I'm Really Not the Dragonborn.

Ibnor took his time observing the familiar, yet somehow new, landscape. A shiver ran down his spine, a jarring mix of familiarity and foreignness. It was as if he were seeing a reflection of a life he both knew intimately and had long forgotten. He pushed the feeling aside, his focus drawn to a specific point in the woods, a barely discernible path leading deeper into the trees.

The path twisted and turned, eventually leading to a sheer rock face. There, almost hidden in the shadows, was a black door. It seemed to absorb the light, radiating an unnatural stillness. As Ibnor approached, a disembodied voice echoed from the door's surface.

"What is the music of life?"

"Silence, my brother," Ibnor replied after deciding to take his chance.

The door swung inward, revealing a dimly lit passage. The sounds of raucous laughter spilled out, drawing Ibnor further into the depths of the Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary. A smile formed on his face, a little gesture of a paid gamble.

As he entered the main chamber, the scene before him was exactly as he… remembered. 

"Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!" Arnbjorn's booming laughter filled the air.

"Ha ha ha ha! Again! Again! Do the part where he tries to buy you some candy." Veezara chuckled along. 

Babette, with a chillingly sweet voice, began her gruesome impersonation. 

"Ooh, you are such a pretty little girl. Would the sweetie like a sweetie? Oh yes, how about some chocolate? Oh yes, please, kind sir. My mama and papa left me all alone, and I'm so very hungry. I know a shortcut to the candy shop. Through this alley. Oh ya, very good. Very good. My, it is dark down here. Oh, but you are so beautiful. Such a lovely smile. Your teeth… your teeth! No! Aggghh!!" 

"Oh Babette, but you are so wicked," Gabriella's dry comment followed.

The conversation continued, flowing exactly as Ibnor… anticipated. Festus Krex recounted a near-disastrous spell, Arnbjorn boasted of a slain Khajiit monk, and everyone erupted in laughter. 

Then, Ibnor stepped fully into the room. The laughter abruptly ceased. All eyes turned to him, a stranger in their midst. The air crackled with tension.

"Who… who are you?" Astrid's voice was sharp, laced with suspicion.

Ibnor didn't answer immediately. He scanned the room, taking in each assassin. He could sense their surprise, their confusion. This was not a contract. This was something… different.

"I am here," Ibnor finally spoke, his voice resonating with a strange authority, "because you have lost your way."

A low growl rumbled from Arnbjorn. "Lost our way? We are the Dark Brotherhood! We know our purpose."

"Do you?" Ibnor countered, his gaze sweeping over the assembled assassins. "Centuries without a Listener. You are assassins for hire, nothing more. You have abandoned the Night Mother."

The room was silent. Ibnor's words struck a nerve. He could see the doubt flickering in their eyes. He pressed his advantage.

"I offer you a new path. A new purpose. Serve me, and I can help to show you your true calling."

This was too much. The tension exploded. Arnbjorn roared, charging forward with his battleaxe.

"You dare?! You will die for that!"

The fight began. Ibnor moved with blinding speed, his mastery over combat in motion. He sidestepped Arnbjorn's initial charge, a mass of muscles and steel, and with a lightning-fast strike, he targeted his wrist. The impact, though not intended to break bones, was enough to loosen Arnbjorn's grip. The Iron Battleaxe of Chills clattered across the stone floor, the sudden silence amplifying the tension in the room. Before Arnbjorn could recover, Ibnor unleashed a perfectly timed Unrelenting Force shout.

"FUS!"

The force of the shout slammed the man into a sturdy wooden table. The table splintered under the impact, sending shards of wood flying. Arnbjorn groaned, momentarily stunned.

The other assassins didn't hesitate. Nazir, ever the professional, drew his scimitar and lunged with a barrages of swift cuts and slashes. Veezara remained near the back of the chamber, his posture relaxed but alert, observing the fight with an unnervingly still gaze. He seemed to be cataloging Ibnor's every move, every strike. 

Gabriella, a master of stealth, vanished into the shadows, her footsteps inaudible, only the faint shimmer of displaced air betraying her movements. Festus Krex, his face contorted in a snarl, began chanting, his hands crackling with magical energy. Even Babette joined the fray, darting forward with surprising agility, a wickedly sharp dagger appearing in her hand.

