Chapter Fifteen: Something Wicked This Way Comes

Lucien Lachance eyed the city of Leyawiin with obvious distaste, his lips slightly pursed and eyes narrowed. The sun was finishing its descent, only the last golden rays remaining to shine out over the mountain peaks. But at least he could see the sun, he thought ruefully- this was his first visit to Leyawiin where the weather had been completely free of rain.

Lucien’s pace was swift as he made his way toward the city gate, his stride determined and resolute; and his mind was working in such the same manner. He had much to ponder on, for he brought information of events that would alter the course of Dark Brotherhood’s history… and, it seemed, not in a necessarily positive way.

When he had received word to meet with Ungolim, Lucien knew it could not bode well for himself. He had been right, in a sense- only the truth had turned out far worse then anything he could have anticipated. But then again, he mused; he should have expected this outcome. It was reasonable, in the circumstances, to choose this course of action- if you were a rash, foolish man. Which was the very core of Ungolim’s being, Lucien thought with a sneer.

Ever since Ungolim had risen into power, he had made a great many changes in the manner in which the Brotherhood was run- and a most notable change was that any form of ceremonial meeting between the Black Hand had been completely eradicated. Instead, everything was now handled by courier and letter.

Since the Brotherhood had been formed, there had always been assemblies that took place under the greatest secrecy between the Black Hand- for they were the organization’s ruling body, and decisions were made after each and every member’s opinion had been heard, with the Listener’s word being the final. Now, however, Ungolim had removed any chance of his own decisions being contested by disbanding these meetings, for the Black Hand would now receive news only through letters.

These letters typically bore most grievous news, often of the newest and most recent nonsensical scheme that Ungolim had concocted and carried out, without the advice or permission of the Black Hand. And yet most agreed that the Listener was simply a cautious man, and that his actions showed he only wished to keep the integrity of the Black Hand intact.

However, a select few (such as Lucien) realized the complete truth of the matter, and it was thus; Ungolim was a fool. He was not worthy of the position of Listener, and he himself realized that. Yet he was power hungry, and did not wish to lose his position because of incompetence. So he rarely allowed anyone from the Brotherhood to speak with him directly, except for his lackey Alval- the Apprentice of the Listener. Most of the decisions Ungolim came to were absolutely ridiculous, but because the Black Hand was not permitted to meet anymore nothing could be done about it. And that was exactly the case with Lucien’s orders presently.

The meeting had been everything Lucien had dreaded it to be, and far worse. After Ungolim had shared his plans, Lucien had been nearly stunned into silence by their rashness, their severity. But not for long was he quiet, for he knew this opportunity to argue his opinion would not arise again.

He had tried to reason with the Bosmer, tried to make him realize that there were other options that could be carried out before taking such drastic measures- that there were other leads that could be followed. But no, he would not listen to such rationale. Ungolim felt he could do whatever he pleased, and damn everyone else’s thoughts or opinions. And unfortunately, this was quite true. Ungolim (for whatever unknown reason) was Lucien’s superior, the Listener of the Black Hand- and that meant Lucien had to follow his orders, no matter how completely unreasonable and utterly ridiculous they were.

And now Lucien had been sent by Ungolim like a common courier to inform Alval Uvani of the situation. The apprentice traveled all throughout province of Cyrodiil under the guise of a merchant, making weekly trips to all of the members of the Black Hand. This meant that the Black Hand would get an almost weekly update of the going-on’s of the Listener’s decisions. However, this week, Ungolim had informed Lucien that he (the Listener) would be going to Morrowind to meet with their sectors there. As a result, Lucien would have the lovely task of informing Alval of the news as soon as possible, by riding down to Leyawiin and catching the apprentice before he left for Bravil.

Lucien carried with him a satchel, filled with the letters Ungolim had prepared for each member of the Black Hand to receive. At least Lucien had only been given the task to give these letters to Alval to deliver, and he himself would not have to do so. Yet even this was trying his patience; the Listener had known he could have sent a courier to do this task, but sent Lucien instead, as an insult to his worth and abilities.

Lucien’s expression was taut and his eyes hard as he brooded over the situation, his pace slowing as he approached the city wall. He had left his steed about an eight-mile up the road, as she was an easily distinguishable creature and he would rather she was not sighted near the city.

His expression became even sourer as he slipped into the Leyawiin city gates, glaring distastefully down at his muddied boots, his black hood pulled far over his face. But there was no need for this disguise, for the streets seemed to be deserted. The sun had all but disappeared behind the mountains now, and the air was cool and dark. He walked cautiously down the muddied road, his footsteps soft and silent.

He was heading towards the home of Alval Uvani, on the opposite end of town. He placed a hand on the satchel of letters at his side, and was smiling darkly at the thought of forcing them down Ungolim’s throat when he heard something up ahead of him, causing his musings to come to an abrupt halt. In a flash he darted into the alley between the church and a cottage, pressing his back against the slick stone. There was silence, and then he heard it again. Lucien slowly tilted his head around the corner, looking down the road toward the source of the sound.

He could see nothing in the darkness, but he knew there was a pool of water ahead, surrounded by a cluster of cottages. He was quite certain the sound he heard was splashing, and when it rang out again he breathed a soft sigh of relief. It was merely someone out for a nighttime swim. He leaned forward, pushing himself gracefully form the wall, and started to head back into the central street.

He had taken barely two steps before he had darted back into the shadows, for he had heard another startling sound- only this time much closer. He need only search for a moment before sighting the source. Across the street, at the establishment called the Five Claws Lodge, the shutters of a window lay open, clanging against the wall with the breeze. He could make out the faint silhouette of someone poking their head out, checking up and down the street. And then, to Lucien’s utter astonishment (and a bit of amusement), the person disappeared for a moment back into the room, and seconds later instead of a head popping out, someone stuck their leg through the window.

Lucien watched as the person (who he could now tell was a woman, because of the skirt she was wearing) pushed the other leg out of the window, followed by her body. He shirted closer the edge of the building he was concealed behind, watching as the woman quickly adjusted her clothes and looked about warily. He could tell, as if with a sixth sense, or perhaps recognition in how he himself acted, that this person was about to commit a crime… or just had.

Lucien could not make out the face of the figure in the shade; all he could glimpse was long ponytail of straight, jet black hair, and pale, alabaster skin. The woman was of average height, and had a slim, light frame. From what Lucien had seen of her legs whilst she was climbing out the window, they had been toned and muscular, like that of one who spends much time outdoors or traveling. As she started to walk down the street, towards where Lucien was concealed in the alley, he could see that her steps were calculated and silent- so she was a thief, or a murderer, Lucien concluded.

And as she brushed past the alleyway in which he still stood, she seemed to sense his presence, as she turned her head slightly in his direction, her frame becoming stiff and wary. A ray of moonlight shone down upon her, and Lucien got a clear view of the woman’s face. The recognition nearly physically staggered him as her eyes met his. Those chilling, blue eyes…

One could not forget those eyes, and Lucien certainly had not. Adrienne… the woman with no last name, whom he had welcomed into the Sanctuary just under a year ago. He still remembered his first meeting with her, when he visited her while she slept in the house of the very woman she had just mercilessly slain. He remembered when she had opened her eyes after he had awakened her, that even in the darkness they stood out. Such a piercing blue, such a sharp and steady gaze… the eyes of a born killer.

He felt a shiver run involuntarily down his spine at her stare, and his breath caught up in his throat as he felt the breeze from her walking past, and he inhaled her scent; it was something like Nightshade, his favorite flower. She seemed not to notice him in the darkness, even though he could swear she looked right into him. He breathed out a sigh once she had made her quiet way further down the street, and he chanced a look out. She was heading straight for the pool in which he had heard splashing, and as she drew closer she slowed her steps.

She seemed to spot the person in the pool, and dropped down into a crouch, her body becoming still as a wolf stalking its prey. And as she did this, Lucien was hit with a sudden wave of dawning realization.

“Of course…” he murmured, letting out a soft breath of silent laughter. He should have understood the situation immediately- but then again, he reasoned with himself, his mind was already filled with other consuming matters. So Adrienne was here to kill the Imperial scum, Adamus Phillida… and that must be him, there in the pool.

His lips were upturned at the corners as Lucien watched, entranced, as Adrienne reached over her shoulder and drew her bow, gripping it firmly but almost tenderly, followed by a long shafted arrow, still slightly moist from the rain days before. She slipped silently between a row of houses to her left, slinking off into the darkness along the city wall. She rounded a corner and disappeared from Lucien’s view.

Lucien let out a breath he did not realize he had been holding; he had become caught up in the thrill of the hunt, the ecstasy of a slow and steady stalking of the prey. He had to keep watching, he had to keep going- he could not stop now.

He carefully made his way from the hiding spot behind the church and glided over to an alley facing the pool, pressing himself against the wall. He started to search for Adrienne again, his very soul reaching out to join her in her hunt. It only took a moment of carefully scanning the shadows of the castle wall for him to spot Adrienne, her dark form blending in with the shade so that she was nearly invisible to those without a trained eye.

He admired his fellow Dark Brotherhood member as she pulled closer to the pool, her steps all carefully controlled; and yet, Lucien could see through all of this. He could feel her lust for the kill, could sense her need for blood, how she craved for the high, the ecstasy of taking life from another… for he knew and understood this feeling all too well. It was a feeling he was right now sharing with her, whether she knew it or not.

Adrienne had pulled in close to the pool now, cautiously manipulating the shadows to stay hidden. He could almost feel her heart beating hard within her chest, for his was now as well. The thrill was rising within them as the prey remained unaware of the danger it was in.

Lucien’s eyes were wide and his expression almost hungry, carnal, as he watched Adrienne’s eyes light up as his were, the moonlight reflecting off of her eager face. She too was caught up in the moment, for nothing else seemed to matter, just the target at hand, what they both were longing so deeply for.

His breath caught up in his chest as she made a misstep, causing a stone to tumble into the pool with a very clear splash. She froze, as did Lucien, muscles perfectly still, not breathing, as Adamus stopped mid-stroke, straightening his back and listening intently. Time seemed to suspend itself as Lucien watched on, eyes never leaving the scene before him, the tension almost unbearable. After a moment that lasted immeasurably, Phillida appeared to disregard the noise and continued his leisurely swim.

Lucien let out a silent sigh, echoing Adrienne’s own as her shoulders sunk down and their bodies’ released some of the stress. But it was right back to the hunt, and he felt the now familiar rush flowing through his veins, a building of such powerful tension that it was barely restrained. But they must contain it; they must, for when the release came, the kill, it would be all the more powerful.

Watching on, Lucien saw Adrienne positioning herself behind a large boulder, gripping her bow with white-knuckled fingers. He felt her attempts to keep her breaths long and steady, but it was no use. Their breathing started to come in short, shuddering gasps of barely contained lust. He fervently wished that he was beside her, about to aid in the kill, his hands upon the weapon preparing to fire!

She was fitting the Rose of Sithis into the bow, slowly sliding her hand along its shaft as she drew it back carefully. Lucien could not have looked away if he wished. All he had, all he felt, was with the scene before him.

The arrow was pulled back to its furthest point, Adrienne holding it as steady as she could. He felt a thrill rise up from within his soul, holding his breath and his heart racing, nearly bursting from anticipation- he watched her, sensing the same feelings with her. It was an almost electrical stimulation, one that was building and straining until the very second of the kill, the only time it could be released… it wouldn’t be long now, they couldn’t hold it all in much longer…

In that as second, as she took her final aim with the Rose, she leaned her head back and the moonlight suddenly illuminated her face. Her features were still, no expression, not even the slightest upturn of her lips. Yet her eyes; her bright, glowing eyes… he had seen her before, but never like this. She looked so… alive. And he knew that if someone had been watching him at this moment, they would say the same of him. Finally, in unison they took one last deep, shuddering breath, eyes sparkling maliciously and hearts soaring as one, as Adrienne slid her fingers off the shaft of the arrow, in a second that seemed to last eternally.

Time slowed as they watched the arrow glide gracefully towards its target. The tension was all but unbearable; they felt the familiar rush and wave of desire rush throughout their bodies… it was coming, soon now. They had passed the point of no return. As though in a dream, all they felt, all they were, was with that arrow, waiting to penetrate the flesh.

And after an agonizingly long moment, the arrow pierced through Adamus Phillida’s throat with a satisfying “thunk”.

The release! Oh at last, the glorious, blessed release! Their bodies exploded as one, eyes closed in the final moment, only able to recognize the inexplicable feelings coursing through their bodies, from their very souls. The stalking of the prey, the preparation of the strike- this had been a build up to this final moment, the moment of the kill, of the release. There was little that could surpass the feelings engulfing the pair of them at that moment.

A period of hard breathing and vague awakening of the senses, eyes fluttering and smile upon their faces followed. Gradually, with a slow spreading warmth, they began to have full control of their bodies once again. Their breath was still coming in short pants, as though they had been running a marathon, adrenaline rushing. The after-effects of the kill were still tingling throughout their veins, and it left a suspended state of elation that neither could shake.

After a moment, Adrienne stirred herself and started to wade into the pool, her eyes still aflame from the kill. Lucien watched her intently, wondering what her intentions were, his chest still heaving as he breathed in hard. She flipped over the body, lifting his arm up- Lucien then remembered the second part of the contract, to bring the finger to the Imperial City- but suddenly she stopped, dropping the arm back into the water. Her body was unmoving, stiff, and her expression was perfectly still. Only her eyes betrayed any emotion- the normal icy blue now turned to an almost stormy gray, as though her inner self was in conflict.

He watched on, his expression bewildered as she stood in silence for near a minute. He wondered at first if she felt some guilt, some remorse over the act; but no, he thought. Something completely unexpected, something that she had not anticipated had just happened, Lucien decided. All of a sudden, he heard something that made his heart stand still.

Slurred voices, the sound of armor grating together, of clanking boots- the unmistakable alarm of the approach of guards… yet Adrienne still sat unmoving, her eyes fixed upon the face of the man before her. What in the name of Sithis was she doing? Didn’t she hear the guards approaching? What was so interesting about that old fetcher’s face? Lucien thought, frustrated beyond belief.

He closed his eyes, releasing a deep, exasperated and foreboding breath when the guards stopped in their tracks as they spotted Adrienne, who had looked up a split second before. There was an instant of silence as the guard’s took in the scene before them, but it was over quickly and they started to shout and wave their arms, for they had no weapons. Immediately she started to sprint out of the pond, heading up towards the road- but the guards were going around, intending to cut her off. She quickly realized this and veered her course. Lucien’s eyes widened as she saw where she was headed- straight at his alley, straight at him.

He was starting to back away, so she could move through the alley without running right into him, when he heard a resounding crack, followed in quick succession by another. He saw it in the way that Adrienne’s eyes widened that they were throwing something, probably pebbles or rocks by the sound of it, at her. He realized he wouldn’t have time to move, she was coming at him too fast…

And then, just as she was about to enter the alley, Lucien’s gaze focused upon her face. He did not think she could see him yet, but she would any second. All was silent as he gazed into her now fearful eyes; he didn’t hear the shouts of the guards, he didn’t feel the moist air around him, he didn’t hear the footsteps…

But this moment was shattered when her head suddenly jerked violently to the left, her eyelids crushing shut in pain. Adrienne fell to the ground, right at Lucien’s feet. She was unconscious.

He was stunned for no more then a second, at which then he realized he could either save her, or leave her to her fate.

Lucien’s mind was racing- what in the name of Sithis was he supposed to do now? She had made a mistake, she had stood there like a fool, staring at the dead body, and been caught unawares when the guard came. She should have to face a fate befit of her actions. Yet she had executed the man perfectly, finally completing what three other Dark Brotherhood members had attempted. Albeit she did have an easier job of it, because Phillida was now retired, but still… she was valuable to the Brotherhood, and may become even more so in the near future. Her contracts before this had been flawless. Ocheeva always spoke highly of her abilities, along with her mental state. She was strong, she was skilled, and she was important.

Yes, that’s why. She was needed for the guild. He would save her because of the Brotherhood’s need for her. Satisfied with his reasoning, Lucien bent down and scooped up Adrienne’s light frame without another instant’s hesitation, and cast an invisibility spell on the both of them.

He was at the city gate before the guard’s had started to search the alley where her body had lain, balancing Adrienne over his right shoulder. She was no heavy load, and he was not slowed down much by her weight. He was to the place he had left his horse, Shadowmere, in a few moments.

As Lucien hoisted Adrienne up onto the steed, a piece of parchment fluttered out from the folds of her skirt. It seemed as though it had been folded and unfolded many times, and by the coloration looked as though it had seen better days. It landed next to a small puddle in the slightly muddy ground, a corner instantly saturated.

Lucien bent down swiftly and scooped it from the ground, wiping the dirt and droplet of water with a black gloved hand. His eyes darted to Adrienne’s unconscious form, slumped over the neck of his dark steed, and back to the parchment. He couldn’t deny his curiosity, for this piece of paper obviously held some importance to the girl if she kept it on her person, and it seemed very old because of its condition…

After sending one last furtive glance at Adrienne, and a quick look down the road, Lucien carefully peeled apart the edges of the parchment with lean and steady fingers, wary of tearing the fragile material. It was a long bit of parchment, and was filled with writing. He scanned it, quickly bored when he realized it was a letter to a gift giving service, requesting presents for the writer’s children. He was bewildered- Adrienne did not have a family, or children… or could she?

But as he skipped to the end of the letter, to the signature at the bottom- he then understood. It was signed “Perennia Draconis”- the woman who Adrienne had murdered up in the little cottage up North. She had carried this with her, since the day she murdered her? Adrienne carried this letter on her person? Was this a sign of weakness, of guilt? Or was it something else; a reminder, or a comfort?

He thought once again of her hesitation, her moment of weakness after the killing of Phillida- there was no denying she had enjoyed the kill, that had been quite evident. Yet she had stared into the man’s face and been engrossed in thought, so much so that she had been caught completely unawares by the guards. Could she really have felt guilt, even after killing for so long? Lucien did not think this was the case, although it would be the most straightforward explanation.

There were those who looked at killing as simply a profession, a way to earn money; some who killed for the feeling of being completely in control, of playing god; some who killed on impulse, without control or thought- but most had something in common- they killed without emotional attachment. Lucien had found, however, that those who murdered with passion, with emotion- they could be just as effective. He thought of killing as an art, each death a masterpiece on the great canvas created by Sithis, and his Night Mother. He could not help how he felt, it was just what he believed, what he was. And he was starting to wonder if Adrienne was the same.

Now pensive, Lucien carefully folded the letter up again and slid it into the folds of Adrienne’s dress, patting it into place- and he could not help but note the firmness of her leg muscle as he did so. He was still for a moment, his hand upon her leg, before he suddenly turned about, looked down the ominously misty road, and pulled his black hood far over his face. He hopped lightly onto Shadowmere’s high back, reining her in and turning the horse about, keeping Adrienne balanced between his arms.

The black mare reared, pranced in place a bit, before setting off in full gallop, heading East around the city of Leyawiin. Lucien leaned far over the horse’s back, holding firmly Adrienne against his chest. He reckoned this horse was the fastest in Cyrodiil, and that was no light claim. At this rate, they would be in Cheydinhaal in less than five hours. Lucien was bringing her back the Sanctuary- he felt that she needed to be taken far away from the crime, and the most obvious safe place for her was the Sanctuary. And, part of him did wish to visit the Sanctuary, for reasons he would never admit too.

And so he sped off into the night; his dark eyes gleaming as the wind blew his hood back and his freed hair whipped back in the breeze, with arms tight around the limp form of Adrienne.

 

* * *

Four and a half hours later Lucien brought Shadowmere to a halt outside the back gate into Cheydinhaal. He swiftly slid from the horse’s back, robes billowing in the midnight breeze, and slipped Adrienne off into his arms. Balancing her carefully, he gave Shadowmere a whack on the rump and watched as the horse ran up a trail to the West. He turned about quickly, his hood still hanging loosely at his shoulders, and slipped into the city, making his way to the Abandoned House as swiftly and silently as he could. He slipped between shadow and shade, dodging the eyes of the patrolling guardsmen.

Lucien opened the door to the Abandoned House awkwardly, straining not to drop Adrienne as he stepped into the thin door frame sideways, her feet bumping roughly against the stone. He stopped in his tracks, holding his breath as she gave a little moan and shifted her muscles- but he let out a relieved sigh when she did not wake.

