put in. “Yeah, sure. He figured out that if he ran past the stones, then shouted, he could get past the whole bit and open the gates from the other side. We were pretty sure there was a lever there, but if there wasn’t I could go back and meet him at the entrance (most of these things have more than one way in and out. There was a bit of a problem, though.” “His boot?” Elisif guessed. “His boot!” Lydia squawked. “It was the funniest half run I’d seen him do (up to that point.). Three tries and he couldn’t do it. He lost another piece of the boot- and then, we woke up another skeleton!” “Lydia had been yelling a bit.” The Dragonborn said. “As funny as it is now, we were three days without seeing the sun and our tempers were never long to begin with.” Lydia nodded. “It is ridiculously hot in the tombs. The Archmage says there is so much residual magic from various enchantments and necromantic rituals that the combination of energy reacts to any warm-blooded person, setting off a chain reaction. You get too many people in there and you will be asking for another section of bodies. Otherwise, its quite pleasant. Three days in, and I felt smothered. We were both covered in sweat and the remains of the pond water had dried off- leaving us with a thick coating of grim. A Nord can handle a bit of dirt, but we were covered in the stuff. My Thane was half running, half jumping, and has opened his mouth to shout- and then this skeleton loses an arrow. It startles him enough that he turns halfway around and falls on the first gate as it closes. The fool doesn’t close his mouth, though. He shouts anyway, even though he’s half on the floor and already concussed- making him slam his head into the first stone.” “Leaving the gate open and giving Lydia her idea.” Lydia nodded, her hair was already a mess from the day’s walk. “I took down the skeleton and dragged its remains in front of the second rock, leaving the second gate open. Then I rolled down an Urn, setting it down in front of the third rock. Then I walked through, pulled the lever- and the gates were open. I dragged my Thane through the gates, up onto the steps, shut the gate and fell asleep.” Elisif listened to the rest of their adventure, laughing as Lydia described the Dragonborn’s half-concussed and exhausted fighting style. “I finally learned how to use the damn Muffle spell.” Tyre groaned. “We eventually used that the rest of the way. My back hurt from being in the crouch position- but it was better than being knocked in the head again.” “Or accidentally cutting a supporting beam.” “It looked like a draugr.” Tyre groaned. Elisif suddenly wondered when he became Tyre in her head, instead of the Dragonborn.“Remind me, when we camp tomorrow,” Lydia said aside to her. “I need to teach you that spell.” “I don’t have any magical talent.” Elisif protested. “Doesn’t matter,” Tyre said. “Need to learn it anyway, out here. Don’t know your fighting style, but in most cases, your best defense is running away.” “I am not a coward-“Elisif protested. “I can push a crowd off its arse by shouting, I’ve taken down bandit camps and Potema herself.” Tyre said grimly. “I’m telling you- best advice I have. If you can run, or not be noticed- you should take those options. There are too many problems in Skyrim to face all of them head on.” There was an awkward silence before Lydia continued with the story. “So, in the end, what you need to know is this. Four days, fifteen health potions, three shields, two swords, two wheels of cheese, one boot and four concussions between the two of use- we finally reach the main burial chamber. Statues come out of the water on either side of the walkway. The halls shake with greeting to the Dragonborn.” Lydia intones. “And there, on the pedestal, where we thought to find the horn of Jorgon Windcaller- the precious treasure that would confirm Tyre’s identity as Dragonborn and worth to the Greybeards- there is a note, and no horn.” Elisif gasps. “We find some treasure, I convince my Thane not to throw the note into the water (much better to follow the note and murder the person who placed it there.) And we follow a passage we assume leads to the entrance.” “And it did.” Tyre said. “And it did.” Lydia agreed. “Lead us right back to the Urn room. Where we promptly got lost, again. My Thane thought the best solution to the problem would be to smash all the urns so we could see where we were.” “I needed to let off some steam. You joined along with me, if I remember correctly.” “Aye.” Lydia said. “We had never actually traveled together before that point, not really. It was our first dungeon. Hobbled to Solitude and stayed in your remarkably pricy inn and didn’t move for a week.” Elisif laughed, but noticed she was feeling really tired. She hadn’t slept in over a day. Her eyes were heavy. “When can we stop?” Elisif asked. “We need to make it to some ruins first.” Lydia said. “We are walking between a Stormcloak camp and an Imperial Camp right now. We can’t stop till we’re past them. I’m gonna give you a stamina potion, alright?” They hadn’t walked for more than thirty minutes afterwards when they came upon an unusual group of people. “Hide her hair.” Tyre said in a quick whisper. He whipped off his helmet as Lydia gathered up Elisif’s hair, securing the mass with a piece of leather. Tyre stuck his overlarge helmet on Elisif’s head and Lydia poked and prodded around the edges, pushing stray hair under the helmet. It was not helping Elisif’s slowly developing headache. It did irritate some lethargy out of her. A group of six Thalmor were walking up the road. Pushed in between them were three tired and dirty prisoners. There was a Bosmer, an Altmer, and a Breton being hurried along. They hadn’t been stripped of their armor or packs, but Elisif saw the way the Altmer glanced around, hands twitching. It was the same way Elisif looked without Torygg’s hand to hold, or her without lockpicks. At least, when she wasn’t forced into stillness by Falk’s ever-present gaze. “My Thane…” Lydia said, under her breath. “Aye, I know.” The Dragonborn’s mouth was set into a sturdy line. The Dragonborn looked at Elisif, then looked back at the group. Elisif saw when he decided to move along, his face twisting with regret. “Keep your head down, don’t say a word.” The Dragonborn walked purposefully in front of her. “Halt!” The lead Justiciar said, in haughty tones. “Sir.” A sergeant, with golden hair turning slightly grey, at the front of the group hissed. “We don’t have enough elves to be arresting anyone else.” “Nonsense. We are Altmer.” The Justiciar gestured for the party to stop. The three prisoners in the middle looked especially grateful for the rest. There was a Breton in a Smith’s apron, a Bosmer in some fine clothes, and an Altmer in light armor. The Altmer in the middle collapsed on the ground, panting. “I hate forced marches.” She said in a raspy voice. “I am hoping this is a long one, my dear.” The Bosmer said, glancing around. She froze when she saw Elisif’s face. Elisif stared back. The Bosmer was a well-known diplomat, who had come to Solitude for Elisif’s wedding. She had traded in Bosmer finery for a warmer coat and fingerless gloves. She had come to Skyrim to seek a mage, Elisif wasn’t particularly sure which one- but Sybille had directed her towards Riften. The burly young Breton with a face that seemed to smile often, noticed- glancing between the two of them. A few of the Altmer guards started to notice as well. Luckily, Elisif thought in a distant sort of way, Falk had kept her away from the common soldiers, the only ones who would recognize her were guards from the Embassy. “I am Tyre, called Dovahkiin,” Tyre said. “Why have you stopped us?” “The Thalmor are allowed to stop any Nord citizen in pursuit of Talos worshippers.” “That is categorically untrue.” Elisif blurted out before she could stop herself. “The Thalmor are allowed to investigate- with the permission and aid of the hold’s guards, Talos worship in settlements. You are not allowed to harass travelers on the road, Nord or otherwise.” Tyre tilted his head towards her. “Well, well. Learn something new daily, don’t we Lydia?” “Aye, my Thane, we do.” Lydia swung her massive two-handed hammer off her back. The Justiciar looked startled, then glared at Elisif. His eyes narrowed, but Elisif was quite comfortable saying they had never met. He seemed to be the type of person to make himself known to everybody he met. “I am surprised to see a Thalmor patrol going around with prisoners on this road, in particular,” Tyre said. “I might even have an urge to investigate, it’s such a strange occurrence.” The elderly sergeant had gone a shade lighter as the blood drained from his face. “Do you know why that it is I am so surprised, Justiciar?” Tyre stepped forward, pulling out a long, ebony blade. “It’s because this road, in the direction you are heading, leads to a swamp- and not much else.” “We are going North to the Embassy.” The Justiciar had stepped back, the way a prey animal acts when it senses a greater predator. “That so?” Tyre’s voice was soft and congenial. “Imagine that. Your sergeant is leading you in the wrong direction, then. You should be taking the road about ten miles south of here, following it west. Follow it straight past Morthal and it’ll take you straight to Dragon’s Bridge. Follow the road North about twelve miles and take the western path up the mountain- you can go without ever setting foot in a swamp. We are heading south in any case, might as well escort you to the crossroads. Can’t be too careful, even with those fancy elven weapons. Might be good to have some company.” The justiciar squinted at Tyre, then looked back at the sergeant. “Simple, as your kind ever are. I do not need you to give me directions. Where we take our prisoners, is our business.” “Do you have the Writ of Arrest?” Elisif asked, in the voice of a tired bureaucrat. She felt Lydia wince next to her. Tyre cursed quietly. The Sergeant looked pained, then drew his sword. “Kill the prisoners.” He said to his men. The justiciar made a low noise of agreement before lifting his hands. And Elisif felt an electric current run through her body. Her limbs locked up and she tasted iron and salt. As suddenly as it began, the sensation went away, Elisif dropped to the ground, vision going black for a moment. When she could see again, she watched as the Thalmor justiciar was sending lightning alternatively at Lydia and Tyre, who were making quick work of the foot soldiers, the sergeant the only one holding his own. His golden blade was gleaming in the light, but nicks were starting to appear in the edge of his blade, and the side of his cuirass was already slightly caved in. The justiciar seemed upset his lightning wasn’t working as he expected on the two Nords and turned towards the prisoners. The Bosmer had blood on her teeth, the Breton had her bonds wrapped around a guard’s neck. The Altmer had grabbed a dagger and was dashing about- stabbing the Sergeant in the side- finding holes in their armor. Elisif saw red. She was angry, and tired, and injustice was already seared into her bones. These were her citizens- not a one of them likely Talos worshippers. She got to her feet, shaky and miserable- and rammed into the Justiciar’s back, sending him flying. Using the move Bearclaw had used to drag her away from her husband’s corpse, she looped her arm around the mage’s neck, used her other hand to grab the wrist, and squeezed with all her might. Sparks flickered at his fingertips, little jumps that shocked Elisif. Then the hands beat frantically against the ground. Her prey’s legs kicked. Elisif pushed her knees into his back and tightened her grip. And an audible snap echoed through the air and down Elisif’s body. Oh. Oh. Elisif kept holding on until Tyre and Lydia were done, scared she was wrong- that this was just another trick of a mage. But the mage didn’t move, and the rest of the Thalmor died. Elisif stayed where she was as Lydia stood and wheezed and coughed and Tyre cut the bonds of the prisoners. It was a while until anyone noticed her. “Up you go-” Tyre stuttered a bit when he tried to think of what to call her. “lass.” His dagger was held confidently by his side. Elisif scrambled backward off of the mage. Tyre looked at the mage, then looked at her. He used his foot to roll the mage over. His head was at a strange angle. “What in the name of Talos,” Tyre said. “You disconnected his vertebrae. Lydia, come look at this.” Lydia walked over to Tyre and leaned over his shoulder. “He’s still alive?” Lydia asked. “Hell of a grip.” Tyre said. “Eyes are still moving. He probably won’t be able to breathe once his throat starts swelling.” Elisif shuddered. She remembered the feeling of not being able to breathe well, days after her husband’s death. It was miserable enough when she was able to claw at her own throat. “He’s a mage.” The Breton said. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve seen mages make hearts start beating after they’ve been shredded by sabre tooths. Kill him.” “I think there is something to be said for slow and painful deaths.” The Bosmer said as she checked over the Altmer, hands floating over the fine cheekbones and bruised eye. The Altmer, in turn, was running her hands up and down the Bosmer’s back. “Vicious. We’ve had a talk about your bloodthirsty habits.” The Altmer said. “Whatever the ‘lass’ wants. It’s her kill.” “She didn’t have to travel with the bastard for the past two days.” The Altmer shrugged. “I’ve had longer jail sentences and jailors I have hated much more.” Tyre turned to look at them. “You do realize they were going to kill you and dump your bodies in the swamp, right? You all were grabbed close, they didn’t strip you of your clothes. You’re not wealthy enough not to be missed, but I bet you have good weapons and fine jewelry.” The Altmer’s eyes slide towards the Breton. “Told you it wasn’t my fault. Like I said, they would have arrested us anyway.” The Breton sniffed, then let out a gasping sob. The Altmer looked horrified and sat down next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Kill him.” The Breton wailed. “I don’t want to even think-” Elisif grabbed Tyre’s dagger out of his hand and shoved it tip point into the mage’s eye. Then she pulled it out and shoved it into his other eye. Then she pulled out the dagger and ran it across his throat. “No, no.” Tyre said, coming around her back. He adjusted her grip and had her press deep into the skin. “You got to get to bleed him. Put more pressure on the blade- and follow through with the cut.” Tyre guided her hand, then had her practice an inch below the cut. She did it twice more before he was satisfied. “Good enough.” Tyre stood and stretched. “Let’s get a fire going.” The group stayed together for three days. They didn’t exchange names. The prisoners were heading to Rorikstead. Tyre, his housecarl, and his new apprentice were leaving Solitude. They would go to the place the prisoners were taken- and search for where the Altmer stashed some of their more important things- a quick action done when the Thalmor were first spotted. Tyre would get a flat sum to split among the three of them for his help. Then Tyre would take his party North to Dawnstar, as they lost too many supplies feeding three extra people, and the ex-prisoners would go South, to Rorikstead. The Altmer, who Tyre called ‘thief’, was willing to part with a few lockpicks for the woman who took out the justiciar. Sensing a kindred (if slightly young) spirit- she imparted all the wisdom and skill she could upon her (allowing for time restraints). The Bosmer tried to talk to Elisif several times but lost her courage and went to speak to Tyre about their mutual connections in Markarth. The Breton smith didn’t do much. She looked immensely uncomfortable. The thief kept looking back and forth between Elisif and the smith, eyes gleaming in the night. Eventually, the thief started herding the smith towards Elisif, then pushing the other members away. Elisif didn’t think anyone else saw what was going on- but she had been herded a few too many times to be comfortable. Finally tired of it, Elisif grabbed the Bosmer noble’s arm and pulled her aside while they walked down the trail. “What is going on?” Elisif whispered. The others in the group were polite enough to pretend not to hear. “Look, you know how your court mage sent me to Riften?” The Bosmer asked. “Well, my friends had to go to Riften for the same reason.” The noble looked at Elisif meaningfully. Elisif slowly nodded, hoping the elf would give more details. Instead, the Bosmer sighed in exasperation. “Did you notice how I look different from the last time you saw me?” Elisif felt a bit silly. She had noticed of course, but it seemed impolite to mention. “My friends also got the same treatment, we had it all done on the same day, but we are having trouble adjusting. All in different areas.” The Bosmer sighed. “Your friend, the one in the armor, seems to take care of the problem like my friend is currently- tightly wrapping chest down- but my friend has been through much in order to gain her breasts. She cannot leave them unbound as I can, or she begins to hurt.”Elisif blinked, then understood.“Is she hurting now?” Elisif asked, glancing back at the same time. The smith looked immensely uncomfortable- not quite sure what to do with her arms. Shaking her head she ran up to Tyre and pulled at his arm.Tyre jerked back, hand going to his sword. Lydia looked over her shoulder.“I need Lydia’s help for a minute.” Elisif said. “We need to take a break.”“We have a long way to go and limited supplies.” Tyre said harshly. Lydia gave a feeble, and fake, cough. Elisif tried not to laugh.“Fine.” Tyre gave a frustrated sigh and stormed off.“It’s the stress.” Lydia muttered, rolling her eyes. She bounced over to Elisif- but Elisif noticed the slight wheeze in her breath and the slight tinge of blue on her lips.Elisif walked over to the Breton woman. “Lydia, help me get my chest armor off. I need to switch-”“Ah!” Lydia nodded. “One second.” Lydia looked at the Breton woman up and down. “Tried doing a bandage binding, I bet- with your shape that must have been uncomfortable over a long walk.”The thief nodded vigorously. “We assumed we could just copy my binding.”Lydia shook her head. “Not for long journeys. My sister, bless her, starts hurting after a mile or two- but then again, she had just had a few children.“I was warned my chest would start to hurt.” The smith said “It’s just, I didn’t think my back would as well. My chest wasn’t flat to begin with. This isn’t unbound”Lydia looked confused, but Elisif moved in on that. “My brother was like that.” Elisif nodded. “I think it has to do with where the weight settles, chafing was similar, however.” Elisif noted. Lydia pulled off the fabric undergarment Elisif was wearing- it was basically a piece of armour with its thickness, but Elisif had found it preferable to anything that went over her shoulders.“Can you move in this thing?” Lydia asked.“Yes, much better than anything else.” Elisif replied primly. “This will help significantly with your back as well. Would you feel more comfortable taking off-”The Breton was already stripping off her shirt and then unwinding the thick linen from around her chest. “Will it fit?” Lydia asked warily.“This was made for when my shape was more changeable.” Elisif said. The woman looked unsure as Elisif deftly loosened the laces and loosened a drawstring around the top. The entire piece seemed to open, and Elisif shifted. “Lydia, can you pull this over my head?” Elisif asked.Lydia took the piece and tugged upwards.It was a glorious sensation when it came off. The fresh cold air on her chest. The sweat cooled rapidly.“Alright, you can put this on yourself, but it will take practice.”“She’ll have help.” The bosmer said, very simply.Elisif nodded, then went through the lacing and the placement of the piece- which to the naked eye looked just like a long piece of curved fabric.But the supports could stop a dagger, Elisif knew.The Breton showed Elisif how the fabric for her binding worked. Lydia made some remarks about how folding it one way would make the binding lay better- but the Altmer pulled out some rough cut rubies from her binding. Lydia took hers off and changed it to the way the thief had hers positioned.The Breton was in tears when the thing was properly laced. She went a few steps away and tried some arm movements, pulling her shoulders back and straighning her hips.“This is marvelous.” She said. “And I won’t fall out? I am not jiggling as much, but-”Elisif shook her head. “You tighten that thing correctly and tie the drawstring at the top- nothing is moving.”“Where dd you get this?” The noble asked.“High Rock originally.” Elisif rolled her shoulders, trying to get used to the new distribution of weight. “But the Radiant Raiment can make them.”“I can figure out how to make that as well.” The Bosmer nodded. The Altmer laughed. “And I can make some pockets, what are the supports made of?”Elisif shrugged. “I’m not sure.”“Ah well.” The Breton said. “What use is an invention without experimentation?” ----They split ways at Morthal, Tyre having used his time split away from the group to decide on a better path.(“He ran across some bandits with more coin in their pocket.” Lydia whispered into Elisif’s ear when all six of them bedded down for the night, just North of the bog. “He gets a discount in Dawnstar, but they don’t have as good of a selection as Morthal- which is closer in any case.” Lydia coughed quietly. “Not that there is going to be much he can do to fix this, and he knows it. This isn’t getting better. We were heading to Winterhold to see if they learned anything since the last time, but my Thane will try and get me to spend some time at the Temple of Kynerath.“Nothing helps?” Elisif asked.“In the beginning it would help for a few months.” Lydia admitted. “And the symptoms aren’t consistent anyway, but we are down to days now.”“Why is he still dragging you along on his jobs?” Elisif asked, horrified.“Told him I wasn’t going to let him go without me. That I was going to follow him if he left me, and did he really want me wandering about on my own?” Lydia went quiet. “I don’t want to die in a bed. I’d rather be killed fighting than waste away slowly.” Lydia’s voice turned defensive. “He’s my best friend, so I am not going to try and die when I can help him. I am not suicidal-”Elisif turned over on her back, feeling the stones press against her spine. “You’re just preparing.”“Yeah.” Lydia said.Elisif nodded into the darkness and reached for Lydia’s hand. Lydia took it and squeezed it gently.)In Morthal, after an extremely vicious talk with the town guard’s quartermaster and a slightly pleasanter talk with the town herbalist, Tyre and Elisif settled down in an inn room while Lydia went to drink with some of the townspeople.“We’ll show you how to gather alchemy ingredients.” Tyre said as he repaired some of the leather straps on his armor. “You can make some good coin. An alchemist has a hard job, bending over the tables all day, keeping the store stocked is an endless job.” Elisif, whose legs still hurt from the lesson in moving silently- and whose head hurt from attempting to learn the muffle spell, glared at him.“Why?” Elisif asked. “Why teach me these things? Once we get to Whiterun, and I tell Balgruuf what happened-”“You’ll be trading one master for another.” Tyre said. “Might be better than Falk and the General, but Balgruuf isn’t going to ride up with his guard and free Solitude- not leaving Dragonsreach open to Ulfric.”Elisif hadn’t considered that. She had the faintest stirrings of hope when she learned they were going to Whiterun. Balgruuf may have the power to negotiate with the Empire- and Elisif would be willing to support his claim. Tyre might be willing to follow Balgruuf- the man owed Whiterun quite a bit, as he was unwilling to follow Tullius.“Balgruuf hates Ulfric- and Balgruuf may be good to the people who work for him, but he is a stubborn fool. He lost his mistress because of Ulfric’s meddling- leaving his youngest without a mother. Even if that hadn’t happened, Balgruuf’s personality clashes too much with Ulfric’s. He will not accept Ulfric as king.”Tyre cursed as a strap snaps in his hand.“But Balgruuf also knows what you seemed to have missed, that the Empire is- by nature- lazy. They won’t negotiate if they can just take. They won’t respect a reigning monarch if they can make themselves the monarch.”“They won’t sort through prisoners if they can just kill everyone.” Elisif said, slowly.Tyre nodded, scratching his beard for a moment. “From best I can guess, Nords make up a good deal of the Imperial Army. That’s the only reason they didn’t just batter down Skyrim’s door and take over. It’s a lot harder to rule a population that knows its being occupied.”“No, they backed me- they aren’t occupying-” Elisif felt her cheeks flush hotly, slowly understanding what Tyre was implying. It was true they didn’t respect Elisif as a leader (they might be right not too) and they shouldn’t respect Tullius, but someone else might be able to keep the connection.“That’s the part I couldn’t figure out, until our last little foray into the Solitude jails.” Tyre took out some sewing needles. “Your citizens are loyal to you, the Haafinger guards do about as well as any other guard. The hold runs well enough (though your bandits are a step above anything I’ve seen). I get why Solitude would back the Empire- but I couldn’t figure out why the Empire would back a twenty-something widow as High Queen.”Elisif felt her head start to pound. “Because it is mine by right.”Tyre shook his head. “The hold didn’t even vote for you, did it? Though with how calmly everything went, I assume you were the popular choice anyway. Did you send word to the Empire when your husband died?”“No, I was in mourning- Falk did.” Elisif stuttered.“Exactly.” Tyre said. “Falk did. And the job I received for Potema, that was Falk as well- but only after he publicly corrected your orders. In fact, now that I think back on it, I don’t recall a single order or decree that got past Falk’s wall of correction. Your husband was young as well, wasn’t he? Did he have a better relationship with Falk?”“Worse.” Elisif felt her lips go numb. “The only thing Torygg ever did for himself was answer Ulfric’s challenge.” Elisif was never really sure if Torygg had chosen her, to think about it. He was Elisif’s best friend, but was she his? Elisif desperately hoped so, that she was something of a good thing in the miserable life they had together.Tyre hummed. “Elisif, I know this is a difficult question, but did you ever agree to be Jarl?”Elisif was about to answer angrily, to walk out of the inn, when she considered it- really considered it. When Torygg died, she hadn’t really been thinking of what came after. She remembered half-remembered thoughts of her room in Dragon’s Bridge- thinking she could go home. But her home wasn’t there anymore.“I can’t see the future.” Tyre said, when she didn’t answer. “I certainly didn’t expect to see myself here. Never expected to live long enough for my hair to go grey. You might go back and be High Queen, you might be Jarl.”Tyre gave her a small half-grin. “Or you might go on to be happy- marry someone else, pick up a trade. I am teaching you this stuff so that you don’t have to be scared of being poor or being alone. If it helps, I had to teach Lydia a lot of this stuff, too. You were the first person to stand before the Empire and demand I be repaid- even though you had nothing to gain from it. I’ll give you whatever skills I can- you certainly need them. “Elisif felt her face turn red and tears come to her eyes, took off her boots, then took the bed- facing away from Tyre.She was so embarrassed she didn’t even notice when she fell asleep.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
They spent many weeks in Morthal, and Tyre bore Elisif’s arguments and frustrations with more and more irritation. Elisif tried every political argument she was taught, only to have them brushed away by Lydia and Tyre. Each time she felt more and more foolish and grew more and more enraged. A certain part of her- the part that had been stuck in Falk’s lessons, the part that had sensed injustice and was brushed aside- was vindicated. Yes, this was wrong. Falk was wrong, and if he was wrong about these things- then he could be wrong about others. But what kind of High Queen, what kind of Jarl, what kind of person was she- that she let Falk do the things he did. She grew angrier and her voice grew louder. When Elisif tried to continue over Lydia’s coughing fits, however- Tyre lost his temper. “Go take a walk, you unreasonable shrew, before I shout you out into the swamp and leave you there.” Elisif uttered a short scream and stomped out of the inn, blushing fiercely at the eyes following her. She walked North, past the Mill- though she could hear something coming from the cabin that almost made her go back. She wandered, looking about at the hazy fog. The damp air was doing nothing for her breathing. Her boots were slowly growing muddier. When she accidentally tripped over a mudcrab, Elisif thought her life might be over. One of the large claws grabbed her by the ankle, tugging her leg out from under her. The crab started walking on top of her, and Elisif tried to crawl away, but her ankle gave out on her. “You don’t eat Nords! Why in the world?” Elisif turned over on her back, trying to get leverage to place her good foot on the mudcrab and push it away. The mudcrab took no notice of her kicking foot on his hard outer shell, tilting its body over the limb, and continued to crawl over her. Elisif screamed, but the sound echoed over the bog. No one came. The crab went for her throat. Elisif was wearing soaked leather gloves and put her hands between the claws before they snapped closed, pulling with all her might. It wasn’t enough. The claws kept closing in. The other claw was snapping on the other side, close to her eyes, snapping at her hair. Elisif felt panicked, and energy flowed through her. She used the last of her strength to pry the claw open. The claw didn’t move. Elisif started crying and screaming, legs kicking as she tried to get out from under the claw. The claw she wasn’t holding scratched the side of her face. Then a red mist drained the crab, and it flew off her. Elisif took some deep gulping breaths then looked to where the red light had come from. Standing in the fog was a Kajhit with strange eyes. Elisif had never actually met a Kajhit before, she had seen them from afar, so maybe the eyes were just like that. This Kajhit tilted their head at her, then their tail lashed from side to side. “Hello.” Elisif tried to force the word out of her throat, but it continued to get caught. The Kajhit walked towards Elisif slowly. “Hello.” The Kajhit’s voice came out as a soft sort of grumble. “I am called S’aji. It is all right now.” The Kajhit said slowly, arms up like one would gentle a horse. “Thank you.” Elisif was able to force out. She tried to get up, but her ankle was mangled, blood coming out of it- showing white bone.” “This, this is unnecessary. Do not move.” The Kajhit slid their hands under Elisif, picking her up with ease. “Where are you from?” “Dragon’s Bridge.” Elisif said. “I can not take you to Dragon’s Bridge.” The Kajhit let out a grumble. “It would take far too long. How did you get to the swamp from Dragon’s Bridge?” “I am staying in Morthal with,” Elisif hesitated. “My master and his housecarl.” Elisif watched the fur on the back of the Kahjit’s neck stand up. The Kajhit clucked her tongue. “There is no slavery in Skyrim, at least not for your kind. Are you an apprentice?” The Kajhit came to a path, looking one way- then another. The Kajhit stood there for a long moment- then looked at Elisif. “Why were you in the swamp?” The Kajhit did not move for a moment. “You are a very beautiful girl. Did he or his housecarl attempt-” “No.” Elisif said honestly. She wasn’t sure if Tyre liked women. Elisif knew he liked Lydia, but she had never gotten the feeling- Well, it was none of her business. She did know, sexual or not, Lydia was the most important person in the Dragonborn’s world. The Kajhit started walking south, seeming unburdened by Elisif’s weight. “Then why were you walking out in the swamp?” The Kajhit asked mildly. “You cannot defeat a mudcrab, you have no weapons.” “You don’t have any weapons.” Elisif pointed out. “I have my magic,” S’aji said. “I can move quietly in the swamp. There is no creature, besides dragons, that is faster than S’aji.” Elisif had heard the Kajhit would sometimes speak in third person, but she had never actually understood how it worked into a sentence. It seemed very natural, the way the bard’s would turn a phrase that made it fit a song, but would sound clunky is you read it in a book. “What spell did you use on the crab?” Elisif asked. She looked down at her ankle. It still looked disastrous- but it felt numb and tingly. “One I just learned myself. S’aji can’t teach it.” “S’aji?” Elisif asked. “Yes?” “Why can’t I feel my leg?” “Magic, little Nord. If you could feel your leg you would be in agony. You would twist about- losing more blood and I could not hold you. As is, this will let S’aji get you to Falion’s house.” “Who is Falion?” Elisif felt a bit sleepy and the air was very warm. She didn’t hear the answer. She woke up in a small cabin, foot elevated on the bench. The slow mumbling of conversation washing over her. “I was hoping not to bring myself to his attention.” A male voice said, very low. “Its bad enough the town’s talking about me, he isn’t known to be discriminating about his contracts.” “So here is your good deed- to prove you have more worth to him than a few coins in his pocket.” S’aji’s voice came from above her, and Elisif opened her eyes. Her cheek hurt. “Good morning. You have slept for a while.” Saji scratched Elisif’s head gently with her claws. Elisif pushed into the pressure. She was much sorer than she had ever been, but S’aji was warm and there were cool, gentle hands adjusting her ankle. She felt oddly at peace. Perhaps it was because there was nowhere else to go, nothing else to do- no spy a second away from running o tell Falk about her indiscretions. “You probably needed it.” The voice at her feet said. “Agni, will you get me that healing potion.” The man twisting her ankle was pushing bones back into place. Elisif could hear the clicking of the pieces as they were held aloft. She wasn’t bothered by it. “You’re under a calming spell.” A little girl explained, handing S’aji a small pink bottle. “It regulates your heartbeat and keeps you from registering pain. I’m learning it right now, but I still need to build up my magicka stores.” Elisif nodded. That made sense. “Why not just do a healing spell?” Elisif’s tongue was heavy in her mouth. “We did for the wound on your cheek.” The wizard said. “We couldn’t devote a lot of magic to it, not when you were about to go into shock, so it has scarred.” Elisif touched her cheek, then held her breath- letting her cheeks swell up. There was a slight tug, but Elisif had a feeling she would be able to ignore it once she got used to it. “The ankle is a different matter. You shattered some toes, then several of the bones in the ankle splintered. I am trying to put them back together, but I can’t regrow some cartilage until its done. This is going to take a while to heal.” The wizard snorted through his nose. “What did you do?” “Mudcrab got ahold of her,” S’aji said dryly. “A mudcrab?” Falion squawked. “Did you offer yourself on a platter for it?” “I’ve killed a lot of mudcrabs with my dagger, looking for nirnroot,” Agni told her. The girl grabbed her hand and looked at the long lines on both her palms. “You tried to hold the claw open, That’s the worse thing to do.” The girl shook her head at Elisif. Elisif felt like the calming spell was the only reason she had not stuck her foot in her mouth out of embarrassment and anger.” “Why don’t you tell me how to do it?” Elisif said, somewhat lazily. She laid down and listened to the explanation. She was happy. Tyre eventually came to get her. He cursed up a storm as Lydia patted her down to see if everything was fine. There was a great deal of shouting about vampires- “Tyre, she’s not responding.” Lydia shook her. “I’m fine.” Elisif smiled. “There was a spell, one for my ankle. S’aji has been helping me.” Elisif nodded to her new friend. Tyre stopped his shouting at the wizard for a moment. “S’aji? From the farm near Mor Khazgur? What are you doing here?” Her new friend was darting her eyes everywhere but Tyre. Elisif patted her hand. “She saved me from the mudcrab.” Elisif told Tyre. He had very interesting brown eyes. “Did she now?” Tyre asked seeming calmer. He came to crouch next to Elisif. He held up two fingers. “How many fingers am I holding up.” “Two.” He held up seven fingers. “How about now?” “Now you are holding up seven.” “Can you tell me who the current Emperor is?” Elisif nodded. “Titus Mead II.” “Good, good.” He looked up at S’aji. “Your calming spells are magnificent as always. Why are you in Morthal?” S’aji finally looked up, her entire body still. Tyre let out a gusty breath and then fell on his rear. “By choice?” Tyre asked. “It makes no difference.” S’aji flicked her tail, but her fur seemed to become less poofy. “I guess not, results in the same. You aren’t the first person who has become a vampire unexpectedly, though. Argonian by the name of Bun-Ra settled down in Dushnikh Yal and was courting Ghorbash the Iron-Hand. There was a raid on the fortress, and suddenly Bun-Ra couldn’t be found. I helped Ghorbash track him to Karthspire before we found out he had been turned. “ “Did you kill him?” S’aji asked, like this was a perfectly normal thing you did to people. “He asked me to kill him.” Tyre sighed, then pulled his knees up to his chest. “Didn’t do it. Ghorbash wouldn’t have let me in any case. Gharol was turned as well. Ghorbash was able to convince him to come back to the Reach. There have been other reports, and they are slowly getting more widespread. They seem to be creating a wide berth around Solitude and Falkreath, however. Rescued a Nord from Riverwood once, but they were on their way to Solitude at the time, and the court mage there is good with helping new vampires adjust.” “There is talk of getting the Dawnguard back together in Riften.” Lydia said. “But the lair we just cleaned out wasn’t big enough for attacks that large.” “You cleaned out the cave?” S’aji’s tail twitched. “We thought, from the trail of blood, Elisif may have been dragged there. Uncovered a conspiracy, or as much as there can ever be a conspiracy, here in Morthal. Were you with them?” Tyre asked, suddenly grim. “We found-” “S’aji knows what you found.” The Kajhit hissed. “I was not with them by choice. They were the closest clan to Morthal.” “Why did you need to be near Morthal?” Tyre asked. “That would be my fault.” Falion said, sharply. He was back at poking at Elisif’s ankle. “I discovered what I think is a ritual to cure vampirism.” “Useful.” Tyre murmured. “What’s involved?” S’aji exchanged looks with Falion. “A filled black soul gem.” “Ah, I can see why you are in Morthal.” “Yes, well, discretion. No one comes to Morthal- except for the people looking for me. That and the damn College of Winterhold.” “The Archmage trying to recruit you?” Tyre seemed overly interested in this. “No, but she has sent me some notes and asked me to look over them. It’s the bones of a decent theory- and I am impressed with her knowledge of necromancy, but – look I’m not discussing magical theory with you. I’m not interested in joining the College of Winterhold. I don’t want to be found and small town infamy is better than the outright hatred I’ll get anywhere else.“ “Surely you need funding? Lydia, if you can not keep your opinions to yourself, feel free to go get a drink.” “I’m not leaving her to these people.” Lydia said loyally. “I will say this is highly illegal. You just became a Thane of this hold and the first thing you do is start running around with necromancers and vampires.” The atmosphere in the cabin turned weary and spiteful. Elisif didn’t particularly want to deal with this issue. (Lydia was right, this all was highly illegal, Elisif should report them- go get the guard. If they were discussing black soul gems, Elisif was sure they were discussing murder as well.) But the calming spell, plus the last several days of being angry, made her think it might be better just to go to sleep. And so Elisif slept. She woke up in a room she didn’t recognize, her ankle wrapped in a bandage. Lydia was sleeping by her side, small coughs raking her frame as her body attempted to snore. She was stripped down to a thin shift, with wide swathes of her skin rubbed with a thick glue-like substance. She felt her head move slightly and she realized she was resting on someone’s stomach.Tyre looked down at her, eyes red with lack of sleep. His own cheeks were pale.“Caught some diseases on the last cave crawl. We are renting from Lami above the Alchemist shop. Falion should be by to heal your ankle some more in a few hours. Give me a few minutes and I’ll get you to a chamber pot.”Now that Elisif noticed, it became unbearable. It barely drowned out the hunger.“My Thane.” A voice came from the other side of the room. A Nord man with an impressive mustache was sitting in a chair. “You can not stand. Allow me.”Tyre sighed. “This is my new housecarl, Valdimar. He’s been our nursemaid for the past three days.”“Three days?” Elisif croaked. “Aye.” Tyre laid back down on the furs, causing Elisif’s head to bounce on his stomach. “You needed to be asleep for the last bit of healing. Valdimar is a great hand with restoration spells, but healing with spells can still hurt.”“You honor me, my Thane.” Valdimar came over and knelt by Elisif. He put an arm behind her head, and one under her knees. He stood gently, cradling Elisif. Elisif felt sick and needed to relieve herself, but at the same time- she felt like she was in the hands of a competent healer, like her brother was before the war, cradling her body to bring her to bed- away from where she and the other kids would sit and listen to the river beneath the bridge. She was in her own shift, breast binding loose but not removed. Her feet were covered in thick woolen socks. The chest under her head was warm. She was helped with her business, cleaned with a warm cloth- and brought back to Tyre. She laid down on his stomach again. His own shirt was slightly damp from sweat, the cabin filled with smell of Cure Disease potion. She fell back asleep quickly.In her dreams, she saw Falk poking holes in the Solitude arch, Solitude’s citizens were walking behind him- pouring seeds in the holes. Elisif knew the holes should have soil underneath- and the seeds would bloom, and something should come out.When Elisif looked at the holes, however, she only saw the empty holes, beneath was empty skies. She knew she had to fill the holes. She looked around and round- her citizens walking by her when she was grabbed by the arm. Bolgier Bearclaw grabbed her arm and pulled her towards Falk.“I serve Solitude.” Falk said, his eyes empty. “Look at my work.” Elisif watched as seed poured down the hole. Elisif desperately tried to yell for the Falk to stop. They needed to seed- they could not use it to fill the holes. It would never be enough. Torygg came to stand by her, looking at her with dead eyes.“I will feed the hole.” Torygg said. He walked towards Falk, laying down below the pouring seed. Ulfric’s voice came on the wind though, and Torygg’s body turned to water, flowing down the holes. Elisif didn’t scream, but she did let out a low wail as Falk continued to pour seed down the holes. Suddenly furious, she reached forward. In the way of dreams, she was suddenly as close to Falk as she needed to be. She opened her mouth and out came-
“Then pay your debt, son of Solitude. Your reward has been long and paid.”
