Dark Waters

-vitrin’s pov-

Niruin used to tell me my eyes were so soft at times, he was taken by surprise when I swung a sword with such force, when I threw a punch with such bestiality, and when I brought flames, frost, or electricity to my fingertips so quickly. I mastered Destruction Magic at a young age so fast Vekel was astonished, and Niruin was so proud… Though he never wanted me to solely rely on spells to do my bidding, but he wanted me to master archery as he did. To be truthful it was never what I wanted, but I did anyways. I never let on to be very good at all, though Niruin had seen me hit a bull’s-eye from yards. I’d grown so rusty now I felt I couldn’t hit one from a few feet.

Alas, Swordsmanship was my true love, but it was scary how fast it also became my anchor. I loved the feeling of wielding a blade so sharp it could sever a head with a swing, and split skin with delicacy, but fierceness. But I hated how it gave me this feeling of power. That feeling ate at me, and so I stopped trying to get better and better and shifted my focus. I grew faster physically, and my mind grew sharper than ever. My hearing enhanced as I studied, and I taught myself to see through the thickest darkness. Though in the Guild, I might have been the best at what I did, it was only because I was better at what I was working on. I was silent, I was fast, and I was deadly, but doing small jobs for the Thieves Guild never let me really let loose what I had. That feeling of power had built up. That anchor of loving the blade of a sword and how wielding it made me feel; it built up and up, and now…now as I look back on all I’ve done, just in a few weeks, all the blood that’s been shed on my account, and the body count I hold that’s raising higher and higher…

In my state of healing, I had too much time to ponder what had happened to me. I am not the same girl that I was when I left the Guild. I haven’t quiet put my finger on what it is, but soon I vowed to.

While I was held to a bed, by my injury, Niruin never left my side. I knew he could feel the pain radiating from me despite how I hadn’t spoken since the night I was wounded.

Since the night Vekel died.

Since the night Cynric died.

I wanted nothing more than to march right out of the Cistern and head to Windhelm, and kill Ulfric Stormcloak where he stood, but the ghost of the steel blade that had stabbed me kept me pinned where I was. I felt internally frozen. I couldn’t feel any pain from the wound, but the mental wounds were wide open, and they were causing more pain than I thought possible.

Everyone had been by me at least once. Rune, Brynjolf, and Sapphire more than the others. Rayvn had even stopped by a couple times. When he stopped by it was always late at night, when Niruin was asleep in a bed two feet from me. He’d tell me stories of when he was with the Morag Tong. I listened.

He’d tell me he understood why I went out that night to go kill them. He tells me he understands, and I believe him.

“Please, just say something.” Niruin’s calm, quiet voice broke the string of thoughts in my head, and I looked over at him, and I knew my eyes looked dead, but I had things I need to do. Places I needed to go. I had all these tasks and yet I was being held by a wound healing too slowly. “I know we’ve lost too many in such a short time, but you can’t just close up like this. This is not the way to deal with things.” Niruin was right, but what was there to say?

Malborn died because he was my brother. Vekel died because he was in the way of the Stormcloaks, who were hunting for me. Cynric died because he had hope that what we used to be could come alive again.

“You don’t know how much it pains me to see you hurt. I don’t want you to give up.” Niruin’s voice was soft, and I took his hand, and he smiled slightly, most probably because I was showing a sign of life and that things would be okay, but truthfully, it was for other reasons. I wouldn’t be here much longer.

Rayvn came and sat with me after Niruin fell asleep. He questioned if I was up for a chat, and I didn’t decline. But after a few hours of a one-sided conversation and telling of tales, sleep had overcome him, and he fell quiet in the chair beside the bed, his breathing slowed. Niruin was fast asleep as well, my hand still in his.

I slipped my fingers from his grasp and slowly got out of bed, cringing as I sat up, feeling the silk stitches that Sapphire had sewn tugging at my skin. I put my hand over the stitches, and stood, relieving the tugging as I walked to the end of the bed and opened the chest, taking my armor from inside. Most of the Guild was asleep. I could hear echoes from the Raged Flagon, but no one in sight. I pulled on my armor, and when I looked back into the chest for my sword and bow, -my dagger left in the woods in a hole where the chest of a Thalmor used to be- I realized they were not where I thought. But their outcome was revealed not a second later.

