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 Seventeen: The Beginning of the End

I slept late the next morning, my headache having returned with such a great intensity in the middle of the night that I had ended up drinking a sleeping draught, for I could not rest otherwise. There was still a dull throbbing, but it was once again bearable- a swelling had sprung up a few days after the incident, and the mound had reached what felt as though the size of an egg- but it had started to shrink in size.

No one else was in the Living Quarters, so I guessed that I had slept past noon. I knew that Teinaava had been given a contract (he had told me of it last night- it was a citizen of Cheydinhal, so I expected he would return before nightfall), and Vicente had left the Sanctuary for a “human blood-collection excursion”. I wondered vaguely if anyone else was in the Sanctuary, and hoped to find something to entertain myself while confined to these walls.

After eating a light breakfast, I head upstairs to find that Gogron was sitting in the Entry Hall, reading a scrap of parchment- I saw a header of “The Black Horse Courier”, and thought of the article from the night before.

“Isn’t that story absolutely hilarious?” I said cheerily, (happy to have found someone to talk with), and sat down in the chair opposite him.

He looked up, his brow furrowed and eyes perplexed. I cocked my head quizzically in return, for I had been sure that Gogron would have found the article- which was about a gang of females who had tricked men into giving up their treasures using their womanly wiles- most amusing.

“I don’t think you’ve seen this one…” he replied, and he handed over the parchment with a somewhat reluctant face.

I looked down at the parchment and read the heading:

“INVESTIGATION HALTED!
INTEGRAL WITNESSES DEAD!
DARK BROTHERHOOD INVOLVMENT CONFIRMED!”

And before I read on, I knew exactly what the article was about, and was sure it would confirm my suspicions about Antoinetta’s anger over a contract.

“Just two days after the murder of respected ex-Legion officer, Adamus Phillida, two witnesses who could have revealed the identity of his murderer have been announced dead.

A local Argonian innkeeper, whose name is reported as ‘Witseidutsei’, was found dead in the storage room of her inn last night. Her presence was reported missing when she failed to attend an interview by local Legionary representatives pertaining to the death of Phillida. She had given a statement that the description released on the murderer matched that of a patron of her inn, and that the Argonian might have some information that could aid in the investigation. What she was able to reveal before her death included the involvement of one Seviil Varo, the bodyguard of the late Adamus Philida.

According to reports, a friend, who was helping search after the Legion representatives had inquired about her location, found Witseitdutsei’s body in her inn; her throat had been cut, and a struggle had evidently taken place, made obvious by the state of disarray in the storage room. A representative spoke of the tragic event, saying that it“…confirms the involvement of the Dark Brotherhood, for this horrific crime is clearly a cover-up. One of their own was in danger, and so they killed the one who could reveal her. We are quite clearly dealing with a group of sick individuals.”

The second death is that of Seviil Varo, the bodyguard of Adamus Phillida. Apparently he was nowhere near the scene of the crime, and his involvement in the murder was brought under question. This was before, however, the now-confirmed rumor had been spread that he had been seduced by the very assassin that killed the old man, and had been indisposed of by her while the crime was being committed.

The public response to this exposure was swift and condemnatory, leaving the man crushed and overwhelmed by society’s disapproval. He also did not show up once summoned yesterday by the Imperial Legion representatives, and when Varo’s house was searched, a suicide note was found, describing his plans to throw himself into the rivers surrounding Leyawiin- ‘I let everyone down, so this is it. Goodbye cruel Empire! I'm ending it all!’, he wrote. He has not been seen after the discovery of this note, and was officially proclaimed dead yesterday evening.

It has been a tragic week indeed for those who fight the evil in our realm- but we can only hope that the one responsible for the death of Phillida, and ultimately that of Witseidutsei and Seviil Varo, will one day receive the retribution that they deserve for their wicked deeds.”

I read the paper with a small smile on my face, skimming to the end. This confirmed what I had suspected- I now had no doubt in my mind that Antoinetta had been sent by Ocheeva to kill Witseidutsei and Seviil Varo, as a cover-up for me. It also explained why Ocheeva had said that I could be free to roam the streets by the end of the week, for she realized that if Antoinetta was successful I would not have much to worry about in the terms of recognition from the public.