Elisif took Falk’s skull, body collapsing as she removed the bone. She broke the skull in many pieces and laid each of the pieces over the holes in the arch. It was not enough. A line of people appeared, race and age and gender different. She took their bodies apart, taking a bone from each- shoving the pieces into holes- but taking nothing from her own citizens.When each hole had been covered, the sun went out. Elisif turned to see a beautiful woman, hair long and braided. She was surrounded by the corpses of dead children. Each had a knife wound or a broken neck. Some of the children were covered in burns.“Go my children.” The woman said in Elisif’s voice. Each of the children ran to Elisif- their wounds disappearing as they touched her. Each touch revived Elisif, and when she looked up to the shadow covering the sun she saw a dragon.The woman with her voice said- “Is this enough?” “For this age.” Alduin, for Elisif knew in her soul this was Alduin, rumbled. “I will allow you to have your children. But what Sithis has given you, Anu will always take away.”Then Alduin looked at Elisif- and she felt strong for the first time, staring into his red eyes.“I take you as the sacrifice- given to me freely. When the Dragonborn ends this age, I will come to you and your line. Speak of this, and it will be forgotten- avoid it, and it will be forced. Until and after this time comes, your Father will not ask for you.” Akatosh let out a rumbling laugh. “But there are many things that can make living uncomfortable- I would not tempt fate.” Then fire came from the sky and Elisif was consumed.A great emptiness came over her and when she woke- it did not go away. --- Elisif did not think much of her time in Morthal, in the way she did not think much of her time in Falk’s classroom. It was a much-needed time of learning- but otherwise a combination of boring and torturous. Tyre, sweaty and miserable, made her go out onto a fishing pier with him once her ankle wouldn’t break when she walked on it. It still hurt though. Lydia and Vladimar had spent two hours cutting and fixing her hair- the mudcrab having destroyed quite a bit of it- vomit and mud tangling the rest to be unsalvagable. Lydia had said it would be best to shave the whole thing off- but Vladimar had pointed out trying to learn how to tie your hair out of the way when it is growing out is an extra burden.“If you want hair in the wilderness, you can not leave it loose.” Vladimar explained. “Nor can you have it held back in a way that catches dirt and bugs. It needs to be tight enough to wash out without coming loose.”“It’s the sides that will cause the most problems.” Lydia said, a finality in her voice. Vladimar looked at Elisif- then looked at Lydia- and nodded.Elisif didn’t protest as the sides of her head were shaved, but she did cry. Lydia helped her wash what was left- rubbing it with soaps, oil, and what smelled like a stamina potion. Lydia combed it out with her fingers, not pulling exactly, but it wasn’t gentle either. When it came to deciding how to fix her hair, Lydia did rough sketches. Elisif, however, knew enough of court hairstyles to know how she wanted to style it.Using a small piece of hair in the front, she made a small braid, which she wove into a longer fishtail braid. She had lost too much hair for there to be a tail, so the braid ended at the base of her skull.“Should get some tattoos.” Tyre said, smiling. “You look fierce.”Lydia did a rough sketch of her and Vladimar let her see her reflection in his shield. It was not common for Jarls to have any part of their heads shaved- outside of the men who were balding, and therefor shaved it all off. No one would look at Elisif and see the woman who was called “The Fair”. She looked like a bandit, maybe a smith at best. The scar on her cheek tugged at her mouth, giving her a slight smirk.Elisif walked out the pier with no fear anyone would recognize her as a Jarl. It gave her a bit more confidence as Tyre knocked her down again and again. She wore her full set of armor, fur drenched and boots sodden. Tyre made her climb up the pier by herself- not offering a hand up. It was exhausting. Then Tyre would tell her to get in position- and knock her off again. At the end of the day, she had to climb wooden stairs above the alchemist’s shop. She had to strip off her armor in front of the housecarls and clean it- setting it by the fire to dry- rubbing potions on it that absorbed water. She would sit in her breastband and her loincloth, waiting for the amour to dry. Tyre would make her put the armor back on- and only then was she allowed to go to sleep. Elisif was too uncomfortable to dream.This continued for many days, until Tyre decided Elisif was ready to take on more lessons. Vladimar made Elisif learn to expend magicka- saying she was too weak for an actual spell. He would make her expend magicka until she lost it- then had her do so again. She did so until she passed out in front of the fire. Tyre would throw a bucket of water over her head and then Elisif would start again- and must clean off her armor again.Around this time, Lydia started teaching Elisif to use a dagger on the pier. The first time Elisif lost it- Lydia shrugged. She told Elisif not to come back to the alchemist shop without a dagger- and Lydia went to the inn to drink with Lurbuk. Elisif searched for the dagger for hours, until one of the kids came over and asked what she was doing. One of the brawnier kids pulled out a dagger. It was much nicer than Elisif’s.“Something like this?” The kid said.Elisif nodded, arms exhausted. She had been in Morthal for two months and had not gotten a decent night’s sleep after her ankle recovered. She had been swimming for hours.The kid nodded. “My name is Virkmound. I like at the lumbermill with my da.” The kid pointed at the mill across the town- the sound of water splashing and the wheel turning audible even from such a distance.“I’ve got to finish chopping a pile of wood before sundown, or my father will make me strip the logs for the next month.” The kid shuddered. Elisif didn’t know what that meant, but she nodded anyway. “I get paid enough to get myself another dagger, so if you decided to help me chop the wood before sunset- I would be willing to give you this dagger.”Elisif had an odd feeling she was being scammed- but if she hadn’t found the dagger by now, she probably wasn’t going to. She was also tired and angry about being in the muck. She wouldn’t get much sleep tonight- just like she didn’t get enough sleep every night. She agreed and walked- sodden with muck and cold water down to the mill. The boy handed her an ax and then demonstrated how to cut the wood. Elisif tried several times, failed- and then got the hang of it. They worked long after sundown, until Virkmound shoved the dagger in her hand and pushed her down the path.Fortunately for Elisif, is not for Virkmound, Virkmound’s father found him first. Thonnir asked what was going on- and Elisif saw no reason to lie- despite Vickmound’s hasty and frantic hand motions behind his father.Thonnir sighed when he heard the explanation.“I’ll escort you to your master. Your name is El, right?” Thonnir nodded without listening to Elisif’s answer. “Why don’t you lead me to where he is?” Elisif took them to the second floor and was greeted by Tyre laying curled up in Vladimar’s arms- fast asleep. Vladimar picked up the Dragonborn and placed him on the floor beside him without a struggle.“What is it, Thonnir?”“I need to speak to the Thane, if you don’t mind.”Vladimar opened his mouth to answer- but Tyre rolled to his feet and walked over, eyes still gritty from sleep.“Aye, what is it- El where is Lydia?”“She’s at the inn, I think.” Elisif answered, only to see Tyre roll his eyes.“What did she set you to doing?” Tyre asked, sounding tired.“I dropped my dagger in the-”“And she told you not to come back without a weapon.” Tyre nodded. “So why are you here without a weapon.”“My boy took it upon himself,” Thonnir glared at his boy. “To offer a dagger in exchange for work.”“Well enough.” Tyre said slowly. “I have no problem with her doing the work.”“Aye, yes- I would hope not. My boy and her split this year’s seasoned wood. “Tyre blinked. “This- year’s”“Aye- I have no idea how they did it. I haven’t been gone that long.”“Did they stack it?” Tyre asked.“No, which is part of the problem. I have the boy do it in sections, so I can make sure it is stacked and stored properly before bed. The other problem is I can’t pay the girl in one measly dagger- even if it was the best deal the boy has ever made.”“You could- would teach her right.” Tyre glanced at Elisif, who was feeling her muscles go a bit wobbly. “But I appreciate the fact you aren’t going to.”“There are two piles, I am assuming one is her pile and one is the boy’s pile. I need to know how much wood there is- and I need the wood to be stacked before the next rain.”“Which is tomorrow.” Tyre said.“I don’t think we have that long, honestly.”“Start her on her pile and counting and me and my housecarls will be down to help in a moment. ““I do appreciate it.”Tyre waved him away.Elisif, who was feeling slightly dizzy, followed Tyre’s beckoning out the door and down the stairs- back to the mill. The sky was dark by then. The only light was coming from the glow of the fog. She watched as Thronnir showed her how to stack the wood- and what counted as a piece- reminding her to count them. Elisif nodded along, but lost track of counting several times. Her eyes were growing heavy and the fog made it hard to take deep breaths. She just wanted to lay down.Then Virkmound gave a high-pitched scream- a mudcrab had crawled up the bank- pinchers snapping. Elisif didn’t know what to do- fear had overwhelmed her mind. Yet, her body knew what to do. She moved quickly behind the mudcrab, flipping the thing on its back. As it tried to flip itself back over, Elisif slammed her foot into its underside- again and again- until she heard a loud shriek. Her legs had walked for miles, had propelled her through water wearing armor and had pushed her through Tyre’s positionings. They went right through the mudcrab’s soft underbelly.Elisif continued to stomp until she was pulled back. She swung an elbow, but it was caught by Tyre. Elisif could smell Lydia behind her.“Its dead, Elisif.” Tyre laughed at her. “Good job, its dead.”“Oh? Good.” Elisif nodded to herself. Then she walked back to stacking her wood. ---Training went a lot faster after Elisif killed the mudcrab- though part of her training seemed to be preparing the animal she had just killed for eating. She was made to run through the marsh and taught to swing a sword. At the end of it, once Tyre stopped sweating like a pig and Lydia had regained enough stamina to walk long distances again- all four of them set out from Morthal to Whiterun.Elisif wasn’t sure she wanted to leave Morthal, but unlike Solitude- Elisif didn’t particularly fear stepping out on the road again. Tyre watched her and shook his head at her when he saw her. He seemed even more disapproving than before she had the skills.Elisif asked Lydia about it one night before they left.“You’re overconfident.” Lydia said. “You have all these new skills, but none of the instincts. It shows in how you approach problems. A lot of Companion whelps have that problem. Athis’s predecessor, Koldak, used to send groups of new whelps to giant camps. It would scare them straight or they would die. It kept them from getting any of the real Companions killed.”“I know I will have to get better.” Elisif said, exasperated. “I don’t know of anyway to speed that up.”Lydia opened her mouth to reply, but then snapped it shut and shrugged. “You’ll either get it or you won’t- me explaining it isn’t going to help you understand.”Elisif didn’t want to disappoint Tyre. She didn’t like Lydia acting like she was some idiot- but she hated feeling like Tyre saw her as a burden- even when she had worked so hard not to be one.When they set out on the path, Tyre had her walking between him and Lydia, Vladimar bringing up the rear.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Elisif didn’t understand a lot of the discussions Tyre had with Lydia and Vladimar about their route- but she got the general understanding the longer way would be going up to Dawnstar, then south through the Red Road pass. It was longer, but most trading caravans and travellers took it- making it likely they were going to be seen by someone who knew Elisif. Elisif was learning more about the terrain of Skyrim and the movement of her people in the wilderness than she ever had sitting at a desk with Falk teaching her. She wasn’t sure Falk would have been able to get her this information. Red Road Pass gave them plenty of places to camp. The road was well-worn, making for an easier journey. Tyre had looked at Elisif when that was brought up but Lydia had smacked him on the arm, saying, “My Thane, she stomped a mud crab to death, her legs are fine.” With that in mind, Tyre ended up taking the road through Labyrinthian. The old trading post had been haunted for years, enough so that when the Archmage of Winterhold had offered to buy the land, Falk hadn’t hesitated in letting Elisif handle the matter. It didn’t help that Elisif could read the script the Archmage had used to write the request. Falk had thought it odd, and was too busy handling the rest of the hold to sit down and translate it. Elisif had found the matter odd, but the price sound. She had consulted Legate Rikke on it. They both poured over reports in Castle Dour. The land was haunted and covered in creatures an adventurer might have problems defeating. The conclusion Elisif had come up with was that there was some sort of power in the place- and if the College of Winterhold felt confident in neutralizing the danger- and paying two-thirds the going rate for a city-sized settlement- Elisif would be happy to write and sign the deed. The messenger from the college took the terms back to the Archmage (though he did not hesitate to roll his eyes). Two weeks later, a different mage returned. He was a Khajiit, who stood tall and proud- escorted between two guards. Elisif was not allowed to greet him, as he was a Khajiit, but she had watched from the balcony as he was brought in and pressed her ear to the door to hear his reply. Falk gave him the prewritten deed and was given forty-thousand gold as the first payment through some conjuration trick. The Khajiit, whom Elisif learned was named J’zargo, also gave a mask to Falk, as a sign Labyrinthian would trouble Skyrim no more than anything else. The mask had felt powerful when Elisif saw it later, tossed on Falk’s desk. She had picked it up and examined it, feeling the smooth edges. “A dragon priest mask, High Queen.” Her court mage looked only barely interested in the thing. Elisif had brought it to her too ask its significance (sneaking behind Falk’s back). “It increases the regeneration of Magicka. I have several robes and necklaces that do the same thing. It is a trifling gift- probably taken off the corpse of some Draugr.” Elisif had looked at the mask- had traced the contours of the wood, and rather doubted anything as old as the mask was trifling. Elisif remembered her history enough to know the Dragon Priests had once ruled Skyrim. If the mask was a symbol of office, and it had to be, Elisif had gone down to the tombs of Potema and saw nothing like it- though she had seen many crowns and beautiful works. Elisif had received a great honour from the Archmage of Winterhold. This monster had been killing and frightening people off Labyrinthian for years, and the Archmage had essentially sent Elisif its crowning glory. Elisif had written back to the Archmage, in the same script the Archmage had written, and thanked her for the gift. She wished the Archmage the best of luck in rebuilding her college and the rebuilding of Labyrinthian. Elisif asked for news on the area from Falk and Aldis, but rarely got information in return. The Archmage would not allow soldiers to use the road to Whiterun. The only information Elisif received was a description of the walls and the colours of magic coming up in the sky above it. Elisif felt oddly giddy to see the place. “The college has set up an inn with the help of Wujetta.” Tyre had said. “They still have problems with Frost Trolls. I had heard there was a dragon nesting nearby. I might as well stop and take care of the thing on the way. If we run into Collete or one of her students, even better. Can your lungs take the cold?” Tyre looked at Lydia. “I can’t go with you to take the dragon, likely,” Lydia said. “But just going to Labyrinthian should be fine- and you will have your new housecarl.” Lydia bumped shoulders with Vladimar, who blushed. “Fair enough.” Tyre nodded decisively, before he grinned and winked at Vladimar. “Can I go with you to slay the dragon?” Elisif asked. There was an image of a dragon in her mind that would light up her senses at odd moments. She was eager to see if her imagination was as bright as the real thing- bright wings covered in darkness. “My friend.” Tyre laid two gloved hands on her shoulders. He bent slightly to look her straight in the eye. “I appreciate your courage, but the best thing you can do for me when you see a dragon for the first time is to run for cover.” “You think I would be cowardly enough to run away-” “I was- ran as fast as I could.” Tyre took her by the shoulders. “Second time- I was with over thirty soldiers from Whiterun. “Tyre shook her slightly. “I don’t take dragons lightly. If you see a dragon, run for cover. They don’t need to eat; they do not need water. They kill and destroy because they have no greater wish- and they are very, very good at it.” Tyre shook his head and started walking. His feet were heavy on the ground. “Surely they were not created to destroy.” Elisif jogged to catch up with him. “They are beautiful creatures- Akatosh is represented as a dragon.” “Seen one, have you?” Tyre shrugged, his armor making a faint clanking noise. “They are very beautiful, some of them. I don’t look at them and wish to see them again. Most beautiful things, you want to look at them. I don’t generally look at a painting and think- that looks beautiful; let me burn it. Dragons…” Tyre trailed off, stepping around a hole in the road, which Elisif tripped over. “I see a dragon these days, and all I feel is rage. I have the burning desire to tear apart their bones until they are nothing. They were originally made to guard time itself; I think. They were to protect the movement of the world. They chose to destroy what they were supposed to guard.” Tyre flexed his hand. “Given all that power, the only thing they want to do is dominate- and they see no way to do that without destroying the thing they have till it is ash. What use is there in ruling ash?” Tyre snarled to himself, and the world seemed to shudder around them. “You said some of them are beautiful.” Elisif said. “I’ve seen two beautiful dragons.” Tyre replied. “Alduin and Paarthunax- not sure I could tell you why they are different. It’s enough to say they are.” --- It was a good thing Tyre told her to run from dragons. Frost Trolls were so far above her skill level, Elisif was ashamed. Tyre had them crawling past the entrance of Labyrinthian, with Lydia climbing to the top of the wall to check from above. An unfortunately timed coughing fit brought two of the ice trolls to their party. One, on the wall, went for Lydia- who was struggling to stand up straight. The other, who had been some two hundred yards away, started running towards Elisif. Tyre used his voice to shout the ice troll heading towards Lydia off the wall. Elisif saw the Ice Troll fall- and was thus unprepared to be swiped aside by another’s limb. Elisif fell, wounded to the side. Vladimar took her place, wielding a mace. He dodged one of the swipes and landed a hit on the Frost Troll’s leg- leaving it angrier. Tyre ran over to the troll. “El, get back.” The Dragonborn smashed the troll in the head with his sword. Elisif crawled back on her hands, now bleeding profusely. She didn’t notice the troll that had fallen from the wall running up to help his brother. The second frost troll didn’t notice Elisif at first- or did not consider her a threat. He did not even look at her as he ran past- straight towards Tyre. Elisif, who had lost her sword, pulled her dagger from her boot. She felt particularly attached to the dagger she had spent all day earning. She had held it and played with it during her meals. Falion, when he had visited, had shown her how to throw it. Elisif didn’t know where a frost troll would be weakest at- their fur seemed to be as strong as plate mail, for all the good Tyre and Vladimar seemed to be doing striking it with swords. But maybe the troll’s eyes would be week. Elisif staggered up and threw her knife at the Frost Troll coming up behind the Dragonborn. It didn’t do much. There wasn’t enough strength behind it for it to pierce anything, and she hadn’t thrown it in a way that the blade hit the eye. At best, the hilt might have bopped the Troll on the nose. The only worthwhile thing Elisif did, was to distract the rampaging frost troll- which turned his attention on her. Elisif gave a small thought to whether the frost troll was even male, before her body leapt into gear. She didn’t try and directly outrun it, instead (remembering Lydia’s stories about the draugr) she jumped to the side. It put her further away from her sword, but it also kept her from another swipe of a frost troll’s claws. The force of the swipe spun the frost troll in the opposite direction, putting Elisif in his blind spot. Elisif went down into a crouch and used his fury to work her way around back to her sword. She was feeling faint, and her vision was going red. She barely reached her sword, hand grasping the hilt, when the frost troll saw her again. Elisif didn’t have a lot of time to think. She was a lot smaller than the troll; her armor wasn’t nearly as good as the weave of his fur. She wasn’t strong enough to batter the troll into submission, like she guessed Tyre would do. She couldn’t outrun the troll. The only thing Elisif could really do was sneak around it. Elisif considered as she rolled out of the way of the troll once again. Her pauldrons cut into her shoulders and her helmet hurt her neck as she rolled. She needed to find a weak spot- outside of the eyes because she couldn’t reach them. She turned and backed away as the troll spun and slashed her again. His rage was making him faster, the blows were cracking ice and snow around her. Unlike the troll, Elisif was starting to drip with water from melted snow- a problem that would make itself known quickly. Then she noticed there was a lot of blood and shit on his rear, oozing out. Elisif considered this for a moment. She glanced around- but Tyre and Vladimar were occupied, and Lydia was still trying to get down. Her hesitation lost her use of her free arm, as the ice troll swiped at her- blood slowly seeping through her gauntlet. Elisif got the message and dived to the side again. She didn’t hesitate as the Ice Troll twisted. She used her sword point and pushed the sword into the Ice Troll’s rear. It let out a bellow, turned and vomited all over Elisif, covering her with blood and bile. The troll fell to its knees and moaned- then collapsed. Elisif turned to see how Tyre and Vladimar’s fight was going. The ice troll was on its knees, swaying. Elisif felt her help was unneeded- and therefore decided to walk over to a clean patch of snow and collapse face first. She rubbed the snow all over her face, trying to get the gore off her and get rid of the smell. It didn’t really work. She felt disgusting.--- The barrier between the mage’s camp and the outer walls of Labyrinthian wasn’t a great distance, which meant when Tyre, Lydia, Vladimar and Elisif stumbled away from the corpses they had dissected for Troll Fat (Elisif had been assured this was necessary, for the sake of dealing with Chaurus and Falmer poison. Elisif was never going to take any potion that smelled like the fat Tyre peeled from those corpses) they got to see the large, wide-eyed audience of apprentice mages and a High Elf in blue robes, with a shining bone medallion on her chest. “It took four days for us to lure those trolls here for this week’s lesson in Destruction magic.” The High Elf sighed. Tyre, who was bruised and bloody, glared at the elf. “Your students could have helped.” “I didn’t know you wanted imprecise novices firing Destruction spells into your close-range fighting. I’ll keep that in mind for the future.” The Elf turned to the cluster of novices and called out- “When you have a close-range fighter in combat with a creature, when do you intervene?” A young man with Redguard coloring waved his hand in the air. The master sighed. “Yes, Dovi?” “It depends on the number and the size of the monster and your accuracy. Frost Trolls are vulnerable to fire magic, but it is inaccurate over long distances. Since the Frost Trolls are within a ratio size of 2:1, it would be more risk to the fighter for a mage to intervene.” Dovi said, grinning. “But that is only with Destruction magic-” “Which is what we are studying.” The elf sighed. Tyre smiled though- and opened his arms. “How are you doing, Dovi?” The apprentice raced to Tyre and wrapped his arms around him, uncaring of the mud, blood, and sweat staining the Dragonborn. “I’m surprised you haven’t taken the place over, yet.” Tyre teased. Dovi huffed out a laugh, looking up at him. “It would be more work than my patroness wants to handle.” Dovi said. “Right now I am focused on the Companions.” “I am Faralda.” The elf introduced herself to Elisif and Vladimar. Elisif gave the short bow that High Elves used to greet each other. Faralda grinned and bowed back. “I’ll have Dovi lead you to some baths. I am assuming Tyre is here to deal with our dragon problem.” As if summoned, a roar sounded from the top of the peak that looked over Labyrinthian. “Its going to cause an earthquake soon enough, and it is hard enough to deal with these ruins without digging them out of ten feet of snow.” Faralda shook her head. “I am afraid we do not have many restoration mages with this group. The Archmage needed all the Destruction mages to start burning out the magicka in the burrow.” “I am a dab hand at Restoration magic.” Vladimar said. “I’ll just need a few magicka potions.” “Those we have in great supply.” Faralda said. She called out- “Dovi, lead our friends to the baths, please.” She turned to another apprentice- another Altmer with red eyes. They didn’t quite look right. Elisif wasn’t certain what was wrong with them, but she felt like she needed to go before a shrine. It was the same feeling she got when she went too close to certain wings of the Blue Palace. “Jorvidur, please go and fetch some magicka potions.” The high elf went to run off, but Faralda called after them again: “The blue potion bottles, Jorvidur- they are labeled ‘extra magicka’ and ‘restore magicka’ do not bring anything else.” Faralda turned to look at Elisif. “Do not take or drink anything from them if it is not labeled.” Elisif nodded. She wasn’t going to be taking anything from them at all. Faralda led them into the burrow, the air crisp and flowing inside. They walked down some stairs and into a large open room- where a dragon skeleton was being rebuilt in the middle of the floor. Around the edges, there were stalls being built, some larger than others. Elisif was lead to one with a deep tub and a nearby bed. And Elisif relaxed into safety. When she stepped into the tub, she watched as the dirt, vomit, and shit steamed off her- leaving the water just as clean as when she stepped into it. The water was slightly cloudy and Elisif could smell healing potions steaming off the top. Her muscles, which had been sore so long she had forgotten what it was to relax, turned to a light jelly. Knots in her back and behind unfurled, leaving her feeling slightly sore and bruised- but flexible in a way she had never been before. She had carried some of those knots sitting on a throne in Solitude. The next day, Elisif wandered about the large caverns that made up the accessible parts of Labyrinthian. There were groups of mages going in and out of the exit cavern- covered in soot. Faralda explained that they had to get rid of some magical remains, or else the caverns would be unlivable- heat would build up from the ancient magicka and smother any living being. The dead Dragon-Priest who lived there previously had used the build up his own stores in order to kill off intruders. The younger apprentices- which included Dovi and Jorvidur- were practicing destruction spells in the corner. Elisif would normally be a little wary of going near such an area- but Faralda had explained the safety precautions. Anyone who cast a spell outside a range of magically created shields was put on chore duty for five days, the first time. The second time they are put on half rations and recording duty for the remainder of their cycle in Labyrinthian. The third time they are sent to the Archmage. “That doesn’t do much good if we are dead of smoke inhalation.” Elisif pointed out. “Oh, no. I think I would rather inhale smoke than face the Archmage again.” Jorvidur shuddered. “The first time was bad enough.” Dovi nodded furiously. “Actually,” Jorvidur said, slyly. “Why don’t we show you how it works?” Elisif looked at Faralda, who shrugged as Jorvidur dragged her off. Dovi ran and got a book and they set her in front of two columns of magical shielding. Dovi handed her a folded sheet of paper. “Open it.” Dovi said, eagerly. Elisif did so- and felt her brain twitch. She suddenly understood how she could use her magicka. The paper dissolved in her hands. “That’s the flames spell.” Dovi said. “Now hold out your hands like this.” Elisif tried to copy Dovi, but Jorvidur instantly started clucking. They got behind Elisif and started her fingers. Once they were in the right position, Jorvidur stepped back. “Now, cast!” Dovi said. Elisif tried to do what the paper showed her and released her magicka- only for the force to throw her thirty feet backwards into the half-rebuilt dragon. Several mages came to see what happened. It was a cluster of blue robes and the light of a thousand Detect Dead and Detect Life spells. Elisif looked up from her nest of dragon bones, aching with new bruises, and saw Faralda standing above her disapprovingly. “That wasn’t the Flames spell, was it.” Elisif ask, groggy. She felt so tired- like she had been awake for days. “No, no it wasn’t. What did I say about taking anything unlabeled from Jorvidur?” Faralda wasn’t smiling, but Elisif thought she may have been laughing at her. “It was Dovi.” Elisif said, before she passed out.--- She found Tyre in one of the stalls, next to a deep pool of water, steam wafting off the top of it. He was kneeling in front of Lydia, who is sitting next to a bowl full of blood. Tyre’s hair was slicked back with the water, but Lydia ran her fingers through it anyway. Elisif could barely see the grey, lost in the dark mat of dark brown. “I can’t take you on anymore of our trips, Lydia.” He whispered it into Lydia’s knees, covered with a quilted robe. “We either go back to Morthal- and I’ll build a house. We will live out your last days in one place- or you agree to go to the College.” For all of the certainty of Tyre’s words, his tone was of a begging man- aching and breaking on every other word. “I want to die like a Nord.” Lydia said, weakly. Her voice was hoarse. “How many times must we have this conversation?” Tyre gave a long groan, as if the very act of breathing was paining him. It was followed by a half-sob. Lydia continued to stroke her fingers through his hair. “You have lived as a Nord lives- seen more, saved more lives than most warriors will ever encounter. Retirement is not a failure.” Tyre gritted out. “If you will not seek a cure, please- have a gentle death.” He wrapped his hands behind her calves, gripping till his knuckles were white. “I am not yet thirty-five, Tyre.” Lydia sounded as if she was laughing. “I don’t want to die yet- of rest or of the thousand cures the Archmage may come up with.” Tyre lifted her hand and kissed her palm. The steam of the room was making the scene dream-like. Elisif felt as if she should leave, but at the same time- she could not take her eyes away. Her last meeting with Torygg was so different- yet so similar. Elisif’s throat ached to beg Lydia to stay as she once begged Torygg. “Come with me to the College.” Tyre said. “Let them see if there is a cure to be found- some sort of treatment. Maybe this can be a short period of illness in a long life.” “What life do I have outside of serving you, Tyre?” Lydia asked. “Outside of the call of battle? Nine out of the ten adventures we have together- I find myself changing history. How many lives have I saved. How many lives have you been able to save, because I have had your back- because I have saved you from that one arrow, from the claws of some beast? Why should I rest and stop when you will not?” “What life is there outside of my honor?” Torygg’s ghost whispered to her. “How many times have I gotten up in the morning and wanted to end it all? I have kept myself alive only for the hope that something like this would happen- that I could be allowed to fight for my people.” “I will release you from any oath you have given me. I will pay for whatever life you wish to live- just try, Lydia. As you have said, we have saved a hundred lives- a thousand lives together. Why can’t that be enough. I will rest with you.” Tyre’s head dug itself into Lydia’s robe. Elisif felt her own voice echo in the distant part of her head. “I will do anything- I will bear a child, just please, please- tell Ulfric you agree with him. Give him the crown. Have him executed! Just do not fight him in single combat. I will stand with you against Falk.” “I can not live a life that is not mine.” Lydia said, steadily. “Let me die on my feet.” “I can’t live like this anymore, Elisif. I can’t have my every move be watched. I can’t have my actions determined for me- not even by my wife. Let me die on my feet.” “You’re giving up.” Tyre said. “Please-” “You mean to die-” Elisif whispered faintly. “A compromise, then.” Tyre said. “Let us set up Elisif in a new life. She is sure to cause problems and mayhem. Travel with me until then, but if you survive till we get to Whiterun- you must either join the Companions or come with me to Winterhold. You will die a warrior or live long enough to be healed.” “I love you, please. Just this once- please think of me.” Elisif thought. “There is no guarantee they will have a cure. What then? You would remove me from your service?” Lydia’s voice broke. “I swore-“ “I will not have you die in my service, housecarl- not when there is a chance I can-.” Tyre’s whisper seemed to vibrate through the air. “Money won’t solve this, my Thane.” “Love won’t solve this, my Queen.” Elisif left with the Dragonborn still on his knees- his head on Lydia’s lap. --- Elisif did not see Tyre for three more days, though Lydia told her at breakfast he had gone to kill the dragon on the top of the mountain. Elisif nodded, then did her due diligence to do the variety of chores Faralda had set her to do, so the mages rebuilding the dragon could redo their work. Elisif mostly washed stone and sharpened tools, but Vladimar often took her aside to teach her healing spells- now that they had discovered Elisif could now cast different spells. It was not as exhausting as Morthal had been- but it was just as useful. By the end, she could not heal a papercut, but Vladimar claimed she was making progress. After the explosion of power from the spell Dovi had given her, Elisif felt disappointed. Faralda had Elisif working on different shifts on opposite sides of the worksite from Dovi and Jorvidur. Elisif appreciated it, but she had genuinely liked both of them. While Elisif worked, she watched as the mages did work that would take a hundred men a year to do. Elisif remembered the teetering walls of some of the holds. There were many forts that were barely holding a shape- it would take thousands of coins to hire men to repair bits and pieces of the cities. It would take a mage less than three days to fix it all (with enough potions). When Elisif asked Faralda why they did not volunteer to work for the holds, Faralda shrugged- uncomfortable. “Most of these spells are new.” Faralda said. “Well, new to the Fourth Age. The Arch-Mage showed us how to build and carve using these techniques only recently. We still have accidents. These were the spells of the Atmorians- the hands that built Saarthal and the ones that built the Word Walls and temples. We would have lost all of them, if not for her memory. The Arch-mage is also extremely wary of the Civil War. She is Atmorian, and when she died, they were still fighting the Snow Elves. Mages and Warriors had to work in harmony- and even then, many died. Children especially. She sees the Civil War as-” Faralda trailed off. “Squabbling.” Elisif guessed, voice dead. “Childish squabbling.” “Tolfdir says she almost convinced Tyre to stop the whole thing by force. He didn’t, but the Archmage might as well pull her support from the Empire and the Stormcloaks. She had to be talked down from killing any soldier on site.” Faralda’s lips twitched. “She’s slow to action, though. It comes from being in a tomb for years on end. She sees the College as her hold- and is making ways to defend that. She tried opening communication between yourself and Ulfric- but both of you seemed to reject her advances. Neither of you accepted J’zargo as a representative, though you responded to her gift much better than Ulfric responded to his.” “You are courting both sides.” Elisif ventured. She wasn’t quite sure what she thought of that morally (or legally for that matter) but she could respect the political gumption it took. “Labyrinthian is if we are kicked out of Winterhold, before the Archmage takes over.” Faralda said. “We are also building a waystation in Saarthal. We are picking up apprentices at a much younger age. I am not used to these many children, honestly.” “Child soldiers.” Elisif felt disgusted at the idea. “No.” Faralda’s voice was firm. “You don’t seem to understand. Children were sacred to Atmorians. She is giving them, as she sees it, a trade, and a place to sleep every night- with no fear of beast or weather. If they are not magically talented, she will exchange services with a smith or a warrior to have them teach the child. It is improving the Winterhold economy. It is also very hard to see some of us as evil mages when we are trying to corral children into making snowmen.” Faralda paused. “You don’t want to know.” “She has not been Archmage for very long, how does she handle the mages with more experience? What about the mages who were working for the previous Archmage?” Elisif asked. “As opposed to your own inexperience in ruling?” Faralda asked, shrewdly. “That would be something you would have to ask her. I haven’t the least idea how the politics of the school worked out. I was gunning for a position, and I didn’t get it- but at the same time I was given more responsibility. Not much else changed. “ Faralda rubbed her fingers together, flames dancing around the tips. “Actually, something did change. I was no longer afraid after she took charge. I could walk into Winterhold with my head held high- if anything happened to me- I have no doubt I would be avenged. We were no longer scared of being brushed off into the annals of history- forgotten by all but the most studious of mages. My life has meaning outside of my ambitions now. It’s a heady feeling. It’s scary but worth it, I think.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Tyre came back after six days. He brought back a great deal of armor and weapons, dragonbone and potion ingredients. Tyre had created some sort of sled from the ribs of the dragon, all the loot piled high- shining bright against the snow and a sky unburdened by fog. Tyre gave Lydia a bracelet made of dragon teeth- sides carved to interlock. He gave Elisif two new daggers- warning her not to lose them. The color of the daggers was strange, and when Elisif asked- Tyre had claimed it was dwarven make. He greeted Vladimar with a kiss on the forehead and an amulet with an enchantment to improve frost resistance. The rest of the loot he gave to Faralda, who gave him several bags of coins. Tyre wasted no time having the group packed and leaving within a day of him arriving. Dovi came and apologized to Elisif for the spell issue- and got slipped some gold from Tyre. Elisif rolled her eyes in sync with Lydia at the apology.The road from Labyrinthian- south through the mountains- was a smooth one. There was another frost troll, but Vladimar shot it with a flame spell- allowing Lydia to shove her sword through its stomach. Lydia told Tyre they were not stopping to get Troll Fat- unless he wanted to sleep a mile away from them- as there were no baths within a day’s walk. Tyre rolled his eyes but knocked his forehead against Lydia’s. Lydia promptly coughed in his face, causing Tyre to release a deep bark of laughter. They walked directly east, following the foothills. The snow giving way to mud, then a brown grass. Tyre led them around a bandit camp- an ancient Nord town crowded with the sound of people. When Lydia mentioned the camp was a bandit camp, Elisif argued with Tyre about passing without taking care of the problem. She suggested setting fire to the inside when Tyre shook his head and dragged her- sneaking- to the edge of the camp. At one of the outposts, Elisif watched as an older man showed a bunch of children how to tan a hide as an archer stood guard. The children ranged from toddlers to pre-teens. None of them were dressed in anything but furs. Elisif could see the harsh shadows of their faces give way to deep craggy smiles. She would have sat and watched for longer- like waiting for a reflection in the water, but Tyre dragged her back.“Most of these bandit camps are people who can’t pay their bounties. Balgruuf doesn’t bother this one because they are mostly children and old men. There are even a few smiths that don’t have bounties at all. They only attack if you are a treasure hunter or attack them first. They are penned in by giant camps. They can’t ask for a toll. ”Elisif felt embarrassed at the thought of what her unthinking judgement might have done. Rather than dwell on the horror of her own actions- she started questioning Tyre on the bandit camps in Skyrim. By Tyre’s estimate, based on his travels around Skyrim, he estimated more than half of the population was based in bandit camps. This did not include Markarth, which Tyre informed Elisif had more than eighty percent of the people in camps outside of Nord settlements. “Balgruuf and his father were raised in bandit camps like this one. It was only with the work of Balgruuf’s grandfather- Balgruuf the Lesser, that Balgruuf even took Whiterun’s seat back.” “Balgruuf is the rightful and direct heir of Olaf One-Eye.” Elisif pointed out. This was known. “Yes, but after the Oblivion Crisis, Balgruuf’s ancestor was not on good terms with the Empire. When the Empire had him assassinated, the ancestor’s mother took the throne again. She was a witch of considerable power, but not well-liked by the citizens. The next heir was eight when the witch died, so a steward was put into Dragon’s reach while the child was sent to Winterhold.” “A new Jarl should have been appointed instead.” Elisif pointed out. “By Skyrim tradition, yes.” Tyre agreed. “But the Empire oversaw Whiterun. They ended up giving High Hrothgar to Windhelm to keep the peace. As the years went on, more and more of Whiterun was given away and Balgruuf’s family grew further and further away from Dragon’s Reach. It was only when Balgruuf’s grandfather convinced the other holds to ignore Whiterun and Winterhold was devastated by the Great Collapse that Balgruuf the Lesser was able to make moves to take Whiterun back. Balgruuf the Lesser had his son, Fritjof, start working to pacify the bandits that were growing wild over Skyrim by then. Balgruuf the Lesser maneuvered himself to council the second line of stewards that had taken over Dragon’s Reach, the Avenicii. The Greymanes and the Battleborns knew who he was well enough. As did the Harbinger of the Companions. Imperial rule dd not sit well on their shoulders. The Companions were being taxed, the Empire was stationing soldiers and those soldiers were taking their work- to the point they may have needed to go further afield. By the time Balgruuf the Lesser came to Dragon’s Reach, everyone was of the opinion any Nord would be better than the Empire. When the Empire called its sons to war, however- Balgruuf the Greater convinced his grandfather and father to let him take his friend Iraleth and go to war. During the war, the steward died, Balgruuf the Lesser was named Jarl. Balgruuf the Greater became a war hero. When Balgruuf the Greater got his name and came back, his grandfather stepped down and handed Dragon’s Reach over to him. The Empire couldn’t afford to go to war over taking back a throne from a war hero- not when he was technically the rightful heir. Balgruuf sent any remaining Imperial Soldiers home, consolidated the bounties in Whiterun- paying off several- and organized the bandits to be a bit like scouts for the hold. His younger brother has been known to go out and carry messages to and from the bandits to Balgruuf.” “Is that why Balgruuf took no part in the Markarth Incident with Stormcloak?” Elisif asked. That was the part of the incident that had always bothered her. Markarth was on the border of Whiterun, by all accounts, Balgruuf should have been chomping at the bit to take the hold back from the foresworn. “Balgruuf needed a way to keep the people in the bandit camps happy- as well as the Empire. The Forsworn were friendly towards most bandit groups and (from some conjecture on my part), Balgruuf didn’t like the Silverbloods and the Jarl of Markarth at the time.” Tyre grimaced. “I was a young man at the time, but I remember the warnings from every poor man on the road- don’t go to Markarth. They had the habit of beheading first and asking questions later.” “The Foresworn-” “Even in the city of Markarth, the Native Breton population makes up most of the population- followed by the Orcs. Nords don’t live in the Reach if they can help it.” Tyre claimed. “I haven’t done an actual census, mind you. Yet, unless I am wrong, Nords were the richest people in the Reach. It is absolutely ridiculous.” “But the Foresworn are-” “The current reigning government in the Reach- lead by King Madanach and Mort Vivi.” Tyre said. “I tell you this as a friend- Nords will find no welcome in the Reach.” “The Reach holds most of Skyrim’s treasury.” Elisif said, dumbly. The Empire wasn’t repaying them for requisitions, most, if not all, of Western Skyrim had its securities in wealth stored in the Reach. Elisif still cared. She could still see the picture coming up and solidifying before her. She still saw a lot from her place in the locked tower of Solitude. She still heard the rumors and problems of supplies. She knew where the money was supposed to be going. She knew how much money Solitude had put on the line- how much she had put on the line- for the East Empire Trading Company to send supplies. Solitude was going to be bankrupt. No matter how much money Tullius gave Solitude for supplies- it didn’t matter, the Empire was going to make it back. Solitude was basically paying out the nose for its own war on its own people. Elisif felt like crying. She had made an awful mess of things- and Tullius must have reports of Markarth- must know something is wrong, that the hold was lost. Or, perhaps he knew Solitude would have to rely on the Empire’s army to gain back the money they would have to pay back to the Empire for the last fucking war. If Elisif had won, the Empire would have taken Skyrim- or worse, there would be no more Skyrim. Ulfric was right. Ulfric was also her husband’s murderer. Or at least he assisted in her husband’s suicide. Elisif had enough introspection. “Markarth is part of Skyrim.” Elisif said, sternly, to end the conversation. “The Nords will take care of the Foresworn situation-” “Like they have for the past two ages of man, I am sure. It took a dragonborn to conquer them in the first place- and I am not going to lend my voice to the mass murder of an entire hold.”--- Elisif didn’t talk for most of the next day as they walked South, finally on a road. The land was starting to get greener- though that wasn’t saying much. The main color of the landscape was still brown. The road was largely well maintained, with drainage ditches on either side. She could see farms in the distance- to each side- and in the distance she could hear the bellows of Mammoths and see their keepers trundling on along side them. Her boots were almost worn through, bet they were the most comfortable shoes she had ever worn. They bent and flexed with her legs; the laces put pressure on just the right spots. Her armor was also moving with her as she walked. It was heavier than any dress she had ever worn, but she had never felt lighter. The aches and pains of the road had turned inconsequential- while the burdens had become comforting. It was not until she heard the roar of a dragon that she realized she was in danger. Elisif heard Lydia yell “Roll!” and she immediately rolled to the left of the road, falling into a drainage ditch. Ice seemed to flow over her- like the feeling of jumping headfirst into the Sea of Ghosts. Torygg could stay in the cold for a half hour. Elisif wanted to jump out of her skin- to crawl until she got rid of the sensation of cold. Tyre roared in the background, and the cold disappeared. Elisif felt her body start to warm up and in response every part of her started vibrating with the shivers. She couldn’t really stand, but with the knowledge the cold might come back, Elisif threw herself forward out of the ditch. Elisif clenched her jaw and stumbled to her feet. In an instant, Elisif understood why Tyre had told her to flee from dragons and after a moment more she understood why the Atmorians used to worship them. Their scales gave off their own light, glowing with menace. These were predators who never cared whether they were seen or not. What prey would be able to hide from them. The dragon’s scales rippled as its muscles bunched. Elisif gave half a thought to wedging her sword under the scales- only to see a thick hide, with its layers reversed under the first layer of scales. Only brute force or magic was going to get through that hide. The muscles in Tyre’s arms must have developed from long practice hacking through the hides. Elisif could see no way to help, but at the same time, she knew if the dragon was not slain- she would not live to see the next hour. She looked around- only to see Vladimar hunched over himself, shivering with the cold. Elisif looked at the pattern of the frost. It looked like the dragon had only directly aimed for Vladimar- she was just a lucky bystander- a secondary snack. The dragon’s tail whipped around, hitting her in the stomach and flinging her yards away. She hit the ground and rolled a good hundred meters. Her arm was broken. She had accidently rolled into a- Cart. On top of the cart, she saw a man in a jester’s outfit sitting, staring at her. He tilted his head slightly- and Elisif mirrored the movement. Elisif had the oddest sense that she was as safer than she had ever been in her life, and at the same time, the man looking at her was utterly deranged. The dragon roared in the distance. Elisif looked down at her arm. It would need to be set before she went back to help. She awkwardly rolled and shimmied until her feet got under her. “Do you know how to set bones?” Elisif asked the man above her in the cart. “Cicero is afraid,” Cicero grinned like he had never even heard of the emotion, “That if the pretty lady wants her arm set- she must get up onto the cart. Cicero is not getting down. ” Elisif hesitated. That sounded like it would hurt a great deal. She pulled herself up anyway, using her unbroken left arm to latch onto the seat and pull her belly up and onto the seat. Her legs scrambled as she struggled to take the pressure off her stomach. The sound of the dragon’s roar was getting closer and closer. Elisif was intently not looking in the dragon’s direction. When Elisif finally held her arm out, letting Cicero feel it- pressing deep into the broken areas. “Cicero believes you have shattered the bone.” Cicero grinned. “Cicero can pull it straight, and I know a good healing spell. Elisif nodded. She knew it was going to hurt. She knew she could not scream. She sensed Cicero was going to have a great deal of fun causing her pain but dismissed the feeling. And it happened as she imagined it. Cicero pulled, using one hand to squeeze the wrist and the other hand to pinch one of the broken parts of her arm. It was painful. Elisif ended up gasping on Cicero’s shoulder as he patted her back. He was overly warm, smelling of Nightshade and moist dirt. “There, there- look! It is much better.” Elisif groaned and tried not to vomit. She pressed her head to Cicero’s shoulder. The world around her went light and airy for a moment before the world went back to normal. The lack of pain was such a relief Elisif let her tears fall freely. Cicero patted her on the back. When she got her senses back, Elisif turned to jump out of the carriage. The jester looped a hand around her waist and pulled her tight to his side. “Just a moment! Just a moment. Cicero does not think the pretty lady with the bad armor will do much good against a dragon. Stay by Cicero for a moment- let us watch.” Elisif couldn’t get free of Cicero’s arm. She pushed and shoved, but Cicero’s arm was like iron around her. Even Tyre had never made her feel as helpless. She looked at Cicero’s other hand and saw a knife gleaming. Cicero did a running commentary on the fight in front of them. He pointed out the weak points the warrior was aiming for- “The eyes. The EYES. Cicero had wondered. And under the throat! These are such good places on humans, but Cicero was not certain about dragons. Look at the other- diving towards the belly. If Cicero had a bow, he might help them.” Cicero sighed. “It is unfortunate that Cicero does not.” Elisif was much more afraid of Cicero than the dragon at this point, even if she couldn’t quite shake the idea that Cicero couldn’t harm her. The dragon rose on its hind legs, trumpeting its defeat, before it fell, crashing onto the earth. It caused the whole ground to shake- sending Cicero’s cart bouncing- and causing one of the wheels to break. Cicero immediately let go of Elisif- jumping off the cart and rushing around- checking on a coffin in the bed of the carriage. Elisif jumped off and tried to calm the horse, who seemed to be mad with terror, as he had not been since the entire fight with the dragon. Elisif found this…odd but did not question it. “Mother!” Cicero wrapped his arms around the coffin. “You are safe, yes? Safe in your coffin? Speak to Cicero! Speak!” Cicero sighed, letting his head fall against the coffin. Then he glanced over at Elisif and whined. “Mother never speaks to Cicero, though Cicero tries to be so good to mother.” Elisif didn’t know how to respond, outside of making a sympathetic face and nodding. The horse calmed under Elisif’s hands, the thundering pulse going down to a dull thud. Hands grabbed Elisif and spun her around. Tyre’s wild eyes looked at her. His hands ran up and down her body- checking for injuries. “Are you alright?” Tyre asked. “I’m unharmed.” Elisif patted Tyre on the shoulder, strangely at ease. Elisif felt a great wind rise up- and light shine- as some sort of essence roared from the dragon and came into Tyre. Elisif stared into Tyre’s eyes as it happened, and for a moment- Elisif saw the whole of creation. The beginning and end of time held by a single universe- held by a single dream. It flashed in Tyre’s eyes, until the light faded, and she stared into dark eyes once again. Tyre also looked at her, unsure- his brow furrowed. “Your eyes went black for a second Elisif.” Tyre said slowly. “Are you certain you are well?” “Anyone’s eyes would look black next to that display, Tyre.” Lydia said from his side. “Let her go. She is fine.” “Would the pretty lady give Cicero an introduction to the rather large dragon slayer?” Cicero asked, and that Elisif thought, put a bit of change in the air. --- Lorius Farm was not willing to help a mad jester sitting on the road in front of their house. The were, however, very willing to help Tyre- the one who had killed the dragon who might have killed one of their cows. The one who was also Dragonborn and a Thane of the hold. The wheel of the wagon got fixed and Tyre and Cicero had a lovely discussion about various weapons and the use of bows in combat. Elisif had stopped listening at one point, but Cicero pulled Elisif back into the conversation as he helped her into the seat next to him. “Would the pretty lady want to learn the bow?” Cicero asked. “I am willing to learn anything anybody will teach me at this point.” Elisif said honestly. The longer she spent wandering the wild with Tyre, the more she realized she was a hopeless idiot. The idea that she had been telling soldiers what to do was immensely embarrassing to her now. On the other hand- imagining Tullius out camping without his tent and his soldiers to keep him fed and informed- it warmed her. Tullius was terrifyingly confident, but the General who could not put up with her questioning him for more than twenty minutes at a time. Elisif could not imagine the General sitting over a bundle of twigs, trying to get them to burn as the wind howled around him. Cicero’s mouth twitched up into a smirk. “Of course, it might not be in Cicero’s best interest to teach the pretty lady how to shoot a bow. The pretty lady may harm Cicero with her arm strength, when poor Cicero is trying to keep her from confronting a dragon.” “I am grateful for that.” Tyre said dryly. “But if she can learn to give me long range support, I would be grateful. I’ve had a few archers travel with me before. They tend to cut those dragon confrontations in half.” “Are you planning on traveling with this-” Cicero looked at the four Nords with slight disgust. “Fighting group for a while, pretty lady?” Elisif was about to open her mouth to tell Cicero to call her El, but a sense of disquiet crept up her back. It would be bad to lie to this one. “I am trying very hard to be a fighter currently, Cicero. I don’t think I am quite there yet.” Cicero cackled. “A fighter? You? Surely you jest with Cicero.” Tyre looked at Cicero with an eyebrow raised. “She is a Nord, isn’t she?” “Yes,” Cicero wiped a tear from his cheek. “But look at her hands- Her hands!” Lydia held up her hands- “Same as mine, larger in fact.” “It is not the size! You jest with poor Cicero, you jest! Look at her fingers! The muscles are strong, yes- but not without flexibility.” Cicero’s voice grew soft and sultry at the end. Elisif giggled, though she had no idea why. She was pretty sure anyone else who had addressed her in such a manner would have been slapped in Solitude. “The callouses are fine, Cicero supposes.” Cicero pulled off Elisif’s glove. “But look at her wrist- well controlled, but as a battering ram is- oh, no!” Elisif was slightly surprised he picked up her left hand. She was left-handed, but not many people picked up on that. Tyre, in fact, had been teaching her to use a sword with her right hand. “The callous on the pointer- the slight indentation on the inside of your outer finger- you must have some skill at picking locks,” Cicero said, nodding to himself. “Cicero has seen it many a time, you are very practiced- yes? But you are amateurish as well- at a certain point the pick. Just. Slips.” Cicero burst into laughter, dropping Elisif’s hand into her lap- patting it. “Trying to teach a thief how to be a fighter- oh, Cicero has not seen such foolishness in sometime.” Cicero’s voice was high, but it soon dropped low. “But then again, Cicero has been alone for some time.” “Why have you been alone?” Tyre asked. He was friendly, walking besides the cart, but Elisif recognized the same tone he used on the Thalmor in his question to Cicero. Cicero apparently recognized the tone as well. “Cicero was attending his dear departed mother, of course. She has required so much of Cicero.” Cicero’s hand went and grabbed Elisif’s hand, squeezing it gently. “It is good to be among people again, yes, it is indeed.” Cicero gave a deep, dramatic sigh. “Still Cicero could never bear to abandon his dear departed mother.” Tyre hummed in agreement. “Are you going to Whiterun?” Tyre asked. “I wasn’t aware Whiterun’s Hall of the Dead took coffins like your mother’s, especially from outside the hold.” Cicero gave a giggle. “No, Cicero is heading further south! Not much, but further! Cicero is heading to the Hold of Falkreath. Cicero has heard there is a great graveyard there, open to all!” Tyre relaxed a bit. “Yeah, you must have come down from the Sea of Ghosts. Easier to get such a coffin down south than it would be to get the coffin through the mountains from Cyrodill.” “Indeed! The fighter is so very clever. Going through the southern mountains was never an option with mother travelling with me.” “Expensive coffin for the mother of a jester.” Tyre’s voice was offhanded. “Aye, so it is! As Cicero said, the fighter is clever- but Cicero’s mother was a mother to all. She had many children who wished to do her honour.” Tyre gave a half grimace but accepted the explanation. Elisif didn’t see the point in questioning the man any further. No one who talked to Cicero for more than ten minutes would think he was a fool nor harmless- but neither would they think the jester was uncontrolled. If Cicero was saying he was taking his mother down to Falkreath to be buried, Elisif didn’t see how anything else was their business. He was slightly creepy- but he wasn’t breaking any laws. Elisif felt comfortable with Cicero, but she could see Lydia and Tyre were not- though Vladimar was holding his own council. “Cicero is very interested in knowing why a pretty lady is travelling with a Nord and his two housecarls. Cicero is worried he may have stumbled upon important people. Cicero does not wish to offend.” Lydia chose that moment to burst out into coughing. It had been a few days since her last bout of problems- Elisif had hoped the warmed weather would help. Elisif was getting down to offer Lydia her seat when Tyre scooped her up. “I’ll carry her, Elisif.” Tyre’s voice was pleasant, but Elisif knew at that moment Lydia would be let near Cicero when Tyre himself was dead. Cicero seemed to know this as well because he let out a long cackle. “Yes, I have stumbled on important people indeed! But Cicero thinks there is none more important to the fighter than the housecarl, yes?” Tyre’s knuckles went white where he held onto Lydia. Lydia was hacking into his throat. Her armor creaked and groaned with the movement. “Cicero understands.” Cicero put a hand on his chest. “There is no one more important to Cicero than his mother.” Tyre swallowed and glared at Cicero, but he didn’t keep up the conversation. --- They parted ways from Cicero at the Whiterun Stables, where Cicero started asking after news and trading in old broken pieces of horse tack for something newer. Cicero did not quite say goodbye, but he did adjust Elisif’s dwarven dagger from where it hung on her waist before helping her down. “Cicero will leave very soon! We must get mother safe and buried.” Cicero gave a short laugh. “Cicero thinks he would not like to see you anytime soon. It would be unfortunate. But Cicero does wish you well. Can Cicero know the name of the pretty lady who tried to rush into a dragon fight?” Tyre had stopped paying attention to Cicero to argue with Lydia, who wished to walk up the hill to Dragon’s Reach. Vladimar was casting healing magic, but Lydia continued to cough. Elisif felt her mouth answer before her brain could stop her. “Elisif.” Cicero gave a little giggle. “Cicero, thanks the pretty Elisif. For her trust- and her kindness. I do hope you find someone to teach you the bow! You should find some teachers who are not as reckless- find someone like Cicero, who can kill with more discretion. And if Cicero were to give Elisif any advice- it would be to run, next time she sees a dragon.” A laugh sounded in the back of Elisif’s head. I would heed him, my child. The next time a dragon roars- run far and run fast. Cicero left Elisif then, completely ignoring Tyre- looking a bit frantic. Lydia convinced Tyre to let her walk up the hill, but Vladimar took Tyre and Lydia’s weapon’s so that Lydia would have an easier walk and Tyre could hold her if need be. They, after all-, didn’t need to worry about being attacked in Whiterun.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
It felt rather silly to her, now, to think she had rights over the holds she had never really traveled. She had been paying more attention to Cicero than the landscape on the journey to Whiterun. Once they had gotten closer- well- Elisif believed Whiterun was perfectly positioned for a fortress. It rose above the plains- like a wave cresting above water and sand. It was the natural focal point for the eye. It was also a very steep hill- and Elisif had lived next to Dragon’s Bridge. Lydia was tightly grasping Tyre’s arm- but she was walking up the slope with more dignity than Elisif. Every other breath, Lydia would give a little hitching breath- a suppressed cough, and Tyre would flinch and open his mouth. If Elisif had been walking alone, she might have gone slower. Lydia pushed the pace more quickly. By the time they got over the moat, and Elisif saw the next bit of steep hill- Elisif could have cried. Lydia’s teeth were audibly grinding, and Tyre’s arms were tensing and relaxing at quick intervals. “Dragonborn!” One of the guards shouted. “Lydia! It had been some time since you both came this way.” “Midiir,” Tyre gave a slight smile, then frowned when he saw the other guard. “Its Knud.” Lydia cursed. “Knud?” Elisif asked. Vladimar also gave an inquisitive noise. “You’ll see.” Tyre’s voice was grim. “Falling down on the job, housecarl?” Knud’s voice was melodic in the way a childhood bully’s voice could sound when they had discovered a new taunt. The kind that rhymed and stung in equal horrible measure. “I don’t need you to critique my housecarls, Knud.” Tyre said, stiff. “Just a bit of fun, Dragonborn. Lydia used to be one of us, remember?” Elisif couldn’t see Knud’s face under his helmet. She didn’t like the way his hand was wrapped around his bow. “There are a lot of guests in Whiterun at the moment- wouldn’t want them to get a bad impression of Whiterun’s guards.” Lydia wheezed out a breath. Elisif could tell she was getting herself worked up- despite Lydia’s general lack of care for other’s opinions and therefore didn’t give a fig about Knud’s opinions. “What kind of guests?” Tyre ignored Knud and looked at Midiir. The Bosmer took off her helmet and Elisif just barely kept herself from gasping. Long lines of lightning scars ran down her face and into the collar of her mail. “We’ve got Ralof from Riverwood, he came from Windhelm with word from Ulfric Stormcloak. There are problems in Solitude, though no one knows what the problems actually are right now. Balgruuf has been trying to get any sort of intelligence from the west. Tullius demands surrender, and Jarl Elisif has been “overcome with grief.” Falk Firebeard is ruling Solitude now, but it hasn’t been made official. Stormcloak has been raising a fuss because he thinks they may have killed her.” Midiir shrugged. “Or at least that is what Ralof said. It’s the only thing keeping Ulfric from sending Balgruuf his ax, according to him.” Elisif tried not to vomit. “Didn’t he kill her husband?” Vladimar asked. Elisif was startled to remember Vladimar shouldn’t know her name. “The Nords up at the Bannered Mare seem to understand it. I don’t.” Midiir tossed her hands up. “Then we’ve got the Thalmor up in arms about some sort of Talos Shrine.” Knud gave a deep groan at that. “Didn’t say a thing about it, just complained about it right up and through the gate at each other.” “One of them flashed a writ at me, or I wouldn’t have let them through.” “Hiemskir is in a state. The Companions all came and sat around the Talos statue. Avencii came down and called it a ‘monument to Talos as a conqueror”. Knud shuddered. “I thought there was going to be fighting right then and there, but Harbringer Athis comes out, baring Wuuthrund- standing in front of the Justiciar and asks if he needs an “escort” to see the Jarl, or an “escort” back to Solitude. Its currently at a stalemate- the Thalmor are at the Temple of Kynerath currently.” “Balgruuf hasn’t come down?” Lydia asked. Tyre made a noise and shook his head. “If he’s smart he’ll stay up in Dragon’s Reach until the whole thing blows over.” “That’s what I thought.” Knud said, nodding. Tyre grimaced. “Problem is, though- we can’t get word between the Captain and us. We just had more guests come through.” “And we would like to kick them out.” Midiir cricked her neck. “We got some fellows from Solthstiem, they are in some kind of cult. They are looking for “The one who claims to be Dragonborn.” “ “Ah.” Tyre said. He raised a greying eyebrow. He looked very old. Knud shrugged. “They look harmless.” “Just in a cult.” “Aye.” Tyre looked at Midiir. “I dunno, one of them might be a mage. I felt very agreeable about letting them in.” Tyre cursed. “Vladmir, hand me my weapons. Lydia, you need to go sit down.” Lydia’s face was bright red- from anger or from trying to suppress her coughing- Elisif couldn’t tell. She opened her mouth to argue- and Tyre roared at her. And then the gate to Whiterun opened- and Elisif didn’t remember what happened next for a long time.
The sins of the unworthy must be baptized in blood and fear
She didn’t remember when she was keeping track of time again. She just remembered running south down the road. There was a dragon roar in the distance, the sounds of wolves howling- and the endless dark sky above her. The stars of Skyrim were a fantastic sight- but Elisif appreciated them more for the way the light made the land about her change in shadows- showing her the path in front of her to run.
The sins of the unworthy must be baptized in blood and fear
There was blood in her mouth. Elisif continued to franticly swallow- vomit, saliva and blood. She heard whispers behind her. Whispers were in front of her. She couldn’t see in color, but she heard every shuffle and scuttle behind her, urging her to move faster.
The sins of the unworthy must be baptized in blood and fear.
