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]

Chapter Four: A Union of Like-Minded Individuals

I decided that I would introduce myself to the other family members, to try and get to know them. I also wanted some advice on my next contract; I needed all the help I could get. I left Vicente’s room and started to climb up the steps. The Khajiit who I had saw on my way down was still there; I walked towards him, but rather warily, remembering his reaction when I walked by before.

“If it isn’t the newest member of the family. Let’s get one thing straight- the Tenets prevent me from killing you. But I don’t have to like you. I’ll sell you equipment, but only because Ocheeva is making me. This family doesn’t need any…outsiders.” He spit out these words, his little yellow eyes flashing with anger. He had a red headband, with tufts of hair sticking out at the sides. His nose was the common for a Khajiit; a very large muzzle, commanding your attention.

As I was trying to think up a response to this rather frank and rude remark, he turned on his heel and strode off; I distinctly heard him mutter under his breath “Foul smelling ape”. Well, that didn’t go to well, I thought to myself. Shaking my head, I resolutely decided I’d disregard the Khajiit and move on and meet the rest of the family. I climbed up the second flight of stairs and into large entry room. There another Argonian standing off to the left, so I headed in his direction.

“I wish to welcome you to this Sanctuary, my newest Sister. My name is Teinaava, and I welcome you to our family, and to this Sanctuary. May you find yourself at home here, in the loving embrace of our Lady the Night Mother,” he said, smiling warmly while shaking my hand. He had a red face, with green stripes under his eyes.

“Thank you so much for being so kind; the sanctuary is amazing...and to think, people search for the Dark Brotherhood hideouts throughout all Cyrodiil, in the most remotest of places, and here is one of them, hidden right in the middle of a town!” I said, lifting my arms and gesturing around the room, smiling lightly.

“Actually, I've heard the Count of Cheydinhal knows about this Sanctuary. But he is offered much gold, as well as... other incentives, to keep his mouth shut,” he said, leaning in conspiratively and grinning mischievously. I smiled widely back, giving a little chuckle.

“How long has the Sanctuary been here?” I asked.

“Vicente joined the Brotherhood 200 years ago, and according to him the Sanctuary was already here,” said Teinaava, smiling as my eyebrows shot up.

“Two hundred…years!” I said incredulously.

“Have you not met him yet? You know that he is a vampire? Vampires live a long, long time,” he said, nodding his head. “You should ask Vicente about it sometime, interesting stuff.”

Teinaava smiled at me one more time, and said that regrettably, he must be going, but that we would speak later. He then strode off, heading for the exit. I thought about our conversation- it had been short, but already it felt so easy, so free, to talk to him. I hadn’t faked any of it; it was all genuine. I had an enjoyable conversation for the first time since my aunt’s death.

Smiling to myself, I stood and decided to find out what was behind the doors off to the right of the room. I was just about to push them open when a big Orc came barging out, nearly knocking me over. I stumbled back, but he stuck a big hand out and pulled me back steadily to my feet.

“There you are!” he boomed. “Welcome! Welcome to the family! I’m Gogron gro-Bolmog. I’d hug you, but Ocheeva told me not to!”

“Uhm, well, glad to meet you too,” I said, rather alarmed by his over excessive welcome.

“Well, if you need anything, just ask!” he rumbled. He had a big green face, with small kind red eyes and laugh lines etched into his features. “I’m normally at the sanctuary, so just look around for me.”

“You like the Sanctuary, then?” I said.

“Well, you know what they say- home is where you hang your enemies head!” And with that, he gave me a clap on the back and headed through the doors across the room. I shook my head amusedly, and headed through the thick doors he had just exited.
It led to a training room, with several targets and dummies set up for practice. There was a small Breton girl crouched down in the corner, whacking a wooden dummy with a dagger. I strode into the room, admiring it, when she turned and wiped her forehead of sweat. She had a round face with blonde hair and small green eyes; a rather pretty girl.

“Hi, I’m-”

“Oh, I know, I know- you’re Adrienne! So good to finally meet you, dark sister. My name is Antoinetta Marie. I hope you’re getting along all right. If you need anything, anything at all, you need only ask,” she said, green eyes flashing.

“Thank you, it’s so nice to meet everyone. The Sanctuary is fantastic, it already feels like home,” I said, once again wondering what everyone had heard about me, surprised that she knew my name.

She was silent for a brief pause, and then said “I know what you mean. Have you ever lived on the streets, struggled to survive? This Sanctuary is my home. Here I have the safety and love I've searched for all my life.”

“I understand,” I said shortly, nodding my head. We were all so similar, I thought. It was almost alarming. She smiled thinly at me and strode off a little haughtily, leaving me in the room alone. I followed her, staying a bit behind though. I entered the doors across the hall and followed the passageway down to a room with a row of beds, and two tables with various foods and drink lying around. Sitting at the table next to Antoinetta was a square-faced Bosmer, with peach skin and green eyes. She had a small, pursed mouth and a large chin. She was wearing the hood that was the same as the one I had been given. When I approached she rose and shook my hand.

“It is an honor to make your acquaintance. Warmest welcome to you. I am Telaendril, Wood Elf and loyal daughter to Sithis. I hope you find our Sanctuary to your liking, dark sister.”

“Its great- everyone’s been so kind,” I said.

“Well, we are a family,” she replied. She glanced over my shoulder, and I turned to see what she was looking at- it was Ocheeva.

“I heard you’ve accepted the contract from Vicente- very good. With every life you take, Sithis grows stronger, and the Brotherhood flourishes.” I smiled at her in answer, nodding my head once.

