The Dark Brotherhood: A Listener's Tale, The tale of what it takes to become the merciless Listener of the Dark Options

[allshallfade]

This is a fanfiction that I started over a year ago as of last month, and it is something that I am still working on today. It's basically the storyline of the Dark Brotherhood, told from the point of view of a cold-hearted woman who enjoys nothing more then to kill. I know that the plot is not original, but I feel that the character's thoughts and emotions, along with her interaction with other character's, sets it apart from the blandness of the plot. Anyways, I know it's long, but please, just bare with me!

If you read and review, I can't thank you enough- it really means the world to me. I hope you enjoy!

Chapter One: The Old Woman and the Cottage

I killed the old woman. I don’t know what made me do it; I still can’t understand it to this day. I suppose that this is where my tale starts; where my life gets interesting. Oh boy, does it get interesting. And I don’t generally mean that in a good way. You’ll see. I had been hunting down up North, by the Nordic-fashioned city of Bruma, when I felt a presence nearby. I guess you could call it a sixth sense. I crouched down, bow in hand, and slowly crept over a small hill. When I reached the top, I saw a little cottage nestled in the mountains, with a patch of flat land serving as a single person farm. An old woman was there, working in the farm, raking down new rows for what looked like fresh potato plants.

How could I know then that this house would be the location of so much pain and misery in my future? Looking back, I wished that I had simply turned around and never glanced back. However, my instinctual curiosity, useful in so many aspects of my life, was my downfall here. I sat to watch the woman, mystified, as I hadn’t seen a human, elf, or beast race for nearly a week. I had become a rather solitary being, making my living off of the land, sleeping where I felt it was safe enough, whether it be cave or slab of rock.

Squinting against the setting sun, I saw the woman’s graying hair and wrinkling face, her movements obviously displaying the aching and grinding of her old bones. After a moment of her work, she straightened, shielding her eyes from the sun with a callused hand. She must have decided that it was enough for the day, as she collected her supplies and headed toward her thatched-roof cottage in the slow, shuffling, achy pace of the elderly.

I don’t know what came over me at that moment, but I suddenly had the overwhelming desire to kill the woman, to drive my dagger into her flesh. I felt a sudden…rage at her, such inexplicable anger that I needed to act upon. I’m not sure if my fury was against her, or against the world. But at that moment, all the feeling I had in me was focused on her. I have had such urges before, to strike, to kill, but always in public, surrounded by many. My impulses had always been controlled by necessity. Now, however, I was in the middle of nowhere. I guess that’s the reason I couldn’t stop myself.

And before I knew what was happening, everything around me became silent. Time seemed to slow as my senses were heightened. Her breathing was a slow, rhythmic rasping in my ears, and an eternity seemed to take place in the dull thudding of two of her footsteps. I started to feel faint as I tried to control the desire to stop the noise of her footsteps, to eternally end the sound of her breath. I was fighting a loosing battle. After what seemed an eternity, but was in reality were seconds, I had put my bow on my back and was reaching for my dagger.

The sound of my dagger sliding out of its sheath was intoxicating; it made my lust for the kill even stronger. I started to creep toward her, my worn leather boots padded against the ground as I silently trod upon leaves and twigs. As I grew closer to the woman, my pace increased, until I was nearly sprinting at her on bent legs. My heartbeat was like a war drum, pounding out a fast steady beat, making my head felt like it was going to explode any second. It was overwhelming; I had to end it. When I was within yards of the old woman, I stood straight, getting into a full-out sprint at her.

She didn’t hear me until I plunged my dagger into her back. With a choking gasp, she spun about to face me, her eyes meeting mine. I saw them fill with a fleeting look of surprise, before quickly turning to one of intense pain and fear. However, her pain did not last long, as I leaned behind her and yanked my dagger out of her back, and slitting her throat in one smooth motion.