She woke up next to a campfire, with Cicero petting her hair. He was tossing a knife- up and down in the air. The dawn’s light bounced off the ebony. “Is the pretty lady awake?” Cicero squealed into the still morning as she immediately rolled over. Elisif was running from something- something she couldn’t- There was roasted skeever on a spit next to the fire. Heedless of the damage to her hands, she started tearing off bits of meat and shoving them into her mouth. Grease dripped down her chin, and she nearly choked as she consumed the meat. Cicero sat back and watched her. Elisif looked at him. He looked very disappointed. “It is very rude to take another’s meal,” Cicero said very softly. “It is a very easy way to become food yourself. That was going to be my bait for some larger prey. Cicero was going to poison it, but he had to wait until the food finished cooling. The poison makes bears and tigers sleepy- makes their insides stop working. The heart stills and the stomach bloats until- ” Cicero made a popping gesture with his hands. “The whole body explodes, so Cicero can get some potion ingredients and can skin their pretty furs.” Elisif turned around and vomited. When she stopped, Cicero held out a water skin. Elisif didn’t take it. Cicero chuckled, opened the skin, and took a long gulp. Then he handed the skin to her. “Take slow sips, my sweet. You need to keep the water down. You ran quite a long way.” Elisif took a few sips before closing the waterskin with the cork. She was about to ask where they were when she grew unbearably tired once again. She collapsed in a heap by the fire. --- Elisif woke next to Cicero. The cart was rumbling along next to a large lake. Cicero was humming some sort of tune, but Elisif couldn’t quite place what it was. It sounded oddly familiar. “Are we awake again?” Cicero smelled like some sort of dust- the kind when you open a dry book from a cellar. It overwhelms you until you have a moment to breathe. Elisif took a deep breath in, somewhat distracted by the smell of it. “Cicero was awfully worried. The pretty lady comes running up with brambles in her hair, dirt on her face and so much blood and viscera on her clothes. Cicero thought he must have missed an excellent fight.” Cicero sighed. “It is good Cicero was not in a fight, for he must take care of Mother, but the idea! You must tell Cicero of it! What did you kill?” “I don’t remember.” Cicero giggled. “Ah, those are the most interesting ones! Cicero once forgot a fight that lasted for two days. He was so stunned and scared. His poor teacher had to drag him out of it! Cicero did not remember it for years later in the middle of a banquet.” Cicero sighed. “Cicero still hates roasted carrots.” Elisif didn’t want to remember. She didn’t know what had happened- but she knew it was nothing good. This had happened a few times before, she thought. She didn’t know how she knew that- but she did. In any case, it was not worth thinking about. “Where are we?” Elisif asked. “Was Tyre nearby when you found me?” Lydia couldn’t keep up, but Vladimar knows healing spells- Cicero shook his head. “There was no one. There was nothing in any direction except a rather angry spider. Cicero took care of the spider when you collapsed. Cicero was surprised when he saw you, in fact. Cicero was sure no one had followed him from Whiterun nor could have caught up with him on foot. We are by a lake- in which you are going to bathe.” Elisif was offended right up until the moment she smelled herself. She was incrusted with gore and had pissed herself as well. There was some sort of green slime on her shoulder. “Cicero would be careful with that; it is Spider Venom.” Cicero pulled the wagon to the side and tied the horse to a tree. “Cicero would normally volunteer to guard, except Cicero is also absolutely filthy.” Cicero jumped down from the cart, not bothering to help Elisif this time. “Look at Cicero’s poor hat. Cicero can not meet the rest of his mother’s children when he is in such a state.” Elisif nodded and jumped down. Her boots slid in the mud, and she noticed they were torn and peeling off her feet. Elisif burst into tears at the sight. Elisif couldn’t see anything through her tears, though she did notice when Cicero came close to her, guiding her somewhere. And then he promptly tossed her into the water. Elisif came up sputtering and still sobbing. Cicero dunked her under again. He did it as often as necessary until Elisif finally got angry and slapped his hands away. “Finally,” Cicero said. “Pretty lady is a pretty lady- but Cicero’s head is killing him. There has been much crying, and you have been screaming in your sleep.” Cicero took his hat off. His red hair- with grey hairs peeking out from his temples- was soaked and oily. “Cicero is hoping to be rewarded for helping the pretty lady. But. BUT! Cicero is not sure if any reward is worth going these many days without sleep. Cicero hopes you are worth quite a bit of coin. “I am not worth any coin,” Elisif said. Her voice was completely dead. She didn’t know where Tyre was or if she was even a blip on his radar. She might have abandoned him during a fight, he might be dead. She would rather die than go back to Falk or be bought by Ulric Stormcloak. In any case, Falk wasn’t likely to do anything but make her pay for her own ransom, and she couldn’t afford her own ransom now. Cicero stared at her. The air was filled with the sound of dragonflies and a sharp wind overlapping water- otherwise, it was quiet. Elisif looked at Cicero and wished, for the first time in their acquaintance, that he was a mad man. Elisif was pretty sure he would have killed her for the lie or for thinking it was the truth, in any case. “Elisif,” Cicero said, his voice dangerously quiet, “is going to find a way to repay Cicero, or Cicero is going to take his price from Elisif’s pretty speckled skin and make a lovely bag from the leather.” Elisif sighed. “Alright.” Cicero nodded, then dunked her under the water again. --- The bath was much needed. Cicero took off his clothes and made Elisif take off hers and her armor. He had her beat the damn things while he cleaned and oiled his daggers. Elisif volunteered to build a fire- but Cicero laughed at her. “Pretty lady thinks we want to attract attention? Shine a light on all the things that can kill us. Cicero has his daggers- and Elisif has her little iron toothpick, do you think that will kill a bear?” Cicero laughed some more. When they bathed, Cicero used sand and a small amount of oil to clean his hair. When Elisif asked about how he did it- Cicero was so offended she asked about his hair treatment that he wouldn’t talk to her for a good fifteen minutes. Elisif hadn’t seen anyone but Torygg stark naked, though she had seen people naked in steamy baths. It wasn’t quite the same thing. Most of those people wore a towel or something similar. A lot of people at the Blue Palace had seen her naked, so she bore Cicero’s own scrutiny with little to no thought. Cicero was not built like a Nord. His shoulders were broad, but Elisif could count his ribs. Most Nords had lines around their wrists and neck where they saw the sun and where they did not. Cicero was very pale- there were no lines Elisif could really see. She could count his ribs, from the lack of fat on his body- but also from the pale pink scar like lines that traced out his ribcage. It looked like scar tissue, but Elisif wasn’t sure. He had other scars as well. There were claw marks on his thigh, and a long slash mark across his chest. He had the purple stretch marks of a man who was starved- then ate too much when he got the opportunity- his stomach was rounded, not conclave. His arms and shoulders were defined- and the hair on his body was greyer than red. Cicero saw her looking. He didn’t preen as she expected. He merely stared at her; eyebrow raised. His eyes were dark- Elisif had the strangest urge to apologize. She didn’t quite know for what. Cicero didn’t seem to care after she averted her own eyes. Elisif copied what Cicero did with his own hair, only without the oil. She didn’t have the potions Lydia did when she first showed Elisif how to do her hair, but Elisif did her best. Her hair was short enough and thick enough not to tangle easily, and she was able to pull out the braid to clean her hair properly. Cicero and Elisif were sitting on the rock when the two orcs came walking by---- “Look, if Talos is a god- he’s got to have mantled one, right? Best case is that he mantled Shor, who mantled Lorkhan.” The orc was tall and had a nice two-handed warhammer on their back. “Can’t a god be a god in their own right?” The orc walking next to them said. She had an amulet of Talos around her neck, and a Hagraven head on her hip. “Sure, but you’ve been complaining to all and sundry about how the Reach can’t have their own god-” “She isn’t anything-” “No mage could have pulled up that much water for three days. If she’s not a god, she’s the closest thing we have besides the daedra-” Both orcs stopped and looked at Cicero and Elisif. Elisif was gripping a knife tightly, and Cicero was still lounging on the lake shore. Both Cicero and Elisif were fully naked. “Ah, hello.” The one with the warhammer. They were very large, with some very nice braids. “Fancy meeting people here.” The woman with the Hagraven head attached to their hip was quick to jump in. “Do you all happen to know the way to Whiterun from here?” She was bald and wearing some very lovely earrings. Elisif forgot her nakedness for a moment and stared at them. The woman looked nervous, and Elisif realized a naked woman staring at you in broad daylight might be a bit much. “Your earrings are marvelous.” Elisif said. The orc covered them for a moment before she frowned. “Elisif? From Dragon’s Bridge?” Her hands still covered her earrings. “Yes.” Elisif hadn’t been known for being from Dragon’s Bridge in some years. “You probably don’t remember me, but I’m Zugh-” “Gilgar! Yes, I remember.” Elisif smiled. “I heard you moved to Riverrun.” Zugh shrugged. “Turns out there aren’t enough orcs in Riverrun for us to be comfortable. Aunt ended up bringing us back to Karthspire.” Elisif gasped. “But after what happened to your father?” Zugh sighed, relieved. “Thank you. My Aunt was my mother’s sister- she didn’t particularly care. Anyway, their restoration and alteration magic is next to none.” “I am glad.” Elisif nodded. “I found out there was someone in Riften who was doing the same thing.” “Yeah, but you have to pay out of the nose for it.” Zugh shrugged. “Anyway, I was able to leave before anyone took offense at my presence. I ended up in Windhelm. I got to talk to an actual priestess, finally.” “Were they kind?” Elisif asked. “I hear such awful things about Windhelm.” She had sat through several of her father-in-law’s council sessions as Dunmer had tried to petition for citizenship. Windhelm was the only hold that would grant citizenship to displaced Dunmer from Morrowind. The decision had been made by one of Ulfric’s predecessors, and Ulfric had refused to rescind it. The citizens of Windhelm resented this even more after the Great War- which made little to no sense to Elisif. They were from opposite sides of Tamriel. Citizenship to a hold meant you didn’t have to pay a merchant’s tax between holds- which was required if you carried possessions worth over a hundred gold. For the Dunmer who spent most of their gold on travel and bread, yet would carry an antique staff from their grandparents, this could mean being stuck in a hold with no way of leaving, nor anyway of finding work. Citizenship was also required to buy or rent housing. Markarth had the Warrens, The Rift had the Ratway- but most holds did not have a way for non-citizens to sleep or stay in their holds. It was one of Torygg’s disagreements with his father- who would send the homeless to one of the mines in Markarth or Dawnstar. Torygg wished to build or fund places where a person could earn citizenship or live until they were able to raise enough money to go. His father disagreed so completely that when he handed Torygg’s training over to Falk- he expressly forbade Falk from allowing Torygg to take control of building projects. Falk held out after her father-in-law’s death. “They have that settlement Narzulbar a bit south. They are used to Orcs coming and going. Not to mention- it wasn’t like they were going to turn away anyone looking for information on Talos.” Her companion snorted. “Not that they gave her enough information. Do any of you Nords actually have information on how Talos became a Divine, or are you all taking it on faith?” Elisif sighed. “I’m not a Talos worshipper.” “Not all Nords are, you know.” Zugh said. “Or do you think all Orcs worship Malacath?” The orc wrinkled their nose. “Point taken.” “Gra’zog doesn’t like daedra.” “Experience.” Elisif tilted her head. “Are you a Vigilant of Stendarr?” She tried to pull on her clothes as she talked- but the fabric was just soddened enough to make the whole process uncomfortable and embarrassing. Cicero continued to recline in the nude- silent. “Didn’t know they had a faction this far North.” They shook their heads. “They take Orcs?” Elisif fell on her rear into the lake while trying to tug her trousers up. She sank a good few inches in mud. She just sighed and wrapped her arms around herself. She would have to take another bath. “They have a lot of Dunmer in their ranks,” Elisif said slowly. “I don’t see why they wouldn’t have Orismer. They don’t really seem to care about cultural religious backgrounds.” “They won’t be bothered if I worship Akatosh?” “You’d have to ask them.” Zugh elbowed her friend. “See you have a place to go after this.” Zugh winked at Elisf. “They’ve been arguing with me nonstop since we got back from the Hagravens. They won’t join the Stormcloaks, because Talos doesn’t count as a real Divine- but they can’t go back to any of the Orc Strongholds, because of Malacath.” Elisif gave a weak smile and tried not to shudder. She looked at Zugh and had a foreboding thought. “Are you joining the Stormcloaks?” Elisif asked. “No.” Zugh shook her head. “Stormcloaks aren’t doing shit about the Foresworn- neither is the Empire. I thought I would join the Companions. They still take contracts in the Reach.” She patted the Hagraven head tied to her belt. The face was grotesque, and flies buzzed around it. “Heard a couple of the companions are collecting the Hagraven heads- putting them on the roof of Jorvasskr.” Elisif froze- her mind conjured the image of a building. Flames and lightning danced in the air and Elisif felt herself falling deeper into the water. The next thing she knew, the Orcs were gone, she was dry, and Cicero was curled up around her back. Her clothes were on, but she still felt cold. “Is Elisif awake?” Cicero asked her. “Finally. Cicero can not be repaid if Elisif continues to lose focus.” Elisif didn’t say anything, just curled around her frozen hands.--- They eventually found Falkreath. It was a quaint, wooden town. Elisif looked around and was horrified that this was the border town between the Empire and Skyrim. Elisif had seen Falk sign off on money to repair and defend this town, so Windhelm didn’t flank Balgruuf. When the guard came out to greet them and asked Elisif about a dog Elisif was placed into some sort of stunned agony, only helped by her previous bout of lost time. The guard was also not very quick to hide his amulet of Talos. Cicero whistled as he brought the wagon into town, next to a little inn. Elisif felt so calm and numb she didn’t quite know what to do with herself. She didn’t get down with Cicero, just stayed sitting on top of the cart. Elisif looked around her- noticing and listening to everything. Unlike Morthal, the guards were not vigilant- there were several with their bows out and practicing shooting birds out of the sky. Each arrow arched up into the air to land on someone’s roof. Elisif could hear the hammering of the blacksmith at his forge. Each blow rang out through the trees. She could also hear the sound of Arkay’s last rights being spoken- And growling? Elisif felt a sense of dread come over her- unlike the fear that had been haunting her for the past two days- this dread ran through her veins like fire. Runrunrunrunrunrunrunrunrunrunrunrunrunrunrunrunrun There was an impetuous need to leap and the need was pounding with the underlying growl that came from just beyond her ability to divine its direction. Finally, a scream came from the other end of the village. A furry figure was running towards Elisif, but more importantly- An Imperial girl, with a merchant’s child clothing and clutching a dark wooden sword. Elisif did not hesitate to not think through her next step. She jumped out of the cart, picked up the little girl- and threw her into the cart. Once Elisif finished trading places with the girl, there was only one thing left to do- run. Elisif, on sore legs and blistered feet, ran. The growling and snarling from behind her were causing her heartbeat to echo in her skull. Her feet slid into the mud- her boots only received minor repairs (bad ones, according to Cicero). A snarl from her left made her turn to her right. She started to stumble and zig-zag as she attempted to stay on her feet- weariness and uncertain footing made It impossible to walk in a straight line. At the sound of claws coming from her left, she threw herself behind some trees from the right. She heard bark and wood shatter as she scooted herself back and pulled out the dagger she had gotten in Morthal. Her stronger daggers were lost somewhere in Whiterun Hold. It was the only weapon that she had kept with her. It was iron, weak—and the blade was barely bigger than her hand. She rolled to the side, cursing the fact she did not remove her boots. As she looked up, she saw a werewolf in beast form- for the first time in her life. The beast was taller than her- fur matted and tangled. Blood was slowly trickling down furry and thick skin from where broken arrows stuck out of the meat of his shoulders. The monster was breathing heavily- its chest was moving like great bellows. Its cock was unsheathed, pink and glistening. Elisif wasn’t sure where to avert her gaze. The monster was also standing completely upright, which Elisif was confused by. The monster’s claws were long and dripped a rust-like liquid- the same liquid that dropped from its teeth. Elisif made herself look at the werewolf, all of it. It was the shorter than a troll, but unlike the troll, it was top-heavy. Elisif didn’t have backup nor a sword- but the fact the werewolf was shorter than a frost troll was comforting. It had not been running smoothly, it was injured. Unlike the frost troll, it looked like the werewolf had parts that were completely unarmored by thick fur- though trying to get through its muscle with her dagger would take work. It was also staring at her- yellow eyes gleaming. The tension in the air was building. Elisif had a moment of hope when the werewolf went still, thinking he would transform back. However, the fur on the back of its neck was standing on end, and his chest was swelling- a deep rumble going through the body. Elisif was not strong enough to overpower it. She was not fast enough to outrun it, nor did she have the endurance. Her legs were the strongest part of her- she had swam and walked in armor for too long for her legs to be anything but iron. They were her best chance. Elisif remembered the way the Thalmor’s neck had cracked under her arm. The way she had increased the pressure on her arm to strangle- then crack his spine. Elisif looked around through the corner of her eyes. She would have one shot at this- so she did what she was told never to do. She threw her only weapon. The hilt hit the creature’s eye, making him flinch backward a few steps. Elisif jumped to the first branch she could get her hands on and threw her legs over the werewolf’s shoulders. Unprepared for the movement, the werewolf did not stay upright as Elisif had expected. Elisif could barely wrap her legs around his neck before the werewolf fell sideways. Elisif focused all her energy on hooking her ankles together and aligning her knees with the werewolf’s trachea. The werewolf started gnashing his teeth and swinging with his claws, but one arm was stuck under Elisif’s torso. Elisif increased the pressure on his trachea and wrapped the top of her body over his head. Snapping his mouth closed- it also had the added benefit of making sure his claws were not hitting her with any accuracy. Elisif felt a claw nick her shoulder, then another claw nicked her ear. The werewolf’s whole body shuddered, limbs going akimbo trying to fight for air. That wasn’t what Elisif was looking for, though. She pressed her knees together as tight as she could, and she wrenched her legs to the side. It took a few tries before she heard the crack. The body went limp. Elisif shuddered and threw herself off the werewolf. She was dizzy and bleeding. She looked around her. The sun was still up. The sky was cloudless- and she could hear the buzzing of bees in her ears. She saw her iron dagger lying nearby. She had to finish the job- the werewolf might still be alive. She stumbled over to the dagger, which was lying in the middle of the path. She picked it up and stumbled back, blood pouring down her face. She took the dagger and wandered back to the werewolf. She tried to take a handful of his fur many times before she was able to get enough of a grip to turn his head. As with the Thalmor, the werewolf’s eyes were moving- tears running from them. The eyes changed from yellow to blue to yellow again. Elisif could see the humanity in its eyes. But she had also felt the weight of the child in her arms in Falkreath. She took the knife and slammed it into the left eye, followed by the right. She wasn’t sure she would be able to get around the fur to slit the creature’s throat, so she traced the bottom of the maw with her knife- deciding the path for herself. She slammed the dagger into the bottom of the mouth and pulled, until the bottom of the face and the beginning of the throat were divided. She sat panting next to the corpse until she heard a slight clapping from over her shoulder. Soft leather gloves didn’t make a lot of noise, but Elisif was on high alert. She looked over her shoulder to see a tall figure in form-fitting leather armor standing next to another werewolf. One that quickly transformed into a Nord- with long white hair. He seemed familiar. “That was one of the best amateur kills I’ve ever seen.” Said the voice that was muffled beneath the mask. “I don’t like other people taking my kills.” The werewolf mumbled, but he came over and examined the corpse, turning it over with a bare foot. “Ah, yeah- that would explain a lot.” The man tilted his head towards the dead werewolf’s claw. “That right there is one of Hircine’s gifts. You’re lucky we were here; you might have been “gifted” something else.” Elisif stood, sore. “I’ve got to move the corpse.” The man said. “It died too close to home. Astrid, you want to take care of the girl.” “Take care of?” Astrid purred, pulling down her mask. “After that kill? After I saw all that desperation and rage- combined with that beautiful if foolhardy plan? Husband, I am hoping she will take care of me.” Astrid’s voice was soft and gentle. Her words were playful, but her tone never deviated from serious. Astrid’s husband snorted. “This is Skyrim. Everyone kills like that.” Astrid clucked at him. She walked towards Elisif. She reached out and caressed her face, thumb dipping into the blood of one of the claw marks. “There is so much potential, so much power.” Elisif was stunned. She had never been called powerful before.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Cicero was not sad to see the pretty Elisif go. He was never sad about anything. He was a jester! He was an assassin! He had a purpose. He watched his mother; he oiled and cleaned his mother. He was entirely satisfied. It was just that sometimes, Cicero could feel his mind wander down paths that would leave his sweet {silent} mother all alone. It was best if there were others. Cicero had been unsure, but pretty Elisif with her green eyes and her many freckles. - the way she spoke as if so friendly and unsure- It was unbearably precious. Sometimes it was an annoyance- but it was mostly precious. Cicero was planning to get very rich, by setting Elisif up in a room and then have one of his brothers and sisters come down and turn her in- but Elisif didn’t have to know Cicero was going to betray her. He could visit. He could write! There was no reason to discontinue the friendship. He would have his brothers and sisters, but after he had been BETRAYED by his last two, Cicero felt it would be good to have some other friends. Someone he could visit- have tea with, perhaps. Cicero felt a pang of disappointment when he heard screaming in the streets. He rushed out with the rest of the townsfolk, only to see Elisif swing a child out of the way and run into the woods. Cicero sighed a bit at that. He would have to wait until it was safe to take mother across. Cicero couldn’t risk his mother. [Cicero felt bad about Elisif]. Hearing nothing, Cicero eventually jumped into his cart and headed to the Falkreath Sanctuary. [Alone, but not Alone.] Idle curiosity, nothing more, made Cicero track Elisif’s half-collapsed boots up the trail, for every three steps of Elisif’s, Cicero saw the deep gouges of the four-legged gate of a werewolf. Cicero barely restrained himself- [Cicero did not restrain himself.] The ground beneath the trees was covered in blood, but little of it had the iron smell of human blood. Quite a bit of it had the smell of wet dog. Two other people came to see the fight, Cicero discovered. One was barefoot- the other wore- A pair of his sister’s shoes. Cicero hummed and looked about the area. He was not far from the Falkreath Sanctuary by his own reckoning. A different pair of feet led away from the fighting area, while the bare feet walked towards- Cicero nearly skipped back to his cart, forcing the nag to gallop the last bit of road to the door. He wasted precious time getting the stupid passphrase out before he ran into the sanctuary. He went silently, crouching low. As he walked downstairs, he saw Elisif [pretty and splattered in blood! She lived long enough for help to come against a werewolf. But the Speaker of the Sanctuary wouldn’t have brought Elisif- wouldn’t have saved Elisif.] Cicero was torn. Elisif was seated in a chair behind a large stone table- a young child [no Cicero, remember the books, one of the unchildren.} was handing her a cup. “SISTER!” Cicero immediately shouted, doing a little jig. The undead child didn’t flinch, but Elisif- holding the cup- jerked her hand, spilling the liquid all over her leather armor [unfashionable and should be ruined.] The Speaker of the Sanctuary appeared suddenly. Her eyes were bright, alive things [unlike mother’s]. “Keeper, we weren’t expecting you so early in the day.” Astrid spared a glance to the side. Elisif seemed slightly stunned, but Cicero was grateful she didn’t seem eager to speak. “Cicero came in Falkreath early with his new friend.” Cicero’s hand gesture was not missed by Astrid. Astrid’s voice went low and seductive [ugh Cicero was- Cicero wasn’t sure if anyone could touch him like that anymore. The very idea. Cicero couldn’t even look at Elisif for more than a few moments without shaking. Cicero would find someone with a nice cock once he was feeling better- someone whose voice was deep, powerful like Elisif’s friend.] “Your new ‘friend’ killed a werewolf,” Astrid said, smiling. Cicero dearly hoped he misremembered reading Astrid had married a werewolf. “My husband has taken care of the body. We were just about to take care of your new friend.” “Cicero does not think that will be necessary.” Cicero gave his loudest laugh- not meant in play, but in menace. “Cicero takes care of his own people.” Cicero was never tense, but something like tension slipped out of him when he saw Astrid gesture for the undead child to step away from Cicero’s friend. “My mother!” Cicero said, pretending alarm. “I left her all alone outside!” “Our mother should be brought in, after being unguarded for so long.” Astrid nodded. Cicero bared his teeth. She called for some of Cicero’s other brothers and sisters. Cicero took the opportunity to walk over to Elisif and bend down next to her ear. He was careful not to touch her. “Elisif should be very, very still- and let Cicero help her,” Cicero whispered. “Do not say your name, do not touch anyone. Elisif should be very polite. This is Cicero’s family and Cicero’s family is not as polite as Cicero is.” Cicero flicked a knife out of his sleeve and used the flat to tap Elisif’s cheek. Elisif seemed to understand- though how much Cicero was unsure. “Keeper.” Astrid’s voice came from behind Cicero. “Perhaps you would like to speak with me, Nazir can keep your friend comfortable.” “Cicero would be happy to leave her in the hands of his brother.” Cicero gave a slight look at Nazir. He was a handsome fellow. [Perhaps, that looked like a man who would enjoy puns.} Cicero and Astrid walked side-by-side up the narrow stairs. A few other brotherhood members were using magic to transport his mother. “You know a bounty is going around for a red-headed Nord named Elisif.” Astrid stood with him next to a black pool. Cicero hummed to himself. “Yet, no one has claimed the bounty- and its been out for more than a month.” “Is that your doing?” Astrid asked. “Because of poor Cicero?” Cicero cackled. “No! Cicero has only been traveling with Elisif for a mere fraction of the time. But we have seen many people, and many people have seen the Jarl of Solitude- the High Queen even! They have not given her a second glance.” “Seems like the ideal solution was to drop her off at an inn and ‘arrange’ for the bounty to be picked up.” Astrid tilted her head. “Cicero was going to! Cicero was not inside the inn for five minutes. There was a werewolf and Elisif was off into the woods!” Cicero threw up his hands. “And now Astrid has been so kind as to bring her inside a sanctuary.” “You like this girl?” Astrid waved a hand as if bringing a victim inside the sanctuary was in any way sane. “Cicero is fond, he supposes. But more importantly, the girl OWES Cicero. Cicero has kept her safe. Cicero has shared food! Gold! Cicero has even helped her with her boots.” “They must have been in pretty bad shape if that was a ‘fixed’ version.” Astrid’s voice turned dry. “Cicero thanks his sister for not questioning his skills. Yes, Cicero could only do so much. They were terrible. But if Cicero is not getting a coin from poor Elisif, Cicero must get something else.” “You want her as a recruit? She’s wanted all over Skyrim.” “This is nothing new.” Cicero wanted to screech, but he knew he was throwing away a lot of his pre-determined goodwill with this. “She was able to speak naked to someone who knew her as a child. Their friend, nor they noticed she was naked- nor connected her to the Jarl of Solitude.” “You think she has the Night Mother’s Blessing?” Astrid looked a bit unsure. “It’s been years since the Night Mother has-” “Cicero is never noticed unless he wishes to be.” Cicero pointed out. “Does the Speaker think Cicero’s outfit is subtle?” Astrid sighed. “She did kill a werewolf- with no real weapon but her body even.” Astrid pulled out the iron dagger Cicero had seen Elisif religiously sharpening. “She broke its neck with her legs. Twenty ways it could have gone wrong, but her instincts are good.” “Her friends had been training her as a swordswoman.” Astrid wrinkled her nose. Cicero was very grateful the Speaker was seeing the reason in this. “She has the fingers of a lockpick.” Astrid used the dagger to tap her lower lip. “We don’t have a specialist in that. “ “Cicero was thinking of teaching her the bow.” Astrid tilted her head back and forth, obviously wavering. “If it goes badly, Cicero is very happy to kill a traitor to mother,” Cicero said, ambiguous about the identity of the traitor. Astrid clucked her tongue at him. Cicero felt a warm rush of brotherhood. “You don’t get to go out on contracts, you’re the Keeper- you stay the Keeper.” “Of course, of course,” Cicero said consolingly. “We send her after someone innocent first.” Astrid decided. “You get two months to train her- but she goes out on her own. Gabriella will follow her. If she can at least attempt a killing blow- I’ll let her join. Sithis knows we’ve had worse recruits than a woman who attempts to kill a werewolf with her thighs and stabs out his eyes to finish the job. I’ll let Nazir know. I’ll go over the rules with her- she’ll stay in one of the beds in the main room. Pity you couldn’t get coin for her- training recruits is always a headache.” Cicero gave a huge grin. “Cicero is so excited to make pretty Elisif pay for it.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
When Elisif killed the mudcrab and broke a werewolf’s neck with her legs, she came to the conclusion she had significant leg strength- or rather, her legs were as strong as she was going to get.She had been wrong. Elisif was pretending she was not being trained with the Dark Brotherhood, the same way she had pretended she had been High Queen. She focused on the moment, mirroring Cicero’s every movement until she could copy the movements without trembling. Squatting with one leg at a ninety degree angle and the other raised off the floor was a good way to learn how far Elisif had to go. Cicero had been aghast at the way Tyre had taught her to sneak. She, apparently, moved like a mammoth with an ax- ready to overcome obstacles with sheer force. Cicero was teaching her to move the correct way, the way that would allow her to move without being seen or heard. If Tyre had not already told her that running or sneaking was the best option in a fight, Elisif would have refused on principle. She had seen the value of being able to run from a fight- as opposed to being forced to kill. Elisif was also pretending she had not killed the werewolf. It made everyone’s life in the Sanctuary easier- and Elisif did not want to die before she turned the Dark Brotherhood into General Tullius. It was the only chance of her getting some respect from the Empire, enough to bargain for a life without being watched constantly. She couldn’t count on Tyre coming to her defense after she abandoned him. (These people had been kinder to her than General Tullius ever had been.) Cicero spent days teaching her how to crouch, how to freeze. He had her climb the walls of the sanctuary, climb trees- and sit very still as he continued to throw rocks at her. He threw rock after rock at her until three months went by. The only free time Elisif had was when Cicero led meditations to the Night Mother an hour before dawn. In the beginning, Elisif used that time to sleep- but eventually, she turned the time into bathing and doing her hair. She would slide into the chilly water listening to the muffled incantations of Cicero, the coffin of the Nightmother creating a shadow over the Sanctuary. Only Gabriella and Festus ended up going to the meditations at first. The common thought (which none of the Brotherhood would say in front of Cicero but were more than willing to say in front of Elisif) was that the Night Mother was a desiccated old corpse- which the leader (Astrid, she had taken Elisif aside and ‘discussed’ things with her) was the most adamant on. Cicero was intent upon waiting upon someone- who Astrid was claiming didn’t exist. The title went in one of Elisif’s ear, and out the other. The tune of everyone started to change when Festus started becoming spryer. Aches and pains that had bothered him for decades no longer touched him. The limp he had gotten from having a knee dislocated multiple times transformed into a steady and long stride. His experiments started to create more of a bang in the sanctuary. Cicero received an enchanted dagger that shocked Elisif with a touch- causing her vision to go black. It was the strongest enchantment Cicero had seen, and it had taken Festus a petty soul gem to do it.Gabriella came back from a trip (Elisif didn’t know from where) and came and laid Nightshade at the bottom of the Nightmother’s coffin. Elisif didn’t hear the story directly, but apparently Gabriella was able to out sneak a dragon. Babette, who Elisif recognized as a vampire now, was rather indifferent to the whole mess. She did go up and talk to Cicero and the Night Mother while Cicero put Elisif through a series of stretches that were only impossible for people with bones. Babette was kind to Elisif, in the way a person was kind to a toddler. Elisif had the sense she was being treated as a child but was encouraged by the attention and kindness she received. Cicero still referred to Babette as the ‘unchild’, but Babette looked as if she took that as a sign of respect. Cicero was not getting along with the Sanctuary. Elisif wondered if that had to do with Cicero himself, or whatever being a “Keeper” meant. Cicero continued to try and give council to Astrid- and Astrid continued to treat Cicero as if he was a madman. Which, unfortunately for everyone, he was not. A madman would have set Elisif loose on the world with little to no training- Cicero was very particular about Elisif’s. “This is a longbow.” Cicero held the bow out to Elisif. “It is the worst kind of bow in Tamriel.” Cicero held out the piece of wood in disgust and shook it- prompting Elisiif to take it. “Cicero will train Elisif how to use the longbow- and maybe, one day-” Cicero cackled to himself, “Elisif will get a better bow and know how to use it.” The bow was a long piece of wood, about as tall as Elisif’s shoulder. Cicero handed Elisif a long-coiled string and gestured for her to string it. The next forty-five minutes, before she asked for help, were much more humbling than the first mudcrab incident, if less injurious. Cicero eventually had pity on her. He showed her how to take care of the string and how she needed to string the bow. Cicero went over the different bows and how Elisif should change her technique with each. His calloused hands firm and soothing on her wrists and palms. Elisif felt the need to write it down- but she learned very early on that she was not allowed to have paper nor charcoal nor ink. Hours later, Cicero went through the proper position for holding and drawing a bow. Each time Cicero moved to rearrange her, he asked for permission to touch. He told Elisif exactly what he was going to do and then quickly removed his hands. Elisif found it odd- but relaxing as well. Her shoulders, which had been tense and straight through her entire marriage, slowly started to relax. Even Astrid and Arnbjorn, whom Elisif understood were married, asked permission to touch each other in public. Astrid explained it wasn’t part of the Five Tenents, but rather a way to respect and honor your brothers and sisters. Astrid had explained many things to Elisif. Some of the things were simple, other ways to organize her hair- other potions to comb through it- Astrid would sit by Elisif during the meditation times and show her how to lace lockpicks in her hair and how to hide daggers in her breast bindings. Different herbs and plants allowed you to remain clean over long periods- the way frostbite venom could be used to clean the infection out of a wound. Astrid also discussed birth control with Elisif- the first time anyone had even told her she could stop her periods.Astrid was more to Elisif than their morning conversations and the calloused hands in Elisif’s hair. Astrid would laugh with her, talk with her. It was clear that there was never going to be a meeting of equals- but unlike Torygg, Astrid would give her information freely. Astrid talked about problems with supply lines and the going cost of assassinations. Astrid spoke of the different places she had been- and she listened to how Elisif talked about Morthal and Whiterun hold. Elisif would forget Astrid was an assassin. Even when Astrid would speak of knives and poisons- murder was never on Elisif’s mind. Elisif would just admire a woman at her trade. It was not till night came to the Sanctuary- when everyone was lying in their beds- snores and whines echoing through the sanctuary, that Elisif allowed herself to remember the reasons she could not love Astrid.Once Cicero had started teaching her the bow, he did not keep a strict eye on her during her leg and movement exercises. Elisif didn’t mind until she had to go over new forms and continued to fall down. The twentieth time she fell, she landed face first into the dirt- and burst out into tears. She was able to stop crying on her own, but it took ten minutes to able to get back into the beginning position- which was supposed to help her balance on a moving surface.It was only when she started moving again that Astrid made herself known. She had been gone for the past two days- and her outfit was filthy- covered in dirt and leaves. She was silent and her eyes steady.“Elisif, you need to relax.” Astrid’s voice was commanding, but it rolled through Elisif’s veins like syrup. This was a master speaking on her craft- not a woman speaking to a child. “All your weight in lower down- so you need to keep your hips moving, and your shoulders relaxed.” Astrid moved into the position described. Elisif watched how she walked, the way her feet shifted and rolled to the movement of her body.Elisif moved into the mirror image of Astrid.“May I touch you?” Astrid asked. Elisif nodded.“I am going to change the positions of your arms and legs and adjust your shoulders and knees.” Astrid did as she said. Her hands were still gloved, and Elisif could smell the iron tang of blood and waste. Elisif pretended not to notice the slight tremor of Astrid’s hands- the bags under her eyes- and the half drooping eyelids that Elisif knew were from fatigue and not for seduction. Still, Astrid worked with Elisif until she understood how to move the way Cicero had wanted her to.“It’s like sewing,” Astrid said. “Expecting the pieces to look like the final product while putting them together is folly until you reach the end.”Elisif nodded and went through the motions repeatedly as Astrid sat on a ledge nearby, leaning back on her hands. Elisif didn’t realize she had fallen asleep until Arnbjorn came looking for her- deep circles under his eyes as well. He didn’t ask to touch or wake Astrid, he just picked her up gently.When he turned around to head back into their rooms, it was clear he didn’t see Elisif going through the movements- but he didn’t jump or flinch.“She doesn’t sleep easy after long jobs,” Arnbjorn said after a tense silence. “She’ll forgive me, this one was supposed to be pretty hard.”Elisif didn’t say anything. Arnbjorn just grunted and moved around her. He didn’t usually address her- except to call her tidbit or morsel. Elisif was okay with that because he was taking care of Astrid.---Once Elisif could pull the bow back fully and not stick herself with arrows, Cicero sent her out Spriggan hunting. The first time this occurred, Elisif was tempted to run to Falkreath and try and get a hold of an imperial soldier- but her time in the wild had been enlightening. She had no food or coin. She doubted she could outrun Cicero or Arnbjorn. If she ran it would be her against eight highly trained assassins- all with years of experience versus her pitiful amount of training.Falkreath was a heavily forested area- and Babette had mentioned needing potion ingredients. The first time Elisif was sent out she was treed by a couple black bears- and Arnbjorn had to come get her out. He showed her the marks and signs in the forest that showed there were bears about.The second time Elisif found out she was allergic to bees and had to crawl back on her hands and knees to the sanctuary- nearly falling and drowning in the small pond. Babette had found her that time- and had showed her how to pull out the stingers for herself. Babette was put out by it though- and watched over Elisif as she went through some fields for her- pulling blue mountain flowers from each thorny bush.The third time she was pushed outside, a spriggan found Elisif- broke her bow and smacked her over the head with a limb. No one came for her that time. Elisif woke up a day later and walked back to the sanctuary in time for her to get an hour of rest. Arnbjorn made her tan leather until she covered the cost of a new bow. He also told her he would give her an elven bow is she brought him some wolf pelts next time- thirty-six of them in fact.Elisif, who had learned from the wood chopping incident, told Arnbjorn he could shove it up his ass- If she had thirty-six wolf hides she didn’t need to bother getting a bow from him. She could walk to Falkreath and get a bow and some gold. Arnbjorn considered that for a moment. His eyebrow was raised- like he was laughing at her.“Sure, you could, pipsqueak. Get me fifteen wolf skins- I’ll get you an elven bow and some steel arrows.”When Cicero sent her out of the Sanctuary that day, Elisif felt nervous. She didn’t like the idea of disappointing Cicero- but she couldn’t continue to beat her head against the wall with the Spriggan.Then she heard the words Cicero said- “Do whatever it takes to bring Cicero a Spriggan Head.” Elisif nearly smacked herself. Deep in her gut, she had started feeling disappointed in herself- upset she couldn’t achieve the very basic goal given. These people expected her to be an assassin. Cicero had not put a time limit on it either.But assassins didn’t throw themselves at the enemy head on- the point was to be unseen and successful- not honorable. Babette didn’t overwhelm her marks with sheer strength- nor did she attack out in the open.For the next few days, Elisif looked around the forest and watched. She gathered wolf hides- throwing the carcasses over her shoulders and climbing up trees to skin them- avoiding the signs of bears.There was a spriggan nest across the road from the Sanctuary- though she had been told not to touch that one- instead she put herself in a tree and sat very, very still- just like she was trained.The Spriggan was fast and mostly peaceful. It didn’t attack Elisif- even though Elisif was sure it saw her. The spriggan didn’t attack anyone who didn’t enter her area- to the regret of a young adventurer for hire. He pulled out a short dwarven sword and attacked the thing. Elisif sat still in the tree, tears streaming down her face- knowing she couldn’t help.The Spriggan used magic, was the first thing Elisif really noticed. It did a version of the destruction spell her Kajhit friend in Morthal used to kill the crab. When the young man got too close, the spriggan slashed him open with their arm like limbs. The bow would be useful, but Elisif would have to learn how to find a Spriggan without getting too close to it.By the time she had gotten the bow, she was ready to attempt to find a spriggan again. Elisif did everything correctly- but her aim was deplorable, and she ended up on the ground with her head bleeding by the time Vezeera found her.“This is getting ridiculous,” Vezeera said, standing out of the way of Elisif’s post-concussion vomiting. “I’m taking over. “Vezeera took her back to the sanctuary and made her heal herself- then handed her two sticks.“Get in position.” Vezeera said- then used the flats of his two silver daggers to beat her black and blue.Elisif was familiar with Lukiul, Argonians from outside the Black Marsh. They had been well-known and sought after for the crews for the East Empire trading Company. They were openly hostile to the Dunmer, but seeing as they numbered few among Solitude’s citizens, Elisif was unaware of many problems outside of the arrangements Winterhold had with the Dunmer. Due to the constant infighting between the Dunmer and the Lukiul, the Jarl had said if Solitude did not reign in its workers, the next High King would be anyone but Istold’s son. At the time, that was a significant threat- seeing as Solitude had to maintain negotiating power with the Empire (Elisif was told it was for Skyrim’s sake- but Elisif was starting to wonder now). Istold had placed a hefty fine on any violence laid on Winterhold’s people- including self-defense.Several Lukiul had left- leaving the settlement area cleared. The remaining Lukiul moved into town- or took up farming near the Karth. Elisif had the manners of the Black Marsh drilled into her from when Torygg had worn an Amulet of Mara. Solitude’s trade depended on the Lukiul’s goodwill.From what Elisif understood, however, Vezeera was not Lukiul, but rather Saxhleel, born in Black Marsh and having a bond to the Hist. Elisif had often wished for something like the Hist to take charge of Skyrim- to unite the people in one idea and purpose. Torygg, when she told him, laughed. He pointed out Alduin and his army had been Skyrim’s Hist- and that Torygg didn’t think the ancient lives were any easier than Elisif and Torygg’s were now.Vezeera, despite his connection to the Hist, did not act much different than any Lukiul Elisif had met. Vezeera was kind and peaceful and enjoyed beating her with the flats of his blade. He then liked to make her climb up to high points in the sanctuary and sit still for hours.Vezeera would wake her up in early mornings to do so- and Cicero took exception to this. Once Cicero had finished the morning’s meditations (which Vezeera was attending) Cicero would look to find Elisif for archery lessons. Elisif would have to sit as still as she could- hoping against hope Cicero didn’t see her.Cicero was not gentle when he forced Elisif down. Elisif didn’t think it had anything to do with her- but Cicero hated Vezeera with a passion. Cicero started with whining about how he was supposed to be teaching Elisif, though he stopped the train of thought quickly- Vezeera could not be guilted, nor moved by jealousy or pride.Astrid only gave one comment- which was that Elisif only had to listen to Cicero, she could quit Vezeera’s tutelage whenever she wanted.Cicero, changing tactics, offered a bet of three sweet rolls to whoever could get Elisif knocked off one of her perches first. Elisif had looked to Vezeera for help- but he just said the practice would be good for her.Festus and Gabriella, through joint effort, found and knocked Elisif down the first day. Gabriella cast Detect Life, and Festus sent a bolt of lightning next to Elisif’s ear- where she was on a small ledge on top of a Word Wall.Vezeera gave her a healing potion, and Cicero went and got six sweet rolls. Vezeera sat with her a moment as her headache went away- then asked- “Do you want to continue the lessons, sister?” Vezeera’s voice was calming. Elisif considered that. Cicero and Astrid seemed done with her- outside of making sure she practiced her archery and sneaking. Elisif missed not being bruised all over and her muscles not stiffening from being in one position for hours. But Elisif also knew, once she turned the Dark Brotherhood into General Tullius, that she might be put in the Blue Palace again- most likely with a guard. While those hours sitting as still as she could be uncomfortable- they were restful. Learning how to be unseen may keep her sane. Learning daggers may keep her alive from another assassin. “Yes.” Elisif got up and pulled out her iron dagger from Morthal, and a Bone Dagger Arnbjorn had made for her after she got all the wolf hides. Vezeera started talking her through how to remain unseen when they fought. To Elisif’s surprise, this improved her knife work significantly. Astrid, once she saw it, mentioned Elisif probably needed more than one thing to focus on at a time. Elisif didn’t understand until Babette started giving her a potion each morning and Vezeera started working her harder during the day. Babette would come down and lecture Elisif at the same time- talking about different plants and animals around Skyrim. Elisif found herself improving quickly. Vezeera’s knives were still too fast, his hits still hurt, but Elisif wasn’t getting hit as much- and the hits weren’t always direct. Elisif was exhausted, so exhausted she didn’t notice when Vezeera dropped her at the breakfast table with the rest of the brotherhood after a practice session. She was too busy gulping down as much ale as she could- and stuffing cheese in her mouth. She felt a nudge at her ribs when she was taking a breath. She looked to see Cicero grinning like a maniac beside her, along with the rest of the Brotherhood sitting around the table. Cicero giggled. “Cicero’s lessons did not leave Elisif so impolite- manners are needed to delight.” Nazir groaned. “That was bad.” “If Nazir can do better, he should try.” The whole table chuckled, including Cicero. Elisif was too tired to grin. “Elisif should have stayed with Cicero, not BETRAYED him with the lizard.” Vezeera gave a little hiss and stuck out his tongue but was eating fish and chicken eggs quickly. “She’s getting a lot better; I can see your style of fighting.” Cicero ignored the olive branch and continued to harass Elisif for a few minutes. Elisif didn’t mind- she didn’t even mind that Cicero elbowed her and threw an arm over her shoulder without asking- which Elisif didn’t have to ask was rude. “You know, sister,” Festus said, sipping some sort of hot tea. “You can give him a little shock if you like. A little destruction magic would do well to teach the Keeper some of his own manners. “ Cicero drew back with an affronted gasp. “I can’t do magic,” Elisif said once she had finished shoving some sort of rolled cabbage and sausage in her mouth. She didn’t mention her few lessons and that ‘spell’ she learned in Labyrinthian. Astrid spit out her drink. There were shocked looks around the table. “That,” Arnbjorn said slowly “Actually explains a lot.” Babette shook her head. “I told you we were missing something.” Festus snorted. “Do you at least know some Illusion magic- what about the muffle spell?” Elisif sighed, remembering Tyre bringing it up. She shook her head. Cicero’s head hit the table. Astrid looked at Cicero and said, “Well, you were right, she’s got to have someone’s blessing.” “I can share the mornings with Cicero,” Vezeera said, sopping up the remains of his breakfast with some bread. “Gabriella and Festus can have her in the afternoons.” “What about my experiments?” Festus complained. “They are in a delicate stage-” Nazir looked up from his breakfast and gave him a calm look. Festus started grumbling to himself. Elisif wanted to be able to look at someone like that. “A good healing spell will probably do a better job than muffle.” Festus eventually said, thoughtfully. It was only then that Elisif said the worst words an apprentice could say- “I could do both.”DBDB Babette, a couple months later, rescued Elisif from magic lessons and gave Elisif the opportunity she needed. Babette needed to make a large order at Grave Concoctions in Falkreath. While the owner knew her as the daughter of an accomplished alchemist, but a small girl carting expensive alchemy ingredients without an escort was starting to attract some unwelcome attention. Elisif was becoming used to vampires, and it was easy enough to remember Babette was much older than her when she started talking about the Oblivion Crisis and the problems it caused in Coldharbour and the vampire community. Elisif didn’t bring any food with her, but Astrid did give her a few coins (“Spend it on something nice.”) Babette was a good conversationalist, and Elisif enjoyed talking to her. Falkreath was just as disappointing the second time around. Elisif was getting better at understanding military strategy, just from the marshal lessons she received- and she could tell Falkreath was in poor shape. Elisif from over a year ago would have not seen a problem- but Elisif now saw too many. The biggest one- the one that would make the Dragonborn hiss and Astrid laugh, was the weapons. There was a dragon crisis, and the best bows the guards had were long bows and hunting bows. The quivers were strapped on the guards incorrectly. Any amount of running or dodging would spill half those arrows out of the quivers. There were no spears or javelins. The biggest advantage Falkreath could have was taking out the enemy before it overcame the gates- but Falkreath had taken that advantage and whittled it down one poorly made arrow at a time. Elisif tried not to look at the swords, where rust was bleeding between the hilts and the sheaths. The sheaths themselves bounced so that Elisif was certain the sword did not fit the sheaths. The gently bred lady Falk had taken the time to sculpt was unnerved by the many rough characters walking about the place. Men walked about in fur coats and gold bracelets- a man had on the mismatched pieces of ebony, elven, and dwarven armor. A lot of farmers were moving their goats and cows through the street. It was much busier than the last time Elisif had exited, pursued by werewolf. “When did this happen?” Elisif asked. “I’m not sure,” Babette said quietly. “I don’t remember it being this bad the last couple of times. Do you want to ask, or should I?” Elisif looked about until she saw a group huddled by the Jarl’s Longhouse. It was led by a merchant yelling at a very irritated Legate. She bit her lip then tapped Babette’s shoulder. Babette nodded at her, winding her fist in Elisif’s shirt as she walked over, like a child holding onto their mother in a crowded room. Elisif straightened her back and took a step to march over. After half a second, she remembered how little it helped her. Falk had her stand straight and be uncomfortable so she would look like a King’s wife. Elisif didn’t need to look like a King’s wife- she needed to look unassuming and competent. Elisif stopped and tried to think. Babette tugged her shirt. “What are you waiting for?” “I don’t know how to walk! No one is going to listen to me.” Babette sputtered and hissed out; orange eyes glowing. “What do you mean you don’t know how to walk? You walked here didn’t you?” Elisif opened her mouth to explain, but Babette used the piece of cloth that she had wrapped around her hand to force Elisif to walk forward. Elisif tried not to panic. She didn’t know what to do with her limbs. Did she put her arms down by her sides? Babette wasn’t paying any attention to her till they got to the Legate and the Merchant. “Can we help you?” The merchant said with a scathing undertone. “We are trying to find a place to stay- seeing as you Nords cut off half the country.” Elisif gulped and Babette seemed to finally understand Elisif’s problem. “My mother is a bit shy,” Babette said quickly. “We were just curious about what was going on- last time I came to fetch ingredients, Falkreath was not as busy.” Elisif just nodded. The Legate sighed. “It isn’t news, I suppose. Whiterun and the Stormcloaks are embargoing the Empire. The Rift was taken by the Black-Briars, but Ulfric lost Winterhold and the Mage’s college. Everyone is frantically trying to be somewhere else. Whiterun still hasn’t even joined the Stormcloaks- they are just refusing to trade until Queen Elisif is produced.” Babette looked at Elisif, who shrugged. She had been in Whiterun, she didn’t know why Balgruuf wasn’t asking Tullius for her if he knew she wasn’t there. Elisif couldn’t remember the events, but if Tyre had been there- he would have told Balgruuf. That was the plan in any case. “Why is Bal- why is Whiterun asking for the Queen?” Elisif asked. “It’s the damn Dragonborn’s fault.” The merchant said, pulling at his hat. “He claims that Elisif wasn’t in Solitude last year. The man is a known Stormcloak! I’ve never known Balgruuf to be so foolish as to believe a Stormcloak.” A young Bosmer bard strummed his lute a bit. He didn’t look at Elisif. “The Greymanes are still living in Whiterun aren’t they?” “Aren’t they non-political?” “Their children aren’t.” A crowd had gathered around. The Legate sigh deepened. Elisif felt a little light-headed but not panicked- not with Babette’s hand fisted in her shirt. “The High Queen is of a delicate disposition.” The Legate pointed out. “She has been since her husband died. She isn’t up for large appearances these days. This has caused concerned parties to pursue information on the Queen’s health. General Tullius is trying to preserve the Queen’s privacy.” Elisif felt her mouth move before she could stop herself. “If she can’t be seen in public, why would the Empire support her reign?” The Legate froze for a minute. Babette pulled on Elisif’s shirt and glared at Elisif when she looked down. Elisif winced. She wouldn’t survive long enough to turn the Dark Brotherhood in if she kept opening her mouth. “Another Stormcloak supporter?” An Altmer farmer with his hand wrapped around a goat’s collar. “Why don’t you live under people who actively kill people for their religion and see how you like it compared to your Empire?” “We don’t like it at all- because the Empire let them come here.” A bosmer said, a War Hammer thrown over her back. “I didn’t walk all the way to Skyrim- and eat vegetables- to live in a place that lets the damn Thalmor walk about and take people from their homes.” “I don’t think you understand how much worse it could be.” The Altmer scowled, pulling up a sleeve and showing lines of lightning scars. The Bosmer pulled off a piece of armor- showing burn marks up and down her arm. “Try me.” The Legate opened his mouth to calm everyone down. Elisif could have warned him was a terrible idea when it came to this discussion. “Elisif is young and in need of compassion currently, but the Empire will keep Skyrim safe and stable until she is able-” There was a ripple through the crowd. The Altmer let go of his goat. “This is why you didn’t win the war twenty-five years ago.” “Is the Empire holding the High Queen hostage?” The merchant’s face was pale. Several Falkreath guards were whispering to each other. Elisif wanted to see how the Legate handled the questions, but Babette pulled her towards the alchemist’s shop. When Elisif looked over her shoulder, she saw the merchant looking at her strangely. Elisif walked back burdened with dangerous potion ingredients and even more dangerous feelings. Elisif wasn’t sure why they weren’t just saying she died or why Haafinger hadn’t elected a new Jarl. “Do you want to go back?” Babette asked out of the blue. Elisif wasn’t stupid enough to think the Brotherhood didn’t know who she was- but it wasn’t one of those topics they discussed. Everyone seemed to leave each other’s pasts to their own discretion. “No,” Elisif answered honestly. “It was terrible, and I wasn’t able to do enough. I am not even sure I would have done the right things if I had the power.”“You don’t strike me as someone who doesn’t listen to good advice though.” Babette said. “I’ve met quite a few rulers and jarls who died in particularly nasty ways. You aren’t particularly cruel or domineering- which isn’t always a bad thing in a ruler. You aren’t stupid enough to give away all your coin or believe every sob story.”Elisif gave a half-choked laugh at that. “I was when I was first married- I was until around a year ago- the reason I am here started with me listening to a sob story.”Babette clucked her tongue. “Governments come and go, I suppose.” Babette didn’t make any more comment on it.Elisif smiled to herself, but there were tears in her eyes. Grief was overcoming her for something other than Torygg. She suddenly didn’t want to give up on the vampire who didn’t seem to mind Elisif not walking with the weight of the world on her shoulders. Babette was her friend. Elisif wasn’t sure she ever had a friend as an adult before.As Babette and Elisif walked down the steps to the Sanctuary, Elisif heard the yelling from a good spar. Elisif and Babette came into the main area to see Vezeera and Cicero crossing daggers. Neither of them seemed to be able to get the best of each other. Vezeera’s scales were going the dry crackly color which meant he was getting close to overheating. Cicero was sweating through his jester’s outfit.Astrid, who was cheering from next to the pond. Her feet were soaking in the water- her pants were rolled up to her knees. When she saw them, a large smile broke out on her face.She’s beautiful, and she likes me. Elisif thought. The Brotherhood, highly attuned to their Speaker- noticed the silence and looked over to Elisif and Babette. Cicero and Vezeera broke off, leaning on their knees. Their breaths came in deep pants. Arnbjorn was talking to Nazir next to the forge- obviously pretending to work as they watched Vezeera and Cicero.Arnbjorn looked over at Astrid, as it always did. Then his eyes slid over to Astrid’s focus.“Oh, look. Babette didn’t eat you- I was hoping I could have your corpse once she got rid of the blood.”Elisif threw back her head and laughed. It wasn’t that Babette couldn’t kill Elisif, or even that Elisif thought Babette wouldn’t- It was that Babette hadn’t killed her for walking up to a Legate and nearly provoking a riot. Babette hadn’t told her to calm down, hadn’t even been mad.Elisif looked around the room and saw faces looking at her, smiling. Did they think she was stupid enough to betray them with Babette right there?No, Elisif decided, looking at the smiles. It wasn’t stupidity they expected of Elisif. It was cruelty.“You need to make her some decent armor,” Babette said as she walked in. “And Astrid, you need to show her how to talk to people without looking like she has a stick up her ass or like she is a beaten dog.”“Does she at least know how to lie?” Gabriella asked. She magically appeared at Elisif’s side, taking the bag of ingredients from her.“I don’t know, but probably not,” Babette said.“She does not,” Cicero said. “Cicero does not think there is any help for it.”“Nazir might be a better teacher than I am.” Astrid started drying off her feet. “He can do that while he shows her how to use her armor.”Elisif looked around as the group started to argue with Astrid about letting her rest and how everyone was already infringing on her time.Oh. Elisif thought to herself, as Vezeera and Cicero dragged her into the discussion.They all like me. Elisif didn’t just have one friend.For the first time since Torygg died, maybe even before, Elisif didn’t feel alone.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
