Chapter 13: The Wild Hunt

Chasing prey was always exhilarating.

My blood pumped in my veins, my breath puffing coldly into the chill Solitude night. The moons hung overhead in the starry blackness, neither of them full but still bright enough to turn the city into a patchwork of shadows and real darkness. Someone less used to the night might only see black on black, but I could see greys and whites and deep blues, all of it shading toward red around the edges of my sight.

I saw my target again, ducking between one chimney and the next. If I had been a second slower behind, I would have lost track entirely. I grinned beneath my cowl and picked up the pace, pushing my body until my limbs burned and my breath sizzled in my chest. Even at my best pace, my feet were whispers on the tiled rooftops; the people sleeping under me would hear no more from my frenzied chase than they would from a family of pigeons turning over in their nests.

All at once, my prey noticed me, more sensing my presence than seeing or hearing me. It made sense; skilled killers could often feel each other's murderous intent long before they laid eyes on one another, or so Nazir had told me once. I wasn't sure that was a talent I would ever have, though. For me, killing intent was more normal than peace.

After all, I had been raised by murderers. My adopted mother is the leader of the Dark Brotherhood. How could I not know death more intimately than life?

My prey gave up all pretense of stealth, putting on speed to widen the gap between us, hoping to outpace me since hiding was no longer an option. If anything, my grin became wider. I had run with an ice wolf across the open plains. Did this fool really think escape through mere speed was an option?

The chase seemed ended. The roof ahead gave way to open space with a gap of better than twenty feet between the end of one eaves and the beginning of the next. My prey did the unexpected, though, and put on a sudden burst of speed before leaping into the open air. I saw feet churning in space, like running on nothing, before a puff of snow and a rolling landing made me realize I had been holding my breath, convinced that the leap would end with a bone-crunching fall instead.

She wanted to play it this way? Fine then.

I pushed myself to the absolute limit, waited until the last possible second to make my jump. My heart seized in my chest as I hit the apex of my leap. Even as I felt the absolute terror of knowing I was going to fall short, I was still thrilled. I was alive in a way I had forgotten I could be.

For at least another few seconds, anyway.

As I pinwheeled my arms, trying to gain as much distance as I could, my prey turned and leapt for the edge of the roof. She stuck out both hands, crossed at the wrists to brace them, and caught my extended arms at the moment they crossed her field of vision. She twisted to the side, bleeding my momentum and turning my fall into a neat, reversed arc. I swung my legs to aid her, bringing myself back up over the edge of the gutter and landing in a heavy heap beside my prey, my savior.

"Oof!" I grunted as I landed on my side, my wrists and forearms burning from the effort of my acrobatic maneuver.

"What in Oblivion were you thinking?" Runa asked as she rolled over next to me. "Following me like that could have killed you!"

"Thought I could make the jump," I said simply. Actually, I hadn't. I just hadn't cared if I missed or not.

"You've got forty pounds on me," she replied, pulling back my cowl and hood to look me in the eyes as she berated me. "I made the jump because I'm lighter."

"Thirty pounds," I said with a smile. "Maybe thirty pounds."

"Are you calling me fat?" she asked with a sharp smile of her own. "Or maybe you like that. I seem to recall what's-her-face being a chubby lump."

"Don't talk about Dagny," I said sharply, my smile melting away in a heartbeat.

"Poor baby," Runa teased. "Fine then. Let's not talk anymore."

When she pressed her mouth to mine with a force that was almost painful, I could almost recapture that sensation of freedom that falling through empty space had given me.

I was walking the streets of Solitude on a clear, cold day when I nearly committed murder.

The snow had been shoveled from the majority of walks and streets, but the crisp chill in the air was still keeping most people indoors. I liked days like this-not so much the cold as the emptiness. The city certainly lived up to its name today. Most of the time I feared the quiet, so much like the lonely terrors of my childhood, but it was appealing every now and again. When I couldn't find solace in my own heart, the quiet white of the snow-covered city seemed to dampen the embers that burned within me.

"Aretino!" called a familiar voice from behind me. I heard the crunch of booted feet on snow, the twist of ankles locking in a way that meant a blow was coming. After all the times he had managed to slap me on the back without warning, it was almost humorous to think he would warn me before actually hitting me.

I could have disabled my would-be attacker in a dozen ways. Even without looking, I could tell his stance was sloppy. He had cried out to me before attacking; that meant he wanted to look into my eyes when he struck. That sort of forewarning was the mark of a rank amateur. A real killer never gave any sign of his intent before striking. It took everything in me to just turn around like one of the common sheep I was pretending to be-to not dismantle my attacker before he could say another word. I saw it play out in my mind, felt his bones breaking under my grip, felt his nose break from my counter-strike.

The barely-restrained violence in my heart had been less restrained than usual since the silent carriage ride home after New Life Day. Dagny had said nothing to me on the trip back from the ball, murmured only polite words as I exited the carriage that were less than nothing when we arrived back in Solitude. It had been more than a week since I had last seen her, and the knowledge that our relationship was over weighed in my stomach like an undigested stone.