She crumbled to the floor on her very own doorstep, breathed her last gasping, gurgling breath, and became eternally still. I stood over the dead body for a moment, panting slightly. Once my heart rate had started to slow, and my senses seemed to return to normal, the reality of what I had just done crashed into me, physically staggering me.

My eyes widened, and I slumped against the side of the cottage. I still held my dagger, glistening in the fading light. It was smeared with a line of blood, dripping noiselessly to the ground, joining the pool of red liquid forming steadily at my feet. Staring at her motionless body, I felt a strong mix of emotions. First, I felt disgust in myself, but I also felt an almost disturbing sense of pride, and…fulfillment. My desire for blood had been filled; the desire I had held back for so long. I had killed livestock and beast for food, but this was different. This was…murder. However, as quickly as it had come, the disgust started to ebb away, and a small smile formed on my face as I stood up straight again.

At that moment, I felt a prickling sensation on the back of my neck; a feeling that someone was watching me, that someone had seen what I had done. I whipped around, dagger at the ready, but saw nothing. The sun was nearly lost behind the mountains to the West, but there was still enough light for me to see the landscape around me in detail. I shuffled in full circle, but could pick out no one in the surrounding forest. Even so, I still could not loose the feeling of being watched, so I kept my dagger and bow at easy access.

Casting one last suspicious look into the immediate area, I turned back toward the body. As I looked at her corpse again, I felt another overwhelming feeling of disgust, but this time not at what I had done- now at the fact that I didn’t feel any remorse for my actions; no pity for the defenseless old woman. I wanted to- I genuinely wanted to feel bad, to feel guilty. But I didn’t. I…couldn’t. Sighing, pushing the unsettling thoughts out of my mind, I squatted down and started to search her for valuables.

I found about 4 gold, which was quite a sum to me at that time, and a letter to some gift-giving service listing the locations of all of her kids. I pocketed the list, not really sure why. I also found the key to her cottage. I looked back up at the sky, finding that the sun had almost disappeared, so I decided to spend the night in her house. I dragged her body into the tall grass surrounding the home before slipping the key into the lock and opening the cottage door.

Upon entering, I found that the old woman (Perennia Draconis, according to the letter) had a dog when it started barking incessantly, but it seemed as ancient as she had been. I tossed it some old boar meat from my pack, and he eagerly started gnawing at it, completely forgetting my presence. I quickly scanned the interior, looking for valuables, but not finding much. According to the sign over the mantle, the place was called “Applewatch”.

My stomach growled, so I looked into my pack and pulled out some venison and various vegetables I had stored for my trip. I cooked them in the fire place, petting the content dog while stoking the fire. Looking back, I didn’t even feel uneasy spending such a pleasant time in the home of the woman I had just mercilessly slain. My thoughts at the time were only of the food I was cooking. After my meal, I felt a wave of fatigue sweep over me, so I stripped out of my leather greaves, boots and cuirass and pulled on a long coarse shirt to sleep in. I slipped my dagger under my pillow, placed my quiver and bow on the bedside table, and slid into the warm recesses of the covers. It was extremely comfortable, compared to my recent sleeping arrangements, which had consisted of rock slabs and leaf piles. I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.

I was woken not four hours later when my blood seemed to turn to ice, the air still and silent. In one fluid movement I had sat bolt upright and pulled my dagger out from under my pillow, holding it menacingly out into the dark room. I sat there, panting for second, trying to peer through the complete darkness, when a deep, sinister voice spoke to my right.

“You sleep rather soundly for murderer. That’s good. You’ll need a clear conscience for what I’m about to propose.”

I leapt to the left, pulling the covers off the bed as I swung my dagger wildly into midair, attempting to defend myself. I pressed my back against the wall, letting my eyes adjust to the darkness. Across the bed I saw a man, clothed and hooded in the darkest black. His deep brown eyes were studying, assessing every move I made, always calculating. He seemed to be almost…amused at my reaction. His lips were curled up ever so slightly at the corners, and his intense eyes were gleaming with laughter.