He descended the stairs into the basement quickly, and shuffled through narrow tunnel leading to the door. He hastily uttered the password, not letting the door finish its words before he shoved it open roughly and strode to his right. It was very late at night, and he fervently hoped that all of the Sanctuary’s members were asleep in their beds…

Lucien walked softly down the corridor into the Living Quarters, his feet treading gently upon the stone floors. There was a sudden noise that sounded almost like an explosion, causing Lucien to nearly drop Adrienne in alarm- but as he stood dead still, leaning against the wall of the corridor, the sound came again seconds later… and again… and he grinned ruefully to himself. It was simply someone snoring- and by the sounds of it, the only one who could create such a ruckus would be Gogron Gro-Bolmog.

When he finally came to the room, he found that three of the beds were filled- and by the shape and size of the lumps he could deduce that they were Gogron, M’raaj Dar, and Antoinetta. They all seemed to be sleeping soundly, despite the absurd volume of Gogron’s snores.

Lucien went to the bed next to the smallest lump of covers, which he now knew for certain was Antoinetta because of the mess of blond hair poking out from above the rim of the blanket. He laid Adrienne down tenderly on the mattress, pulling aside the covers and placing her beneath them. Had he been concentrating more on his surroundings and less on ensuring Adrienne’s comfort, he may have noticed two eyes snap open behind him, watching him intently as he leaned over Adrienne’s motionless form.

Lucien swept a stray hair from Adrienne’s forehead with his thumb, cupping her face with his hands. After a moment, he leaned down and pressed his lips softly against her forehead. He pulled up quickly, but hovered inches above her face, and murmured: “Blessings of the Night Mother, my dear Child,” before standing straight again.

He did not see as the eyes behind him narrowed, or the white-knuckled fist that clenched a fold of blanket in response to his actions. Lucien walked to the center of the room and paused; a flood of memories hit him quite suddenly, and most unexpectedly. He remembered the times he spent in this room, when he was no more then a Murderer for the Dark Brotherhood… he remembered those who he had spent his time with, his fellow assassins... most were dead now, lost during contracts. An assassin should expect such things, but it would take a lot before one would become used to them. And, as he had learned, there was no use thinking of such things, for you could do nothing to change them.

As Lucien stirred himself from such foolish meditations, he heard the sound of approaching footsteps. There were two pairs of feet, he decided- and they sounded very much alike in gait and step… and Lucien recognized the walks, out of familiarity. Ocheeva and Teinaava were approaching, and he was cornered. It wasn’t that he feared them, or that he had any reason not to see them, Lucien reasoned. It was just that their knowing of his deed could complicate things. That’s all he cared for, he convinced himself.

But there was not anything he could do now, except face the twin Shadowscales. He could hear that they were talking in low voices, but their tone was excited. Lucien continued to walk, meeting them in the doorway to the Living Quarters. They did not seem surprised to see him, for they had both probably heard his approach as he had heard their’s.

“Dearest Speaker! It is an honor to have you among us- tell me, have you come to celebrate the news of Phillida’s demise?” Teinaava exclaimed, affectionately clapping Lucien on the shoulder.

“How do you know of Phillida’s death?” he asked sharply.
Teinaava looked taken aback at his tone, but Ocheeva answered smoothly.

“I felt my heart soar with Sithis’ love the moment the pig drew his last breath. And it seems, by your reaction, that I am not wrong…” she trailed off, gazing at Lucien expectantly. Teinaava, however, was looking around Lucien, at the bed where Adrienne lay. Lucien did not answer Ocheeva, but watched as Teinaava recognized the bed’s occupant.

“Adrienne! She’s back! But how…” but Teinaava too trailed off. He raised his eyes slowly to Lucien, and then darted back to Adrienne, and to Lucien again. The unmistakable signs of dawning comprehension appeared on his face, and Lucien gave a silent sigh. Ocheeva sensed there was something she was missing, and followed her brother’s eyes from the bed and to Lucien. They both started at him, their eyes perplexed, but in the same sense an understanding within them. Lucien knew he had to say something.

“I brought her here to keep her safe- I’m sure she will fill you in on the details. One thing before I depart however; do not tell her it was I that brought her here. If she asks, as I’m sure she will, simply inform her that a Brotherhood courier was responsible, or any other suitable story you can think of.”

There was a silence, in which both Ocheeva and Teinaava nodded their heads obediently- but Teinaava was fidgeting, and Lucien knew he wished to speak.

“But won’t she know it was you? Won’t it be rather obvious?” he blurted out. Ocheeva sent him a dark look, and then turned to Lucien apologetically. Lucien’s expression turned hard at the question, but his tone was even when he replied.

“She was not aware of my presence, so no Teinaava, it will not be obvious; quite the opposite, really…”

At these words, Teinaava looked at Lucien with such a maddening sense of understanding that Lucien felt a sudden fiery anger ignite within him- the Argonian’s expression was one of a parent who understood the dilemma of their child, but could only watch and let the child learn for themselves what the outcome would be. He, Lucien, was no child, and there was nothing in this situation that should illicit such a reaction. The Argonian didn’t know what was going on, as much as he may think he did… for there was nothing going on!

Yet Lucien kept his expression neutral, knowing from experience that there was no use arguing with the pair, once they had made their minds up about something. He instead pretended to ignore the implications of Teinaava’s look, and spoke again in a more business-like tone.

“Now I really must be going, I have important business to attend to this night, and I’m behind schedule already…” Teinaava’s face fell as Lucien nodded to the two and started to walk away; the Shadowscale’s expression seemed almost disappointed, as though he felt pity… but then a sound came from behind them.

All three turned to find Antoinetta sitting up in her bed, putting on a great show of yawning and stretching, before drowsily speaking.

“What’s going on?” She asked, looking at the group of them. She then dramatically widened her eyes and tilted her head. “Speaker! What a surprise! Tell me, what brings you here?”

Lucien ground his teeth; if he wanted to reach Alval before the Dunmer left for Bravil, he would have to leave now. He had not wanted to be seen by any of the member’s of the Sanctuary, yet now here he stood with three of them waiting to hear the story of Phillida’s demise, and his explanation for being at the Sanctuary. He did not wish what could be his last meeting with them to be ended harshly, but he really needed to be going…

Antoinetta had climbed out of her bed and was making her way to the group, her eyes set eagerly upon Lachance. He knew he had to extricate himself now, or be stuck with the woman’s incessant chattering for hours.

“Teinaava and Ocheeva will explain. And now I really must go- Night Mother be with you all, in this life and the next” Lucien said briskly, and he swiveled on his heel, marching up the corridor with long strides before any of the three could reply.

If he had waited just a moment, he would have seen the crestfallen face of Antoinetta turn to one of resentment and bitterness, her eyes narrowed and lips tight. And then he might have noticed how Teinaava and Ocheeva exchanged ominous looks.

Things that had been brewing long beneath the surface were starting to emerge, and that strain would only make the outcome more explosive when finally unveiled. Dark times lay ahead, even darker then Ocheeva, Teinaava, or even Adrienne could conceive… and they were fast approaching.

Chapter Sixteen: The Calm Before the Storm

Dark. Everything was black- I could see nothing, hear nothing, feel nothing... An eternity could seem to pass in the span of seconds, while hours felt like mere moments.

Disorientation. Bewilderment. Nothing made sense. All was a shadowy and dim, with only a flicker of faint light in the distance. I was vaguely aware of my existence in a dark place- and that was all. Everything else was gone, everyone else lifeless and decaying. I was alone.

But suddenly, after what seemed many lifetimes, out of the darkness came the echoing sounds of mirth; of chuckling, snorting laughter.

In a flash of brilliant color, of blinding radiance, everything turned pure and white. I could hear clearly, but still nothing could be seen.

“Remember... remember Ungeval?” More laughter.

“That stupid fetcher, we all knew he was a sorry excuse for an assassin… How the hell he got into the Brotherhood, I’ll never know…” As I listened my hearing became clearer, and with the high pitched Elven voice came the threads of familiarity.

“But by Sithis, we made our feelings for him well known!”

“We were rather cruel… I can’t say that I blame him for trying to prove his worth to us…” came a hissing, gravelly tone; unmistakably an Argonian. I knew that I recognized this voice as well, yet my mind could not connect a face.

“Oh come on, you can’t feel bad for something as pathetic as that vermin was!”

“Ah, you misunderstand me. I feel no pity- only understanding,” was the smooth, patient reply.

A silence followed, and with it I felt a rising alarm, as though I was plunging into the darkness again- but it was broken before my descent was complete.

“Well I feel no… understanding for the bloke. He was a fool, and deserved the fate that befell him.” This voice was a deep, booming sound, most unlike the other two. I recognized it as well, but still could not put a face to it.

“Have you ever even heard the entire story?” asked the Argonian. “No? Well, Ocheeva explained it to me, and I must admit it is rather amusing…” He hissed. “Well you know Ungeval went to the Imperial City, aiming to kill Phillida. Except when he arrived there, he must have realized that he had no idea where to find the bastard. So he of course decided to start asking around… but here’s the catch- he started asking the guards where to find him!”

“By Sithis!” exclaimed the Elven voice, while the other boomed with a thunderous laughter. The Argonian chuckled before continuing.

“I promise you, it’s gets better- so naturally the guards were suspicious of his motives for finding Phillida, and it soon got round that some fool Bosmer was looking to assassinate him. Instead of simply arresting him, the guards decided to have a bit of fun. One of them told Ungeval to seek out Phillida’s good friend, who would always know his whereabouts… but here’s the catch- it was really Phillida himself they showed him too, who had been told of the situation and plan beforehand!”

All three voices joined in equally malicious laughter.

“What are you waiting for? Get on with it!” cried out the deep voice throatily. “Ha-ha, well, Ungeval approaches Phillida in the Market District, still unaware of his true identity. Phillida inquires, calm as you please, as to why he, Ungeval, would wish to know the location of such a man. Ungeval replies ‘Are you fond of Adamus?’ (Even though he was just told it was his best friend) Phillida says that he’s not fond of him, quite the opposite really, and so the fetcher Ungeval outright admits that he plans to assassinate him!”

“I can’t believe that I am still surprised at this behavior from him…”

“Wait, wait, there’s more- Phillida then goes on as if to point himself out somewhere behind Ungeval, who of course turns about eagerly- and the Imperial pig casually chops the Bosmer’s head off! Plus, they were standing at the edge of those bathing pools, so the body fell straight into the pool- and Phillida left it there for a week, to show what happens to those that try and kill him!”

As the three voices descended into booming laugher again, my eyes snapped open and the light flooded in, temporarily blinding me. My gaze darted around for several moments as I tried to place my surroundings- the stone ceiling above me, the soft mattress beneath me, the thick wool blankets enveloping me- before I understood where I was. The Sanctuary, in Cheydinhal… and suddenly I could recall the faces of those I heard laughing- Gogron, Telaendril and Teinaava!

I rolled over onto my side and faced towards the noise, but instantly regretted it when my head started to throb relentlessly. I winced in agony, trying to close out wave after wave of pain that flooded my skull. After a calming moment, in which the aching within my head started to subside, I opened my eyes once more.

The laughter had started to die away, and Telaendril (whose face was the only one I could see) was wiping her eyes and sighing comfortably, while Gogron and Teinaava’s forms still shook slightly with content chortles.

I watched them, my mind still buzzing in uncertainty. After a moment, before I could speak, Telaendril’s eyes went past Gogron’s face and met mine. Her expression changed from one of amusement to surprise and concern.

“Adrienne!” she exclaimed. Teinaava immediately swiveled about in his chair, turning to face me, followed shortly by a puzzled Gogron.

“You’re awake! How are you feeling?” Teinaava implored, with concern evident in his tone.

I was about to answer when a sudden realization hit; I didn’t know why my head hurt. The last thing I could remember was falling asleep in the Sanctuary- so what could explain my waking up with an injured skull, not to mention the obvious distress that my family members were in about my condition? I started to feel a swell of something one might call panic, but my thoughts were interrupted by Teinaava’s voice.

“Adrienne, can you not speak? Say something!” I was suddenly aware that the Argonian had risen from his chair and had moved very close to my bed, his brow creased in worry as he watched my expression. Gogron and Telaendril both held similar looks of apprehension. I shook my head slightly before speaking.

“I…” My voice was oddly croaky, so I cleared my throat before continuing. “Yes, I can talk…”

Teinaava let out a sigh at these words, and my other family member’s shoulders seemed to sag a bit at the release of worry. But I was by no means comforted.

“But… why am I here? What happened?” My voice was urgent, and I saw that Teinaava sensed this.

“Well… what do you last remember?” he asked hesitantly.

I cast my gaze inward, trying with great pressure to recall my recent memories. I had been going to sleep, here, in the Sanctuary. But there had been something on my mind, something important... but I could not remember what it was! I concentrated harder- it was just out of my grasp, this memory, but the harder I searched for it, the further it seemed to go from me- like trying to cup water in your palms.

After a moment I sighed heavily, my line of thought broken, and looked at Teinaava. And this reminded me of what he had just been speaking of, to my fellow family members- Ungeval, the incompetent Bosmer… trying to murder Adamus Phillida! The name rang throughout my thoughts, bringing a sudden flood of memories that I was entirely unprepared for.

Image after image flashed through my mind- a young officer, standing beside an elderly man in ornate armor- a small Inn, resembling a fishing shack- a bottle of wine, and a sharp dagger- a figure cloaked in dark, drawing a crimson rose across the neck of a pale figure- a bloody pool, with the corpse of a man floating in it… and oddly enough, a vision of Lucien Lachance, his face shrouded in shadow. And finally I remembered running, guards shouting, objects flying towards me… and pain.

“I was sent to execute Phillida! And I did kill him, I think…but then guards came, and caught me in the act… I tried to run, but something hit my head… and it’s all black after that…” I finished.

He seemed pleased that I was able to recall this much, and nodded slightly in consent to my words before sitting down at the foot of my bed.

“Yes, you finally completed what three of your brothers could not! Phillida lies dead, his soul sent to Sithis and his body burned. It is a time for celebration within the Brotherhood, with you as our champion!”

Telaendril gave a little whoop of merriment, but Gogron gave a groan of despair. We all turned to him quizzically. He rolled his eyes in exasperation.

“Don’t you remember what happened last time we celebrated Adrienne’s triumphs? Hmm? We had to clean up a battlefield of broken bottles, I ended up with a headache that lasted for days, and am still suffering from a sore back because of sleeping on that bloody table all night! And plus, Ocheeva’ll have our hides if she hears of another party!”

He then glared at the three of us with such a sulky expression that we could not help but laugh. At first he seemed to grow irritable, but then he considered how humorous the situation was and joined in not long after. My head still throbbed, intensified by the laughter, but it was not nearly unbearable.

But as my laughter started to fade, my thoughts went back again to my situation. I still had many questions- what had happened after I blacked out, and how had I gotten back here? Was there something I couldn’t remember?

I looked up and saw that while Gogron and Telaendril seemed quite comfortable and unbothered, Teinaava was anxiously watching me. I was surprised by his look, for it seemed as though he was anticipating something bad to happen at any moment, concerning me. I wondered if it had anything to do with what I had been worrying about, and decided it was time to find out.

“I still don’t understand something- how did I get here? I can’t remember past my black out, but here I am…”

His face clouded for a second, as though he was thinking deeply on how to phrase his next words, and after a moment he glanced over at Telaendril and Gogron before continuing.

“The only explanation I can think of is that the luck of the Night Mother was with you, my dear sister. A courier, a servant of our unholy Matron, was in Leyawiin delivering news to our members there, and sighted you…” he paused here, as if unsure how to continue. “…whilst killing Adamus Phillida. He then watched as guards chased you, and when he saw you had been hit, he felt that the Night Mother had placed him there for a reason- he could not let the murderer of Adamus Phillida be captured when it was within his power to stop it. And so he swept you up from beneath their noses, and brought you here,” Teinaava concluded.

I eyed him carefully, trying to understand what had made that explanation feel so… off. For it had- I could not shake the feeling that something he spoke of was not entirely true, or that the truth had not been completely told. I considered Teinaava my closest family member, and felt that I had an accurate understanding of his ways- and there was definitely something unusual going on here.

Before I could wonder what in the name of Sithis he could be trying to hide in the current situation, however, my thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice.
“Blessed by the Night Mother indeed...”

I looked towards the archway leading into the Living Quarters, already knowing whom I would see there- Vicente Valtieri. There was no mistaking his eloquent, silky voice. He acknowledged each of us with a nod of his head, turning to me last. He spoke again, his fangs slipping out of his lips in a rather cheeky smile.

“Wasn’t it I who first labeled you as blessed- ‘a gift from the Night Mother herself?’ I think it is quite apparent now, looking at your accomplishments, that you must be… at least to some extent…”

I hung my head modestly, not really sure how to reply to such a statement. When I looked up again though, I found that the vampire’s eyes were trained directly upon me, and so intense was his gaze that I got the distinct impression that he could read my very thoughts.

“C’mon Vicente, you’re embarrassing her!” cried Teinaava good-naturedly, after a moment of rather awkward silence. The Argonian clapped an arm on Vicente’s shoulder, as though to draw the vampire out of the reverie he seemed to be experiencing- but Valtieri ignored his words and continued, eyes never leaving my face.

“The blessings of a powerful force are always a burden to carry. It has been said that if you are favored, or ‘chosen’ by the Gods, that one may also call you cursed, for you serve them devoutly, obey their every desire, yet they take from you everything. To be blessed by the Gods is to be alone…and what you are blessed by, my child, is not even a God; for Sithis is such petty influences. You are blessed by the very forces that keep our world spinning. You are ‘blessed’ by something greater then even a God…”

I felt a chill run down my spine, and had to draw my gaze from Vicente’s- there was something in his stare that I had never seen before, something that I couldn’t describe… but it frightened me with its intensity, its power. My eyes darted to Teinaava’s face, and saw that his expression was one of alarm and bewilderment, a look most probably echoing my own.

“Adrienne-” The voice was commanding. I raised my eyes slowly, hesitantly, until they met Vicente’s. “-no matter what, we decide our own fates. The forces of this land may choose to interfere with us mortals in order to gain their own desires, but their influence can only extend so far. The final choice is always, always yours, and yours alone. Make sure you chose the right path.”

As I looked into Vicente’s eyes, I abruptly had a flash again of my dream- dark robes swelling about in a pool of blood, enveloping a figure in black who was slowly drawing the thorns of a rose across my neck, my own hand aiding it- before it was gone, for he had dropped his gaze. Unexpectedly my head felt light, and the room too large, almost like an empty void- I gasped for air, suddenly out of breath.

Vicenete Valtieri was turning to leave now, his black traveling cloak billowing out behind him.

“I hope I find you all in good health, and I shall see you later for supper. Now excuse me, I have some business that I must attend to…” And he was gone.

A stunned silence followed this rather abrupt departure. We listened to Valtieri's heavy boots clunk down the hallway, creating a haunting echo, until they could be heard no more.

The silence was broken by Teinaava clearing his throat, sounding hesitant to speak. I looked up at him, and found that he was staring at me with wonder and concern. I broke from his gaze and turned toward to Telaendril, whose expression was similar to that of Teinaava’s. Finally, I looked to Gogron. He was staring at the doorway that Vicente had just exited through, his mouth hanging wide open and his eyebrow furrowed comically.

“That was… odd,” Telaendril said slowly.
“Indeed,” came Teinaava’s reply, his eyes now narrowed in concentration.
“I wouldn’t worry about it- I’ve always thought he was off his rocker.”
Telaendril smiled lightly at Gogron’s words, rolling her eyes amusedly.

Teinaava’s lips upturned at the corners, but he was still eyeing me out of the corner of his eye. I too smiled, but I could tell it did not reach my own eyes.

As I thought of these ominous proclamations of Vicente’s, I had a flash of words I had heard before- those of an Argonian Shadowscale, a traitor on the run... “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 ‘normal life’, your sense of morality, your humanity, and finally those you come to love. Oh yes, love…”

“Anyways-” Teinaava said pointedly. “I think it would be a good idea if you went and spoke with Ocheeva, Adrienne. I know there is something she wishes to discuss with you, and she’s been very busy with Black Hand business lately so you may want to try and catch her while she’s in.”

“Shouldn’t she wait-” Telaendril blurted out, but Teinaava silenced her with a sharp look.

“I think enough time has passed. She should be gone by now- Adrienne, go see Ocheeva,” he repeated. I was about to ask who he was speaking of, but he shook his head and pointed sternly toward the door.

Although my curiosity at what Ocheeva needed to chat with me about (and Telaendril’s little exclamation) did steal much of my attention, my unease about Vicente’s words could not be shaken. It was as though he had laid a cloud of dread over my very soul, and nothing I could do would abate it.

I nodded at Teinaava, and expressed my gratitude to Gogron and Telaendril for being so supportive, before making my way to Ocheeva’s room. As I approached the thick doors, I was surprised to hear the dull sound of raised voices resonating from within.