Gogron was watching me, his expression inquiring. I realized that it would seem rather odd if I was not surprised by the news, as I was not going to admit to having overheard the conversation between Ocheeva and Antoinetta, and that I should probably act the part.

I molded my expression into one of shock and perplexity, and I opened my mouth and closed it several times, as though on the verge of speech.

“Were we… was one of the Brotherhood sent to kill them? Why wasn’t I told?” I eventually asked.

Gogron put forth a rather pitiful attempt of seeming ignorant, but his almost eyes darted about almost comically (presumably trying to feign innocence) and his rigid composure gave him away almost immediately. He could not meet my eyes, and instead looked towards the floor guiltily, almost like a dog who knows he has been caught doing wrong.

“Gogron…” I said, my voice sounding a tad threatening. “Look me in the eyes…”

He raised his eyes slowly, reluctantly, and met mine, grimacing in dread.

“Tell me what you know,” I said slowly, deliberately. I found it quite amusing that I, who was about half Gogron’s size, could intimidate him so.

“You should speak to Ocheeva!” he exclaimed suddenly, as though surprised he had not thought of it before. “She’ll tell you need to know- it was her that told us not to mention it to you anyways.”

I raised my eyebrows, and his eyes widened in alarm- I don’t think he was supposed to have told me that, I thought wryly. Quite suddenly, in a flash of movement that I would have never expected the hefty Orc capable of, Gogron had darted past me and was heading for the ladder.

“Gogron!” I cried out, before starting to follow him as he climbed hastily up the ladder- but he turned and held up a palm.

“No! Ocheeva said to stay in the Sanctuary- you can’t follow me up here!”

And he was gone through the well cover, leaving me behind, chuckling lightly.

Ocheeva rarely left the Sanctuary except for the trips with (what one would be presume) the Black Hand- and since she had just returned from one, I assumed I would find her somewhere within the Sanctuary.

I checked her room, but found that she was absent- so I then made my way into the Training Room, the Living Quarters, and even checked in with the nappingVicente- but I could not find her anywhere. I was walking back through the Entry Hall, a bit perplexed, when she suddenly dropped down from the well ladder.

“Ocheeva! There is something I need to speak with you about-” I started, brandishing the Black Horse Courier article- but she raised her hand for silence.

“But I must speak with you first- it is quite urgent,” she said, and I fell silent, the parchment falling to my side. She seemed quite serious, and I felt my attention completely torn from my original purpose.

“I have just received a sealed letter from a Dark Brotherhood courier. I recognize this type of parcel. It contains sealed orders. It's addressed to you...”

“Sealed orders? Who sends sealed orders-”

“…from Lucien Lachance,” she finished, and I fell silent, my mouth agape. “It would seem the Black Hand itself has a task for you.”

“The Black…Black Hand? Lucien Lachance?” I replied faintly, in a bit of shock.

“Indeed, Adrienne- and you must open these sealed orders immediately, and follow their instructions to the letter,” she said sternly, but her expression was kind.

“Yes… yes, of course!”

She handed me an envelope, made of the smoothest, most expensive parchment. The front read simply “Adrienne”, written in an elegant, decorated script. I flipped it over and found that a deep red wax seal held it closed, the insignia consisting of two “L’s” intertwined and circled by the half-moon.

Ocheeva clapped an affectionate hand on my shoulder before making her way to her room, giving me my privacy. Before she closed the doors behind her, however, she turned back and said “Oh yes- I believe it now to be safe and appropriate for you to leave the Sanctuary’s walls.”

Before this would have most probably caught my attention, but my original aim for speaking to Ocheeva had been completely forgotten. The letter, which I held tenderly in my hands, was all I was focused on- a letter from Lucien Lachance himself. I had not seen the enigmatic man since my initiation, which was now months ago. I wondered what the letter could possibly be about…

I tore the seal from the parchment below it with great care, not tearing a piece of the expensive parchment. Once I had it opened, I removed the intricately folded (and equally fine) parchment from within. I found that my hands were shaking slightly as I unfolded it, and a shiver ran down my spine as I started to read the articulate script.

“Eliminator,

You have served the Dark Brotherhood well in the short time you have been with us. Indeed, the rate of your advancement has been rather remarkable. Now the Black Hand itself is in need of your abilities.