“Who-who are you?” I demanded, mentally assessing my options. Listen to him talk, charge and attack, or run. Talking seemed to be the most favorable of my options; he looked quite skilled with a blade, and his athletic form could be seen even through his robes and the way he moved; he could probably outrun me. Besides, I wanted to see what he had to say. He was…intriguing.

“I am Lucien Lachance, a speaker for the Dark Brotherhood. And you, you are a killer. A taker of life. A harvester of souls. Your work, your deathcraft, pleases the Night Mother. And so, I come to you with an offer. An opportunity to join our rather…unique family.”

I had no idea what to say. How did he know I had murdered the woman? And how had he known so quickly? Could he have been the presence I sensed after her death? But how had he known I was going to kill her? And what- My internal bombarding of questions was cut off as he continued, looking at me in a way that seemed to convey that he knew exactly what my thoughts were.

“So, I have your rapt attention. Splendid. Now listen closely. On the Green Road to the North of Bravil lies the Inn of Ill Omen. There you will find a man named Rufio. He is an old man, his body frail, and he sleeps his days away. You could kill him before he woke, if you so chose. In whatever way you choose, kill him, and your initiation into the Dark Brotherhood will be complete. Do this, and the next time you sleep in a location I deem secure, I will reveal myself once more, bearing the love of your new family.”

I thought about his last statement, and some of the possible implications one could interpret from it, and was suddenly extremely aware of the shortness of my shirt, and how much my legs were showing. I colored slightly, embarrassed at my own thoughts, which were most likely completely unfounded. He continued on, seemingly undeterred by my silence.

“Please accept this token from the Dark Brotherhood. It is a virgin blade, and thirsts for blood. May it serve you well, as does your silence,” he said with his slight smile, handing me a gold-decorated dagger.

‘The Blade of Woe’ was inscribed on its gold and black hilt. I stood digesting this

for a moment, before I looked him in the eye and said questioningly:

“The Dark Brotherhood?”

“Have you not heard of the Dark Brotherhood? Of the remorseless guild of paid assassins and homicidal cutthroats? Join us, and you’ll find the Dark Brotherhood to be all that, and so much more. We are, more than anything, a union of like-minded individuals. We kill for profit, for enjoyment, and for the glory of the Dread Father Sithis. We are a family, with bonds forged in blood… and death.”

Deep in the recesses of my mind I found a distant memory; of my early teen years, working at the linen shop with my aunt. The daily routine involved scrubbing fabric clean in the back room, while gossiping with the fellow workers. I remember my aunt leaning conspiratively over her scrub board, eyes wide and her voice fearful:

“They say that when you murder someone, the Dark Brotherhood visits you in your sleep. It’s how they recruit new members.”

The understanding must have shown on my face, for he nodded briskly and said:

“Now, I bid you farewell. I do hope we’ll meet again soon.” And with one last lingering look, in which he took in my scantly dressed form with a slightly raised eyebrow and an amused gleam in his eye, Lucien Lachance vanished. Literally. The door to the cottage opened and closed, seemingly on its own accord, and a cold draft sweeping into the room. The sounds of night filled the room, embracing me.

I stood for a moment, perhaps more, rigid in astonishment. I realized now that I had often heard of the Dark Brotherhood, but these were always tales of evil and heartless murder. And I had just been asked to join them. To ‘join their family’, as Lachance had put it. Did that make me evil? Was I evil? I thought of the body lying cold outside in the tall grass, and still didn’t feel a pang of shame or guilt. I realized that I was just that; a cold, heartless murderer. Maybe not evil, but I was a cold-blooded murderer. I wasn’t ready to admit myself as evil. Not yet.

