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 Eleven: WhoDunIt Part III

The first scream was followed by shocked silence, in which I could just feel the tense bodies of the other freshly awakened guests, stunned, afraid to be the first to make a move or sound. Mere seconds passed, but they seemed to stretch on for moments as the guests desperately listened to some clue on what was going on; the tension could be felt thickly within the very air. I turned to Matilde, who was upright in her bed, her body stiff and eyes wide.

And suddenly, Dovesi screamed again… but it was now broken up by another sound; wailing sobs. Sobs that sent a morbid shiver down my spine, knowing that my actions, my patient plotting, had caused this pain, this anguish . But I could not relish long in the chaos I had so ingeniously created- I had a part to play.

And so I exchanged a frantic glance with Matilde before both leaping from our beds, dashing out the doors and into the now crowded hallway. Neville was up ahead, while I caught a sight of Nels standing bleary-eyed at a doorway behind us.

We reached the landing to find Dovesi curled up in the corner, her face streaked with tears, gaze directed down to Primo’s motionless body. I watched the face of each guest in turn as they saw the corpse, my heart swelling with the pride of Sithis.

Neville’s gaze grew hard and stony once the realization hit- I could tell he would know this was not an accident. Matilde’s face grew instantly to one of the utmost horror; she drew her hand over her mouth and gasped, eyes wide. Nels’ rather bloodshot eyes did not seem phased- more surprised than anything.

But in all their eyes I saw the morbid fascination with the horrific and grisly aspects of life. Something that many try to deny, or keep burrowed within themselves… No matter how much they tried to renounce it, however, it was there. I instead chose to embrace it.

After a moment of taking in the body, Matilde leaned back into the hallway, breathing deeply. Neville started to creep down the stairs, his steps cautious and deliberate, heading slowly and carefully to the body. Nels seemed transfixed, his eyes not wavering from Primo. I relished for another brief moment, and then I began my act.

I slid into the landing and knelt down next to Dovesi, taking her face in my hands and looking into her eyes. Her gaze darted about, unable to hold a focus on my own. I spoke softly and rapidly to her, muttering words of comfort, as she continued to shake with now silent sobs.

Neville had reached the body of Primo Antonius, and was inspecting it, touching only very lightly. Dovesi was now clutched desperately around my shoulders, and I gripped her slight figure back, pretending to share her sobs- but I made sure to keep Neville’s movements viewable through the gap in our arms. I saw him lean in to investigate further, but then hesitate. He glanced up towards our grieving forms and drew his hand away, rising and starting up the stairs again.

Dovesi had stopped crying for a moment to look over at Neville, her gaze pitiful.

“Is he…is…” she choked out. Neville nodded, his gaze downward and solemn. She shoved her head into my shoulder and returned to her sobs. Nels finally drew his gaze from the body and looked down at Dovesi. His eyes were hard, filled with a fire that only a Nord could possess. He was angry.

“What happened here? Hmm, Dovesi?” he snarled, his voice accusatory.

Dovesi stopped her tears abruptly, her body growing still. She lifted her head slowly, her eyes filled with pain and anguish, but now her features were defensive. Before she could speak, however, I cut in.

“Nels! How could you even think such a horrible thing!” I exclaimed, my voice appalled.

He looked abashed, and Matilde jumped in.

“Nels, can’t you see the girl is upset? Someone’s just died, don’t you have any decency?” her voice cracking.

Nels was blinking hard, as though trying to process the situation. It didn’t seem to be working. However, Neville was quick to take control.

“Addy, why don’t you get Dovesi out of here, there’s no sake in keeping her here…” he gestured towards the bedroom, and I nodded understandingly. Matilde helped me lift Dovesi to her feet, who was now refusing to say anything. She was going into shock.

I was quite disgusted by her- it wasn’t as if she had even known the man that long! And if she was as poor as she claimed to be, she should have most certainly seen death before, and in more horrendous forms. And she didn’t even understood the truth about his death… By Sithis, the girl was so dramatic.

Matilde and I led her carefully into the bedroom, guiding Dovesi straight on to the bed. Silent tears were continuously streaming down her face, but her gaze remained distant. Matilde helped the girl lie down and I started to walk back towards the door. She waved her hand, signaling that I could leave, and took out a handkerchief. She began to wipe the tears from Dovesi’s face, and I marveled at how quickly tragedy and chaos could change a persons view of another.

When I got back to the stairs, I came upon Nels and Neville arguing vehemently. Okay, maybe not so much…

They were both gesturing and shouting, pointing and waving. Not a word could be interpreted or understood, due to the fact that Nels seemed to have resorted to roaring instead of speaking.

“What’s going on?” I exclaimed. Nels and Neville both turned towards me, faces red. “Someone has just died, and all you can do is have a shouting match?” I glared at them, and they started to look uncomfortable. “I think that we need to figure out what we’re going to do, together, instead of fighting in a time like this.”

There was a silence, while I continued glaring at both of them, and then Neville spoke, his voice soft.