“You’re not getting those weapons back.” Brynjolf’s voice was quiet from behind me, but right in my ear. I turned around and he sighed, already knowing where I was going, and sounding disapproving about it. “Sapphire will be very upset if you ruin her stitching.” He scolded and I stayed silent. He took a breath, uncrossing his arms. He knew I wasn’t budging until I got my weaponry back. “Your sword is cracked and your bow is too weak. If you’re going to do this, you’re doing it the right way or not at all. Follow me.” He turned around and I did as he said, following him around the Cistern and over to the training room, going over to the master locked chest. “No one can open this but Vex and I.” He whispered, pulling a key out of his pocket. “Only I because I have the key.” He chuckled slightly, and the remark did bring a small hint of a smile to my own lips. He opened the chest and brought out a set of armor that looked exactly like his, but something was different. “Blackguard armor. More protective than mine, and much more than the rags you’re wearing.” He placed the set on the chest beside the one he was looting around in, and then went back for something else. He pulled out two ebony daggers. “Niruin told me what happened to the guards in the woods.” He placed the daggers on the armor and then rummaged back, this time pulling out an ebony sword, placing it next to the armor before he returned to the depths of the chest once more and drew an ebony bow from its depths, standing up with it in his hands.

“I know you can handle one of these better than you let on, and I hope you pursue the skill.” Brynjolf looked from the bow and up at me. “Niruin always thought you were an amazing archer.” His eyes softened as he turned slightly, leaning the bow against the open chest, which was now presumably empty. Brynjolf stepped up to me, taking my shoulders. “I know what you’re going to do, and I have nothing against it. You know the Imperials and the Stormcloaks have been nothing but trouble, and I trust you’ll do the right thing with them all, because you have your reasons. I also hope you make Skyrim a better place while you’re at it.” He seemed to struggle with letting me do this, but I knew he wouldn’t stop me. “I just ask one thing of you, just one thing.” He looked me in the eyes, and I could tell this was hard. He was sending me out to start a war of three armies against one person. He was sending me into a battle I might not make it out of, but he mustered half a smile anyways, and squeezed my shoulders slightly. “Make me proud to call you a member of this Guild.” The smile widened and I nodded quietly. He brought me into his arms in a quick hug before letting me go. “We’ll be waiting here for you when you decide to come around again.” He let go of me and didn’t say another word as he turned and left.

I departed that night leaving different footsteps in my path. It felt like the night I stormed off after learning of my parents’ fates’, but this time, I wasn’t going out to just thwart the Thalmor, I was going out to kill them, the Stormcloaks, and anyone who dared cross my path the wrong way. I was leaving this time a whole different person.

This wasn’t a journey, it was a mission.

Whether it was a suicide mission or not; that was still to be told.

Tomorrow morning Niruin will wake up and find me gone and be outraged. He’ll want to go out and find me, tears in his eyes because he’s lost too much in too little time, and he’ll want to hunt me down and bring me home. But Brynjolf…he won’t let him. And for that, I’m forever grateful. Even as Niruin slams his fists down on Brynjolf’s desk because Sapphire and Rayvn won’t let him out, Brynjolf will stand up, keeping a strong face as he tells Niruin I have to do this. He’ll explain there was no way to stop me. He’ll tell Niruin that I’ll be fine. He’ll lie, and say anything to calm him down, to get him to grasp the notion that this needs to be done.

On my Journey to Windhelm, I ran into Stormcloaks, and I didn’t even try to hide as I walked directly up behind them nonchalantly, drawing an ebony dagger from my waist, pulling my hood over my head, my footsteps silent as I came up behind the two and slit one’s throat before the other turned to me and I jammed the newly christened blade into his stomach, and his eyes crumpled with pain as he fell to his knees, and I pulled the dagger out of him and kicked him back, letting him fall. I walked on like nothing ever happened. I hardly broke my stride.

After Niruin sits in the Ragged Flagon with Sapphire, and she tells him about the jobs her and I used to go on, and reminds him of how independent I am, and how strong I can be, especially when anger is thrown into the mix, he’ll come to accept this mission I’m on, and what I’ve become. He’ll know what’s wrong with me, but he’ll be okay with it.

I knew what I’d become now. It hit me when I killed those Stormcloaks. I knew. I knew what I was, just like Niruin did the night we were heading back from the Thalmor Embassy. He knew then, and I know now.

I am what it’s going to take to avenge the deaths of my family, my lover, my friends, and my own life.

I’m a killer.

Because a killer was what it was going to take.