Ibnor was prepared. His senses, honed to near perfection, allowed him to anticipate Gabriella's movements. He could almost "feel" her presence shifting behind him, predicting her attacks before they materialized. As Nazir's scimitar flashed towards his throat, Ibnor raised his arm, deflecting the blow. The scimitar met his gauntlet with a resounding clang. The force of the impact reverberated through his arm, but his Enhanced Condition allowed him to withstand it without flinching.

A volley of firebolts erupted from Festus's outstretched hands, streaking towards Ibnor. He reacted instantly, using his agility to weave between the fiery projectiles. The air grew hot around him, the smell of burnt hair filling his nostrils, but he remained untouched. One bolt, however, veered off course and struck the already damaged table, setting the splintered wood ablaze.

Babette, taking advantage of the momentary distraction, lunged from the side, her dagger aimed at Ibnor's leg. He sensed her approach at the last moment, twisting his body to avoid the strike. The dagger grazed his thigh, tearing his clothing but failing to penetrate his skin. He retaliated with a swift backhand, not a full blow, but enough to send the young vampire tumbling back.

The battle raged, the sanctuary echoing with the sounds of clashing steel, magical explosions, and the crackling flames. Ibnor moved with a calculated precision, his strikes aimed at pressure points and nerve clusters, designed to incapacitate rather than kill – a stark contrast to the brutal efficiency the Brotherhood usually employed. He used his superior speed and strength to disarm Nazir, sending his scimitar spinning across the floor. He then used a quick series of strikes to subdue Gabriella, targeting her arms and legs, rendering her unable to move.

Festus, seeing his allies falling, unleashed a more powerful spell, a swirling vortex of energy that crackled with raw power. Ibnor, realizing the potential danger to the sanctuary itself, used his Thu'um once more.

"FUS!"

This time, it was not a wide area, but a carefully controlled burst of force directed at the vortex, disrupting the spell and causing it to dissipate harmlessly.

Finally, only Arnbjorn remained, having recovered from the initial Unrelenting Force. He roared, charging forward with his battleaxe. Ibnor sidestepped the initial attack, targeting his midsection. The axe clattered to the floor, and Arnbjorn was again sent crashing into a table. But as he struggled to rise, a change began to ripple through his form. His bones shifted and elongated, his muscles bulged, and thick fur sprouted across his skin. A guttural growl erupted from his throat as he transformed into a hulking werewolf.

Astrid, who had been observing the initial exchange with a calculating gaze, stepped forward, drawing her own blade.

"Arnbjorn, enough!" she commanded, her voice cutting through the rising tension.

But the werewolf, consumed by primal rage, paid her no heed, lunging at Ibnor. The other assassins, momentarily stunned, scattered.

Astrid, realizing her husband was beyond reason, stepped back, her blade still drawn. She watched the ensuing clash with a calculating gaze, assessing Ibnor's movements, his speed, his apparent mastery of both blade and Thu'um. She needed to determine… Was he a threat to be eliminated, or something else entirely?

The transformed Arnbjorn was a fury incarnated with claws and teeth. He lunged at Ibnor, a terrifying display of raw power. Ibnor, though momentarily distracted by the transformation, regained his composure quickly. His enhanced condition allowed him to match the werewolf's speed and strength. He dodged Arnbjorn's attacks, using his agility to avoid the creature's powerful claws and snapping jaws.

Then, Ibnor was gone. One moment he stood before Arnbjorn, deflecting a swipe, the next… simply not there. No blur, no shadow, just empty air where he had been. Confusion rippled through the assassins. Even Astrid faltered, her eyes darting around the room, searching for him.

Babette, however, narrowed her eyes, a faint frown appeared on her brows. She seemed to be tracking something unseen, her gaze fixed on a point just behind Veezara. But before she could even offer a warning, Ibnor reappeared there with startling speed, delivering a swift strike to Veezara's pressure points, incapacitating him instantly. Then, he vanished again.

The fight intensified. The sanctuary echoed with the werewolf's roars, the clang of steel, and the crackling of magical energy. Ibnor intermittent disappearances and reappearances sowed chaos among the assassins. He would materialize behind one of them, deliver a quick, incapacitating blow, and then vanish again, leaving them disoriented and fearful.