You must proceed with all haste to my private refuge in the ruins of Fort Farragut, located in the forest northeast of the Cheydinhal Sanctuary. When you arrive, we will discuss the nature of your special assignment.

I cannot stress to you enough the importance of your swift arrival at Fort Farragut. There are unseen powers working to unravel the very fabric of the Dark Brotherhood. The Black Hand is counting on you to prevent this disaster.

Do not share the contents of this message with anyone at the Cheydinhal Sanctuary, including Ocheeva, and make no mention of your journey to Fort Farragut! Also, be warned -- my refuge within Fort Farragut is guarded by denizens who will attack any interloper on sight. Get through these rotting sentinels and you will surely have earned the right to visit my private sanctum.

Lucien Lachance”

The name was written extravagantly, with a flourish of loops and lines surrounding his signature. There was no doubt in my mind that this had indeed been composed by Lucien himself- one could recognize the eloquent and fluent words from his speech in his writing instantly.

And as I lowered the letter to my side, I was suddenly aware I was smiling widely, a thrill rising in my stomach. I had a special assignment, from the Black Hand itself! I knew that this did not happen often, for I had discussed it before with Teinaava and Telaendril. And to receive a letter from Lucien Lachance himself, inviting me to the place that he called home… I felt my cheeks burn red, but then chastised myself for such ridiculous and frivolous thoughts. But he had chosen me… over everyone here, he had chosen me…

I was still for a moment, my mind racing with possibilities- before I suddenly leapt into action, as though awaking from a deep sleep from an abrupt sound. I quickly made my way to the Living Quarters and to the chest that I kept my belongings in, searching for something to wear. I held up a looser green shirt, and a form-fitting red vested shirt, and opted for the tighter one- all the while surprised by how steady my hands remained. I pulled on a pair of tight black pants and slipped into my leather boots, which I always used for traveling. It was good to be wearing them again.

I stood up quickly, starting to tie my hair back into it’s customary ponytail- but I stopped in mid-motion, and slowly lowered my hands. My aunt had always said how beautiful my hair looked down, and my family members had echoed the same sentiment after seeing me with my hair down once. And so I left it down, heading out of the well ladder and back into open air again.

* * *

I arrived at the Fort very after only a quarter of an hour of travel, for I was eager to be out of the walls of the musty Sanctuary, and the anticipation for my meeting was nearly overwhelming.

I entered Fort Farragut without worry, believing it to be Lucien’s home, and therefore free of danger- but this thought was quickly proved wrong when an arrow whizzed past my ear, missing my face by inches.

I ducked to the behind a pillar and pulled out my dagger, cursing myself- for I now recalled the last part of the letter- about the “rotting sentinels” that guarded his home. I had only been thinking of the part about getting invited to Lucien’s home.

Another arrow came zipping past my cover, and bounced off the wall in front of me. In my mind I calculated where the creature would be standing from the angle of the shot, and darted around the opposite side of the pillar, dagger outstretched and ready to strike. My foe was a skeleton, holding a rusty old bow and reaching for another arrow. I struck quickly, slicing my dagger against the bones that would have been covered by its neck, snapping them. The skull fell to the floor with a clatter, and the rest of the bones seemed to dissemble before my eyes.

I looked around the old fort, eyeing it distastefully- I now had a feeling this would be more difficult then I had anticipated. I stooped down and picked up the bow and arrow that the felled skeleton had been using, and stuck the quiver on my own back. Stealth was my specialty, and I knew that if I was caught in combat with more then two or three of the skeletons I would most probably be defeated- better to shoot them before they even knew I was there.

And so twenty minutes and thirty arrows later I came to an iron gate, and behind it I could see the obvious signs of inhabitation, and on the walls a tapestry hung, showing the Black Hand of the Dark Brotherhood. I had reached Lucien’s lair, I thought sardonically.

I could not see the man himself within the gate, but the place was not exactly well lit, and many deep shadows dotted the walls- and I knew of his tendency for dramatics. I pulled the lever to open the gate, and as it groaned open I unconsciously found myself adjusting my battle worn clothes and free flying hair. Holding a hand to my dagger’s hilt, just in case, I entered the large chamber.