When Lachance had spoken of them, he made the Brotherhood sound like they were…close. A family. A loving family of cold-blooded assassins. The idea seemed so preposterous that I almost laughed out loud. My first inclination was to forget the whole prospect- to never even go near the Inn of Ill Omen. Best to disregard the whole thing. But as I lowered myself back onto the bed, picking up the comforter and pulling it over my body, I couldn’t stop replaying Lucien’s words in my thoughts.

For my whole life I had felt almost overpowering urges to kill, to murder. But I had always resisted, always controlled myself. At sometimes I had barely contained myself, but I had never given in. Until now. Since my desires did not seem to be shared by any I knew, I had always considered myself a freak of nature, a one of a kind outcast. I felt that my only option was to just conform to fit in with society. But now it seemed that there were others like me; those who embraced their gifts for murder. And these people wanted to accept me as one of their own.

And what about this ‘Speaker’, this Lucien Lachance? The way he spoke of murder- he seemed to feel the same way that I had felt about killing the old woman. It was…intoxicating. I had not even accepted his offer, yet he was already treating me as family. No one had ever treated me like that, not since my aunt died when I was young. Part of me wanted to see this “Lucien Lachance” again…in the short time I had met him he had made an impression.

Maybe I would just go and check out the Inn, to see what was there. Just to see where the man lived, I thought to myself. The rest of the night continued in the same fashion, with internal arguments and self-objections. Finally, after a sleepless and thought filled night, I set out at dawn for the Inn, fill of determination and purpose. I was going to kill that man. I was going to join the Dark Brotherhood.

[allshallfade]

“It’s true…” We all took sips from our drinks, a heavy silence setting in for a moment. I was wondering what else this Legion officer may know when Andy spoke up again.

“Speaking of bold assassins, Kev here, he was there the night of Adamus Phillida’s murder! You know who he was, right?” Andy looked at me eagerly.

After an uncomfortable moment I responded. “Yes, of course- everyone knew of Adamus Phillida, he was quite the hero! I read about the killing in the Courier as well. Absolutely terrible.” A sour taste had entered my mouth, but I worked hard to keep my face straight.

“It was indeed,” Kev said, anger brewing beneath his words. “And if I ever get my hands on that mother of mine that did it, oh by the Nine, I’d make her pay!”

“They’re sure it was a woman?!” I asked, hoping the unease in my voice would be surprise to their ears.

“Yes,” Kev growled. “Oooh, yes.” My eyes widened as he talked. “They confirmed that she got to Phillida by seducing his good-for-nothing bodyguard, and after that had been done she drugged the honoured user to keep him out of the way for the kill. Weak, pathetic, cheap…” he continued to mutter insults under his breath, and I found myself starting to become genuinely insulted. Rather than become angry, however, I decided to see if I could find out a bit more from this rather open officer.

“So… do they know anything else about her? Are they any closer to finding her, so Phillida’s soul can finally be avenged?” I asked carefully.

“Well, to tell you the truth, there haven’t really been any leads, despite what we in the Legion lead the public to believe. We know she’s Dark Brotherhood, and have a vague description of her from a few sources, but they’re not really helpful,” he said moodily. “But there is one thing- there’s rumor of a dark horse, black as night, with eyes that shine red like blood! It may have nothing to do with her, but this horse has been connected with several high-profile murders, and is said to be an omen of impending and painful death…”

I fidgeted a little in my seat, just as Andy let out a shiver of fear- I was thinking of Shadowmere standing in the open just outside the inn… Becoming more nervous with everything this Kev told me, I pressed on, hoping I wouldn’t find out anything that should cause me more anxiety.

“Well, has she been connected with anything else? Any other murders or whatnot?” I questioned.

“There’s dozens of things she could be responsible for, but no, nothing direct yet. But I’m just waiting for the day…”

“He’s gonna kill her himself, Kev is! She’ll die by his blade!” Andy laughed from behind the counter.

My internal sigh of relief, and Kev’s attempt at a comeback, were both cut short when a loud sound came from outside the inn, followed by an indecipherable shout. We all stopped what we were doing and listened as the sound drew closer- we could now tell it was frenzied footsteps. Another shout came, and then the door to the inn banged open.