“I absolutely refuse to clean up her mess! I don’t care what the reward is, I will not do it!”

“This is for the good of the Brotherhood- you are not only protecting her, you are protecting us! Is your loyalty to the Brotherhood so easily swayed by such a trivial matter?”

There was a moment of silence, and I was hastily trying to understand what was going on. The voices were most definitely that of Ocheeva and Antoinetta- but what were they discussing? And did it pertain to me, because I had a nasty feeling that it may...
“Fine. I’ll do it.” That was Antoinetta’s voice.

In that split second I had the sense to dart back into the hall to the Living Quarters, positioning myself behind the doorway as to not be sighted by the woman exiting Ocheeva’s room, who was quite obviously in an extremely foul mood. Antoinetta Marie stalked to the doorway leading out of the Sanctuary, a traveling pack on her back and her eyes hard with anger.

I could not help but feel a little thrill of smugness that she had been driven to such a level of anger and frustration, but could not shake the (rather arrogant) notion that her problem had something to do with me. There was no one within the Sanctuary that I believed she would have such a problem with, and would react that way to the proposition of helping them… and I had just been a part of an apparently sticky situation…

Ocheeva’s doors had remained open, but I waited several moments before entering cautiously. She was seated at the table, reading a piece of parchment with her brow furrowed. She looked up when I entered the room, and in the instant before a pleased smile appeared on her face, I could not help but notice how weary she seemed.

“Ah, Adrienne! You’re awake already,” she said, rising and placing the parchment down on the table. I noticed that it was filled top to bottom with writing. “How are you feeling?”

“Quite well, thank you- a bit of a headache, but it will pass,” I replied. “My memory was a bit confused at first, but I think I have a clear recollection of events now.”

“Yes, yes- that is very good. So what exactly do you remember?”

I gave Ocheeva a look of surprise- her tone was, like Teinaava’s, a bit unusual. She seemed to be tense, and wary of saying something wrong, of making sure that what I remembered would be all she spoke off. What was going on? Was I missing something?

I rehashed the story I told to Teinaava and the others, watching her expression carefully. When I spoke of Teinaava’s story of the courier, and how I could not recall anything past being struck in the head, her shoulders sagged and she seemed almost resigned.

“Yes, it was quite the stroke of luck that someone was there to aid you. Speaking of those events, I have something that I think you would enjoy to read…” she turned back to her table and picked up the piece of parchment she had been reading. For the first time, I read the heading at the top.

“SPECIAL EDITION!
ADAMUS PHILLIDA SLAIN
BY DARK BROTHERHOOD!”

Ocheeva arched her eyebrow in a good-natured manner, and handed the parchment over. I read on.

“In what can only be described as a blatant assault on the security and liberty of the civilized people of Cyrodiil, retired Imperial Legion commander Adamus Phillida was brutally murdered by the secretive assassins guild known as the Dark Brotherhood. The slaying occurred in the sleepy town of Leyawiin, where Phillida had chosen to spend the remainder of his days. It was to be a life of quiet solitude, far removed from the hustle and bustle of the Imperial City, where Phillida had served the Imperial Legion proudly for more than twenty-five years.

But even in retirement, the noble Legion commander could not escape his past.

Throughout the years, Adamus Phillida had become a rather vocal opponent of the Dark Brotherhood and its practices, and vowed to expose the organizations' secrets and bring its leaders to justice. Indeed, Phillida had been targeted for assassination in the past, but attempts were thrice thwarted by the commander and his Legion soldiers. Sadly, his luck ran out in Leyawiin. When asked if there was any doubt as to the Dark Brotherhood's involvement in Phillida murder, newly appointed Imperial Legion commander Giovanni Civello had this to say:

'It was the Dark Brotherhood, all right. No question about it. The one who committed the crime, who is described as being of human race, with black hair and blue eyes, was sighted running from the scene of the crime to alley where a man in black robes was also sighted. Black robes that matched that which is considered the trademark of the Brotherhood. Conclusive evidence came when we searched his body- the arrow used to kill him was a fabled weapon of the Brotherhood, called ‘The Rose of Sithis’.

This was a crime of vengeance, a despicable act of hatred and evil against a pinnacle of nobility and virtue. Adamus fought the Dark Brotherhood every day of his life, and he died for what he believed in. Adamus Phillida was a great man. He taught me everything I know, and I'll be damned if I let his dream die with him. From this day forward, I vow to destroy the Dark Brotherhood and everything they stand for!"

There is reason to believe that the assassin was staying the in the town for days
before the crime, and two witnesses have been called to interrogation- Adamus’ bodyguard, Seviil Varo (whose whereabouts during the time of the crime are still unknown) and a local innkeeper, Witseidutsei, are being questioned further. We will keep the public informed of the progress in this ongoing investigation.

Adamus Phillida may be dead, but it would seem his fight against the Dark Brotherhood lives on in Giovanni Civello and the rest of the Imperial Legion. There may soon come a day when those bloodthirsty assassins have more to fear than the good people of the Imperial Province.”

Ocheeva waited until I had finished reading before speaking, her voice neutral and her eyes unsurpassable.

“First of all, I must congratulate you for successfully completing what several of our assassins have failed at- the slaying of one of your chief enemies. Your actions shall most certainly live on long into the Brotherhood’s histories. However… you were seen, and your identity may have been compromised. But the deed is done, and therefore I owe you your payment. You did not complete the task needed for a bonus, so you will only receive a sum of money.”

She untied a rather large pouch from her belt, which clinked and clanged with the unmistakable sound of coins. Ocheeva handed it to me, a bit reverently- I voiced my deep thanks, but she waved a hand blithely.

“You deserve it. Now, onto another matter I wish to discuss with you…” She raised an arm and gripped my shoulder, a firm but friendly gesture.

“I think it would be a good idea if you kept a low profile, at least for awhile. You saw the article- there is already an, although rather vague, description of your appearance, and it would probably be safer for you to remain out of the public eye for the time being. If things go well, the situation could change by the end of the week. But if not… well, we’ll discuss that when the time comes.”

I understood her reasoning, and did not really object to it. I didn’t really have the urge to go strolling about town anyways- but what did she mean, to have it ‘fixed’ soon? I was about to voice this question when all of a sudden something made sense- Antoinetta, talking of ‘cleaning up a mess’… had she been sent to kill witnesses?

I really did wish to ask Ocheeva if my deductions were correct, but that would mean admitting to my eavesdropping (although it could hardly be measured as such, considering the level of their voices), and I would never confess to that. So I only nodded in compliance.

“I’m glad that we understand each other. I will be away for a few days, but when I get back I hope we can speak again in more depth. Your presence has been missed about the Sanctuary, Adrienne,” she finished softly, giving my shoulder a final squeeze.

“Believe me, it will be no hardship to be confined to the walls of this Sanctuary, if our family is here,” I replied.

We both smiled amiably, and bade each other farewell. But I could not impede the flow of uneasy feelings- that both Ocheeva and Teinaava were keeping something from me… something about my murder of Phillida- or rather, my rescue. Nonetheless, I did not wish to show the dishonor and distrust of asking outright for the truth, and I resigned myself to the fact that I would simply have to wait- and listen.

I returned to the Living Quarters to find Teinaava, Telaendril and Gogron in exactly the same places I had left them, still eating and laughing, the mood seemingly restored.

“Don’t you lot have anything better to be doing?” I declared as I sat down beside Teinaava, smirking roguishly.

They all exchanged sheepish grins, but there was mischief in their eyes.
“Ocheeva’ll be gone soon, and then we’ll be free for at least a day or two…” Teinaava said, and Gogron nodded emphatically.

“But she’s not gone yet…” I said, raising my eyebrows suggestively.
“She didn’t… didn’t say she was coming down here, did she?” Teinaava asked, suddenly looking alarmed. Gogron had grown alert and was also anxiously watching me for my reply- even Telaendril seemed nervous.

I kept my face neutral, trying to maintain an expression of innocence.
“Well of course she is!” I exclaimed. There was a moment of silence, in which the three stared back at me with horror in their eyes- and abruptly they leapt into action, leaping up from their seats frantically.

“She wouldn’t leave without saying farewell to her dear baby brother…” I added.

All three suddenly became motionless and turned to face me suspiciously. Teinaava’s expression was incredulous- I tried to keep my face straight, but I failed dismally, dissolving into a gleeful laughter.

They seemed shocked and stunned at first, but slowly their shoulders sagged in relief, a bemused expression on Teinaava’s face. Telaendril heaved a great sigh and flopped back onto her seat, while Teinaava sat down slowly, shaking his head and laughing silently in amusement.

Gogron, however, remained standing- his eyes were still wide in shock, and his face was contorted into an expression of indignation. He pointed a thick, shaking finger at me.

“That… that was not funny…” he said slowly, shaking his head.
“Yes it was!” I replied, bursting into laughter once again.

Teinaava and Telaendril gave a (rather relieved sounding) chuckle, and Gogron glared at them before sitting, grumpily grabbing an apple and taking a huge, chomping bite.

“Trying to give me a heart attack…” he muttered darkly, granting us with a remarkable view of the half-chewed apple in his mouth.

The meal passed by in similar fashion- with jokes and jibes, laugher echoing throughout the hall. When we had each eaten our full (and this was a considerable amount, considering that Gogron was present) we leaned back in our seats and sighed contently- all except Telaendril. She had risen from her chair and was stretching her stiff muscles.

“Speaking of things to do, I actually have to be in Bravil by nightfall- I’ll have to be going soon.”

“Oh, do you have a contract?” I asked while watching her start to pack a travel bag, eager to hear the details.

“No, no- unfortunately not. I’ve been assigned to take monthly trips to Bravil, Leyawiin, and the Imperial City, by Ocheeva- for security reasons,” she replied, sliding a rather nasty looking dagger into some hidden sheath on her upper leg.

“Security reasons? I didn’t know that members like us dealt with that sort of thing. I thought that was the job of couriers and such,” I responded.

“Yes, this is a special case. We’ve actually had a shortage of couriers lately- they’ve been dying off rather quickly. However, seeing as I’m really the only member of this Sanctuary who can roam freely about the streets and cities without causing a raucous, and I have been told that I posses a talent for subterfuge… well, this lovely task has fallen upon me.” Her tone was slightly bitter. “Qualities I had hoped would help me advance have instead forbidden me from doing so.”

“You shouldn’t feel that way- your work for the Brotherhood is invaluable. You should be proud that you are not like the rest of us- not confined to the Sanctuary for most of our lives.” Teinaava’s words were sincere, and Telaendril gave him a thankful smile.

I hadn’t ever noticed it before, but now that I thought about it, nearly every time I was at the Sanctuary generally everyone was present as well. I had never considered it odd before, but now I realized that I was probably the one who spent the least amount of time within its walls. And I had never even contemplated that my family members’ reasoning behind this could be unintentional or involuntary.

“For the amount of time you have been an assassin, it is incredible that you are blessed with the amount of freedom that you enjoy,” continued Teinaava. “Most assassins have to retreat to lives of seclusion and isolation after a certain amount of time on the job- you can only go so long, can only commit so murders before you slip up just once, and your face becomes known. The fact that you still remain perfectly unsuspected is quite a feat.”

“I suppose so…” Telaendril said humbly, but her face was shining with pride. “I was a convict after my first kill… and ah, what a bloodbath it was- I took out at least ten guards before my escape!” Gogron proudly declared, his eyes glassy in memory. “Haven’t really been out much since, seeing as the Guard wouldn’t even hesitate to kill me on sight...”

“And it seems Adrienne may be joining us soon enough,” said Teinaava, after rolling his eyes at Gogron’s comment. He turned to me, his expression torn between pity and satisfaction. “Your face may be well known, if the witnesses speak…”

“I don’t think I will find it difficult to withdraw from the public life,” I replied, smiling lightly. “It’s not like I was ever an esteemed member of the community anyways.”

We all chuckled, each reflecting on our own standings within society. What I said was true- I really didn’t think I would mind extracting myself from the community outside of the Brotherhood. It wasn’t like I was involved in anything outside of the guild anyways- but something I would miss was the freedom to go where I wished. If and when the witnesses spoke, they would in all certainty reveal my name, and detailed descriptions of my appearance. That meant I would most likely not be able to even walk on the streets without suspicion. That I supposed I would miss… but like with everything else, I concluded, I would grow used to the situation, and adapt accordingly.

A moment later, Telaendril rose from her kneeling position and swung her bag over her shoulders, heaving a sigh.

“Well, I’m off!” she said, starting to walk towards the archway.
“When will you be returning?” I asked, and she turned back.

“I should be back in a week, maybe a day or two later- but hopefully no longer than that,” she said, her eyes darkening at the prospect of such a lengthy trip.

“May you walk always in the Shadows of Sithis,” we said in farewell, and she returned the send-off wearily, before turning back and striding off down the hallway.

* * *

Life at the Sanctuary in the days following this was pleasant and idyllic, for the only two factors that I felt could disrupt its tranquility were both not present- Antoinetta Marie was off fulfilling the contract I had overheard of, and M’raaj Dar was collecting shipments from Skyrim up in Bruma.

I spent much of my free time sleeping in the Living Quarters, for my constant headache was only starting to abate slightly, no matter what method my family members or I could contrive to defeat it. Teinaava slipped me some scrolls of Ocheeva’s that he would nick occasionally to assuage hangovers, Gogron suggested an ancient form of Orcish massage that would supposedly relieve the pain in my head by kneading it out with a method that I felt sounded absolutely horrifying (I respectfully declined his offer), and Vicente even tried a Vampiric procedure involving herbs that stunk up the Living Quarters for hours afterwards.

On the fourth night after Telaendril had made her departure, Ocheeva finally returned to the Sanctuary. She dropped down from the well ladder to find Vicente, Teinaava and I in the Entry Hall, reading a Black Horse Courier Issue entitled “Anvil Tarts Thwarted”, finding its contents extremely amusing.

She greeted us warmly, and we informed her of the little news around the Sanctuary during her absence. She seemed in even lower spirits then she had been at her departure, and I saw that Teinaava noticed this as well. We inquired about her trip, but her response was vague and offhanded.

And before we could question her further, Ocheeva excused herself and retired to her room for rest after the long journey. Almost immediately afterwards, Vicente bade us a farewell and headed off towards the well ladder- presumably to get some fresh air, for night had surely fallen by now. Teinaava and I exchanged a look, our eyes each signaling that we should get out of the hearing range of Ocheeva- and so we slipped down the hallway into the Living Quarters, treading lightly as not to wake Gogron, who was snoring loudly in his bed.

“I am worried about Ocheeva,” Teinaava whispered to me, his voice full of concern. We had sat down at the round table, and he was across from me. I could only see his eyes gleaming in the darkness of the room. “She has not been herself lately- she has always worked hard, yes… but recently she has been straining herself more so then ever, yet she does not give any sign of ever taking a break. And whenever she returns from her now numerous trips, there is never good news. Times are dark for the Brotherhood, Adrienne- whispers of a traitor are being heard in greater frequency than ever before.”

“A traitor?” I hissed back, my voice incredulous.
“Yes, a betrayer of our Tenets. There has been suspicion for over a year now, but lately the signs have been almost too hard to miss. Couriers, servants of our Dark Matron, are disappearing without a trace- and even a Brotherhood assassin has been killed, and not while serving a contract. Whoever committed these murders knew things that they couldn’t have without having been a member of the Brotherhood.”

“I had no idea…” I muttered. I have to admit I was rather irked that something of such gravity had been going on within the guild without my slightest knowledge- this news had taken me completely by surprise.

“Not many do- the only reason I am aware of the situation is because of the bond Ocheeva and I share. You know that we are egg mates, twins- we share a link because of it, to this very day. We can sense the other’s emotion, if it is strong enough. And when she learned of these events, I felt her distress, and convinced her to share her burden with me.” “I never knew that your connection was so strong,” I remarked, a bit impressed. “But what did she say of the traitor?”

“She couldn’t discuss much in detail with me-” his voice cut off as Gogron shifted in his bed, rolling over to face us. We sat completely still, waiting to see if the Orc would awake. After a moment of silence Gogron’s snoring resumed, and Teinaava continued in a lower tone. “-She couldn’t go into much detail with me because of the difference in our rank. I could normally care less about our standings with the Brotherhood, but that day was one that I felt the disadvantages of being lower ranked. All she could tell me was that there had been deaths (which was already pretty commonly known), and that a traitor was suspected.”

“I can’t believe that someone would betray the Brotherhood- it’s an inconceivable notion in my eyes,” I murmured, shaking my head slightly.

“To I as well- and what worries me most is that recently Ocheeva has been deeply stressed and troubled by the even more current events, but refuses to speak with me about them. Things must not be going well at all for this to happen- and it is in turn causing me great worry. A traitor, within our midst… perhaps even within this very Sanctuary…”

Those ominous words haunted my dreams that night, and the feeling of dread that had descended upon me after Vicente’s warning had not left me- it was only growing stronger and stronger with each passing day.

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 Eliminator, 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.

Chapter Eighteen: The Purification

I stood quite still, not a muscle moving; the only sound was that of the crickets serenading the expansive dark skies surrounding me. Yet for all the motionlessness of my body, my mind was moving in speeds and ranges I could not have imagined before this time. Two days had passed since the death of Telaendril, but I was still not ready to face what awaited me inside the Sanctuary’s walls. Before me sat the well, its cover shifted aside. Through the crack this created, a soft shimmer of light escaped from the depths within.

And I stared at that gap, fighting some invisible force that seemed to be preventing me from entering. Below that well cover laid the Sanctuary, where I knew that its members would be mourning the loss of one of their own. Our! One of ‘our’ own! I thought savagely, trying to correct myself. I was already starting to separate myself from them, to refer to myself as different, an outsider of the family. I felt such a strong sensation of self disgust and revulsion that it was nearly unbearable, for I knew that I couldn’t be one of the family anymore; having to kill all of them made things a bit complicated.

An infinity seemed to pass, but I finally found the power within myself to shift my still muscles, knowing that the patrols of Cheydinhal guard would soon start their evening rounds. I had to go down there, and I had waited long enough…

After killing Telaendril, I had worked quickly, methodically- I'd been trying to keep my mind off the reality of my actions. The rain was strong and persistent, so I had rapidly gone through her possessions, taking whatever I felt a bandit would have, and dragged her body to the side of the road. I then went back to my hiding place and awaited the arrival of a guard. Several hours later a patroller on horseback went by, and he discovered the body and returned her to Cheydinhal, believing the death to be the work of bandits.

I probably should have returned to the Sanctuary right then, but instead I had waited until the officer was out of sight and turned the opposite way, heading west. I was restless, I could not keep still- for being still meant that I would think. And I could not think of what I had just done; not yet. And so I traveled, like my days before the Brotherhood, with no supplies except my bow and arrow, dagger, and clothes on my back. I did not sleep except when it was absolutely necessary, and even then it was a light doze, filled with fretful tossing and turning- and dark dreams.

But eventually I found myself near Cheydinhal again, and I knew that it was time I returned to the Sanctuary- which brought me to where I stood now, staring at the well, preparing to climb down and return to those who I had once called family without trepidation

I took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, and murmured a short prayer to the Night Mother before suddenly stepping forward and fully pushing the grate off to the side. I made my way down the ladder quickly, with ferocity- for I knew that as soon as I stopped to think I would find some excuse to remain outside, to turn back.

I dropped down into the Entry Hall to find it almost chillingly empty, the intense silence eerie and unnatural. There was most definitely something wrong, and had I not been the cause of it I would have been most alarmed at this moment; but I was the cause, and felt only apprehensive.

Ocheeva’s doors were closed and I heard no noise coming from within, so I continued onward to the Living Quarters. My heart was hammering within my chest, a dull throbbing echoing throughout my skull. There was a still sort of silence in the air, and I felt my breath constricted as I turned the final corner of the hall.

The scene within the room was one of dim lights and tense silence. Dozens of candles were scattered about the room, casting a myriad of unidentifiable shadows on the stoned walls. I turned about in confusion, my expression inquisitive. Before me I found the members of the Sanctuary- all except Antoinetta, it seemed.

Ocheeva was standing in the front, donning a robe of the darkest black, her face equally dark; her expression was somber, but her eyes were hard. Teinaava was at her left, also wearing all black- but not his customary leather armor. Instead, it seemed as I looked about the room, that everyone was in their finest attire- and all black.