A solitary bed sat in the corner, with another tapestry above it. Bookcases and tables lay sparsely about the area, and something I think could be recognized as a coffin or sarcophagus sat in front of me. An alchemy set sat on another table, and I could see it was used often. And as I walked further into the room I felt the air grow colder, despite the crackling fireplace- as if a chill had come over me, and I suddenly felt breath upon the back of my neck.

“Welcome to this humble abode, my dear child.”

I turned about quickly, and found Lucien Lachance himself standing inches from me. I took an involuntary step back in alarm, berating myself for having not felt his presence sooner. His eyebrow arched and his lips upturned slightly at the corners, and I realized he was laughing at me.

I took a closer look at the man who had brought me into this assassin lifestyle, and found that not much about him had changed. He still wore the black robes that I had first encountered him with, but they looked quite clean- except for perhaps an almost imperceptible deep red stain on the hems. His hood was pushed back a bit further then the previous times I had seen him, and I could see more of his face. I noticed what looked like a new wrinkle on his forehead, and his eyes seemed, if possible, more deep and full of knowledge. And he was watching me as closely as I was watching him. Once I had finished my inspection I looked into his eyes, and found him staring expectantly back. He was satisfied that I was done, and he spoke again.

“I hope my skeletal friends did not cause you too much trouble.”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” I replied smoothly.

“But ah- it seems that one got you,” he said, and I felt my breath catch up in my chest as he walked closer again, and reached out a black gloved hand towards my face. I watched, perfectly still and breathless, as he wiped a gloved finger against my cheek, holding eye contact all the while, the tension almost blaring. He pulled his hand away slowly and held it up, showing the red stain now upon his finger.

I broke eye contact and lifted an astonished hand to my face, and pulled it away to reveal a smear of blood. I had not even known I had been injured.
“Don’t worry- I do not think it will scar,” he said, his voice slightly bemused.

I started to deny that I was worried about such a trivial matter, but he continued speaking before I could.

“So I take it that you received my parcel, and followed the instructions within? You did not tell anyone of your orders to meet with me, to come to Fort Farragut?” His tone was businesslike, and I was a bit flustered by the abrupt change.

“Yes, yes of course! No one knows I am here.”

“Good…” He was silent then, his eyes distant, as though his thoughts were far off- but after a moment he swept out an arm and motioned towards a table. “You must be weary- would you like to take a seat?” And before waiting for a response he strode over to the table, and I followed obligingly. I sat down in one of the sturdy wooden chairs, and he stood at the head of the table, eyeing the various bottles of wine.

“Would you care for a glass of wine? I find myself suddenly parched,” he said, his voice almost ironic, as though he was in on some secret joke that I could not understand.

“That would be lovely,” I replied politely, and watched as he poured us each a goblet of Tamika’s best. He handed me my glass and then lifted his own, sitting back in his chair heavily. He raised his goblet up in a silent toast, and I followed suite, before taking a deep drink of the fine wine. He did the same, and I watched as he swirled the liquid around in his mouth, savoring every flavor, before swallowing- but as he drank again, and spent several moments swallowing, I wondered if maybe he was just reluctant to speak.

After another moment of silence, Lucien heaved a deep sigh, and he started to speak.

“As I’m sure you know, the Dark Brotherhood is a most ancient organization. We have survived for millennia- and sometimes, to ensure that survival, drastic measures are required.”

“Of course,” I said slowly, wondering where this was going.

“We will do whatever necessary to ensure the sanctity of our Sanctuaries, for is that not what their very name implies? They must be unspoiled, untainted with the poison of betrayal- and so when a situation with such treachery occurs, we often respond without mercy.”

I thought of my conversation with Teinaava, just a few nights ago, about the whispers of a traitor in the guild- the talk of a betrayal within the Brotherhood, someone who was murdering their own family members, breaking the Tenets. It seemed that those whispers had been true… and as I looked into Lucien’s eyes, I felt my blood run cold. His next words were causing him distress- and I had a feeling if they were doing so to Lucien, they would most certainly to me as well. He seemed suddenly restless, and stood from his chair, pacing around the table. And then he began.

“I tell you this because there is now a situation of such disloyalty and betrayal within the Brotherhood, and it needs to be dealt with. Now…a Purification is one of the most extreme measures we are forced to carry out- indeed, it has only been carried out twice- before now, that is.”

