taros//rock-a-bye baby

[LAYLA SHADOWBLADE .]

when the bough breaks the cradle will fall and down will fall baby .

Shards of the ruined scroll floated away on the air that wove its way through the coven’s cave. The witches now lay dead, bodies scattered motionless across the rocks, left where the fel in the spots that she had ended their lives. But it had not gone according to plan. Their fight had been neither as effortless or as swift as Layla had imagined. She had known it was a coven, but she he had expected only a handful of witches. As she crept into the abandoned mine in the dead of night, she found instead seven witches and two hagravens. This had given her pause only for a moment. Layla had never quit on a job. Not once in all the years she had hunted. In Layla’s opinion, the coven had been good as dead the moment she accepted the bounty letter. She had been certain that a few extra witches was nothing before the fight started.. She could easily handle this. Years of practice would more than equal out a few months of letting herself get rusty. Her hunting instincts would kick right back in. It was like riding a horse. You never forgot how. Or were you supposed to climb back upon the horse right after you fell? Two of the witches had been picked off with her bow before being found. The fight spiraled rapidly downhill after that. An over confident in the sharpness of her abilities even after her limited practice recently and underestimating how much her pregnancy would affect her fighting abilities ultimately betrayed her. Her wards were only so strong. The spells the coven threw easily forced the magical shield down before she was able to finish of another witch. One of the fireballs caught her her on the left, brilliant flames ran over her leather bracer as she raised her arm to block it. She found her magica draining too quickly, either from lack of practice or energy. Each seemed as likely as the other. Layla was forced to resort to her scrolls early in the fight, leaving her with no magical resources and with two hagravens to handle. The burns across her left arm made it impossible to use her bow. Her right hand was her less dominate, rendering steel dagger seemed almost useless. If not for the enchantment on it, she doubted it would have done nearly enough damage to finish even the witch. Any time that she felt she could muster a little more magic, it was quickly drained on restoration to keep her just on her feet for the last leg of the fight. As she dodged a fireball from the final hagraven by ducking behind the witches’ altar, she found one last scroll. Without it she would not have finished the last of the hagravens. She watched the shards of scroll drifting away, struggling to regain control of her breathing. Her chest felt heavy. As the adrenaline of fighting a losing battle began to wear off, her feet became unsteady. She felt her legs collapse underneath her but was powerless to stop it. Her head hit the rough stone wall behind her. The first pain she felt was the searing kind radiating from her was the burn on her left arm. The leather armor she wore was scorched all along the left side. She could see her once golden skin was now raw and orange between her pauldrons and her bracers. Individually the rest of her wounds would have been nothing. Combined they were devistating. Her leather armor was soaked in blood, at least half of which seemed to be her own. There was a deep, bleeding wound along one of her palms where she’d caught a witch's dagger in her bare hand, and a bolt of ice through one thigh from a spell. Thankfully the ice was melting, but it was just succeeding in making her cold and wet in adition to her other wounds.. A large gash split her forehead, blood falling down her cheek. She had more cuts, bruises, and scrapes than she had felt in a long time. Her head was foggy. HItser body felt like it was being crushed under a giant. She could not make any of her muscles move. She needed to get to her potions. They were in her knapsack, which had been left directly inside the door of the mine She had set it down there because the bottles of health potion in her pack were rattling and made far too much noise. She had been worried the witches would spot her before she was ready. That had clearly worked out in her favor. Even through her muddled brain, she regretted the decision now. After a few slow breaths, she made an attempt to stand. Instantly, she felt light headed and toppled back to her knees as pain raced through her body. She cried out, falling to one side, one hand pressed to her swollen middle She could feel her insides writing beneath her hand. The burns, the cuts, the scrapes, and the bruises quickly became the furthest thing from her mind. At first she thought he had been caught by one of the witches daggers But there was no blood seeping through her chest plate. Down her thighs was a different matter entirely. She was going to be sick. Her chest felt heavy, her head was not clearing up as it usually did after a fight. Her body seemed to be failing more quickly rather than gaining strength as it should have. Her first thought was that she had been poisoned. She just needed to get to the mines entrance if she could make it there everything would be fine. They were both going to be fine. But her second attempt to stand failed worse than the first, she never made it above her knees. A third attempt was no more effective. Layla had been hurt before in battle, but it had never felt like this. Tears involuntarily joined the blood on her golden cheeks, as she cried out again. The pain would lessen every few minutes, only to return with a vengeance. Layla knew what was happening to her, but she refused to admit it. She was going to make it up the steep slope of the mine to the entrance. Once she reached her bag both she and the child would be fine. ”We will be fine.” She gasped softly, before making a final attempt at standing. This attempt was even less successful than its predecessors. Layla fell forward, hitting the rock beneath her. In that moment, Layla was struck by the possibility that she was going to die. This mine was going to be her tomb, and the tomb of their unborn child. Their bodies were going to be left at the bottom of this mine until some necromancers moved into the cave and resurrect her corpse as some sort of mindless zombie. Her husband would be a widower. Taros would have no idea what had happened to them. He would search for them, and he would never find them. Her sweet dark elf would forever question what became of his wife and child. Would he think they had been kidnapped? He would blame himself. He would never find his wife and his unborn child, and it would destroy the love of her life. What if he thought that she had left him? What if he believed that she had taken their child and run off to the Summerset Isles. He had to know how much she loved him. He could never believed that she would be so unhappy that she ran away from their marriage. But, was that not what she was doing. She was going to die here, her child was going to die here, because she could not make herself be happy in her role of housewife. She had left Taros. That was exactly what she had done. We will be fine.” She said again, stronger, above the tears. We will be fine.” It was not going to end like this. She could not, she would not let her husband be alone. Layla could not die thinking that Taros might feel she abandoned him. She gritted her teeth as she tried to crawl forward, but the pain inside her was too much. She gasped as she rolled to her side, her knees drew up towards her, one hand clutching her stomach. We will be fine.” She hissed again through clenched teeth. ”We will be fine.” she could not stand the thought of her husband alone and grieving the loss of his family. She was not going to let that happen. The pain from her middle lessened for a moment, as if with her determination. She pulled herself a bit forward, then twice more, before the pain returned. As she rolled to her side she closed her eyes. ”We will be just fine. You will be just fine. Just hold on, Toran. She was focused on getting to the mine entrance, but each time she moved forward her progress slowed until it was but iches before she moved. Her eyes began to get heavy. She tried to fight it, but in the end her eyes closed and her head fell forward onto the stone beneath her. Layla’s breathing began to even then to slow.