I pushed the anger from my face, made it as blank and stupid as I could before the blow came. My assassin-trained reflexes let me roll with the blow that might have broken my nose if I had taken it badly. I caught it on my jaw instead, snapping my head back and rolling on my heels dramatically to tumble into a convenient snowbank. I would sport a nasty bruise later, but the physical pain was worth the cold blackness that silenced everything inside me. The trained killer in me ached to shed blood; I chained and leashed it as I looked up at my attacker.

"Good morning to you too, Frothar," I said mildly, rubbing my jaw. Jarl Balgruuf's eldest son stood over me, his fists balled up and his face tight. His whole demeanor said that he intended to beat me if I gave him cause, but that he was hardly committed to violence. He was flexing his right hand as though hitting me had bruised his delicate knuckles. I fought the urge to smirk at his discomfort.

"Aventus," he said, nodding at me but not dropping his fists.

"Are you going to hit me again, or can I at least stand up first?" I asked him, again with no more emotion than asking if he could pass me the salt.

"A true Nord would never hit a man while he was down," he responded, almost automatically.

"And I suppose yelling at me was to keep it from being a dishonorable sneak attack?" I asked, pulling myself into a sitting posture and brushing the snow from my sleeves. I looked up from my efforts and gave him a carefully planned half-smile. Look at how charming I can be! that smile said. No hard feelings, old friend!

"Naturally," he said with a half-smile of his own, finally dropping his fists and offering me a hand up.

That was my moment.

I saw it all play out in my mind, a perfect kill. I would take his hand and let him help me to my feet. My other hand would pull the knife from my boot. I would use the momentum to drive it home, stabbing him in the chest between the third and fourth ribs. The blade would pierce his heart and he would die before he could speak a word. Frothar Balgruufson would die with my face as the last thing he saw.

It took me a moment to realize that I was already reaching for my knife as I took his hand. I looked down and forced myself to take a moment. What was I doing? Frothar was neither my prey nor a serious threat. He was a boy barely older than me who had never taken a life-as close to innocent as anyone in this world could be expected to be. Certainly more innocent than I had been for years.

I put both of my hands on my knees and breathed heavily. I was suddenly dizzy, less from the blow and the fall than from the killing intent leaving me in an almost physical rush. The quiet blackness shattered, leaving behind just Aventus Aretino, a teenaged boy whose hair was always too long, who always felt shabby no matter what he wore. Frothar, not knowing how close he had just come to death, clapped me on the back.

"I didn't hit you that hard, did I?" he asked. The note of solicitousness in his voice shamed me.

"Well, I wasn't expecting to be hit this morning," I told him. "Usually, if I'm going to be punched in the face, it happens after lunch." He laughed and I joined him, trying to get back the equilibrium that I had lost so suddenly.

"Sorry about that," he said. His face turned serious again and he frowned at me. "You had it coming, though."

"Did I?" I asked. I couldn't work up too much indignity. I had much worse coming to me, if I were being honest about it.

"Dagny's been sulking in her room since New Life Day," he told me. "She barely comes out except for meals, and she barely touches her food." I groaned and tottered to a nearby bench. Someone had helpfully cleaned it off already, so I sank onto it, running my gloved fingers through my hair. "I asked her if something had happened between you two, but all she did was burst into tears and run off."

"Frothar, I-" I started, but he cut me off before I could get another word out.

"Aventus, if you've shamed my sister in any way…" He trailed off and balled up his fists, clearly beginning to remember that he was supposed to be angry at me. I sighed and looked up at him. Frothar was not the sort of person for whom anger-any strong emotion, really-came easily, so it was hard for him to hold onto it for long.

"We broke up," I told him. I thought about it for a moment and decided to be as honest as I could. It might earn me another punch, but Frothar didn't have it in him to be seriously violent. "Truth be told, I broke up with her. I didn't like the way she treated me, and I told her as much."

Frothar paused, frowning in thought, then opened his fists and sat down next to me.

"Well, thank goodness," he said, then looked at me with wide eyes. "Not that you broke up, I mean. Just that it wasn't anything more serious." He ran a hand through his long brown hair and tried again. "With how she was acting, I was worried that, well… You know."

"No, Frothar," I told him. "I don't know." Part of me was enjoying watching him squirm around the idea of accusing me of sleeping with his sister, but I mostly just felt bad about the whole situation. "I still like Dagny. A lot, really. But I'm not going to let her push me around like a stable boy just because I like her."

"That's just how Dagny is," he replied, coming to her defense. "She doesn't mean anything by it."

"Maybe not," I said, nodding, "but it sure feels like she does. I told her that she had to learn how to treat me with respect or we were over. I'm sorry that she's upset. It wasn't my intention to hurt her."

"Even though she's hurt you?" he asked, glancing at me as though the question were casual.

"I would never want to hurt Dagny," I said, surprised at the hot tears that welled up in my eyes. "She means too much to me."

"Then apologize, for the love of the Eight!" Frothar said, throwing his hands to the sky as though he expected the gods to appear and back him up.

"I didn't do anything wrong!" I stood up and turned to face him.