A year and three months had passed since Elisif was jailed by Tullius. It had been two weeks since she brought back a Spriggan corpse to the Sanctuary. No one had remarked on it- but there was a sense of expectation in the air as Astrid and Nazir started going over the books the next two weeks. At the end of two weeks, Astrid came to her with a folded piece of paper. “This is a contract.” Astrid said simply. “In days past, the Listener would listen for word of the Night Mother, and we would send a representative. These days, we send out runners for rumors. Its unusual that someone calls the Dark Brotherhood and keeps a secret. It is more expensive this way- but it has increased our reach. The client we want you to reach is twelve. He is unlikely to have much in the way of enemies- or in coin. This contract is to more upkeep our reputation than to actually make a profit.” Astrid paused. Elisif just stood, listening. “We thought it would be a good beginner job for you, but you will only be paid three hundred and fifty septims as opposed to the regular fee of seven hundred.” Elisif stayed silent, but she hoped her face didn’t betray her shock. Astrid and Nazir had been giving her lessons. Cicero had given the best advice as he was training her- “The best way to avoid trouble is to avoid speaking. It makes you appear mysterious.” “Spend a lot of time looking for trouble, Cicero?” Elisif asked, voice wry and dry from an hour of dagger practice. “Yes! Yes! Cicero does not like the silence.” Cicero took the opportunity to attack her again with daggers. Elisif was hoping the silence covered the questions she had on the amount of money. Elisif received one hundred gold for a month at the Blue Palace. Normal assassination jobs in Skyrim- from what she understood- took a week. Worst of all, Astrid was looking apologetic about the amount. “Will you take it?” Astrid asked. Elisif kept her mouth closed and nodded. She had a choice? A little under a year with the Dark Brotherhood and she was still reeling from the way they talked to her- the youngest and least experienced. She would have to ask Nazir about it one of these days. While the rest of the Brotherhood had warmed up to her, Nazir kept some emotional distance. He did teach her about moving in her armor and went over maps and cities in Skyrim- until Elisif was hopeful she could find her way blindfolded. Elisif didn’t have the courage to ask him, but he told her anyway. “I am not going to get emotionally attached to you until you come back on a few jobs. Survive a while and I’ll see about us becoming friendlier than professional.” Elisif found she appreciated the approach. There were less gaps in his teaching, and he was willing to be unoffended by her. Nazir was also in charge of teaching her how to talk to people in different ways to make them remember or forget you. He also showed her some tricks about getting into people’s heads and having them remember what you said, if not your face. Elisif took the contract. Astrid smiled at her. Nazir went over the background of the Arentino boy. His background, his parents- any relatives he had in the area. “We think its probably the orphanage owner, Grelod the Kind.” Nazir said. “Nasty piece of work. Several people have tried to take he down through the law, but who looks at an old woman running a charity and thinks- “You know, I think this is a villain in every child’s nightmare.” No adoption, or apprenticeship has gone through in the past twelve years- unless you are related. A family member can petition the Jarl.” “What does she get out of it?” Elisif asked. Nazir shrugged. “I am not sure. Donations, perhaps. A small unpaid workforce? Thing is, a lot of the kids disappear. Inheritance gets donated to the orphanage. That’s why Astrid wanted the job done. We don’t like a lot of murders we don’t know about- a lot of paid murders.” “I thought it was about the reputation-” “Astrid never just has one reason. People with one reason for doing something aren’t very efficient- and Astrid is very efficient. The boy hasn’t been subtle, children generally aren’t- but no one is stopping him. Skyrim might as well be throwing down the gauntlet.” Nazir tugged on his beard slightly. “Doesn’t matter how powerless you think someone is- a truly determined person can cause a lot of havoc. No one is not worth noting- especially if they are calling on the Dark Brotherhood. Anyway- you need to go through the ruins of Helgen…” Elisif still had the pouch of coins from her last visit to Falkreath- and Astrid told Arnjborn and Babette to pay her for the supplies she brought them (at least until Elisif started taking jobs)- so Elisif’s coin bag was a little heavier. Elisif had felt pleased she was able to save the eighty-three coins- even if her food, shelter and weapons were provided. No one made a big deal about her leaving, but Cicero danced next to her as she went to the exit. Cicero had told her to leave half her gold at the Sanctuary- but Elisif had refused. It caused a bit of consternation, but Cicero had shrugged it off. Elisif’s cowl was around her shoulders and a bartender’s dress over her armor. When Elisif stepped out from the shadow of the sanctuary, Cicero stepped out with her. It was early- before sunrise- and the air was cool and gentle on her skin. “Cicero has a gift for pretty Elisif.” Cicero seemed to pull a strange stick out of the air. It was the dark black of Ebony and looked like a long knife. Elisif reached to take it and Cicero pulled it out of the way, he snapped his wrist and knife unfolded into a recurve bow. More power, less pull weight. Elisif was getting better at the Dwarven Bow, but she was still not fast. “Elisif will have to practice- but it is a good weapon. Cicero hoped to trade it for the Dwarven bow.” Elisif felt ridiculously possessive of the Dwarven bow, but she handed it over. She was still relatively sure she was going to have to turn the Dark Brotherhood in, and she would never see the bow again. It was tearing her up inside, but she had to do something. She would always hate herself for it, but she was going to be miserable in the Blue Palace anyway- she might as well be miserable in her entirety. These people had looked after her in ways her brother and husband never had. Astrid’s kind smile, Vezeera’s solemn words, and Cicero’s almost abusive friendship. Cicero showed her how to open and close the bow. He went over the enchantments that were on it- a specialty of Festus. “Pretty Elisif must go!” Cicero finally said. “Remember to check at the taverns for rumors! Cicero has avoided many deaths in such a way. Do not forget to stop for potions!” Elisif said nothing- and set off down the trail. Falkreath had not gotten any less crowded or busy. The merchant who had been complaining to the legate had set up shop in a tavern room. They were one of the only people who ever remembered Elisif. When Elisif ducked into the tavern, they were talking to an Imperial Officer, so Elisif went to the counter. Valga was staring down the imperial guard, so it took Elisif a few discrete coughs to get her attention. “Ah, yes- you’ve been here before.” Valga’s eyebrow pulled together. “Yes. I am Elle.” Elisif said. “You usually see me here with Babette.” “Babette! Nice Girl. She doesn’t run around causing half as much chaos as the other children around here. Very polite and sweet.” Elisif smiled. “I am heading North for a bit- do you have any news for me?” Valga frowned and started rubbing down the counter absently. “Depends on what you last heard I supposed. Markarth has officially been taken by the Foresworn and the Jarl of Whiterun is refusing to let Ulfric march troops through his land. The Archmage of Winterhold has rebuilt Sarthaal and Labyrinthian. She’s taking in refugees currently. Windhelm’s Dunmer are fleeing there- especially because of the Shrine of Azura. Empire is reportedly sending another Legion. The Dragonborn has disappeared. High Queen Elisif has officially handed her duties over to Falk Firebeard and General Tullius. Half the Skyrim recruits left right then- there are all sorts of rumors. Elisif felt one of her eyebrows go up. “I’m heading towards Riften- anything I need to know there?” Valga shook her head. “Thieves Guild runs the place, last I heard. Maven Black Briar was Jarl- but no one knows who has the place now.” “Excuse me-” A voice came from behind her. “I told you to not harass my customers.” Valga scowled. Elisif turned to see the man in imperial uniform standing a respectful distance away. “Just a quick word.” His voice was very soft- not at all what Elisif was used to when it came to soldiers. “I’ll even buy her an ale.” Elisif had a deep feeling of dread come over her. This was the moment she had been waiting for since she understood the Dark Brotherhood existed. Her first step back into misery. This is the right thing. This is the right thing. This is the right thing. Elisif chanted to herself. They sat down at a table and Elisif watched the man shift uncomfortably. “I’ve seen that armor before.” The man blurted out. Elisif blinked at him. She wasn’t quite sure what to do with that. “What you are wearing under your dress.” The man held his hands up before Elisif could think of what to say. It would help her case if the man knew, but-” “Hail Sithis.” The man held his hand up. Elisif took a sip from her drink. “I am looking for someone.” The man said. Elisif raised an eyebrow, trying to keep from panicking and babbling. “The High Queen is missing.” The man confessed. “No one knows where she is- and everyone knows it is General Tullius’ fault. I made the mistake of saying it out loud- so I am supposed to come back with a body, or not come back at all. This is where my investigation lead me.” The man squirmed some more. “I guess I wanted to know if there had been a contract on her.” Elisif raised another eyebrow. The man started babbling some more. “I was in a Cyrodill mining town- near Hammerfell- when one of the Brotherhood took out the mining boss. Nasty bastard, didn’t pay his workers and put soldiers on the town so the miners couldn’t move on. Emperor wouldn’t do a thing about it. Finally the mining boss took one of the worker’s teenage sons and everyone pooled their money to make the sacrament.” The man sighed. “No one looks to deeply into who actually made the Sacrament. Its just easier for the Empire to mark it down as the Dark Brotherhood. I always appreciated it- that if you tried hard enough- or had enough faith- ordinary people could take down kings.” Elisif listened quietly. She hadn’t really thought about it like that. There wasn’t a Listener anymore, the Brotherhood was basically a mercenary group these days. But then again- the Night Mother and the Keeper were living at the Sanctuary. Luck had started to change for the better from the way Elisif watched the brothers and sisters marvel at how much faster they were getting. Jobs that went pear shaped didn’t always result in deaths. She watched Nazir cry once when Festus came back from a job a week late- thanking the Night Mother. Cicero was very smug. From what Elisif gathered from Babette, the point of Cicero coming to live in Falkreath Sanctuary was so that the Keeper could die with the rest of them. Babette had told her, one night in the dark, that she thought she would be sleeping alone in the Sanctuary by now. There may not be a Listener, but something out there cared about what the Dark Brotherhood was doing. She was currently going to grant- Elisif felt her entire body shudder. She had made one of those decisions she hadn’t really known she was making exactly. It was like when she walked out of Solitude or decided to call the Dragonborn Tyre. Elisif had made a decision that she couldn’t unmake. “There isn’t a contract out on Torygg’s widow.” Elisif whispered to the man. “Haven’t heard about a previous one. Go find yourself a place to settle- Skyrim is a big place and you’re searching for a needle in a haystack.” Elisif leaned back. She felt no urge to confess to this man. No urge to report the Brotherhood. The only thing Elisif wanted to do was fulfill her contract. She completely forgot to stop by Grave Concoctions. -- Elisif, despite Gabrielle and Festus’ best efforts, had not been able to learn the Muffle Spell. According to Gabrielle, her magicka was big enough to attempt it- but Elisif never could get the hang of it. This didn’t bother her as she walked around Helgan’s walls. She could sneak and sit still well enough that Arnbjorn considered her competent. (Learning to sneak by hiding from a werewolf on the full moon was not fun.) It took her all night to make the journey and she ended up sleeping in a crevasse for a few hours during some of it. Elisif had too many lessons for too long to need much sleep. When she continued, she felt quite sure she could handle the rest of the journey. That feeling immediately went away once she realized she was walking directly beneath a Stormcloak camp and she hadn’t noticed. She froze in the middle of the road as she watched a pair of soldiers walking by- helmets stuffed with fur to keep out the cold. They were quietly discussing something Galmar Stone-Fist (Elisif nearly fainted, she had seen the man at her husband’s coronation- even had an awkward conversation with the man.) had said back at the camp about Balgruuf’s youngest child. Elisif felt a lot less confident trying to get around a group of soldiers who had an experienced leader making them do regular watches with clockwise and counterclockwise perimeter checks. It took her six hours to get by them- and she was stumbling with exhaustion as she got closer to the end of the pass. Elisif barely survived her exhaustion. There was a cave near the end of the pass, open and dark. Elisif looked for a nook to crawl up into and hide. Then her exhaustion came on quicker and quicker. Elisif looked around- eyes barely open- to see a vampire pulling health from her body. Elisif didn’t panic. Panic is the worst thing you can do in a fight. Vezeera’s words echoed in her head. If you’re going to die- the best thing you can do is accept going into Sithis’ arms and see if you can take the attacker with you. Then Cicero’s voice sounded in her head. Aim for the dangly bits and then take out the entrails. Elisif used her iron knife to stab the Vampire between his legs. She was exhausted- but she was physically fit and had been trained to dance out of the way of blades. The spell faltered, but didn’t stop. He won’t- can’t stop the spell. Elisif understood. It would mean his death. According to Babette, the longer her health was drained the greater her chance of contracting vampirism. Elisif needed to make a quick kill. Her hand shook. She went with what she knew. She aimed for the eyes. The first hit didn’t land, the second hit didn’t land- but she used her right hand to punch the side of the Vampire’s head, making him lose focus. Her dagger slid easily into one eye. She pulled it out and went to the other. The spell had stopped by then- but she heard voices coming from the cave. So Elisif ran, panicked. The sun was coming up and it burned her skin. She was thirsty. There was an Imperial camp by the pass. She would give up the Brotherhood is she could take something that would stop her from turning. She pushed her legs as fast as they could go until she saw a small shack off the side of the path- a bear was mauling a woman- a woman with a basket full of potions ingredients. Elisif didn’t even think as she pulled out her bow, firing shot after shot into the bear until it collapsed in a heap on top of the woman- who was screaming. “Get it off. Get it off.” The woman cried. Her voice sounded wet with blood and all Elisif wanted to do was not be thirsty. “Do you have a cure disease potion?” Elisif asked. “Get it off- I have mudcrab chitin and hawk feathers. Get it of-“ Elisif moved the bear only to hear a creak and all the air releasing from the woman. Her eyes were open and shocked. Elisif panicked some more. She picked up the woman’s basket and ran for the hut. Elisif didn’t know anything about Alchemy, and she had only seen Babette make poisons. She found the mudcrab pieces and the hawk feathers next to the alchemy table in the hut. Elisif didn’t remember a lot of what happened next, except that she did her best to make cure disease potion after cure disease potion until she passed out- the tips of her fingers purple. Elisif waited three days after she woke up. She was sick as a dog and hated everything- her period had started, and it was heavy. She ate a carrot and butchered a rabbit nearby. She never wanted to do anything again, but she needed actual food and ale to wash out the taste of feathers from her mouth. She didn’t clean up the cabin as she left- didn’t even look at the body. She didn’t know what actual shame felt like until that moment. She had been wrong to tell Tyre she wasn’t a coward all those years ago- she was a coward. It wasn’t until Ivarstead that she realized she didn’t have her coin bag. She looked for somewhere to sleep about the town- it was early afternoon- but Elisif just wanted to sleep. The guard threatened her with a bounty she couldn’t pay- and she was about to accept a jail cell for somewhere to sleep- until an older woman took her across the bridge and to a burnt out house. There was a man in beggar’s clothing. He had some bread and cheese to share with Elisif. “You should go to the farmer and see if he’ll let you chop wood for him. He makes me wait- but he probably would let you do it for free.” Elisif nodded and passed out. The next morning, Elisif was smart enough to ask how much she would earn per piece she cut- five for each- seven if she stacked the wood. The farmer apologized it couldn’t be more- but Elisif was suddenly very pissed off. Elisif wanted to go back in time to Morthal and slap herself silly. She would make more of her money back with six swings of an ax than she had originally. Elisif was furious, and her arms were strong. She was five hundred gold richer by the end of the day. She gave a hundred and fifty gold to Narfi- thanked him profusely- and caught a carriage coming from Whiterun and going to Windhelm. There was a very nervous lad in the carriage- his pointed ears twitching with every shift of the breeze, but Elisif didn’t care. She stretched out on the bottom of the carriage and slept her sore muscles away. She got out and stretched the next morning and felt vaguely less skittish. She had wanted to hide under a rock or possibly drink herself stupid. She was a little more aware of how scared she could be, now. Maybe that was a good thing The trip to Windhelm was uneventful. The City of Kings itself was an experience. The other carriage passenger decided to stay in the nice warm carriage house. Elisif- ignoring the wisdom of the stables- decided to travel on. The way to Windhelm had gotten chillier gradually, but by the time she got to the gate, she felt like she was frozen solid. While Elisif had seen a map of the city- through her time as High Queen and under Nazir’s tutelage- she had not understood Windhelm. The only way to the gate was a long, wide, stone pathway. Each block was half her body length. The walls on either side of her blocked out all but a long row of endless blue sky. The passageway was not silent- the wind screamed and pulled at Elisif, making the bitter cold turn to a numb shaking- Elisif couldn’t feel her lips or nose. The wind kept blowing up her dress. Her hands were frozen in their gloves. She would be useless with a bow if the guards staring down at her from their vantage points decided to fire on her. Each helmet shaded the guards’ eyes- but all their beards had a rime of frost on them. They stood like ancient sentinels guarding an unbreakable fortress. Nazir told her to go through the front entrance when arriving- but to go over the wall when leaving- let the guards always be one count off. The guards were polite enough when she went in- one of them even told her to hie herself to the Candlehearth Inn- and to get her some warmer clothes while the market was still open. Elisif did none of these things. She turned to the right and pulled up her hood from under her collar- and stepped out of her dress. Astrid had her practice this move until she didn’t have to take an extra step while pulling the dress off. She folded and rolled the thing up- putting it into one of the little pouches tied onto her armor. The armor was enchanted, Astrid had explained. No one would think to look at it- not unless they were very, very afraid. Or they were expecting to see it. The little boy arguing with his nurse outside the Aretino home was looking for it. His words were brash, but when his clever little eyes saw Elisif’s red and black armor- the boy was quick to pull his nurse away. His face pale, his eyes downcast- and attitude as reverent and impressed as Sithis could hope for in a mortal. By then, Elisif’s hands were cold, but not shaking. The lock was trivial to open, her lockpicks were no longer filched or handmade- but professionally crafted to her hands. To anyone passing by, the door to the Aretino house barely opened, but to Elisif it was like walking into a new plane of Oblivion, or what Elisif imagined it was like. Her steps made the stairs squeak, but no noise could break the air of silence and dread in the house. Someone was speaking upstairs, and goosebumps crawled up and down Elisif’s back. “Sweet Mother, Sweet Mother-” The child’s voice seemed to overlap with Cicero’s in her memory. The same notes sung for the same purpose- equally desperate for an answer. The dust motes were frozen in the air. There was no wind or air moving, but the candles and the lantern’s flames flickered in and out of existence. “Send your child unto me-” Elisif could hear her blood rush in her ears, but her breathing was gentle and her body felt as if it were floating in the air. The smell of rotting meat was starting to pierce through the smell of cold and dust. Elisif came to the door where the child bent over the circle. “For the sins of the unworthy-” Elisif saw the shadows dancing on the walls and recognized the sucking void of nightmares moving on the walls. How many people had been gossiping about a child calling forth the Night Mother? The undertone of paranoia which had crept under each grown man and woman’s voice had been shocked- but this child had known what he was calling on more than any grown man or woman who had heard tales of it. Adults got over nightmares- But children believed in them. “Must be baptized in blood and fear.” The boy cried out, voice cracking with fatigue. Elisif, for once, was intended to interrupt. She gently cleared her throat- and the child turned and looked at her. The darkness seemed to rush out of the room, wind picked up in the house- the air moved as it should. Sithis no longer needed to keep vigil with the boy. The boy smiled at Elisif with the deep joy and relief of knowing a savior has come. Elisif could not help but return the beaming smile as the child stared up at her, even though the boy could not see it. --- Elisif’s brothers and sisters were divided on the best way to enter Riften. Winterhold was too cold to enter by the docks by swimming, but Riften had three or four places, outside of the front gate. Elisif was a better than decent swimmer. The Karth, where it ran by Dragon’s Bridge at least, was a lot more dangerous than Riften’s sedentary Lake Honrich. Elisif knew she should probably take the sewers below the orphanage- But Elisif had never been to Riften. She went in and out of the city through every way she could find, during the night and day. She was going to try and commit a murder there, she wanted to know the best way to get out in a hurry. The town seemed to have too many hiding spots- though that didn’t stop her from being spotted. She was sitting on the roof of Riften’s jail when a blade was pressed to her throat. “Easy now, freckles” The voice was low and hoarse. The smooth scales of an Argonian rubbed against her face. “You’ve been doing an awful lot of spying and sneaking for someone who isn’t working for me.” “You’re Wujeeta?” Elisif guessed. Astrid had received a letter from the Thieves Guild telling her about the new “management” the Guild was under. Astrid had disliked the news, so had Gabriella- though she didn’t seem to have any lost love for the lately dead Mercer Frey. “Aye, I am.” Wujeeta dug the knife in a little harder. “I was told my entrance into the city had already been paid for.” Elisif said. She didn’t move as the knife started to trace the line of her veins. “We sent the gold back.” Wujeeta whispered. “We don’t want your kind here.” Elisif felt her pulse leap as her blood started pounding in her veins. She should have just killed the woman and booked it. Another part of her mind, the part Vezeera and Cicero had trained, was strangely analytical. Astrid will need to know this, we received goods within the last month-“We received a shipment from your guild last month.” Elisif questioned, slowly.The knife stopped. “What goods?”“The iron ingots and the-”“Alchemy ingredients?” The knife disappeared from her throat and Wujetta threw herself backwards on the roof. Elisif slightly turned to keep her within eyesight. The guards right below her never noticed a thing.“You’re with the Dark Brotherhood?” Wujetta’s tail was very still, and her face was unmoving. Elisif didn’t move. Her cowl was still up, and her face was covered. Wujetta squinted, finally seeming to take in the design of the armor. “Shit.” Wujetta looked about, then sat down on the roof. “My second-in-command is going to come looking for me soon, so don’t get any ideas. I am sure we can let this go like proper business associates.” Elisif was quite sure Babette would make her suffer if Elisif interrupted her low-cost supply of nirnroot- then Arnbjorn would finish her off for lack of smithing supplies. Elisif inclined her head slightly. “Which one are you? Astrid? Gabrielle?” Elisif tilted her head and didn’t say a word. Wujetta looked discomfited. Then she looked around Elisif’s hiding spot. “Listen, you can’t kill the Jarl, not yet.” Wujetta said. “We’ve got-” “I am not here to kill the Jarl.” Elisif kept her voice low. “Nor any of the court.” Wujetta’s eyes glanced at the orphanage. “I can’t let you kill one of the kids.” Elisif tilted her head farther. “Why do you think I would kill a child? You would stop me if I did?” “That’s a good fucking question. Wujetta, what the fuck are you doing?” A new voice startled both of them, but Elisif noticed Wujetta was also trained not to startle. There was a figure on the side of the keep, staring down at them. The armor was shrouded in a way similar to Elisif’s own. The figure jumped down, his boots not making a sound on the roof of the jail. “Runa is down there Brynolf.” Wujetta said plaintively. “Aye, and we can’t exactly get her out-” Brynolf turned to look at Elisif. --- Elisif, when she explained it to Nazir, accepted Brynolf and Wujetta’s aid for the sake of the contract. Nazir, who would be examining his new spices and some throwing needles, would nod and say he believed in doing what was needed to get the job done. Astrid would also say nothing, as her new golden hairbands would suit her perfectly. The only criticism she would get would be from Festus on his new soul gems. In reality, Elisif did it because she had no idea how to get in and out of the orphanage without a suitable distraction. The guards were too well stationed, and the rooms of the orphanage were too open. Elisif needed to get in and out, kill the woman, and make it clear the Dark Brotherhood was involved. Despite the fall of the Black-Briars, Greta was still fully in business- and not letting anyone adopt children. Wujetta and Brynolf had been trying to get Runa Fair-Shield out for months, but the children weren’t going outside without significant supervision. When they had snuck in, Runa hadn’t left for fear of some threat of Greta’s. They were very close to kidnapping her. Elisif was just giving them the opportunity. Elisif hung by her fingertips from the roof as she listened. There were several kids crying and there was an intense smell coming from the room she was hanging by. Then there was a pounding from the front of the orphanage. Elisif tightened her grip on the roof and pulled her legs up. She swung up her legs, and missed the window. Again, she swung- and again she missed. She was about to loose her grip when she put her entire back into swinging. In the next instant her feet had gone through the window and she had fallen through into the room. Her armor had protected her from most cuts. She fell right into the body of a child. She couldn’t think of that though, not when she had very little time to pull this off. She unfolded and strung her bow, teasing the door open slightly. The old woman, Greta, was arguing with three members of the Riften Guard. Elisif would have one shot at this. More yelling came from the marketplace nearby. Screams of “Thief!” and “Guard!” This made the guard’s heads turn slightly- Which was when Elisif fired an arrow, fletching painted black and red, into Greta’s back. All the air left the woman as blood was punched out of her mouth, coating the uniforms of the guards. They turned to see who had done it, but Elisif was already gone. Later, in the Ratway, Elisif was told the story of the dead child by a traumatized Runa Fair-Shield and given a hug by her new adoptive parents- both of whom promised any favor they could give, on top of the bag of loot they were sending with Elisif to the Sanctuary.--- Elisif was admiring the plate the Arentino Boy had given her (and laughing at herself. She never thought she could afford an assassin, and here was a twelve-year-old who thought a painted platter would be enough.) and sitting by the bar and the Candlehearth Inn. She had her gifts for her brothers and sisters stored in a bag and some nice bandoliers (which had been her gift). “Good Hunting, Sister?” A voice came from behind Elisif. She didn’t startle, but she did look behind her to see Gabriella in some beautiful robes. “Vigilant of Stendarr.” Gabriella said, when Elisif asked. She nursed her own drink by the fire. “One of my more difficult victims. I was pleased I was able to save their robes. Word of your own exploits has traveled faster than you have- I was beginning to get worried.” Elisif raised an eyebrow, a habit she had picked up from Nazir. “Ah, an air of silence.” Gabriella chuckled. “You need to practice raising one eyebrow at a time though. It was your first job, and you have a more involved past than our first recruits. You had proved yourself in Falkreath with Babette, but temptation comes to us all. I was satisfied to with your conversation at the inn to not bother following you too closely.” “I could have used your help with the vampires.” Elisif said. “Ah, but you didn’t. You also learned several valuable lessons about potions.” Gabriella took a deep drink. “Babette will be pleased to have an attentive student when you get back, I am sure.” Elisif grimaced, more lessons. “You will have a good opportunity to go over everything with Nazir when we get back.” Gabriella chuckled. “New recruits love talking with him, even when they do poorly, and you have done quite well, all told.” Elisif smiled, letting Gabriella talk to her through the night.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
According to Nazir, Elisif was the first member of the Dark Brotherhood who had been initiated in front of the Night Mother in over twenty years. According to Cicero, It was the first initiation Cicero had ever done. According to Astrid, it was a waste of time. Astrid still took part, of course. Babette was the one who prepared Elisif- handing her a potion smelling of nightshade and with the consistency of jelly. She was stripped and blindfolded with a bag smelling of a rotting body. She was made to walk into the shallow pool below the Night Mother’s room. She could smell Astrid. It was the only thing keeping her heartbeat steady as her head started pounding. Her mind was recalling the smell of dog and dragon fire. She could feel lightning in her veins, and the pit in her stomach was worse than when Torygg accepted Ulfric’s challenge. Elisif stayed calm. Cicero was saying something, but Elisif couldn’t hear anything. Astrid and someone else gripped Elisif’s hands and drew a long line down her palm. Elisif still couldn’t hear Cicero’s words, but she could hear her blood stream into the pool. I clean my hair in this pool. There have to be all sorts of potions in it from where I wash out stamina potions. Then a hand gripped the back of her neck and thrust her into the water. And Elisif was drowning. She didn’t panic. Death seemed like a nice break from all these moral dilemmas. It was a sweet end to a short life, being killed in an initiation to the Dark Brotherhood. A voice echoed in her head as Elisif let her body go limp, all the tension going out of it as the fear became too much for her heart to stand. Her blood, her lungs, and her heart was absolutely still. Finally. The voice that was only an absent memory came into Elisif’s mind full force. Here is my Voice- know and hear it, it speaks for Sithis. Darkness rises when Silence dies. Then Elisif was pulled out of the water. It cascaded off of her body as her lungs tried to pull in air, leading to a fit of coughing and then blessed darkness. Elisif didn’t speak for a few days afterward, but the voice in her head soothed her with gentle lullabies. A fiddle and a flute questioned and answered each other in her thoughts- gentle folk music with a steady beat matching her heart. Elisif didn’t trust them, but it comforted her to not be alone. It was two weeks before Astrid would send Elisif on any contracts. Astrid had been at odds with Cicero since Elisif’s initiation. Nazir was frantically trying to keep the peace- but with sides being chosen, he could do very little. If the meditations weren’t being proved lucky, if Elisif hadn’t lasted longer than any other recruit, if the Brotherhood hadn’t seen Elisif’s initiation-not that anyone would tell Elisif what they saw- then Astrid would have been the undisputed winner of the contest between the two. If Cicero would stop talking and allow Astrid to peacefully come to terms with the new dynamic, then there might be some sort of hope of Nazir making headway. As it was, Nazir would often escape to Elisif’s bedside. He would bring a game or just read quietly as Elisif practiced her lockpicks. They both ignored the loud shouting coming from the main room of the Sanctuary- and the passive-aggressive talk coming from the dining room. Elisif shared the soup and bread and cheese Babette would bring before the meals. Elisif felt as if she was starving for any sort of taste on her tongue. She ate slower, trying to let the flavors last longer. She had no hunger but the one on her tongue. Nazir and Elisif didn’t talk much, but their business-like association turned into a gentle sort of friendship. They couldn’t escape the fighting forever, but as soon as Astrid agreed to let Elisif take contracts, Nazir sent her to the other end of Skyrim- and helped her sneak out of the sanctuary in the middle of the night- with the order to take the carriage from Falkreath. Elisif walked out of the sanctuary, purposefully repressing all other thoughts but that of murdering a mine owner for money. It was a two-stage journey, with a stop in Whiterun. Elisif didn’t fear nightmares of Whiterun anymore. There was a vague curiosity, but she didn’t fear it anymore. There was a nervous feeling. The deep tingling sensation of someone watching you. The music in her head got louder and louder as she fell asleep- curled up on some hay. There was a guard who watched her like a hawk, which was unusual. She was unused to people noticing her if she did not want them to. When she opened her eyes, the world around her was a deep purple and red. She was sitting at the top of a wall, looking down at a small bridge that opened towards some buildings. It had the same structures as Whiterun had- the stone had the same ridges- the buildings had the same pillars. When Elisif looked beside her, she saw a dark-haired mer with bright red eyes and white lips- curled into a smile. Her hair was wound into a circle of nightshade flowers. She gently kissed Elisif on the mouth. Elisif closed her eyes and sighed in contentment. She was home- she was content. When the woman pulled back, Elisif opened her eyes to see the world in full color. The dark-haired mer used the tips of her fingers to trace the edges of Elisif’s cheekbones, and to scrap against the soft hair at her neck. Elisif felt languid. If you want to see, the woman said, I will show you. Her voice was whisper soft, a strange undertone to the lullaby in Elisif’s head. It was a matter of serious weight, so Elisif leaned forward to kiss the mer again. I want to know Elisif said back. I don’t want to see. Seeing is the only way you will ever know. The woman shook her head. Elisif leaned in for another kiss- and was given one. Then the woman grasped her chin and turned her head to look down at scene before them. The Dragonborn would have done better to focus on spellwork. The woman beside Elisif on the statue stated. Elisif watched as Tyre, Lydia, and Vladimar entered the city- Elisif right behind them, looking uncertain and gawky. Elisif internally winced at how she moved in the heavy armor. Her hair was frizzing out of its braid. Her facial scars were still bright red and nasty looking. Elisif looked uncomfortable. The three masked figures approaching their group had magic prepared at their hands. Who are they?
They are a matter to be dealt with later, Mora is becoming occupied with other matters.
Tyre noticed them first. He stepped forward, hammer in hand, shielding Lydia. Vladimar stood to his left side. Elisif had her daggers drawn. She could feel the weight of them in her hand. None of it did any good against the fireball the cultists threw at them. Tyre took most of the damage, it threw him back into Whiterun’s gate, which had just shut behind him. Vladimar was able to jump out of the way, only getting lightly singed. The woman laughed to herself. That is a man who knows how to fight mages. He didn’t even hesitate. Why didn’t he throw up a shield? Elisif asked. She had seen him cast what she had learned was the Lesser Ward. Sit and watch. The woman said. Sit and Watch. Elisif was oddly reminded of Cicero. Lydia’s whole side went up into flames. The fur lining of her armor caught fire. She shrieked and went to roll in the dirt next to the gate- eventually falling into a small stream of water. Elisif was not partially shielded by the bodies in front of her, but she reacted quickly to the noise and fell on her face. Labyrinthian. Elisif remembered. If I heard a nearby spell I ducked. Even the few days I was there were enough to make me jumpy. There was a nearby rumble in the air, but Elisif paid it no mind when she saw Tyre stand up, burnt. FUS RO DAH The very air shook at the sound. The echo of it tremored even in the state of dreaming Elisif knew she must reside in. This is why I don’t remember. Elisif assumed. Even in a dream-state, Elisif knew Tyre’s shout was greater than Ulfric’s, her worst nightmare made powerful and real by a close friend. Watch. The woman put an arm around Elisif and pulled her close. Elisif could hear the music again, but no heartbeat. It felt like being enclosed in strong vines. The arm was cool and Elisif could feel herself being soothed. Elisif watched as she got up and ran to Lydia, trying to pull her to Vladimar. It didn’t make any sense. She was still on her feet. Tyre ran at the cultists, reaching and killing two of them before they could get another spell off. His warhammer shattered the mask and head of the first, and it only took another step and another swing to cave in the ribs of the second. The one who had shot the initial blast was moving backward, zigzagging at speed. Tyre couldn’t maneuver as well as the cultist, but he had greater endurance- even while wearing heavy armor. Tyre knew the streets of Whiterun. Elisif watched as he herded the cultist onto some stairs to his left, slowing the cultist down and tripping him up. A metallic zing went off in the air, and Elisif watched as the cultist turned his back to try and run. Tyre got him in the knee with a two-handed swing. Elisif watched as Tyre tried to question him, but the woman sitting next to her pointed to Vladimar- who was calmly checking the bodies of the dead cultists, shoving something in his pocket. Elisif was dragging a coughing and spasming Lydia towards him- yelling for help. Then the sound of more spells filled the air as Thalmor agents came running down towards the gate- followed by a Dunmer. His red hair was askew, but it framed white warpaint and redder eyes. In his hands, he held an Ax with the face of a screaming elf- But his prey was not screaming- they were focused Tyre, who was kneeling, back turned, on the steps. Elisif saw herself scream and then tightly closed her eyes. IknewhewasdeadIknewitIwasuseless- Child, watch. You will not understand anything if you do not let yourself see. The woman gently grasped her head and pointed it at Tyre. Open your eyes. Elisif opened them. Tyre turned and heaved his hammer at the nearest Thalmor Agent. It missed, but it hit the soldier behind him. It slowed everything down to a stop. The Thalmor cast a light that covered them- repeating the same metallic zing sound. The Dunmer was joined by two burly warriors, a shieldmaiden and an archer. Everyone was at a standstill. “Thane Tyre, you are under arrest for Talos worship. You are to be questioned as under the Concordant-“ Townsfolk were gathering around, making a thick net that Tyre couldn’t escape from- even if he would have ever left Lydia. “You don’t have any power to arrest in Whiterun.” The Dunmer was calm, despite the bloodlust that seemed to come from him. “The Companions are apolitical, I thought.” The Thalmor said. “It is why we have not searched out the known Talos worshipers among your ranks. “Taking the bloody Dragonborn transcends political boundaries, I would have thought.” The Dunmer’s hand on his ax flexed. “Dragonborn-“ “Dragonborn or not, you better have a damn good reason for trying to arrest one of my Thanes when you are not even welcome in my city.” Balgruuf’s voice was furious- a righteous storm over his own dominion. If a person gave the basic descriptors of Balgruuf, they would sound like Ulfric- but Balgruuf had a wily nature. It showed how his shoulders were relaxed, even as his arms were tense by his sword. Ulfric was a fortress, Balgruuf was a fox. “We were unaware the Thalmor were unwelcome.” That was such a bald-faced lie, several people laughed in the crowd. It petered out quickly, but the Thalmor looked shocked by its short existence. In Solitude, no one liked the Thalmor- but the dislike was shown in side glances and whispered hatred. The Thalmor kept their prisoners to close for rumors not to be sown through the keep. Sometimes Elisif heard the sound of the screams. She did her best to not send anyone to the Thalmor, but she had bid goodbye to too many veterans and widows, dragged from her presence with an amulet wrapped around their necks. She was able to bargain for the children who had held onto a grandparents’ keepsake or a parents’ gift. Elisif did not laugh at the Thalmor. She knew them too well- in her throne room and then saving the three women from the Thalmor on the road leaving Solitude. The citizens of Whiterun did not know them at all. No one laughed when a knife went to Tyre’s throat. An elf with unique mage robes and an unusual dagger- “I hope you killed the woman you took the dagger from, my friend,” Tyre said softly. “She doesn’t take kindly to thieves.” “I took it off one of her friends, a traitor to our ranks- Ondolemar. He was stationed in Markarth. No one has gone in or out of that hold in some time.Dagon’s dagger. The mer said. An interesting piece of work. Several of your brothers and sisters have worn it in my name. It will go back to the Living Dead, as it always does. No one but you and your housecarl. I could kill you as a traitor to Skyrim, I could kill you as a Talos worshipper- I could kill you as a-” “Wait.” Elisif turned to see Vladimar cradling Elisif in his arms. Her face was oddly blank. Vladimar had wrapped a piece of rope around Elisif’s hands. Lydia was healed but tied with one arm to a pillar of the smith’s shop. Lydia was shouting at him, calling him an idiot. Here it is child. The lullabies got louder. “I’ll give you Elisif the Fair, if you leave this place- leave him alone,” Vladimar said. The entire area was silent. Elisif watched as her eyes blinked back to awareness, only for Vladimar to recast the spell. No one was moving. Balgruuf’s eyes flickered to Tyre’s and Tyre gave a slight nod. “Ulfric was right.” Balgruuf said the words like they were his heaviest burden.Elisif watched as Balgruuf swallowed hard and turned his face to the Companions. “That favor the Companions owe me, Harbringer,” Balgruuf said slowly. “Aye.” The Harbringer, the Dunmer who had argued on Tyre’s behalf, stood straight- but did not bow to the Jarl- or show any subservience. “Bring me the Jarl and bring me that housecarl’s head.” Vladimar flinched, dropping Elisif. It caused Elisif to be able to roll out of his hands and out of his influence. Then every warrior rushed her at once- or was about to do so. The rumble Elisif had heard from the sky earlier suddenly got louder- a deep gurgle before a loud roar came from over her head. The shadow of a dragon came over the square- breathing a long stream of frost in the middle of all the fighting Elisif couldn’t keep track of what was happening- not from her view, but she heard is when the Night Mother spoke. There was no doubt in her mind the lullaby was coming from the Night Mother. Run Child, Run. Pleasure came in a tidal wave as Elisif turned to the Nightmother, about to breathe-