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word count - 1566 . tag - taros . outfit - leather armor .

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[TAROS SHADOWBLADE .]

singing my final song of honor

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[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, background: #2e3233; width:300px; height:450px; padding:0px;] [style=width:250px; height:40px; font-family: times; font-size: 10px; letter-spacing:3px; background-color:#transparent;]I WAS TORN BY THE STORMS IN MY HEAD LIKE A VICTIM OF FATE, BORN TO REGRET.

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tagged: layla/ pond words:

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it had been too long - the dunmer was becoming worried. four days without word, last he had heard, his beloved wife was somewhere in whiterun. that, within itself worried him. whiterun had never been his most favourite place in the world, but he figured it was better than her being out, alone and on the roads. still, four days without word, when taros should have got a message from layla two days ago. that was not like her, she always kept in touch, always made sure to tell him that she was safe. how else was he supposed to react? it wasn't only his wife he needed to worry about, it was his unborn child that went along with her.

finally, after he paced and pondered, trying convince himself that she was alright and that he didn't need to be so overprotective, he decided that it was his duty to see if she was alright. he was her husband, afterall. this even meant him possibly being heavily harrassed by his wife's mother, a woman of whom taros didn't ever get along with. at times, he had thought about killing the crone himself, though he would never follow through it. as much as layla's mother gave him oblivion and back, he would never do such a thing to his precious wife. taros knew, first hand, just how devistating it could be to lose a parent - no matter how cold and evil they seemed.

packing himself a bag, he suited up in nothing but a tunic and a pair of breeches, a cloak the only thing to keep himself warm. well, of course he packed his knives - there was no way he would be leaving solitude without them. throwing the back over his shoulder, he set out of his safe house in the heart of solitude and out into the terrorizing lands that skyrim had to offer. odd how something so terrifying made him feel so much more at home.

he made no stops, if he needed to eatm he would eat while he kept moving, there was no way he was going to be wasting any time, especially if it came down to possibly saving his wife's life.

along the way, he had run into a travelling bard, a stout man with a blond beard and stocky build, his lute strapped to his back. the craving inside of taros had started to grow - he was stressed and thus the urge to kill had made itself known. inside of his blood, he could feel his senses heightening, his heart pounding in his chest as he thought about the crimson that would spill from the man, if the dunmer followed through with it. as the craving grew, taros' mind started to fade, his inner beast chanting for him to kill, just kill and feel better.

as he started to become nearer and nearer to the man, a small voice in the back of his mind reminded him of layla and the whole reason as to why he was out in the first place. immediately, his mind snapped back, his mind clearing long enough for him to actually stop the man and ask him if he had even seen a woman around these parts. his description of her was the best her could give, the best that anyone could give, for he described her down to the last hair on her head. no one knew layla's body and soul, like taros did.

fortune seemed to be on the dunmer's side, as the man stated that a woman who resembled layla had come this way a day or so ago. thanking the man, and even giving him a few coin for the road, he started to run in that direction, now knowing that he was, in fact going the correct way.

