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 Seven: The Swamp and the Shadowscale

After escorting Francois Motierre safely to the Grey Mare without any more incidents, I changed out of my Dark Brotherhood armor and into my traveling clothes (I held the black leather away from myself at arms length, wrinkling my nose in disgust before placing it in an empty compartment of my pack). It was rather late to start my journey to Cheydinhal, but it had been a long day and I was looking forward to my warm bed in the Sanctuary.

I arrived back at Cheydinhal just as the sun rose, dead tired and dragging my reluctant feet down the ramp and into the Sanctuary. Everyone was asleep, so I followed their example and dropped into bed, not even bothering to change my clothes. I didn’t wake until early evening. No one was in the Living Quarters, so I started to walk toward the central room, yawning and stretching contently. I opened the door and found Ocheeva and Teinaava sitting a shadowy corner, muttering darkly to each other. As I walked by, intent on letting them have their privacy, Teinaava suddenly seemed to sense my presence and looked up, smiling when he saw me- but it wasn’t his normal warm smile. There was a businesslike air to it, an almost withdrawn look; his mind seemed distracted, something I saw often in Ocheeva, but never in Teinaava.

“Ah, dear friend, may I steal a moment of your time? I have a rather delicate situation I was hoping you could help me with,” Teinaava said. Ocheeva rose, saying that she must go, but Teinaava would explain everything. I watched her walk away briskly, and then looked back at Teinaava.

“This is a personal matter, and will have no bearing on your standing within the Dark Brotherhood. Would you like to hear more?”

“Of course, dear brother-tell me more” I said, trying not to let my voice show my intense curiosity.

“I find your decision most agreeable!” Teinaava laughed, but it seemed rather forced. He was definitely troubled, and I truly hoped that I would be able to help him. “Now, the details. Far south of here, on the southern end of Cyrodiil, lies a swamp called Bogwater. Hiding in that swamp you will find an Argonian Shadowscale named Scar-Tail. Kill this renegade, and bring me his heart as proof of the deed.”

I sat there expectantly, waiting for more details, but Teinaava provided none.

“A Shadowscale renegade?” I prompted.

“In the Argonian homeland of Black Marsh, those born under the sign of the Shadow are taken at birth and presented to the Dark Brotherhood. A Shadowscale hatchling is trained in the arts of stealth and assassination, and lives a life in service to the mighty kingdom of Argonia. Any Shadowscale who lives to come of age is accepted into the Dark Brotherhood as a full member of the family. So it was with myself, and Ocheeva,” he responded.

“Oh yes, I remember. It was… Lucien who trained you, no?” I asked. Teinaava only nodded before continuing.

“When Ocheeva and I trained with the Dark Brotherhood as children, we befriended another initiate, a Shadowscale by the name of Scar-Tail. The three of us were inseparable. When our training was completed, we reluctantly parted ways. But now... Now, the unthinkable has happened! Scar-Tail has fled Black Marsh and refuses to fulfill his duties as royal assassin! This is an act of treason! This treachery must be punished! Just as a member of the Dark Brotherhood cannot kill a fellow family member, a Shadowscale is forbidden from slaying another Shadowscale.”

It was now my turn to nod, because I was beginning to understand.

“That is why you must go to Bogwater and eliminate that treacherous snake! Please kill Scar-Tail, so Ocheeva and I can put this matter behind us. Scar-Tail was once as a brother to me and Ocheeva. But his act of treason destroyed any vestige of that relationship. His death will be well-deserved!” he ended with a thunderous yell, hitting the table with his fist. I could tell that he was not as happy about having his former friend killed as he wanted everyone to believe- it was really troubling him, and he was disturbed and distressed by the betrayal.

“I will do this for you, dear brother. With honor,” I gave him an encouraging smile, and Teinaava patted my arm gratefully, before striding off to the Living Quarters. I still had to go to Vicente to report my success and to receive another contract, so I walked off to his room, thinking about Teinaava's situation.

