Victim of Happenstance: A Dark Brotherhood Tale
The wooden carriage lurched heavily to one side as it hit another rut in the road causing Ontalo Sestiant to curse loudly and shoot a glaring look at the driver.
“Sorry bout that.” The driver muttered, glancing nervously back at the severe looking Imperial seated behind him.
Ontalo stared at him for another second before looking back over the landscape, the shadows quickly lengthening as they neared sunset. Professional habit made his eyes dart from dark space to dark space, looking for anywhere someone could be hiding. His ears picked up the slow, constant creak from the carriage listening for any sign that the carriage could be damaged or sabotaged. Every possible scenario played out in his mind as he continually planned to combat them. It was the same zen-like trance that he slipped into every time he was on a mission, and it was the reason he was still alive. Not that he expected anything, he was the hunter, not the hunted. But Ontalo was nothing if not prepared.
“So… uh… this makes us even, eh?” The words came tumbling out of the driver.
“That depends on you getting me to the embassy.” Ontalo answered, never averting his eyes from the surrounding area.
The reins snapped in answer and the horse quickened its pace. “We’ll be there soon.”
“It’ll also depend on how many more potholes you run us through on the way.” Ontalo commented with a scowl. He knew the man was terrified, but when you owed a favor to a member of the Dark Brotherhood, you had every right to be.
Any further comments were cut short as the carriage rounded a bend and the Thalmor Embassy loomed into view up the hill.
As the carriage steadily creaked forward, a mix of people came into view waiting outside of the embassy gate. Nords, Imperials, Bretons, Redguards, and even a Khajiit or two all made up the diverse crowd, all wealthy individuals, all wearing their finest attire, and all there to celebrate First Emissary Elenwen’s niece’s birthday. Most of the racially prejudiced Thalmor would openly scowl at the mix of races assembled for such a personal affair. But by all accounts, the First Emissary’s young niece enjoyed the party lifestyle as well as having more exotic tastes. Ontalo knew that this was a big reason that Astrid had chosen him for this particular assassination. He was a good looking Imperial who could play the charismatic romantic suitor when the need arises. That was, in fact, his plan entering this evening, to get close to the young Altmer and dispatch her while they were alone.
While he didn’t know why someone had contracted the Dark Brotherhood to kill the niece of the First Emissary, he rarely knew the reasons behind his assassinations, and that never bothered him or the Dark Brotherhood. But what was a concern was openly declaring war on the Thalmor in Skyrim. A quiet assassination rumored to be carried out by the Dark Brotherhood, inside of the Thalmor Embassy’s own gates was a huge black eye to the Thalmor and a huge boost in the mystic and prestige surrounding the Dark Brotherhood. On the other hand, a sloppy kill openly carried out by the Dark Brotherhood would most definitely see the Thalmor seeking retribution in any and every way possible.
The carriage pulled up to the group and slowly came to a stop. Ontalo gracefully stepped off of the carriage and flashed a smile to no one in particular.
“Thank you my good sir.” Ontalo announced loudly, putting a small pouch of coins into the driver’s hand.
The driver quickly pocketed the money and snapped his reins, the relief to be rid of the assassin obvious on his face. Ontalo’s smile never wavered as he strode confidently through the crowd and up to the Thalmor guard at the gate. The Altmer guard stood tall and intimidating in immaculate golden elven armor, the grand image only ruined by the look of utter disdain on the elf’s pointed face.
“Invitation.” The guard stated rather than asked.
“Ahh... yes it’s here somewhere.” Ontalo offered while patting at his fine, fur-lined robes, before finally reaching inside his breast pocket and producing the elegant, folded parchment.
The guard took the invitation and opened it with a bored expression.
Ontalo could see the guards eyes roving over the contents and his gut did an involuntary flip. I hope Vex didn’t take my money and skimp on the work. He’d worked with the Thieves Guild several times before, but it was never good practice to trust a person who stole for a living. Of course the Thieves Guild, like the Dark Brotherhood, had to be sure to deliver on their paid jobs or else their entire organization suffered. But Ontalo hated relying on other people outside of the brotherhood for anything, especially when it could put himself in danger.
“Go on in.” The guard rolled his eyes and announced dryly.
Ontalo smiled as he stuffed the invitation back into his breast pocket. “I do hope they let you come inside and enjoy the festivities, at least to get out of the cold for a while.”
The guard gave a scoff in answer, and looked back over the crowd.
I may kill you on the way out, I’ll even do it for free.