“A… Purification?” I echoed his words vaguely. This couldn’t be what it sounded like…

“Yes, a Purification. A very drastic measure, but what some feel-” I could not help but notice the contempt in his voice as he said this. “- a necessary one. You know that the Five Tenets are the laws that guide and protect us; but, sometimes, even they must be broken to protect the purity of our beliefs.” I raised my gaze to his own, looking with horror into his deep, intelligent brown eyes. I knew he could see my fear, but he closed all emotion out of his eyes and became hollow as continued on heedlessly.

“With a Purification, we cleanse the Dark Brotherhood of mistrust and treachery, through the only way we know how- to cause death. Except that now it is within ourselves that this death must take place. Those who are slain are offered to Sithis as a symbol of fealty. And, hopefully, we kill the traitor in the process. Until the Purification is complete, no given Sanctuary will ever be considered secure.”

There was a dull thudding in my ears- I could not feel above the disbelief and horror that struck me. I was being asked to kill all of those within the Cheydinhal Sanctuary- I was being asked, no, ordered to slay those who I had grown to know and love as my family. My only family.

Vicenete’s words of warning were echoing in the back of my mind- the sense of dread that had descended upon me had finally been lifted, only to be replaced by a feeling of horror and pain.

I was only faintly aware that Lucien had risen from his chair and was walking behind me, but my eyes did not follow him- instead they were far away, as I tried to completely grasp what was being said. I couldn’t even comprehend the thought of killing them… Telaendril, Ocheeva, Vicente, Gogron, Teinaava! They were my family, they were my friends… they were of the few people in the world who are like me…

I was startled when I felt hot breath against the back of my neck, and an involuntary shiver ran down my spine. Lucien stood directly behind me, and I could feel the warmth of his body on mine. He leaned over my shoulder and placed a few items in my arms. I knew that if I had not heard the news I just had, I would have been experiencing a very different feeling at that moment.

“These will aid you in your coming task- an always lethally poison apple, and a scroll of deep and dark magic,” he said softly, his breath raising the hair on the back of my neck. It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling.

But he drew back, and I shook my head slightly, trying to clear it. I looked at the apple and the scroll, and did not recognize the markings upon it.
“What is this scroll for?” I asked.

“You of course recall Rufio, the feeble old man I sent you to kill when we first met? He was weak in life, but his spirit is quite angry in death. The scroll will allow you to call upon Rufio's angry ghost for assistance. He will appear, unleash his anger upon your foes, and then disperse.”

I winced as Lucien referred to my family as my ‘foes’. This wasn’t right, it had to be a dream- I could not do this, I just couldn’t! I was silent for a moment, trying to think of a respectful way to decline- but I suddenly just burst out, my voice cracking with emotion.

“No! I cannot kill them, they are my family!”

He looked into my eyes intently, his gaze powerful and unwavering.

“You will come to find, my dear Adrienne, that those you love can always be replaced, no matter how deep you believe your devotion to be. The only constant, the only one who your complete loyalty should lie with, is to the Night Mother and Sithis themselves. For you will never feel whole in life without what they give you- the gift of murder.”

As I looked into Lucien’s eyes, I could see the conviction within them, I could feel the passion and fervor with which he believed his words. His devotion to the Night Mother and Sithis was complete and whole- he would do anything for them. Also within his eyes I saw something else- a sense of understanding that was full of pity, as though he knew what trials I would have to suffer through before my beliefs were as strong as his. But these experiences were necessary, his eyes said.

“Now go!” Lucien exclaimed suddenly, and I looked up wildly into his face. “The Cheydinhal Sanctuary must be Purified! Everyone based out of that location must die if this treachery is to be undone!” He had pulled my chair out from behind me, and was holding my elbow firmly, lifting me into a standing position. He led me to a rope ladder in the corner of the room that I had not noticed before, and gestured upwards. I started to climb mechanically, not even thinking of where I was going. Just before I lifted the trapdoor to climb out of the Speaker’s lair, he spoke again.

“Good luck... my Silencer.”

I turned back, confused- my rank was Executioner, not Silencer- in fact, I had never even heard of the rank Silencer- but he was gone, and I saw only a black void below me.