It certainly was a grievous one- to have to order the death of an old friend, someone who he grew up with. Shadowscales sounded familiar to the Dark Brotherhood in that they seemed as though they also became very close, like a family. I thought of Scar Tail's betrayal- why would he ever do something like that? I couldn't even fathom the possibility of ever betraying the Dark Brotherhood. I understood Teinaava's anger, but I could also understand why he would still feel a link to this old friend; why it was hurting him so to have to do this. But that is how life is, I suppose- you have to make difficult decisions, and often you are forced to make the less favorable choice for yourself because it is the right decision. I shook my head slightly before knocking on Vicenete's door.

Vicente was sitting at a desk, scribbling away with a large quill when I came in. I caught a glimpse of what he was writing before he slipped it into his desk; it was a letter to Ocheeva. He gave me a questioning look and I nodded that I had succeeded in my contract. He smiled up at me, his fangs slipping out of his lips.

“Ah, so Motierre has escaped? Well done! As payment, I am pleased to award you this amulet, Cruelty's Heart, as well as another advancement in rank. I hereby bestow upon you the title of Eliminator. Your blood is cold, your heart hard. You exemplify everything the Dark Brotherhood stands for. I present to you now this key. It unlocks the well behind the Abandoned House above. Use it to gain hidden, quick access to this Sanctuary.” I stood before him, glowing with pride.

“It is an honor, dear brother,” I said, bowing my head slightly, qutie flustered. Another promotion? To Eliminator? Already? I waited further orders, but instead Vicente gave a curt nod and started to turn away, signaling me (not rudely) to leave. I was quite confused.

“Wait! Don’t you have another contract for me?” I said, raising my voice after him. He turned back, and his face seemed pained.

“Well now, you are an ambitious one, aren't you? I'm afraid I have no more contracts for you. Our time working together has come to an end. Instead, you must report to Ocheeva, here in the Sanctuary. She will be providing all your contracts from now on, and is waiting for you as we speak,” he said, keeping his voice light.

My eyes widened in surprise- most of the Sanctuary members still worked for Vicente. They had been here for years, and nearly everyone had barely reached the rank of Eliminator. I wasn’t quite sure what to say, but Vicente understood, not expecting anything.

“Before you go, however, I intend to make good on an offer I made some time ago. As a vampire, I may pass my gift on to others as I see fit. You have served me well, and I choose now to extend that gift to you. Shall I use my dark powers and turn you into a vampire?”

I visibly started, having forgotten about his comment ages ago about turning those he felt worthy into a vampire. I never thought that I would have to deal with such occasion. I knew that I would never want to be a vampire; I may enjoy the night, embrace it, appreciate it during a kill, but would never want to be confined to it. I also found the look of vampires to be quite repulsive; the gaunt, pale faces, razor sharp fangs and red eyes were not something I found attractive. However, I didn’t want to offend Valtieri.

“No, not right now, thank you,” I said carefully.

“I can understand your trepidation. For it is not everyday one is invited to join the ranks of the undead, eh? If you ever change your mind, fear not. My offer will always be open. Simply return and speak to me about the Dark Gift, and we can proceed.”

This time it was I who nodded and left the room, still rather stunned. I walked up the stairs and towards Ocheeva’s room, but lingered just outside her door for a moment, gathering my thoughts. I had already been ‘promoted’ up to the highest rank of anyone here, except for Vicente and Ocheeva, and I had only been here for a few short months. I was proud, but also alarmed in a way; I was scared that some of my family members would turn against me because of my quick progression through the ranks. How had I progressed so quickly? Was I really that much better than everyone here? No, I thought to myself. By Sithis, they have taught me nearly everything I know! And yet... no one else had risen a single rank since I had arrived, while I have shot straight up to the highest standing in the Sanctuary, other than Ocheeva and Vicente. I had never really thought about my standing in the guild, had never really taken time to sit back and realize that my progression in the guild really was quite extraordinary. I sighed lightly, pushing the thoughts from my mind- there were other more important matters that I should be spending my time pondering- like this traitorous Shadowscale, Scar Tail. I suddenly remembered where I was, and why I was there- I had been ordered to speak with Ocheeva! Without further ado I knocked firmly on Ocheeva’s thick doors.

