Skyrim FanFiction, Skyrim Erotica, and More
The others had been holding out on me.
I knew that they hadn’t respected me—taken me for some upjumped thief and whore who’d be dead in a moon’s turn—but I could never have imagined the power they’d been keeping to themselves.
Not until they started to share it with me.
Alain Dufont’s assassination finally got them to take me seriously. Word trickled back to the sanctuary before I did of the death I’d wrought on his mountain hideout. His band of thieves and murderers were running scared, and telling tales of a black-haired killer on their trail.
But it was Nilsine Shatter-Shields’s death that put them over the edge—really convinced Astrid and the others that I was one of them. I snuck into Windhelm under cover of darkness and decapitated that bitch in her bed. Left her head on a spike in front of the Candlehearth Hall for everyone to see come morning.
“You reek of blood,” Nazir said when I returned seven days later (I had taken a detour to see a certain alchemist about a little side project of mine).
The rest passed out congratulations as well. All of them agreed that it was a beautiful piece of killing. Veezara even asked me how I’d managed to sneak into Windhelm without being seen—it being such an old, impregnable city.
That trick I kept to myself. Girl has to have her secrets.
But it was Arnbjorn’s words that sealed the deal. He came to me again after the others had gone back to their duties. I could smell his wild animal odor behind me, see his big shadow in the candlelight of my small chamber.
“How’s the leg?” he asked. I turned around and drank him in with my eyes.
“A little stiff,” I admitted. “But better every day.”
He nodded gravely. “I had been worried it wasn’t quite healed.”
“Aw, you were thinking about me?” I knew this was a dangerous road. I just didn’t care.
He considered me. Looking me up and down with those blue eyes.
“You’re one of us now,” he said. “A true member of the Brotherhood.”
I smiled. The first smile in months that wasn’t a painted mask of deceit. It felt good.
“I’m happy,” I said softly.
He fidgeted a bit in the doorway, then spoke. “I brought this for you,” he said, showing me a book he’d been holding behind his back.
“A bedtime story?”
“A spellbook. A valuable one. You won’t be able to use it yet, but I told Festus Krex that it was time for him to take you under his wing. Get some rest. He’ll be waiting for you in the morning.”
He crossed the room and handed me the book. I took it from him and looked at the cover.
“Arnbjorn…” I started to say.
“I’ve had it for a long time,” he interrupted quickly, already moving towards the door. “I’m not much for spells myself. The hammer is all I’ve ever needed.” He smiled sheepishly. “But you. I am thinking your blood has been calling for the dark arts for quite some time. It’s time for you to answer.”
The next morning, my new life began.
I met Festus Krex at dawn in the common room, the alchemy laboratory was already bubbling with one of his concoctions.
“Tell me, Narova,” he asked without turning around. “What do you know of Illusion?”
“I know it can be tricky to put your finger on.”
“Funny. And Alteration?”
I shrugged. “Never could see the point in it. Can’t kill anyone with a magic flashlight.”
“Hmmm. An interesting perspective.”
Then he disappeared.
I scanned the room. Turned around. Then turned around again. The room reeked of burning hair, but Festus was gone. Then I felt an icy jolt spreading down my spine, and I froze up stiffer then a cedar tree.
Hit the ground like one, too.
It felt like my veins had filled with ice. Nothing worked. Festus flipped me over like a log for the fire and smiled at me.
“Do you think something like that might prove useful given our vocation?”
I tried to nod, but nothing happened. Then Festus said a few words and I felt movement burning back into my body like a tall glass of Cyrodiil brandy. I struggled to my feet.
“Teach me that,” I said, gasping for air.
“You’re not ready,” he said quickly. “Not by a long shot. I just wanted to avoid wasted time on that smart mouth of yours when we spent the rest of the day practicing your mage light and your muffle.”
“The rest of the day?” I asked.
He smiled again, wider this time. “Oh yes. And all night. You, my dear, are my new apprentice. And I am going to teach you to become the stuff of nightmares.”
“Yes,” I said. “Good.”