It was an Imperial Courier, his riding clothes loose around his thin body, and he was breathing heavily. Kev didn’t even have time to reach for his sword (naturally I already had a throwing knife in my palm) before the man delivered his message.

“The Horse of Death is outside!” Everyone froze, and I felt my heart freeze and my blood run cold. “It’s there, I swear it, its red eyes could be seen from miles away! The Horse of Death!” he shouted, looking at us in horror.

“What are you talking about, my good man? You must be mad!” Andy was the first to reply, his voice flustered.

“It’s there, I swear it- I’m not mad! It’s just sitting there, plain as day…”

There was a short silence where everyone the room breathed hard, the courier so much so that he seemed incapable of speech for a moment.

“It doesn’t make any sense,” Andy said slowly, but there was the feel of wavering conviction in his voice now. “I mean, there hasn’t been any guests here, minus old Kev, for near a week! Well, except for…”

He turned towards me, and everyone’s eyes followed his. There was a silence, where the comprehension of what that must mean set in on everyone’s faces. That there could be no other possible explanation. That I must have brought of Horse of Death. That I must be a killer.

Well, I guess it was time for improvisation.

Before anyone had the chance to move I had flicked my throwing dagger at the courier still standing in the doorway, and not even waiting to watch it hit my target I swiveled back towards Kev. His hand was at his sword, he was starting to pull it from its scabbard- but I leapt from my stool and pushed the sword forcefully back into its sheath while my other hand went to the Blade of Woe at my side, pulling it from my belt and slicing across Kev’s throat in the blink of an eye. An instant later blood was spurting from the open wound in all directions, spraying up to the low ceiling, soaking me with the scarlet liquid and spewing all over half of Andy’s face.

He let out a shout of horror and disgust, raising shaking hands to his face, wet with his friend’s blood. I stepped back out of the flow of blood, watching as Kev’s body finally slumped to the floor. I looked back at Andy and saw that he had also fallen to the floor, into a small puddle of blood that formed beneath him, slipping and sliding in the pool while whimpering in horror…

Deciding I could ignore him for a moment I turned back towards the door, and saw with a certain satisfaction that the courier lay lifeless on the ground, my throwing knife stuck dead center between his eyes. Perfect.

I looked back to the mess that Kev had created and stood over the bar counter, watching as Andy pushed himself into a corner, desperately trying to move away from the pool of blood. Looking around at the scene again, I shook my head sardonically. So much for subtlety… but no matter- now it was time to finish it…

In one easy motion I leapt up over the counter, landing with a soft splash in the sticky warm blood of Kev. Andy gave a small shriek, pushing himself away and scrambling for something in the shelf above his head. I took a step closer but drew back when he found what he was looking for- a small, rusty iron dagger that he waved about wildly, shouting hysterically. I gave a dark smile at his efforts, and waited for just a moment before I leapt forward quick as a panther and knocked the dagger aside, letting it slide far out of his reach. He watched it go with horror-struck eyes, and I laughed darkly at him.

“How… how could you? Who-who are you?!” he sputtered, pushing back against the wood behind him as through trying to burrow away, to escape me. I laughed harder as I gripped the Blade of Woe in my right hand, advancing on him with no second thought, no hesitation. I watched as he saw the determination in my eyes- as he felt my purpose, my resolve.

“Please, no, please don’t kill me!” he exclaimed as I took another step closer. “What are you doing… why?!”

I was just another step away now, so close- I could smell his fear, it was infectious, his desperation, the disbelief that this could really be happening, here, now… I loved it. I soaked in his terror as I was taking the final step now, my dagger poised, my blood pumping hard in my own veins, a dull pounding in my ears as all else was cancelled out except for the elation of a kill- nothing could stop me, nothing- but then;

“Please, have mercy!”