Arnbjorn, enraged and confused by the disappearing act, turned his rage on Astrid, snarling and snapping at her. She nimbly dodged his attacks, but a glancing blow from his powerful paw sent her stumbling back.

Seeing Astrid in danger, Ibnor reappeared directly behind the werewolf. He leaped onto a nearby table, using it as a springboard to launch himself towards Arnbjorn. He then delivered a powerful kick to the werewolf's chest, sending the creature sprawling across the floor. Before the werewolf could recover, Ibnor pinned him down, using his weight and strength to hold him in place.

Astrid, regaining her footing, approached cautiously. She looked at Ibnor, a mixture of surprise, anger, and grudging respect in her eyes. The other assassins, seeing their comrade subdued, lowered their weapons. The tension in the room remained thick, but the immediate threat had passed. Ibnor, breathing heavily, looked down at the struggling werewolf. He had proven his dominance, not through brute force alone, but through skill, agility, and the unsettling use of his invisibility. His gaze then shifted to Astrid, waiting for her reaction.

The silence was broken by Astrid, who had finally recovered from her shock. She looked at Ibnor, her eyes filled with a mix of anger and fear. 

"Who are you?" she demanded, her voice trembling.

Ibnor turned to her, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "I am Ibnor," he said, "and I am here to offer you a new path, a new purpose."

Astrid's eyes narrowed. "And what purpose is that?" she asked, her voice laced with suspicion.

Ibnor's smile widened, a glint of something sharper in his eyes. "Does the name… Ibnor… ring any bells?"

A ripple of unease spread through the room. Nazir frowned, his brow furrowed in concentration. Gabriella's eyes widened slightly, a flicker of recognition in their depths. Even Babette's playful demeanor shifted to something more serious, her gaze intense.

Then, it clicked. A hushed whisper went through the ranks. "Ibnor… the Lord of Helgen…"

The name was infamous, a legend whispered in taverns and around campfires. The Lord who had risen from nothing, who had commanded armies and carved out a small but powerful domain. The Lord who had fallen as suddenly as he had risen, leaving behind only rumors and speculation.

Astrid's eyes widened in disbelief. "You… you're him?"

Ibnor nodded slowly.

"Indeed. And I find myself in… new circumstances. Circumstances that require… capable allies." He gestured to the assembled assassins, his gaze sweeping over each of them. 

"You are skilled. You are discreet. Yet, you are… wasted."

He paused, letting his words sink in. "You squander your talents on petty contracts, on coins that disappear as quickly as they are earned. You are capable of so much more."

"I offer you a different path," Ibnor continued, his voice resonating with authority. "A path of glory. A chance to be part of something… greater. A chance to build something that will endure." He didn't explicitly state his ambition for the throne of Skyrim, but the implication hung heavy in the air. This was not about mere mercenary work; this was about power, about shaping the future of the land.

He turned his attention to Nazir. "You are a master of strategy, Nazir. Your knowledge of tactics and warfare would be invaluable."

Nazir, ever the pragmatist, stroked his beard thoughtfully. "A cause, you say? Not just coin? It's been a long time since the Brotherhood fought for anything other than profit. A change... might be interesting."

Ibnor then looked at Gabriella. "Gabriella, your skills in stealth and infiltration are unmatched. But what are you infiltrating? What secrets are you uncovering? Petty rivalries and minor conspiracies? I offer you access to the highest levels of power, to the hidden agendas that drive empires. You could become the whisper in the ear of kings."

His gaze shifted to Festus. "Festus, your magical talents are extraordinary, yet you confine them to simple spells of death. I offer you access to ancient knowledge, to forgotten magic, to the resources you need to push the boundaries of your craft. You could become a legend, a mage whose name is spoken in awe and fear."

He looked at Arnbjorn who had now turned back into human form. 

"Arnbjorn," Ibnor said, his voice deep and resonant, "your strength is undeniable. Your ferocity is unmatched. But those qualities are being wasted on simple assassinations. I offer you a chance to unleash your power on a grander scale. Imagine commanding legions, leading armies to victory, your name echoing across the battlefields of Skyrim. You could become a legend, a warmaster whose name strikes fear into the hearts of your enemies." Or, alternatively: "I hear whispers of ancient rituals, lost to time, that could grant a warrior true mastery over their inner beast. Such knowledge could be yours, Arnbjorn, if you choose to walk this path with me."