"Do you think that actually matters?" he asked. He crossed his arms as though lecturing to a child. "Apologies aren't about right and wrong. They're about moving past the argument. Anger can't end unless someone takes the blame."

"And you came here to put the blame on me?" My face was turning red now, and I could feel my voice scaling up. "Because your sister can't possibly be responsible for anything, right?"

"I came here to make you take responsibility for my sister's pain," he growled, coming to his feet again. Anger might not have been natural for Frothar, but he was still a Nord-less passionate than some of his folk, but only by a matter of degrees. "I feel responsible for this situation, at least a bit. I pushed you together, after all." He paused for a moment, and I thought about that day months ago-Divines, was it only months?-when the two of us had run side by side like old friends, though we had just met. "And whether you meant to or not, Aventus, you hurt her! My sister has a good heart, and she clearly cares about you. Honor her love, swallow your pride, and apologize."

"Frothar, if I apologize now, I'll be doing it for the rest of our relationship. I can't spend my whole life saying 'I'm sorry' for things I didn't do."

"More's the pity then," he said, turning away from me. Before he left, he paused, looking at me over his shoulder. "You should reconsider, Aventus. After all, you've clearly thought about spending the rest of your life with my sister. Is your pride worth throwing that away?"

As he walked away, I felt the stone in my belly grow heavier and colder. The winter day no longer felt as clear to me. A shadow seemed to hang over my heart now, if not over the city itself. He was right in a way that he couldn't have known. I had thought about a life with Dagny-a life outside the Dark Brotherhood. Now, with that spoiled, all that was left was the killer in me, hungering for death. It had nearly taken Frothar's life before I could restrain it.

I had almost let my mask slip during our very first conversation; this time, the slip had almost been fatal. My mask was getting harder and harder to keep in place. This wasn't just the boredom that had motivated me into my quest to find Finn's Lute, but something deeper and more painful. I needed something to channel my bloodlust, something to focus it on.

Running through my options, the demon-masked killer was my logical choice. He had haunted my thoughts for some time, but I had put him off because of my studies… and because of Dagny, I had to admit. I had let my interest slip away. Perhaps it was time to return to that interest, to turn my bloodlust against someone worthy of it.

If I was going to go hunting, I would need backup-and I had already managed to recruit someone very useful to help me. All that was left was to reach out and let her know that it was time...

"Did you enjoy your reward?" Runa asked when she finally broke our kiss.

"I'm beginning to wonder who was rewarding whom, honestly," I responded. "These chases always seem to end the same way, no matter which of us wins."

Runa smiled and leaned back from me, dusting snow from my shoulders. She leaned over and casually ruffled Pavot's ears, a gesture which elicited only a brief ruff of contentment from the massive ice wolf. She was one of the few people who could get away with treating the two-hundred-pound predator with such casual closeness.

"I'm still mad at you for that stupid chance you took on the jump," she said.

"And I'm still mad at you for bringing up Dagny," I told her before leaning in to press my mouth against hers again. We stayed like that for over a minute, breathing each other's warmth, before we finally broke apart.

"At least we know where we stand," she said with a knife-edged smirk.

"Where we stand is that we've been doing night patrols for three days without a sign of our real prey," I complained. Runa looked at me sharply and I held up my hands in a sign of warding. "Not that I mind having someone to… um… train with." She smiled again and I relaxed by a tiny fraction.

"You've been through too many near-death experiences over the last year," she said, standing up and dusting snow off of her leather pants. I had managed to fill Runa in on a heavily-edited version of events I had been through since I had left Honorhall more than four years ago. "You've got to build up your strength and stamina again. And your hand-to-hand skills are frankly a mess."

"You're not the first person to tell me that," I allowed, grudgingly.

"Well, if you get tired of chasing me across rooftops and sparring in alleys, I can always think of much more fun ways to build your stamina and test your grappling skills." She leered at me in a way that made me feel like a piece of meat and laughed at my obvious discomfort.

Why did I keep getting involved with women that were only happy when they were winding me up?

"We'll keep going out nights and searching until we find him," I said.

"Or until you have to go back to school next week," Runa teased. "Then I'm pretty much on my own looking for this 'Demon Mask' of yours."

"Don't even think about hunting him on your own," I growled at her. "He's a dangerous lunatic with a magic sword who makes a habit of killing women."

"And don't think you can tell me what to do, Aventus Aretino," she replied in a harsh voice. "You might have asked for my help with this mess, but I'll give it how I see fit."

"I just don't want you hurt," I said, turning away to look out across the snow-covered rooftops.

"That's sweet," Runa told me, patting me on the cheek like a child. "Stupid, but sweet."

"I guess that's me in a nutshell," I murmured.

"At least you're smart enough to recognize it," she replied. "That's more intelligent than most men ever become."

"Well, then," I told her, pulling my cowl up to cover the lower half of my face against the freezing wind, "I guess I'll have to take that as a compliment."

"It was intended as one," she smirked at me before taking off across the roofs once more. I followed her at a regular pace, in my element once more. The hunt was on again.

But I couldn't help but feel that shadow on my heart. It whispered to me that the whole time Runa had been kissing me, it was Dagny that I had been thinking about...