I searched past Teinaava’s pitying look and found Vicente Valtieri, his eyes a deep red and face expressionless - not even the tips of his fangs slipped from his lips. He was watching me intently, and I averted my gaze from him quickly, with a distinct sense of unease. M’raaj Dar stood off to the side near the table, his normally blue robes switched for black. I noted that, for once, the Khajiit did not scowl at the sight of me
.
Behind the round table in the back of the room (which was laden with a rather irregular mass of food) was Gogron, slumped pathetically over in a chair. His normally large frame seemed almost chillingly frail and feeble. He was quite still, and did not acknowledge that I had walked into the room at all. Instead, his eyes remained fixed on what lay before him; I followed his gaze.

The long table normally reserved for dining and drinks had been dragged into the middle of the room, and upon first inspection I thought it lay bare- but as I looked closer, I realized that its chestnut wood was stained a dark red in the center, and the stone floor below revealed a puddle of the same substance. I watched, my expression aghast, as a drop of the red liquid slipped between a crack in the wood and splashed softly into the puddle below.

I looked up into the eyes of the family, my expression bewildered and alarmed.

“What’s going on here?” I asked urgently. My view darted to each of their eyes in turn, yet they all seemed to shy away, unable to keep my gaze. Ocheeva was the one to finally hold eye contact.

“Adrienne… you have missed much in your absence,” she said, her tone almost overly official.

“What do you mean? What’s happened?” I asked, trying to fill my voice with as much fear as possible. Instead it came out sounding a bit pained.

“Telaendril…she… she is dead, Adrienne,” Teinaava spoke for her, his voice gentle.

“What?” I replied quickly, sharply. He winced slightly.

“Her body was found on the road leading to Cheydinhal- the Guard brought her back to the city, and we, of course, retrieved her corpse,” he said.

I could tell he was speaking cautiously, extremely wary of my reaction- but I was not focused on him. Instead, my line of sight went past him, to the figure standing in the shadows behind the Argonian. The figure with deep red eyes and gleaming white fangs.

Vicente Valtieri was still watching me intently, his gaze sharp and penetrating. I felt myself beginning to waver under his intense scrutiny- it may have simply been my mind playing tricks on me, but I could not help but get the very distinct feeling that his gaze was one of deep understanding- and of acute disappointment. Almost like he knew... I breathed in sharply and turned away from him, swallowing deeply before speaking.

“Do we know who… who is responsible?”

I watched carefully for all of their reactions, and saw nothing that could indicate suspicion towards myself from anyone… except Vicente. I could swear that as I spoke, his lips turned up in the corners slightly in an almost sardonic smile. Unconsciously I found my hand going to the dagger at my waist, fingering it anxiously. He smiled widened almost imperceptibly, but I turned away from him and looked back to Ocheeva and Teinaava.

“We do have our theories, but are currently unaware as to the identity of those who have committed this atrocity against us. But I assure you, when we do discover them, they shall pay most dearly for their deeds,” said Teinaava, eying the hand upon my dagger with a slight smile and a knowing look also upon his face; but I doubted it was in the same vein as that of Vicente.

“I know that whoever is responsible for her death will suffer,” I said slowly; but the certainty in my tone was quite evident. For I knew it was true.

The other’s all nodded their heads in agreement- all except Gogron, whose eyes were still fixed upon the bloody table. I looked around the room, and could clearly see that Telaendril’s body was not present. I looked at the blood again.

“But what is going on here?” I asked, gesturing my chin in the direction of the table.

“Ah…” Ocheeva cleared her throat formally before continuing. “We have just performed the ancient Ritual of Descent, which aids our fallen Brothers and Sisters in their journey to the side of Sithis, in the Void.”

“Ritual of Descent?” I asked, eyebrows furrowed. I had never heard of such a thing.

“Yes- we purify the body, cleansing the flesh and blood through sacred procedures of removal. It is a lengthy process, and one that requires intense concentration and devotion. But of course, everyone here was ready and willing to honor our beloved Telaendril.”

“Except, it seems, myself,” I replied, my tone slightly bitter.
“We could not have known when you were returning dear sister- and the ritual must be performed within a certain time frame after the death. If we had been aware that you'd be back today, we would have waited, I assure you,” Teinaava said quickly.

I nodded my head curtly and looked around once again, averting my eyes from him uncomfortably.

“So… now what?” I finally asked, my voice cracking.

“Now we feast, and honor our fallen Sister,” Ocheeva answered, gesturing towards the round table in the back of the room, where Gogron still sat. His position had not changed in the least, and his expression seemed fixed as well. He looked up vaguely when we all turned toward him.

“Hmm?” he said, absentmindedly.
“It’s time to eat,” said Ocheeva kindly, turning and walking toward him.

He nodded dimly, as through in a trance. I dropped my travel pack by the doorway and we all followed and moved to sit down around the table. We were one chair short, so I moved to slide a seat over from the spares sitting in the corner- when suddenly M’raaj Dar cut in front of me and grabbed it first, sliding it over and gesturing for me to sit. I eyed him warily, but he returned it with an unmistakably pleasant look. I sat down slowly and he pushed the chair in for me, before turning to sit himself. I continued to watch him, with unmistakable incredulity upon my face. Why was he being so kind to me?

Once we were all seated and comfortable around the table, Ocheeva at its head, we fell into a tense silence. I looked at the food before us on the table, watching the steam rise from it in a swirling mass. There was a dark red meat piled haphazardly on a platter in the center, with radishes, potatoes and carrots surrounding it on an assortment of plates. I wondered vaguely why there was only one variation of meat, as opposed to the usual several, but the thought was pushed from my mind when Ocheeva rose from her chair.

She began then to speak of Telaendril, of her talent and skill as an assassin, along with her amiability and good humor with all those around her. I pushed my mind to other places, finding it too painful to listen. I looked over at M’raaj Dar once again, watching him as he looked up at Ocheeva. There was something different about him- there was no doubt about that… something very, very different. His very demeanor was unnatural, his stature relaxed and expression pleasant. I was wondering what could have brought about such a drastic change, when suddenly I felt my hands being gripped by Teinaava at my left and Vicente at my right.

I shook my head slightly and looked about in alarm- but I saw that the entire table had linked hands, holding them up as though in a prayer. I turned my attention back to Ocheeva, who was chanting in some form of Tamriellic that I could not understand, her eyes closed in concentration and her voice deep with intensity. The others were completely entranced by her prayer, and only I was not watching Ocheeva with glowing eyes.

When she had completed her ritual we all lowered our hands slowly, a deafening silence descending. We were quite still, but after a moment we all reached forward in unison and began to eat, stabbing the meat and vegetables onto our plates with personal knives. I started to chew on the steaming red meat, its warm juices filling my mouth with delectable tastes. I closed my eyes and breathed in deep with satisfaction, swallowing the chunk of meat with an audible gulp. Similar sighs of contentment came from those around the table as we enjoyed the feast; yet I looked up and saw that there was one who still seemed to be restless.

Gogron was still sitting slouched over in his chair, and I was shocked to see that he was barely eating a thing. I watched as he raised a piece of meat skewered by his knife to his lips, but made a face of revulsion and set it down again, proceeding to poke at the vegetables. I noticed for the first time that his eyes were bloodshot.

I felt someone’s gaze upon me, and turned to find Teinaava trying to catch my eye. He gave a meaningful look toward the sulking Gogron, his eyes telling me that he noticed as well, and that we would speak of it later.

The dinner passed by in an almost complete silence, the only sound that of clinking knives and plates, or the deep swallowing of food and drink. Once the platter of meat had been finished and the plates were cleared and leftovers stored, Teinaava once again caught my eye.

“I’m going out for some fresh air,” he said, and the others nodded in compliance. As he started to make his way from the room he sent me another, more urgent look. I clenched my jaw.

“I think I’ll join you,” I found myself saying, and he smiled slightly as I followed him up the hallway. We walked in silence, our steps echoing throughout the hushed corridor. When we came up into the Entry Hall he gestured toward the ladder leading out of the well, an eyebrow raised in question. I responded by walking in front of him and climbing up and out, offering him a hand as he followed.

Night had fallen, and the city was dark and the sky cloudless as we stood beneath it, encompassed by its vastness. We listened together to the sounds of the twilight- the crickets singing their songs, the gentle breeze, but most of all- the quiet. After a moment, Teinaava broke the silence.

“This is a difficult time for all of us…” he said slowly.
“It is,” I said, trying to keep the tone of bitter irony from my voice.
“Yes… but I think that Gogron has been taking it the hardest.”

I nodded slowly in agreement, and thought of a time that seems long ago now, when we had celebrated my contract at Summitmist Manor by all getting uproariously drunk… and the admission that Telaendril had made that night- the confession of her feelings for Gogron. I wondered if she had ever admitted her feelings to him, for it was quite apparent now that he shared those affections.

“So how are you handling this?”
I jerked my head in his direction, drawn out of my reverie by his question. He was watching me closely, and I closed and opened my eyes again before replying, my voice soft.

““I will be fine…” He raised an eyebrow. “It was just a surprise… you don’t expect to ever lose anyone here.” I continued. His expression softened, and he gave a slight nod, seemingly satisfied with the truth in my response.

“I know what you mean…the first time someone from your family dies, it is always difficult.” As he continued on his voice became hollow, as though he was speaking only to himself. “Sometimes the most difficult, for it always feels so unexpected... You remember your young adult years, where you believed yourself to be invincible? It is the same concept, only applied instead to those around you.”

“Yes…”
We sat in silence, leaning against the well and lifting our chins to stare up into the night sky. I could sense his thoughts were far away; and as I turned to look at Teinaava out of the corner of my eye, I felt my heart race suddenly. I could kill him… right now… no one’s out here, no one would know… I subconsciously felt my hand slipping to the dagger at my waist, but suddenly I stopped at my thigh.

No! Not yet… not yet. I felt my throat clench up, and swallowed deeply. I couldn’t. I wasn’t ready… but would I ever be ready? I asked myself. Of course… of course I would…I had to be ready… but not now. Besides, everyone knew we had gone out here together… if I went back alone there would be awkward questions, something I certainly didn’t want. It didn’t make sense to kill him right now. It didn’t sense, I convinced myself. It didn’t.

“The patrols are starting out- we should probably head back in,” Teinaava said a few moments later, suddenly turning his head towards me again. I let out a great breath of air and nodded, letting my hand fall from its resting place near the dagger on my leg. Not now, I repeated to myself.

Not yet.
We returned to find that the Living Quarters had been returned to its normal condition- the table and chairs brought back to their customary places, and it seemed that even the red puddle had been mopped up. Gogron was lying in his bed, completely stationary, staring straight up into the ceiling. Ocheeva and Vicente were no where to be seen, so we surmised that they had returned to their rooms. M'raaj Dar was already in his bed, and I thought I could hear a faint snoring emitting from underneath his blanket.

Teinaava and I went over to the furthest corner, where we had claimed our beds. Gogron had shifted over to his side, and was staring at Telaendril's empty bed, his gaze vacant. I turned away, averting my eyes from the pitiable scene. Slipping off my traveling boots for the first time in days, I winced as I stretched the aching muscles in my feet. I looked back to where I had dropped my travel pack, but saw it was no longer there. I guessed that someone had moved it while they cleaned up the chambers, and I did not think of it further.

Teinaava had already climbed into his bed, pulling the blanket fully over his body. He turned towards me, raising an eyebrow as I stayed seated motionless on the mattress. I gave a short sigh, and started to slide the blankets out and slip beneath them.

“Tomorrow I have some business to deal with, but I should be back around evening. What are your plans for the day?” asked Teinaava wearily as he blew out the candle next to his bed. I felt my throat constrict at the thought of the future held in store for me, and for him, before I swallowed deeply and spoke.

“Nothing interesting, probably just staying in the Sanctuary, catching up on sleep,” I said, keeping my voice nonchalant.

He nodded and then rolled over the other way, settling down for sleep. I too blew out my candle, and the room was cast into black, with only the indistinct blurs of resting forms throughout the room keeping the view incompatible that of my dark mind. A few moments passed, and I could hear Teinaava's breathing reach the slow and steady rasp of slumber.

But sleep seemed far off for myself. I couldn't stop the itching feeling within me, reminding me that I could kill them now... that I should kill them all now... Now, while they all slept, would be the time to strike. It would be over quickly, for I had just to slit their throats silently...

No... what if someone where to wake? I couldn't be sure of where Vicente or Ocheeva really were- they could still be awake in their rooms, and then I'd be in a mess. And I was tired... so tired...

And the days I had gone without rest suddenly caught up with me, and before I could convince myself of any action I descended into a deep, dreamless slumber.

***

I awoke the next morning to silence- I was surprised, for the room was normally filled with the sounds of everyone going about their daily routines in the mornings. But as I slid out of my bed and into a pair of clogs, rubbing my eyes and stretching, I sensed the distinct impression that one gets when it is not morning; that I had overslept. I was starting to rise from my bed when suddenly I became aware that someone else was in the room.

M'raaj Dar sat at the long table, and I saw a plate of fruits before him. He seemed to have just noticed me as well. I was confused for a moment when he smiled brightly at me, but then I recalled his actions towards me from the day before.

“Good morning!” he said cheerfully. I stood up from my bed and eyed him suspiciously.

“And to you...” I replied cautiously. Not in the mood to deal with him, I started to make my way out of the room- but as I crossed the threshold of the doorway he called out to me.

“Wait!” I stopped in my tracks, grating my teeth. I turned back and saw that he had risen, and was watching me with anxious eyes. I could tell that he had something on his mind.

“Yes?” I prompted, as he shifted uncomfortably, shuffling his feet.
“Look... I've been thinking, and...” I looked at him expectantly, raising my eyebrows in impatience. I was getting annoyed. “Well... I guess I just want to say I'm sorry for the way I've treated you in the past.”

This time when my eyebrows rose, it was in shock and disbelief. Was this some sort of trick? Why would he do this? What could possibly have happened to change his intense hatred of me? And now, of all times? Why now?

His eyes turned a bit frantic at my reaction, fearful. He continued on hastily, gesturing with his hands emphatically.

“I mean, look at you! The things you've accomplished! You've obviously proven yourself a valuable member of this Sanctuary.” As I looked into his eyes, I was astonished to see the likes of sincerity that few had ever witnessed. He was genuinely concerned about my reaction- he truly cared.

“So let's start over, shall we? I know from now on, you and I are going to be great friends!” he finished, happy to see that my expression had now turned thoughtful instead of disbelieving. He looked at me, his face wary but hopeful, awaiting my response.

And as I stared back at him, I felt my blood begin to boil. What did he think he was doing? Apologizing, now? Why now, of all times... not now! He was going to be my easy kill, one who I would care little to murder- maybe even enjoy! My easy break... but no, now he decides to apologize for his ill treatment of me? Now he wants to be friends?

Why, why are you doing this now?! The question echoed throughout my soul. It was not fair... I glared at the cat, my eyes hard and narrowed. He had ruined the one thing that would make this whole ordeal easier. He did not deserve my forgiveness. It wasn't fair.

And all I had been feeling, the guilt over Telaendril's death, the dread of the Purification, the confusion, the pain, the sorrow... and the anger.... The anger suddenly took form, an explosion of emotion combined as one, simple instinct: kill. The immense power of it all nearly physically staggered me, my head becoming filled with the simple drive. And all that anger was channeled toward the figure before me, awaiting my answer.

Suddenly, as though acting without control, I felt myself smiling sweetly and speaking.

“Of course I forgive you, my dear brother.”
My voice seemed hollow to me, lifeless- but M'raaj Dar only let out an audible sigh of relief and smiled warmly. And then I felt myself spreading out my arms and leaning forward, an invitation for embrace. M'raaj's smile deepened, and I felt another wave of anger flow throughout me. He leaned forward as well, wrapping his arms around my waist loosely. I patted him on the back, my hand stiff and my eyes hard. After a moment I felt him start to draw back, as was customary- but my heart was racing, the adrenaline rushing through my veins, the anger consuming my soul.

In one smooth motion I slid my hands up his back and gripped his fur-covered throat and chin. I saw his expression change from one of joy to that of fear and confusion. My eyes were reflected in his, and I could see in the reflection that mine were livid and full of hate, yet fiery with the lust of a kill.

I smiled a wicked, maniacal grin, and twisted M'raaj Dar roughly around, pressing his back against my body. He let out a hiss of surprise, and started to push away in bewilderment.I leaned my head forward, pulling him back towards me. I put my lips next to his ear, and whispered one word.

“Goodbye.”
And I ripped him back to me, gripping his fur savagely- and I wound his head to the left before violently yanking to the right, twisting downwards with an resounding “crack”. Every emotion I possessed poured into the action, and the ferocity was enough to cause the body to flip over and slam to the floor, his head lolling about unnaturally.

He landed on his back, his arms stretched out wildly and his eyes still open wide in shock. I was panting hard, my breath coming in gasps, chest heaving. Everything around me seemed clear and detailed, down to a drip of wax falling from a candle on the table. My sense were heightened, just as they always were during a kill.

A kill... I felt my smile deepen. I had killed M'raaj Dar, the Khajiit who had always made my life miserable whenever we had encountered each other. He was dead... and I had killed him.

But I could not dwell long in my elation, for after a moment I heard something in the recesses of my mind that made my breath catch up in my chest. Faintly I could make out an echoing clatter, the sound of footsteps on hard stone. And they were approaching rapidly, drawing closer by the second. The footfalls were heavy and dragging, yet the stride was still long and moving quickly.

I was quite still for a split second, planning faster then I had ever had before in my life. And then suddenly I leapt into action; in a flash I had leaned down and slipped my hands under M'raaj Dar's arms, dragging his heavy form frantically towards the beds. I could hear that the approaching figure had rounded the first corner of the hallway- I didn't have much time now.

Somehow, maybe the rush of adrenaline, I found the strength to lift M'raaj Dar's body up onto the bed nearest the table. I ripped aside the covers and angled the Khajiit under them awkwardly, adjusting his lolling head. The steps were just outside the threshold of the entryway- with a thrill of panic, I clambered over the bed that M'raaj Dar lay in and hopped from one bed to the next, landing three away from him. Just as I dropped down to sit, messing up the covers as I did so, the huge figure appeared in the doorway.

Had my senses not been enhanced by the elation of a kill, I surely would not have even heard the footsteps in time; and even now I had cut it close. I was panting, but was trying to control my breathing and force it into even, steady gasps. However, as I continued to watch Gogron shuffle into the room, I realized I probably could not have bothered with this entire cover-up.

He had not even seemed to noticed my presence yet; his steps were unbalanced and wobbly, and his eyes were bloodshot and watery. He was, without a doubt, extremely drunk. As I watched, he came to an unsteady halt, swaying on his feet. He threw his gaze around the room vaguely, blinking hard as he tried to process his surroundings. After a moment he finally locked on to me.

“ 'lo there, Adrienne,” he slurred out.
Before I could reply, he suddenly swiveled his head other way and spotted the table, laden with fruits and breakfast foods. His attention was immediately diverted, and he promptly started to lumber over towards the food with a primal moan of longing. After a tense moment where he seemed about to totter completely over, he navigated himself into a seat on the bench. But just as he was lifting his hands to reach for a plate, he seemed to lose spirit and his fist fell heavily back down onto the table. His eyes were far away, and became even wetter then before- and somehow I knew it wasn't only the drink that was causing this.

I found myself moving towards the table, and angling onto the bench to sit next to Gogron. He barely acknowledged my presence, only inclining his head slightly. As I sat next to him, he shifted slightly, hiding his eyes from me with a fist- but I saw a little clear drop fall from his moist hand. I felt as though something had hit me hard in the stomach, my heart aching for the Orc. I leaned over and wrapped an arm around his thick back, barely reaching the other side. And as though the comfort was too much for him, he collapsed onto me, and I had to use all my strength to keep us both from falling from the bench.

He was shaking silently, and I knew this was for Telaendril. I marveled at him, the Orc who killed little children and masses of people with joy, crying at the loss of one woman. I thought of the time he had sobbed for his rabbit, and I wondered if this was just the drink talking- but I doubted it. We do not know the ones we kill- that is why we are able to complete our contracts, for the most part. But that does not mean that we are incapable of love. For I knew that I loved my family, and I knew that Gogron had loved Telaendril. And I had killed her, just as I would now have to kill him.

My throat had constricted and I felt my breath catch up as emotion and despair nearly overtook me- but as I shifted to find a better grip on Gogron, my leg bumped against something beneath the table. I looked down, and saw that it was my travel bag. For a moment I was confused, but then I remembered how it had disappeared the night before- someone had probably moved it here when the room had been cleaned. I was about to push it from my mind when something stopped me from turning back to him.

For now a strange feeling had descended upon me- I felt as though my head was cloudy, my thoughts not my own; yet at the same time, I knew that though nothing had ever been clearer. I was not controlling myself, I felt as though some invisible force was guiding me along my way, whispering in my ear the next step.