Elisif woke in the stable, freezing- desperately needing to pee. As she did her business behind the stables, she heard the jingling of armor and the creaking of bows. She hadn’t taken off her bandoliers to sit down, but she was able to move behind the stable house to see a sea of Whiterun Guards, lead by an irate Balgruuf heading towards the stable. By his side was a half burned Vladimar. Elisif ran into the night. She forgot the roads. She looked to the sky and ran towards the North, trusting her feet to keep her going through the night. She heard the pounding of feet behind her, the yelling of guards. She ran faster. She was sure of her steps- eager to leave, but not afraid. Duty and Queenship could not catch her. She wished to laugh. She wished to cry. She wished to kill. She ran right past a group of vampires- orange eyes fixing on the crowd behind her. Nazir had explained that the truly devout Aedra and Daedra worshipers will never actually notice her unless she makes an effort to be seen. Only the openly apostate and agnostic present a danger to her, unless they actively search for her. But they did present a danger to Balgruuf and his guards. Delighted by this turn of events, Elisif turned around.She pulled out her bow and fit an arrow. The bottom of her quiver was soaked in poison- and the smell made her nose twitch as she aimed at the dark figures pulling red light out of Whiterun’s guards- their helmets reflecting the moons in the sky. There were twelve of them. She was able to hit seven with twelve shots. Her arms were shaking from the constant movement and the stress. The last arrow hit a vampire just about to sink his teeth above Balgruuf’s collar. He isn’t wearing armor. Elisif thought. Why isn’t he wearing armor? Elisif saw that the guards were picking themselves up- looking around. Balgruuf’s head was moving from side to side, searching for her. “Elisif?” Balgruuf’s voice called out. Elisif did not answer him as she turned. The scratchy grass turned into frost which turned into snow. She took a moment to pull out a wine bottle full of stamina potion- something Babette had made her create before leaving. She took sips of it every time she thought she could no longer go on. Her will lasted her until she saw a fire in the distance- smoke trailing up into the sky. It was too big to be a bandit or a military camp. It was a Giant’s camp. The source of at least two or three ingredients that would keep Elisif’s stamina going. Hunters went through Dragon’s Bridge every year. They spent their time hunting in the Reach, Whiterun and Falkreath- but when they needed coin they went to Dragon’s Bridge. Elisif remembered listening to them talk in the inn about hunting. What they were supposed to do with a bear or an elk. Her favorite conversations were about how someone should take down a mammoth- and the first thing they decided was who would be the sorry sod who had to kill the giant without turning the mammoths murderous. I need to stay out of range. Elisif thought, shivering. She looked at the trees- they looked like they could reach higher than four times her height and still have foliage covering them. Elisif spent the next hour trying to climb a tree and falling on her ass. She was going to give up and keep going when she fell and landed on the bottle her stamina potion was in. She had to keep going then, but that doesn’t mean she didn’t throw the biggest hissy fit she could while keeping quiet. She kicked up snow and gnashed her teeth, hitting the tree with her fist until her knuckles bled. She was eventually able to use her bandolier to wrap around the tree and pull herself up to the bottom branches. Which is when she noticed her bow was still on the ground. The process was repeated, but with tears. She eventually reached a point where she could stand and aim her bow. With light coming above the Northern Mountains, Elisif prepared her bow and aimed for the giant. Then she missed. On purpose. The giant was just out of her range. The giant’s footsteps shook the tree she was in, and snow fell in blankets over her shoulders. She shivered. The giant didn’t seem to see her- so she pulled another arrow back- aiming for the eye. She caught his ear- and enraged him. He was getting closer, and she wasn’t sure if she should stay very still and let him forget about her, or if she should try and kill him quickly. Her shaking hands and chattering teeth made the decision for her. She was halfway asleep already, she wasn’t going to make it much longer. Her next two shots missed, but they confused the giant enough to make him stand still. The third shot got him in the eye. A nice slow poison if the arrow didn’t reach the brain. Elisif sat very still as the mammoths came over and pushed the giant’s body with their tusks- then stomped off into the distance. According to some of the hunters- they would seek out a new giant. Elisif fell half-way down the tree and nearly cried once she got to the fire. There were furs stacked next to piles of bones. Elisif took off her clothes then wrapped herself in a fur by the fire. She scrubbed her clothes with some rocks and some snow and then let them dry as she waddled to the giant’s corpse and cut off its toes while wrapped in the fur- she thought it was a bear fur. She was going to keep it. Two days of rest and a handful of potions later, Elisif was ready to leave- and just in time too. There were individual bands of soldiers moving about the south- looking like little ants from where Elisif was perched at the top of the camp. The fur wrapped around her was tied with strips of leather- with cuts up and down the sides like she had seen in Dwemer and Glass armor. She practiced so she could draw her bow without problem. She didn’t count on how sweaty and hot she would get after several hours running from soldiers that always seemed a step behind her. Her boots- which had been doing more walking than they had been first meant to do- sagged and the sole was coming loose from the toe. Elisif could not rest. She could only drink her stamina potion and eat snow. She stayed off the main roads. She went up mountain paths and snuck past a bandit fort. It was not like the bandit camps of Falkreath and Whiterun- the bandits were meaner, the weapons lesser quality, but one of the bandits held a shield with Whiterun’s horse on it. Elisif kept running until she saw the back of several buildings- and the tall wooden roof of a long house. Elisif stopped behind one of the buildings, folded her fur- arranged her armor under a tattered dress- then went to find the inn, where she intended to sleep for the next day. She couldn’t even sleep for eight hours. The whole town couldn’t sleep. Elisif’s eyes were red, and her face sagged in exhaustion. She told the innkeeper she was hunting alchemy ingredients- and was sent down to the local herbalist, who was more than happy to share the gossip of the town- including what she knew about the mines- and the mine owners. Nazir was certain this was an issue between a man and a wife, but Elisif wanted to make sure there were no greater problems arising. Vezeera still told the story of the wife who came to reconcile with her husband when Vezeera was butchering the corpse as the wife had gleefully requested. Elisif was in the alchemy shop for hours. The woman’s children had all grown up and gone away, her husband was dead. Elisif was the first person she had talked to that hadn’t been demanding remedies for nightmares. The conversation quickly changed from forced and awkward to pleasant. Elisif didn’t have anywhere to be- she could barely keep her eyes open. Her legs were burning. The woman loved talking about her children. “You had seven children?” Elisif asked, crossing her legs. She had been overly nervous about having one child. Torygg had stood with her on that. Frida, the alchemist, laughed. “I have seen many a young woman give me that look. Three were adopted. This is Dawnstar, everyone drops off their baggage here- and that includes children. Trade was good with my husband and I, though. We picked up quite a few and sent out word to their kin sometimes. They would come get them.” “You didn’t send them to Honorhall?” Frida shook her head, pursing her lips. “No, dear. The children who go into Honorhall rarely come out again. I remember Grelod ‘the Kind’ as a young woman. Her family was old competition for the Black-Briars and were twice as mean. They looked at buying one of the mines- her grandfather brought her with him- hoping to find her a husband. She was a beauty. My husband, though he wasn’t back then, stayed well away- not that she would have him. She’d check every coin she had with her little dagger- didn’t do it privately either. Between her grandfather’s indecency with the young people of the town and her impoliteness, the owner was convinced not to sell. They ended up selling to Beitild’s aunt when they retired. Spine of steel, Beitild’s- bit of a ballbuster, bit of a mean streak- but no one else is going to keep her husband in line. The man won’t take no for an answer, despite barely making ends meet with that mine of his.” Elisif raised an eyebrow. She rarely heard about other people’s marriages. Arnbjorn and Astrid fought about the same things. Arnbjorn would bring up an argument publicly, Astrid would make it private, and Elisif didn’t know what happened after. She knew better than to ask anyone questions about it as well. “Decent try at the eyebrow, lass- you’ll get it. The man spent years trying to get the woman to marry him- got some fool notion in his head about owning two mines. My husband, before he passed, even told him he was a fool. I fought side by side with my husband. I own the business; he raised the kids. No one ought to be controlling a woman’s money and property, but the woman.” Elisif felt her eyebrows draw together at that. “There has to be someone to hold a person accountable to their actions. My husband and I, before he died, had someone who managed our money, so we didn’t overspend.” Frida’s cup clicked on her saucer and her eyes narrowed. “Was the money theirs, or yours and your husband’s?” “Ours, but I messed up the budget when I first married, so -” “That’s how some people learn to manage their money.” Frida said, primly. “They make mistakes. My second girl was a bit of a gambler before she joined the temple. She was a hard worker, but she couldn’t keep coin in her pocket. My husband took her to the Temple of Mara in Riften to get help when she started stealing her younger siblings’ coins. She came back a few years ago on her way to Solitude to join the Temple of the Divines with a couple who was mentoring her. She had been living on the streets of Riften and then Windhelm for a few years. “ Frida looked down at her cup. “Me and My husband, we would have never wanted that. If she had sent word, come herself- we would try something else. We would have never let her go hungry or cold. Suffering isn’t some sort of writ of passage, you know. Good things don’t always come to those who suffer enough, you don’t only get good things through suffering. The good things in life ease suffering- like family, good food, good stories. Silana didn’t deserve to suffer, she didn’t deserve the gambling problem- but she recovered. She could have gone to be a shop keeper or woman of leisure and we would have been as happy with her as we are now. She uses her coin to buy food for the people who suffer like she had. She uses her time to talk to people who were suffering like she was.” Elisif swallowed thickly, trying not to cry. Torygg’s death seemed fresh and real again. The nights she was hungry, the days where she stood under humiliation after humiliation from Falk. She had always taken those days as the price paid for marrying Torygg. Torygg took them as the cost of being Jarl. There were so many days where she felt like she was overpaying “If I had let her mistakes or her problems convince me I should take away her choices, there would be a lot of people who wouldn’t have eaten. A lot of lonely people who would have never had been heard. You don’t know how many times people told us to take away her coin, but it would have been stealing more than just her money.” Frida looked Elisif in the eye, tilting her chin up with a withered hand. “I’m an old woman, and I am quite sure there are things I don’t understand about the world as it is. But I hope you give the man who took your money a swift kick in the balls.”--- Elisif didn’t sleep well the following night. She ended up gathering nirnroot by the shore, swimming up and down the cold waters, covered in Troll fat she bought from Frida. She stabbed a couple slaughter fish and hunted down their eggs as well. She was able to warm herself off near a fire she built near the shore, listening to the distant sound of Dawnstar waking up. She dressed as the sun started to rise and noticed nightshade hiding in the side of some rock. She picked each flower carefully, until she reached a black door. She pressed her hand to it, hesitant. Was there another group? Why didn’t Astrid send one of them? “What is life’s greatest illusion?” Elisif had no idea, but she had little daylight to ponder it. It was time she worked.--- Belitild, according to Frida, worked almost all day. The guards rotated “two hours after sunrise”. Frida had commented that the inn and barracks were completely full that time of day. Elisif took herself to Belitild’s house, opening the lock with little to no trouble. She climbed to the corner of the ceiling- And waited. She would be embarrassed to admit to Nazir that she ended up dozing off, only waking up when her target entered the house. Elisif didn’t move until she put out all the lights and laid down. It was only then that she fell off her wooden perch. And on top of the pickax, she didn’t notice her target put down. She yelped, thigh bleeding. Beletild froze as all sensible people did when confronted by a stranger in their house. Elisif froze in turn, hoping for Beletild to assume it was just the wind or her imagination. She wasn’t expecting a punch to the gut, but the woman was probably very used to seeing in the dark. Beletild let out a yell for the guards. Elisif didn’t hesitate in return- she didn’t even wait to get her breath back. She lunged forward and plunged her dagger into Belitid’s eye. The action was becoming familiar. She pulled the dagger out, then plunged it back into the other eye- screwed tight with pain. She slit the throat with grace- watching the blood spray and Belitid’s legs go limp. grabbed the key to the house- and barely avoided getting knocked over as the guards knocked down the door. Nazir had warned her that guards would see her after most kills- they would be looking and they wouldn’t be feeling particularly devout to anything but violence. He was proved correct by the sound of multiple boots hitting the wooden porch. The light of their torches meant they got a good look at her- and the light blinded her, when she threw open the door. She went down to the floor, hoping the momentum would trip up the guards rushing towards her. It was a move Cicero used on Arnbjorn. Unfortunately, Elisif was a bit bigger than Cicero- and unpracticed. Instead of tripping over her more armored torso, they ended up kicking her head and her knee. It left her dazed and confused as the guards picked her up and started dragging her towards the Longhouse, by both arms where Elisif saw a messenger wearing the Whiterun Horse standing by the door. Her cowl was off. Elisif didn’t panic. She went limp in their arms, dragging their heads towards her. They looked at her, and she took that moment to hook her hands in their collars and bang their heads together. The helmets made a dull clang, but it did not attract attention- not in the dark in the town where everything was a nightmare. They let go, one to hold his head, one to correct her with the back of his hand. She pulled out the steel sword in his sheath and swung it at the guard’s head- denting the helmet. She looked up to the moons- checking for directions- and she ran east.--- Arnbjorn found Elisif three days later, curled up in their private hut in the swamp. She was curled up, surrounded by the bits and pieces of mudcrab and slaughterfish. He announced his presence by growling very loudly by Elisif’s sleeping ear. Elisif opened her eyes. They were dark and Arnbjorn felt a twist of fear. It was a feeling he could explore later. “Morning, have a nice nap, little morsel?” Elisif took a deep breath and instantly regretted it. “Yeah, that’s what I thought, get that smell right into your nostrils. I’ve been looking for you for four days. I had to feed a lot.” “I wasn’t due back till yesterday.” Elisif sputtered. “Yeah, but we got word that Jarl Balgruuf had found the High Queen. Astrid sent me to break you out- whether you wanted it or not. You want me to help you up?” Elisif nodded. Arnbjorn took Elisif’s upper arm and pulled her up. She hissed as his hand pressed on old bruises. “Was surprised to find out you didn’t do too badly. Escaped the Jarl of Whiterun, killed your target- then got away from the guards of Dawnstar and Whiterun. I expected you to run back South, which would have been a mistake, but you ran east. You covered quite a bit of distance. Plus- you only had a bounty of a thousand gold and you managed to grab quite a few potions ingredients. It’ll make Babette happy.” Elisif’s eyes widened. “I thought I had lost everything.” “Nope, it was all sitting right there in the jail- waiting to be rescued.” “Can I hug you?” “Do you want to be eaten?" Elisif sniffed for a moment, pondering the choice. She wrapped her arms around him. He patted her back, trying to hit the bruises he was sure she had. The wind howled around the shack, charaus made clicking noises around the outside. There were bloodstains on the floor from the many prey. It was a deeply haunted cabin. Elisif had been sleeping like the dead- the only ones left with no fear. There was a howl in the back of his head, and a voice demanding he bare his neck to the prey in his arms. Poor, sleep deprived thing wouldn’t even put up much of a fight. He still felt like something powerful was wrapped in his arms. “Let’s get out of here,” Arnbjorn said. His voice felt rough in his mouth. He and Astrid needed to fuck this out of him. Elisif looked up at him and smiled. Arnbjorn shuddered.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Astrid was no longer planning Elisif’s active execution, so Nazir should be able to relax in the sanctuary once again. To a certain point. Astrid and Cicero were still, hm, what was the word? Contentious, maybe. Nazir pretended to look at his ledger while Astrid explained the bounty fund to Elisif. “The first three bounties you incur in the first two years are paid out of the fund. Everything else is paid out of your own pocket.” “Unless you are unreasonably wealthy.” Nazir cut in, pretending to turn a page, watching but not staring as Astrid instructed Elisif. Astrid didn’t make Nazir spend time with people he might have to kill. It was bad enough that as Silencer, he was stuck in the Sanctuary waiting for his brothers and sisters to come back. He was barely keeping it together when Festus was going out these days. The man had survived everything life could throw at him for over eighty-nine years, but he was getting slower. Nazir had prepared his retirement- gotten some land up by the lake, but the man was too stubborn to take it. Nazir wouldn’t want to be separated from his family at the end of his life, but he would like to put the man in a proper grave.Nazir had many people whose bodies were left to the dogs, and whose ashes were blown away by the wind. It was hard to mourn for as long as he had, but there was comfort in knowing there was a resting place. There was a line of dead recruits buried in Falkreath’s cemetery he still visited. He had gathered the bones himself. He had dug the holes himself. Babette had planted the nightshade. Cicero had agreed to give them their last rights, even if they technically didn’t deserve them quite yet. “Did you call them brother and sister?” Cicero had asked. “Yes,” Nazir had lied. They hadn’t lasted long enough. He tried not to remember their faces, let alone their names. “Then they will get the last rights as brothers and sisters.” Cicero nodded to himself and went about his business. He was oddly competent as a Keeper who had been of a Sanctuary of no more than three people for over a decade. “Unless they are unreasonably wealthy.” Astrid nodded. “If the Dragonborn ever joined us, I’d make him pay his own bounty. The man has bankrupted too many small towns and villages.” “So this bounty is paid for?” Elisif looked weak with relief. Nazir had watched Astrid stop her from going out and trying to hunt when she got back. Elisif wanted to pay off their werewolf friend quickly, which was odd- considering Arnbjorn didn’t have any expertise or want to start charging anyone interest. “Yes.” Astrid tilted her head in the way Elisif and everyone else knew was shorthand for “can I touch you?” They had stopped asking aloud, but Elisif was still jumpy enough to need a light touch- and she was getting more and more dangerous. Elisif nodded. Astrid patted Elisif on the shoulder. Astrid wanted Nazir to show Elisif the accounting section of his ledger, so she could understand the money’s worth. Astrid said Elisif didn’t have a clue. Nazir was pretty certain Elisif knew the value of everything except labor. “A fourth of every payment goes towards the bounty fund, but it is expected for the more-” Astrid searched for a word that wouldn’t be offensive. Nazir tried not to roll his eyes. “-new assassins to add a little more to the fund. It isn’t required, and you won’t need it much, I think.” Elisif nodded slowly. Her eyes take everything in but do not seem to get the important bits. Nazir shuddered to himself. Her induction to the Dark Brotherhood had been something. Nazir had spent too long looking up at the night sky to be afraid of darkness, but the cold of the void had surrounded Elisif when she was inducted. It made her feel safe, in a way a sharp knife made Nazir feel safe, but it was very cold- and very alluring. “I have an opportunity for you if you would like it.” Nazir butted into Astrid’s prevaricating. The woman was far too fond of Elisif. “Opportunity?” Astrid quirked an eyebrow. Nazir quirked his right back. They had started doing it more once they saw Elisif try and fail to copy them. Elisif would try and raise her own eyebrow if she saw someone else do it- a sort of quirk Nazir and the rest of the Sanctuary were encouraging. “A little bit of housekeeping, its getting us a significant discount with the Thieves Guild- whom you have made a favorable impression on.” Nazir nodded to Elisif. “Congratulations.” Nazir, of course, internally wished they were allowed to assassinate members of the Thieves Guild- Vex in particular. She had made a fool of him once, though she had apologized profusely afterward. Astrid had her own problems with Delvin. For most of Skyrim, if the Dark Brotherhood didn’t have a contract, they didn’t kill. The Thieves Guild continued to try and make the Dark Brotherhood kill for the sheer pleasure of not having to deal with the various thieves- who were too cowardly to kill and stupid enough to make a nuisance. “What’s the job?” Astrid asked. Nazir had not brought this job to her attention, as he was saving it for himself in particular. It was necessary that he spilt some blood every now and then- outside of his duties as Silencer. It kept his blades sharp and his mind from going in on itself. He would never return to Hammerfell, the place or the state of his life there, but he could never exorcise the violence he needed completely. “Pinewatch.” Nazir said with relish. The smuggler and bandits harried that side of the road and were enough of a problem that Vezeera had complained. Apparently, there was a rock trap that made transporting goods or bodies by wagon difficult. It had helped stop a carriage with a target once or twice- but hindered more than it helped. Astrid smiled. It was beautiful and deadly- pale pink lips framing the teeth of a wolf. Nazir would receive no pushback for wanting a jaunt out. “You want to take me?” Elisif asked. Her voice was full of the rousing confidence that she didn’t actually have. “The Guild only wants a silver mold.” Nazir nodded to himself. “I’ll split the goods with you, fifty-fifty- assuming you don’t get us both killed.” Astrid scowled at him like he hadn’t recorded the thousands of mistakes Elisif had dutifully reported after each job. Each of these required more lessons and of everyone’s downtime. Nazir seemed to be the only person in the sanctuary who dreaded each new member. Everyone else seemingly got accustomed to the constant death. He knew the irony of the statement, he didn’t care. He had killed hundreds, maybe even thousands. It was different from losing a young soul whom you had trained and sent out to die. “Why me and not Vezeera or Gabriella?” Elisif asked. “Or even Astrid?” “A couple of reasons,” Nazir said. “For one, I need a lockpick. Jobs like this are nearly impossible without one.” Elisif nodded to herself. This made sense, it was a skill she was excellent and quick at using. “The second is that despite your learning experiences on every job, you run towards the objective. Vezeera and Gabriella are experienced enough to know when to turn back and come at it at another time- and I only want to do this once.”--- Elisif didn’t talk much, not anymore. It was vaguely creepy, but Nazir appreciated it. He rarely got to hold a conversation with anyone but Astrid, with whom he got to speak more than thirty percent of the time. Nazir could see she was listening as well. She would ask questions and Nazir would get to answer them. His sarcastic answers made her face screw up like she wasn’t sure she was allowed to laugh at his jokes- or if he was making fun of her. He did both. The morning before the excursion, Nazir went and saw Cicero. Nazir wasn’t fond of Cicero. He didn’t like the way he continued to provoke Astrid, the way he sidled up to Festus and Vezeera, all while not actually making friends. Babette, Nazir’s favorite purveyor of tea and advice, stood with him- backing Astrid. That didn’t mean he would turn down a little extra luck. Cicero placed the Nightshade oil on Nazir’s eyes and across his throat. Cicero was only quiet during his duties as a keeper. Nazir followed the rest of the steps by rote, even though it had been years since a keeper, or a keeper’s second had done the rites for him. Cicero did the rites and meditations absently. It was often like he did not notice nor care if anyone else was there as he did them. His prayers to the Night Mother were done with the expectation of being unheard. Except they were not unheard, and the Sanctuary was just now starting to get the idea that something was watching over them. It was an odd feeling after being basically left alone after so long in the dark. It was making Astrid paranoid. Elisif had repaired her boots from her last assignment, but she kept looking at them as if she was unsatisfied with her own work. Nazir understood none of Elisif’s work- except maybe her lockpicking- was perfected. Elisif made a multitude of mistakes consistently. She wasn’t a great archer; her sneaking abilities were middling. She was prone to tripping over her own feet. She slowly and steadily would improve over time- and she was an abstract thinker. Most assassins, himself included, had specific ways they went about jobs. They leaned on skills they had perfected- even if a more middling skill would be safer or lead to a greater chance of success. Elisif had no skills to lean on- so her view of the situation put most skills on an equal level. If she survived long enough, Nazir would want to pull her out and put her in charge of assigning jobs- but he would have to start her on lower-paying reconnaissance work. That would require her to have enough confidence in her financials. Nazir sighed to himself and changed the conversation to the job- instead of talking about the various blends of poison and tea he had tried. Elisif had asked about a few- having never tried any. But the night was growing darker, and they were close to their target. “You, unfortunately, will have to be very good at archery. I can cast some basic illusion spells to keep us from sight, but I can only hold off three at a time- badly. Signs lead to the fact they built right over a draugr cave, but it should give you room to shoot.” “Cicero, Babette, and I poisoned my arrows the other day.” Elisif nodded, almost to herself. She had started to do that lately, murmur the names of their comrades. A constant reminder of every good deed anyone in the Sanctuary did her- repeated into listening air. “Vezeera has taught you well enough with the dagger,” Nazir said. “I am going to be drawing as much attention to me as I can- so you are going to be as fast as possible when your arrows can’t stop the targets. And do please remember that I am not a target, I am not ready to start taking arrows to the knee.” “I promise I won’t marry you.” Elisif laughed. It was one of the first jokes of his she had laughed at. “Marry me?” Nazir lifted his eyebrow. Elisif tried to copy him- she was getting better. “An arrow to the knee- it means you got married.” Elisif smiled, happy she had understood something. It was a little like a puppy pulling a steak off a table. Nazir indulged her. It wasn’t like he had been hearing that phrase all over Skyrim and it had been driving him bonkers trying to figure it out. “Nords do not make any sense.” Elisif took the bait and started talking. Nazir happily let her talk the rest of the way. No matter how much he liked to talk, he did not want to be the sole entertainment. Pinewatch had enough locks in the first bit for Nazir to be grateful he brought Elisif. Elisif had told him he could have handled it, but Nazir didn’t particularly want to crouch in front of a door and snap thirty of the little things while someone snuck up on him. Elisif unlocked it in under thirty seconds with less than one lockpick. The main floor was empty except for a note, a knife, and some vegetables. “There is a treasure room.” “I’ve heard of a Strong Arm before.” Elisif’s tone indicated that her brow was furrowed under her cowl. Nazir glanced at her. Elisif had a ridiculous memory of names. There was scarcely anyone the Brotherhood brought up that Elisif hadn’t heard a story of or met. It was another reason Nazir wanted her on reconnaissance. Elisif was good with subtilities for people who didn’t like each other. She understood why a person eating steak was an insult to certain clans and why it was important. These small bits of information had saved everyone in the Sanctuary’s life at least once or twice- and saved Nazir from making a few cock ups in job assignments. “She has a bounty in Haafinger or did a year ago. Beat a man to death after losing some sort of contest. She was known for a quick temper and a strong arm.” “You don’t say.” Nazir gave Elisif a moment to think that over. “You know her weapon of choice?” “Warhammer, I think. She served with Ulfric during the Great War. There was an argument with Ulfric’s housecarl, Galmar- so she ended up settling in Solitude.” “What’s the cost of a killing these days?” Nazir asked. “In Haafinger? A thousand gold and a week in jail, most of the time. Killing a child or a pregnant person is longer and may get you executed- but that’s only in fights or accidents. Assassination paid for or committed, or preplanned murder depends on its reasoning. Kinslaying or treasonous killing is execution.” “I would be dead several times over then,” Nazir said thoughtfully. “Not sure if it’s better or worse than Hammerfell.” Elisif shuddered. “But this woman would only have to pay a thousand gold and spend a week in jail?” “I am learning the cost of things is different than I thought,” Elisif said slowly. “But if I remember correctly, Falk paid the Dragonborn twelve thousand gold for getting rid of Potema. Most bandit clearing is less, and very few people do it alone or have the ability to support a housecarl.” “You need numbers with most of them, at least three archers.” “So we should have brought Cicero?” “Woman, I would have murdered the fool the instant he started singing.” Nazir grit his teeth. He hated sharing the sanctuary with the man. If Nazir wasn’t too busy holding Astrid back, Astrid would be holding him back. You need at least ten for an average-size bandit camp. Three if it’s small and you have a good archer.” “So, one hundred twenty septims per person, if everyone is paid like the Dragonborn. Forgetting expenses- that bounty is over eight jobs. Plus eating and feeding costs. We pay our guards fifty septims per working day, that’s a month’s work.” “Plus, you don’t have any loot to sell afterward.” Nazir tapped his mouth. “The Brotherhood pays well,” Elisif said thoughtfully. “I cut wood in Ivarstead for five septims a piece. Narfi said they only pay every other day for that work- and there is a limit. I earned quite a bit.” “So, assuming there were no other expenses- which there are always going to be-and many of them- you’re going to be set back significantly if you get in a fight,” Nazir said. “Well, we don’t want them to do it again.” Elisif was using the royal we again. Nazir chuckled to himself. Then he froze. His hand went to his scimitar. Elisif turned around and basically disappeared from his sight, but Nazir could feel her heat behind him. There was a very angry Argonian with a battleax staring at them. “You’re not supposed to be here.” Nazir smiled. “Of course we are, friend.” Nazir tilted his head. “Strong-Arm sent for us. She said she thinned the herd a bit too much.” The Argonian dropped his ax slowly. “Apologies.” The Argonian stepped forward as Elisif came up behind him and slid her dagger under his ribs and into his lungs. A rush of air wheezed out of him. The gills that Argonians could sometimes have and sometimes hide opened and closed frantically. Elisif pulled out her dagger from his side and stabbed each eyeball and slit his throat. Nazir stepped around the corpse. “Good job.” Nazir tried not to think about Elisif’s signature killings. Astrid loved them. Nazir didn’t like how it seemed to mirror the Night Mother’s blessing. “Shall we go?” Elisif asked, wiping her dagger on the side of her leg. Nazir loved the sound of metal on leather and the smell of iron in the air. His heart started beating quicker and his mouth dried up as he stared at Elisif. He nodded. It didn’t take long for Nazir to find the button to move the bookcase in the basement. Elisif was trying to figure out how they would move the bookcase once they noticed air was moving under it. “No, they have to get in and out- quickly,” Nazir said when she asked how he knew. There was a bucket full of wine glasses that Nazir picked up and put on the table. “Get your bow ready, but don’t draw it.” Nazir concentrated and was able to summon a small ball of light. “You walk down first but be prepared to duck and run if anyone gets too close.” “Won’t they see the light?” “Of course, they will see the light.” Nazir said, rolling his eyes. “Stand a little to the side- there and, good.” Nazir moved Elisif so she was just in the shadow. Nazir was probably visible, but barely. “You’re bait?” Elisif asked, hidden in the darkness. Her hand was a cool brand on his hip- a signal to her position. This was really unfair how many of Nazir’s buttons she was pushing. “Yes, so be quiet.” Nazir walked down the tunnel and stumbled into- A misty tomb. There were a lot of bandits- one person could make a tomb uncomfortably hot. This tomb was causing water to turn into a dense, foggy mist. Ugh. Elisif naturally took the best spot, back against the wall, up on a bookshelf, arrow already knocked. Nazir crouched so he was below the natural line of sight. “Fire when ready.” Nazir whispered. Elisif fired three shots in quick succession. Her accuracy was not great, but the jester had focused on speed- not accuracy. “She is not in battle.” Cicero had said when talking to Vezeera. “She will almost never have more than five targets at a time. She does not need to focus on preserving arrows. She needs to kill quickly so she can run. People who are over concerned with accuracy in the beginning make very slow archers. Practice makes you accurate. Cicero will teach her speed. Pretty Elisif will teach herself accuracy.” Nazir listened to the dying throws of a man in some remarkably bad iron armor. There was a loud yell from someone with arrow wound- Nazir would guess the thigh, from the way the screams rose and the sound of a body falling. Then he heard the stomping run of someone carrying a very large weapon- probably meant to hit whoever was firing the arrows. Nazir stood and turned to the side, watching as a very angry Nord moved towards him, attempting to cleave Elisif in two with an ax. The Nord was very large and was not wearing a neck piece. Tsk. Tsk. Nazir ducked under the swing of the Nord’s ax, an acrobatic move that almost always killed his knees. He stood and slashed against where the neck met the shoulder. The Nord dropped. Blood sprayed. Nazir felt the tension fall from his shoulders. This was exactly what he needed. Well, almost. Astrid had made him quit torturing people in the sanctuary, though. --- Nazir, when he was younger, had enjoyed taking younger siblings on jobs. He found whatever patience he had now was stretched thin. “Do not walk on the middle of the bridge like an idiot.” Nazir snapped, under his breath. “They are all dead.” Elisif looked at him, eyebrows twitching. It wasn’t cute. “Can you see anything in this fog?” Nazir asked. “Cicero would be ashamed to see you walking-” Elisif’s shoulders curled in on herself, but her face turned into a snarl. Her green eyes gleamed in the light. Nazir bit back the rest of his reply. “Assume someone is watching. Now- lets test these doors.” One door was barred- and the hinges were on the other side of the door- so they couldn’t get the door open that way. The other door only had a lock. Nazir stood back and watched as Elisif pulled out her lockpicks from her belt and began to work. She wasn’t a graceful person, Nazir thought to himself. His eyes trailed down the line of her spine to where her legs folded into a crouch. The muscles in her back had been trained to keep straight, and tall- Nazir wanted to see if he could loosen them- if he could press on her lower back and make her groan in satisfaction if he could drag his nails across her upper back and make her arch. Nazir often thought about how he could manipulate a person’s body to make them react- but he rarely wanted to do so with his bare hands. He kept a smile on his face as Elisif unlocked the door and pulled out a few potions. “Why is there a wine cabinet so close to the entrance?” Elisif asked. “Probably a stash for the people on the late shift,” Nazir said. “Most of the time there is nothing to do but get drunk when you are on random guard duty. It’s not near enough to the entrance for them to think they are in actual danger.” “I would drink just to deaden that smell.” Elisif wrinkled her nose. “Smell?” Nazir had lost most of his sense of smell during one of Festus’ explosions. Elisif motioned for him to follow as she led him down a ramp to- A pit of dead bodies. “Sithis.” Nazir bit his lip. “Looks like that was a deadly smell.” “That was awful.” Elisif whispered as they made their way back up the ramp. They explored the area some more but found nothing else of interest when they moved on. “Oh, this is going to be a challenge,” Nazir said. “Fog, a huge cavern, and uncertain sightlines. What do you think?” “I think we have the advantage here.” Elisif pulled up her cowl and mask. “They all have two-handed weapons and no chest armor. They only have the advantage in numbers.” Nazir grinned. “Only if they know we are here. Shoot the far wall” Elisif pulled out her bow and shot where Nazir pointed. The two figures in the mist ran off. Other voices came out of the shadows. “Five of them.” Nazir pulled Elisif over to a tall stack of barrels stand and boosted her up. She pulled herself on top of the barrels with more noise than Nazir would have liked, but it didn’t seem to attract any attention. “Pick them off.” Elisif aimed and fired. Nazir had his sword ready, but it wasn’t necessary. The bandits ran around like headless chickens while Elisif loosed arrow after arrow at them. “How many arrows did you lose?” Nazir asked when she was done. “Fourteen, none of the poison.” Elisif tilted and cracked her neck. “That wasn’t so bad.” “No, you did well. You got right to the point.” Nazir watched as she jumped off the barrels, unafraid of heights. “I can’t use a bow myself, but it is a favorite of the Brotherhood for a reason.” Nazir ambled about the room, looking for bits and pieces. “Well, look at this- shiny.” Nazir held up a silver necklace- blue gems shining in the torchlight. He pulled it out of a sideways chest and found himself appreciative. “You think Gabriella would like this?” “Gabriella doesn’t like silver,” Elisif said as she absently pulled out a dark green robe from a dresser. It was obviously riddled with holes- but Elisif seemed contemplative about it. “Astrid and Babette don’t either, for obvious reasons.” Nazir sighed. “Vezerra could use the stones,” Elisif said. “Think he’s courting someone.” Nazir hadn’t heard this. “Who?” “No idea. He’s just been talking to me about courtship- what my husband did for me, what it was like for him growing up.” Nazir smiled to himself. “Are you sure he isn’t courting you?” “Yes,” Elisif said flatly, and no matter how much Nazir wheedled he couldn’t get any more of a story from her. There was an uncomfortable stretch of silence. Which was why they were both surprised by the bandit in full armor appearing out of the mist. Nazir knocked Elisif down, giving her the momentum to roll away- while using the movement to dodge to the side and drive a knee between the warrior’s legs. The Nord bent double, allowing Nazir to smoothly draw his scimitar and whack the man’s helmetless head with the flat of his blade. The skull cracked where the blade hit it. Elisif, who recovered, dived forward and stabbed the man in the back of his spine with one of her daggers. The whole business took less than thirty seconds. They were hardly even bloody. “I like two-person jobs,” Elisif said, and Nazir was sure she was smiling under her mask. Nazir hummed under his breath. Sweat was running down his face, and his heartbeat was thundering in his ears. He felt everything within him stretch a bit- like a bear coming out of a cave for Winter. “That was only one, lets’ see about another group fight.” There were several of those to choose from for the next several rooms- Elisif was getting better, letting herself be directed by Nazir in the different ways to take down several opponents. She started asking questions after each break- why did Nazir have her hide in some rooms and find high ground in others? Why did Nazir go first sometimes- but make her go first at other times? As Nazir got increasingly drunk on the sight of blood and the feel of adrenaline, he told her. He explained how he could cast detect life and detect dead and how he could guess how a room was set up. He told her about the different dynamics of large groups and what the different leaders made the rest of the group act like. He started to find everything funnier. Elisif amused him by picking a carrot out of a barrel, so he plucked the carrot from her hand and took a bite. This made her giggle, which made him laugh, which made them shake in the middle of a room full of dead bodies. It was only when they got to a room filled with noise traps that Nazir felt his back go up. Elisif had a gem in one of her pouches from a room in the back and kept touching it. She was distracted. Nazir flicked her on the head. “This is gonna be a fight,” Nazir said. “Poison arrows, stay behind me. We are close to a treasure room I think.”Nazir considered the room.“Actually, stay here.” Nazir pulled out a dagger and crept about the room, avoiding noise makers. Behind a door was a woman in full plate, sleeping.Nazir had an idea. He crept back to Elisif.“I am about to endanger your life for training purposes.” And for comedic purposes. The darker reason, the one that sat under Nazir’s collarbone in a tense icy ball- was that as happy as Nazir was, he couldn’t stand the waiting anymore. He couldn’t like Elisif, couldn’t watch her and teach her if she was going to die soon. The best way to deal with the problem was to get it over with- to make sure she got herself killed before he cared more than he already did- before he started fantasizing about the way she screamed in pleasure or pain.Elisif stiffened.“Behind that wall is a woman in full-plate mail- asleep.”“Uncomfortable.”“You know, that does seem to be an odd choice.” Nazir felt a little giddy. “You are going to sneak in and cut her throat.”“That sounds like a suicide mission.”“Maybe.” Nazir allowed. “Just think of it this way- this will be the toughest sneaking you will ever have to do. Accomplish this, and you won’t have to worry about your skills again.”Elisif opened her mouth to argue with him.“Take too long, and she might wake up. Your pretty little bow and my scimitar isn’t piercing through that armor.”Elisif lowered herself into a crouch and started edging around the room- avoiding the noisemakers. The tension was curdled in Nazir’s spine. It was making him giddy. The small voice that was screaming for him to stop- to think- was ignored as it always was when he got like this.Then, at the last moment, she tripped and fell into a noisemaker by the door. The shifting of the bones wasn’t loud, but it filled the room with dread. Nazir’s worry suddenly overcame his bloodlust.
What had he done.
Nazir was frozen, but Elisif didn’t have the instincts of a professional sneak yet. She jumped for the top of the partition between the rooms- accidentally knocking over a mammoth skull that was settled at the top.She knocked it on top of the bed apparently.There was a loud grunting noise before Elisif fell over the side of the partition as well. Her arms wheeling out in order to regain her balance, an ultimately wasted movementNazir was slightly worried before he heard the telltale signs of someone getting their throat cut. There was a rush of air, but no scream- no yell. The softest wheeze of air was the only announcement of death by dagger.Elisif walked around the partition, dusting herself off.“I meant to do that,” Elisif said with a dignified expression.“Well, as long as she had a crushing defeat.”They burst into giggles at the same time. Nazir didn’t have the sense of relief he expected at her survival, but he did feel content. The worry that had been battering at him went to a gentle push. It was all he could really ask for. The carriage they commandeered had to be drawn by two horses. The carriage was heavy with gold and armor and various weapons. Elisif kept stealing glances at the solid steel set they had pulled off Strong-Arm.“You’re going to be a rich woman,” Nazir said as they rode to the sanctuary in the dawning light. Birds were singing, there was the sound of water in the distance. It was a time Nazir desperately wished to be asleep. “Yes.” Elisif seemed a little stunned by the thought. Her mouth moved as she slowly calculated how much money she thought they earned.“If we make less than three thousand for all that armor together- I would not be surprised. We found about two thousand gold pieces, and then our werewolf friend will use the ore to add to our jewelry collection- which will be in the ten-thousand range.”“I could buy a house.” Elisif seemed startled. “A few more jobs, and I could buy a house in Solitude.”Nazir grinned to himself, so she could.So she could.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
When Elisif returned from Pinewatch, a rich woman, Cicero’s eyes started to consider her in the manner of a hawk observing a worm. His brown eyes gleamed in torchlight- highlighting a strain of fanaticism. While Elisif spent more time training with others, Cicero would take her aside and talk to her about Night Mother, highlighting her sacrifice for her love of Sithis. He would take her hand and trace the bones of her fingers. She was pulled to the coffin to have the blessings put on her every day. Astrid tried to ease Elisif away from Cicero’s company, but Elisif resented the interference. Astrid was a good friend, but Elisif had never quite gotten over the thought that Cicero was safe. The longer she stayed in the Sanctuary, the clearer it became that she had been very close to death when she first arrived. She had learned to read the Brotherhood’s faces. Every one of the members was going to kill her at one point. Nazir still might, though Elisif did not think it was through any fault of her own. Nazir was Astrid’s Silencer, the one person in the Falkreath Sanctuary that could decide if a brother or sister lived or died. He judged them on the tenants- as decided by Astrid. Cicero hadn’t changed- or rather, the feeling of safety hadn’t changed. Elisif was sure Cicero was connected to her. A chain wrapped from her hand to his heart- She only had to give the right tug. Everyone wanted to know about Elisif’s retirement or what she could invest in-, occupied with the doings of the living. Elisif was torn and tired until Cicero had laid Nightshade oil on her eyes and traced her collarbone with the purple oil. She slept more deeply in the presence of the Night Mother, listening to the Keeper hum his tune. It was a tune that promised everyone in the Sanctuary would steer clear of the chapel. She felt very normal around the rest of the sanctuary. She felt better than normal- she felt happy. It didn’t matter that they were planning to kill her when she felt so accepted- she didn’t feel as good around Torygg as she did in the Sanctuary- but it still did not hold a candle to spending time in the same room as Cicero. It was not euphoric, not like killing someone was (or how she was learning it could be). A more accurate description would be of falling into a perfect sort of sleep- deep and dreamless. Elisif did not exist in any way that mattered- but pain and sorrow could not reach her. Elisif resented Astrid interfering the way a person resents being woken from a deep sleep in a good bed. Though Cicero made the dreams of such a sleep a problem. “Sister,” He said as she mended a hole in her armor. “Dear Sister- what have you learned of the Tenants.” Cicero made sure she could recite the Tenants from memory- so she did. Her voice was slow and deep- echoing in the chamber. The chamber around her seemed hazy, but she thought she saw the face of the Night Mother twist as she repeatedly invoked the wrath of Sithis. “Do you know what it means, sweet sister, to break the tenants?” Elisif hummed absently. “Do you know who has to carry the punishment of the brother or sister?” “Nazir, right?” Elisif asked. “He is the silencer.” Cicero cackled. “Yes, Yes, Yes! Dear Nazir is such a good silencer. So quick! So -deadly.” Cicero purred. “But if the Night Mother,” Cicero stopped a moment to pet the corpse. “Sweet Mother was to choose a Listener again- Cicero worries it will lead to problems. The silencer’s loyalty should be to the Mother, not Astrid.” “Astrid has been serving the Mother for years- without hearing her voice, Cicero. Just like you have.” Elisif was too relaxed to be irritated. Instead, her thoughts of Astrid turned to her blonde hair and how her hands would rub Elisif’s shoulders after bow practice. She wished Astrid would feel the comfort Elisif felt in the presence of the Night Mother and that she could put aside her hatred of Cicero. Laying in Astrid’s arms, Cicero occupied with something besides grilling Elisif- all in the presence of the Night Mother- Elisif could imagine nothing more perfect. “If pretty Elisif were to be told by the Listener-” “Elisif would do her best to stay loyal, Cicero.” Babette was by the door, holding items for the blessings. “Being part of the Dark Brotherhood means making hard choices. Even when it comes to the death of a brother or sister.” Babette’s teeth flashed at Cicero, and Cicero gave a small giggle. “Elisif, come help me harvest some frostbite venom.” Babette handed her basket to Cicero before pulling Elisif to her feet and pushing her out of the room. “You shouldn’t let Cicero talk so much,” Babette said. “The third tenant is more important than the last. You may be told to kill someone whom you would rather not.” Babette looked at her under her lashes. “It’s best to be prepared to die if you don’t wish to kill, and I like you, Elisif.” As the feeling of being in the Night Mother’s presence faded, a slow chill started to creep down Elisif’s spine- doom-like ice.<><><><> Like Elisif got used to muscle aches and the feeling of the bowstring in the divots of her hands, Elisif got used to the sense of doom that followed her about the Sanctuary. It screeched around her nerves as Astrid continued to show her friendship. Cicero’s words and Babette’s warnings started carving themselves into her brain until she couldn’t continue to spend time with Astrid alone, escaping to Nazir and Babette. She felt the widening gulf and tried to spend more time with Astrid in the company of others- but it did not work. She was certain Babette reported the conversation between herself and Cicero to Astrid. The gulf between Cicero and the rest of the Sanctuary widened, but in such a way that Elisif felt the need to excuse Cicero and assure Astrid of her loyalty simultaneously. The discontent echoed through her bones while she was in the Sanctuary. On the day she has lined up for a new job, she woke from a dream of Astrid trapped in dragonfire- her body crisp and her voice hoarsely asking for forgiveness. She heard Cicero’s voice behind her, laughing. Elisif swallowed her cries and wished to beg for forgiveness herself. Astrid has been nothing but kind to her. She also felt an overwhelming rage that seemed eddy and flowed with Cicero’s laughter. Unless there was a need for specialization, contracts were given out on rotation. The day Elisif was to receive a contract, Astrid and Nazir were arguing.There were too many arguments to deal with in the Sanctuary. Elisif opened the paper Astrid handed her as Nazir scowled. feeling a certain amount of relief at the chance to leave the sanctuary. The thoughts of the problems and people of the sanctuary kept her occupied ten seconds after she read the name. Narfi of Ivarstead. The beggar who had helped her when she was a beggar while he wore rags. She had told Nazir and Astrid about him when she came back. She had wanted to go back to show her gratitude, but Astrid had vetoed the idea for a bit- and then Narfi slipped Elisif’s mind.“I have another contract if you would prefer, Elisif.” Nazir stood at Astrid’s back. He was slightly slumped with his hand wrapped around the hilt of his scimitar. The neutral expression from both him and Astrid made Elisif nervous.Her conversations with Cicero came back to her- the Tenants and Nazir’s role as Silencer. Elisif felt a bit of betrayal in her bones. Her hands didn’t shake anymore, and her face didn’t give anything away.“I am happy to serve the Dark Brotherhood,” Elisif said quietly. The Night Mother hummed in the back of her head, displeased.A slow grin spread on Astrid’s face. She leaned forward, letting her breath caress Elisif’s cold face. What was once a comfort was now an insult. Astrid brushed her lips against Elisif’s cheek.“Hunt Well.” <><><><> Elisif was numb the entire way to Ivarstead. She felt cold. Sometimes she felt light fingers brush up her neck. The Nightmother was displeased, and her anger felt like a stone growing in her stomach. Stress pushed the stone against her heart sometimes, and she had to stop and vomit. It was not Elisif’s job to know the reason for someone to perform the sacrament, to follow the will of the Night Mother- silent to all but Elisif. Elisif had a brief wish for the little power she had wielded in Solitude- but she would have still had little control over the death of a beggar in Windhelm’s territory. Elisif imagined herself as a competent and powerful queen- and when that failed she thought about how she would execute a coup throughout Skyrim as an assassin. It was far to late to hope- but her imagination distracted her from her anxiety for a little while. She walked through the rain. She stayed awake as long as she could, trying to make exhaustion take the place of her anxiety. She embraced the pain of walking- the pull of muscles and the rubbing of blisters as she made her way up pass Helgan into the mountains. When she had gone too far to remember why she should be exhausted, she curled up underneath a bush and slept. There was an eternal smell of dragon fire and the icy taste of frost breath in Skyrim. Dragons did not leave many areas free of fire or ice. Elisif prayed for sleep without the nightmares that plagued her lately. The Night Mother might have listened. She did not dream, and the relief of the void was not a comfort when she woke- her heart beating faster and acid behind her teeth. Her back was stiff with her position and the cold. I can’t be doing this. Elisif said to herself, turning to go back to the Sanctuary. As her third step snapped a piece of pine fallen from a nearby tree, she saw a group of Stormcloak soldiers. The soldiers that deserved to die. The soldiers that were ruining Skyrim by working for a murderer. Elisif ignored her own profession, as she had no longer been a queen when she killed her first thinking being. A grotesque feeling of pettiness overcame her.She ran to a nearby tree and crawled up the trunk- using pine needles to hide. These were better targets than a beggar in Ivarstead. Perhaps their deaths would be more satisfying as well. Elisif pulled her bow off her back and strung it, watching as the group walked beneath her. She listened as they talked, unaware of the doom above them. Elisif listened with half an ear, growing more and more content with the knowledge she was sending the beings to the void. “Galmar and Ulfric are already coming up with a force to deal with all the immigration problems. I am hoping to be on it. Stay in Windhelm, put my feet up every night. I’ll find a pretty girl.” “Sheef, I think I would go after a woman.” “You mean like Niranya?” The Argonian asked, her voice deep and raspy. Elisif had a moment of pity for the poor Argonian, it was cold and uncomfortable for Nords, let along someone in a mage’s robe. The Redguard laughed at the poor woman in heavy chainmail as she scowled at the Argonian. “Altmer bitch needs to figure out who is actually in charge of Windhelm. It isn’t anyone who would protect her.” “Oh, so you would?” The Redguard stopped to lean on his bow. They were right below Elisif. “I could at least get her out of trouble with whatever mess she is caught up in. Elf looks spooked. It might not matter, though. Word is Ulfric is planning on that citizenship test.” The Argonian nodded. “Anyone who passes will be allowed to roam Skyrim, able to enter the cities. I am hoping my service will allow me and my family into Windhelm.” “What are they going to do with the Dunmer, I wonder, they are refusing the test until their section of the city is repaired. Which is strange, because they aren’t paying taxes.” “None of my business.” The Argonian said primly. “I can’t enter the city on account of you Nords worrying about the Dunmer. Argonians haven’t been able to enter the city for generations.” “Maybe Ulfric can send them to Solthstiem. They can get out of our hair.” The Nord smiled at the thought. “And maybe he’ll send me back to Hammerfell.” The Redguard said, eyebrow raised. “You’re not an elf, Vhone. Besides, you are one of the best bards in the army. We won’t know what to do without you. You’re going to drum the beat that leads us to Solitude- maybe even the Dominion.” Vhone looked slightly pleased by this. The Argonian let his tongue out to taste the air for a moment. He looked up to see Elisif pointing an arrow at him. He didn’t have time to cry out, none of them did. Elisif took off their heads with one of their weapons, and then took a spear and impaled all three heads on the stick. She shoved the spear deep into the ground, so all passing travelers would see the heads. It was the punishment Nords would give traitors when they were fleeing the Dragon Cult. In those days, a traitor could mean the death of everyone they ever knew. Elisif was tired of watching Stormcloak soldiers destroy Skyrim and the Empire. Ulfric still had to pay for taking her husband’s life- But this would do for now. The righteousness of her actions pushed her feet closer to Ivarstead. The executions balanced the Elisif’s mind- the killing of three enemies was proper tribute to killing a friend. The Nightmother was not pleased with the extra sacrifices- or rather, her displeasure was not easing. Ivarstead loomed in Elisif’s head the way Castle Dour stood tall next to the gate in Solitude. There was no avoiding the walk, and Elisif had slept too well to use her exhaustion as a distraction. She made herself eat a few bites of bread and sip cold coffee from a flask. It was a better way to drink stamina potions. The leaves were changing, Bears were lumbering through the woods. They gave Elisif a cautious look, but seemed to regard her as a predator. Elisif continued to pick off small groups of Stormcloak soldiers- and while it calmed the beating of her heart- it did nothing about the stone in her stomach. She continued to put their heads on spears, exposing the traitors to all who would see them. The animals did not touch the heads, but Elisif seemed content to throw their bodies to the lean wolves of Skyrim. She arrived in Ivarstead in midafternoon. She didn’t try and blend in. She wore her Dark Brotherhood armor proudly- though no one could focus their eyes on her form. She hiked her way to the top of the waterfall- above the house Narfi lived in. He was fishing by the shore, munching on a piece of cheese. It was not a cold day. The sun shone brightly behind clouds. Elisif made her way to a stone that stuck out of the waterfall- a solid piece of stone inside a torrent of water. She sat on the edge of the stone and pulled out her knife. It was an old iron one like she had gotten from Morthal. It may have even been the same knife. Elisif wasn’t sure if she was keeping track of everything over the last year. She flipped it over in her hand a few times. She had been afraid of Lydia, then. She had been afraid of everyone when she had earned it. Her fear made her not question the people around her. And here she was, afraid once again. They were her friends and she was still afraid. Everything around her had changed. The fear remained. The problem must be her. Elisif considered the idea for a second. She toyed with it. People didn’t always choose to be afraid, but they could decide whether or not to listen to it. It had been moving Elisif since she was engaged to Torygg. She was afraid to ask Torygg if life was always going to be like it was when they were engaged. She had been scared to find Tyre after she fled Whiterun- even if she had her memories back. She was especially scared of questioning Astrid. The layer of kindness they showed her no longer hide the fact the Dark Brotherhood were assassins, and they were good at their job. She looked up to see Narfi shielding his eyes looking up at her. He raised a hand to hail her. Elisif could see the callous of an ax pressed into his hand. She had scars from the blisters she had gained in similar places. For all the confliction in her head and heart, Elisif didn’t hesitate. Elisif threw the knife before he could call out. It struck true- hitting him in the eye. He didn’t make a sound Elisif could hear over rushing water. <><><><>Elisif left Ivarstead having been seen by only a dead man, but wishing she had the courage to protect him- and with every step she walked back to the Sanctuary, she turned the anger she had at herself to anger at Astrid and Nazir. It did not hold a candle to the anger and hatred she had for Falk, but it was of the same flavor. She had not calmed down by the time she saw Astrid waiting for her at the entrance to the second section of the Sanctuary. The sight of her smile allowed Elisif to deflate a bit. “How did it go?” Astrid asked, her face both eager and afraid. “It was done. No complications.” Elisif said, biting her tongue in order to stop herself from saying anything else, emotions still curled up within her. “I am sorry I had you do that, Elisif.” Astrid said, adjusting her expression into contrition. Elisif could read something in her eyes, though. She wasn’t sure if she liked it. “Most of the time, we let members of the Dark Brotherhood switch targets if we personally know the target in a positive fashion. But you have more than proved your willingness to make sacrifices for the Dark Brotherhood.” It was victory in her eyes. Elisif realized. It was a test laid out to the newest member- to see if she would allow herself to be harmed in the place of her siblings.“It was a test?” Elisif asked, her voice a bit broken. She had known Narfi was a dead man the moment she was handed his name, but she hadn’t realized it was not common practice for the Dark Brotherhood to send out people familiar and on good terms with the contract. It was a test. “Why?” Elisif asked. She could feel Narfi’s life blood on her hands. She hadn’t touched the body- but she still saw and felt the result of her work. “Look,” Astrid said, rubbing her hands up and down Elisif’s arms. Elisif resisted the urge to flinch. It was like being back in the Blue Palace. “It isn’t usually this- tense. I haven’t been sure who to trust. You know how it is living with people for years. Bad feelings can build up. You and I don’t have any bad blood. I only tested you, because you were the only one I thought would succeed.” The only one who could not avoid Astrid’s manipulations. “Cicero has been erratic recently.” Astrid said, moving on to what she wanted Elisif to do. Elisif listened numbly as Astrid explained her thoughts on a betrayal. She talked about how Cicero was talking in the room of the Night Mother- and until recently, Astrid had thought Cicero had been talking to Elisif. But the talking continued when Elisif had left. “I don’t understand.” “You’ve proven your loyalty to the Dark Brotherhood.” Astrid said. “You’re willing to put your own feelings aside for the sake of the group. I need you to do that again.” Elisif felt her stomach clench. “I need you to spy on Cicero.” Elisif felt some tension go out of her body. She wasn’t going to have to kill Cicero. “I need to know who he is talking to, who I need to do damage control on.” Astrid rubbed her hands up and down Elisif’s arms as she saw the look on Elisif’s face. Her hands were like hot brands even through gloves and leather. “The Dark Brotherhood’s survival depends on unity. Who do I need to reconcile with, not kill. I would never-” Elisif nodded. She knew Astrid. She would never risk her brothers and sisters. Astrid was so careful. “I think I might have more luck just asking, rather than spying.” “No! No. He is acting erratic. I want you safe. I just want you to hide in the coffin.” “You want me to lockpick the Night Mother’s coffin and hide in there. I’ll suffocate.” “Leave the door open a little bit. I won’t let you die if you get caught by Cicero.” Astrid pressed her head against Elisif’s. “Please, sister.” Elisif took a deep breath. The Nightmother’s displeasure was easing. “Of course, Astrid.” Elisif wished she was not so angry that she could relax into her embrace. It was an easy lock to pick. She pulled the coffin doors closed gently, trying to keep them cracked open- only to have them swing shut behind her. Elisif had a moment of panic, but she was able to take a deep breath in. The taste of nightshade filled her, and she felt her heartbeat slow. Embrace me child. Warm my bones. Elisif obediently leaned against the corpse. She was gentle, but even the slightest pressure caused a slight crackle of skin and a groan of old bones. Elisif closed her eyes in the dark and did not open them until she heard Cicero’s voice echo in the coffin. The desperate agony of a lonely man would tear anyone’s heart. Elisif pressed her head against the Night Mother’s. Astrid was quite correct; Cicero was plotting against her. But, the whole Sanctuary knew they were at odds. But, the Sanctuary was Astrid’s- Cicero only had Elisif as a close friend. Outside of the rivalry he had with Vezeera and the ritual performance of his duty, he lived a lonely life. Elisif listened to the Night Mother speak to her quietly. Listened to her quiet demands to talk to Cicero, to tell him the words the Night Mother spoke to her. Elisif knew she should fight against saying the phrase. The Dark Brotherhood’s survival depended on unity, Astrid wasn’t wrong. Elisif would serve Astrid as the Listener, but it would bring disunity that Cicero would capitalize on. The Night Mother caressed her spirit, and a sort of high came upon her- the opposite of the languor that usually overcame her in the Night Mother’s presence.
Darkness rises when silence dies.