“We need to move the body, we can’t just leave it here…” I nodded, and looked at Nels expectantly. He nodded as well, though rather reluctantly. I was pleased with this reaction- the reason I had interrupted their fight so early was because I knew that it was better that this conflict was left unresolved, as it could be useful later…

We quickly discussed how to handle the body- I went upstairs and pulled the sheet off of Primo’s bed, and then returned to the top landing, where Nels and Neville had carried his corpse. In silence we wrapped him up in the sheet and lifted him into the storage room, where I adjusted some boxes to make a sort of table. I backed out of the room while Nels and Neville carefully placed the late Primo Antonius, pulling the sheet over him.

We stood in silence for a moment, each with our thoughts in completely different places, looking the form beneath the sheet, the faint outline of Primo’s features. After another moment, Neville said:

“We should wait till morning to discuss this. I think we all need some rest.”

I nodded, glad to have the night to plan my next move. Nels, however, looked disgruntled, but he still followed Neville and I out into the hall. We turned to our separate rooms, but they both hesitated at the doorway, as though they wanted to say something more. But then they seemed to think better of it, and continued into their rooms, shutting the doors behind them.

I walked into the other room that Matilde had been using, and lay down on the bed. Staring at the ceiling, I started to plot my next move.

First I should probably spend some time with Dovesi, play the caring friend. After that…well I knew that Neville would die next, he was most certainly my most dangerous enemy. He knew that death was no accident, and he would use his Legion gained skills to figure out the truth. His death would also alarm the other guests even more- he may be getting on in years, but he was still strong and skilled in the arts of battle, and the guests would know that if someone defeated Neville, that person could certainly kill those remaining…

Smiling to myself, I thought about the already executed part of my plan. It had been completed perfectly…I lay completely out of suspicion, while all the blame had fallen on the foolish girl, Dovesi.

And so my thoughts went for most of the night- I was still intoxicated by the thrill of a murder, of death within these walls by my hands…but eventually sleep came, and I dreamt of the demise of Neville, his blood flowing freely, staining my blade…

When I awoke my surroundings seemed quiet. I took a moment to orient myself, and then listened harder. I didn’t hear the sounds of deep breathing or snoring, or the creaking of beds and shifting of bodies while they slept. But I did faintly hear the music of birds and doves; I had overslept, it must be well past morning.

Cursing rapidly under my breath, I leapt out of bed and pulled on a spare dress, quickly attaching a dagger and a few throwing knives to my leg, along with some poisons into the inner folds of my skirt. I walked into the hallway and peered into all the rooms- no one was there, except of course for Primo, still laying beneath his sheet. I ran fingers through my hair, attempting to tidy it up as I descended the stairs quickly.

I could now hear voices, raised voices.

“Well who else could it have been?” That was Nel’s voice.

“Nels, really now, look at the poor girl…”

I entered the room to quite a chaotic scene. Nels was standing across the table from Matilde and Neville, while Dovesi was standing off to side. Her eyes were filled with tears, but her face was defensive and angered. Nels’ face was beet red, and his eyes were flashing. Matilde looked flustered and upset, while Neville was watching with an impassive face, his eyes understanding almost.

When I entered the room all four turned to look at me.

“What is going on?” I asked, my voice cracking.

Dovesi uttered a little sob and walked over towards me, taking my hand in both of hers and looking into my eyes in despair.

“Nels thinks that I… that I…killed-” and she dissolved into sobs, wrapping her arms around my shoulders. Using an extraordinary amount of willpower, I put my own arms around her, patting her head comfortingly, while glaring at Nels over her shoulder.

“Nels, look at her! She couldn’t have killed him!” I said, my voice startled.

Nels started to speak, but Neville cut in.

“This was nothing more than an accident. I have seen murder countless times in my life, and this was not. I think we all just need to calm down,” he said… But I could tell he didn’t believe his own words. However, they did have a soothing effect on everyone else.

“What happened was terrible yes, but it was nothing more than an accident. Now I think we should all focus on getting out of here, and fast.” Aha, I thought. He’s scared. “I don’t know about you, but that gold’s not looking as appealing now,” Neville said, and the others nodded in consent.

“We can all search for the chest, together. We’ll decide what to do with the gold once we’ve found it, but all I know is that I want to get out of here as quickly as possible.”

“I agree,” said Matilde, speaking in an almost defiant voice. “It’s better that we work together- I don’t want to stay here any longer. There’s an…eerie aura about the house, don’t you feel it? A sense of dread?” She looked around at the others, who stared blankly back. “In any case, I think its time we set aside our differences,” she finished.

“We should start right away-” Neville said. “-Addy, take Dovesi to her room. I think that she would be more of a hindrance in her current state than a help.”

I nodded, internally fuming over being left out of the planning, and walked slowly up the stairs, listening intently over Dovesi’s quiet sobs as Neville ordered that they begin to comb the house in an organized manner- sending Matilde to the basement, Nels to the first floor, and himself to the third floor, leaving me the second floor. We would switch throughout the day- whenever you had felt you’d searched the area thoroughly, you’d find someone to exchange floors with.

