Chapter Text
19:48 pm, Tirdas, 17th of the Second Seed.
Rimmen, Northern Elsweyr.
Telling the truth would take the wind out of her, but Sybil knew she could trust Mirri— they were partners, after all. She trusted her with her secrets, her half-breed vampirism and even her life. Why then, had she lied about her past?
Some twenty-odd years ago, a mysterious stranger appeared in the night. He stood before a newborn’s crib, and gazed down at his spawn— his own flesh and blood, only to find impurity. Seeking to correct this wrong, he would imbue the child with his own corruption; to remake the child in his image, his heir. A wielder of death itself. But only if she would survive such drastic transformation.
The stranger did not succeed. Forces beyond his control, unforeseen actions were taken, and the child vanished beyond his reach. The child’s mother abandoned her three-week old, and disappeared that same night.
The child’s aunt, a Telvanni Magister named Elmuna, reluctantly took her in. She had no interest in family, no love for children nor anyone else. All she cared for, was her reputation and status. A child could only be trouble, and unfortunately for her, she had been right. As Sybil grew older, she’d become more and more restless within her home, surrounded by her aunt’s slaves to raise her. Her boundless energy became a problem, and she would constantly be destructive or, as her aunt would put it, a pain the arse.
“Pardon?” Mirri interrupted. She’d just taken a sip from a flask Sybil brought out sometime during her story, and she smirked a little. “You’re still a pain the arse now.”
Sybil took the flask back, and took a large gulp. It burned her throat as she swallowed, but the buzz in her head made her feel better. “Well, I didn’t grow out of it,” she retorted. “But do continue interrupting me. I certainly don’t want you to get bored.”
In reply, Mirri gave her an impassive little wave. She continued listening quietly, and Sybil explained how much trouble she’d been as a child. From simply stealing sweets from the kitchen, to starting fights with other children outside. She couldn’t sit still and pay attention when getting lessons, nor would she listen to any belittling or punishments her aunt gave her for it. In other words, she hadn’t changed much.
“For my credit, I evaded the guards for long,” she said somewhat proudly. “Sure, they would catch me sometimes at first, but with practice came mastery.”
“Of course,” Mirri deadpanned. “How young were you again?”
Sybil shrugged. “Does it matter? Eventually I got caught properly, and arrested.”
It had been all it took. Her aunt no longer tolerated her behaviour. The guards kept an even closer eye on her, and all the families knew whom had a bad influence on their children. Her friends couldn’t be seen with her anymore. They stopped talking to her, to avoid their parents’ anger. She hated them. She hated their parents, she’d snap and curse any adult or old friend and sought any excuse to start a fight or argument. Often, she refused to return home.
One evening, during the Mid Year Celebration, she’d hung around outside again. The merchants had packed, and most people were at home with their family to celebrate. She wasn’t— she didn’t even know where her aunt was, nor did she care.
A cage near the water held an Argonian slave, who looked miserable after sitting so long in the sun. Somehow, she hadn’t the thought of helping him, or any other slave before. After all, she’d been raised surrounded by them. But seeing him then, trapped within a steel-bar cage and barely living.. No one was around to witness this, or so she thought..
Barely, the lock clicked open before a heavy voice called out. A guard took quick strides towards her, his hand around the hilt of his great sword, a furious rage clear on his face. She.. she panicked. Took her hidden dagger— to protect herself, only to protect herself.. to..
Sybil trailed off, her mind travelling miles away from the present. Her memory of that night, it’s too foggy to remember. She shook her head, her eyes to the ground.
“What? Did you attack him?” Mirri asked.
“Yes.”
She looked up to see her reaction. A mixture of worry and condemnation creased her brow, but Mirri held a steady gaze on her. Ever so subtly, her red eyes narrowed a moment. “Did you kill him?”
“I don’t know,” Sybil answered honestly. He still lived when she ran, remembering the sound of his raspy breaths. But blood stained her hands, when she found herself home. Her aunt’s slaves were frightened by her, but one helped her settle down. Still shaking, she washed the blood off her hands. But she couldn’t stay.
Within her aunt’s office, had been a safe. She knew how to unlock it years ago, but kept it secret. Within were documents, of herself and the slaves her aunt kept, and a handsome amount of gold. The documents were destroyed, and the gold distributed among herself and the slaves. Lastly, she turned on the fireplace.. and burned the house down. After that night, she never returned to Sadrith Mora.
“None of that explains how you ended up at the fetching Dark Brotherhood,” Mirri said somewhat impatiently. “One doesn’t just walk into their little cult, so I’m told.”
Sybil drank the last few drops to soothe her parched throat, and took a breath. The sun had completely set, and millions of stars twinkled in a sea of darkness above them. She heard excited shouts some distance away, echoing through the empty streets, and faint music sounded from the nearby inn.
“I may have caught their attention when I snuck into a place I shouldn’t have,” she said as she shrugged nonchalantly. “Does it help if I tell you I was never initiated?”
Mirri scoffed.
“Bit of a rule violation, but the Listener didn’t object so no one—“
“Do you hear yourself?” Mirri interrupted, disgust written all over her. “All this cult.. guar dung?”
Sybil inclined her head.
“Yes, it’s.. uh— I thought you’d at least think it’s interesting,” she admitted. “Isn’t it comparible to Daedric worship?”
Clearly, Mirri resisted to roll her eyes, but gave it genuine thought. “I suppose, from a certain perspective.. Just— answer me this.”
Her eyes sharpened as she regarded Sybil. “The Blade of Woe.. have you used it?”
“No?”
Sybil raised an eyebrow, watching as Mirri relaxed again and threw her head back, closing her eyes as if fighting off a headache. “I wasn’t given one— did you not listen to a word I just said?”
“No, I heard your nonsense.”
She opened her eyes and blinked, staring at the night sky as she thought. “Have you done contracts for them?”
“Again, no.”
Sybil paused a moment. “I did get trained by some people, but no sketchy assassinations.”
“Alright.”
Mirri stood then, almost casually stretching as she talked. “That doesn’t quite absolve you, but.. I can hardly be mad at you for something you didn’t actually do.”
With a smirk, Sybil sat back and put her hands behind her head. “Exactly! You know thievery is more my style, though I’ll admit; it can be quite fun to hack my way through enemies.”
The absolute irritation that showed on Mirri as she crossed her arms had her grin even more. “In self-defense, of course.”