The door opened to the entrance hall of the Embassy and the contrast between the cold, darkening outside and the warm inside was startling. The large room was filled with sights and sounds that could be disorienting but Ontalo scanned his new surroundings with an expert eye. The number of guards, exits, and windows were all counted. While it was impossible to count the number of guests, he took a quick note of which ones would be able bodied fighters versus how many would panic. He quickly noted the most likely direction that reinforcements would come from if called. All of this took no longer than a few seconds as he walked over to the crowded bar and found an empty space to stand. A fire crackled merrily in the huge opulent fireplace along one wall, while a bard stood aside and sang a jaunty tune. The party goers on the inside were as diverse as the crowd had been outside, with the exception being that most of Skyrim’s notable elite were in attendance. Maven Black-Briar, General Tulluis, and even Jarl Balgruuf were in attendance milling about with drinks in their hands. Finally, on the far side of the room, Ontalo spotted Ciraana Adal, his target. Wearing a midnight blue dress embroidered with gold that clung tightly to her curves, she stood out from everyone else in the room, which he was sure was on purpose. She really was a beautiful woman. The flickering fire light from the wall sconces seemed to dance on her white gold hair that fell just below her shoulders. The sleeves from her dress hugged her thin arms all the way to her delicate hands, and her almond shaped eyes were bright with mischief.
“Can I get you anything sir?”
The question brought Ontalo out of his thoughts as he looked over to the bartender standing in front of him.
“Not yet, thanks.”
Here we go, it’s showtime. Ontalo took a deep breath and walked confidently through the crowd. Ciraana had just given a small, polite laugh to the Khajiit standing next to her when Ontalo stepped close. Both turned to greet him.
“Lady Ciraana, may I introduce myself, Wulfien Sirale of Cyrodiil.” Ontalo gave a small bow.
Ciraana looked him over and gave a smile. “Welcome Wulfien Sirale of Cyrodiil, what brings you to Skyrim and my party?” She asked with a laugh.
Oh great, too formal. Ontalo groaned inwardly, trying not to let his disappointment show.
“Work I’m afraid. I own a rather nice sized meadery back home and came to see about the acquisition of the upstart Honningbrew Meadery. But when I heard about a party for the Lovely Ciraana Adal, I had to pull some strings to get an invite.” Ontalo finished with his most dazzling smile.
“Honningbrew? I’m afraid I’ve only had Black-Briar myself.” Ciraana responded, already turning back towards the Khajiit.
Of course! Maven Black-Briar is even here. What is wrong with you? Ontalo went to recover when a tall Nord stepped up next to him. A full head taller than Ontalo, the Nord wasn’t as bulky as most other Nords, instead he was lean, wearing a more form fitting tunic that accentuated his lithe figure. His long blonde-brown hair was pulled back into a tail that made it easier to see his chiseled jawline and good-looks.
“Happy Birthday to the most beautiful lady in the room.” He announced smoothly, while looking straight into Ciraana’s eyes, grabbing one of her slender hands in his own, and bringing it up to give it a light kiss.
The effect was immediate. A visible blush reached her cheeks as she gave a genuine smile to the new stranger.
“And who might you be?” Ciraana asked coyly, as her body shifted to face him fully, effectively cutting Ontalo out of the circle.
Ontalo didn’t even hear the stranger's response as his ears began to ring from the blood rushing to his face in anger. It wasn’t often that he failed so spectacularly at wooing a target. I could have salvaged that if not for that overgrown manchild. Knowing his first impression was ruined, he turned and stalked, sulkily over to the side of the room.
His mood continued to worsen over the next several minutes as Ciraana and the Nord hit it off spectacularly. I could kill him if he goes to the bathroom and then re-engage. The thought flickered through his mind but he dismissed it just as quickly. Unnecessary bodies greatly increased the risk of failure, especially in such a busy and crowded place as this. No, what's really bothering you is that your pride is hurt. But that’s no excuse to get sloppy and lose focus. Ontalo shook his head and took a breath to calm himself. Romancing the target to get her alone isn’t going to work now. What’s our next best option?
“..poison?”
Startled, Ontalo looked around at who had spoken near him.
“What?” Ontalo asked as he looked to the person staring at him.
“I said, ‘pick your poison?’” A confused waiter answered while holding out a tray full of a variety of liquors.
“Oh… No.” Ontalo replied.
The waiter started to move on.
“Actually wait, I’ll take three Black-Briar meads.” Ontalo stated after a thought.