Elisif was clinging to the light with the last of her innocence. The part of her that married the High King’s son without any thought of what it would actually mean. The little part of her that still loved the man who helped trap her in the Blue Palace, the part of her that roared like she was Queen when she wielded no power. That part of her resisted the idea of being a prophet of the void. Yet, it would be so easy to slip into the darkness- to feed it. The blessed numbness, the lack of anxiety- all replaced by a certainty of who she was and what she was supposed to do- and she would gain Cicero as a Keeper. A man as bound to her as she was to him- with the power in her hands. Neither of them would ever be alone again. Her lips itched as she craved it, just for a moment. She let the possibility seep over her just in time for Cicero to swing open the doors. And as Cicero screamed at her, Elisif wrapped her two hands around his neck and squeezed, pulling him towards her. He was still an assassin despite his adherence to the Tenants, so Elisif was careful. She squeezed harder and leaned to whisper in his ear. The words in the air would have caused silence in any other Keeper but Cicero, Elisif was sure. She almost wondered if Cicero was destined to be the only living thing to care for the Night Mother’s corpse. Perhaps she did not want to be lonely either. Cicero- five inches shorter than Elisif- scooped her up. He grabbed onto her thighs and lifted her to the ceiling, spinning until long after she was dizzy. “It’s you! It’s the pretty Elisif- Blessed by Sithis!” Cicero howled in delight. Which is when Astrid entered, knives at the ready. The blades were steady in her hand. “Put her down, Keeper.” “Cicero does not answer to Astrid anymore! Oh, no! Cicero answers to the Listener.” Cicero gestured to Elisif, who did not blush.Astrid’s face twisted the way Elisif’s did in the mirror after her world had fallen to bits.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Elisif walks into Windhelm the second time, but as Listener. Elisif no longer feels cold, the Void has no warmth, of course, but the chill of the Sanctuary for the last week has made the coldest of weather welcome. Nazir, Night Mother, bless his kills, put together this mission as a means of challenging Elisif- and getting her out of Astrid’s hair- as well as Cicero out of Elisif’s hair. Three contracts are to be done in ten days- the length of time Ulfric Stormcloak is to be gone, trying to sway the new masters of Riften to his cause. Riften had gone through two Jarls in many years, and no one knew the third person who sat in Mistevil Keep. To Elisif’s knowledge, no one could put a positive identification on her, and even fewer could hold her in the city. It was a perfect storm, allowing Elisif to kill more Stormcloaks- a habit she had developed after being named Listener. It had allowed her to pull herself into the good graces of the other members of the Sanctuary. Babette appreciated the blood, Arnbjorn the meat. Vezeera enjoyed the chase, and Gabriella enjoyed putting her seduction techniques to use. This constant hobby of Elisif’s was an outlet and activity the rest of them enjoyed. The comradery eased their worries about Elisif attempting a power play against Astrid. As Nazir said, Elisif was shit at leading by past examples, but Cicero could do a lot of damage in her name. Elisif wanted the Shattershield murder to look like a violent crime committed by one of the town’s occupants, giving her enough time to move onto the Mill and kill Papius. Then she would move south and take out a local bandit leader. The story Muire gave Gabriella was heartbreaking. It was difficult to be cast out of your home, left alone by people you were supposed to trust. Elisif had been kicked out of her home, by people she knew were supposed to protect her. Elisif had never had the unfortunate chance to trust them. Elisif didn’t lean into the large fire placed in front of the Candlehearth Inn, though she dearly wanted to, she let a hand flow out over it for just a moment- feeling the heat go from her palm to burning the inside of her wrist. She wore a simple barmaid dress for this mission. Though the city didn’t seem to do anything about the Arentino boy’s call on the Dark Brotherhood, another member showing up may cause too much scrutiny. She placed one foot in front of the other, trying to make herself look less like- as Gabrielle called her these days- a stone-cold snow leopard.Gabriella had gone and gotten the Contract for the Shattershield; Astrid was too paranoid to leave the Sanctuary- or to let Elisif leave the Sanctuary, which had been the original plan. Gabriella had been one of the only people completely indifferent to the tension that was occurring in the Sanctuary. She had become the go between between Astrid and Elisif. Elisif’s first goal was to find the local gossips- which was why she was going to start at the New Gnisis Corner Club before she visited the Candlehearth Inn. She was down the road, humming the Night Mother’s melody when she came upon a Nord and a Dunmer arguing in the street. There seemed to be some disagreement about military service and citizenship, which made Elisif raise an eyebrow. It seemed Ulfric was implementing a draft. It was a bold move. He had to be sure he could control the local populace when they complained about their sons and daughters of fighting age being pulled from their homes. General Tullius had favored a draft, but Falk had talked him down. Elisif had seen sense in the draft then, but she also thought the Imperial Army would pay for their goods. It was an unfortunate oversight. If she had known the true scope of the war, Elisif was sure she would have tried to kill General Tullius the day she was arrested. It was only when the Nord, clearly drunk, got into the woman’s face- raising a fist, that Elisif stepped in. Tyre had taught her to throw a punch. Elisif knew to go for the throat. As the man choked, she turned to the Dunmer. “Thank you, but I was handling that.” Elisif almost took a step back, she had expected praise. She mentally chided herself, this was Skyrim- if she had done that for a Nord woman, she would have been put on her ass. Acting as a hero didn’t suit her. “My apologies,” Elisif said, then let the silence hang in the air as they watched the man stumble around, trying to gulp for air. One of his friends had called for a guard. Elisif was not particularly worried. Until she learned the man was a Stone Fist. She was prepared to run when the mer, who introduced herself as Suvaris, caught her arm. “He’s gotten away with his abuse when it was us; maybe a Nord stepping in might make the idiot who comes to arrest us think twice. Elisif winced, not wanting to spend time in the dungeon, but she needed gossip. While Stone-Fist and his friends started hurling abuse at her, she asked for the local news. She got quite a bit. The most pertinent was that a serial killer was wandering around the Stone Quarter, murdering anyone with tits. They had killed several guards and a few well-known members- including the late Shattershield daughter. The area was ripe for a copycat murder. Elisif could not have come at a better time. A tall Nord came upon the scene as they were talking. He had a very stern visage and piercing blue eyes. Elisif would have been attracted to him before Torygg and intimidated by him after her marriage. She wouldn’t think of him now, except the Night Mother hissed in her head. Non-believer There was some warning in that, but Elisif didn’t know what it could be. “Hail, I am Captain Yrsarald Thrice-Pierced.” He said, his voice moderate. “I am confused about why I am being brought into a fistfight in the street.” He looked at the gawky Altmer standing next to him. They looked scared. “We were supposed to arrest anyone who threw fists at Stone-Fist’s brother,” The Guard shifted from foot to foot. Elisif was willing to bet they could not be more than fourteen in their growth pattern. “But sir- she’s a Nord!” “So she is.” The man was very serious. “Why didn’t you arrest her?” There was an awkward silence as Stone-Fist let a grin creep onto his purple face. An Altmer arresting a Nord in the middle of Windhelm was social, maybe even literal suicide. “Why am I being arrested in any case?” Elisif put in her hatred of Stormcloaks overcome by the awkwardness of the situation. “The man was being abusive; I corrected him. Why would the guard need to respond in a private fight?” Thrice-Pierced gave a deep sigh and gave Elisif a long-suffering look. “He’s technically a recruiter. Attacking him was an act of war.” Elisif’s eyebrow rose. “Wouldn’t that call for my death?” Thrice-Pierced glanced down. “I’m willing to lower the sentence, in light of the evidence of you being provoked.” “He assaulted an ordinary citizen of Windhelm with his speech.” “She’s not a citizen,” Stone-Fist said. “I’m not a citizen,” Suvaris said. “But that is worse!” Elisif said. “That implies that you are a guest in Windhelm.” Thrice-Pierced let out a long laugh. “Ah, thank you. I had forgotten about that. Here, Cali, hand me the rope. I’ll arrest him. Ma’am, you are free to go.” Stone-Fist looked shocked by this turn of events. “The dark elves are guests of Windhelm by order of the Jarls of Windhelm. You dishonored your Jarl.” Thrice-Pierced looked like he had received a marvelous gift. “I’ll have to hold you until Jarl Ulfric returns and decides what to do with you.” Thrice Pierced turned to look at Elisif, pausing a moment. His eyes ran over her face, and his eyes squinted. “Thank you for your help. What do I call you?” It looked like the man was thinking hard on something. “Durhona Kohgaan, just came up from Riften.” “Your parents must have had a sense of humor.” “My mother certainly thinks she does.” “Are you staying in town long?” Thrice-Pierced was gentle with his prisoner as he kept his eyes on Elisif. “Just a day or two.” “I’ll need your statement.” Thrice Pierced seemed disquieted by something. “Would you be willing to come to the Palace?” Don’t go with him. “I am lacking sleep. I’ll be staying in the Candlehearth Inn tonight if I can come by tomorrow morning.” It was a perfectly reasonable statement if not for the fact Elisif planned to be gone long before morning. Leave! Leave Quickly! Elisif ignored her mother.<<>><<>><<>><<>> Elisif spent the Night standing outside the Shattershield Residence, letting the guards pass within reaching distance of her. The smell of moss was strong, even though her mask. She had taken several potions that kept her body heat high as darkness fell over the street. Three people entered the residence, and then Elisif heard the turn of a lock. She waited for four more hours, reading the Lusty Argonian Maid in her head, trying to see if she could remember every word. Eventually, once the moons sank back down, Elisif took her lockpicks and entered the house. The killer in Windhelm had mutilated the bodies of his victims, so Elisif had an ebony dagger clutched in one hand. She walked into the house, looking about at the furs and the food laid out on the table. Elisif, when she lived at the Blue Palace, would have thought nothing of the wealth on the table- nothing of the furs on Stone Walls. Elisif, now, was angry. These people had not suffered for a theft that never even took place. Instead, they threw a girl they treated as a daughter on the streets. The injustice of it took Elisif’s breath suddenly. She stalked around the lower floor, she was sure she would not be heard. She found the girl in a nook to the side. The client had given Gabriella poison, but it was a poison that would do very little, and Elisif needed this murder to look like all the others. Elisif grinned. She pulled down her mask and took some ash from the fireplace to rub on her face. Then she stalked over to the girl, covering the girl’s mouth with a hand. As the girl woke, she didn’t make a sound, her breathing quick. “The Dark Brotherhood comes because of your-” Elisif was hit on the back of the head with a skillet before she could finish. Her cowl protected her from the hit, but it still stunned her. The woman behind her, whom Elisif assumed was the mother, held up the pan to swing again. Elisif lurched forward and swung her knife in the mother’s direction. The woman yelped and backed up. Elisif turned and stabbed the girl in the throat. And then the mother screamed. Elisif was quick to try and dispatch her as well, but she was soon met with a man she knew. The Shattershield patriarch was drunk and angry. Despite all of it, he squinted at her- “Jarl Elisif?” Elisif killed him quickly, but it was too late; she could hear the guard at the door she hadn’t locked behind her. She pulled up her cowl and raced upstairs, desperate to find a window to escape. Elisif found a small trap door that lead to the roof. She dropped down and ran about the city. She had been up so long that her eyes were burning, and her legs ached. One result of the serial killer she did not expect- there were guards on the wall that did not allow her to slip up and over. The gate to the docks was shut. There didn’t seem to be a place to turn. They might be expecting a Dark Brotherhood assassin if any of the guards got a look at her armor. She needed a place to hide. She needed a place where they- Elisif sprinted towards the Arentino residence. She crouched and rolled at random- letting people believe she had ducked out of sight. She didn’t think anyone had seen her yet. The Arentino residence wasn’t far, but the door to the house had been broken down. It didn’t matter. Up the stairs, she turned towards the small alcove over the door and leapt over it. The dress she had been wearing had been rolled up under her belt. She untied it and quickly put on the dress, pulling off the armor as the dress covered her. It would be cold, but it would be better than being caught by the guards in the clothes of an assassin. Elisif pried a piece of wood up and stuffed the armor beneath the floorboard. She lay on top of it. She was cold, hungry, and tired, but she was safe. Elisif fell asleep to unremarkable dreams.<<>><<>><<>><<>> Elisif woke to a hand on her shoulder. Looking up, she found the eyes of Thrice-Pierced on her. She quickly stabbed up with her knife, only to find her wrist captured and her hold on the knife broke. She swung her legs around, putting her weight on her untouched left arm. Her legs hit him in the hip, but his balance was good. He kept his hold as well as his balance. “Jarl Elisif.” Elisif fought harder. Finally breaking his balance with a shoulder to his stomach, she pushed them both over the alcove- causing her to hit her head on the stairs. Elisif couldn’t see straight. She felt herself being moved, her arms thrown over two shoulders. She saw people everywhere, whispering to each other. Her boots dragged on the ground, making her wish to rear up, but every movement made her head hurt, and nausea threatened her. She was in an enemy camp, and she was sure she was supposed to be doing more than what she was- she should be fighting for her life. “Captain!” The young Altmer from the day before called out, causing Elisif to turn her head and wretch. She pulled on her captive arm. “We need to put the bindings on her. She’s not cooperating.” Thrice-Pierced appeared before Elisif, though he didn’t seem to stay in focus. “Jarl, your hurt.” Thrice- Pierced grabbed her shoulders roughly. “We have a healer in the Palace, we aren’t going to harm you.” Elisif shook her head, pulling away. She was in enemy territory. “We aren’t your enemy, Jarl. We’ve been trying to find you.” Thrice- Pierced looked frustrated. Elisif kicked out at where his knee seemed to be. She got his groin. Thrice-Pierced howled in outrage before he scooped her up and threw her over his shoulder. At that point, nausea and headache made Elisif pass out- but not before she vomited over Thrice-Pierced’s armour.<<>><<>><<>><<>> Elisif woke lying on a bench, her feet propped up. She was still in a dress. Thrice-Pierced looked just as rough from where her head was lying in his lap. Elisif leaned over and bit him, trying to get away. She fell off the bench and made it five steps before Thrice-Pierced, caught her by the hair, and took out her knees. Thrice-Pierced threw his body weight down on her. “By Talos, woman. Stay down!” “No,” Elisif replied. She threw her head back and hit him in the forehead. He didn’t budge, just pressed down on her shoulders. “You have my word as a Nord! We aren’t going to hurt you!” Elisif threw an arm back, but that was caught, and she was put in a rough hold. “Yield, Jarl.” Elisif stopped moving, but she didn’t say anything. Thrice-Pierced took a couple of deep breaths. “You certainly learned a few things out in the wild. The Gentle doesn’t suit you anymore.” “Neither does the Fair. Why are you keeping me hostage?” Elisif said. “Everyone in Skyrim has been looking for you for almost two years. We all thought you were dead. Not Ulfric, though. He thought you were still alive. He said you had more gumption than sense. He could have told me you were a hard-headed fool.” “Why did you want to find me? Solitude is no longer in my hands.” “They won’t pick another Jarl.” Thrice- Pierced said. “Western Skyrim is in chaos. You’ve become a martyr. You are also the only one who can testify to what the Empire did to make you leave.” Elisif snorted. “Tyre Dragonborn can testify.” “A known Stormcloak sympathizer who has been exiled from Solitude?” “Get off of me,” Elisif said. The Night Mother’s voice was silent. She couldn’t get out of the city currently, anyway. Thrice-Pierced got up off of her quickly. She stood and pulled the top of her dress back over her breasts. She pulled the skirt back down around her ankles as well. She stood like Elisif the Fair used to stand. She thought about the scars on her face- but then she dismissed them. She folded her hands in front of her. She gave her most regal glare. Thrice-Pierced gave a large swallow, and she watched his pupils widen. No, thank you. “Why am I here? You know I will not join the Stormcloaks.” Elisif tilted her chin. “The business with your husband was regrettable.” Thrice Pierced said slowly. “However, the concerns of the Empire completely enforcing marshal law are becoming stronger by the day. We cannot behave as the Empire has, running roughshod over the people. We need treat- and more importantly, we need someone to treat with.” “Is Falk Firebeard not able to ‘treat’ with you?” Thrice-Pierced spat on the ground at Falk’s name. “His hold on the West grows ever weaker as his inability to rule the people grow. They refuse to vote for a new Jarl, refuse to let him call for a moot. Your people are rebelling.” Elisif wasn’t sure if she liked the idea. Her people were not soldiers, nor were they disciplined. Peasant revolts ended with dead peasants and rich soldiers, and many fatherless bastards. “We need decisive leadership,” Thrice-Pierced claimed. “And you are the best one to fill that role.” Elisif raised an eyebrow. She didn’t even need to look to know it was perfectly arched. “We have sent word to Ulfric,” Thrice-Pierced said, pleading. “He will be here in five days. Be a guest of the Palace of Kings!” “No,” Elisif said and walked away.<<>><<>><<>><<>> It was not so easy as leaving, of course. The gates and the walls were filled with guards on high alert. They stopped Elisif at every turn. Thrice-Pierced also assigned two guards to watch her- a young Khajiit and a venerable Nord.The Khajiit was clumsy, often stumbling over their own feet. Their tail wasn’t long and delicate like full-grown cats Elisif had seen, but rather it was stout and blunted into a triangle like a new kitten just learning to walk. Their name was Sarta Singer, they had taken a Nordic Name as they were in service to eventually gain citizenship of Skyrim. Their parents had been lost to the Dominion, and they had originally been from Morthal. Elisif enjoyed speaking to them about Morthal- as she had many fond memories of the place.The Nord was nearing seventy, and she frightened Elisif in a way few women could. Elisif had always found safety in the arms of older and stronger women- this one offered no comfort. Her name was Flora. She was originally from Old Horldan, and had settled there after the Markarth incident, raising several children, both by blood and adoption. She had lost most of her family to the secession of the Reach- she lost her last child to a war criminal who was killing off soldiers- he had been an orphan, escaped from Hammerfell.He had taken Sarta as an apprentice, but when he died, his mother took them in as a guard. Sarta asked a question per second, but they were most interested in knowing what had happened to the Bard’s college- and what it was like. Flora’s son had never been due to the prohibitions of non-citizen traveling and the high cost of living after all the fees were paid for entering the city.“Your adoption would have made him a citizen,” Elisif said, surprised. She had grown used to the guards as she searched the city walls. It was day one of trying to get out of Windhelm. Elisif didn’t want friends, but she found friendly guards easier to deal with and much more relaxed than angry guards. She was mostly confident she could get away from them, but getting over the walls and out of the city in a way she didn’t get chased would be a problem.Flora grunted. “No one believes a Redguard is a citizen of Skyrim. Skyrim is for the Nords, after all. That’s why the citizenship plan is so important. You have every background a possible citizen; it becomes less likely the person at the gate is lying.”Elisif hummed to herself. It made sense, she supposed. She thought Ulfric was probably trying to replenish his ranks over a three-year war rather than stop the prejudice Eastern Skyrim was known for. Sarta was most likely a child soldier, but she admired it in the way you admired a particularly deadly ice-wraith who was able to dodge arrows or the way she admired Falk’s ability to fuck with her even after she left Solitude. The man could have taken her throne if he had been smart about it, surely.Elisif did not take the coin pouch Thrice-Pierced offered her, so Flora took it. She started complaining about her old bones and needing a nap around when Sarta’s stomach started grumbling. Elisif let them direct her toward the markets. It was on the way back when Elisif saw the dead body.“What’s this then, Dea?” Flora asked. Sarta was standing in the back, trying not to throw up, which Elisif had sympathy with. There was a naked body lying over a coffin. The body was gutted, and there were marks at the elbows and knees where the skin had turned inside out. The woman’s face was untouched.“Another killing.” The guard’s eyes flickered over to Elisif. Elisif tilted her head and looked at the guard, there was something off about them.
Ah, this one is in the wrong sphere.
I’m glad you are talking to me again.
I told you to run, and you ignored me. I don’t know how you expect to come out of this situation with your identity intact.
It’ll work out. If all else fails, Cicero will come get me.
Very well, smile at the guard, my Listener.
Elisif smiled, and she felt a cool wave rub at her shoulders. The guard in front of her stepped backward, tripping over their feet.“Stand up!” Flora shouted at them. “What happened?”“The killer,” Dea looked at Elisif again, “Struck again last night.”“The city is on lockdown! The murderer should be scrambling for a hiding spot, not continuing to kill.”
Gotcha.
“We need to get you inside, Jarl.”“What has been done about the murders?” Elisif asked.“Well, we are stretched thin-”“We don’t have enough manpower to lock down the city and-”Sarta summed up the situation better, “There is nothing to investigate.”Elisif sighed and moved around the guards. She started questioning witnesses. The beggar didn’t know much, and neither did the priest, who noticed the intact coin purse, and didn’t seem that eager to touch the body.Elisif could relate to it, the body was covered in fluids that come with death. The smell was awful- and steam seemed to still be coming off the body.Which was strange.She pulled on some gloves, fur lined but dispensable. She needed to talk to Festus and Gabriella about examining bodies and necromancy. It would be nice to know if she could ask the corpse who killed it.The marks on the body were strange- they weren’t meant to kill the girl. Though Elisif supposed, they could have been bad at killing.Elisif took ahold of one wrist and moved it over. She could sense the witnesses and guards watching her. She felt slightly nervous.The cuts inside the elbow and behind the knees disturbed her. Nazir, when explaining what to do to keep a captive from getting away, had pointed out that was where you could disable limbs, but they didn’t generally kill. It was also where the skin was peeled back. The slices seemed to be done well, but again not too deep.There were no bruises. There was no sign that the body had been tortured. There was some other motive besides murder and sadism. Elisif laid the arm down. She also leaned down and closed the girl Susannah’s eyes.Elisif was an experienced killer now. She thought she had grown numb to it.She wasn’t so sure now.She looked around the area. There were blood splatters-Elisif looked at her guards.“Is anyone going to take care of this?”<<>><<>><<>><<>> “It was how we found you after you gave us the slip the other day.” Thrice-Pierced said. “We were looking for the killer, who just moved on to killing entire families, not just single young women. Elisif kept her face blank. “Who was killed?” “The Shattershield family was murdered. Which moves this up from random killings into the realm of sabotage.” Elisif nodded. The Shattershield family was the East Empire Company’s leading competition in Skyrim- even though they were not much of a competition. “What are you going to do about it?” Elisif asked. “Blood splatters were leading to Hjerim, though none of your guards seemed to be willing to follow the trail.” Thrice-Pierced closed his eyes and took a deep inward sigh. “There was a trail?” Elisif nodded. “The killer was very, um, focused on the body- so I don’t think they were a professional assassin.” That was her, and she was sure the Dark Brotherhood would have investigated a new assassin in the area. Thrice-Pierced looked at Elisif with a gleam in his eye. Elisif wasn’t sure what it meant. “You must be bored, walking around Windhelm with nothing to do.” Thrice- Pierced looked over to the steward. He looked just as confused as Elisif felt. “I would prefer not to be in Windhelm at all.” Elisif’s voice was slow. “Well, until Ulfric is returned, the city is on lockdown- due to the killer, you understand.” Elisif smiled. Thrice-Pierced smiled back, which wasn’t the result Elisif wanted. “If you would want to lead the investigation, the city of Windhelm could use fresh eyes.” Elisif felt her jaw drop. She had never really had someone want her to be in charge of anything. “I am an enemy-” “Jarl Elisif, have you been killing multiple young women over the past year?” “This has been going on a year?” Elisif almost whimpered. “I’ll take that as a no.” Thrice-Pierced grinned. “I’ll tell the guards to help you out. We need to get the soldiers out of the cold, we don’t have enough troops to keep going like this.” The steward started nodding eagerly. Elisif groaned. These were the people in charge of Windhelm- and Ulfric wanted to be in charge of Skyrim. But she needed to be out before Ulfric came back, and this was her best chance. Due to Elisif’s own incompetence- she was now surrounded by three guards. She nearly had a fit when she saw Free-Winter directing people to clean up the blood trail. “Why would you do this?” Elisif asked, feeling like Gabriella had inhabited her body, the quiet disdain familiar. “It is in the middle of the neighborhood. People don’t need to be seeing blood in this district.” Elisif was going to cry. “Why don’t you leave the blood until we find out where it has gone.” Elisif patted the man on the shoulder, trying not to imagine strangling him as she had with the werewolf. She wanted to know if there was any way to test the blood, but she was slightly worried that would implicate her if they tested any blood she left in the Shattershield home. Festus and Babette had several long conversations about the differences in each type of blood. Some people could donate blood to others, some could kill others by putting blood in the system. It was very confusing. Nords could donate to Bretons, but Nords could only get blood from Imperials and Orcs. Orcs could get blood from Altmer, but not from Nords. Khajiit were universal donors and receivers. Elisif had vague memories of hearing about this during one of her naps. Nazir had been stroking her hair and working in his ledger. Arnbjorn ad even gotten into the argument about whether blood science made a difference in blood trails. Free-Winter nodded and called off the cleaners- paying them despite the work not being finished. Elisif sighed, following the trail to a large house. “Ah, this is Frija’s old home,” Free-Winter said. “The Shattershield?” Elisif asked, concerned. “Did she not live in the family home?” “No, her and her mother didn’t get along. They could only pleasant under a time limit.” Elisif wondered how much better her life would have been if she and Torygg were able to separate- or if Cicero and Elisif could live in a chapel outside the Sanctuary. There was something to be said about having your own space. Elisif walked around the house. There were no footprints, there was only blood on the doorstep. Elisif tried to open the door but found it firmly locked. She sighed. “Is there anyone with a key?” Elisif asked. Her three guards were looking over her shoulder, and Free-Winter shook his head. “They still haven’t found the Shattershield heir. We would then have to wait for the heir to allow us a key.” Free-Winter said. “We are allowed to enter but not to demand actions or services of the bereaved. Elisif huffed. She hesitated a moment. “I’ve had to get myself out of some sticky situations in the past.” “We don’t judge you; we have all been victims of the Empire’s mechanisms,” Dea said. Elisif rolled her eyes, but she pulled lockpicks out of her hair. She had more hidden in her boots and breast binding, so it wasn’t giving away too many secrets. She started looking at the lock. It was expensive- as only a rich family leaving their daughter alone could provide. She inserted the lockpick and tried to relax her shoulders enough to work. The four pairs of eyes behind her- as well as the citizens gathering in the street, seemed to be staring. She had handmade lockpicks, made to fit her hands, and that wouldn’t break as easily as Elisif’s old ones did. She still broke four before she opened the door. Elisif looked behind her to see a crowd. “If you are not in the guard,” Elisif said firmly, “You need to go about your business.” There was a general hum of disgruntlement, but Elisif let the guards in the house before firmly shutting the door in Free-Winter’s face. She had a moment of panic, worrying she had angered him. She heard a huff of laughter behind the door, but the tension didn’t leave her shoulders. She followed the blood splatter to a chest against the wall. “How did no one notice someone this bloody walking down the streets?” Elisif asked. “Or with, I expect, bloody body parts.” “It was probably dark.” “I’m not allowed to go after people bigger than me till my claws grow.” “Everyone is bloody in this town; how was I supposed to know?” Elisif ignored Dea and went over to open the chest- thankfully unlocked. The murderer must have been depending on the door locks. In the chest- which was also covered in blood- was a stack of paper and a journal. It was disturbing. Elisif looked about the house some more. It was a nice house- it wasn’t a palace- but it fit Windhelm. There was a remarkable lack of furniture- except for two very nice wardrobes. One had some clothing- but the other was nailed to the wall. Elisif had a bad feeling in her bones. There is nothing here whose power supersedes mine.
Yes, well, you kill your children.
Elisif opened the wardrobe and pressed against the back panel- her palms resting and pressing on the rough wood. The panel gave way- And the Night Mother was correct. The room wasn’t that scary. The journal was disturbing- but the list of body parts seemed about right. Flora gagged, and Sarta gave a low yowl. Elisif didn’t see what the problem was. It was mostly bones and a little blood. There was no rotting meat. She didn’t notice anything particularly wrong with the setup. She wished she could consult Gabrielle, but it seemed Necromantic in nature- the system seemed to be a little more intense than a simple raise-dead spell. Elisif didn’t take anything but the journal, closing the door behind her. There was another stack of paper- and under the paper was an amulet. Necromancy. Huh. “Dea, can you get some guards to stand by the door and guard it?” Dea did as she asked, causing Flora and Sarta to gape at her. Elisif made her way to the door, stepping into the cold air. She was still in her barmaid dress. It was stained from her head wound. “When the guard gets here, can you show me where to buy a dress.” Flora looked to the side, seemingly ashamed. “We don’t have a clothier anymore- we-” “I don’t need new clothes- I need a clean dress, or trousers, preferably. I have coin. Do you know of any second-hand?” Sarta piped up at that. “They are trying to sell Susannah’s things at the Candlehearth Inn.” Sarta’s tail twitched back and forth. They seemed eager to be helpful. “I don’t think the Jarl needs to be wearing a barmaid’s outfit.” “Guardsman, what do you think I am wearing now?” Elisif giggled. She saw Flora give a second look at her dress, and she stuttered. “Oh, well, I-” Elisif felt her lips curl into a smile she hadn’t had the opportunity to wear for a while. It was kind. “You are just,” Flora sighed. “You are very regal.” “Clothing,” Elisif took Flora’s arm, dragging her to the inn as she saw more guards coming. “Can be very freeing, but it takes the person to make an outfit- not the other way around.” Elisif paused and directed the guards to the house before they made their way to the inn. Sussanah was about her size- though Elisif hadn’t thought so when she had seen the body. Her clothing was “freshly washed” and only cost a few coins. Elisif haggled before she pulled a few coins out of a pocket sewn into her boot. She then borrowed a room to dress in, Flora standing in the room with her. Elisif was suprised to find it made her uncomfortable, despite spending years being naked in front of various servants. “I’ve seen it all before, lass,” Flora said kindly. “And it has less to do with you running and the fact women your age have been ending up murdered.” The guard had slowly been warming up to Elisif, and Elisif had been warming up to her. Elisif smiled again. It felt strange on her face. She had been smiling, she knew, but this felt oddly genuine. When she exited the room, she ran into an older woman demanding Sarta let her speak to Elisif. “What seems to be the problem?” Elisif asked, stepping in front of the young guard. She listened as the woman explained how she had been looking for the killer and how she wanted to help with the investigation. “Are these yours?” Elisif asked, showing the woman the flyers. “Yes, those are mine.” Elisif had a bit of a hunch. “And do you recognize this?” She held up the amulet. The woman paused. “I think you should ask Calixto about that; it seems to be more up his alley- but no, I’ve never seen that before.” Well, that was a lie. “Thank you.” Elisif walked around the woman. She needed to talk to the steward.<<>><<>><<>><<>> Elisif finally went to sleep when Sarta’s tail started dragging on the floor. Her training with the Dark Brotherhood kept her at minimal sleep for so long she was not surprised when she woke up five hours after lying down on the bed. She felt well rested- and she didn’t want to waste time. Many assassination jobs relied on her waiting- this one did not. The guard at her door wasn’t sure if she was allowed to be about- and her captain was scheduled to supervise the prisons right now. Elisif volunteered to go with him to his captain- claiming to need to stretch her legs. He seemed hesitant, but he did it anyway. The guard quarters were right next to the jail, and Elisif noticed Sarta was curled up in Flora’s bunk, shivering. Elisif made a note to see if she could find a good fur the next day. While the guard asked if Elisif could walk about the palace, and he got spectacularly dressed down, Elisif looked in each of the cells. Most were empty, but there was a small lump-” “It’s you!” The lump unfurled to rush to the bars. The face of the Aretino boy stared at her. Elisif was at a loss for a moment before she remembered that this was a child in a jail cell. “Why is there a child in a cell?” “Jarl Elisif, this is one of the murderers of Grelold the Kind.” The captain looked uncomfortable. “Why was he not sent to the orphanage?” Elisif asked. She stood straight, kept her eyes focused, and her voice calm. Elisif was not particularly fond of children. She didn’t know what to do with them- she never wanted to raise her own, though she thought she would have to for a good many years. But having a child in a jail cell before sixteen was a miscarriage of justice. “There is no orphanage.” The captain snapped. Elisif lifted her chin, waiting until she got an apology. “He’s a prisoner of war right now, you see.” The captain said. “We can’t give the Riften government a Dark Brotherhood assassin, the boy won’t give us any description.” Elisif looked back at the boy. “Smart.” The boy grinned at her. She felt uncomfortable. “So we are going to trade the kid to see if we can get the dogs in Riften to open up trade in the North again.” Elisif was shaking with frustration. A Jarl should not be using children to bargain. Elisif had many things about Ulfric’s city Elisif wanted to address- the roads, the guard, the lack of merchants- and now there was a child in a jail cell. She had to leave before he arrived, though. The child would have to die because the child would eventually break- My Listener is allowed to bring home recruits- and apprentices. The Night Mother whispered in her ear as if she wasn’t hanging by a thread in the Sanctuary. Astrid would murder the boy when Elisif brought him in, or worse- Astrid would make her kill him after she had dragged him halfway across Skyrim. She was going to have to kill him- his last days in a jail cell. She still had the poison from the Shattershield job. She would have to stop on the way out. She turned and looked at the boy and sighed. She reached through the bars to pull the boy towards the bars. She placed a kiss on his forehead. “You won’t be here much longer,” Elisif whispered. Void be kind to him.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Elisif, doubting her own knowledge of magic, had asked for the opinions of multiple mages around Windhelm., Elisif found it was important for there to be more than one source of information when it came to unfamiliar matters.The steward and Thrice-Pierced found two mages outside of Wuulfreth the Unliving. One was a young-looking Bosmer, their forehead had a sizable dent in one side and their mouth seemed frozen on the other. The other was an ancient-looking Nord. He carried two short swords on his hip- and there was a wedding ring around one of his fingers. The Bosmer was a specialist in Restoration, the Nord preferred Conjuration. Wuulfreth himself was a master of Destruction. Elisif had enough basic knowledge to follow a discussion with a mage, but something told her she needed to have a check and a balance between them. “What can you tell me about this amulet.” The older Nord took a moment, his eyes squinting. The Bosmer let his hands glow for a moment, and the Nord nodded and smiled. The amulet turned and winked at her from its place on the table. It felt friendly. “It’s a Necromancer’s amulet. I would ask Calixto about it- I think he was around when it was sold. One of my colleagues died- his grandchildren were auctioning off his stuff. It’s rare enough, but not much use in most schools.” The Nord tapped his chin as he thought. The Bosmer nodded before holding up his hands in a question. Elisif held up her own hands, making the affirmative gesture. ‘Necromancy is a combination of Restoration and Conjuration. If done incorrectly, the spells can draw the spellcaster’s life source instead of their mana.’ Wuulfreth and the Nord nodded. ‘For more intricate spells, a great deal of precision is needed to avoid that fate. Even some Dunmer necromancers- who are trained as part of the religion- can cast and accidentally put themselves into the wrong body, or pull an essence from a soul gem into their mind, instead of using it to fuel a spell.’ Wuulfreth nodded. “That amulet is supposed to prevent any of that from happening. It keeps the body and soul in a state of stasis while allowing the magika to be spent and restored with no issue.” ‘It is most likely used for experimentation.’ The old Nord nodded. Thrice-Pierced had his mouth open as Elisif thanked them for their time and offered to pay them. The Nords refused, but the Bosmer’s lip twisted as he refused. Elisif slipped some money into his pocket as he left. “That was more information- and clearer- than I was expecting.” Thrice-Pierced rubbed his beard. “Magic, I have been told, usually has a specialization,” Elisif said. “Alone, none of them would have admitted to any knowledge of Necromancy- but together, they couldn’t be shown as ignorant to their colleagues. The different specializations helped, so thank you.” “I didn’t have anything to do with their specializations.” Thrice Pierced shrugged. “The wood elf sees to the workers on the docks and the wounds and illness the rest of us don’t know how to treat. The older Nord was a spell sword in his youth- he trained Ulfric, Galmar and I to know how to work with mages. Why do mages need specializations? I would think a broad general knowledge would be more useful, with how thin they are spread.” Elisif snorted at that, trying to remember she didn’t like this man and that he was going to hand her over to Ulfric in a few days. “You might as well ask why I don’t specialize in smithing and the broadsword.” Thrice-Pierced opened his mouth to roundly correct her on making such a foolish comparison, then he stopped. “I suppose that makes sense. You seem like more of an archer.” Elisif grinned and held up her hand- the callouses clearly shown. Thrice-Pierced nodded. “What is next on your list?” “I am looking for someone with a lot of specialized knowledge.” Elisif said, “What do you know about this Calixto, by the way?” “Hm. He has a small museum in his house; he lets you see some of the things for a few coins. He makes enough money to get by, but Viola provided the house.” “The person who has been handing out the pamphlets.” “She’s a bit of an old busybody; no one pays much attention to her. She was courting Calixto’s sister at one point, I believe. That’s why Calixto was able to buy the house- it was her sisters- she had died soon after Calixto, and his sister arrived.” Elisif took a moment to think. “Alright, here is what I want to do.”<<>><<>><<>><<>> There was a celebration that night in the Palace of Kings. Several young women were out talking and dancing- their families had refused to let them out of their sight when a killer was on the loose. Everyone seemed to know Elisif- but they never called her by name. They wouldn’t call her High Queen, but there were rings of Jarl and The Clever. Her guards seemed to be enjoying the night as well. Sarta was slowly drinking some coffee Elisif had made for them. Their tail went back and forth as they enjoyed the sweet taste. Flora was dancing with the Nord mage who had lent his expertise. Many of the guards who had been pulling double shifts were warming themselves in the hall as the kitchen staff weaved through the room. Ulfric’s empty throne sat above it all. Sarta slipped next to Elisif, buzzing under their skin. Elisif took a moment to understand Sarta was purring. “Don’t tell Flora,” Sarta whispered. “But I think you would make a better king than Ulfric.” Elisif tried to wrap an arm around Sarta, but her sleeve got caught on the clasp of their mail. It had a small nick in it, she remembered it from somewhere. Some other soldiers had the same nick. Suddenly, Elisif had a moment of vertigo. How many Stormcloaks had she killed? How many of them had she gleefully hunted down and shot full of poison? Elisif didn’t know. Whether or not they sided with Ulfric they were still her people- no. Elisif was no longer High Queen. She was part of the Dark Brotherhood. She gagged for a moment. Then she burst into huge, gasping sobs, continuing to gag. No one noticed at first, but Thrice Pierced quickly found her. Elisif instinctively flinched from the hand that she thought would drag her away- about to punish her. Elisif- the woman with the kind heart, had been far too close to the surface to expect anything but a beating. Thrice-Pierced stopped and backed away. “Are you sick?” Sarta asked, worried. Elisif nodded. She couldn’t breathe through her nose anymore; there was only choked hacking. “Here, wrap your arm around me. You can lay in the guard room for a little bit.” Right next to the Arentino boy. Sithis, sithis no. She didn’t want to kill anymore; it wasn’t fun. She didn’t.
Be calm, my Listener. Be calm.