* * *

The sun was setting and the air was thick with the essence of night as I stumbled about the forest- I was disorientated, an almost drunken feeling of incomprehension. Everything I had come to believe, to honor, I had been told to fracture today. I had been ordered to break The Five Tenets, the only laws that had guided my life this past year. I had been ordered to eliminate the people who were my comrades, my friends, and my family. Ordered by the man who I thought would above all else try to protect his Sanctuary, and it’s members- instead he was asking me to kill them.

As I found a cluster of rocks on the side of a hill, I came to a stop and dropped to my knees, holding my hands out before me, palms up to the darkening sky. My first thought had been complete and total rejection of the very notion- I would not, and could not, kill them.

But if I did not kill them, it seemed very clear to me that I would no longer have a place in the Brotherhood- in fact, I would probably be killed along with them. That wouldn’t solve anything… maybe I could save them, alert them of the danger, and let them escape to safety! But I thought of Lucien’s words, so long ago; “The Brotherhood knows a great many things…”. They had known, without seeing, that Rufio was dead. They would know when the Cheydinhal Sanctuary members were dead, and they would know if I lied about it. I also did not wish to lie to the Brotherhood- or to Lucien.

I thought again of simply not killing them, not alerting them, not doing anything at all; of just leaving the Sanctuary and the Brotherhood altogether- but the very notion was almost inconceivable. What would I do, if not murder? I could kill outside of the Sanctuary, but without the support of the Brotherhood I knew it would be a quick run before I was caught and captured. What other skills did I have, if not in deathcraft? I was fair at alchemy, I supposed- maybe I could open an alchemist shop? I started to brighten up at the fact slightly, thinking of the poisons I could study and brew, and sell to those who would need them… before I fully thought out how incredibly dull that would be. I could never live like that, I realized. I could never live without the thrill of a kill- for it was like a drug, once introduced, you could never be without it again. And plus, leaving would not even save my family’s lives, for they would just be murdered by someone else, some other recruit within the Brotherhood- or maybe even Lucien himself.

I needed the Brotherhood- just as I was a part of it, it was a part of me. My family members would be dying with what they believed in as well, and would join Sithis and the Night Mother in their void. They would have it easy, I thought bitterly. I would be the one left alone, having murdered everyone dear to me. But I would not be alone, I thought suddenly. Lucien Lachance is still here, and would remain so...

I thought of his words, spoken just under an hour ago; “…those you love can always be replaced, no matter how deep you believe your devotion to be…”. And for some reason, I wondered if that statement had applied to me…

But this thought was quickly extinguished by thoughts of the Purification. Over time, I supposed, more members would join the Sanctuary. They would have to be similar to myself, for all within the Brotherhood share the deep association of murder. But would they be the same as my family now? Of course not, I thought at first… but maybe… maybe they could become equal, they could be just as exciting, for one could assume that all assassins had at least an interesting personality to offer.

Time would pass, and with it would go my pain from their deaths. You can always move on, you can always find someone to replace the opening left by the absence of another. If I could just hold on long enough, their deaths would be just mere memories in my past, a flicker in the shadows of my life. I just had to detach myself until this time would come.

And when I stood again, my heart was no longer pounding in my chest, my breath was even and smooth- my hands were no longer shaking and I could walk steadily. I was resigned to the fate that was awaiting me; I had made my choice. I was going to perform the Purification.

* * *

A day and a half later I was crouching behind a row of piled stones that had probably once served as a wall, the night air thick with the approach of rain. A dirt road ran by in front of me, winding its way through the forest and up into Cheydinhal. A bow sat beside me, leaning against the wall, ready to be used at a second’s notice. My quiver held my most expensive and most deadly arrows, waiting to strike the flesh of an unsuspecting victim.

And my victim today would be Telaendril, for I had sat at this very spot for over a day now, awaiting her return from the Imperial City. I had chosen this spot because it lay deep within the wood, where I knew of none who would be daring enough to venture off the road, and because of it’s reputation for banditry- this provided a feasible cover to the law.

I had kept my mind surprisingly clear during the wait- in an almost suspended existence I sat there, anticipating the moment when the Bosmer would walk around the bend. And yet when I saw her slender form appear, I was still unprepared for the reality of what I was about to do.

I grasped my bow unnaturally tight, my fingers shaking only slightly as I reached over my back for an arrow. As I notched it, I tried to contain my composure, for I felt as though my throat was backed up and my head was ringing incessantly.