“Ocheeva, I have a question…” she nodded. “Everyone keeps calling me ‘dark sister’, but aren‘t we a brotherhood?”

“While the Brotherhood maintains its ancient name, membership is always open to skilled women. For can we not draw blood as well as any man?” she replied, smiling with an eyebrow raised. I laughed agreeably with her and Telaendril, while Gogron, who was sitting on his bed, grunted. We all smiled at his typical male reaction.

“So, your first contract,” said Gogron, obviously trying to change the subject. “No chance for a bonus, huh? That's all right, you're better off! Who needs magic items when you've got raw skill? And the great thing about killing a target up close and personal is you can talk to 'em before you do it! You know, say something scary!” Telaendril shook her head wearily, and Antoinetta and Ocheeva exchanged exasperated, yet amused looks.

“For example, this one time, I had a contract to kill a little Nord girl at her birthday party. She asked me if I was the jester! So I said to her, "No, I am a messenger of death." You should have seen the look on her face! Ha ha ha ha! Anyway, she won't be seeing age six!”

All three of my companions laughed, and I sat there stunned for a second before joining in. They spoke of murder so casually, and of a child as well! I had never really been affected by tales of murder, whether about adults or children. However, I had always acted like I was horrified by them, as was customary. I guess I wouldn’t have to here.

“So, what is your first contract?” asked Teinaava, who had just entered the room and came to stand by myself, Telaendril, Ocheeva and Antoinetta. It was around when everyone ate dinner, so family members were starting to congregate in the room. I thought of what Vicente had said about asking my family members for aid on my contracts, and thoroughly explained my orders to kill the Pirate Captain.

Teinaava nodded, and said “The Marie Elena, you say? I've seen that ship. There's a unique balcony at the stern. My guess is it leads to the captain's cabin. Could be useful.”

“Thanks, Teinaava,” I said gratefully. He nodded, and grabbed a loaf of bread and come cheese, and sat on a chair.

“I've traveled by prison ship. It was cramped and dark. There was little room to move around, but plenty of shadowy nooks to hide in. Remember that,” said Antoinetta, but she didn’t seem to happy to be helping me out. What was her problem? I wondered.
I smiled at Antoinetta, who shrugged indifferently back, and then asked a question I had been wondering about.

“So how does someone set a contract, anyways? I mean, how do people get in
contact with us if we’re secret?” I asked the group.

“To employ the services of the Dark Brotherhood, one must perform a ritual to the Night Mother.” It was Ocheeva who answered me. “Only then will she heed their prayers for murder. It is an ancient rite, this Black Sacrament. All across the Empire, every day, people beseech the Night Mother to take the lives of others. After a person performs the ritual, they are contacted by a Speaker. Gold is exchanged, and the details worked out. So it has always been.”

I digested this, and then asked “How did the Dark Brotherhood begin?”

“Long ago, in an age now forgotten, Sithis came to the Night Mother and begat her five sons. So you see, his love gave birth to the Dark Brotherhood,” said Telaendril.
Everyone else nodded in assent. Gogron rolled back into his bed, seeming to prepare to sleep. Ocheeva and Telaendril returned to their chairs, while Teinaava munched on his food. Antoinetta sat down next to Teinaava, across from me. We all started to eat whatever we could grab, indiscriminately.

“So, how did everyone else join the Brotherhood?” I said, chewing on an apple.

“Actually, Lucien did not try to recruit me. Not at first. He tried to kill me. My father wanted me dead, and he hired the Dark Brotherhood to do it.” Her feature contorted slightly. “I escaped from Lucien, and paid my father back for his treachery. Lucien came to me again that night with an offer I just couldn’t refuse,” said Telaendril, her eyes looking far away, as (I supposed) she thought of her initiation.

I was interested to know more about Lucien, and was lucky that the others continued the path of conversation.

“Ocheeva and I have known Lucien since we were hatchlings,” said Teinaava, gesturing to Ocheeva (who nodded) with a slab of cheese. “He is the one who trained us in the way of the Shadowscale, and is like a father to us.”

“I once saw Lucien deal with an insubordinate Brother, someone who had broken the Tenets. It took me a week to get the blood off my boots,” Gogron said gruffly from his bed in the corner. Everyone around the table (except for me) laughed and chuckled, recalling the incident.

“I will always think of Lucien Lachance as my savior. When he found me, I was living in a gutter, an inch away from death. I owe him everything.” It was Antoinetta who said this, and the way she emphasized her last sentence that made me wonder what her relationship to Lucien Lachance really was. I felt a sharp stab of…jealously, for some reason. Suddenly I realized that I wished to talk to Lucien again; I wanted to ask him several questions, and first of all, I wanted to know what he had been telling everyone about me!

“Is Lucien here? I didn’t notice him,” I said carefully.

“Lucien isn’t here very often. His duties with the Black Hand keep him very busy, so he trusts me to keep the Sanctuary in order,” said Ocheeva.

“Oh,” I said, rather dejectedly. I slumped back in my chair, disappointed. I hadn’t realized how much I was looking forward to speaking with him again. Ocheeva seemed to pick up on my behavior, for she gave me an inquisitive look, but conversation was picked up again and she seemed to forget about it.

We continued eating, talking and laughing for another hour or so, until some had to say good night, and others headed out to attend to duties. I wasn’t heading for the Imperial City till morning, so I just shuffled over to bed, extremely content. That first family dinner was one of the happiest times of my life. The feeling of companionship, of…fitting in somewhere. People may tell themselves that they don’t need that feeling of belonging, that they’re fine without it, but I think everyone needs to have their own place where they fit in. And I had finally found the place I belonged.