SHUT UP
Sarta lead her to the bed just in time for Elisif to faint. She was plagued with dreams of Solitude and Windhelm all night. <<>><<>><<>><<>><<>> Elisif woke to Sarta and Flora wrapped around her. The guardroom was filled with the sound of drunk soldiers. Elisif took the side of her collar and blew her nose in it, allowing her to breathe through her nose. It didn’t wake her bedmates. Elisif felt like she had her head to herself for the first time in years. She decided, standing beside the bed- that she was going to ensure that stayed the state of things. She wasn’t going to meet Ulfric, and she had two more people to care of- three if she counted the Arentino boy. Elisif blankly, without a whisper of sound, made her way to the jail. The boy was shivering in the cell. She opened the door to the cell, but she didn’t remember that later. She knelt down in front of the boy and contemplated how to kill him. She could leave the door open, of course. He would run; he was, what, twelve years? He would walk through an open door. She could take a fur and smother him. Elisif didn’t think of anything as she fetched a fur on another jail cell floor. The boy was dead asleep, soon to be completely dead. If I am going to finish my business before dying, I should at least let the boy die in comfort. Astrid would want the boy dead, but she wouldn’t be violent about it. Babette would make him a cup of juice- like they were going to give her. They had been ready to kill her. This was the right decision. Elisif thought to herself. She could keep him alive long enough to die. She slapped the boy’s cheek gently. His eyes popped open- and so did his mouth. Elisif shook her head. She couldn’t force her face to smile. She picked up the boy, having him wrap his limbs around her, giving her free use of her arms. The heat startled her, as did the burn of her muscles. The sensation seemed to want to drag her away from her choice- the right choice- so she ignored it. <<>><<>><<>><<>> She walked out of the Palace; she walked into the Arentino house. She got dressed. She told the boy to grab his things. She climbed the wall around Windhelm- the boy in her arms. She stood over the long drop and considered falling on her neck, but she had the boy to consider.Elisif made her way down the wall into the snow. It was up to her thighs, the wind howled all around her. She killed wolves. She didn’t have any food, and despite the boy’s grumbling stomach, she didn’t try and feed him. The person she was supposed to kill at the mill lived next to a waterfall. Elisif made the boy drink a potion and hid him behind the waterfall- where there were food barrels and a nice dagger. There was a chest beneath the waterfall- just barely warm enough to avoid being iced over. “Stay.” Elisif wondered what was wrong with her voice. The boy didn’t say anything to her, just sat on the chest, clutching his knife. Elisif walked out from behind the water. She strung her bow; she shot the man. She remained certain she had accomplished the deed, even as the details slipped out of her brain as she left. She went back behind the waterfall. “I have one more person to kill.” Elisif could barely hear her own words. It was forever since she had seen the boy. It had only been a few moments. “Is it me?” The boy asked. “I don’t know if you will die, but this is a different target. This target leads a bandit group. I need to sneak into a dwemer ruin and sneak out again.” “Okay.” The boy whispered. Elisif picked the boy up again. The strain in her muscles felt- but Elisif wasn’t feeling right now. Elisif walked up in the cold mountains. She fed the boy more potions to keep him going when he had to walk as she picked off individual bandits. None of them saw her- they only knew death in the cold. Elisif told herself she should find someplace warm to die. Somewhere where the animals would pick at her bones, where there wouldn’t be a body to find. The boy wrapped his hands around Elisif’s waist, squeezing her tightly. She could almost feel it. She showed him how he was supposed to sneak, then gave him an invisibility potion. “Your hand on my back at all times, alright?” Elisif didn’t whisper. Everyone was dead. The boy nodded. He gripped his new knife tightly. Elisif took the knife from him- which he fought- before showing him how to hold it correctly. The boy was shaking. Elisif lead him through the ruin. She found herself able to open many gates with her lockpicks, and she had the boy sit in corners while she looked around. He didn’t say a word until a Breton with a shield came running up behind her. He yelled, Elisif turned and shot him in the eye. The boy ran to her and wrapped his arms around her again. Neither of them were speaking. Elisif still couldn’t feel anything, but she really wanted to be able to say something. She wanted- No, Elisif didn’t feel anything. The boy stabbed the dead body a few times before Elisif pulled him away. The boy kept randomly grabbing onto Elisif as they snuck through the tall corridors, and she wasn’t sure why. Eventually, they were able to look down from a tall alcove where her targets stood, laughing. Elisif felt like she should be enraged. Elisif fired the shot to kill her target, watched his body fall into the fire, and then watched the fire spread throughout the room as the body caught the dwarven oil on fire. She only had to get the boy back to Astrid, and then she could be done. <<>><<>><<<>><<>><<>><<>> Elisif blindfolded the boy once they got to Falkreath. He obeyed, and did not protest, but his hands clutched her as if letting her go would mean that the world was ending. He startled at the sound of the door’s raspy voice asking the question. He did not say a word as he was led into Elisif’s tomb. Astrid was there to greet her. She didn’t say anything about the child. She didn’t say a word about Elisif- but something in her gaze filled with understanding. She wrapped an arm around Elisif and led her and the boy to the kitchen, where Nazir sat. He was looking at his books. Vezeera was playing dice with Festus in the corner. Cicero was arguing with Babette about something. Elisif couldn’t really hear. “We have a guest?” Nazir asked. The whole room went silent. Elisif felt all eyes bore into the Arentino boy. “Yes, one that will keep his blindfold on for a moment.” Astrid said. “Babette, can you get that tea. I think Elisif has had a shock.” Nazir’s eyes went soft, though his mouth curved down. He walked forward and took Elisif’s hands in his own. She still couldn’t feel. “Your hands are cold.” Nazir said quietly. “Why don’t you come by the fire? Vezeera, can you take our new guest.” “Of course, silencer.” The Argonian went over to the child and crouched down. “What is your name, hatchling?” “Aventus Arentino. Is the person I’m with alright?” The boy was shaking. “She looked like she was dying on the way here- she acts like the people who go to live in the Ratway, but never come back up. Astrid and Nazir had looked at each other at the name. “It happens, sometimes, in our profession,” Vezeera said. “We will try and help bring her out of it.” “She can’t be left alone!” “And she won’t be hatchling. When was the last time you slept?” Vezeera moved the boy away. Babette, on the other hand, came over and took Elisif’s wrist- biting into it. “It tastes like shock.” Babette said. “Somethings not right. Her blood needs to be producing more of something.” Babette licked the wound clean, and handed Elisif some tea. Elisif sat with Nazir by the fire for a long moment before she felt his hands curl up around hers. “Elisif.” Nazir said. “Do you need help? I can’t do anything unless you ask me for help.” Elisif leaned into Nazir’s chest, safe and warm. Nazir was a friend- and he was a friend familiar with death. He would make her end quick. He could throw her body out into the wilderness. It would prove him correct. There had never been a reason to get attached to Elisif. “Just end it,” Elisif whispered. “Please stop the pain.” Nazir took Elisif by the shoulders and pushed her away from him. His eyes searched her face, the whites of his eyes seemed to stand out the way a bear’s did. “No,” Nazir said. “And we are going to have a fun time understanding what pain actually means, Listener.” He wrapped a hand around her throat and squeezed. Elisif nodded, not hearing the words. She fell into darkness.<<>><<>><<>><<>> Elisif woke in the Night Mother’s room, arms wrapped around the coffin and tied together with some sort of sticky silk, as were her thighs, right above her knees. Her feet couldn’t touch the ground, but her weight was distributed in such a way that there was no strain on her limbs. “It’s spider silk.” A voice said from behind her. Elisif turned her head slightly, trying to see Nazir, but she couldn’t quite turn her head. “It has enough strength and firmness to keep you in place.” Nazir’s voice said calmly. “It won’t cut off circulation, so no worries about that. Do you know why you are here, Elisif?” Elisif took a deep breath. “Are you going to kill me?” Elisif’s voice was dead, but there was a kernel of hope in her breast. “No, but it does have something to do with that.” There was a warm hand on her back. “The Dark Brotherhood has been around a while, Elisif. You aren’t the first assassin to have some regrets.” Elisif had nothing to lose; she had to make Nazir kill her. “I was found out! They took me captive and I was found out and I am never going to raise a hand against one of Skyrim’s soldiers again.” Nazir didn’t say anything, Elisif just heard him take a few steps back. Then there was the sound of something falling through the air- then, Shock. It was blinding. Elisif froze, her muscles going tense. “Is that why I should kill you?” Nazir mocked. “You are going to be particular about your contracts?” “I brought the Arentino boy to the Sanctuary,” Elisif said. Another falling sound, then a blinding pain on her shoulder. “He’ll make a fine apprentice for Vezeera. It’s been too long since we’ve had anyone young enough to mold.” “I’ve thought about leaving the Sanctuary and telling the Oculatus.” Elisif’s voice wavered. She was in pain- feeling something other than the numbing void that had pulled her under. It was warring with her desire to die- but Elisif couldn’t be a part of this, anymore. There was another fall of the whip, and this time Elisif jerked as it hit her. She started pulling at her bonds, trying to get loose. She didn’t want to suffer before she died. Her nose was clogged, and she felt tears in her mouth. When did she start crying? “Is there anything else?” Nazir asked. “I must say, this has been one of the most boring sessions I’ve had so far.” Elisif let out a wet snarl. “I yelled at the Night Mother. I told her to shut up.” Nazir gave a small laugh. “Oh, good. That is something worthy of correction. How many people heard you? I’ll give you that many lashes.” “Nobody heard me; we talk inside my head.” Elisif tried to move her legs, kicking the coffin. There was no extra hit. A faint laugh entered Elisif’s head. A hand buried itself in Elisif’s hair, and pulled it back. Nazir’s eyes watched hers. “Are you serious?” Elisif leaned forward, pulling against the hand in her hair, and tried to bite him. Nazir let go of her hair and a snort escaped him. “What else, Listener?” “I am trying to supplant Astrid.” Elisif said, gritting her teeth. She was starting to get angry. “You are not, try again.” Nazir gave her a flick to the forehead. “I will if you let me live.” “Elisif, you go three shades of red whenever Astrid gets within five feet of you. I’ve never heard you say a bad word about anyone in this Sanctuary, outside of training. If you can insult Astrid within the next ten seconds, I’ll give you another smack.” Elisif went quiet. “If that is all the wrongs you think you’ve done, we will move onto the second half of the punishment, well- part of it. But you should know, as Listener, you are allowed to bring people into the Sanctuary. We know you got caught, but you got out- and I think we discussed before we try and make sure to match people to the right job. We want to avoid these situations as often as we can, but who knows? You might find this enjoyable.” Nazir stepped back and Elisif heard the whistle as the whip moved in the air. “You decide when this stops,” Nazir said, his voice clear. “All you have to do is say you want to live- and mean it.” Elisif struggled in her binds. She didn’t want more pain, she didn’t want the numbness to go away. She needed to die and get it over with. It was the only way to keep Skyrim safe. She couldn’t hurt any more of her citizens. A lash landed on her upper back again- a heavy pain that pushed the breath from her. Elisif tried to lean forward and gnaw on the bindings, but they weren’t close enough to reach. Her chest was tight, and she felt like she couldn’t get another breath in. Another lash on the meat of her ass, which she just now noticed, was exposed. Elisif tried to kick out a leg and just ended up scraping her shin against the coffin. The whip hit the upper part of her back, and Elisif couldn’t think; it hurt so badly. She leaned against the coffin and yelled out-. “Stop, stop- please.” “You know how to get out of this, Listener.” Nazir’s reply wasn’t joking anymore. Elisif couldn’t read all the nuances, but there was a note of uncompromising pleasure. Nazir would do this as long as it took, and he would enjoy every second of it. Another lash came down, and Elisif felt her throat scrape together as she screamed. She didn’t know if any sound had come out. There was a short pause and Elisif felt her breathing slow down and her back relax. And then there was another whistle through the air. “Please.” Elisif nearly choked on her own spit and snot. “Please stop.” Nazir didn’t say anything. Another whistle came down; it wrapped around Elisif’s forearm. Elisif pulled desperately, gagging at the pain. Another lash hit. Then another.<<>><<>><<>><<>> Elisif was no stranger to pain, she thought, living in Solitude and then training with weapons, that her habit of sinking into and accepting the pain would carry over to her punishment, but Elisif never sank into the pain. She struggled the whole time. Every moment was another moment that could not get worse- and then unable to stop the next moment. “I want to live, stop- I want to live.” Elisif’s voice didn’t sound loud enough to her own ears, but Nazir must have heard her. “Very good.” Nazir came forward and put pressure on her back, letting the wounds light up again. “I didn’t even have to draw blood. You did such a good job.” He smacked her ass, making her howl again. “This is the last part, and then you get to bed, all right?” Nazir tipped a potion down Elisif’s throat before Elisif could start sobbing again. The potion didn’t taste like anything going down, but it was just a few moments until Elisif let out a gut-wrenching scream as her back lit up- fire licking her spine. Then there was a hand between her legs, rubbing her cunt. There was no penetration, and it was over her normal underthings. It was nothing special, but it felt better than any sex Elisif ever had. She tried to squeeze her legs together, to hump the hand, but she could barely swivel her hips into the pleasure. Pleasure flung itself into Elisif’s mouth; she needed- desperately- to be kissing someone. A thumb passed over her lips, alighting every nerve. The callous caught on the dead skin of her mouth, pulling and tugging at the nerves. Elisif came. The climax was quick to begin and quick to end. She was tossed back into unbearable arousal. It seemed more intense than the actual climax. She wanted to stay in such a state forever. It was the best feeling- it was the feeling when you first understand you could desire someone. It was the way you could buzz when touched by a lover the first time- and the way an experienced lover could pleasure you with a touch. “Eighteen lashes.” Nazir said into Elisif’s ear. She craned her neck so she could feel him speak into her throat. She wanted a mouth on her neck. “You took eighteen lashes, so you get eighteen peaks.” Nazir leaned forward and gave a small lick to Elisif’s neck. She peaked again. “Please,” Elisif groaned out. “Please what, Listener?” Nazir asked, his voice pleased. “Please keep going.” Where Elisif had been unable to let pain pull her back to the world of the living, she had no such defense against pleasure.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Elisif got no peace for the next three months. Every week, Nazir would take Elisif and place her around the Night Mother’s coffin. He slowly increased the number of hits Elisif would take across her back or thighs. Elisif walked with deep bruising and aching cuts following her about her day- but eventually that pain dissolved into apathy, as did the pleasure. Elisif’s armour had disappeared during the same time. During the week, the members of the Sanctuary would press against Elisif’s back or thighs, smacking them or running nails across Elisif’s back. It would pull or sting on the loose linen of her shirts- which would sometimes stain with blood. Every member of the Brotherhood smiled as they did it. They also pressed food into her hands, water to her mouth. Wine disappeared from its place on the shelves.Vezeera took the Arentino boy under his wing, but the two of them were kept separated. Elisif would watch the boy from afar as he was put through the basic paces of fighting. Vezeera was gentle with the boy, but training looked as difficult for him as it was for Elisif. Nazir seemed to be Elisif’s most constant companion through all of it, and intimacy seemed to form with each passing moment. Whenever Elisif’s hand would shake- her mind trying to decide whether to use the knife on the leather she was tanning or on herself, Nazir would take her wrist and lead her back to the task at hand. Each hesitation was noted and added to the tally at the end of the week. Elisif began to crave the relief Nazir’s hands brought. The touch of his hands brought her pleasure- but it was also a sign that the pain was about to fade to pleasure. There were many tasks at hand. Astrid had Elisif restocking every potion, tanning each piece of leather, and sweeping up any missing soul gem pieces. She milked the spider; Festus showed her how to cook. They kept pushing until Elisif collapsed in her bed, exhausted- with a steady hand to her bruises and cuts. Astrid started making Elisif memorize maps of the major hold- knowing the names of every bandit leader and their origin from Winterhold to Falkreath. Gabriella started teaching her how to speak the language of Orismar. Cicero had Elisif memorize the Tomes of the Dark Mother, each written in a hand so faded and hard to read, Elisif struggled against a headache she didn’t know how to feel. The flow of information that entered Elisif’s head seemed to drown out the absence of the Night Mother. Until, one day, Elisif could feel her hands and feet again. She could feel hunger and pain bright behind her eyes when she hit her head on a bedpost. “Ah.” Elisif muttered. She was supposed to be hunting that day, but Elisif wandered back down to the kitchen nook instead. Nazir was sitting at the table. He was reclining, his ledger was in front of him, and he was sipping a cup of tea. He looked content. He wasn’t worried; this was his home. He seemed to understand his purpose in life. Elisif felt a deep desire to avoid talking. It was too late; Nazir recognized her hesitant steps and raised his cup for her to come and join him. “My friend, it is good to see you back in the world of the aware.” “What happened?” Elisif asked. She was perplexed, her head felt stuffed with wool, but she could appreciate her hunger. She started grabbing bits of bread and cheese. “You had a bit of a mental break,” Nazir said. “Not too unusual. From what the Arentino boy tells us, you were certainly set up for one.” Nazir set down his cup, looking Elisif in the eye. “We shouldn’t have pushed you to take such a big job right when things on the homefront were so, mm, precarious.” “I wanted to go,” Elisif said between bites of bread. “Yes, and we shouldn’t have let you. Expect an apology from Astrid as well.” Nazir crossed his arms. “Are you willing to tell me what happened now? Not going to go back into a fugue state again?” Elisif nodded, wondering why she had never wondered why she wasn’t debriefed earlier. She told Nazir the whole sorry story. The botched job with the Shattershields, being identified as the Jarl of Solitude, solving the murders, and stealing the boy. Nazir kept stopping her to clarify different points. He went with the different angles, and asked after the stories she gave. “I am impressed. That was an almost perfect job.” Nazir said. “What? There was a disaster every five minutes. I was seconds away from being discovered, interrogated, and made a war hostage.” “Yeah, the circumstances weren’t perfect. But you handled it very well.” Nazir praised her with a twitch of his lip. “Also, it highlights why you had the mental break. Some people have them when the killing gets to be a bit too much. There is always a body too many.” Nazir paused and tapped his hand on the table. “This quest seemed designed to break you.” Nazir tilted his chin down, his beard resting on his chest. Elisif blinked for a moment. He looked contemplative. “We kill for a living, but the Dread Father comes for all of us in the end. Sometimes it just comes for our life, but sometimes it comes from our mind- like Cicero. I once went on a much greater killing spree than the one you went on with the Stormcloaks.” Nazir gave a warm smile, licking his lips. “I was lonely merchant boy whose parents were killed by a charlatan. I fell into a bad crowd and learned the art to killing well and to killing many. I went after every performer I could get my hands on. I still don’t like them. I started going after people who looked like the charlatan and, eventually people who looked like the people I killed. I wouldn’t stop- I couldn’t stop.” Nazir leaned forward and wrapped his hands around Elisif’s wrists, turning them into the light. He brought one of her hands up and leaned his cheek against it. Elisif instinctively rubbed her thumb against his cheekbone. “I picked someone too much of a challenge for me, as we all do in time. Their hammer smashed my ribs, throwing me into a pile of bodies. When I say I was drowning in blood, I mean I couldn’t breathe because the broken ribs were making me suck in the blood of my victims- I couldn’t control my breathing or my pain.” Nazir turned his head and pressed his lips to the callus on the base of her thumb. “I crawled my way out of there. I didn’t stop. I just started torturing people until death- something I felt more satisfying than fighting. Nords could call it cowardly, but it was another way to make myself feel safe. I didn’t stop until someone got free and tortured me. That was when I fled, assuming there was nothing I could do to be safe.” Nazir looked up at Elisif. “The truth is, what we do, we will always face. We may get lucky and not face everything, but I pick up the knife knowing a knife will one day pierce me. I pick up a whip, knowing I will face its sting.” The intimacy was a payment for the intimacy he expected from Elisif. “I mismanaged my city, and other people were taking care of my problems- even if Falk wouldn’t let me, I had a duty to try and make allies, try and make a way on my own,” Elisif said softly. “Ulfric had a duty to his city, and he failed it; he is failing it.” Elisif continued, using her hand to smooth out Nazir’s beard. “The people I killed mercilessly were once my citizens to take care of, my people to protect. I accused Ulfric of treason, but I had committed treason repeatedly by not upholding the law- even before I left my seat. I killed men for treason, who followed the ways of their father and forefathers.” Nazir kept his eyes on her, and Elisif took that as an encouragement to talk. “Cicero and Astrid are arguing over whether I should lead the Dark Brotherhood,” Elisif said. “And Cicero doesn’t seem to understand why the title of the Listener doesn’t give me the right to run the Dark Brotherhood. But I think it does give me the right- but I shouldn’t take that right.” Nazir hummed. He dropped one of Elisif’s wrists to reach forward and tangled his fingers in the hair at the base of Elisif’s neck. Elisif delighted at the pull, drawn to the warmth of his palm. “Having the right to do something doesn’t mean you should do something,” Elisif said, voice clear. “Being in Windhelm showed me how far Solitude had fallen- where the right to do something meant you were automatically going to do it. Falk had the ability, so he thought he had the right. Cicero thinks the Listener’s ability gives me the right, but it doesn’t. I don’t have the experience, I don’t have the know-how- and more importantly, I am loyal to Astrid. She has proven herself a better leader than any in Skyrim. Her people are protected, and her guild thrives.” “You’ve been at the point where you have just been going with the flow of what has happened to you, I think,” Nazir said. “You were a queen because you loved a prince; you were an assassin because you could go nowhere else. I am surprised you decided to come back to us when you discovered you could competently rule- or at least be competent.” “I took three jobs, I finished three jobs,” Elisif said. “Besides, having a woman in your head talking to you diminishes how much you are willing to trust your sanity. Might as well do what I think I am supposed to.”<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>> After Nazir ended the punishment sessions, Elisif was encouraged to go on more difficult jobs. Elisif didn’t wait too long to take her next job- a vampire was running a mill that needed to be killed. Astrid didn’t know who had done the Black Sacrament, only that it was done in Markarth’s warrens. There was a note for the kill, and payment to be delivered to a third location. The contract involved a known vampire who had settled long before Skyrim faced its more recent scourge. Vampires, Babette explained, were mostly immune to poison. Most of them could cast magic, but they could not maintain their stamina during the day, nor their health. The best way to take one down was an arrow from far away (during the night) or to go at them with a two-handed weapon. The preferable weapon being a battle-axe. Festus needed Arnbjorn to help him take out a group of orc spellcasters in the mountains, so Elisif was the second-best choice, as Cicero was still refusing to leave the Night Mother. Still, Arnbjorn felt terrible about leaving his wife’s tidbit to her own devices. He forged Elisif some arrowheads that he had her practice with. The arrows were long and had odd curls and curves in the shape of the edges- they would go from a dark black to a pale brown when they were held to the light. When Elisif asked what the arrows were made of, Arnbjorn shrugged and looked away. Elisif didn’t ask anymore but made a note to herself that she needed to retrieve the arrows after she shot the vampire. The Arentino was allowed to say goodbye as she left, giving her a hug as he had watched Cicero do. The rest of the Sanctuary watched anxiously as she walked out the door. Elisif vaguely wondered if she would ever convince them she would not leave them. It was a thought for another day. The trip to the mill was without incident. She had never seen this part of Skyrim, before. It was as if she was walking in a shady green valley- but all around her, the hills were of jagged black stone. Now and then she could hear a dragon speak in the distance. Fire would light up the night sky. Elisif was not such a fool as not to fear the creatures, but at a distance, it was like watching lightning strike the sea- a moment of sublime glory revealed to mortal eyes. She could not help but appreciate it. There was something off at the mill when she arrived just before dawn. It felt as if something powerful was watching her- but though the Night Mother had not spoken to her directly, there was still a significant presence of her in the room. It was like being in a town square with a body hanging in the gallows; you could ignore it- but it was still very obviously there by stench and by the flinches and quick darting glances of the townsfolk. Elisif snuck and climbed up to the top of the mill with no issue- avoiding getting her boots wet in the river. A woman was going in and out of the house- but she did not spot the man until he was right below her. He was covered in gore- his nails were like sharpened claws dripping with blood. Elisif waited until he was a good bit away from her before she drew her bow. She took a breath and froze. A voice called out from the house. It sounded familiar, but in the way a dream seemed familiar to the waking world. Tyre stood there, his arm around Hern’s wife- a thin knife pressed to her throat. “Greetings, Hern. The Lord of Volkhir sends his greetings.” There was something wrong with Tyre and something in Elisif’s stomach that lurched at the sight of him. She lowered the bow, letting the arrow ease out of the ready position. “I don’t know what I have done to gain the Lord’s attention,” Hern said. His eyes seemed fixed on his wife. She was letting loose streams of tears, which were dark like blood. Her hands shook as she wrapped them around Tyre’s arm. Her legs wobbled, and Elisif felt a flash of the same fear that had come to her when she watched Torygg die. The empathy Elisif felt for the woman caused her to shake and tears to well in her own eyes. Then she blinked and focused. “There is a traitor in his court,” Tyre said. His voice was too smooth. It was not raspy for his age- the deep scrape that Elisif had associated with him. “I have reason to believe he came here for sanctuary.” “There is no one here but my wife and I.” Hern said. “Here, see.” Hern cast detect undead- and Tyre, Hern and His wife were outlined in black, but there seemed to be no one else there. Except for a chicken, glowing subtly in the little building Hern had just come out of. Elisif, herself, was not glowing at all. Tyre was undead now. Elisif thought and wondered how that came about. But she had left Tyre in one fight alone and did not plan to leave him in another. Elisif fired an arrow between Hern and Tyre. It was not one of the new arrows but a poisoned iron arrow. Hern looked around wildly, but Tyre’s eyes landed straight on her. She said nothing, but she pointed to the slightly glowing chicken. Tyre nodded and let go of his hostage. Hern, however, drew his woodcutting ax from his belt and ran towards Tyre, face changing from human to a creature Elisif had never seen before, nor would she know how to describe when she asked Babette about it later. Instinct, bred into her by Cicero, Vezeera, and time, had one of Arnbjorn’s arrows in Hern’s back before he took two steps towards Tyre. The next arrow went into Hern’s wife- right between her eyes. The chicken, which was trying to escape as Tyre walked out of the shack, got another arrow. It went straight through its back and threw its breast. The chicken stopped to consider that for a moment before it started running away faster. Tyre noticed the strange behavior and started chasing the chicken around the farm. Everytime he would get within arm’s distance; the chicken would go off in a different direction- the arrow waving on its back like a flag. Elisif, it must be said, was shocked- more so than when it came to the Vampire’s face. She wasn’t sure why the chicken was important- but it was immortal and a bit faster than an undead Dragonborn. Tyre was chasing the chicken around when Elisif was able to scramble down the mill and race after the chicken. Elisif had spent many childhood hours chasing down chickens. She thought this chicken did not look nearly as clever as the chickens she had caught and eaten in Dragon’s Bridge. Elisif was correct. The chicken ran into her legs, unaware of the danger in front of him- concerned with the danger behind- unlike true Skyrim chickens. Elisif scoped him up, putting a hand around its neck in warning- thought the arrow through its body made her think the chicken may be immune to anything a mortal could do to it. Tyre slowed and stopped, looking at her. “Thank you for the help,” Tyre said, slowly. Elisif bundled the chicken under her arm and used her other hand to pull down her cowl and mask. Tyre’s shoulders slumped, and he gave a wide smile accompanied by a booming laugh. “My friend! It is good to see you.” Tyre walked forward and gave Elisif a backbreaking hug with one arm. “Don’t you smell delightful!” Tyre’s voice mumbled in her ear. He was quick to draw back, however. His teeth gleamed in the sun. “Why don’t we talk in the house if you have a moment? I need to chop off that chicken’s head.” Elisif gave a small smirk, but it quickly became a cry of alarm as the chicken transformed into a very dirty Nord, who tried to pull away. Tyre held up a hand and sent a spell towards him. He went stock still and fell to the ground. Tyre bent down and grabbed his legs, dragging him towards the house. Elisif took his arms and did the same thing. Her burden tried to bite her but seemed unable to get his teeth through her leathers. “Vampires can throw this spell off pretty easily,” Tyre said. They walked through the door and slung the Vampire through it; Tyre dropped him, before grabbing two rings off the vampire’s hands. The vampire seemed to shrink in on himself as all the light had gone out of his eyes. “Lord Harkon doesn’t want to see you, Lokir,” Tyre said, pulling out his dagger. “As a chicken or as a vampire.” The chicken-turned-vampire relaxed, but Elisif tensed. She understood the threat. “Unfortunately, his daughter caught you entering Fort Dawnguard and Castle Dour.” “It wasn’t me!” Lokir said desperately. “I wouldn’t betray anyone! It was Serena! I swear-” Tyre didn’t listen anymore dropping the knife and pulling a battleaxe that pulled in light and remained utterly dark. He took the ax and slowly dragged it down Lokir’s stomach, letting the blood and organs rise to the surface and overflow. Lokir was still babbling, using his hands to try and hold his stomach together. Then Tyre split his head down the middle. “A madman’s ravings, no doubt,” Tyre said, looking at Elisif. “No doubt.” Elisif agreed. “Actually, let’s get out of this house; it stinks,” Tyre said, grimacing. “The mill has some decent cover from the sun.” Elisif nodded and agreed. She took Tyre’s arm as it was offered to her. He walked her to the mill with a bit of a swagger- something she had never noticed before. She kept her peace until they were under the awning of the mill, leaning against the logs, side by side. Tyre gave a deep sigh before grinning. “It is good to see you. I was worried your bones were decorating Whiterun’s valley or stuck in some sabre’s stomach. We could only find bits of fabric and a knife I gave you when we searched.” Elisif shook her head, continuing her silence as she observed Tyre. His face was still as lined- if not more lined, than when she saw him last. His hair was the slightest bit whiter. His skin had been drawn tight around his muscles and bones, giving him the look of someone starved. His eyes were orange, but that was expected. He had fangs peeking out over his lower lip. But as a whole, it looked like he had lost the weariness he had carried with him everywhere. He was buoyant. His beard was neatly trimmed- as was his hair, pulled back into a long warrior’s braid. His hands were calloused, still- but his nails were neatly trimmed. Elisif looked him up and down, and Tyre seemed content to let her. “You look well,” Elisif said. “I was concerned when I heard about Lydia.” Darkness gathered up and covered them for a moment before Tyre took a long breath and sighed. “She will never be forgotten,” Tyre said a bit viciously. “If you have the choice, never go into a Dwemer ruin- they only bring destruction and death.” Elisif nodded. She doubted she would ever hear the actual tale, but it was good to know Tyre was free with his thoughts on the subject- and that he was not blaming anyone but the inanimate for her death. “You look like you have done well for yourself,” Tyre said. “I recognize that armour. I’ve had to peel it off a killer before. It was one of the more creative attempts on my life.” Elisif gave a small smile. “I think it suits me, more than a noble’s clothes ever did.” Elisif said, softly. “Though I do miss the dresses.” Elisif had a brief moment to remember the soft feel of velvet. Tyre shook his head, giving a low whistle. “Elisif, you were a light in the shadow at that court. You made the clothing fit the queen.” Elisif laughed at that. “Who has been teaching you courtly manners?” “Not bad, right?” Tyre said. “Ended up with some friends who demanded better manners from me. I’ve been practising.” “You landed on your feet,” Elisif said. She leaned slightly into Tyre’s cold body. “Lydia would be proud of you.” Tyre sighed but put an arm around Elisif. “I would like to think so.” Elisif felt her mind startle at how easy it was to treat Tyre as a friend. She remembered many months of being uncomfortable in his presence- and sensing he was uncomfortable in hers. It must have been her insecurities, Elisif realised. It had stopped her from allowing herself to enjoy the friendship offered. Lydia had ignored it, but seeing Tyre now, he must have been too insecure about overcoming her own insecurity. “Are you happy as a vampire?” Elisif asked. She had asked Babette the question once, and Babette had shrugged. Her friend in Morthal was against it. “Yes.” Tyre said. “I didn’t have much choice in the matter. It was become a vampire or die. I had the same problem as Lydia; it just came about slower. I couldn’t whisper by the end. This is much preferable to a slow death, forgotten in the countryside.” Elisif understood or understood as much as someone who had never faced illness understood. “What about you? The Dark Brotherhood treating you well?” Tyre asked. Elisif said nothing. “Ah, well. You’re alive and look like you could slit a man’s throat, so they would be happy to die in your arms.” Tyre put a hand around Elisif’s neck and pulled her forward to rest his forehead against hers. “I would like to meet the problem that thinks it could stand in your way.” <<>><<>><<>><<>><<>> A few weeks later, Elisif was training to dodge two-handed weapons with Arnbjorn when the Night Mother spoke.
The Sacrament has been done.
The Night Mother let the silence stand, but it was enough to let Arnbjorn throw her into a stone pillar with a swing to her stomach. Elisif let out a groan. Mother, I am sorry. Elisif said tentatively. Her ribs hurt, and others were helping her get to Babette and Festus, but she paid no attention. You were under too much stress. The Night Mother admitted if a little belligerently. I should recognize you are the least experienced of all my children, bar one, now. I should not have spoken to you so you were trying to stop me from dying. Elisif took the peace offering and returned it with her own.
It is over with and forgotten. Since you have decided to serve a Speaker instead of taking charge, you can tell Astrid there is a contract. I think she will like this one.
Elisif listened and wrote notes on where and when to meet the client. She then ran to Astrid, hoping to catch her in a good mood. Cicero had stopped speaking to her when she refused to try and take over the sanctuary. Oddly, Festus had patted her back and said that if Cicero hadn’t tried to kill her, they were probably still friends. Not everyone takes being turned down from starting a coup, well. That meant Cicero was becoming more and more erratic. He was talking to himself. He was bothering Vezeera’s new apprentice but ignoring the rest of them. Elisif felt like she was watching a fireball in slow motion and unable to run from the explosion she knew was coming. The Arentino boy was doing well, however. He continued to talk nonstop- and he had returned to hugging Elisif randomly. He seemed to have more luck with a short sword than a bow- his eyes were not suited to long-distance staring. Elisif had also seen him attempt to shoot a longbow and had to hide her face, so he didn’t see her smile when he shot himself in the foot. Vezeera helped him pull the arrow out, and he healed it, but there was little they could do to improve his stance. He had wanted to learn how to use a knife, but his focus was too loose, and he would randomly drop the knives. Elisif thought she was the worst student the Brotherhood ever had, but she supposed it was faint praise to be better than a twelve-year-old. Vezeera had the Arentino boy attack Elisif with twin swords, trying to increase his speed, but he was too slow and clumsy for Elisif to do much more than pat him lightly with the flat of her blades. It was a ridiculous notion to try and fight someone that unskilled. She was starting to appreciate Vezeera’s ability to draw out the skill that escaped everyone else’s notice. He saw the stumbling steps of a boy and showed him how to hold and use a sword. He saw that the boy would be fast, so he had him learn to run with weights on and move in a way that would exhaust him and push him to make the extra effort when he attempted any physical exertion greater than breathing. He also had him going up against Babette, but no one had told the boy she was a vampire. It was a daily struggle not to laugh at his red face when he did his daily exercises against Babette. She wasn’t tired, so Arentino didn’t complain about how much he hurt and how hard the drills were. Babette had told Elisif that it was a sign of a good assassin that he took the challenges in front of him as a chance to improve his skill, not a reason to complain and give up. Babette said she thought he had learned it from their Listener, who had never complained about whatever challenge had thrown at her. Elisif had been oddly touched, and then Babette tripped her and she had fallen into the spider pit. Elisif found Astrid standing over the map in front of her, her back straight but leaning on her hands. On the map were various colors of different stones. “Did you know that there are currently seven different factions in Skyrim?” Astrid asked Elisif as she came up. “I didn’t,” Elisif said, clutching the paper. “The Reach is in charge of a god-queen and the King of Rags. The thieves guild is holding Riften. The Mage’s College is holding Winterhold- forces being led by a khajit named by J’zargo. Most of Eastern Skyrim is held by Ulfric. The Empire is controlling the Coast and Falkreath- some of Solitude.” “Whiterun?” Elisif asked. Astrid shook her head. “Neutral. But that isn’t the interesting part. There is another player on the board. The Dragonborn is working with them, supposedly.” “Tyre is pretty open with his allegiances.” Elisif looked down at the map. “What seems to be the problem?” Elisif felt disinclined to share the information she had, though she was not entirely certain why. “The Dragonborn was supposed to be dying,” Astrid said. “Not only dying- but dying slowly. He was supposed to be a fallen legend by now.” “The Brotherhood put out a hit on him,” Elisif asked. It sounded like Astrid had an invested interest in that occurring. “Yes, but it didn’t succeed. He was slowly losing his ability to speak. Apparently, it was the same disease that had taken his housecarl. Ulfric had him exiled to the Rift right before the Thieves Guild took the Rift.” Elisif tried not to let herself bristle at the idea of Ulfric throwing out one of his friends for being ill. There must be something more going on, but Elisif didn’t want to think about it too deeply. Astrid grimaced. “Rumor had it that he was dead, and then he suddenly starts shouting again. We all know if there had been a cure to be found for the disease, he would have used it on his housecarl.” Elisif stared at the map. Little carved dragons (Cicero’s handiwork, it looked like) were spotted all over the map. “What’s the pattern?” Elisif asked. “That’s what I can’t figure out,” Astrid said. “If he had been only attacking the east or the west, we could assume he was taking his vengeance on Ulfric or the empire.” “But he’s going all over, but he isn’t touching the Archmage’s territory,” Elisif said. “Does he still need her, or is he honouring the care they gave Lydia?” Astrid hummed to herself. “Or can they keep him out?” Elisif said. “He hasn’t gone around Saarthal or Labyrinthian, either.” Elisif idly traced the path she had taken from Solitude to Whiterun. “How could they keep him out? He’s Dragonborn. The only way to stop him is for him not to know you exist in the first place.” “Runa Once-Dead was alive during the Dragon Priest’s time, wasn’t she? If anyone could keep him out, it would be her. Why do you need to know about the Dragonborn’s movements?” Elisif asked, slightly concerned Astrid might try and send another brother or sister after Tyre. “I am trying to think of a way to split up the sanctuary, so things aren’t as tense,” Astrid said. Elisif blinked, hurt hurdling through her. It started at her stomach and pushed the back of the throat, making her want to wail with the pain of it. Astrid seemed to sense some of the feeling, pulling her close and kissing her temple.“I’m not calming down, and you haven’t done anything to make me think you are disloyal- But I have no idea where to put you and Cicero- and Nazir, who has offered to go with you. Vezeera might after he finishes training the boy, but that will be several years down the line.” “Not likely to happen, with how Skyrim is split up.” Astrid said. “It still needs to be an option. We need to be able to communicate with each other- and there are no good paths here.” Astrid turned and looked at Elisif. “Did you need something?” Astrid asked curiously. Elisif had rarely sought her out in the past few months. Elisif held out a piece of paper. It had a name and a place written on it. “The Sacrament has occurred,” Elisif said. “The Night Mother wants you to send someone to deal with it.” “Wants me to send someone, or you to send someone?” Astrid asked bitterness creeping into her voice where the fondness had lived. “You, Speaker.” Elisif said. Astrid snarled. “Who would you recommend?” Elisif’s mouth opened, but she sensed a trap. Astrid huffed. “I am planning on setting you up with your own Sanctuary. Whom would you recommend?” Elisif thought for a moment. “We haven’t heard of any rumour in that area, so they are discreet or paranoid. Maybe both?” Astrid gave a small smile, “Good.” “It’s a Nord Tomb, so they are comfortable with disturbing the dead- but they don’t hold the Nord dead sacred. The client is probably not Dunmer or Nord, then.” “So you need someone polite, discreet, with a gentle manner,” Elisif said. “If they respected a child, I would say Babette- but otherwise, Nazir or Vezeera.” “Very good.” Astrid chuckled. “I think you and Nazir need another field trip.” Elisif jumped as if shocked. “Don’t look surprised, darling. You need to get back out into the world, perhaps not without supervision. You need to interact with people you intend to keep alive. Nazir knows what to look for and is not easily scared off. Let’s go tell him he’s getting out of the Sanctuary.” Astrid hooked an arm around Elisif’s, pulling her into the Sanctuary, but Elisif could not quite forget the map behind them.<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>> Arentino was allowed to bother Elisif, now. So he took a moment of his free time to come talk to her about her contract- or, well, he came to bother her. “Who are you going to kill?” He wrapped a hand around her wrist and bounced as if springs were attached to his feet. “I don’t know,” Elisif said. “I am going to talk to the person, like when you did the sacrament. “ “Yeah, but Vezeera said this was the first time the Night Mother has spoken to someone in forever.” “Which surprises me,” Elisif said. “She’s very chatty and demanding.” I would have made a wonderful nagging grandmother to my grown children. The Night Mother sighed. Now they nag me. This seemed to silence Arentino for a moment. “She, like, actually speaks?” Arentino asked. “What does she sound like?” “Smokey,” Elisif said. “Not a high voice, but nowhere near low. It’s a little musical. She hummed a lot when she started talking to me.” “She hummed?” Arentino asked. Elisif let out a few bars of what she had internally dubbed “The Night Mother’s Lullaby.” Suddenly several feet came running, and each of the Brotherhood had a weapon drawn or weapon prepared. “What was that?” Arnbjorn asked. His ears seemed to be going between a wolf’s furry triangles to a Nord’s and back again. Festus was the first person to lower his hands. He laughed. “Well, I haven’t heard that in a while. Don’t sing that unless you want the whole brotherhood to come rushing to you, Listener. That is the Call of the Brotherhood. I don’t think I have heard that in over fifty years.” Astrid’s face twisted again, but she seemed to smooth it out as she put away her dagger forcefully. “Is that what that was?” Astrid asked. “That was a lot more powerful than I thought.” Cicero, however, was looking at Elisif as if she had massacred someone in front of him- with an unholy devotion and uncontained glee. “Well, at least there isn’t any sort of doubt anymore,” Babette said reasonably. The dark abyss spell disappeared from her hands. “I can never repeat the notes, but no one would ever doubt that the Night Mother sent you.” Gabriella was giving Elisif a look, and Elisif couldn’t quite parce what she was thinking. “Elisif, would you mind doing me a favor?” Gabriella asked. She took Elisif’s hand. “Can you call a spell for me?” Elisif tried to cast muffle and was surprised when the spell worked- the sound around her was nearly silent. Gabriella nodded. “I think the Night Mother was building your magicka- you are a Nord who is not inclined to magic, and the Listener needs magic.” Gabriella looked over at Astrid. “If she had been revealed as Listener when she first came to us, she wouldn’t be able to do half of her duties- even interacting with the void requires some sort of magic.” Clever Girl. The Nightmother whispered. She’s my niece a few generations down, you know. I am delighted I got her instead of the Morag Tong. Elisif smiled a bit. “Cicero said she said the words!” Cicero said shrilly. “Do you think Cicero would lie about the Listener?” The entire Sanctuary replied yes, but Elisif thought that was unfair. Cicero was a bit mad, but he wasn’t prone to lying. What was the point in any case? Tell them Cicero has already killed a pretender. The Night Mother ordered. This has gone on long enough. Cicero’s mouth closed, his eye’s widened, and his ears went bright red. He took off his hat, wringing the fabric in his hands. “The Nightmother, knows.” Cicero said. Then he growled. “She did not say anything for years!” That’s fair, but I had quite a bit of bargaining to get someone as Listener. Mephala and Molog Ball- you know he doesn’t need to know all this. Tell him I’ve enjoyed his company all these years.” Am I going to be your glorified messenger service? Elisif asked. Yes, but not to this purpose. He’s been kept for quite a few years with no hope but that of duty. Consider this my gift to him. The rest of the sanctuary had fled when Cicero started getting stuttery. So Elisif brought Cicero over to her bed and sat him down. She whispered in his ear what the Nightmother had said. She also held him as he cried. She stroked his hair as he mumbled into her throat. Elisif looked at his hair, the white strands intertwined with red. He was younger than Astrid, Elisif realized. He was younger than a lot of the Sanctuary. And he sacrificed many of his prime fighting days to a duty where there was no hope- and probably sacrificed a lot of his sanity in the process. He had held on to tradition- And it hadn’t failed him. The sacrilege of having the Dark Brotherhood call anyone but the Night Mother, Mistress, must seem like something unbelievably foul to him. The Dark Brotherhood of Falkreath had survived by adaptation- Cicero had survived by obedience. Astrid was right, Elisif realized. There needed to be another sanctuary. It was too much to ask of Cicero to stay here. He needed rest- semi-retirement. Maybe a few contracts to let some blood out. Cicero could be polite in small doses but living here was too much. Nazir looked in the room to see Elisif holding Cicero. “Tomorrow morning will be soon enough to leave.” Elisif nodded as Cicero’s arms tightened around her. Elisif shifted him so he lay on the bed, curled into her side. The sobbing started anew, not the loud caterwauls of someone needing attention, but the soft pants that come from knowing the pain was over, even though he could still feel it. Elisif wasn’t sure how she felt about leaving the sanctuary, which had become her home. Giving Cicero a reprieve was worth it- it had been worth it when she left Solitude. She looked around and let her fingers glide through Cicero’s hair. As nice as it would be to have Astrid set her up a Sanctuary, Elisif felt she needed to make an effort to do it herself. Something told her that in another world, she would be going to the door she saw in Dawnstar, but she needed to keep that a secret. She felt she needed to keep that sanctuary for something else- though not for the Dark Brotherhood. There was a soft feeling of encouragement from the Night Mother- she was on the right track. She got a flash of the empty shrine of Talos in Castle Dour, and Elisif felt her brow furrow. A surge of avoidance came forward, and she closed her eyes. She threw her leg over Cicero, holding him close. She felt something in her move towards him. She could think about it later.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Thoughts of Nazir and Astrid and her past life fled as she sunk into a meditative state leaving the tomb. She was not ready to face anything yet. Nazir tried to talk to her on the way back to the Sanctuary, but for two days, Elisif stayed silent. The Night Mother was quiet as well.<<>><<>><<>><<>> Astrid sent Elisif to Riften to fence the amulet. Elisif had a reputation with the Thieves Guild, and Astrid wanted more time to look at the list of instructions Mottiere had given them. She was in deep conversation with Gabriella when Elisif left, not even a wave in her direction. Astrid was excited, she explained to Elisif, for two reasons. The first reason dealt with the fact they needed to set Elisif up with her own Sanctuary- and this would give them more than enough coin to outfit them. It would also put a crimp in the routine patrols of the Empire. Reputation was the other consideration. The Dark Brotherhood had been limping for years until Cicero and Elisif had shown up. They had been missing sacraments of those who were keeping them secret, the most serious who could do the most damage to the reputation of the Brotherhood. The contract would give them a boost in ways Elisif couldn’t possibly understand. Astrid had started making small comments about Elisif’s experience. There were some remarks that were well earned, but there was a ghost of a knife blade pressed between her shoulders when her time as Jarl of Solitude was brought up. Petty comments about making things look pretty. Elisif’s romantic soul was mentioned when discussing contracts. She was mostly doing it in front of the others, but Elisif felt the sting all the same. Elisif knew it was politics, but she hated the fact she had to deal with it in a place she considered her home. The road to Riften got easier the more Elisif traveled it. She was very freely wearing her armor. The thieves she saw peeking out behind trees gave her jaunty waves and asked about her day. They were often likely to share a drink if they saw her. Elisif had a pleasant time going to Riften. Her time inside the walls was a little less friendly. Everyone’s backs were up, and the air had a distinct smell of smoke. The Thieves Guild had members walking freely about, and when Elisif got to the center of town, Brynolf and Wujetta were clearly discussing plans with members of the town. Elisif didn’t need their attention and found herself going into the Ratway and into the Cistern, Wujetta’s voice echoing through the busy tavern. There was an alchemist, a blacksmith and regular shopkeepers all sitting at their tables selling to a large number of clients. There were several children playing in the murky water- and there was a Dunmer staring over it all with a look of wonder in her eyes. Elisif weaved her way through the Ratway with little issue- many of the thieves recognized her armor. Delvin Mallory, who Elisif had met on her last visit to the Rift, was drinking a cup of something with Vex and the young woman Elisif knew as Runa. The child was looking more like a young adult, her hair pulled back into a bun and wearing the clothes of a bar-maid, only slightly too big for her frame. She had keys at her side and two or three knives hidden on her. Her three bracelets were made of a strong steel, Elisif was sure she could not cut through with the sharpest of Arnbjorn’s knives. She gave a small grin that couldn’t be seen under her cowl. She was spotted quickly- for what were thieves but a bunch of atheists? Delvin leaned back in his seat, giving a wide grin. Vex gave her a nod, then got up to give Elisif her seat. It was in the corner, allowing Elisif to see the whole room- and to have her back to a solid wall of crates. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t the queen without a throne.” Delvin said He took a sip of his drink, then handed it to Elisif, who pulled down her cowl and hood. Runa, who had stayed by the table, gave her an appreciative look, which Elisif raised an eyebrow to. (She had finally figured out how to do it correctly.) Runa blushed but did not turn away. Delvin cleared his throat, causing Elisif to turn her attention from the child. “What brings Elisif the Fair to our hallowed halls?” “No longer ‘the Fair’.” Elisif said. “Need to know what this is and if you can fence it.” Elisif took out the jeweled amulet and watched as Delvin held it up to torchlight. “This is an amulet of the Elder Council.” Delvin muttered, turning it back and forth. “We knew you were being a bit vengeful, but you’ve moved on to killing members of the Elder Council now?” Elisif didn’t say anything. “I can give you a letter of credit for five thousand gold.” Delvin said. “That ought to cover it. If I sell it and it gets more profit, I’ll throw some of the coin your way- as repayment for the favors you’ve done us.” “Letter of credit needs to be made to Astrid.” Elisif said, taking another sip of her drink. “What favors? You’ve already paid me for the orphanage.” Delvin shook his head. “We didn’t pay you nearly enough for that. But you did us another favor. You distracted Ulfric Stormcloak and his troops. They were coming down to lay siege to the Rift, we nearly had a rebellion on our hands- and then he just ups and turns away- quick as you please. We learn that Elisif the Fair had been found and tracked down and killed a notorious serial killer.” Delvin gave her a bit of a pleased look. Elisif took another sip of her drink. It was good and hearty, and it warmed her through. She felt comfortable- at home amongst dishonest folk. The simple business transaction was better than any conversation that could be made at home. “It gave us a bit of time. Ulfric is trying to tend to his own city now, the College is trying to get the ships to make port at Winterhold now that the Shattershields are gone. They are even allowing the workers inside the city. Ulfric is having to work fast. The Rift is as safe as it is going be for a time. It gives Wujetta and Runa here time to plan and work out a solution.” “You wouldn’t happen to know where the Dragonborn is, would you?” Runa asked. “Last we heard he was clearing out a drug den north of here, but we haven’t seen him since.” “You’ve probably heard more than I have, then.” Elisif said, truthfully. She hadn’t asked much about what Tyre was up to, and she wanted to keep it that way for the moment. Runa tilted her head, but then nodded. “Right now, we are supplying the Reach with food and medicine as the Empire has tried to place an embargo on the Reach.” Elisif nodded to herself. That was probably the wisest decision Tullius could have made. The silver mines in Markarth were the only promise Skyrim had of keeping coin flowing to the Empire. Skyrim also provided food and timber, but it generally wasn’t enough, fast enough, to get coin back to the army. “Have you heard anything about Haafinger?” Elisif asked. Her curiosity getting the best of her. “Nothing good.” Runa shook her head, sadly. “Troops are starving, but they can’t desert. The General is stopping citizens from going in and out of Solitude. Food is being rationed. Meanwhile, there is going to be a wedding for the Emperor’s cousin in the next month. Everyone is upset. Trade is still occurring, though- the goods are just going straight to Castle Dour. Runa hesitated for a moment. “Falk Firebeard is blaming a lot of this on you, claiming you ran away from your duty.” Elisif’s mouth dropped open. Runa nodded. “That is the general reaction. It might have worked if the prison guards hadn’t let out that Tullius had imprisoned you for trying to get the Imperial Army to pay for food. Legate Rikki is the only one who can get the people to stop rioting without violence. It’s a powder keg. The Imperial Army can’t take Skyrim anymore- not without another couple Legions, they can’t even control Solitude.” The Night Mother gave a vicious sort of hum in Elisif’s head. There was the beginnings of an idea, but not one Elisif was going to give any time to. “What are the Thalmor doing?” Elisif asked the question that had been burning in her head since Astrid had shown her the map. Runa and Delvin looked at each other. “You mean you don’t know?” Delvin asked. “Everyone in Skyrim thinks it was you who done it.” “Done what?” Elisif’s heart sped up. “The entire embassy was found with its throats torn out.” Runa said. “One of our men escaped, but he won’t say a word about it.” “No,” Elisif said. “That wasn’t me.” Elisif took a sip of her drink. Throats torn out. “Wish it was, though.” Elisif said. Runa drummed her fingers on the table. “There is another faction we are missing.” She looked put out about it.” Delvin grunted. “Way I see it, if they aren’t bothering us, we don’t need to be bothering them.” Runa hummed. “That’s what we thought about the Civil War, and look how that’s come back to bite us.” Delvin grumbled. Elisif and Runa exchanged gossip for a bit- who was in charge, who had died. The Winterhold Mages had taken several of the orphans from Riften- offering them a trade or a magical education. Runa bit her lip for a moment. “Have you heard anything about the Aretino boy?” She said it stiffly. Delvin made a hushing noise. Elisif felt vaguely surprised at the question, but she supposed she shouldn’t be surprised. Aretino hadn’t talked about the orphanage much, but he had escaped and still wanted to stop Grelold from hurting the others. He must have had friends. “He has yet to be embraced by Sithis.” Elisif said. Delvin, Elisif noticed, relaxed a bit. He turned to look at Runa. “He’s alive.” Runa nearly fainted, with what looked like relief. Elisif prepared to catch her if she fell. “Good.” Runa whispered. She cleared her throat. “Good. We needed some good news around here.” Runa smiled at Elisif, as Runa pulled herself up straight “Seems you bring good news wherever you go.” <<>><<>><<>><<>><<>> Astrid met her at the entrance, as she had before. She was smiling- but her eyes were once again worried. “We have the first job available.” Astrid said. “We are going to kill Vici.” “The Emperor’s cousin?” Elisif asked. That would be the lighting of a powder keg in Solitude. “The same.” Astrid took Elisif’s hands and spun her around. “We need to kill her during one of her speeches. It needs to be long range, so they can get away. It needs to be someone who knows the city.” “It needs to be me,” Elisif said. She considered it for a moment. She hadn’t been to Solitude in years. She had left under cover of darkness from a jail cell after spending a very unpleasant time as a widow and a newlywed there. Her return would lead to the death of a woman who was starving her people. She liked it. “I couldn’t imagine a job I would enjoy more.” Elisif said, leaning forward and hugging Astrid. Astrid seemed shocked at Elisif initiating touch but returned the hug- full force. Astrid picked her up and spun her around in a circle. Elisif did the same to her, until they were dizzy and falling down the stairs to the main cavern. Astrid sent her off to get some sleep- and a bath, Astrid said a little pointedly. Apparently, Elisif smelled a bit of a cistern. Arnbjorn took that moment to leave the forge and throw Astrid over his shoulder, still covered in sweat and grim from the forge. Elisif, embarrassed, went straight to the pool, pulling off her armor- before splashing into the pool. There were soaps and potions under the waterfall- allowing Elisif to quickly scrub at her hair and oil it with the staminal potions. She had never let her hair grow out past an inch or two where Lydia had first cut it. She couldn’t even feel the scars from where the mudcrab had butchered her hair in the first place. She ducked her head under the water once again- it was cold in the way Solitude baths never were- but it was infinitely preferable. “The Listener has returned!” Cicero squeaked from the side of the pool. “Did you have a good time- was it a good murder?” “I didn’t murder anyone this time, Cicero.” Elisif said, concerned. “I needed to get an amulet evaluated by the Thieves Guild. Don’t they tell you where I go?” “No, No, Listener!” Cicero giggled. “The are worried Cicero might follow the Listener. They are afraid Cicero might interfere.” Cicero let a moment of silence go on before saying, in a sliding voice of an assassin. “And they are quite correct.” Cicero said. “The Listener is not supposed to be going on jobs. The Listener is supposed to stay and LISTEN. What will the keeper do when the Listener is constantly in danger?” Elisif started rubbing oil into the backs of her arms. “Cicero, if the Listener isn’t supposed to work, how does the Listener earn money?” Elisif asked, good naturedly. “Like the Keeper, out of everyone else’s pay,” Nazir said. “I heard you were back.” He pulled off his boots and socks before sticking his feet in the pool and sitting on the edge. “The Keeper’s pay actually should come out of your pay, which comes out of everyone else’s.” Elisif shook her head. “I’d rather work, thank you.” Cicero gave a long sigh. “So would I, sister.” Nazir shrugged. “It made sense, giving the person who brought in all the jobs a portion of the pay. Astrid and Gabriella get a portion of the reward for going out and talking to clients.” Elisif sighed. “No, thank you.” “Surely you can tell Cicero what the big contract the Listener has brought in, though?” Cicero asked. “It seems to have several extra steps.” “The Emperor.” Elisif said, dunking herself under the water again, only hearing a burble of noise from Cicero’s loud shouts of joy. <<>><<>><<>><<>> Elisif went back to Solitude by sea. She did not go by Dragon’s Bridge as she had when she first married- nor did she travel by swamp. She walked from ship- passage assured by the Thieves Guild- onto the dock. There was a door waiting for her, slightly cracked open, in the face of the tower below the windmill. The stairs were of the same stone that had hedged in her life for years. It did not feel so entrapping now- it felt a bit like an old blanket did. It was old, worn, and not useful anymore- but it still carried the smells of home. Elisif’s feet tapped on the stone to the Night Mother’s melody. She didn’t have to make noise, but she felt the need to create some difference on the space she occupied. She went up to the top of the windmill, then looked over the city. It was crowded. There were more people in the city than she remembered. There was no longer the smell of fish- but that of decayed flesh and overrun sewers. Elisif felt her nose wrinkle. There was a haze over the city like a mist, the smoke of too many cook fires in too small a space. Her face was covered, and she looked over the city knowing only those who didn’t believe would see her. A few children looked and pointed- but their parents pulled their hands down and walked away without a glance up. No guard looked up from his post, though there were many guards. The Solitude guards were wearing worn out armor, but the guards around Castle Dour wore shining mail. Elisif took a deep breath and kept walking. She walked the walls of Castle Dour with no one being the wiser and came upon the wall that overlooked the courtyard of the Temple. She knew most of the servants. She was a bit concerned about how thin they looked- about how slowly they moved. The tables up against the walls were groaning with food- the smell of fried horker and slaughterfish eggs made Elisif’s stomach gurgle. It was quite a bit for what she had heard of the state of Solitude. It wouldn’t surprise her if Vici decided not to pay any attention to what was going on in Solitude for her wedding. It wouldn’t disguise the stench coming from the city- but there were several incense burners throughout the courtyard trying to make an attempt. Vici was a friend of Torygg’s. She was very supportive until the support interfered with her business. She was one of the few people Elisif had thought could maneuver themselves around Falk. However, she would not maneuver herself around Falk and risk the ill will of Erikur and Bryling at the same time. She was willing to slip Elisif lockpicks and Torygg news from outside Solitude, but very little else. After Torygg died, Vici was prone to ignoring Elisif. Elisif wondered what it said about her that she didn’t particularly care about the little kindness’ Vici had done her. It was nothing good, Elisif imagined. She walked around the walls, observing the people. They were all people she knew, and they were all eating well. There were a couple of arguments going on about the Civil War, but they were so out of date, Elisif wondered how Solitude was still standing upright. Tullius was at the wedding. He was not drinking; discussing something with the Legate. Tullius did notice her, but he couldn’t seem to connect her to any danger. Elisif gave him a brief nod- which he returned- before continuing her perusal of the area. Be careful with that one, my wiles can only hide you from his eyes for so long. Elisif hummed to herself. She stretched her legs, knowing the wedding would not be starting for another hour, she walked the walls of Castle Dour. It was overfull. Where there once was a training area, there now were beds- sprawled out this way and that. The gate that was usually open was closed. Townsfolk gathered at the gate. Elisif could hear them begging for food and medicine. She couldn’t let herself listen to the details, letting the individual voices she knew go into a dim roar. What she was doing would help everyone, would save everyone. Elisif didn’t know if she felt anything. She turned back and looked at the Blue Palace, the sun glinting in the distance. She wondered if Falk could leave the Throne Room for the shame, he had put to governing her city. She felt perfectly at ease in a way she hadn’t the entire time she had lived in Solitude. There was darkness there- she felt an opportunity, the way she felt the openings in another’s guard. Exactly, my child. But not yet. Not yet. Elisif walked back to the area around the courtyard, observing the people. They were tense, or they were absentminded. They must be unaware of what was going on beyond the walls, or they must be very aware. A man with a hooded cloak came through the temple door, catching Elisif’s eye. He was limping slightly- but the cloak was finely made. When he threw the hood of his cloak back, Elisif was surprised to see it was Falk. He could leave the Blue Palace it seemed- but only in disguise. His hair was much greyer than it was. His eyes were quick and nervous. He held his arm to his side like he was clutching a wound. Elisif pulled her bow off her back. “Who is on the wall, get them off!” Elisif heard Tullius shout. She crouched and rolled. Got to a corner and jumped on to a nearby roof, before doubling back. When she looked back down, Tullius seemed to have lost her. He was walking over to Falk and wrapping an arm around his shoulder. He seemed to be comforting him. A servant came and took Falk’s cloak, and Elisif was surprised to see a brace holding Falk’s leg- attaching it to a wooden peg. Several of the guests came and laid a hand on Falk’s shoulder and then went about their day. Tullius stayed near Falk, keeping him close to his side. It was not the behavior of a lover. Elisif thought it looked more like when a parent was holding a particularly unruly child close to their side. Elisif kept watching as the party went by and Vici and her husband sat in front of the crowd. Elisif had sat there once. It may have been the worst decision of my life. Elisif thought to herself. For all she had gained from her marriage, she had lost it all again. None of Vici’s business contacts were there. There were only the people who were high in a court. This was a political affair, not one of good sense. Elisif scowled. She should have invited the owners of the storefronts, at least. Elisif was getting increasingly irate the more she observed the party- how disconnected it was from the rest of Skyrim. She felt her teeth clench and her jaw tremble. The tears that came so easily in Solitude seemed to find their way back with her return. Vici was going to make her speech just in time, it looked like. Killing Falk and Tullius was preferable, but she didn’t want to lose the opportunity to kill the Emperor. She could come back and assassinate those two later. Elisif drew back her bow, and the poison on the tip gleamed a bright green. Vici opened her mouth- and an arrow went through it. Elisif giggled.The entire party below was in havoc. She scurried down the other side of the wall, into the waiting hands of Solitude. There was a huge fuss at the gates, but Elisif wasn’t bothered. She walked a little ways. “Hello, Sister.” Vezeera said, from behind her. That did startle her; she gave a little squeak. She turned around to see the Arentino boy and Vezeera standing behind her. “We were going to help hold off the horde if you had gotten into trouble.” Vezeera said. “Doesn’t look like you need the help.” The boy looked disappointed, but Elisif gave them a nod in thanks. It was kind of them to follow her to help. “Was Astrid worried?” Elisif asked as she showed them how to get through the windmill to the docks. It was good sense for Astrid to send someone after her. She would want someone to follow an assassin into a place they might have a bad reaction to. “No, we came on our own.” Vezeera said, voice a little off. “Yeah, Astrid said Nazir and Gabriella couldn’t come,” Aretino said. “But Vezeera didn’t ask, so she couldn’t tell him no.” Elisif didn’t say anything for a moment. “Why...” Elisif trailed off for a moment. “She said it was another test.” Aretino piped up. “She wanted to see if you would leave us for good if you saw your city. She thinks you could take it back- singlehanded.” Vezeera put a hand over the boy’s mouth, but it was too late. Another test from Astrid had put out the ecstasy of the kill. Elisif gave a deep sigh. “You need to learn from our Listener, boy, and keep your mouth shut.” Vezeera said harshly. “I thought she wasn’t really the Listener, though?” Arentino asked as they walked down the shoreline where another boat was waiting for them. “Who told you she wasn’t the Listener, child?” Vezeera asked, wearily. “Well, no one! But I read the books, the Listener is in charge- and she’s not in charge.” “The books were written a long time ago.” Elisif said softly, so the boy would strain to hear and not try and speak over her. It was a trick she learned from Babette. “The Brotherhood has had to change over the years- and the books have not been updated. Astrid is in charge because she is very good at her job. I have only been doing this for a little more than two years.” “But you are one of the best! I heard-” “You need to not be telling people what you heard.” Vezeera sighed. “You need to shut up before knowledge gets you killed.” Elisif smiled to herself at that. She doubted the child would die while Vezeera was around to teach him, seeing as he was patting the boy’s head. Elisif asked about the training Arentino had gone through- what he liked about swords as opposed to axes. When they got to the boat, they heard a large commotion behind them. There were several soldiers running at them full speed. Elisif turned and pushed the boy behind her, stringing her bow. She let loose three arrows in quick succession. She picked off the first three. It gave Vezeera time to pull his daggers and charge, using his tail and legs to fling himself into the air. Vezeera was very good with daggers. Five of the soldiers were dead before they knew Vezeera was there, others watched Vezeera spin past them, only to notice they were bleeding a second later. Elisif looked further up the bank. There were more coming. They couldn’t hold off all of them. “Vezeera, swim!” She yelled. She pushed the boy in the boat, then used her feet to push the boat of the shore. Once the boat had made it far enough into the water, Elisif tossed herself in, banging her shins into the side of the boat and nearly tossing them over. “Paddle.” Elisif told the boy, not checking to see if he knew how to paddle. Her bow was letting loose more arrows. One, two, three, four, five. She was out of poisoned arrows. She had to be careful about her aim now- which was hard with the boat rocking. She aimed for the legs, as it was ill-advised to get in water with a leg wound, and almost impossible to swim. There were arrows coming towards her- but the bows were built for shorter distances. Elisif wasn’t worried until she heard a deep thunk. A crossbow bolt hit the little boat. “Apprentice,” Elisif said. “Get ready to swim.” There were another three thunks in rapid succession. Two hit the boat, but one hit Elisif in her upper right leg. “Void.” Elisif said, dropping. The boy had also gone down. They were just floating now. The soldiers would get boats and catch up with them soon. There was noise getting louder and louder in Elisif’s head, drowning out any word from the Night Mother. “What do we do?” Aretino whispered- but then the boat jolted- and started speeding along down the northern coast of Skyrim. Elisif started getting very nauseous. “What?” “I don’t know.” Elisif pulled off her lower cowl and started wrapping it around the bolt in her leg, keeping it still. It was too short to break, and too long to stay in her leg for long. The boy looked over the side of the boat. “Its Vezeera.” “Thank Sithis.” Elisif said to herself. “Last time I ended up escaping by strange means, I ended up with Cicero. I can only deal with one of him at a time.” “Hey!” The boy said, but mostly grinned at her. He seemed happy to be moving- fat tears ran down his face as he smiled. “Exciting?” Elisif asked. “More than hunting Spriggans.” Aretino giggled at the bottom of the boat. The high of escaping was putting off the pain in her leg, but Elisif ignored it to think for a moment.