She answered promptly, ushering me in and shutting the door behind me.

“Hello, sweet Sister. It warms my heart to see you again. The Night Mother has been smiling upon you, I hope.”

I nodded, smiling in return. She then described my first contract under her order- a skooma addicted Altmer, to be killed in the Imperial City discreetly, due to the meddling of the Imperial Officer Addamus Phillida. However, I remained distracted throughout her description, thinking of Teinaava’s unofficial contract. Ocheeva saw that I was distant and preoccupied.

“Is there something troubling you, dearest sister?” she said, narrowing her eyes inquisitvely as she looked into mine. I started to reply that I was fine, thank you, but changed my mind suddenly.

“Actually, yes,” I said quickly. Her eyebrows rose, prompting me to continue. “It has to do with the renegade Shadowscale, Scar Tail..."

“Ah.” Ocheeva’s face darkened considerably, and her voice became harsh. “Scar-Tail is a traitor to Argonia, and a blight upon Tamriel! Kill him, as my brother requests, and we will be forever in your debt.”

“Of course, dearest sister,” I said, reassured that Ocheeva felt so strongly about the kill- Teinaava hadn’t seemed so.

"Teinaava says that you and him spent most of your early lives with together, and that Scar Tail was a close friend?" I said carefully.

"What he says is true. All our lives Teinaava and I have lived together in the shadows. We are egg mates. Twins. We were taken at birth, along with the traitor, Scar Tail, and given to the Dark Brotherhood. We returned to Black Marsh as Shadowscales, trained in the arts of stealth and murder. Together we served our nation as spies and assassins, as all Shadowscales do. When we came of age, the three of us joined the family as one. Teinaava and I were sent here, to Cyrodiil, to serve the Dark Brotherhood, while Scar Tail remained in the Argonian Royal Court. Now he has betrayed them...I shall never understand it," she finished, looking quite somber.

"I will make sure that this traitor shall receive justice for his treachery, dearest sister," I said defiantly.

"May Sithis guide your blade!" Ocheeva responded, and we bade each other farewell.

I started my journey south the next morning, after another long night's rest. I decided to carry out Teinaava's contract before the official Dark Brotherhood hit because it felt more urgent; a skooma-addict wasn't about to be capable of disappearing as easily as a trained assassin. At least that was the reasoning I was trying to convince myself I using... but deep down I knew it really wasn't. Truthfully, I just wanted to solve Teinaava's problem as quickly as possible- he had done so much for me, as had most of the Sanctuary, and I wished to do something in return. He was family, my most trusted brother. It was time I repaid the kindness he had shown me, in the way I knew best- murder.

After three rather moist and humid days, I finally reached Leyawiin. It was a rather dilapidated town, wet and muddy. The homes were of a smooth clay, colored in red, green, and yellow- rather uncharacteristic of Cryodiil; the influence of the South was evident. All the citizens seemed to be Khajiits or Argonians, and they weren't dressed nearly as luxuriously as those in Cheydinhaal or Chorrol. They seemed more like the members of the Waterfront, all starving and desperate. I certainly found Leyawiin more to my liking than either of those towns, but the constant downpour was a deterrent for a permanent residence.

I stayed in town for one night just to get out of the bloody rain for awhile. In the short time I was there, a pickpocket was arrested, a brawl took place in the bar of the Inn I stayed at, and the body of a beggar was discovered in the gutter outside the ruined Blackwood Company building. Never a dull moment, eh?

The morning I left it was foggy and, surprisingly enough, raining. I spent three hours lost in the swamps, as my compass wouldn't work- it got too wet. Finally, I emerged in a clearing, smelly and grumpy, to a beautiful sight- a campfire smoke above the treeline. I was near his campsite. Taking a deep, calming breath, I started to prepare myself for a kill. It was dusk, and the fireflies and crickets were out in full force. I was strapping my dagger to my waist when I heard the snapping of a twig behind me. I spun, and found my nose inches from the red and green face of an Argonian. I leapt back about two feet but didn't reach for my dagger- I was dressed as a simple traveler, and I may still be able to deceive him into thinking I was just that.