The waiter sighed, looking harried. “I have one here, allow me to go get the other two.”
The watier set a goblet full of the dark mead down on the small table next to him and took off towards the bar. As soon as his back was turned Ontalo reached into another pocket inside his robes and retrieved a small black vial. Making sure that no one was watching, he poured the clear liquid into the mead and quickly put the vial back into his robes. The poison was designed by none other than Babette, the brotherhood’s own resident master alchemist. What Ontalo personally appreciated about it most, was it’s slow onset followed by a brutal and quick death. This gave him ample time to make an exit before the show really got started and guards locked down the area.
“Here you are sir.” The waiter set down the two other goblets and moved on.
Careful to keep an eye on which one had the poison, Ontalo put on another smile and walked over to where Ciraana and the Nord stood.
“... and if she hadn’t been as old as a draugr I might have taken her up on it!” The Nord finished.
“You are terrible!” Ciraana laughed in delight, while brushing his arm with her hand.
Ontalo waited patiently for the laughter to subside before clearing his throat.
“Ciraana on your suggestion I tried the Black-Briar mead and I must say I’m sold. I love it so much I thought I’d bring you and your friend one over in appreciation.”
Ontalo handed over the poisoned goblet to Ciraana before she could reject his offer and then handed a mead to the Nord.
“To your good health on your birthday!” Ontalo said, while raising his goblet.
“Here, here!” The Nord chimed in.
Ciraana smiled and raised her goblet. The drink was almost to her lips when the Nord cursed loudly and gave a lurch into Ciraana sending her drink and his to the floor.
NO! Ontalo inwardly cursed as he watched the poisoned mead seep into the cracks of the marble floor.
The Nord recovered quickly and grabbed onto Ciraana with both of his hands to steady her as she had begun to stumble.
“I’m so sorry my dear. It’s so crowded in here and someone ran right into me.” He explained.
Looking all too pleased to be in the Nord’s hands, Ciraana gave a mischievous smile. “It is getting rather stuffy in here. Would you like to take a walk in the fresh air?”
The Nord offered her his arm with a winning smile. “I’d love to.”
Ontalo stood rooted to the spot with his mouth agape, watching the quickly drying liquid on the floor. He wasn’t even aware when the same waiter from before appeared at his elbow.
“So more mead then?” He asked with a sigh.
The waiter’s bored look withered under the glare that Ontalo gave him. Can nothing go right?!
“I need some air. Which door will lead me outside the quickest?” Ontalo asked icely.
Unnerved by the look, the waiter raised a shocked hand in answer that pointed to the nearby door.
Ontalo was through the door so quickly that the freezing air was a rude awakening. It took him a minute to control his breathing and regain his composure, but after a minute of taking in the cold mountain air, he slipped into the familiar predator mode that he was accustomed to. The courtyard of the Thalmor Embassy was a nice sized walled area, comprised of only a few buildings. Snow drifted in on the wind and covered the roof tops.
A few party goers stood near the door he had just exited, but Ciraana and the Nord were not among them. Walking slowly along the wall, he scanned the surrounding area for any evidence of the couple. As soon as he rounded the corner, he slipped in the shadows and began his hunt in earnest.
Every Dark Brotherhood assassin was schooled in the art of concealment, Ontalo, however, excelled in it. Remaining hidden was a talent that he continually worked on, and only recently started using his meager magic skills to aid him. He’d been amazed when he’d seen another brotherhood assassin use illusion magic to turn himself invisible. It wasn’t perfect of course, he wouldn’t be able to walk into a well lit area and the light distortion around him go unnoticed, but in the shadows he’d become shadow himself. But to his disappointment, those spells took years to train, and even longer to master. He instead settled for learning how to use magic to muffle the sounds he made while sneaking.
Ontalo muttered the spell and immediately stalked the courtyard, careful to stay in the shadows. Like outfront, Thalmor guards could be seen standing near doors and walking routes around the courtyard. Ontalo stepped quickly into a narrow alley between the building and the wall just in time as a pair of guards made their way toward him. Soon words began to reach his ears on the night wind.
“... it’s disgraceful! A Nord? Has she no shame?” The nearest guard whispered to the other.
So you’ve seen my quarry. Ontalo strained his ears to hear more.
“Elenwen knows it’s nothing more than a phase she’s going through.” The other responded.
“That doesn’t make it any less disgusting!” The first guard snapped.
“I agree with you but…” The rest of the comment was carried away on the wind as the guards had passed by Ontalo and moved further away.