each step, he felt a slight bit of relief wash over him, until he spotted something as he came up towards a mine off to the side of the road. furrowing his eyebrows, he recognized a bag at the front of the door. for the first time the entire trip, he stopped, if only because he was positive that the bag had to be layla's. walking up to it, he knelt down and rummaged through it, seeing some of the items she had packed before looking back up at the door. fear started to course through him, now that there was more than a chance that his wife was now in this mine, more than likely dead, "layla!" he cried out before he opened the door to the mine and ran in.

he could smell the stenched of blood and burned ashes as he made his way farther into the cave. pulling out his daggers, he held them in his hands, more than prepared to attack anything that would come in his way, "layla!" he cried out again, his voice echoing throughout the mine. he looked every way he would, making sure that he couldn't miss anything. he could feel the tightening in his throat as the possivle reality of losing not only his wife, but his unborn child, started to sink in, "sithis, please let her be safe..." it was a silly prayer to such a god, but he had no where else to turn.

turning the corner, he entered a davern, seeing the bodies of five witches a one hagraven, the other three he had passed on the way through. had layla done all of this? the light was dim, but it was light enough for him to make out the bodies of the witches plus one other. dropping his daggers, he ran towards the body of his wife, "layla!" his voice shook as he knelt to her side and looked down at her. Cupping the side of her face, he lightly tapped it, "layla...layla, wake up, my love. it's taros...it's your husband..." he started before his gaze moved towards the pool of blood that seemed to be around no where but her abdomen. without another moment, taros shadowblade, member of the dark brotherhood and cold blooded assassin, shed tears for his dead child. cradling layla's head in his arms and on his knees, he leaned his head down and placed it on her forehead, "i'm sorry...i'm sorry i didn't come sooner..." he sobbed, rocking back and forth as he mourned.

notes: i'm sorry the beginning is rubbish, it get's better towards the end. xD

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[LAYLA SHADOWBLADE .]

when the bough breaks the cradle will fall and down will fall baby .

Her eyes were closed, but she knew where she was. She could feel the kiss of the cold air rushing off the ice on her cheeks and in her hair. The stones beneath her feet were as familiar as the sound of her mother’s voice. She stood on the edge of the bridge to the college, hands stretched to either side. She had been only five winters the first time she stood in this very spot. Her mother had scolded her terribly for scaring her, but Layla knew every stone of the bridge as intimately as she knew herself. When she did not know what to do next she found herself standing in that spot. Here, where it was quiet and all of Skyrim lay before her. She could see it even with her eyes closed, the images were a permanent fixture inside her eyelids. The clouds covered the sun, as she could not feel any warmth, the fog was heavy today, obstructing most of her view. This bridge, the stones under her leather boots, the college, the mages, Skyrim’s landscape disappearing into the horizon, the heavy fog, they were all a part of her as she was a part of them. And as she stood on the edge of the bridge, for the first time ever, she felt the desire to let herself fall. For the first time, the water beneath her became a siren’s call, begging her to just fall. Her fingertips stretched as far as they could go. Just fall. It would be so easy. The satisfying rush of cold air as she tumbled towards the sea. As Winterhold had been consumed by waves, so could she. But her breath caught as she contemplated the fall. Memories floated to the surface, replacing the bridge and Skyrim around her. The altar upon which she had killed her first witch. The covens, the den of werewolves, and the vampires she had helped rid Skyrim of. So much of her life had been defined by death. The smell of blood and burnt flesh invaded her senses overwhelming all the others, gone was the familiar bridge of the college, instead she could feel the floor of the cave beneath her body. The warm blood that must have been her own slowly draining from her. Somewhere above her she could hear her husband shouting her name, but it was a distant voice as if she were trapped in a well. She tried to open her eyes, but they were too heavy, sewn shut with the utter exhaustion that consumed her. It created a stark contrast to the empowered feeling of standing on the bridge and waiting to fall. She heard him wish that she was safe, but she could not for any sounds nor summon any movement to let him know that she was alright, that she was here. She felt herself fading again. Her breathing stopped a moment before she again found herself in a familiar place. The temple of Mara. She had only been here once, but that day had been more important than any other in her life so far. She did not need to open her eyes, the fabric of the green dress she was wearing felt like none of the other clothes that she had ever purchased. It was the dress in which she married Taros. She could feel his strong warm hands around hers, stronger than any of the other feelings in the temple. His words of love, the promises they had made to each other that day sounded distorted As if they were combined with new words. Panicked words, pleading words. But she could not make them out. She could smell the incense of the temple, and her hear the disgruntled noises that her mother was making as she sat and watched their ceremony, but she could not hear the words that her husband was saying. No matter how she struggled to do so she could not. The smell of the incense became overwhelming before she found herself in her husbands arms at their home in Solitude. It could have been any number of days that they had together in their home, but she knew that it was the day that she told him she was Pregnant. The familiar knot in her stomach, though whether from apprehension about the child affecting her ability to hunt or about Taros's reaction to their news was unknown, was unmistakable. She had never been as terrified and overjoyed as she had been that day. But again, she could not hear the words that told her how pleased he was about their child, as they were garbled amongst the panicked words that seemed to get louder. The wind tugging at her hair brought her back to the edge of of the bridge. She felt only relief. Her concern for Taros was growing, but on the bridge all that seemed to fade away. It was just Layla and the stone and the water below. Just fall. She could just fall. She smiled, and very carefully opened her eyes, turned back to face the college for a moment before letting herself fall backwards off the, The wind rushed around her, her long dark golden hair tangled itself over her face, but she did not mind. As she fell, she was unaware of the black void that seeped beneath her, and equally unaware of the black skeletal hand that wrapped its bony fingers around her slender waist. Her eyes felt heavy again, and they drifted closed as the black hand drew her down into the dark embrace of the void. A man with darkness for a face at one with the black nothing that surrounded her carried Layla Shadowblade gently, swiftly and placed her back into the arms of her husband on the floor of a mine in middle of Skyrim. The bodies of the fallen Hagravens around them, and the death of their child heavy upon her conscience. Layla gasped, as air forced its way into her lungs. Suddenly her husband’s panicked words became clear. He was there in the cave with her. He had found her. But they were the sole living beings in the cave. The man with no face had vanished, or had he just been a part of her death dream. ”Taros...” she said softly, willing other words to come, but none could.