I found myself leaning down, keeping a hand securely holding up Gogron and patting him on the back, whilst the other was searching my travel pack. I stopped when I felt what I had been searching for- a round, smooth surface. With a small smile of triumph upon my face that was not my own, I pulled out a crimson red apple. Its surface glinted maliciously in the candlelight, the faint mark of the Brotherhood barely visible upon it's unblemished skin.

I felt as though I was watching myself from outside my own body, for I knew I was not in control. I held the apple up, regarding it carefully, before leaning over to Gogron.

“Here, why don't you eat something? It will make you feel better...” I said, my voice soft and soothing, but my gaze intent and anxious. He sniffed, rubbing his nose clumsily with a sleeve, and looked at the apple with bleary eyes. After a moment he took it clumsily from my grasp, taking a huge mouthful and chomping with an open mouth. My smile widened, this new part of me celebrating my success, while something else deep inside of me cried out in anguish.

He had taken another bite from the apple, his expression pleased and eyes brighter then before. I continued to watch as he swallowed, wondering how long it would be until the effects took hold. I found myself hoping it wouldn't be much of a wait- I had a lot to do.

And my eyes widened as Gogron suddenly stopped chewing, his expression turning sour. He tried to take a deep breath, but it sounded as though something was caught in his throat. His body shuddered and jerked unexpectedly, and he started to become limp in my arms. He was shaking uncontrollably, trying to breathe- but nothing could get through his air passage. The poisoned apple was doing it's job... he spasmed again, and in that last moment before his head fell to the side, he looked up into my eyes.

They were full of pain, confusion, fear- and betrayal. He was silent, but I could feel them asking me, pleading, “Why?”. And then his body stopped it's convulsing, and the light left his eyes. He fell back, but his eyes remained open, staring straight at me, as though still searching through my dark, dark soul. But I turned away, only a fleeting spark of despair filling my heart before my mind was on other things. I could not think about it, I could not face it.

This was just like any other contract, I had to kill the targets as quickly and efficiently as possible. I already knew that I would not be able to lift Gogron to a bed as I had M'raaj Dar, so his death could not be concealed. I needed to kill the others outside of this room then, if I wanted to surprise them. For I also knew that I could not defeat more then one of the members of the Sanctuary in battle at at time, and that the element of surprise was therefore my best weapon.

I rose from my seat, letting Gogron's head fall to the bench. I began to mentally assess my options- I knew that Teinaava would be out until evening, and a part of me felt a sense of relief to that fact. Ocheeva was most likely in her room working on business, and I was almost certain that Vicente would be in his room sleeping after a night out. I felt no hesitation when I decided that my next target would be Vicente.

I reached down under the table and lifted out my travel pack, slipping my hands in and pulling out the scroll of Rufio, along with the Blade of Woe. I strapped everything into place, and rose up again. Once again I felt that cloudy sensation overtake my mind, and without any comprehensible or logical thought, I found myself leaning forward and reaching for a clove of garlic that laid upon the table. Watching my own hand in amazement, I crushed the garlic against the blade of my dagger, smearing it with vigor.

I was in the hallway now, walking towards Vicente's room. I passed Ocheeva's closed doors and could hear the faint sound of a quill scratching on parchment. Later, I said to myself. Soon. I made my way down the hallway, and soon stood outside Vicente's room, listening intently for any movement from within. There was none.

I opened the heavy doors cautiously, slipping in as soon as it was possible for my body to fit, and closed them silently behind me. Vicenete was laying rigidly on his back upon a stone slab, arms crossed in the fashion that vampires tend to be fond of. His breaths were slow and steady, his chest rising and falling demurely.

I stepped forward slowly, my boots making no sound on the carpeted floor. My heart was pounding in my chest, adrenaline rushing through my veins. I knew that Vicente was powerful, and I knew that I could not defeat him in a physical battle. It was very important that he not wake up... and as I drew closer, I drew my dagger slowly from it's sheath, fingering it's smooth surface almost lovingly.

I was soon next to the bed, my heart racing in anticipation. I slowly lowered the dagger to his throat, eyes wide as it came close to his flesh. I pressed it softly against him, and paused- I did not look into his face, only at the dagger. Taking a deep breath, I prepared to draw it across his neck.

“Wait.”
I let out the breath in a gasp of surprise, my grip on the blade faltering for a split second. I looked down in horror to find that Vicente's eyes blood red eyes were wide open, trained directly upon me. I looked away quickly, for I felt something deep within me stirring.

“I must do this... I have no choice” I replied with a deep swallow, and I readjusted my grip on the Blade of Woe with determination in my eyes. As I did so I could hear him inhaling deeply, painfully. The garlic... but he drew in a raspy, choking breath, and spoke again.

“I know.”
My hand stopped, my entire body motionless.
“Adrienne, look at me- I... know...”
I slowly turned to look at his face, mouth slightly open and eyes wide.

“How...how could...” my voice was soft, quivering. I felt the barrier I had been constructing starting to crumble.

“I have lived a...long time.... and I know the inner workings of the... Black Hand... better than most... I have... expected this...”

Expected this? I thought fervently. Expected this? Then why did he do nothing to stop it? Could he be the traitor? No, not Vicenete... was my first thought. But then... could he be?

My mind was becoming focused again, my purpose and resolve reaffirmed. I felt my fears, my anxieties, my emotions being swept away and hidden once again; I regained control, I regained my resolve. I had to kill him.

“I know you think that this...is necessary... but you always.... always have a choice...” his voice was weaker, and his face had become even paler then customary. But I was no longer looking at his face, however; my eyes were only upon my dagger.

“Killing is all that I have. Without it, I am nothing.” My voice hard, full of conviction. And then I focused on his neck, no longer thinking of what lay above my line of sight- and dug the blade deep into his throat, pulling it across his neck with almost unnecessary force.

There was a sickening crack and his guttural breathing stopped- the only sound now that of blood streaming from his open neck to the cold stone slab, and dripping down onto the stone floors.

I watched for a moment as the thick liquid pooled up, swirling about in different shades of red, before wiping my dagger casually across his black tunic until it gleamed unheeded by blood once again. I cast my eye about the room scrutinizingly, before I swiveled on my heel to stride out of the room.

I closed the heavy doors behind me with a sense of finality, letting out a breath of air. Next, Ocheeva, my thoughts said, almost mechanically. As I strode purposefully up the hallway, my mind was occupied with plans to bring about her death with the least bit of trouble on my part. So intense was my plotting that I did not hear the footsteps in the Entry Hall until I was at the end of the corridor, at Ocheeva's doorway.

I turned to find Teinaava in the middle of the room, having just descended from the well ladder. I froze, staring at him with shock and horror. He was looking at me with the expression of one who has just spotted a dear friend, and is happy to do so.

“Ah, Adrienne! Good to see you,” he said, his voice jovial.
I nodded curtly in response, not trusting myself to speak. This wasn't right, he wasn't supposed to be here until evening! My plan was dissembling before my eyes, starting to crumble... I felt despair starting to take over, and I struggled to regain control.

He was now looking at me curiously, with concern.
“Are you alright?” he asked, taking a step forward.
I nodded once again, forcing a smile. He continued to watch me.

“Well I'm sure some food will make you feel better. Let's eat a late lunch, shall we?” he replied, eyes still a bit perturbed. I felt my heart drop to the bottom of my stomach, dread overtaking me. Not to the Living Quarters, not there... I could not let him down there...

But I felt myself nodding once again in reply, and gesturing for him to walk before me with a gallant wave of my arm, not meeting his eyes. He smiled, and turned to make in the direction of the thick doors.

As he walked towards the doors, his step steady and ringing throughout my ears, I felt the customary sensation that I had to end that sound... but this time I did not wish to do so, as was also customary. I struggled to fight off this conflicting emotion, wincing in the effort. He was drawing close to the doors now, I had to strike soon. I could not let him into the Living Quarters, he would find the bodies... it was time.

I could not control my hand as it slid down my side for the dagger at my waist. The Blade of Woe felt foreign in my hand, despite it's familiarity. I started at his back, part of me preparing to break his flesh, and the other crying out in pain and anguish. I could not look him in the eye, and was thankful that I would not have to see his face as I delivered my blow.

Some part of me inside watched in horror as I drew close, raising the dagger high above my head. I gripped the hilt tightly, for my hands were shaking nearly uncontrollably. It must be now. I squeezed my eyes shut and let out a breath.

Now.
In a flash I opened my eyes, the light from the lanterns nearly blinding me as I wound the dagger up backwards. Before I could hesitate I thrust the gleaming blade forwards, stabbing Teinaava in the back violently. I had aimed below his left shoulder, and I felt the dagger puncture his heart. I heard him gasp out in pain, yet with agonizing deliberation, I shoved the blade even further into his flesh, and then released it in disgust.

As I let go of the dagger, I watched as his body started to fall to the ground. I was breathing hard, an odd ringing in my ears, yet no rush of elation from the kill was coming. I felt empty, a sense of nothingness consuming me.

But as I continued to watch, I was horrified as his body started to twist back in my direction. As he fell, he was rotating his body to face me. He knew that this meant he would land on his back, which would stick the dagger even further into him... but he had to meet my eyes, for he could not believe this to be true. I could not turn away, and my eyes were wide when his met mine.

There was no pain in his eyes; at least, not physical pain. For when he met my eyes he could see in their hollowness, in their emptiness, that it was me. That I had stabbed him in the back. And his eyes were filled with betrayal and disbelief; he did not want to believe it... horror and sorrow, treachery and perfidy were clear in his cloudy eyes...

I felt whatever defense I had been keeping starting to further collapse around me as my heart was ripped in two, and my vision became cloudy as my eyes began to water. I could not draw my gaze from his eyes, as though they were keeping me in a trance; punishing me.

Teinaava hit the ground and let out a gasp of pain as the dagger appeared in his breast, having gone completely through his body. And from the adjoining room, a similar cry of pain was echoed. A second later thick doors swung open from behind us, and I felt Ocheeva brush past me as she ran to Teinaava, her arms outstretched and eyes wild, her own breast having felt the same pain. She dropped to her knees beside him, hands hovering over the dagger in horror before she cradled his head in her palms; but Teinaava did not look at her, for his eyes were still focused upon me, and they were now only full of sadness- almost a pity. I could not draw my gaze away, and with each moment I remained in eye contact with him I felt as though part of my self was drifting away.

His breath was short and labored now, and Ocheeva was rocking him back and forth with shaking hands, little sobs escaping her lips.

“Brother... brother...” she wailed.
Even then he did not turn to look at her, for his eyes were still upon me. Tears were pooling in my eyes now, and he was watching me almost coolly. He did not understand, could not comprehend... what had he done wrong? He had been my dearest friend... or so he had thought.. but now this... a knife in the back... he did not feel the pain from the wound, only the pain from a betrayed heart...

I finally looked him in the eye, a tear sliding slowly from my cheek while his eyes hardened- and suddenly he took one last painful gasp, shuddering, before his breathing stopped forever. And his eyes still lay upon me even in death, haunting me forever in their vacant and lifelessness.

I watched on, feeling oddly hollow and empty, a strange ringing in my ears- but nothing could mask Ocheeva's wails of anguish, holding the body of her egg-mate against her own, shaking back and forth with sorrow. I felt weak on my legs and fell against a pillar, pressing my head against the cold stone. I had done it. Teinaava was dead... I had killed my dearest friend... it was done...

As I looked at the scene before me, I realized that Teinaava was wearing his town clothes, not his customary dark leather armor- and I remembered a conversation we had once had... he had hated his town clothes... he always wore the Dark Brotherhood leather armor because he felt it was the most comfortable thing in the world... and he was happy that he would die in it, someday- during a contract, most likely... but no... I had taken that luxury from him...

I shouldn't have done it, not now! But it would have never been right... there was never a good time to kill your dearest friend...

Suddenly Ocheeva grew silent, and she lowered his body tenderly to the ground. And slowly, deliberately, she finally followed his gaze back to me, her eyes bewildered. But when she saw the look in my eyes, my empty, hollow eyes... almost like a void... a dawning comprehension appeared in her own. Her eyes widened, horrified, as she understood... and suddenly a fire lit within her as she narrowed her gaze, the anger radiating off her body in waves.

She stood slowly, watching me maniacally, her hands slowly going for the short sword at her waist. I blinked several times to clear my moist eyes, feeling a ripple of panic descend upon me. I did not have a weapon, and I knew her skill exceeded my own at battle. She drew her sword threateningly, eying me with vengeful triumph. I started to back away in fear, watching Ocheeva move closer.

Suddenly she let out a primal shriek of rage and retaliation, and charged forward at me, swinging her sword high above her head. I ducked and rolled, and I felt the wind from the sword's swing striking the pillar just above me, stone crumbling from the strength of the hit. I was stumbling backwards now, trying to prepare for her next move. She was stalking forward, a small smile of satisfaction on her lips. She made another swing for my head, and I spun backwards and opened the thick Training Room doors, her sword striking the metal hinge just below where my had lay. She gave a cry of frustration as I turned and sprinted down the hallway, trying to focus my mind and stop the flow of panic.

I entered the Training Room and could hear her following, grunting with animalistic fury. My eyes darted about the room frantically- and I spotted the weapons rack. I bounded over and whipped out a long, thin iron sword. I barely had time to turn and face the entryway, brandishing my sword up high, before Ocheeva appeared. Her step was cautious, but when she spotted me she instantly stood in battle stance, stalking forward with threatening precision. I was fingering the hilt of my sword with anticipation, trying to get a comfortable grip.

We were both waiting for the other to be the first to strike, each wanting the advantage of being on the defense for the first hit. After a moment of circling each other, Ocheeva's anger grew to be too much for her to contain and she darted forward, slicing downwards. I deflected the blow and retaliated by striking upwards towards her neck, but she swung her sword up just in time, the power of our clashing blade sending me backwards a few steps.

We sparred back and forth, feeling each other out. I was quicker, and she knew this- but Ocheeva was far stronger then I. Each time she deflected a blow the reverberations traveled up and down my arm, shaking to my very bones. I could not keep her at bay for long, and she also knew that.

As I was recovering from her latest attack, Ocheeva suddenly lashed back at me with an extraordinary speed, aiming to slice across my chest. I barely had time to throw my sword up horizontally to block the strike, her sword skimming my tunic. But instead of drawing back when our swords clanked together, she pushed forward, and hard. My arm gave out under her strength, and I stumbled backwards to be thrown back against the wall.

She gave a cry of triumph, brandishing her sword high as I fell, my breath thrown away as my back collided with the wall. She was swinging her sword at me, eyes wild with exultation, sure she had killed me now... I had rebounded off the wall, and was falling forward... my sword was slipping from my grasp, and I looked up in horror as hers came slicing towards me. I tried to duck my head, and in doing so leaned forward and automatically grasped at my falling sword... and I was shocked when I felt the sword puncture something, and when Ocheeva suddenly shouted out in pain, her thrust faltering.

I looked down to see that I had stabbed her in the foot, the sword having gone straight through and hit the stone floor beneath her. I whipped the blade out of her flesh and desperately swung towards her neck, but she was still able to block it with ease, despite her injury. Frustrated, I continued my onslaught heedlessly, driving her to step back with each strike, taking the advantage for the first time. We continued striking and blocking, the clanging of swords echoing throughout the empty hall.

I was pushing Ocheeva backwards, never stopping my flurry of attack, and we were progressing up the hallway towards the Entry Hall. She was limping slightly, her foot leaving a trail of blood behind her- but her attacks were as strong as ever, her eyes just as determined. Only her breathing had changed, becoming more labored. However, I was still unprepared when we reached the doors and she suddenly struck back with immeasurable ferocity. To avoid her sword I turned about in full circle, and she was now driving me back.

I was taking a step in recovery from the impact of a particularly strong thrust when I stepped on an upraise in the floor, slipping in something. I stumbled, and looked down to see that I had trod upon Teinaava's wrist, laying in a pool of blood. Ocheeva too looked down, but when her eyes landed upon the body of her brother they suddenly became defocused, lingering on his face; and they lingered just long enough for me to recover my footing, regain my grip my sword, and drive it deep into her stomach.

She gasped, dropping her own sword with a clatter as mine pierced her inner organs. I pressed the swords hilt against the skin on her belly before heaving my it back out of her- then I sliced it violently across her stomach, blood gushing forth as her innards spilled out onto the stone floor. She dropped to her knees, bloody hands grasping at the wound on her stomach. She looked up at me, a scowl of pain and anger upon her face. And suddenly I felt a wave of self revulsion so powerful that I nearly threw up; what had I done?

“I'm sorry...” I choked out, staggering on my feet, my sword also clattering to the floor as I let it slip from my fingers. She returned my statement with a look of withering resentment and disbelief, before gasping out in pain as a fresh spurt of blood surged from her stomach. She looked down at her wound, a tear escaping her reptilian eye. I watched as she fell forward on her stomach, landing right next to Teinaava, who lay on his back. Her pool of blood joined his, merging together in a swirl of crimson. They lay side by side now in the end, just as they had lain together so long ago in the beginning.

I fell to my knees at their heads, my eyes watering as I looked down at the bodies of the Argonian twins. Ocheeva was breathing long, laborious breaths, coughing up blood. She shifted her head towards her brother, staring at Teinaava with loving and sad eyes- a smile appeared on her face, and her eyes suddenly seemed far away. And the breathing stopped.

I was silent for a moment, listening intently- but no more breath came, the only sound that of blood dripping on the stone floors. And now my eyes were burning with tears, my body shaking uncontrollably. I looked about the Sanctuary in an oddly detached way, as though through someone else's eyes. It didn't feel real... but what was real and inescapable was the awful pressing feeling in my chest, like an iron grip around my heart... everything I had been trying to escape, all that I had been trying to repress, it was suddenly let loose in a explosion of emotion.

I let out a shriek of anguish, leaning down and pressing my face to the cold stone. I was sobbing, emotion pouring out of me like I had never experienced, for I had accepted the enormous and incomprehensible truth- they were dead, all of them, by my hand...

I remembered the feeling of elation I had felt when I first came here- at finally belonging, finally having a family. And now I had destroyed it. I was alone again. Alone. I would never again hear the loud, booming voice of Gogron telling his stories of blood and gore, never again the echoing laughter of Teinaava, Telaendril and myself as we listened on... nor the eloquent voice of Vicente Valtieri, or Ocheeva's attempts at remaining serious when she walked in on our drunken mayhem...

M'raaj Dar's hopeful and overjoyed expression when I accepted his truce; Gogron's trusting face as I handed him the apple; Vicente's words of understanding and choice; Teinaava's look of betrayal as he turned to face me after I stabbed him in the back... and Ocheeva's horrified expression, and her question, “Why?”... and her final glare of hatred... each flashed before me, haunting me vengefully.

I don't know how long I sat there- but I know that it was long enough for my eyes to run dry and my voice to become hoarse from weeping, until I had started to shake with silent sobs. I became still then, lifting my head from the stone floor.

Why... the question echoed throughout my mind. Why did I do this? Doubt encompassed me, filling my grieving soul. I had to, I had no choice... But did I? Vicente said that you always have a choice... No. I did the only thing I could do.

I was staring blankly at the bodies, uncomprehendingly watching as the pool of blood inched ever closer to my knees, a pounding sensation in my ears... when suddenly something broke through my veil of grief, and I looked up in alarm.

Standing in the doorway, framed by the scarlet glow emitting off the ancient door, was Antoinetta Marie.

She was staring at the bodies, taking in the scene with wide eyes, gleaming red. I felt a wave of shock; how had I forgotten Antoinetta? And as I watched her, a small smile appeared on my face, a familiar sensation starting to wash over me. I felt a rush run through my blood, a thrill rising in my stomach- finally, I was going to kill Antoinetta Marie! The girl who had made every effort to make my life difficult, who would hiss words of insult while the other's backs were turned... who taunted me, almost pressuring me into breaking the tenants to kill her... well now, the tenants could not protect her any longer...

I looked up and saw with surprise that she too was smiling- a triumphant smile, full of malicious glee.

“I always knew that you were a traitor,” she spat out, taking a step closer to me. I arched an eyebrow, rising slowly to my feet. My eyes were dry now, not a trace of the sorrow detectable, for they were now glowing in sadistic anticipation.

“Yes..”, she nodded, still smiling. “I knew you were too good to be true...” Her expression turned bitter. “Oh how they would go on about you! But I guess they saw the truth there, in the end...”

I was watching her intently, just as she was watching me- her eyes were gleaming with felicity, for her most wild dreams seemed to have come true- that she would expose me as a traitor, and take all the glory... she did not seem to mind that it meant the death of her fellow family members...