The Argonian held up a weary hand, as though signaling me to stand down. I took a closer look at him and found that he looked as though he hadn't slept in ages, and his clothes were torn and bloodied. Someone had beaten me to him.

" I guess I've been expecting you... assassin." I started visibly, my mind working rapidly to deny the accusation convincingly. "Don't try to deny it," he continued, carefully studying my reaction with a look of weary amusement. "I can see it in your eyes. You're Dark Brotherhood, through and through."

That certainly surprised me. I thought myself a passable actress- in past contracts I was able to convince others that I was innocent. But as he gave me a knowing smile, I realized with a start that recently people in towns had kept their distance from me, that they seemed guarded near me; almost...wary of me. Was it that obvious? Was my mask that thin?

I thought of other members of the Brotherhood. The first time I had seen Lucien Lachance, with just a glance of his dark intense eyes, I could tell he was a murderer. I thought of Ocheeva, Teinaava, Vicente...they all had the eyes of a cold-blooded killer, pitiless and merciless. My transformation had been so gradual that even I hadn't seen what was happening. I was a full-fledged member of the Dark Brotherhood, I realized. It was everything about me, my life, my very soul.

I sighed and returned Scar Tail's look sardonically. His smile widened.

"Let me guess- it was Ocheeva, right?" he said, but I cocked my head, my look indicating him to guess again. "No, wait. Teinaava," he said slowly, his voice confident. I nodded.

"Yes, it was he who put you up to this, didn't he... Ocheeva was always too busy to even be bothered." He certainly knew them well- if there had been any question as to his identity before, there wasn't now. "Well, you can kill me if you like. I'm afraid I won't make much of a challenge, though. The Argonian Royal Court already sent an Agent to do the job." Ah, I thought. So that explained the blood. "He failed, of course. His body's around here somewhere. But he got in a pretty good hit. If I don't get some rest I'm probably dead anyway." By the look of him, I had to agree. "So maybe I can appeal to your sense of good will, huh?" I raised my eyebrows. He laughed, "Hahahaha. You let me live, and I'll tell you where I stashed my treasure. Is it a deal?"

I thought quickly- truthfully, I didn't want to kill him just yet. He had a personality, a affable personality, and there was still some things I wanted to ask him...

"Sure. It's a deal," I said.

He looked genuinely surprised, startled at my decision. He gave me a disbelieving look.

"You show unexpected mercy. For that, I am thankful," I nodded my head shortly, and he continued. "My treasure is hidden in a hollowed-out rock near my campfire. It' yours," he said lightly. There was a silence, and we both began to speak at the same time.

"Now-"

"I have-" We stopped and looked at each other, waiting for the other to speak.

"You have allowed me to live," he said, after a second of staring. "The least I can do is allow you to speak first."

"Well, I have a question for you," I said slowly, cautiously. He looked at me expectantly. "Why did you leave? How could you leave your family like that?" I finished hastily, anxious to see his reaction to the rather personal question.

He took a deep breath, and looked out over my shoulder, his eyes far away. He sat like this for a moment, and I was afraid that I had angered or offended him. But he spoke again, his voice low and soft.

"I have spent my entire life as an assassin, I was born into it, a Shadowscale. I daresay Teinaava and Ocheeva have spoken of this? At first, the thrill of a kill was intoxicating, it was all I had, all I needed... But as the years passed, and all of my fellow members, my friends, started dying... The Brotherhood consumes you, it takes everything from you- your 'ormal'life, your sense of morality, your humanity, and finally those you come to love. Oh yes, love,"he said, responding to the disbelieving look on my face. "Assassins can be capable of love, but they themselves may not even realize it. That's what separates the life-long assassins from those who are temporary. The life-long assassin forgets how to feel for anything or anyone. They become truly heartless; all they enjoy, all they ever feel is the ecstasy of murder. It is a long and tortuous process, to become this way, and one I would rather not endure. I'm a temporary," he said.

Now, looking back, I wish I had considered his reasons for leaving, that I had understood why he had left, and heeded his words. And I wish I had followed his lead. But I didn't.

There was a moment of awkward silence before Scar Tail continued, his voice lighter.