He turned his attention to Veezara. "Veezara," Ibnor continued, his gaze shifting to the stoic Argonian, "your silence speaks volumes. Your ability to move unseen, to infiltrate the most heavily guarded locations, is invaluable. But what are you infiltrating? Petty strongholds and minor outposts? I offer you missions of far greater consequence. You could become the key that unlocks empires, the shadow that disrupts the plans of kings. Furthermore," he adds, noticing Veezara's almost imperceptible twitch, "The plight of your people is known to me, Veezara. By my side, you would wield the influence to protect them, to elevate them to a position of respect within Skyrim."

Finally, he turned to Babette, a subtle smile playing on his lips. "And you, Babette, your… unique talents for persuasion could be used to influence the very course of history. You could manipulate events from the shadows, shaping the world to your will."

A heavy silence fell over the Sanctuary. It wasn't the silence of anticipation, but of dawning comprehension. The air crackled with a newfound tension, thicker than before. Each assassin, in their own way, was processing the implications of Ibnor's words. It wasn't just about a new contract or a new organization. It was about something much, much larger.

Nazir's stroking of his beard slowed, his eyes narrowing as he finally understood the true scale of Ibnor's vision. "Campaigns that determine the fate of nations..." he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. His mind raced, connecting the dots. Armies. Alliances. Conquest. This wasn't about eliminating a few troublesome individuals. This was about war.

Gabriella's earlier excitement was now tempered with a cold, calculating focus. The whisper in the ear of kings… that implied not just influence, but control. Not just secrets, but the power to manipulate entire kingdoms. She glanced at Astrid, a flicker of concern in her eyes. This was far beyond anything the Brotherhood had ever attempted.

A slow, almost unsettling smile spread across Festus's face. He wasn't just envisioning arcane rituals and forgotten tomes. He was seeing himself at the center of momentous events, his magic shaping the very destiny of Skyrim. The implications were intoxicating, terrifying, and utterly irresistible.

Babette's smile, always subtly predatory, sharpened. She understood perfectly. This wasn't about influencing a few merchants or manipulating a local lord. This was about manipulating the levers of power on a grand scale, orchestrating events that would ripple across the land for generations. The sheer scope of it was… delicious.

He returned his gaze to Astrid, his voice regaining its firmness. "I offer you not just a new purpose, but a new identity. You will no longer be mere assassins. You will be architects of a new era, builders of a new order. You will be… my lieutenants." He paused, letting the weight of the word hang in the air. "You will be part of something truly extraordinary."

Astrid looked at the faces of her companions. She saw the ambition in Nazir's eyes, the calculating focus in Gabriella's, the manic gleam in Festus's, and the predatory satisfaction in Babette's. She knew that Ibnor's words had struck a chord. The Brotherhood was indeed fading, its purpose lost, its future uncertain. But this… this was something else entirely. This was a gamble of epic proportions.

She looked back at Ibnor, her expression unreadable. "And what of the Brotherhood?" she asked, her voice low. "What becomes of this Sanctuary, of our traditions, of our… family?"

Ibnor considered her question for a moment, his expression thoughtful. "Change is inevitable, Astrid. The world moves forward, whether we choose to move with it or be swept aside. I do not ask you to abandon everything you hold dear, but to adapt, to evolve."

"This Sanctuary can remain, for now," he continued. "Your traditions can be preserved, within reason. But our focus must shift. We must look beyond petty contracts and embrace a larger purpose. We will operate under a new banner, with a new vision, but the core of the Brotherhood – your family – will remain intact." He paused, his gaze meeting hers. 

"Consider this a… trial period. Work with me, and if you find that this new path does not serve you, you are free to return to your old ways. But I believe you will see the potential in what I offer."

Astrid's gaze narrowed slightly. "A trial period," she repeated, considering the phrase. It offered a degree of control, a way to test Ibnor's promises without fully committing. It was a pragmatic approach, one that appealed to her cautious nature. 

"Very well, Ibnor," she said, her voice regaining its usual firmness. "We will see what this 'new order' of yours entails. But know this: my family's safety and well-being are my priority. If this trial period proves to be a threat to them, our alliance will end, and swiftly."