I was stepping backwards, trying to avoid the bodies of Teinaava and Ocheeva, eying her right hand as it hovered near the hilt of her sword. Suddenly I stumbled, and I looked down and cursed as I realized I had almost tripped over Teinaava's wrist again. And I lifted my head to see a small dagger spiraling towards me. The filthy coward!

I dropped to the ground, landing clumsily on my back as the dagger sliced through strands of my hair. Antoinetta let out a cry of fury, reaching for her sword. I gasped, flipping over and frantically crawling forward, reaching towards the sword lying next to Ocheeva's body. Antoinetta started to sprint towards me, her eyes blazing like a madwoman, her blade gleaming menacingly in the torch light. I gripped the hilt of the bloodied sword and rolled to the side, Antoinetta's blade striking the ground where I had laid seconds before.

In a flash I had leapt to my feet, balanced on my toes and fully prepared in battle stance. She was doing the same, panting hard and expression sour. Our eyes were locked as we circled each other, the mutual hatred emanating off our very bodies and making the air thick with anger and loathing.

I was the first to strike, slicing first downwards and then cutting quickly upwards. She blocked it and retaliated quickly, stabbing towards my stomach. I jumped to the side, bending my back to avoid the attack. We continued like this, jabbing and sparring, until suddenly I found myself being backed into a corner. She was driving me backwards, and I could not regain control of the battle. I tried to take a step forwards, but she cut downwards at my foot and I was forced to retreat once again.

Suddenly she swung her sword high over her head and struck downwards, and even though I blocked it easily, the force of the blow forced me to stagger a few steps- and I was shocked when I hit my back on a stone wall. As I was trying to recover my footing, she stabbed forwards with her blade. I turned my head to the side, but was not quick enough. I gasped in pain and surprise as the sword sliced my flesh, a deep gash appearing on my cheek. My hand flew to my face, and when I drew it away it was covered in dark red blood. Antoinetta was recovering from her strike, watching me triumphantly.

“Oh no, did I scar your pretty face?” she mocked, her face twisted in scornful derision.

Blood was pouring down the side of my face, and I felt it dripping over my lip. I opened my mouth and let the red liquid stream onto my tongue. As I stood again, Antoinetta preparing to swing her sword again, I prepared a mouthful of blood. Just as she started to laugh, cutting her blade up towards my stomach, I violently spit out a mixture of saliva and blood at her face.

With a shriek of disgust, she fell back, hands flying to her eyes where the spit had hit her. I pushed myself off from the wall and kicked her violently in the stomach. She stumbled back, hands still wiping frantically at her eyes. I stepped forward, ready to deliver a killing blow, my heart racing in joyful anticipation... but suddenly she recovered as my blade cut towards her face, and she struck back, our swords clanging above our heads. The shock was too much and my arm gave out, causing me to drop my sword with a deafening clatter.

But she was pushed back by the impact as well, and fell back a bit- but her face was full of such triumph, like she felt that she had won... and I felt a fury rise up within me, such anger, that I needed to act upon it. I needed the violence...

And before any further thought, I swung my right fist around and punched Antoinetta in the face with all my might. The impact alone felt as though it cracked my knuckles- and maybe even her cheekbone, I thought with satisfaction. But something I did not realize until I heard Antoinetta's cry of horror was that my ring, the Ring of Cruelty, had been upon my finger- and it had dug straight into her right eye, destroying it. Blood and tissue was pouring forth from the gory mass, and she was gasping in agony as she pawed helplessly at it's remains.

“Oh no, I think I've scarred your face!” I hissed, looking down at my ring with disgust. It was covered in skin and blood.

She lowered her hands from her face slowly, shuddering in silent sobs of pain. Her eyelid had already swollen down and covered the eye socket, and only a bloody mass of skin could be seen- it was a gory sight indeed. But she was shifting her hand on the hilt of her sword, regaining a firm grip. Her remaining eye was fixed upon me, filled with a loathing that I could not have thought possible. I was suddenly aware that my sword lay on the ground to my left, far from my reach.

“I am going to cut off your head... and present it to Lucien Lachance... and show him what his little prodigy truly is!” she said, her voice quivering with fury and bubbling with the blood flowing from her eye.

And suddenly, unexpectedly, I found myself laughing uproariously. She became dangerously still, and I laughed even harder. That jealous little witch... I thought with disdain. Everything that she had ever said to me, all her hatred for all this time, suddenly made sense, finally confirmed. Jealousy. It was so pathetic I could not help but be amused. But also as I was laughing, I was slowly inching towards my fallen sword.

“Darling-” I spat out uncharacteristically. “- Lucien was the one who sent me to kill you!”

And I ducked downwards, reaching for my blade. As I gained my grip on the hilt I swung upwards automatically, but was met with nothing but open air- she had not attacked me. Instead she was still standing motionless, her expression blank.

“You lie,” she said, her voice hollow. I arched an eyebrow, and swung my sword towards her neck. She lifted her blade with both hands and blocked it- our swords clanged together, each of us pressing hard to push the other back, locked in the struggle. I leaned forward, sliding my lips near her ear.

“I would never,” I whispered, and pushed forward with all my strength. She staggered back, her expression aghast.

“You can't... both be traitors... not Lucien...” she murmured, eyes pleading for disbelief.

“But aren't you the traitor, Antoinetta?” I asked scathingly. I had meant it only to infuriate her, and was shocked when she nearly dropped her sword with horror in response to my question.

“How could...?” was her vague question, her eyes wide with surprise and dismay- but I paid her no heed, giving no thought to what this could mean.

My heart was pounding wildly in my chest, blood and adrenaline coursing through my veins; I felt a familiar thrill building in my stomach. Now, now was my chance! I watched my sword sail through the air towards her exposed neck with an expression of the utmost joy, eyes alight with a primal exultation. As my blade came close to her flesh I closed my eyes in ecstasy, mouth agape as I felt the sword cut into her skin. My blow was so powerful that I felt the blade break straight through her spine, severing her skull from her body in one thrust. I heard the “thump” of her head landing on the ground, and opened my eyes to the dazzling scene before me.

Finally, at long last, Antoinetta was dead! I felt such a feeling of elation like none I had ever experienced form a kill- I had waited so long for this moment, dreamed of it- and finally, here she lay, dead by my hand! An explosion of feeling, so powerful and inexplicable, was coursing through my body, leaving me unable to even move for a moment it was so overwhelming.

And when I summoned the strength to look about the room, my eyes traveled from the forms of Ocheeva and Teinaava lying dead in front of me to Antoinetta's headless corpse at my side... but my expression did not change from the one of utmost sadistic joy, with wild eyes and a smile of bloodied teeth- for the only regret that I felt was that Antoinetta's death had been over too quickly...
...for nothing could surpass a satisfying kill.

Nothing.

Chapter Nineteen: Self-Control, Self-Contempt

Lucien Lachance sighed with satisfaction, carefully placing his quill back into the finely ornamented ink bottle at his elbow. He looked down at his piece of parchment fondly, the elaborate script still moist upon its surface, shimmering softly from the glow of the fire. Leaning in closer, he gently blew over the parchment, drying it with the utmost care. This was an important letter, he thought with a sardonic grin- he had to make sure it was in perfect condition for delivery.

Scanning the page quickly, he reread its contents with pride, cherishing that even the first line had its dose of subtle hostility. Well... on second thought, maybe it was not quite so subtle; he chuckled maliciously as he read on. Nonetheless he was quite confident that the one who was to read this letter would be incapable of parsing through the large vocabulary and overzealous praise to discover the true insult intended. And so he felt no trepidation when he folded the parchment up neatly and sealed it shut with the insignia on his ring- two L's intertwined elaborately around a dagger, a symbol of the Black Hand framing the scene. Teinaava and Ocheeva had had this ring made for him upon his promotion to Speaker, and he had used it religiously ever since.

Looking at the ring brought back the flood of thoughts he had been working so hard to keep at bay, for the letter had been a distraction, as intended, from such musings... Teinaava and Ocheeva... the Sanctuary... and with them came a reminders of the Purification... and of Adrienne. Since the letter had arrived from Ocheeva detailing the circumstances of Telaendril's death, Lucien knew that Adrienne had decided to go through with the Purification for the Brotherhood... and for him...

He was experiencing something that he had not encountered in quite some time- and that was intense emotion. And the emotion that it had currently taken form as was worry. He was worried about her- worried about her efforts to complete the Purification, and he couldn't control it. He thought his feelings had been tiresome before he had received the letter... but now he knew she was going to, on his orders (or, more likely, already had), attempt to kill several of the Brotherhood's most skilled assassins- but not only that, she would be killing those she had come to call “family”. It would be difficult, and she would have to overcome many obstacles (not merely physical, but those emotional as well- he reminded himself) to succeed. She was one of the few people who was actually capable of such a task... but for some inexplicable reason, the sensation of an unnatural weight in his stomach remained; a feeling almost like he had eaten something unsettling.

He found the entire concept quite unnerving, to worry over someone other than himself. Yes, he felt anxiety sometimes, for the going-ons within the Brotherhood, for its future under the leadership of the fool Ungolim- but this was something quite different. This was feeling for one single person, someone not himself, and it was nearly overwhelming to his inexperienced psyche.

He shook his head slightly- his thoughts were running away from him, and he gave a grimace of disgust at his lack of self discipline. Lucien was a man who liked to be in control... of everything. He was powerful, intelligent, and arrogant, and these traits resulted in him being very good at influencing a situation to turn out the way that benefited him most. He was in complete control of those around him, as well as himself, in nearly every aspect possible.

He had trained himself to be so- he had taught himself to be capable of regulating even his very emotions. The process had been treacherous, and not all of which had been through entirely intentional methods- yet the outcome had been that he could choose when and how he would let an event or a person effect him. But not now... Adrienne had found a way through these defenses that had taken him years to construct, and it seemed she had done so effortlessly- and even unintentionally.

He had even had the notion to go down to the Cheydinhal Sanctuary himself already- but he knew he should wait until at least the end of the week before taking such drastic action. And that was a ridiculous notion, anyways. What was he going to do, aid her in her task? The Black Hand had sanctioned this mission to her, and her alone. No matter how ridiculous, an order was an order- he served the Dark Brotherhood and its matrons with the utmost conviction and loyalty- and Lucien had been told not to interfere. Yet he still found himself fighting the urge to throw back his chair and make his way through the clouded night to the Sanctuary....

Lucien sighed, tenting his slender long fingers against his furrowed brow. After a moment he closed his eyes tight with frustration, trying to clear his mind once again. The courier was due soon, and the Speaker was awaiting this arrival to send off his parcel to Ungolim. The thought of the letter brought a slight smile to his features, and he opened his eyes and drew his hands away from his face, shifting his muscles in the creaking chair. Lucien looked down at the old wooden seat, fingering the armrest thoughtfully- it had been here for at least decade, and he knew it would most likely remain there for another one after this. He really wasn't one for redecorating, he thought grimly...

Suddenly the hairs on the back of his neck rose and a chill ran down his spine, his blood running cold- there was someone else nearby, and close. Lucien leapt from his chair and whipped around to find a figure standing in the center of the room, covered by the shadows cast from the blazing fire. His hand went for his dagger, but he paused in mid-motion as the silhouette moved forward. Icy blue eyes met his, and he felt his blood run frigid at the emptiness he found within their depths.

The woman stepped into the beam of light shining down from the open trapdoor, her pale, alabaster skin reflecting brilliantly off the gathering moonlight. Her black hair was down loose again, thrown back from her face and flowing softy in the slight breeze that snaked down into the room. Glowing from the starlight, she was like a vision, a goddess- and Lucien was at first stunned into speechlessness at the sight of her, his eyes locked in hers.

There was a brief silence, Adrienne watching Lucien with an expressionless gaze while he tried to mask his surprise, swallowing deeply. How in Sithis's name had she gotten in without him knowing? He must have been deep in thought, that must have been it... yet it still left him feeling uncomfortable that she had been able to do so, and he found himself starting to doubt his own abilities for the first time in years...

But those same years of practice let him hold his composure, his eyes not letting any of his alarm show. He continued to hold her gaze, seemingly as collected as ever.

"Ah, Adrienne," he finally spoke, keeping his voice nonchalant.

She inclined her head in response, and when she raised her eyes all that he was met with was the hollow shells of one who has not only just witnessed great tragedy, but also been the cause of it, for he had known the moment he had seen her darkened eyes that the Purification was complete.

She was...different, and there was no other way to describe it. Her stature was as tall as before, her shoulders squared defiantly to the world- but her normally proud chin was lowered, framed by a face paler then customary while her very aura radiated grief. And there was something else different, but he could not quite place it...

Yes, the grief was to be expected- yet Lucien could not help finding himself feeling... proud that she was in such considerably good state. There had been a silence while he had been pondering this, and he realized she was waiting for him to speak.

“And so, I take it that the ritual of Purification has been completed?” he said, only a slight hint of question in his voice.

“It is done,” she inclined her head once again, her voice toneless.

“They are dead, yes...but it is not done...” Lucien murmured, while Adrienne looked up at him, a sense of alarm in her eyes. He was not looking forward to this... it was something he knew would be difficult; something he had not had thought to tell her of during their last meeting, so enraptured with her presence he had been... He turned suddenly, pacing away from her for a few steps, his posture showing that he was thinking furiously. After a moment he swiveled on his heel, finally having prepared his words.

“Have you heard of something termed as the 'Ritual of Descent'?” Her eyes, which filled with vague recognition, gave him his answer- and so he continued, an ominous sigh in his voice. “It is a sort of funeral, if you will, that must be performed for a servant of Sithis to travel safely to his side in the Void,” He watched her carefully, and saw that the calm, collected air she had been grasping to was starting to dissemble before his very eyes.

“Oh!” she let out a soft gasp. “I... they are all...dead... but I did not know of a Ritual that was necessary in order to join Sithis!” Her eyes were darting around frantically, despair radiating off from her very body. He knew that the very notion that her family members may be lost forever in a state of limbo, never reaching the destination that should await those who had loyally served their dark matrons was terrible enough- but that now it would be her fault... “Is there still time?” she finally asked, her voice breaking.

He placed a large, strong hand firmly on her shoulder, staring intently at her lowered face.

“The Ritual may be performed up to several days after death- it has not even been long enough since I last saw you for there to be worry,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “It will be taken care of, I assure you.”

He watched her, eyes carefully scanning the contours of her face- and after a moment of silence Lucien felt her shoulders sag as she let out a deep breath, and he let his hand slide off down her arm, lingering for just a moment on her soft skin. She raised her downcast head then, her eyes looking up into his with an expression that Lucien could not interpret. He found himself transfixed, mystified- she held his gaze unwaveringly, something she had never been capable of before...

And suddenly a dull pounding was all he heard, enclosed in the otherwise eerie silence encompassing the two of them; he was aware of how close they now stood, mere inches separating their flesh... her gaze was so intense, he could not stand it, he had to look away; and so with a great effort he tore his eyes from hers, and let them drift downwards, where they stopped at her mouth... her lips, so soft, so inviting... her eyes were fiery now, he could sense it.... he felt himself starting to lean forward, and as he drew even closer he felt the warmth of her body engulf his own... his stomach suddenly felt light and empty, as though a gust of wind had lifted him into the air while he inhaled her scent... Nightshade... a rush of feeling warming his very core... they were very close now, so close....

No!

Lucien drew his body away from Adrienne, taking a hasty step back into the shadows. She was watching him in alarm, her eyes wide- he raised a hand and pressed it against his brow, closing his own eyes tightly. What had just happened? Why had he done that? It had been so unexpected, so unlike him... What in the name of Chaos was he thinking?

That was just it- he hadn't been thinking, he berated himself. Disgusted in his lack of control, he started to prepare himself to face her, for he was dreading her reaction to his idiocy; he took a breath and opened his eyes again to look back to Adrienne- but instead his gaze was drawn to her cheek, where a thin line of blood was starting to drip down to her neck. He was confused- hadn't this same wound been bleeding upon her last visit?

But she had noticed his focus on her cheek, and was watching him with a look of perplexity and bewilderment. Untrusting of himself to speak yet, he raised a hand to his own face, not risking moving close enough to touch hers. A look of dawning comprehension in her eyes, Adrienne followed his action and touched her bloodied cheek, wincing slightly at the tenderness of the wound.

“Yes... well, it wasn't the skeletons this time,” she said, her tone slightly sardonic. He didn't quite know what to make of it- and he found himself wondering about the Purification, what she had done. He wondered what tactics she had used to kill the ones she had loved, who had died first, and why- he wondered if she had killed them all at once, or if their deaths had been each a separate, sacred to her- he wondered if she had cried for her fallen family members, if she regretted her actions now-and he wondered who had been the one to injure her how fiercely she had struck back... but after a moment of silence she did not elaborate, so he decided it was time for him to speak.

“In any case, it seems that the wound is much deeper then last we met- I'm going to assume that you've already used some sort of wizardry in an attempt to heal it?” He relished in the change of subject, allowing himself to forget what had just happened- or nearly happened, rather. She considered him for a moment before answering, her eyes dark.

“Just your basic health spells; unfortunately my skill in the art of Restoration is far too sorely lacking to have allowed for anything complex.”

That was what he had expected, and he responded with a grim face. “I'm afraid that it wouldn't make much of a difference- there are some wounds that magic cannot heal, and it seems this may be one of them. I do have a special salve, crafted from rare and rather... dangerous ingredients, that may lessen the scaring...” His face remained grim however. “...but I'm quite sure that you will carry this mark for the rest of your life.” And he watched as her eyes filled with hatred then, a flame in them so intense that he could feel the very heat radiating off of her- and he knew that whoever had done this to her must have paid dearly. He saw her jaw muscles grate, but she kept her tone even.

“I suppose there's no hurt in trying.”

Lucien nodded curtly and turned away from her, striding purposefully from the room and around the corner to his storage area. Once out of sight of Adrienne, he breathed in a lung-bursting breath and ground his teeth, holding it a moment before letting himself exhale slowly- he could never let himself lose control like that again, he thought forcefully. Ever.

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What had just happened? I replayed the scene over and over in my mind's eye, recalling the heat from our bodies, the intensity in Lucien's eyes as he drew closer, the thumping of my racing heart- and then, finally, his abrupt withdrawal from the scene, shattering whatever spell had been cast over us. What did it mean? He couldn't possibly... no... could he? What had he been thinking? I wondered with a hint of frustration, my thoughts full of doubt and disbelief. What was I thinking?

I touched my cheek again, finding a fresh stream of blood following my jawline. After killing the one who had given me this cursed wound, Antoinetta Marie, I had almost immediately left the Sanctuary to come to Lucien's own sanctum- I wished to put the Purification behind myself as quickly as I could, to allow myself to move forward with the smallest amount of grief and mourning possible. As I had exited the well and made my way to the city gate, I felt the eyes of a dark-haired man who was standing across the town square upon me- at first I was alarmed, but then I realized my cheek was still bleeding (despite the healing spell I had cast to assuage my wounds), and that was the reason his eyes had followed me.

My healing spell had worked on all of the other injuries, but my cheek had remained injured... my cheek... I raised my hand to it again, and as I touched the wound a memory flashed violently throughout my thoughts without warning- Antoinetta's face after slicing my skin, full of loathing and triumph- and I found myself almost physically staggered. How long would this go on? I wondered in anguish. How often would I be haunted with the memories of my most heinous, my most painful, act?

For as long as you let yourself, a voice in the corner of my mind spoke. It was dark and menacing, but also cool and comforting, and I felt my body starting to calm as it spoke again- It will effect you only for as long as you let it effect you- you are in control… I felt my mind clear, and I listened to that voice- it was so soft, so intelligent, so enigmatic… and I felt that everything would turn out for the good, if I just listened to the voice... My thoughts returned to my cheek, but no flash of Antoinetta came this time.

I was still pondering what Lucien had meant about injuries that could not be cured when he returned, a sealed container held delicately in his cupped hands. He came to a halt in front of me and opened it without a word, placing the clay top down on the table. Remaining silent, he dipped two fingers into the substance that lay within the bowl and raised them to my cheek, his eyes intent upon his task- and nothing else. I saw that there was no expression in his gaze, only that of a man at work upon something broken.

There was something different about him, something that I couldn't quite place- a change in the way he stood... it was much more rigid, and proper. His movements were very deliberate, as though he was careful about each and everything he did. And finally his eyes- they were empty, devoid of any emotion, so unlike just moments before. What was going on? I asked myself again.

“There you go,” he said, his hand leaving my cheek. He wiped his fingers on the side of the bowl, letting excess salve drip back into the rest before putting the top back on. “This is probably the most helpful thing one could do to prevent scarring- at least for a wound of this nature.”