At these words, everything froze. My step, my thought, my breath, maybe even my heart- in that second, it all stopped. Mercy?

Andy was panting on the ground, his eyes just barely open as he watched my stillness cautiously, incredulously… hopefully.

But I was not seeing him now. Instead I saw Ocheeva, bent over the body of her dead twin, her disbelief tormenting- I saw M’raaj Dar, his fear at my attack too real- I saw Vicente, the hope in his eyes as he gave me a choice… but then the grim acceptance as I chose the path I thought I hadto make- and then I saw Nels, the poor Nord drunkard, as he asked me so long ago to make it end quick, to have mercy… and I had given him mercy.

But not the others. Those who had deserved it more than any I had been unable to grant it to. And now this useless creature, cowering beneath me, was asking for it.

“Mercy?” My voice was ice. “What, my dear Andy, would you make you think that you are worthy of mercy?”

“I-I… I-” he sputtered, the blood of Kev spilling off of his soaked lips.

“I-I-I-what?!” I demanded, eyes flashing fire. His own eyes were wide, looking up at me pathetically, weakly, miserably- he was not strong, he was not brave, he was not even intelligent- he was nothing!

“That’s right, Andy.” I bent down, my face inches from his own, my eyes winterfrost. “You are not worthy.”

He gasped, sobbing between breaths. I shook my head disgustedly, and stood back up to my full height.

“Besides, there have been many before who have deserved mercy far more than you, and I did not give it to them. You, you are weak, pathetic, cowering in your little corner… no. I will not show you mercy.” I slipped my dagger back into its sheath, and then leaned forward to take his hand in mine.

“I will kill you, just as I killed your brother-” and in one fluid motion I snapped my wrist forward, bringing his hand with mine. All four fingers cracked and bent in ways they should not while he screamed in pain. I took his other hand.

“Just as I killed your sister-” I snapped the fingers in this hand as well, letting his arms fall and watching as he cradled the limp hands against his body. I needed more…

“Just as I killed Adamus Phillida-” I swung upwards with the base of my palm and struck the underside of his nose, feeling the satisfying crunch of bone crumbling beneath my hand. He gasped, his horror not just from the pain anymore.

Breathing hard, I watched his feeble shudders of pain, how he looked up at me with such betrayal- and his eyes were suddenly not his anymore, they were those of Teinaava, my fallen brother, who had looked at me in that same way… it wasn’t fair!

And in a burst of anger, grief, and something else I should not admit, I struck forwards again.

“Just as I killed… my family-” I choked out as I kicked in each of his knees with ferocity I had never felt before, his legs snapping back in unnatural angles.

There was liquid on my face that was not blood as I saw him fall to his side, screaming in agony. His arm was flailing at his side, out of his control- I stamped his elbow, his arm bending and cracking back, before becoming still. A new cry rose from him, greater than all before, and he tried to roll to his side- but I pushed him back up to face me, lowering my own face to inches from his as I said-

“Just as I killed your mother, so long ago-” I smiled at his bloody, incredulous face as I reached down and punched him straight in the middle of his chest, where the two ribs met. I felt a bone crack beneath my strike, and his eyes widened as his breath stopped, sucked back into his chest. He looked at me in horror and complete agony, and I could feel that he wished it would end. His eyes had that look of acceptance, of the final realization that it was over, he would die, and he wanted not more pain. The look told me that he wanted it to be over- to be over for good. But no, I would not give him that satisfaction, not yet…

Now I kicked him once again, this time straight up and in between his legs- but he did not even cry out, and I saw as he struggled to breathe but nothing would come in, only escaping his chest, and whenever he tried to refill his emptying lungs it was just gasps of nothing, a weak strangled sound emanating from his insides. I did not have long now. It was going to be over soon…

“And just… as I will kill… your sister!” I finished, letting loose a flood of attacks, punching into his left kidney, his right kidney, his jaw, his eyes, his spine- anything I could hit I hit, but always at the points that I knew would cause the most pain, the most torture, here in his final seconds….