This was certainly going to make things a bit more difficult for me, I thought grimly. Everyone was organized…I had hoped for chaos…but with the elimination of Neville, it seemed I would achieve this. Now how to bring that about…

I laid Dovesi in bed, wiping her face with a handkerchief and soothing her cries. After about fifteen minutes she had calmed down, and was starting to dose off. I smiled softy to myself as I pulled the covers over her body, knowing that soon, very soon, I would be sending her soul to Sithis…

I walked out into the hallway and found the area to be silent- but surely Neville had come up to begin his search? I stuck my head into all of the bedrooms, but didn’t see him. Puzzled, I was about to walk down the stairs when I remembered- the storage room…where Primo’s body now lay!

I opened the door and found Neville with his back to me. He was lifting the sheet, inspected Primo’s neck. To announce my presence I gave a little gasp of surprise, and he turned about wildly.

“What in the name of Akatosh are you doing?” I implored, aghast.

“Well…” He looked me up and down, as though sizing me up. He took in my defiant and strong willed jaw, and seemed to come to a decision. He sighed, as though already sorry about what he was about to say.

“I tell you this in complete confidence… you are the only I feel can handle this appropriately. I can trust you to do the right thing,” he said.

I looked back at him, nodding slightly and responding “Of course.” He closed his eyes for a moment, obviously planning his words carefully, before continuing.

“To be quite frank, I wasn’t being entirely truthful downstairs.”

“Are you saying that you’re not searching for the-” I began.

“No, no that I was being completely truthful about,” he said irritably. “What I mean is… I don’t believe Primo’s death was an accident.” I changed my look to one of irritation and exasperation.

“Not this again,” I groaned. “I know Dovesi, she couldn’t have-”

“I’m not saying that it was Dovesi,” he interrupted, looking at me in a meaningful sort of way.

“Then what are you saying?” I implored, narrowing my eyes slightly.

He sighed again. “Here we are, locked inside a house with five strangers? It sounded like a trap when I read the invitation. Looks like I was right!” I widened my eyes, my mouth opening slightly in alarm. But the comprehension, the realization that he was right, was in my eyes as well. He took power from my confirmation and continued on, his voice raising.

“We're being stalked, like animals in the forest. I'm still not sure if the killer is one of the other guests, or is hiding somewhere in the house. One thing I do know is that the killer won't just stop with one. They never do,” he said ferociously, and I could tell he knew this from experience. I took a quick, gasping, nervous breath, and he put a comforting, strong hand on my shoulder.

“You and I, we need to watch each other's backs. I've got my old Legion armor and sword in a chest in my room. It's time I geared up and showed this coward just who he's dealing with!”

By Sithis, I hated this man! I had to act quickly, or matters could be taken outside of my control. I did some extremely fast thinking, and thankfully found a solution.

“I…they…” I stammered, and he looked at me apologetically. I acted as though this information had staggered me. After a moment of closed eyes and open mouthed processing, I look up at him, as though I had reached a decision.

“I don’t want to believe it-” I said, my voice stronger. “-but I think that you are right…I have a dagger, in my room…” My voice trailed off.

“Yes, you should most certainly keep that with you at all times…and please, keep this information to yourself. There is no need to alarm the others, and you could very well be informing the killer of our awareness…” I nodded, and we both walked out of the room, I in the lead. He headed for his room, while I darted into mine.

There wasn’t much time, not if this was going to work….I pulled my sharpest dagger out from the sheath hidden on my leg, and took out a vial of poison. Carefully, I smeared the edge of the dagger with the lethal substance, keeping it away from my own skin. I stuck the poison back into a pocket and stepped silently into the hall, sending a silent prayer to the Night Mother…

His door was ajar, and peering in I could see him leaning over his chest, rummaging about, the clanging of metals and steel clearly heard. And among this was another sound…my heart beating, reverberating throughout my head…the blood pulsing through my veins…and thinking of the blood in his veins, soon to be spilt…

I crept into the room, my legs bent and ready in case he turned unexpectedly. He didn’t. I was three feet from him….two…one…and with a surge of sadistic glee, I grabbed Neville by his hair and pulled his head back, level to my own. I pressed my dagger to his throat, and leaned in slightly, touching my lips softly to his ear.

“You’re right….I won’t stop with one,” I whispered.

And before he could shout out, I stabbed the tip of my dagger deep within his flesh, until I felt the hard resistance of bone, and slid it slowly all around his neck, relishing in the flood of blood that gushed forth from his open throat.

He had only time for one last gasping, gurgling breath before he slumped forward. He had fallen over his open trunk, and it was quickly filling with his blood, staining the shiny metals of his armor and weapons. I kneeled by his body, breathing rapidly and feeling rather dazed. I had never waited this long before a kill…not when I knew who the target was, when I knew what I intended to do…it was a thrilling intoxicating feeling.

But there was yet more to be done- three guests were still awaiting their turn to be sacrificed to Sithis. And Sithis was always ready for more blood.