So they’re over that direction. Ontalo’s eyes looked in the direction from which the guards had come. Along the wall in front of him, and between him and his destination, stood a small building that was probably no more than a shed. However, a guard stood at the door and there was no way around the building without being seen. Eye’s searching for any way past the sentry, Ontalo noticed several boxes and barrels piled beside the shed nearest him. Without wasting any time, Ontalo moved silently through the open space and climbed quickly onto the boxes. Standing on his tiptoes, the roof’s eave was barely out of his reach. Ontalo leaped, but the box directly under him gave way to his weight, luckily his outstretched hands clasped onto the roof just as the boxes below tumbled to the ground with a loud crash.
“Who’s there?!” Shouted the guard at the front of the shed.
Ontalo pulled with all of his might, grasping at anything and everything, he pulled himself up onto the roof and had just pulled his leg out of view when the guard rounded the corner with sword held ready.
Ontalo lay as flat as possible on the roof, not moving a muscle and barely daring to breathe. Below him, he could hear the guard walking and boxes being kicked aside. What was surely only seconds, seemed like hours as he waited for the guard to move on.
“Blasted skeevers.” He finally heard the guard mutter. Followed by footsteps leading back to the front of the shed.
Ontalo exhaled the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding and after a second, rolled onto his stomach. Crawling silently to the opposite edge of the roof, Ontalo’s eyes lit up as he finally spotted Ciraana and her Nord companion walking arm in arm slowly toward a secluded hedgerow in the corner of the courtyard.
That’ll do nicely. A dark, quiet area away from the guards. Finally something goes my way.
Ontalo shifted his feet over the edge of the roof and quickly, but silently, lowered himself to where he was only a few feet from the ground. Dropping down without a sound, Ontalo crouched into the shadows along the wall and ran as fast as he dared to the secluded corner. His luck held as he settled down behind the hedges just as his target came closer. Reaching into his robes, Ontalo pulled out a dark ebony dagger that he’d used so many times before. As the pair crept unknowingly closer to their death, Ontalo began to plan his strike.
The Nord is the immediate threat. I’ll need to kill him first, but fast enough that Ciraana won’t have time to scream. If I can catch the Nord with his back to me, I’ll slit his throat and let the body fall while I cover her mouth as quickly as possible. Ontalo deepened his breathing, and narrowed his eyes as he watched the couple come closer. Almost there, just a few more feet and you’ll be out of the open. He couldn’t help but smile as he thought of killing the Nord. He wasn’t the target, but he’d unwittingly made this evening much harder than it was supposed to be. Suddenly the Nord stopped, pulling Ciraana into his chest.
“Ciraana.” He said her name while looking longingly into her eyes.
“Yes?” She answered breathlessly, with a look of want of her own.
“This evening has been amazing. Would I be acting too forward if I said I’d like a little more privacy with you than this courtyard can provide?” The Nord asked.
Ciraana exhaled and gave an involuntary shutter, but recovered quickly.
“What kind of lady do you think I am?” She asked with a coy smile.
“The most beautiful one I’ve ever laid eyes on.” The Nord answered.
“Right answer.” She smiled. “Follow me.”
With that, she took the Nord’s hand and led him in a beeline back towards the door to the party.
Ontalo watched the retreating figures make their way across the courtyard with his jaw dropped open in surprise. Never, in all of his years as an assassin, had circumstance set its will against him so many times in one mission. He wasn’t even angry anymore. A small laugh even escaped his mouth at the sheer stupidity of the entire evening. The couple had already disappeared through the door into the main hall and Ontalo still hadn’t moved a muscle. Had he lost favor with Sithis? Was the Nord a favorite of Azura and therefore protected by her? Was Sheogorath just dying with laughter at the unexpected events of the evening? At this point, it seemed like something more than luck had to be against him. He was still deep in thought when a doorway on a balcony on the second floor of the Embassy illuminated and a pair of silhouettes appeared. Ontalo watched as the couple embraced in what was certainly a passionate kiss, then retreated further into the room. Ontalo set his jaw and narrowed his eyes.
The night isn’t over yet.
Dancing through the shadows seemed much easier this time around. The guards were either on the other side of the courtyard or hardly paying attention. When he reached the wall under the balcony he found an ivy covered lattice that reached all the way to the second floor. It may as well have been a ladder. The climb was quick and he vaulted the balcony ledge with ease, then even more luck showed as the door leading into the room stood ajar. Ontalo smiled and looked up to the sky.