I was kneeling now, drenched in the blood of Kev- and now of Andy, the warm scarlet pouring down my face and body, soaking me to my very core, seeping through my skin and restoring my own life’s liquid as I took his. I could feel his death coming, it was very near, he would not last much longer- but I kept striking, kept crying out, kept taking, kept showing that I did not have mercy, that I was pitiless, ruthless… and that I was not going to stop. Not for anything, not for anyone.

* * *

Three days later, when two travelers stopped at the Drunken Dragon Inn looking for a soft bed and warm food, they found a scene they swore was one out of nightmares. Blood still dripping everywhere from ceiling to floor, two dead Legion officers, the smell of the decay, the buzz of flies- and a corpse behind the counter beaten to such a bloody pulp that it had become utterly unidentifiable. If it had not been for the sawed out heart, officials may never have been able to be completely sure that it was, in fact, the body of Andreas Draconis.

* * *

In a place far away, where peace and tranquility were the prevailing atmosphere, Lucien Lachance sat idly for the first time in what seemed like weeks. He had arrived at Shadeleaf Copse not long after he’d lost his tracker, and had quickly found somewhere to set camp while waiting for Adrienne. After a quick survey of the land he had climbed up the hill to the North of the pool and made use of a huge boulder at its crest, large enough to conceal a small tent and fire from below. The best part of the spot was that it still offered a view of the reason he appreciated this place.

Jutting out of the small pool below him was a large rock, sticking straight up into the sky, standing alone, defiant- at first seeming to destroy the beauty of this place, but in Lucien’s eyes that rebellious stone worked only to enhance the location’s splendor, making the landscape all the more magnificent.

The feelings that this setting evoked were what had caused Lucien to choose this as his meeting place with Adrienne. It was perfect- isolated, dark, and beautiful, concepts that he was sure his Silencer would be able to appreciate, and understand. This could be among the many things they needed to discuss, and although he would never admit, Lucien was rather apprehensive about her arrival. It was past twilight now, and the Speaker was sure he would be seeing Adrienne this coming morning.

Trying to turn his thoughts to more immediate ones than the impending meeting, he focused on tending to his small campfire, pushing sticks aside to make the flame stronger and warmer. It was starting to get chilly in the nights, he thought as he tightened his cloak about him and pulled his hood down further over his face.

As he was doing so a small but lethal ember suddenly sprung out from the flames with a crack and landed dangerously close to his saddlebag, which he’d left on the ground near the fire earlier. In a quick motion he smothered the little red-hot coal with a handful of dirt, and then moved his saddlebag further away from the fire and into the tent, hoping to keep it safe from any more stray sparks for the night- for he had important things in that bag.

As he did so, the very parcel he was thinking of unraveled a bit, letting a small back petal slide to the ground. With concern, Lucien opened the saddlebag and took out the parcel, gently but fully unwrapping the thin deer hide.

He inspected its contents with steady alchemist hands for a moment before he knelt back, giving a satisfied sigh. There was only one petal missing. He wrapped up the parcel once again, just as gently- careful not keep the blossom inside in as pristine condition as he was confident it was now.

For Lucien had brought something to give to Adrienne when she arrived besides the customary 500 septim reward she would be expecting. He placed the parcel back into the saddlebag and smiled as he rubbed the single escaped black petal between his gloved fingers. It was so delicate, so beautiful, but so dangerous… if ingested, the nectar from a Black Rose could cause paralysis- or even death, if prepared correctly, as Lucien well knew.

“So fitting…” he murmured, a dark smile at his lips. “So perfect…”

And he hoped it would remain so; he could guess that the rare flower would stay in this unspoiled condition for at least a day longer before it would start to wilt and decay… but Lucien Lachance was quite confident that his beloved dark Silencer would come to claim her gift long before he would have to worry about that.