"Oh yes, I suppose that Teinaava wants proof that I am dead, eh?" I took that to mean the previous subject was closed. "Let me guess- my heart? I suggest you take the heart of the dead Argonian Agent. His body is around here somewhere. Present the Agent's heart to Teinaava as proof, and he'll be none the wiser. I need to rest now, regain my strength. Farewell, assassin," he turned away and strode off towards his campsite,

I followed him. When he reached his lean-to and fire, he started to prepare himself to sleep, while I strode over to the hollow rock and retrieved his treasure. It wasn't much, but it was something.

Turning back to Scar Tail, I saw he was shirtless and about to lean down onto his sleeping pad. And suddenly I knew I was going to kill him, even though for a moment I had intended not to. But I realized that I did not wish to lie to Teinaava, that I had promised him I would ease his heart and solve this problem, and I would do anything for my family (well, at least most of the members). It was a pity, but even though Scar Tale was a likable person, he was still a traitor. And for that, I thought to myself, he did deserve to die.

I slipped my dagger out silently and started to quietly step toward Scar Tail's bare back, the now familiar kill-lust adrenaline rushing through my veins. In one swift, deft motion, I slid the dagger across his throat and dug in. He fell to his side, clutching his neck and gurgling incoherently. He looked into my eyes, his look almost amused.

"Haha... I should have... seen that coming..." he choked out, each word taking immense effort. "Dark Brotherhood... through and through...eh?". And he took a final warbling breath before slumping to the ground, blood streaming steadily from his open neck.

I returned to the Sanctuary three days later, after dealing with the skooma addicted Altmer in the Imperial City. When I arrived at the Sanctuary was empty accept for a sleeping Valtieri, so I head back out for the day to buy, sell and repair my equipment. Since joining the Dark Brotherhood, I had been saving most of the money I had received for contracts. There wasn't really anything I was saving it for, but it was nice to know I had it, in case I ever needed it. Luck favors the prepared, they say.

That night I went back to the Sanctuary to find that everyone was present- a rare occurrence. I greeted everyone (minus Antoinetta and M'raaj Dar) and chatted amiably for a few moments before excusing myself and setting off for Ocheeva's room. I took a deep breath, untied the pouch on my belt containing the heart of Scar Tail, and knocked firmly on the thick doors.

"Who is it?" Ocheeva's voice dully reverberated through doors.

"Adrienne," I responded.

"Oh, do come in!" and Teinaava hastily opened a door, beckoning me in.

"So? Do you come with news of the Traitor?" Teinaava asked hurriedly. I held up the pouch. Teinaava gave me a quick glance before taking the small bag and opening it slowly. It stank of decaying flesh, and the buzz of flies surrounded it. Teinaava inspected the heart, poking and prodding. His face was passive, but I could see a dull pain in his eyes.

"Yes! That is an Argonian heart, of that I am sure! You have slain Scar-Tail! Well done!"

Ocheeva leaned back in her chair, heaving a great sigh, as though a heavy burden had been lifted. Teinaava smiled, and I could see some of the mischievous glint returning to his eyes already.

"Please, take these boots as payment for your services!" He strode over to a crate in the corner of the room and removed a pair of boots. They were leather, and looked ordinary enough. "They are called the Boots of Bloody Bounding, and carry a powerful enchantment. I'm sure you will find them most useful..."

"Thank you, dearest brother," I said earnestly. His and Ocheeva's relief would have truly been enough reward, I thought to myself.

"No, thank you," he said seriously, looking me straight in the eye.

I smiled at both of them and turned to leave. However, as I reached the door Teinaava grabbed my arm.

"Wait," he said.

I turned back to look at him, my glance questioning.

"Did he... did you talk to him at all?" he said, his gaze downward, as though ashamed of showing such emotion toward the fate of a traitor. I thought of what Scar Tail had said; "Assassins can be capable of love, but they themselves may not even realize it."

"No... no, I killed him well he slept," I responded, and Teinaava sighed.

"Thank you, once again dearest sister," he said. "Thank you."

I nodded, and left the room, leaving them to their privacy.