Thank you Sithis.
Ontalo slid through the door without a sound. The flickering light of a candle was the only light in the room and it sat on the bedside table casting light on the form of Ciraana laying on the bed under a sheet. The sound of water splashing in a bowl off in a side room told him that the Nord was probably in the wash. Acting quickly to capitalize on his good fortunes, Ontalo drew his dagger once more and strode across the room to the prone figure on the bed. As he approached, he sensed that something was off. Drawing near to his target, he noticed that Ciraana lay unmoving, staring blindly at the ceiling above.
“What the…” Ontalo muttered.
He cast the sheet aside and his jaw dropped yet again. Ciraana laid naked on the bed, with a small incision just below her ribs that flowed with crimson blood that stained that bed around her. Ontalo was marveling at the precision of the wound when he felt a sharp pain in his left arm, just below the armpit.
“Ahh!” Ontalo jumped back in surprise , brandishing the dagger.
“You’re going to want to put pressure on that, the brachial artery pumps a lot of blood, you’ll be unconscious in 15 seconds and dead within 90 seconds unless you do.” The Nord stood a few steps back from Ontalo wiping the blood from a long thin dagger.
As if on cue, Ontalo began to feel lightheaded. He dropped the dagger to the floor and grabbed his arm as tightly as he could.
The Nord nonchalantly walked over to a chair along the wall and tipped it over onto the floor.
“You aren’t half bad you know.” He stated. “I actually thought the Khajiit may have been the assassin. That is until you brought us goblets full of poison.”
The Nord smiled at the look of shock on Ontalo’s face. “Don’t feel bad though, not many people would have noticed. But I know Babette’s handiwork, she uses too much Nightshade for my liking, and I can always smell it. However your illusion magic needs work, I heard through your muffle spell as you ran to beat us to the hedges earlier.”
Ontalo finally broke his stupor at the mention of Babette.
“Who are you? How do you know Babette?” He asked through gritted teeth.
The Nord picked up a platter full of fruit and dumped them unceremoniously on the floor, then let the platter fall alongside. Finally, he met Ontalo’s eyes with an icy glare.
“So Astrid doesn’t even speak of me? So much for... family.” The Nord spat the last word.
“Branen Dark-Song.” He continued. “And I was much like you at one time. A dedicated member of the Dark Brotherhood. A dedicated student to the craft. Dedicated to Astrid’s ideal of family. That is, until she stabbed me in the back. Literally I might add.”
Ontalo’s head began to swim as more blood pumped through his fingers.
“Bullshit.” He muttered through clenched teeth.
“But, that’s neither here nor there.” Branen shrugged as he tipped an end table onto its side.
Ontalo sank slowly down to his knees.
“So why then? Why kill the Altmer? To show up the Dark Brotherhood?” Ontalo asked.
Branen looked over at the beautiful Altmer laying in a pool of blood on the bed.
“There’s a shortage of perfect breasts in the world, you know? It’s a shame I had to ruin hers.” He lamented.
“No I set the contract on poor Ciraana, she was a victim of happenstance. My real target was you. Or whoever Astrid sent to do the deed. You see, when you die of a botched assassination attempt in the Thalmor Embassy of all places. It’ll be a huge blow to the brotherhood, not to mention they’ll have the Thalmor breathing down their necks from now on.” Branen answered.
“All because of a… grudge with Astrid? Why not go after her…. directly?” Talking was starting to get harder for Ontalo.
Branen turned a wall sconce askew and when he turned back to Ontalo, the icy glare had returned. He kneeled down so that he was face to face with Ontalo.
“Oh I’ll kill Astrid. But not before I take everything that she holds dear away from her. You are the first domino to fall, but be assured that you will not be the last. I want her to feel the noose tighten before it snaps her neck.” He spat.
Branen stood and looked around at the mess he’d made in the room.
“I think that’ll do.” He muttered.
Ontalo watched through darkening sight, as Branen walked over to the door and threw it open with a BANG!
“HELP! HELP! ASSASSIN! MURDER!”
The yells kept getting quieter and quieter even though Brenan still stood slumped against the doorframe. The last thing Ontalo Setiant ever heard was the sound of pounding boots headed his way.
Note: This story popped into my head and I really liked the idea. It was only ever supposed to be a one-off, but I realize that it implies a much bigger story. I would be interested to know if anyone wants to read more about Branen and his history/future with Astrid and the Dark Brotherhood.
As always, any comments you may have and/or constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated.
