Jester in the Crowd

The witch hunt was over.

Well, only a few people called it a “witch” hunt. Most people saw it more fitting to be called a “vampire” hunt, or something of that sort. Some people could hardly even believe there was a hunt at all. What had happened was too...much. Too impossible. However, none protested. They didn’t want to be the next to burn on a cross.

The count simply stared at his lover, who now hung to be burned. He wanted nothing more than to run over to her, to cut off the ropes that dug into her skin, to save her from her death, but he knew he couldn’t do that.The imperials would certainly have his hide if he did. The priest, who stood next to him, glared at him.

“Don’t have doubts. She deceived you. She’s a vampire, who cast a spell on you to love her. You’ll be thankful once we have her head and her spell wears away. All of Cyrodiil will thank you for eliminating this threat.” he said, his eyes covered by a white blindfold. When asked if he was blind, he simply replied no and went on his way. Why he covered half his face was a mystery.

The count nodded sadly. “Yes...yes, I understand. The guards should be on their way now with the sacred fire.” he said, holding back his tears.

No...no, you don’t understand!

Unlike the count, the young woman, who was near her end, allowed her tears to flow freely. The count had always known she was a vampire, and he knew she would never do such a thing. It wasn’t until that damned “priest” came and sang lies in his ears, accusing her of the Vampire’s Seduction and even claiming he had been a victim as well. How people could believe him, she had no clue.

Now, though, it didn’t matter who believed who.

She was going to die.

She looked over the crowd of people who had come to watch her burn. Most of them were just the average imperials, but there were some other races mixed in. Though, they all put aside their differences to see what they considered to be a monster die at the hands of her lover. She knew that, afterwards, they would probably all cheer and celebrate at her demise. Why did she feel this way? Because someone was already celebrating.

In the middle of the crowd, a single jester danced, spouting nonsense as he was seemingly trying to take people’s minds off of tragedy. Most people ignored him. Others thought he was being completely rude and disrespectful. The condemned just thought he was annoying, and mocking her. If he could just drop dead, right there, she would be thankful.

And he did.

She gasped as he seemed to disappear. Did he just-! she thought frantically, her eyes wide. Everyone else ignored it though. Today was her day to die.

But still...it was unnerving. Even on her own deathbed, seeing someone drop dead was never comforting.

Though, she didn’t have anymore time to think about it. The guards finally arrived, carrying long, flaming torches, to throw on the kindle below her. This was it. The count and the priest came forward, taking their front row seats. As she saw them, she took a moment to look over her past lover’s appearance one last time- dark brown hair, tied back in a medium length ponytail, though there were always a few mischievous strands of hair that came undone. Today, though, she could tell he put extra effort into keeping his hair completely sane. His efforts were futile, as he tucked a few stray hairs behind his ears. He tried to stay serious, but it wasn’t working.

The priest, on the other hand...well, no one knew much about what he looked like. He was covered in white robes, he hid under a white hood, and white rags veiled his forehead, nose, and eyes. All anybody could see was his mouth, and a couple of red strands of hair that poked out of his hood. He struggled to keep from smiling, she noticed, as he opened a large, important looking. Probably some sort of bible. He looked up at her, evil in his eyes.

“You, the condemned, fated to burn upon the cross with the crime of a witch...” he said, “What have you to say in your defense, or would you rather save your futile words for pointless prayer?”

Listen, my child...

She gasped, no longer paying attention to her last rights, instead focusing on the voice that was ringing through her head. No one else seemed to notice.

Even if these are your last words, you must be the hope for my children...your brothers and sisters...and they will be your hope as well...

Hope?! she thought, though she knew she was doomed. She never had a family. She had no siblings to save her. She knew these last words would be futile. But the voice...was comforting. At the very least, she could try.

“Darkness rises when silence dies...” she mumbled, tears streaming her face. Whatever silence the voice was talking about, she would die with it.

Louder...scream to your brothers and sisters....you are their last hope...

“Darkness rises when silence dies...!” she said, louder. Maybe it wasn’t futile. Maybe there was hope.

Scream, my child! Let them know you are listening, you are opening your ears to the pleas of the hopeless...

“Darkness rises when silence dies!!” she finally shouted, helplessly crying, her eyes full of pain as she looked at the count. He just stood there, a tear falling down his cheek as well. She would never hurt him. If only he knew that.

“Listener!!”

Suddenly, a single glass arrow shot through one of the guards, causing him to drop, breathless, just like the jester. The priest growled, jerking the torch from the dead man’s grip, as another arrow shot just by his face. The crowd was in chaos, screaming echoing in the air as they scrambled, guards searching for whatever assassin had shot the arrow. Her hope was growing, along with her confusion.

The count stayed, stepping behind the priest as the torch was shot out of his hand. He just looked at his past lover.

“What- what spell are you chanting?! How could you kill innocent people, when you know you will die anyway?!” he shouted, full of pain. She shook her head...and smiled.

“...I would...I would never hurt you...or anyone...I swear...” she said, as another man held an ebony knife to the count’s throat.

“Leave my listener alone.” he hissed, gently piercing his skin. The count whimpered, looking at the priest. Everything was confusing. Everything was out of place, and he may be the one to die because of that.

The priest, however, was not amused. He quickly shot a frost spell at the assassin, who jumped away, cutting the ropes away from the vampire and picking her up, running off. He was only supposed to kill the jester, but it turned into something much more chaotic...and enjoyable.

“Listener, your name. Please tell me your name.” he said once they were outside the city. He quickly took his cloak and hood off, wrapping them around her. He knew that she was a vampire, and after just roasting in the sun, there was no way she could get far walking on her own two feet. He picked her up again, running just as another guard shot an arrow at them.

“M-Mara, like the goddess.” she stammering, holding on to him for dear life. She looked up at him, seeing auburn colored hair, neatly brushed back, and a surprisingly calm face. It was like he had done this many time before, and he probably had- there was a black handprint on his robes, the mark of the dark brotherhood. Why would an assassin, a dark brotherhood member, who swore to kill without hesitation, save her?

He continued to run down the road, until they had finally come across a carriage with a large box in the back. The man quickly set Mara down, got the top off the box, and revealed what seemed to be a stone coffin. He forced it open, revealing an old, shriveled up corpse. Mara was disgusted by the sight, but further disgusted by what he said next.

“Get in.” he said, “But be careful. Before they come back!”

Mara shook her head, stepping back. “N...N-No! Are you crazy?! Th-that’s completely disrespectful!!” she stammered. However, he hardly gave her a choice.

“We don’t have time for this!!” he snapped, trying to pick her up again. She refused, getting out of his grip just as he tried, and darted down the road. She knew she wouldn’t get far, and she was second-guessing how good that voice was. Perhaps it simply wanted to use her for something more terrible than death.

Then, she had finally come across a large lake, with a boat off in the distance.  She hardly knew how to swim, but at the point, she didn’t have a choice.

She ran in, but it wasn’t long until she lost her posture, sinking down below the water...as the voice spoke to her once again.

Cicero...such a humble servant...