<<>><<>><<>> Like every other experience with Vezeera, Elisif learned. The way back was filled with lessons given to the boy that Elisif looked in on. She was surprised to learn she had several things she could talk about when it came to traveling in Skyrim. Vezeera let her talk, not correcting her on anything. When Elisif asked why he didn’t add anything, Vezeera flicked his tail back and forth for a moment. “You learned how to survive the wilds of Skyrim from an expert. I don’t have anything else I can add.” Elisif had never considered that, but it made sense. Tyre had been wandering the wilds for years by the time he had picked up Elisif. He was said to have escaped Helgen with nothing but his hands, dragging a thief behind him. Eventually the conversation turned to sneaking, and Elisif would sit with blindfold as Vezeera would have the boy try and sneak up on her without her noticing. He didn’t succeed once. Vezeera looked frustrated, saying generally young ones are easier to teach than the older- clearly meaning it as a compliment to Elisif. Elisif didn’t take it as a compliment. “I am shit at swords.” Elisif pointed out. “I’m better with detail work, or long distance. Blending in is my specialty. You wouldn’t as Arnbjorn to do my job, or me to do Arnbjorn’s. Try and figure out what the boy is good at before focusing on the things he isn’t.” Vezeera hissed but nodded. He continued to teach Arentino to sneak, but he varied the lessons to include random lessons- armor, two handed, and such. “He doesn’t have magic,” Vezeera said, as Elisif was cutting some mushrooms for Babette. She had found a good patch earlier. Elisif paused as she cut her mushrooms, looking at Arentino take a small bite out of a butterfly in the distance. “Have we tried him in Alchemy yet?” Elisif asked. “No.” Vezeera looked at the boy for a moment. “Babette is a little possessive of the table.” “Hm.” Elisif said. She stood and rolled the Fly Amanita in a bright red cloth. “Try him.” Vezeera did so, and both of them were irritated when Arentino could quote the difference between random ingredients from memory. He had been listening to Babette. “We will get him started.” Vezeera said. “It’s a useful skill for an assassin. I am still confused why the boy has no skill at sneaking, though.” Elisif shook her head. It unnerved her a bit as well- like it was a sign. The Dread Mother didn’t give any impression Elisif understood- just that the boy was supposed to be trained. Elisif had a good time walking south from Dawnstar, guards were out and about, but they didn’t pay any attention to Elisif. By the time they arrived at the Sanctuary, Elisif felt as if she had a good vacation- and had developed a good tan. When they arrived in the Sanctuary, a large cheer went up. Elisif was immediately plied with food and wine. Festus was asking Arentino to tell him absolutely everything about the kill. Nazir had picked Elisif up and danced around with her. When Astrid arrived, she also lifted Elisif off her feet and spun her around. “The news is absolutely everywhere.” Astrid’s voice was authentic and a bit hysterical. “The emperor’s own cousin- butchered at her own wedding.” Astrid pressed a kiss on Elisif’s cheek. “You’ve certainly earned your reward.” Elisif felt heat flash through her at the touch. Sharp embers traveling from her face to her fingertips. The night seemed to fade into too-sharp sensations and half-remembered memories.Astrid handed her a scroll. Elisif opened it- and was quickly taught by Gabriella and Festus on how to use it. Elisif remembered that. Then Elisif summoned the assassin. “Listener!” The assassin seemed pleased to see her, and he told her all sorts of stories. Then Nazir jumped in, and then Cicero was convinced to share his- Gabriella was able to top them, but then Festus added his long years to the conversation. The stories wove themselves into Elisif’s mind, but she could not tell what story had been first or which had been last. She remembered what she felt when they all fell asleep in the dining room, each of them curled in each other’s arms- happy with a job well done. The sound of each of her siblings snoring or whispering in dreams. The Night Mother’s embrace was cold, but it was barely noticed for the smell and heat of flesh.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Elisif didn’t have much time for convalescence. Gabriella was in charge of the next stage of the plan, and as it was another that needed an assassin with good sneaking skills and long-range vision, Elisif was chosen once again. Cicero seemed indignant, holding tightly to her hand. Elisif had lived in Dragon’s Bridge for several years, and was thus familiar with the Penitus Oculatus, though she couldn’t say she had ever spoken with them. She had been a child; then she had been more concerned with traveling to Solitude than she had with investing with what was going on in her own hometown. The agents looked like the Empire’s soldiers, but their gaze was meaner, their common sense non-existent. Elisif was familiar with the Maro family. They had sent her some lovely goblets a few months after her wedding, which they could not attend. The goblets were put away and never used- they were ostentatious for anywhere in Skyrim. Silver was the metal to use. Gold was, at most, used in circlets for Jarl’s families and on small bits of jewelry. It was not used in decoration. Elisif and Gabriella had discussed Commander Maro’s position in Skyrim with the current political ideology. The way the Penitus Oculatus was not speaking to General Tullius- the way Tullius was editing their messages to the Empire’s Council. Tullius was acting like nothing had changed in the last two years, so it was likely that the Empire might attempt to do their regular security measures- but it was by no means a guarantee. The council member who had hired the Dark Brotherhood had given them instructions. Still, they were filled with holes that did not account for the change in Skyrim’s governance- nor the hoards of bandits that had taken upon themselves to be called Stormcloaks, Foresworn, or Legionnaires. In any case, Elisif was to follow Maro’s son to any of the cities he went to and plant a letter of incrimination on his body- preferably anywhere but Haafinger. Due to the variety of factions in Skyrim and the problematic safety of the road, Elisif would likely have to keep him safe until she got to a city. Elisif went to Cicero to discuss long-term stalking- as well as Babette. Babette advised her not to try and make friends. She was calm, but one of her fangs poked into her bottom lip, and she kept sucking the blood into her mouth. “He will be prepared for that,” Babette said, hands still in a way Elisif was not used to; the peoples of Northern Tamriel moved when they spoke. “He’s on a dangerous mission in a place where he is expecting spies. With any other situation, I would play up a lost noble woman act- but this soldier has been working in courts- he knows how the game is played.” Babette claimed not to have any more advice but followed Elisif to talk to Cicero. Cicero had more technical advice- when to use the restroom- how far to stay back, and how to keep an eye on a broad field at once. Festus put an enchantment on her bow; it would give a bit of a shock when it hit anyone. Arentino made a poison for her to use- under the guidance of Babette. He ended up with a slight rash on his hands from the Nirnroot, but the poison was, according to Festus, exquisite. Arentino blushed with pride. Elisif thanked the boy, scrubbing her hand on his head like her brother used to do to her. He batted her hand and pulled out a dagger, making her laugh. He wasn’t used to the amount of attention he was receiving from all angles now that he had gone on his first job. Even Nazir was allowing himself to try out puns on the boy- to which the boy groaned at appropriate moments. Astrid was staying out of this next step. Cicero and Astrid had reached some accord, but Elisif didn’t trust it. She asked Nazir to keep an eye on the two of them, and he dismissed her worries- but there was a look in his eye that made Elisif feel she did not need to pursue it. Cicero clutched at her, hands running over her, desperate. He didn’t attempt to persuade her out of her jobs, but the clench of his fingers on her armor was more than apparent. Elisif had her bow strapped to her back when she left Falkreath under cover of night. She left while everyone except Astrid was sleeping. Astrid was looking over the maps, eyes tired and hands trembling, her hair falling forward in front of her face. Astrid was in her forties and had reached her time early- it often led to late nights and uneven sleep. Arnbjorn would often stay up with her, though. When Elisif asked, Astrid told her he was sleeping off another job for her. “The Reach and the Companions are stuck in a deadlock,” Astrid said. “Our services are being called upon by several of the Hagravens- they have started fearing being butchered. It’s for a good reason- but this long-term back and forth is wearing Arnbjorn out.” “You set him up against most of the Companions, don’t you?” Elisif asked. It was well known. “I don’t send him out against the Twins.” Astrid said. “He remembers them when they were kids, and they often work together. He’s getting to the age where it’s not quite certain that he could get the best of both of them and walk afterward.” “What’s the god-Queen doing about it?” Elisif asked. She was always interested to hear about how the Reach changed under a different rule. It sounded like a magical land full of enchantments and creatures at peace. A world of legends come to life. “If a Companion sets foot on sacred land, she’s giving a prize of a thousand gold to whoever brings her their head,” Astrid said. She grinned at Elisif. “Arnbjorn has gone on a bit of a spree. Madanach, from what I hear, is trying to broker peace between his wife and Balgruuf. I don’t envy him the job- trying to deal with Balgruuf. He’s still holding Nelkir over her head to keep her from invading Southern Whiterun. It doesn’t help a good portion of the Forsworn there will back his claim.” Elisif winced at the idea. Balgruuf owed much of his political power to his family’s work with bandits, but this felt like a step too far. It reeked of corruption. “Balgruuf is corrupt.” Astrid agreed with Elisif. “But he is fairer about his corruption than, say Ulfric or your Falk Firebeard. He’s not changeable. If you back Balgruuf, he’ll back you. The Companions are non-political, or Balgruuf may have slaughtered some foresworn and put their heads on spikes after what we have been doing to the members.” “Whiterun doesn’t protect the Companions?” Elisif asked. This was news to her. The Companions and Whiterun were used so interchangeably that she didn’t think there was any difference. “That doesn’t match what I remember of them.” “The Companions aren’t taxed, they don’t provide soldiers, they will attack protected bandit camps, and they will not defend Whiterun in case of attack,” Astrid said grimly. “Yet, they are treated like gods by the townsfolk. I have heard good things about the new Harbinger. He has been known to get off his ass now and then to deal with factions. He believes in protecting the innocent, or at least the unwary. He has been especially helpful to the Khajhit caravans.” “It is good someone is looking out for them,” Elisif said softly. She remembered J’zargo’s back leaving Solitude and her friend in Morthal. Elisif thought she would let those thoughts simmer in her mind on the way to Dragon Bridge. “Any idea where you want your Sanctuary?” Astrid asked casually. “I have an idea or two,” Elisif said. “I’d like more time to think before I show you.” The Night Mother whispered caution to her, and Elisif headed her. She felt like she was constantly walking on the edge of a cliff. Astrid, Cicero, and the Nightmother pull her like wind coming in two directions. She could only keep her footing. The rest of the Brotherhood would not dare come near her for fear of falling themselves.Thankfully, Elisif went out into the night with only the wind in her ears. She crossed the plains of Whiterun until dawn broke, and she crawled inside a hollow log to sleep. The wood was dry and ants were pulling out of a hill. She waved a hand at them, and the ants turned away as she slept. She dreamt of the Night Mother again. She looked as she had, but her eyes seemed to pierce Elisif. The eyes were all seeing, but to Elisif, they looked like empty sockets, bereft of life or love. In her dream, the night mother stalked Elisif. Elisif did her best not to move, but she felt herself escaping with each step the Night Mother took. Other creatures walked towards her into the night. Elisif would wave a hand, and the creature would not be able to see her, but the Night Mother continued to move. In the end, Elisif felt her back hit something. She looked up and saw it was the Falkreath’s Sanctuary door. The skull and skeletons a lurid purple, bright and pulsing. The Night Mother placed both hands by Elisif’s head. Elisif could hear rasping breaths and cold wind by her ear. Elisif stared into the sockets and saw her eyes staring back at her. This dream was familiar in the way legends were familiar across cultures. For every step Elisif had taken, she was sure another person had taken a similar step. The Night Mother pressed Elisif’s shoulder, pushing her down on her knees. Elisif felt as if her flesh was gone; there was only cartilage's softness and bone's brittleness. Elisif wanted to go willingly but couldn’t seem to make herself not resist. Her muscles burned and knotted, refusing to let her turn this way or that. Her hands clawed at the Nightmother’s skirt, as old and ruined as the one wrapped around her corpse. Eventually, her legs collapsed from underneath her. She clutched the Nightmother’s legs, and the Nightmother stroked her head. Her hair became live wires of nerves. “Time has already been decided.” The Nightmother crooned to her. “You have already made the choices within your power. The rest will follow as snow in an avalanche. Forget, for a while.” Elisif fought for her feet again but was pushed down. Elisif felt a pleasure burn at her core, pushing her through and over several climaxes until she woke crying. The pleasure had been empty. It was little flicks against her being, not the overwhelming comfort Nazir gave her. Nazir had been safe, warm at her back. His hands had bound her and unbound her, pressed against her, and pleasured her. She had been working with him, had been forced to work with him. The Night Mother was like a jerky shadow of what Nazir had attempted. The pleasure had been an offering for forgiveness- of some crime she did not know of. Elisif woke sure the price would be far greater that whatever imitation of pleasure the Night Mother could give her. That did not mean she did not feel the after affects of the pleasure. The sun was setting outside her log and Elisif got up to find her body tingled with successive orgasms- there was no soreness in any part of her body- and she felt a languid energy roll over her as she walked on. She forgot to eat.<<>><<>><<>> Elisif went around Rorikstead, as there was something deeply haunted about the town. The Night Mother agreed. This involved sneaking past a dragon, several skeevers, and a giant- but Elisif was intent on not losing any arrows to the town. She saw her friends in the distance- the ones who had seen her first kill and had not known her as Elisif. She left a note by their door, hoping the binding suited them still. They looked happy in the way ordinary people usually didn’t. She didn’t go over the bridge to enter Dragon’s bridge; she went under it, crawling and hugging the bridge as she had during her first months in the Sanctuary. The Penitus Oculatus building was on the west side of town, making Elisif have to go around the town to avoid being seen- which was a real problem, having spent many years in the town. She decided the best way to wait was to find a good place to hide- which happened to be on the roof of the headquarters. The boy, Maro was getting advice from the other officers about what to expect on his journey around Skyrim- but he would be going to Solitude first. They told him to prepare for citizens failing to proper respect. They told him to expect liars and cheats. They told him his bunks would be worse than the ‘camping’ they were doing at the headquarters. Elisif thought they seemed to be priming the boy for his own death- or the death of anyone he might meet. It was all the same to her- he was dead. The boy went from soft and curious to hard and unbending. He eventually went and started making out with his girlfriend behind the building- which was awkward for Elisif, but must have been just as awkward for the several agents sitting on the other side of the woodpile. The looks on their faces must have mirrored her own as sounds of wet sucking started echoing through the air. By the time the moans had started up, Elisif was determined to try and go to sleep. It was made no less awkward when an angry woman came up and threw water on them- talking about common decency. The girlfriend ran off in a rush, but the agents who got to see the whole thing burst into raucous laughter once the girl left. The superior officer gave the young man some sort of chore as punishment, and Elisif went back to watching the town. A moth priest was in town, staying at the inn for some reason. Elisif didn’t particularly care. She did take notice when two- entirely out of place- persons came walking into town asking about the priest. Their eyes glowed, and Elisif felt the Night Mother hiss and growl in her head. Do not meddle with that. The Night Mother said, calmly. That is Molag Bal’s business and possibly Akatosh’s. Elisif didn’t move her eyes from the vampires, but she kept her ears listening for Maro. They spoke with old accents and their heads tilted like they were scenting prey. They had noses just slightly upturned, pulled back into a snarl. Their voices stayed pleasant. Elisif didn’t eat that day.<<>><<>><<>> Maro left late at night, as did the Moth priest and vampires. Maro headed north towards Solitude, and Elisif felt herself ache as she crept after him, the incriminating letter burning in her pocket. She prayed that he would start east eventually, but she found herself following him up the hill. Solitude loomed in the distance like a forgotten temple. He made his way up to Solitude, led by a bright torch. Elisif mentally smacked the boy. He was attracting every animal, every pickpocket, and every bandit straight to his location. He was let into the gates of Solitude with much greeting and pats on the back from the Imperial soldiers- the solitude guard was nowhere in sight. Elisif was unnoticed as she climbed over the walls and crept after Maro- who went to the barracks. There seemed to be wailing from the streets, though they were mostly empty. Elisif was determined not to look around. Some several men and women were curled up in the streets. No children were giggling and no singing from the Bard’s College. Death overwhelmed everything else. It sickened Elisif. She wanted to throw Falk Firebeard in the dungeons and set General Tullius on fire. The resigned and helpless Elisif was gone- but also was the part of Elisif that wished to be fixing things. Skyrim had dissolved into so many parts and pieces- Tamriel had as well, that Elisif was unsure if it could be fixed. But Elisif knew the Blue Palace had enough room to keep the people warm and sheltered. She knew the Blue Palace had fishing rights to the northern tip of the Hold- and that a Horker could feed a single family for weeks or even half a town for several days. These people were trapped in a city when they had been surviving the land for generations. It was not only Nords who knew how to survive Skyrim. It would be so easy, Elisif thought for a moment, to solve the immediate problem- the long-term problem could wait. If she had to pinpoint the fault of Falk’s governance- that would be it. The long-term problem was always given precedence over the short-term. Meanwhile, short-term problems built up and caused more long-term problems. It was paralyzing to think that way in governance. Elisif walked down the street and into the barracks behind Maro. She watched him lay down, listened to the sleeping soldiers around her- And she slit his throat. It was a simpler job than she thought it would be. As she walked out of Castle Dour, however- she caught sight of the storeroom. It was loaded with cheeses and loaves of bread and horker meat. Mother, Mother. Elisif intoned. Just, for one night, can your blessing cover Solitude as well? The Night Mother was silent, but it didn’t matter in the end. Elisif’s mind seemed to catch onto Elisif picked up two wheels of cheese and walked out of the castle. Behind her, two guards followed. She glanced back to see they were the same guards who had let her out of the cell two years ago. She said nothing to them; they said nothing to her. Thur fingered his ax, eyes gleaming under his helmet. There was a smell of animals in the air, but the guards did not harm her, but acted as her shadows. Elisif walked up to the first people she saw huddled against the wall of Castle Dour. She handed them one of the rounds of cheese. She went to the next group and handed them another wheel. She went back up the steps to Castle Dour and slowly emptied the store room. The guards behind her picked up food as well and carried it outside to the citizens. Every time a Legionnaire would look at her, she would wave a hand, and they would turn. Some soldiers rose from their beds, but Elisif put them back to sleep. She did not know what blessing it was, magic or the Night Mother, but she did not question it. More of the Solitude Guard saw Elisif, and they followed her and picked up food to give out. They seemed to be in a daze- as if they were not quite themselves. They talked to no one, and no one talked to them. The process should have involved noise- cheering at the food, arguing, and screams of fright at the Dark Brotherhood uniform, but the entire city seemed to be utterly silent. The streets still seemed to wail. When the storeroom was empty and the crowds were eating, Elisif took a bite of cheese. She felt her head spin slightly at the lack of food and rest, and she collapsed. <<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>She woke in the Fletcher’s shop, covered in furs. She could hear the argument outside her hiding place as Imperial Guards tried to get Fihada to let them search the place. Elisif said nothing as the guards hit him, and tried to bully past him- only to hear the blacksmith and several other merchants argue.“This is a meeting of the Merchants of Solitude.” The blacksmith said. “You have bled us dry; let us try and see if we can keep our city going for a little longer.” His tone was dismissive and a bit pleading.Her general store owner threatened to take someone’s nose off if they didn’t leave them be.Elisif felt herself grin. Eventually, the imperial soldiers left, and the furs were pulled off Elisif.She was oddly surprised to notice her cowl was off. She tried not to use her hands to cover her scars. She didn’t say anything as she swung her legs around and stood, stretching. All of the merchants looked at her- their faces were openly hostile.Elisif said nothing.“Bar the door.” The smith said. A young boy quickly did as he was told. Her dressmaker stood up and held a hand filled with fire near Elisif’s face.“We have questions, Jarl.”“And if we don’t like the answers,”“You won’t be getting out of this place alive.”Elisif nodded, then gestured for them to ask. She didn’t say anything. Silence, she learned, made her friends.They looked at each other.“How long have you been out of Solitude?” One of the merchants asked. It was San, who dealt in the drinks that Torygg considered too lower class to drink, but they had often warmed Elisif’s hands and gave her a giddy sort of joy.“Two and a half years,” Elisif said.“Why did you leave?”“General Tullius imprisoned me,” Elisif said. “It was made clear to me that I was not the ruler of Solitude and that I could do nothing to change what General Tullius was going to do. I could stay imprisoned, or I could leave. I chose to leave.”“It was General Tullius, not Falk Firebeard?” The Smith, Beirand asked, looking over at another group member. He probably made my first set of armor. Elisif thought.“Falk Firebeard was working with General Tullius.” Elisif said simply. “He was overreaching his power since before Torygg died. I understood that I served at his leisure.”“That was not our understanding.” Taarie, the Altmer who had embroidered her wedding dress, said.“We chose you, not Firebeard.” Jala, who had given Elisif a ride to Solitude when she first left Dragon’s Bridge, said.“We needed someone young with Fire in their bones, not their beard.” Viarmo seethed to himself. He had introduced Elisif to several people throughout her life in Solitude. He was always helping her make as many connections as she could. He had also shown her how to stand up straight and command the attention of a crowd. His lessons had saved her other lessons from Falk.Elisif stood quietly as they discussed the information she had given them. She was surprised that she could remember each face, each voice.A young girl stood next to Elisif, her hand grasping her leg. When Elisif looked down, the girl’s face melted into a skull. Elisif looked up to see that no one else had noticed this.“What are you planning on doing, High Queen.” The smith seemed to be speaking for them.Elisif tilted her head. “Doing? I was ousted from my position. Why have you not elected a new leader?” There was a small uproar at this.“Who would you suggest? No one is standing up to the Empire; everyone in Solitude knows that if we upset them, our trade will be cut off.” Sayma pointed out. Her cheeks were thin in a way they were never supposed to be.“It’s already cut off.” Elisif pointed out. “The Empire is effectively just draining Solitude. It can’t get access to the Reach, Windhelm, the Rift, or Winterhold.”The merchants looked at each other like this had never occurred to them. Elisif understood. Hope was sometimes damning. The assurance that things would get better if you just stuck it out drained you until you no longer realized when that hope lied and you were walking dead.“You are in the odd position.” Elisif said, “Of having nothing to lose and everything to gain. They aren’t sharing food, but there are fish and horkers outside this gate. You have no medicine- but all the ingredients are outside this gate.”“There are also enemies outside this gate.” Morrard looked uncomfortable, her hands red and swollen. She must not be able to get good ingredients anymore. Elisif thought. She’s substituting Nirnroot for other things. “If I can survive outside the gates of Solitude, so can the rest of you.” Elisif said, not backing down. “You have guards who can wield a bow or a sword? Take them with you.” Elisif looked to the two guards who had lead her out of prison. They sat in the back, silent.“Half of us have been kicked out of our stores and-” Onis started.“Take them back.” Elisif said. “If you are looking for an armed force to come and take them back for you, you will die waiting.”“Why haven’t you taken back the Blue Palace, then?”Sayma asked, spitefully.“Why haven’t you?” Elisif asked. “There is food there, surely- an excess amount of firewood. It is warm.”“You make it sound like it’s all up to us.”“It always was up to you.” Elisif said. “That is the purpose of a moot. Those warriors of fighting age can decide upon their own leadership, based upon their own merits and the needs of a Hold.”“That was just a formality.”“It doesn’t have to be.” Elisif saw more and more little skeletons crawl in and take hold of her armor.The merchants looked at each other, a bit disturbed, but Elisif could smell a scent of steel rise throught the room.“Ulfric Stormcloak, the Dragonborn, Vita, and I- we were just the rallying figures.” Elisif said. “We get certain benefits from being in charge- from being seen- but Skyrim’s future has always belonged to the people who live in it.”“You mean the Nords,” Her dressmaker drawled out.“I mean the people. Argonian, Khajhit, Dunmer, Altmer, Orsimer, Wood elf, Nord, Imperial, and Breton. Whoever choses to live in Skyrim, among the people of Skyrim- bonded for the common purpose of survival- those are the people who determine Skyrim’s fate. They are the people who chased the dragon cult into extinction- the people who won the wars for the Empire- and the people who have survived every single winter that has been thrown at us. We are the people who will spit in the face of dragons.”The ghost children seemed to freeze, then each gave a little giggle before vanishing.The merchants looked at her, and Elisif thought they might be the first people outside the Brotherhood and Tyre who could actually see her for the first time.“Pretty words from a murderer for hire.” The Viarmo college snarled. “A murder encouraging us to murder. I still say we call the dragonborn.”“The Dragonborn was exiled from Haafinger.”<<>><<>><<>> Elisif felt like the Blue Palace would be one good, final gift to the people of Solitude. It wasn’t hard to find. She gathered the guards still wearing Solitude’s armor and had them start herding the people into the palace in the middle of the night. When she asked her shadows why they did not talk, they opened their mouths to show the mangled roots of a missing tongue. Elisif’s mind went quiet with rage. As with the night before, the Empire’s soldiers stayed asleep. There were torches lit and trailing down to the Palace in a line. Elisif stood in the darkness and watched them. When the palace guards refused to let them in, Elisif dealt with them quickly and silently. The people of Solitude flung their bodies into the street- as so many of their dead had been left abandoned. No one shouted; no one screamed. The anger of the city seemed to burn best in silence. Elisif did not wear her cowl. The court mage was woken and directed to leave- but instead bargained to stay with her healing powers. The crowd was quick to consent- and the mage was quick to get to work. Elisif had her work on her shadow’s tongues. Neither of the Thanes lived in the palace- but Elisif’s old housecarl did. Elisif had the guards hold him, as she went to deal with Falk herself. She stood over his bed and waited for him to come awake- the two guards who freed her from Castle Dour were behind her. Falk woke slowly- then tried to attack Elisif with a dagger when he saw the uniform. It was not until he saw Elisif’s face did his manner change. “You came back! Finally.” Falk said. “You left your hold in quite a state, High Queen.” Elisif stayed silent and watched him. Falk watched her back. “I am not High Queen.” Elisif said, eventually. “The only Queen in the area is Vivi Mort- and she does not rule Skyrim.” If Falk seemed surprised, but he did not show it in a way any but Elisif could see. “If you are not here to take your rightful place as queen, what are you doing here, Elisif?” Falk asked. “I am the steward of Solitude; without your title- I am not under your authority.” “No, I suppose you aren’t,” Elisif said. “I am giving the citizens of Solitude the Blue Palace. It is mine by marriage, no matter the Title. I will take it instead of whatever payment I should have received as Torygg’s widow.” Falk opened his mouth to correct her, but Elisif made a tsking noise. “Do you think I do not know the law of inheritance, Steward?” Elisif watched as Falk’s eyes go red. “You don’t like that, do you? Being addressed by your title instead of your name. I didn’t like it either- but you will no longer have your title after tonight.” “You can’t take away my job, Elisif. You already said you weren’t Jarl. It looks like you are a criminal.” Falk struggled to stand, the guards unable to hold him down. Elisif had a moment of fear, but then she remembered taking down Arnbjorn when he was armed with a hammer. She stepped forward and kicked his knee- causing him to fall on his face. “I’ll take away your job the same way you took mine,” Elisif said. “I’ll make it, so you cannot perform your duties. I’ll make it, so no one believes anything you say- well, maybe not.” Elisif pulled out a flaying knife she had taken from one of the fishermen. “Open his mouth,” Elisif commanded. The guards did what she wanted without hesitation, but Falk pulled away again. Elisif kicked him in the balls that time. “Please, Elisif- let me defend myself. I always let you explain your mistakes.” Falk said, pleading. “You were never supposed to be in judgment over me,” Elisif said, tilting her head. “You were supposed to serve me. You were supposed to help me. You tormented me.” “Elisif,” Falk pleaded. “You made very bad decisions. We would have been at odds with the Empire. Solitude would be in shambles.” “Solitude is already in shambles,” Elisif said. “The people are starving, our dead are rotting, and we have lost Skyrim- not to the Civil War, but General Tullius’ incompetence and problems that have been dividing Skyrim for over twenty years. In your haste to save Skyrim from me, you didn’t see the enemies that were actually at the door.” Falk opened his mouth to answer her, explain something, and give some excuse- but Elisif knew she could not continue to let him talk. She hooked her fingers in his mouth- she pushed the knife in, flat against his tongue. She turned the knife- And she cut down. Falk choked as Elisif pulled out his tongue. “That isn’t a punishment from your Jarl, Falk.” Elisif said as he frantically spit out blood. “That isn’t a punishment from your Queen.” Elisif stood silent for a moment. She bent down to whisper in his ear. “That is the revenge of the Listener.” Elisif basked for a moment- both in her Mother’s delight and the sensation of finally shutting up the man who put his voice into her every waking moment when she was a girl. Falk spat blood at her face- And Elisif just wiped it off. <<>><<>><<>><<>><<>> When Elisif left Solitude, it was to a great clamor of noise. The city was a ghost town. There was no one but the imperial guard and the army. Everyone was searching the buildings. There was no resource to be found. There were no children. Elisif had emptied the jail cells and put in them both Thanes and Falk, mouth healed by her court mage but tongue still missing. Elisif stayed around and listened to make sure the Emperor’s visit would be continuing as scheduled, which she was happy to find it was. The Emperor was coming, and Tullius had not told him how badly things were being held together in Skyrim. All of Castle Dour was in a panic, and the Blue Palace was fortified. Elisif left Solitude in secret again, but she did not leave it ashamed. Her final act was to take the body of Bearclaw, who had watched and done nothing as Elisif was starved, and later imprisoned, and performed the Sacrament- with a few different touches. The Blue Palace would not exist to any who wished harm upon its residence- a hold until a member of the Dark Brotherhood came to speak to them. It would not hold for long, but it would give the citizens and guards time to make fortifications and plans. It was Elisif’s final act as High Queen and her first attempt at ritual as Listener.<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>> She got to the Sanctuary, ready to explain her actions if needed. Instead, she came home to see Gabriella anxiously standing by the doorway- or anxious as Gabriella ever looked. She didn’t say a word as she led Elisif into the main section of the Sanctuary to see Arentino and Babette tending to a wounded Vezeera. Elisif could see the muscle of his arm laid bare. There was a chunk missing from his tail. “What happened?” Elisif asked, breaking the silence. She never saw so many people look so startled. Nor so guilty- all except Vezeera- who just seemed to be hurt. “It was Cicero.” Astrid said, eventually- into the silence Elisif had created. “Cicero?” Elisif asked, shock not stopping the whirlwind of thoughts going through her mind. If Cicero was going to be violent, he would have done it long before now. “He attacked me,” Astrid said. She looked scared and uncertain. Elisif wanted to comfort her, but it seemed the rest of the sanctuary was caring for her. “Vezeera stopped him but got hurt.” “Why did he attack you?” Elisif asked. The Night Mother seemed very still in her mind, like a cat waiting for a mouse. Elisif wanted to question her, but her eyes were fixed on Astrid. “There was no reason.” Astrid started. Elisif just stared at her. She had never known Astrid to outright lie to her. She hadn’t expected that Astrid would be so bad at it. “I may have said some rather,” Astrid looked to the side, then Astrid stopped and stared her straight in the eye. “unnecessary things about the Night Mother.” Elisif said nothing, mentally pleading with the Night Mother to let this go. Astrid took it as a sign of acceptance. “It’s all so ridiculous, this whole situation. The idea of a Keeper- you as a Listener. It’s madness.” Elisif took a deep breath in. “You need to follow Arnbjorn,” Astrid said, the subject changing suddenly. “You need to make sure he is all right. Take Shadowmere from the pond. Then you need to help him kill that jester.” Her voice was meant to be a command, but Elisif could hear the pleading underneath it. She wanted Elisif to choose her. She needed Elisif to choose her. Elisif could not possibly have felt colder than she did at that moment. The Night Mother crowed in victory in her head. Elisif glanced towards the coffin, the dark shadow against the stained-glass window- a halo of light around it. She wondered if she could destroy the Night Mother’s voice long enough to save Astrid the remaining years of her life. She wondered if she should even try. “He harmed a brother!” Astrid pointed out. Elisif wondered when Astrid had started feeling the need to explain her decisions to Elisif. Astrid offered explanations, a horse, her friendship. She touched Elisif’s face and pulled her close against her body. Elisif tried to keep her breathing even, feeling like a rat caught in a trap. Eventually, Astrid pushed her towards the exit. Elisif turned and walked away. She went up the stairs and out the door. She called the demon horse. The silence coming from the other members of the Brotherhood was as loud as the Legion when it had woken up to find Solitude gone. She knew where Cicero would be. She always knew where the keeper would be. She turned North.
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Elisif didn’t eat on the way North. She rode and rode until she couldn’t feel her backbone or how the wind touched her cheeks. The Night Mother was crowing in victory. Elisif could not listen to it- did not want to listen to it. It burned her to have the Night Mother so joyful over a betrayal. The tapping of drums seemed to drive to higher and higher tempos when she let her thoughts wander too far. Astrid had used up the last of the Night Mother’s mercy many years before. She had gained some time with her treatment of Elisif, but it was no longer feasible for Astrid to run the Dark Brotherhood. She was a tent, demanding to stay upright when a castle was built around her. She had been good shelter while there was nothing else, but now she was just impeding traffic. Astrid would fall, and there was nothing Elisif could do about it. Her only hope was to reach Arnbjorn before he killed Cicero. Elisif did not want another one of her brothers to die- she did not want to have to pick sides. But maybe, if she could get Astrid to take mercy on Cicero, the Night Mother would take mercy on Astrid. The Dawnstar sanctuary was almost unnoticed, but for the werewolf reclining by the door. Arnbjorn’s face was curled into a smile, false and self-deprecating, but Elisif could almost see the smoke coming from his skin, forge-hot with rage. He hadn’t killed Cicero and was wroth with the fact. Elisif stayed silent as she gave him a healing potion and put him on Shadowmere to ride back to the Falkreath Sanctuary. He spoke to her before he left, but she couldn’t say she heard anything outside the deep tones of his voice. She didn’t speak to the door until all Elisif could hear was the distant sounds of dragons and the ever-present sound of the sea. Elisif entered the Sanctuary, prepared to shout for Cicero when something stayed her tongue. Silence clawed at her throat, and something pressed down on her tongue. Saliva welled, and Elisif wished to spit out whatever was in her mouth, but blue shadows were creeping about the sanctuary. Elisif stood straight and walked towards one. Having the Nightmother’s authority had given her a false sense of security. The last little bit of rope hung her. The ghost attacked her with twin swords, and Elisif could barely keep up with the spinning blades. She felt a line of fire down her side, then across her cheek, parallel to other scars. She brought out her daggers and stabbed them under the chin, hoping for the best- and she was pleasantly surprised to find that it also killed ghosts. The sensation was like pulling a limb from mud. “You can not kill what is already dead.” The ghost whispered as it slowly disappeared. But I can. The Nightmother hissed. Cicero’s voice echoed in the chambers as Elisif spotted a trail of blood. The splatters seemed to flow together until Elisif saw red and brown footsteps. She followed it down and around the sanctuary. “Listener! I knew you would come! Astrid sent the best to defeat the best! Astrid knew her stupid wolf couldn’t slay sly Cicero!” Elisif tried to respond once again, but her jaw was clenched too tightly. Saliva and blood flowed out of sealed lips. Elisif put an arrow through a ghost. The Night Mother was very, very angry. The ghost seemed to smile as it passed into the air. “Oh, but this isn’t at all what the Mother would want!” Cicero wailed. His voice vibrated off the walls, echoed by the Mother’s shrill shrieks of vengeance as the ghosts continued to attack her Listener. Each died with a smile or a laugh. “You kill the Keeper, or I kill the Listener? Now that is madness!” Cicero said, his voice wet and panting- trying to breathe through a wound. Elisif avoided the trap set over the bridge, sending arrow after arrow at the ghost, sending arrow after arrow at her. Blood trickled down her chin. Cicero gave another hysterical giggle. “Ouch Ouch, Pointy! Pointy! My home is well-defended! I have always been a stickler for details!” Elisif gave a huff of a laugh. It hurt. Tears started to gather in her eyes. “Get it? Stick-ler?” Cicero cackled. “Oh I slay me!” Elisif took a moment to break into hysterics. She couldn’t open her mouth, but she snorted in laughter until she was face down on the floor. Her sides ached, and her mind seemed disconnected from her body. Cicero's puns would have broken her if she had not already broken so many times before. Elisif had the sudden urge to bring Cicero and Nazir to the Bard’s College, all huddled away in the Blue Palace, and have them entertain with as many puns as they could get away with. The Night Mother’s howling got her up to her feet eventually, but she had attacks of giggles as she walked forward.Elisif kept walking, eventually getting to the area beneath the bridge. There were pools of oil settling underneath the bridge, and high above Elisif could see the smallest flickers of lanterns. The best thing to do would be to avoid the oil. Elisif was careful in her steps, but she heard the sound of the trap over the bridge go off again and broke into hysterics once more, allowing two ghosts to attack her, and for her to get a little closer to the oil than she wished. The Night Mother seethed inside her head. The tempo of drums and the melody was drawing screeching and shuddering claws across her brain, trying to chase out the laughter. Panting at the other side of the room, she could hear Cicero’s panting as well- a mirror of her own. The walls did not let any sound in the sanctuary go unheard. The Night Mother went silent as Elisif and Cicero breathed in tandem. Elisif leaned back against the wall- the back of her head cold and sweat pouring down her cold face. “You’re still alive?” Cicero asked hopefully. Elisif pulled out a dagger and banged the hilt twice against the wall. “Cicero respects the Listener’s abilities,” Cicero said gently. “Could you slow down a bit? I am not what I used to be.” Cicero sounded like the middle-aged assassin he was, and Elisif huffed a laugh, needing a break herself. She tried to wipe at her face, to remove the sweat and the blood, but she found she was only rubbing a blue substance over her face. Her face went stiff. The sound of the Night Mother grew louder, but her face prickled and tears were welling in her eyes again. Elisif banged her knife on the wall went she decided to move on. There was only one direction to go. The main room had a long ice tunnel, where she shivered and clutched her bow close. The Dawnstar Sanctuary seemed small and cold to her now. She didn’t want to use it. She wanted to bury it under ice. “You’ll like the forced addition, Elisif.” Cicero gave another wet hack. “There is a treat at the end of the tunnel.” Elisif still couldn’t speak. There was a treat. Elisif lost eight arrows- all poisoned- to the frost troll she hadn’t expected to see. Why are frost trolls the hardest? Elisif was fully crying, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her eyes couldn’t fully open, and her throat felt swollen. She could hear Cicero in the distance. “So I attacked her!” Cicero spat out. “Cicero has put up with Astrid’s leadership for two years. Cicero has done the blessings and stayed in the Sanctuary! All for the Night Mother- What is a fool to do when the Speaker of a Sanctuary slanders and mocks his mother?” The Night Mother agreed with him, which was rubbing on Elisif’s nerves. The Night Mother’s emotions were running high. She could not choose between pride and rage. Elisif’s own emotions were too far out of her reach to understand, and her tears and blood, sweat and saliva, and ectoplasm was frozen to her face. “Surely the Listener understands?” Cicero askes. I absolutely don’t. Elisif thought; the same time, the Night Mother said I do, my child. Cicero began rambling as Elisif moved through the coffins, and the Night Mother cursed each of the sanctuary ghosts that attacked Elisif. With the bow in her left hand, she curled up behind one of the chests to regain her breath. Mother what do you want me to do? Elisif thought. Do you want me to kill him? No. The Night Mother said. He..no. He should have brought the issue up with you- so you could deal with Astrid. Elisif sat there in stunned silence for a moment. Night Mother, have I- Elisif tried to gather her thoughts displeased you, in some way? No, of course not my child. You have done quite well. The Night Mother was very kind. Then, Elisif thought, why do you want me dead? Elisif, I wouldn’t let you die. Elisif banged her head on her knees. I wish you would. Elisif said spitefully. The situations do not need to be made worse with your conflict resolution ideas. The Night Mother laughed at her. Elisif went up the stairs, killing another ghost as Cicero talked about Vezeera and Arnbjorn and his injuries to them. That does have to be dealt with. The Night Mother said slowly. I am not content to allow my children to injury their siblings. What do you suggest, O Great Mother of Murderers? Elisif started giggling at her poke at the irony. The Night Mother ignored the joke. Elisif snorted to herself. She walked down the hall to echoing footsteps and the wet gasps of Cicero trying to speak. The door was closed. Elisif leaned her head against the door. I can’t kill him, Mother. Elisif said, feeling honest in a way that came out bone tired. I agree. This is what you will do- and you will do it silently. But the Night Mother let the pressure on Elisif’s tongue go. Elisif coughed up the blood and bile.Elisif walked into the room- a torture chamber- with her cowl up and her eyes shadowed by the hood. She didn’t say a word to Cicero, curled around his wound, as he pleaded for her to tell Astrid she had killed him. As he begged her to lie.He didn’t fight her as she hauled him up and attached him to the shackles hooked to the walls. She pressed his wrists into each cuff and watched as blood came from his side in two great bursts.He couldn’t even whimper, but his chest gave stuttered movements.Elisif cast her first healing spell. It was complicated and wildly out of her understanding, but it was better than being used to kill.Cicero stretched out his limbs, finding his feet. Elisif left him in the room, closing the door behind her, as she made her way up through the Sanctuary- out the door.Arnbjorn was gone. Elisif picked some food from the saddle bags, and a healing potion, before walking back into the Sanctuary.There was desperate sobbing. Elisif tried not to rush down- aware that angering the Night Mother at this point was unwise. She didn’t say anything as she took bits of cheese and fed them to Cicero, letting his mouth open and close as tears streamed down his eyes. He took the bites of food from her fingers as the hiccupping sobs slowed and stopped.Once Cicero was steady on his feet, Elisif took one of her daggers and slit the back of Cicero’s shirt down the middle.“What is the Listener doing?” Cicero asked. Elisif didn’t say anything. She went to the chest in the corner of the room and found the large branding iron. It had the image that sat on the front of the doors of both sanctuaries.She sat it in the fire. It was meant to be used for this- but the survivors of the brand were not supposed to exit the chamber.Elisif would make sure Cicero could leave the Sanctuary on his own two feet, and he would hopefully never return to haunt it, like those ghosts who smiled when they were finally free.Cicero begged Elisif to talk to him through each of the three brandings. The iron was a cold that burned through her gloves, but the iron pressed so easily into flesh. She didn’t speak as she cleaned the wounds and let him down. The smell of blood couldn’t overwhelm the smell, but Elisif didn’t particularly mind the smell anymore. She didn’t speak as she dragged him outside, and he broke into a thousand pieces.It was not until she pressed his back into the snow and held a knife to his throat that she spoke to him. She pulled down her hood and cowl and let Cicero see her face, covered in death and silence.His eyes went wide, and his pupils dilated. His hands reached up and caught her upper arms, the beginnings of an embrace.“One brand for each brother and sister you tried to murder,” Elisif said.Cicero threw his arms around Elisif- ignoring the knife in her hands, causing her to drop the knife quickly. “Elisif was never going to kill me, was she?” Cicero asked, slightly abashed. “Cicero does appreciate that,” Cicero said sincerely. “He will kill the betrayer, Astrid. “ Elisif raised an eyebrow at Cicero. “Elisif can not give me that look; Cicero taught her that look.” “I have a job for you, if you are interested. If you can still wield a dagger and bow, that is.” Elisif said as Cicero worked himself up and down into a frenzy. “What kind of job?” Cicero asked. His fingers twitched towards the wound in his side- or where the wound was. He had been betrayed far to many times to trust Elisif, which was a pity. “I need you to go to Solitude.” Elisif said. “I need you to go to the Blue Palace, and I need you to offer yourself up to the person in charge. You need to tell them Elisif sent you. Trace the lines of my scars on your face, aside from this new one, so they know you know me.” Cicero nodded. “Then I need you to plan to kill General Tullius when the emperor is dead and gone,” Elisif said. “And I need the body afterward.”
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Elisif came back, smelling of burnt skin and blood. Her lips were bloodless and her face seemed to be scrubbed clean, though her ears shone blue. She regained the nervous stillness she had when she first came to them, but she spoke with a smile and a confidence of someone who had once been called “Queen”. Astrid cried in relief. Arnbjorn said Elisif had looked mad and been quiet as death when she entered the Dawnstar Sanctuary. Her husband hadn’t felt it was worth his life to check the Listener’s work, nor did he think she would want his help with whatever she was going to do with the body. Nazir had asked when Elisif had settled down, but Elisif just said the body would wash up eventually. She hadn’t wanted it in the Sanctuary. Astrid had received news from Solitude after Elisif had left. Like all secrets, the Empire’s secret had flown like bird’s wings through every soldier’s mouth in Skyrim. Solitude had become a ghost town overnight- with Falk Firebeard tongueless, dumped in Castle Dour. Every citizen was gone- and every Imperial soldier stayed away from the Blue Palace. Whatever Elisif had done, she had gotten her revenge and done her job. It made Astrid nervous. Elisif made Astrid nervous. She was so damn quiet. She didn’t say a word, just listened as you talked. You didn’t know what kind of judgment she was making. The only assurance Astrid had was that Elisif was completely vulnerable to a sweet touch or a kind word. Astrid did not wonder if Elisif loved her when her mouth opened and her eyes shone with a palm stroke against a shoulder. Arnbjorn had often said Astrid didn’t look like she got as much pleasure from his mouth on her cunt as when Elisif got a kiss on the cheek. The personality- the young bride told she was to lead a nation- from the beginning had worn away. Elisif could not be scared; she could not be bullied. Slowly, ever so slowly, Astrid’s Sanctuary began to look to Elisif for the proper way to handle day-to-day life. Astrid thought she might have been able to hold the Sanctuary when Elisif had the break from reality, except she had completed three jobs under a time limit with a young apprentice in her shadow- an apprentice who was thriving in the Sanctuary. Two of the past three had nervous breakdowns and went to drink and skooma. One committed suicide by betrayal. Nazir liked her, too. Astrid could understand it, of course. Elisif had a certain appeal. She was pretty, there was no question. The scars tempered the earnest expression she always wore. She went above and beyond duty and committed herself to every friendship. The problem was that if Astrid wanted to kill Elisif, Nazir would argue against it. Nazir had a fire in him that wasn’t easy to stoke- and Elisif made it burn. Cicero could have been a better politician. He got on most of the Sanctuary’s nerves- but he was the Keeper. No one in the Sanctuary was too young to remember how the Dark Brotherhood used to be. Elisif wouldn’t correct Cicero- Cicero wouldn’t go against Elisif. Their synergy was enough to give Astrid pause when disagreeing with each of them. Astrid could have handled it if Nazir was with her. Astrid wasn’t sure Nazir was with her. Astrid’s had meant to give Elisif her own Sanctuary. She had not meant to arrange it any other way, but when talking to Vezeera- she was hopeful. She allowed her feelings to take a course edge, and Cicero fell for the bait. It was a last-minute decision- and a desperate one. Cicero was faster than her, angrier than her, and had an insanity that a decade couldn’t crack. Astrid was halfway certain she would have been dead if Vezeera had been a tad slower- but he had taken the cut for her. She was grateful to be assured of her Sanctuary’s loyalty. But when she sent Elisif out, she was not expecting Nazir’s cold questions. She wasn’t expecting Babette’s worried eyes or how Gabriella slightly mocked her technique at avoiding madmen. Even Vezeera seemed discontent- he had the boy take him to the pool instead of brushing off the injury. Later that night, in her room, she had Nazir’s hand around her throat as she held her knife to his dick. He had made clear that if she wished to give the Listener the job of Silencer, she would have to do so from beyond the grave. “There will be no more tests, Astrid.” Nazir’s nails dug into her throat, and Astrid remembered the reason Nazir was the Silencer in the first place. “I follow you, Elisif follows you- I wouldn’t want you to give the Sanctuary reason to regret that.” He shifted his leg, so the dagger was pressed into his artery instead of his dick. “The Keeper, madman that he was, was a bit of hope- his blessings were enough to get us through some difficult jobs. He had no real power over the Sanctuary. Your-” Nazir smirked “mechanisms did you more harm than good on the political front. You better hope that Elisif is as bad at politics here as she was in Solitude.” They both knew she was better. Her earnestness had half of her hold in love with her. She had just lacked the momentum to push Firebeard from his position. That earnest desire to do well at what she did, coupled with the practical knowledge she now possessed made her extremely dangerous. Her confidence was the only thing lacking- and it was growing steadily under their feet like the mushrooms in the Sanctuary. Earlier, Arnbjorn had returned with his report, but like a good husband he gave it to her in private. “You don’t think she will let him live?” Astrid asked. She rubbed a healing potion into the many scars on his side. “No,” Arnbjorn said. “Heartrate was steady- and she proved she will kill her friends for you, Astrid. If she were going to save him, she would have killed me.” He took her palm and kissed it- gently and reverently. Astrid believed him and believed Elisif when she came back. There was no way for Astrid not to believe her- not with the way her eyes were wide and haunted, lips bloodless. The only surprise was when she gripped Astrid’s arm, dirty hand dark with soot and putting grey marks on Astrid’s sleeve. “The Night Mother is angry,” Elisif whispered to her. “I was able to soothe her with Cicero, but I don’t know how to pardon you.” “I don’t need a pardon-” Astrid stopped mid-sentence. Elisif’s eyes were wide and scared. She looked like she was at the edge of bearable weight. “Don’t worry,” Astrid said. “I’ll go sit vigil. I’ll choose another Keeper, soon. All will be well.” Elisif tried to smile at her, but it faltered. Astrid grabbed her wrist and pried her hand from her sleeve- her arm already feeling bruised. “Everything will be okay, Elisif,” Astrid said soothingly, watching the members of her Sanctuary watch her with paranoid eyes. “I’ll make sure of it.”
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Thank you all for coming with me to the end! I know things left off at an interesting time, but Elisif has just chosen to save her people with the help of Cicero. This is where her particular arc ended. The rest of the story required multiple points of view that needed further context.Which you are going to get.If you subscribed to this story, the next one up will be Grieve at the Mercy, which has us backtrack and see what Tyre is doing. It will be up in the same series- and will hopefully have fewer technical errors. About 24k is done of the first draft.