She was closer now, and as I started to arm the arrow, I felt not the customary thrill of elation- rather, I felt a sense of dread descend about me, and my hands felt heavy and slippery. I was surprised to find that my face was drenched in sweat, and my hands were as well- for I never had perspired during a murder before.

I could not keep my bow steady, no matter how hard I tried- her face kept shaking in and out of my view. I closed my moist eyes in frustration, grimacing for a moment. I tried to clear my mind, I tried to think of other things, of other murders- and when I finally opened them again, they were free of tears; and they were free of emotion. My eyes were hollow, for I felt nothing- I couldn’t feel anything, or this would be impossible.

With one last careful adjustment to my aim, I let the arrow fly. And as it always had, it stuck true.

Her body to fell to the ground, an arrow through her skull, and almost simultaneously the long awaited rain started to pour down. And as I squinted my eyes upwards into the downpour, I knew that sweat and raindrops were not the only liquid streaming down my face.

* * *

Lucien Lachance sighed heavily as he watched a frothy foam appear in the bubbling mortar- he had stirred too many times again. He had watched a similar scene four times now, and found his patience was wearing thin with himself. He was trying to extract a rare ingredient from fire salts, but his concentration was not intense enough for this to be done, and he had now nearly wasted his limited supply.

His pushed his chair back in anger and stood fiercely, striding over to a small table and pouring himself a glass of his finest wine. He swirled it about in his mouth before swallowing, relishing in it’s delicacy- much as he was swirling his thoughts about within his mind.

No matter how hard he tried, he could not push the thought of Adrienne and her task from his mind. He thought of the image of her face as he told her of her orders to murder the Sanctuary, and he felt a chill run down his spine. The look was one of such disbelief, such anguish… he could feel the pain coming from her very soul. He had a certain understanding of this pain, for he had had to do things to reach his position in the Brotherhood as well, things he pushed deep into the shadowy recesses of his mind, for the very mention of them was almost unbearable.

Lucien was also worrying about the decision she would make, for he was truly unsure about her motives when leaving his Fort. She had seemed so confused, so lost- but he knew that he could not aid her, for this was something she had to face alone. This is why he had ushered her from his own private Sanctuary in such an abrupt manner- if she had sat there for one moment longer he would not have been able to resist the urge to direct her, to reassure her. This was not a feeling that Lucien was accustomed to experiencing, and he found that he was not overly fond of such an uncontrollable urge.

And even if she had chosen to perform the Purification, it was the most difficult thing she would ever have to face physically, not even thinking of the mentality of the deed; for they were eight, highly skilled members of the Dark Brotherhood, hand picked by Lucien himself- and only one of her. She would be very, very lucky to complete the mission unscathed. What if she had failed, and was killed? It had been over a day… he thought, clenching his fist in worry.

But then he chastised himself- he was being ridiculous. There was still plenty of time before he should actually start to become concerned. He was becoming soft in his older age, he decided brusquely.

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard a sound coming from right above him. He leapt backwards, dropping his goblet of wine with splash and drawing his dagger in one smooth motion. He slipped the weapon back into its sheath, however, when he identified his visitor.

“I have an urgent message!” an official Dark Brotherhood courier exclaimed, leaping off from the rope ladder and landing in front of Lucien with a thump. He was shakily unraveling the ties holing his messenger bag closed, but his eyes were upon Lucien.

“Ocheeva sends word- Telaendril has been murdered! Her body was found on the road to Cheydinhal,” he said, finally opening the bag and passing over a hastily sealed letter to Lucien.

He took the parcel calmly, yet his mind was racing- the courier stood expectantly, shifting from foot to foot with impatience- and Lucien enjoyed waiting for a near moment before dismissing him, smiling at the courier’s awkwardness, for the man had several others to deliver the news to, and not much time.

Lucien opened the letter and skimmed it, finding a detailed analysis of Ocheeva’s suspicions about the murder of Telaendril, and what to do about the possibility of a traitor; which was all-irrelevant to him. He crumbled it up calmly and tossed it in the fire, watching it light into a orange dance of flame and disintegrate into ash. His face was illuminated orange from the glow of the flames, an almost resigned, faint smile upon his lips.

The Purification had begun.