Ibnor nodded, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "A fair condition, Astrid. I would expect nothing less." He turned to address the other assassins.

"Then let us begin. We have much to discuss, and a world to change." He paused, his gaze sweeping over each of them, a hint of anticipation in his eyes. "As a gesture of good faith, a demonstration of what awaits us, I will show you something in Dawnstar. Something that will solidify the potential of this… partnership."

A murmur rippled through the group. Dawnstar, a remote port city on the northern coast, was hardly a hub of political intrigue. Astrid raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

"Dawnstar? What could possibly be of interest there?"

"Patience, Astrid," Ibnor replied, a playful glint in his eyes. "All will be revealed in due time. All you need to do is follow me. But I ask this of you: remain hidden. Observe, but do not interfere. I intend to demonstrate, in no uncertain terms, the kind of… influence I wield. I want you to witness firsthand what happens when I set my sights on a place. What you see in Dawnstar… will shape our future together." He paused, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

"After all," he added, his voice dropping to a near whisper, "Staying unseen… it's a skill we both appreciate, wouldn't you say?"

A sudden realization dawned on Astrid. The phrase, the knowing tone… it was familiar. She had heard it before, from a different voice, in a different context. A voice that spoke of coins and contracts, of hidden entrances and back alleys. A voice that belonged to…

Her eyes widened slightly as the pieces clicked into place. 

"The Lord of Helgen… and the Guild Master of the Thieves Guild? Impossible!" The thought echoed in Astrid's mind, a discordant note in the symphony of her carefully constructed world. 

Yet, the pieces fit with a chilling precision.It was almost too audacious to believe. But the evidence was there, in the subtle nuances of his speech, in the way he carried himself, in the undeniable air of command that surrounded him.

Astrid's gaze sharpened, her voice low and measured.

"Staying unseen… it's a skill we both appreciate'," she repeated, echoing his words. "A phrase I've heard before… from a certain Guild Master." She paused, watching Ibnor's reaction closely. "A Guild Master who, if I'm not mistaken, has a particular fondness for… acquiring things that others would prefer to keep hidden."

Ibnor's smile widened, a genuine smile this time, devoid of any pretense. He met Astrid's gaze, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"You are perceptive, Astrid," he said, his voice laced with admiration. "More perceptive than I anticipated. It seems our… overlapping areas of expertise extend beyond assassination and stealth."

A collective gasp swept through the room. The other assassins, who had been following the exchange with growing curiosity, now understood. The Lord of Helgen was also the infamous Guild Master of the Thieves Guild. The implications of this revelation were staggering.

Nazir stroked his beard thoughtfully, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Well, this certainly… complicates things," he said, his voice laced with dry humor. "In a most… interesting way."

Gabriella's eyes widened, a mixture of surprise and intrigue in her gaze. "Two organizations… under one leader," she murmured. "The possibilities are… endless."

Festus let out a cackle of delight. "Oh, this is going to be fascinating!" he exclaimed, his eyes gleaming with manic excitement.

Babette simply smiled, a knowing glint in her eyes, as if she had already suspected the truth all along.

Astrid, her mind racing with the implications, finally voiced the question that hung in the air. "This… partnership," she began, her voice carefully measured, "it sounds like more than just occasional collaboration. Are you… considering merging our organizations?"

Ibnor's expression turned serious, his gaze sweeping over the assembled assassins.

"The thought has certainly crossed my mind," he admitted. 

"A unified force, combining the strengths of both the Brotherhood and the Guild, would be a formidable power in Skyrim. However," he continued, his tone becoming more cautious, "I've yet to discuss this with the Guild itself. They've only recently risen back to prominence, and many are fiercely independent. I wouldn't want to jeopardize their hard-won success with a hasty decision. For now," he concluded, "we proceed as allies, exploring the potential of our combined talents. But the possibility of something more… it remains a distinct possibility for the future."

He gestured towards the entrance of the Sanctuary. "Now, let us depart for Dawnstar. There, I will demonstrate the true scope of my… reach. You will remain unseen, observe my methods, and witness how easily a city can be… brought to heel. I will show you, in action, why my leadership is not merely an offer, but an… certainty."