“Thank you,” I said, looking him straight in the eye- he nodded, yet his eyes did not meet mine. Instead, they seemed to be directed at a point just above my hairline. Before I could say anything, however, he spoke first.

“Would you like a glass of wine?” he asked, gesturing towards the table where a few bottles lay. I had a flash of Gogron, holding up a bottle of ale and grinning ruefully as he suggested a drinking game- but no! I couldn't think of that... I couldn't put myself through that...

Lucien was watching my reaction curiously, so I simply shook my head in declination, turning my attention back to him. He did not pour himself a glass either, instead beginning to speak again, his voice confident and clear- as though reciting a rehearsed speech.

“Sithis has been appeased, and the time has come to acknowledge and reward your unwavering loyalty. The Black Hand is most pleased with your progress. You have been invited to share in secrets that few within the Dark Brotherhood even know exist. Your life in the Sanctuary is over- those contracts are behind you.”

I looked at him, confusion in my eyes- what other life was there for the Dark Brotherhood? I had never heard of any work, besides that of couriers, and the Speakers and Listener – that took place outside of a Sanctuary's walls. He seemed to ignore my gaze and continued on.

“Now, you will serve the Black Hand. You will serve... me.” I felt my heart beat wildly in my chest, my breath short- I saw him swallow deeply and his jaw muscle tighten before he continued , his voice sounding a bit strained, as though he was finding it difficult to keep his tone devoid of any and all emotion.

“From this moment forward, you will walk the shadows as my Silencer. You will receive contracts only from me. Your new life has begun.”

He looked at me expectantly, fondly- as though watching a proud creation. For I was his- he was in possession of me, I was under his control; and we both felt it.

But all I could do for a moment was stare blankly back. What in the name of Chaos was I supposed to say to that? My mind was racing with questions, from why Lucien was acting so strangely, so distant, to what life outside the Sanctuary would be like. His constant switch of personalities, from an intense, passionate and desirable man to cold-hearted, emotionless Speaker- what did he want from me? And, more importantly, what did Iwant? I found it difficult to concentrate on his words; however, he seemed quite insistent that I be the one to speak next, so eventually I found it in me to pose a question.

“But... but what must I now do?”

“It is quite simple, really,” he replied, his tone businesslike. “No longer will you receive orders directly. Instead, you will visit dead drop locations scattered throughout Cyrodiil. Your next contract can be found at the dead drop on Hero Hill, southeast of here. A hollow in the moss-covered rock contains all you need to know.”

I wondered why we would not be speaking about the contract- why go through the trouble of writing out letters when it could easily be exchanged through conversation? I was about to ask this, but he continued to speak, his voice steely.

“When you leave here, we will not speak again, unless I deem it necessary.” His eyes were cold, hard, and unwavering- and I looked at them in dismay. Never to speak again? We were not to see each other, unless he deemed it 'necessary'? What the blazes did that mean? He was all I had left! As I felt my eyes widen with despair, I thought once again of our earlier encounter- was that why he was pushing me away? What was he playing at?

“I will do whatever you ask of me,” I said, my voice hollow, raising my eyes to his.

As soon as our eyes met I could see within them a conflict arising, and he drew his gaze from mine after an instant of contact. He started to seem unsure, anxious even, about my reaction- and I saw that he was on the verge of saying something, teetering on the edge of oration. A moment passed, and suddenly he burst into speech, his words released in a rush- the light was back in his eyes.

“There is one last thing- I have for you a very special gift… Just outside there is a magnificent steed named Shadowmere; she has served me well, but I present her now to you, as a token of my trust and-” our eyes met, a shock like lightening- “...love.”. I felt a shock wave run down my spine and low into my stomach at his words. Love? His eyes were intense, a fire that was not of anger burning within them, and I felt a similar flame ignite within my own.

But then Lucien drew back, stepping towards the table to pour himself a glass of wine. I lowered my eyes and pursed my lips slightly as I saw him raise the goblet to his lips, taking a sip of the liquor. Calmed by his words- words that had restored my faith in his confidence and... love for me- I was silent for a moment, trying to collect my thoughts, for it was obvious that he wanted to return to business again.

“Your silencer?” I finally asked, sighing. He paused, the glass halfway to his lips, and placed it back down on the table before beginning.

“The Black Hand is the Dark Brotherhood's ruling council. That hand consists of four Speakers and one Listener. Four fingers and a thumb, as it were,” he said, raising his left hand and spreading his gloved fingers, while I nodded.

“This you already know. What is not commonly known among our family members is that the Black Hand employs a few... additional numbers.” I raised an eyebrow at his slightly roguish expression.

“As every hand has fingers, does not every finger have a nail? A claw? A talon?” His voice was deep and eloquent as he lifted his right forefinger and slid it across the tips of his fingers on his raised left hand, slowly and deliberately pressing the fingernails that lay beneath the glove, his hands steady and perfectly controlled. I watched with transfixed eyes as he then started walk away from the table towards my left side, as though circling me, his eyes never leaving my face as he spoke.

“Every finger of the hand, every Speaker, has such a nail. These are the Silencers. Each Speaker employs his or her own private assassin, to extend their reach and strike forth as necessary. My previous Silencer perished while fulfilling a contract…” I had not moved a muscle as he had circled me, my eyes focused on the table in front of me. Lucien paused at my right side, and I could feel his body heat close behind me. My breath caught up in my chest as he leaned in closer, his lips very close to my ear, his hot breath upon the nape of my neck-

“…that emptiness has now been filled by you. It is an honor without equal,” he finished in almost a whisper, his voice husky. I felt a shiver down my spine, my body warming as shots of fire filled my soul; I felt my eyes shine with pride, love swelling up within my very heart. The hairs on the back of my neck stood straight as I could feel him smile. I bit my lip, a thrill rising up in my stomach; but then he pulled away, coming to stand in front of me again. There was a mischievous glint in his eye, and I could see that the enigmatic man I was accustomed to had returned, at least for now.

“Now go, and may Sithis guide you in this new stage of your life's dark journey,” he said, holding his hand out and gesturing towards the rope ladder. I looked him in the eye, holding his gaze for just a moment, before I finally willed my muscles to move again. The air felt thick and I found it difficult to draw myself from his presence- I saw his lips twitch at the corners at my expression as I turned and climbed up the ladder, and I felt his eyes hot upon my back until I had exited the trapdoor and was out of sight.

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Only after he had heard the dull metallic thud of the trap door shutting did Lucien let out the breath he had been holding- and not until he felt as though his lungs were empty of any and all breath did he inhale again. He closed his eyes as he did so, his eyebrows furrowed- but then his expression relaxed and his features softened, and a faint smile appeared. His licked his lips, thinking hard.

He had nearly lost control in the beginning, he knew- he had been very close, so close that he could not remember a recent instance like it. He had been irrational for a moment there- giving her Shadowmere?- but he knew that in the end he had been in full command of the situation. He had felt her longing in those final moments, he had sensed her desire- and it had pleased him in that he had created it, and also in that he could control his own passions.

For he could no longer deny the heat he felt when in her presence, the shivers that ran down his spine when their eyes met- and he could not deny what he had nearly let happen. He had felt the fire in his eyes, and had seen that same flame in hers. But he had almost let it consume him, let his desires control him past all thought and reason.

But what was wrong with it? He found himself asking. What was wrong with her? Nothing! Nothing was wrong with her… it was him. He could not let himself do this, it was wrong. She was his inferior, his Silencer… she was his…but for the very same reason, it wouldn’t be right. He could not let himself have anything more then a very cordial relationship with her. Or with anyone a snide voice in the back of his mind said. Which is what he had always intended for himself, it was what he liked! he thought forcefully.

But even in the dim light it was clear that his smile had faded.

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Only after the trapdoor had closed shut behind me and I had cleared the hollow tree did I take a deep, shuddering breath, a shiver running down my spine. That had been… interesting, to say the least. I remembered the feeling as his body moved in nearer to mine- I could almost still feel him so close to me, the heat from his breath upon my bare neck. I smiled as another shiver ran down my spine- but my smile fell as I remembered his withdrawal, the way he had pulled back, closing himself off. It had confused me, for I knew what I had seen in his eyes, in his body, in those moments… I wondered what he was thinking, if his thoughts were going to the same places that mine were…

As I made my way into the clearing outside the front entrance to Fort Farragut, my fantasies were pulled to a standstill as I lay my eyes upon the gift from Lucien. The most beautiful horse I had ever seen was standing majestically at the door, unbound by any rope but standing still, tall and proud- and almost… haughty, so like Lucien himself that I almost chuckled.

The mare was certainly larger and stronger then any other horse I had seen, and far more handsome. Her coat was the darkest black, the impeccable fur shimmering slightly in the fading sunlight. Her legs were strong and sturdy, and her back defined and lean. One could see that she would be able to carry a heavy load far and fast without growing weary with just one glance. Yet the most distinctive thing about this horse, this Shadowmere, was her eyes- for they were a glowing blood red, bright and intense. I walked closer, and as I held eye contact with the horse I got the clear impression that the mare understood me, that she comprehended far more then a horse should…

But I had not long to ponder this rather disconcerting notion- for suddenly I heard the distinct sound of approaching footsteps. Human footsteps. In an instant I was behind a pillar, my hand upon the ever-present dagger at my waist. I stared down the pathway leading out of the Fort, westward to Cheydinhal- there was definitely someone approaching, but I could tell that they were trying to remain stealthy by the way their steps sounded- light and calculated, slower and uneven. My mind instantly came up with a thousand theories on why someone could be sneaking up to the Fort- but the first one, the most prominent, was that they were here to assassinate Lucien Lachance; who was, after all, quite an infamous murderer. And I certainly wasn’t about to let that happen.

Staying close to the walls, I slid with my back against the stone to the entrance, listening carefully. Not wanting to risk sticking my head around the corner, which would be very exposed and rather stupid, I looked upwards- the next level of the fort looked stable, if a bit collapsed- but without further thought I leaped up softly and grabbed the ledge, my arms straining to lift my body up. I pulled my dark hood over my hair and crouched down below the low collapsed wall, peering over with sharp eyes. I spotted who I was looking for within seconds- a short man (presumably Bosmer), with auburn hair and dark eyes and dressed in leather greaves and a hunter’s shirt, was approaching. There was a lethal looking dagger at his waist and an expensive quiver and bow upon his back. Just by the way he moved one could tell that he was certainly assassin material… and the manner in which his eyes darted around, always aware and ready to react to any small movement, only confirmed my suspicions.

He had not noticed my presence, so I dropped back down under the cover of the wall and drew my dagger as the blood started to rush to my head. The man was close, about to walk under the archway into the Fort- I prepared myself, crouching lower, my eyes intent upon my target. As soon as I felt his presence directly beneath me I tensed my muscles- and an instant later I sprang, dropping down from above and landing on the man’s broad shoulders. The man let out a cry of surprise and anger as we tumbled to the ground. I felt him trying to fight back beneath me, his assassin reflexes at work- but I had my dagger at his throat before he could make a move, his short arms pinned under my leg and held down by my own other arm. Luckily for me, the man was even smaller then I was- for if it had been otherwise I doubt I would have been able to keep him under my control.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” I hissed, my eyes livid. I looked at him expectantly but he was silent, so I pressed the dagger menacingly against his throat and he winced in pain. “Answer me quickly or die!” I spat out.

“I was just… I’m just a hunter, please, don’t hurt me!” the Bosmer exclaimed, his voice cracking and eyes darting about in fear. I had no doubt that he was lying.

“A hunter, eh?” I said slowly, the cynicism clear in my voice. I looked closer at his apparel, and noticed a leather shoulder bag. “If you’re a hunter-” I said scornfully “-then I should find skins in here, no?” He watched with wide eyes as I carefully removed my hand from his arms and slid it into the bag. I felt the round rolls of parchment without surprise- they were most likely assassination orders.

But when I pulled them out triumphantly and rotated the cylinders for a look at the seal, I saw something that I had not expected- for the seal was that of the Dark Brotherhood. I stopped in mid-motion, staring at the dark wax in alarm and bewilderment.

The man sensed my moment of distraction and exploited the weakness, leaping upwards and shoving my body off of his. I fell off of him, dropping the parchment to the ground. Before I had time to react he had snatched my dagger from my grasp, swinging it threateningly towards me. He was quick- but also, in an odd way, clumsy. His hands shook and jerked almost spasmodically at any movement I made. He was still a slight threat, however, when he had the higher ground.

And so without thought and through pure instinct I rolled backwards, slipping my hand to my leg where my hidden throwing knife rested, while I avoided his attack. I was on my feet with my knife ready before the Bosmer could draw back; I struck forward and sliced, just a thin line of blood appearing against his right index finger. He cried out and I knocked the dagger from his grasp, catching it in my spare hand.

He started to back away but I raised my leg and kicked him square in the chest, sending him falling back into the stone wall. I pinned him there with my dagger against his throat once again, smiling slightly at the expression of indignation and fury upon his delicate features. I was still for a moment, breathing hard- but after a moment I had regained my composure, and I returned his look of hatred with one of cold irony. I leaned in close to his ear and spoke, my voice soft.

“We have the same Mother, you and I.”

His body instantly went still, his muscles rigid- I looked him in the eye, and I knew he could see the truth in them. I slowly pulled back my dagger upon his neck and held my hands up, showing I meant no harm. And as I leaned back my hood fell completely from my face and my hair blew back in the wind, and the Bosmer, looking deep into my eyes, seemed to come to a sudden realization.

“You- you’re Adrienne!” he sputtered. There was fear in his voice.

“How do you know this? Who are you?” I asked harshly, my surprise coming out as anger as I took a quick step forward. He fell back against the wall away from me, his body stiff.

“I’m- I’m Aengoth,” he replied hastily, stuttering a bit. “I’m a courier for- for the Dark Brotherhood.” I ground my teeth.

“Yes, I have gathered that much- but how do you know of me?” I asked again, the impatience evident in my voice.

“Ah… I work for Lucien Lachance most of the time- and… well… “ he trailed off, and averted his eyes from mine.

“Well, what? Spit it out!” I said, getting frustrated. He visibly started, breathing quickly.

“Yes, yes of course- well I share blood with… with Telaendril. We're c-cousins.”

I felt all my muscles freeze up, a dull sensation of detachment descending throughout my body. Telaendril… My vision blurred until I no longer saw the scene before me, for I was somewhere else very different- behind a stone wall, the air thick with rain, an arrow ready to let fly…

It will only effect you as long as you let it!

I shook my head, focusing on Aengoth once again. He had pushed forward from the stone a bit, watching me with perplexity and wariness. I stepped back, my eyes cold.

“Telaendril?” I repeated, slightly questioning. “Then you know…” I trailed off, but he only lowered his eyes and nodded. Ah- well that explained why he feared me so.

And I lowered my eyes as well, working on pushing my thoughts far from the Purification. I looked at Aengoth again, at his guise as a hunter… when I was suddenly struck by something- didn’t couriers of the Dark Brotherhood wear dark robes and hoods, like the Speakers? But then I was confused- where had I heard that before? I thought back to conversations in the Sanctuary, at passing words with Teinaava, Vicente, Telaendril… but I could not place where I had gotten that notion of courier uniforms; until I looked at the scroll of parchment still upon the ground. It all snapped into place then as a memory of Ocheeva, handing me a roll of parchment with a heading of...

The Black Horse Courier! The issue after I had killed Adamus Phillida, that detailed my near-capture. It had spoken of a man rescuing me at the last moment, a man hooded and cloaked in the darkest black- and according to Teinaava and Ocheeva, that man had been a Dark Brotherhood courier.

“If you are a courier, why do you not wear a cloak or hood?” I asked Aengoth suspiciously, eyeing his dusty garb. He looked at me quizzically.

“Why would I dress like that?” his tone a bit indignant. “Couriers are supposed to travel freely, to blend in with the crowd- it wouldn’t be sensible to run around in a black cloak if that’s what you’re aiming for.” He spoke with more confidence- he seemed more comfortable with my presence now that he realized I wasn’t going to slice his throat where he stood.

“You mean… there are no couriers that dress way?” I said, my voice hesitant. He nodded slowly before speaking.

“I am sure they would never- most of us are respected members of society, and we wouldn’t want to tarnish that useful reputation with such dubious outfitting. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if only the Speakers still dressed that way, and even of those only a few.”

Just Speakers? My mind replayed that line over and over. Just the Speakers…Lucien was a Speaker. Could that mean…? I recalled Teinaava’s and Ocheeva’s odd behavior when they told me of a courier who had saved me, how I had felt that they were not being truthful… could they have known? What did this mean? How-

“Could… could I go now?” My thoughts were interrupted and I looked at the wood elf, who was inching towards his fallen scrolls of parchment and leather shoulder bag. “I am in a bit of a hurry…” he added, as he leaned down to pick up his bag- though his eyes never left me.

“Yes, yes- go ahead,” I replied, waving my hand indifferently as he nodded and made his way hastily to the entrance to Fort Farragut.

I walked slowly towards Shadowmere, my mind racing. It had to have been Lucien, he must have been there, seen my fall, and been the one to save me. But why? Could it be true? Things that I had dismissed as preposterous not so long ago were suddenly flooding back into my thoughts; and this time I let them stay there, churning in the unstable waters that was my mind. And as I pulled myself up onto the high back of Shadowmere, I remembered his mesmerizing stare as I left, and his words “…we will not speak again, unless I deem it necessary…”- and I had a feeling that that meeting would be sooner then I had imagined.

But for now, Lucien had given me a task. Taking one last glance at my map, locating “Hero Hill” and memorizing a route, I nudged the mare forward with a click of my tongue. I had work to do.

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The moon was high in the sky and the air thick with night when Lucien stepped into the Cheydinhal city border. Tonight would be a long night for him, he knew- for when he had told Adrienne that the Ritual of Descent would be “taken care of”, he had not been merely comforting her. The Ritual would be performed, and by no other then himself. He could have, of course, ordered it done by his inferiors; but he had to pay his last respects to the members of the Sanctuary, to those he had known for many years. They deserved it- well, at least most of them did, he added as an afterthought.

Lucien Lachance made his way easily to the well behind the Abandoned House, sending a last furtive glance at his surroundings before slipping into the grate, noticed by none. About halfway down the ladder, he suddenly became aware that the rungs were not only moist with well condensation- he pulled a hand away and found the scarlet hue of blood still upon his fingers. Someone had climbed up with blood on their hands, and recently, he deduced.

He dropped down the remaining way, landing on the slick floor with practiced ease. He turned about and was met with a gory sight indeed. Lucien swallowed hard as he walked to the center of the room, looking at the bodies of Teinaava and Ocheeva. They lay together, hands almost clasped they were so close, their blood pooled together in one dark puddle of crimson. They had died together…

And suddenly Lucien eyes saw not their bodies, not their blood, not the Sanctuary walls- and he was somewhere else, somewhere from far and long ago…

Lucien strode down the dark hallway purposefully, his dark eyes flickering in the candlelight. The place was old and rotting, and smelled of dead fish- but at least he was inside now, and not outside in the blasted swamps. Damn the Black Hand! He thought furiously. Damn them for choosing him for this assignment!

He was still very new to the guild, and had been thoroughly surprised when he had been selected for this. Despite his young age, they had told him his selection had been based off of his charm, and manipulative powers. He was asked to train a quartet of Shadowscales in the continent of Argonia, and then to bring over the pair that showed the most promise to the teachings of the Dark Brotherhood. But his experience in “Black Marsh” had not been favorable so far, and he already found himself detesting the massive swamp land.

He continued on, his mood growing sourer by the minute. Of course it’s the last door, he thought darkly as the floor beneath him dissolved into poorly kept dirt. He slid his finger tenderly along the blade of the small throwing knife concealed in his opposite sleeve, stopping the pressure just before he felt it break skin.

As he drew close to the final door he slowed, stepping more silently and cautiously. He could see candlelight flickering inside, and with a half view through its entrance he could make out the indistinct shadows of several figures. If his information had been correct, there would be four of them. Four Argonians. Lucien was creeping starting to move towards the door again he could overheard voices resonating from within.

“So what’s the name of this guy again?” A male voice, raspy and slightly disdainful.

“His name is Lucien Lachance, and I‘ve told you that at least a dozen times,” a female voice responded chidingly.

“I just can’t seem to remember such a bland, typical Imperial name,” the same male voice replied, and three sets of chuckles broke out. “I mean c’mon, what’s the Court playing at, giving us an Imperial instructor?” the voice continued, elated with the encouragement of laughter.

“It’s a well-known fact that all Imperial men are fat, spineless sweet-talkers who couldn’t sneak up on a drunken orc!” As Lucien started to fume, two voices started laughing uproariously, but the female who spoke before rang above their rancor.