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word count - 1069 . tag - taros . muse music .

[TAROS SHADOWBLADE .]

singing my final song of honor

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[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, background: #2e3233; width:300px; height:450px; padding:0px;] I WAS TORN BY THE STORMS IN MY HEAD LIKE A VICTIM OF FATE, BORN TO REGRET. tagged: layla/ pond words:

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the arrival had been too late and it seemed as though the mighty taros had lost his only weakeness in his life - his family. most of the brotherhood would call this a triumph, something to finally let go of and feel completely free from any and all weaknesses. the dunmer felt nothing of the sort. the heaviness in his heart was almost enough to make him fall to his knees and perish as well - follow layla in to the afterlife and carry out his days with her there. but that was foolish, he would never have the courage to do such an act; never would he think of ending his life, when there were so many lives to end. still, the temptation was there and it would be a lie if taros stated that he wasn't thinking about it. still, the thoughts were there but the incentive to carry it out was not.

holding his wife close, he prayed to sithis that he did not take her, that he would leave her in this world with him. imagining a life without his wife was a foreign one, a life that was cold and dark and ruthless. he hated the thought and tried to banish it from his mind, but it was no use. all he could think about was coming back from a job and finding their home in solitude empty, lying in bed and catching a waft of her scent but knowing she would never be lying beside him again. the pain was so great and taros could feel his entire body go numb. what good was it to live without the one that he wanted so dearly? the thought as to why she was even here in the first place hadn't even crossed his mind. the only thing running through the dunmer's mind was how he was going to live without her. surely a rampage would ensue. a personal vendetta against any and all witches and hagravens.

everything seemed to fading into despair, a pool of sadness. it was all he was capable of feeling at the moment; he knew later on all of thise would become anger and then turn into a blinding rage that would tear him apart from the inside out.

then he heard her voice; that sweet beautiful voice that he was certain he would never hear again. pulling his head away, he looked down at her a cupped one side of her face, "layla!" he replied, shocked before he looked into her eyes, "by the god, you're alive!" leaning down, he placed a kiss to her forehead, "you're alive..." he repeated before he pulled away once more, "i'm going to get out out of here. everything is going to be alright now, my love..." he breathed before he started to climb to his feet, holding his wife in his arms. pulling her close to his chest, he started to run in the direction of the exit.

if she was breathing, there was no way that he was going to let her die.

finding the exit to the mine, he burst it open with his shoulder and stopped for a moment in the cold air. looking around frantically, he tried to figure out the fastest way back to solitude, but the only thing he could think of was finding a horse.

not wanting to waste anymore time, he started off in the direction he felt was fastest, hopefully he would find someone along the way that was willing to help a stranger with a nearly dead wife. if they were not complacent, he would take their horse by force - he was going to do everything he could to get his wife safe.

unfortunately for the young man, the travel back was all done on foot, with him carrying his wife the entire way. it was luck y that the mine was only a half day away form solitude, or else taros figured he would be unable to make it back in time to save her.

running through the gates, he started screaming, "some help! please! my wife!" he was out of breath and on the verge of passing out, which ultimately took him over as he fell to his knees, the sight of several people rushing to both himself and his wife's aid.

notes: i'm sorry the beginning is rubbish, it get's better towards the end. xD

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