“Says Teinaava, the one who awoke the infamous snorer, Master Three-Claw, when you tried to snatch ale from his secret stash! You’re more clumsy then a drunken orc!”

The laughter continued as Lucien felt his blood starting to simmer- he had half a mind to barge in and ruin their little party, but he felt he could have a bit more fun with it…

He slipped a ring from his inner pocket, fitting his finger into it with the air of repetition. Had someone been watching Lucien at that moment, they certainly wouldn’t be anymore- for he had vanished completely. Smirking slightly to himself, he started to make his way slowly to the door, silent as the twilight…

“…I am most certainly not clumsy!” It seemed that Teinaava was standing in the center of the room, a candle to each of his sides acting almost like a spotlight as he spoke. There were four armchairs surrounding him, three of which were filled- two females and a male in the seats.

“I’m quicker than a mountain lion!” Teinaava exclaimed, poking at the female closest to him and drawing away quickly.

“Brother, I’m warning you…” the Argonian started to rise from her chair, her face amused but determined- Teinaava started to scamper away, and took a step back… into Lucien, whose dagger was around the Argonian’s throat before he could move a muscle.

He stepped forward, pushing the stunned Argonian with him into the light. The others had frozen, taken completely by surprise, and were watching with wide eyes. The girl who had started to rise was frozen half-way between her chair and standing, and seemed unsure of which way to go.

Lucien reveled in the panic and disarray he had caused for a instant before he leaned forward slightly, speaking softly but distinctly into the Argonian’s ear. “Couldn’t sneak up on a drunken orc, eh?” He slid his knife back into its hidden sheath and pushed the Argonian forward in one smooth motion. “So what does that make you?”

Another moment of shocked silence followed, in which Teinaava turned about wildly to look at his attacker. His expression was indignant and flabbergasted, and Lucien felt his own features twisting slightly into a self-satisfied smirk. The spell of silence was broken when the female Argonian rose completely from her chair, a grin breaking on her face.

“So you must be Lucien, then?” she said amiably, offering a hand. “I’m Ocheeva, sister to that idiot over there,” she gestured to Teinaava. “And nicely done, he needed that,” she said, laughter in her eyes as Lucien returned the handshake.

“I’m Scartail, and by blessings of the Nine I’ve got no relation to those two,” came forward the other male, a smile also upon his face. Lucien shook his hand as well, and turned back to find Teinaava standing very close to him. The Argonian stuck his hand out, eyes stubborn.

As soon as Lucien’s touched him, the Argonian twisted his own hand and tried to whip Lucien’s arm around and therefore diabilitate him- but the Imperial had been expecting this, and he retaliated with his superior strength and spun the outraged Shadowscale back around so his back was against Lucien, who had drawn his knife and put it against his scaled throat once more.

“Quick as a mountain lion, eh Teinaava?” Lucien asked, while the others roared with laughter. He released the Argonian, who rubbed his neck with a pained look.

“That hurt!” he exclaimed.

“Oh, stop your whimpering,” the second girl scolded, tapping him roughly on the head before coming forward into the circle. “I’m Mee-sai,” she said, offering her hand delicately as the others continued to chuckle at the scandalized expression on Teinaava’s face...

…The laughter was still ringing throughout Lucien’s mind as he drew his thoughts away from the scene. That had been so long ago… his first meeting with the twins. They had been like family to him, even more so then the Brotherhood relationship had provided them with. But things had changed, and now they were what they were…

And he thought of the final Argonian, Mee-Sai. She had gone on to become a ruthless assassin for the Argonian Royal Court, along with her lover, Scar Tail. Last year, however, Lucien had received word of her death. Apparently she had assassinated a duke’s daughter in Skyrim, and the enraged father had hunted her down and kill her with his bare hands. The effect on Scar Tail had been disastrous- he had always questioned the art of assassination the most, and this event had been the grain of rice to tip the scale. He had fled from the Court, forsaking his duty, and became an outlaw on the run. His fate had been left the hand of Adrienne, Lucien knew…

Thinking of her drew his mind back to his current task, and his shook his head slightly. He had no time to let his thoughts wander. Tearing his gaze from the twins, he started to investigate the rest of the room. As he looked to his left he noticed something he hadn’t seen before.

Laying in the corner across from the well was a black heap- a body with a bloody stump. He moved closer, instantly intrigued, and quickly found the head. A blonde woman, the remnants of an eye still dripping down the face of the late Antoinetta Marie. Lucien now no longer had any question as to who had sliced Adrienne’s face. He moved closer towards the puddle of blood her body had created, and was surprised when he saw something else in its scarlet waves.

Footprints, two sets- one smaller, more feminine, but the other was distinctly male. He remembered the blood on the ladder, and how he had been sure that Adrienne wouldn‘t have been clumsy enough to leave it there… Lucien was curious, for he was getting the feeling that someone had been down here before him, and it wasn’t Adrienne. He thought for a moment, a realm of possibilities entering his thoughts- but then suddenly an answer occurred to him- Aengoth. The courier.

He had noticed that the courier had seemed more shook up then was normal, and his beloved cousin had been Telaendril… maybe he had come to view her body? To pay his last respects? He assumed the Bosmer could be daft enough to do so- he had known him before he’d been assigned the task of courier, and had not forgotten Aengoth’s rather clumsy nature. That would explain his mood, and the blood…

Lucien nudged Antoinetta’s head with his foot, rolling it back grotesquely toward the body with a slight smile upon his face. He could only imagine the fury Adrienne must have been in she had done this (and he could not blame her, for he‘d always found Antoinetta to be an incessant nag). He felt a shiver run down his spine and found himself half-wishing he had been there to witness it…

But he turned from Antoinetta's corpse then, stepping back into the center of the room. He looked around the empty, silent halls that had once been his home, and he felt a stab of sorrow for those who had died here, for Adrienne, and for himself. But then it was gone, and he was making his way to Vicente's room, where he was sure he would find the body of the vampire.

He had to move quickly if he wanted to finish by sunrise, Lucien reminded himself. He too had a lot of work to do.

Chapter 20: A Flair for the Dramatic

I did not realize that my gift from Lucien was no ordinary horse until about a week after I left Fort Farragut. Finding the lair of the Necormancer I'd been assigned to kill in my first Dead Drop had been much harder then anticipated, so the going had been slow and I hadn't let the horse really get into a free gallop until after disposing of the target. But when I finally let her loose on the road towards Chorral, to say that I fell from my seat in astonishment would be no exaggeration... but it certainly would be an embarrassment. Shadowmere ran faster than any other creature I had ever encountered, so much that I would not be surprised if she could outrun even the deadly mountain lion. But once I became acquainted with the drastic speed changes and playful but dangerous buckings and prancings, riding Shadowmere was a thrill rivaled by few.

And I was experiencing this thrill as the horse and I barelled down the Black Road towards Chorrol, the morning sun orange above the mountain peaks and the night fog creeping back into the dark recesses of the forest around us. We came up over the crest of a hill and I could feel myself becoming more intuitive with the horse as I merely thought of slowing and Shadowmere immediately responded, her gait dropping to a steady trot. I reined her into the fenced area, dismounting and giving her an affectionate pat on the heavily muscled stomach before turning and closing the gate behind me.

No one was about in the early morning, so I felt safe simply dropping down in the grass next to the corral and stretching out, loosening my stiff muscles. I had not slept in over a day, and it was starting to catch up with me. I was not fond of Chorrol, but I really needed the rest- so I decided to get my reward money and next set of orders, and then to procure a room at the inn and sleep until nightfall, when I would proceed to set out to wherever Lucien had sent me next.

My eyes turned to Shadowmere as I thought of Lucien, and his words as he had given her to me- a token of his trust... of his love. I smiled, watching Shadowmere as she walked up to another grazing black mare and sneered viciously at her, eyes gleaming red. The mare responded with a whinney of alarm, dancing away on fearful legs as Shadowmere gave a snort of triumph and leaned down to claim the newly vacated patch of grass as a prize.

I was thinking pleasant thoughts- of my contract, the blood I had recently spilt (and would, with luck, soon be spilling), my new horse, of Lucien- and was finding myself starting to drift off to sleep...

But suddenly a sound in the distance awoke me. A horse was approaching, and quickly. Relaxation over, I awoke reluctantly and stood up wearily, gazing out over the hill, A man with black hair astride a white horse was approaching quickly- when he saw me, however, he slowed to a near stop, eyes wide. I felt a sharp stab of a recognizition from him, and also in myself, but the man bowed his head and the flash was gone. I was a bit alarmed, but I tried to act natural as I made my way into the city gates, not daring to turn back in the fear that he had identified me. It was something I had to be more wary of in my growing infamy...

The strange incident was thrown from my mind completely, however, once I stepped into the city. Chorrol was a rich place, of that there was no doubt- for it was evident, from the buildings to the people, that everything and everyone was wealthy- and not afraid to show it. I despised the people who devoted their lives to earning as much money as possible, and then doing nothing useful with it except to show it off with the latest fashions and most expensive accessories. They based their worth in life off of materialistic, useless things, and it disgusted me.

Face set in a permanent scowl, I made my way to the town center where the Great Oak lay- for Lucien's last letter had said my next dead drop would be located in a small satchel by the tree. The city was starting to wake up, and when I arrived at the Oak the hustle and bustle of a new day was just beginning. Shopkeepers had opened their doors, the Guildhalls were experiencing traffic in and out, and street vendors and beggars were setting up their corners.

The area around the Great Oak was popular, for locals and for travelers, and so the area was clogged with people by the time I reached it. I could feel my scowl deepen and my eyes narrow even further as I neared the stone circle where the tree lay. I looked into the dirt and shrubberies surrounding it, searching for the sack that held my reward, and further word from Lucien. I circled the tree while trying to look as inconspicuous as possible, finally finding what I was searching for on the far side. I stopped dead, one eyebrow arched.

The sack was deep within the circle, right up against the base of the great tree. And that was quite far from the outer rim. To reach it I would probably have to put my entire body up on the stone and reach towards it- hardly a normal action, and certainly something that would draw attention to myself, and that was the last thing I needed- the Legion was very much still on the lookout for Adamus Phillida's killer. What had Lucien been thinking when he had put it there?

I glared at the sack again, grinding my teeth in irritation, and then turned about, hoping to find a time or angle at which no one would notice my recovery it- but it was in vain, for there was a constant tide of people, and directly across from where I stood there was a large manor, and at the door a constant guard stood posted.

He was a small man, a Breton by the looks of it- and he looked quite awkward in the heavy iron armor he was trying to sport. I knew he would not move from his post until nightfall most likely, and so I knew I would not be getting my new orders until then as well. The last thing I needed was someone involved in the law noticing odd behavior from a woman with black hair and icy blue eyes...

The guard seemed to have felt someone watching him, and his eyes found mine inquisitively- I put all the frustration and hatred I had in me at that moment into my returning stare, and his eyes widened slightly before he dropped his gaze and shifted uncomfortably, trying to ignore my murderous glare. Giving a snort of derision at his weakness, I too looked away, turning this time to glower at the little satchel- it was so close, yet so far from my grasp...

And with infinite frustration, I put my back to the Great Oak and walked down the cobbled street, kicking loose stones with destructive pleasure as I made my way to the Oak and Crossier Inn.

* * *

I slept soundly after grudgingly paying for my (obscenely expensive) room, my dreams filled with the symphany of frantic pleas for mercy and tortured screams, of the strike of a dagger and the spilling of blood; the beautiful and unparalleled notes of the orchestration of death. When these pleasurable notes had fully echoed out of my mind, and the comparably dull sounds of waking life had completely returned, I found that the view from my window was dark and the streets were empty. I threw open the shutters fully to behold the quiet city, taking in a deep breath of the crisp night air.

I would kill tonight. I could smell the scent of blood in the air already, my nostrils flaring with pleasure at the thought. I smiled, closing my eyes and fully soaking in the pre-kill anticipation for a moment before slowly closing the shutters and stepping back from the window. It was time.

I changed into a flax tunic and slipped into my tight black pants, pulling on my leather boots. In a matter of moments I had packed my saddlebags, tying the unique and complex knots that kept them securely closed with speed and precision. I made my way out of the inn and up the cobbled street without encountering a soul- everyone had found a bed and was sleeping soundly, it seemed. It was perfect. The silence, the stillness, the dark- my elation was only growing as I drew closer to the Great Oak.

When I came up the hill and walked into the circle, the difference from my last visit was instantly noticeable- and appreciated. The area was quiet and desesrted, the only sound a soft breeze rustling the expansive branches of the Great Oak. However, I did not waste anymore time feeling grateful for the welcome change for I was far too eager to read my next letter from Lucien. I jumped lightly up onto the circle surrounding the tree and bent down, scooping the heavy satchel into a cradling hand. I smiled at the soft sound of clinking gold it made, weighing the hefty bag in my palm. It took all my self control not to open it on the spot, but I realized that it would make more sense to get out of the city first.

And so I made my way out of the citygates and to the horse corral, brimming with anticipation. My thoughts were entirely focused on the cloth sack in my hand, and the letter I knew lay within. The gold was inconsequential. I stopped underneath the lantern at the horsekeepers cottage and leaned against the wall, sliding my back down against it until I was comfortably seated beneath the soft glow of flickering light. Shadowmere, who had been lounging at the far end of the corral, stood up and trotted over towards my spot. A white horse that had been grazing near me pranced away in fear as Shadowmere approached, and the black mare snorted almost derisively. As she drew in close she leaned over the edge of the fence and nudged my face with hers, whinnying softly. I patted her affectionately before untying the cloth satchel, peering into its contents eagerly.

My reward was there (the customary 500 septims), along with a sealed letter. I carefully slipped it open, Lucien's familiar wax seal design remaining intact. I smiled slightly when I saw its considerable length, and began to read the elegant script with a breath of excitement.

My Dearest Silencer,
The Necromancer Celedaen is dead, and you are not. That is quite an accomplishment. But your work as my Silencer has just begun.
Your next assignment requires you to eliminate not just one target, but several- an entire family, in fact. These unlucky siblings are Matthias Draconis, Andreas Draconis, Sibylla Draconis and Caelia Draconis...

I paused a moment, looking up at Shadowmere's scarlet eyes with an expression of perplexion and slight alarm. Could it be? Draconis? My free hand shot to a pocket on my saddlebag, where I could feel the slight imprint of a folded up piece of parchment. I kept reading, my eyes widening at the next lines.

...Sound familiar? It should, my dear, it should- for they are the children of one Perennia Draconis, an old woman who in life resided on a small farm to the North, near Bruma. That farm's name was Applewatch- the cottage where we first met, as you may recall...

I looked away from the letter again, a dull throbbing echoing throughout my mind as my eyes looked at something far away... and long since past... My first meeting with Lucien. I had been so naiive, so young, so... well, maybe not quite innocent, I chided myself with a roguish grin- but far more innocent then I was now. Yet my smile quickly faded as I thought further back- I had not known pain, I had not known suffering, I had not known loss. So much had happened since that first meeting; Lucien had been my first acquaintance within the Brotherhood, and now he was my only one left. I had Shadowmere, and for that I was most grateful; but he was my only human companion. He was the only one I had left...

That thought echoed throughout my mind for a moment, and I suddenly felt numb. The only one. Lucien Lachance was my only acquaintance, the only person left with whom I even had conversation- and yet that was still all Dark Brotherhood related. He was such a dark figure, so cold; I remembered the fear I felt when I first met him. But, at the same time, how eager I had been to please him, to earn his respect and love. And I was still this way, I realized. I had devoted my life to the Brotherhood, and had given it everything- and everyone, it now seemed- that I had ever loved. Just as Scartail had predicted... but he was wrong. I still had the Black Hand. I still had the Night Mother and the Dread Father Sithis. I still had Shadowmere... and I still had Lucien.

With a slight shake of the head to clear my thoughts, I looked back at the letter. I had to understand why he was asking me to kill the family of my virgin murder, and what I must do to perform my duty with all the honor and precision possible...

Now you may be wondering why you have been asked to do this, because of your connection in the past. The reasoning is thus: the name Caelia Draconis may or may not be familiar to you, but it has become far too familiar to the Brotherhood. Since the rise of Adamus Phillida this woman's efforts to bring about the downfall of the Dark Brotherhood, the Thieves Guild, and other less substantial organizations of the same nature have been a significant cause of worry. She is quite well connected, and uses her powers of manipulation and coercion to easily obtain any information she may require. There is talk of her gaining a new and powerful position within the Legion; one that is specifically designed to root out nefarious groups and cults. It has also been rumored of a romantic connection between herself and Imperial Legion commander Giovanni Civello, the newly appointed replacement to Phillida.

And so this brings us back to your assignment- once again, we intend on sending a message of defiance and resilience to these Imperialist pigs. And this message, as is our way, will be in the form of murder. Kill each of Caelia's siblings, inform her of her great and profound loss, and then take her life as well. The locations of most of the family members are unknown at this time to the Brotherhood, but I'm quite certain that this will not be an issue for you...

My eyes widened at these words- he couldn't know, could he? My hand once again shot to the imprint on my saddlebag, this time slipping inside and pulling out the worn piece of parchment. I didn't open it, but rather stroked its faded side softly. How could Lucien know about this? I had carried it with me ever since that day where I had killed the old woman, but there was certainly not a time when Lucien could have seen it- I went over every interaction with him that I could recall, and was thoroughly confused- until suddenly everything made sense. He must have seen it during an interaction that I could not recall...

I now knew without a doubt that Lucien had been the one to whisk me out from under the law's nose during the Adamus Phillida contract. He had most likely saved my life; but why did he wish to keep it a secret? And what had he been doing there in the first place? How had he known to ready to help me? Had he been... watching me? I thought of his sudden change of attitude during our last meeting, and I wondered what it could possibly mean- for it certainly couldn't be where my thoughts first strayed...

Shaking my head once again, for I was thinking ridiculous thoughts, I turned back to the letter.

This act will make it clear to any who questioned our strength that we will not put up with their pathetic, meddlesome schemes any longer, and that we have the power to harm them greatly if necessary. We will eliminate an immediate threat and, in doing so, splash the ripples of uncertainty and pain into the waters of the law. Think of it as our belated coronation gift to the newly instated Giovanni Civello...

Once you have completed this task for me, for I have doubt that you will do so with honor and elegance, journey to the city of Skingrad. In the castle courtyard you will find a well, and inside of it a satchel containing your reward- but this time it shall not be in the customary form of gold. Instead it shall be a letter; and this letter will contain instructions leading to a certain location at a certain time, for I have deemed it necessary that we cross paths once again. We shall speak of your next contract, and any other matters that you may desire to discuss.

I am sure that you will complete this task for me with precision and poise, as is your way; and that you will not waste precious time before doing so, for I do look forward to our next meeting...

Walk always in the shadow of Sithis, guided by the tender hand of our loving Night Mother,

Lucien Lachance

I read the letter through a second time before the hand gripping it fell to my side, my body otherwise very still. There was so much to take in at once, I thought numbly. Lucien had indeed saved me from Phillida, and didn't want me to know about it. I would be killing the entire surviving family of my first kill, and I would be the one to deliver an important message of fear to the Imperial Legion- Lucien had chosen me for a most honorable contract once again.

And this last bit... a meeting? Just over a week ago he had been going on about how we would not meet unless it was “necessary”- but now this? What could make it “necessary” that we speak face to face? Was it something important involving the Brotherhood? Or... was it something else? Something very, very different...

But no- I couldn't think about that. What if I was simply comletely crazy, and misinterpreting the entire situation? But you know what you felt at your last meeting, a voice in the back of my head said. And there's no use denying it- you know he felt it too. You could see it in his eyes...

“It doesn't matter!” I exclaimed to myself, hitting the ground in frustration. Shadowmere whinnied in alarm at my sudden outburst, shaking her head in worry. I stroked her neck, touching her forehead to mine with closed eyes. I breathed deep, made sure I was in control of myself, my body and my emotions- and leaned back, picking up the two pieces of parchment again. I had work to do- I could worry about what came later after it was done.

I firmly pushed all stray thought into a deep recess of my mind, and forced myself to focus on the task at hand. Even though I knew it's contents by heart, I found myself unfolding the second piece of parchment- the one I had kept for so long.

Dear courier,
I would like to thank you again for agreeing to assist me. I was so delighted when a friend recommended you, and will certainly employ your services again in the future if everything goes well with this round of purchases. You can imagine how difficult it is for an old woman such as myself to get around. My children, darlings that they are, deserve the best, and I'm afraid I haven't been able to properly show my love and appreciation for them in quite a few years. But all that is behind me now! Here is the list of gifts I think my family would most enjoy, as well each child's current place of residence, which should be used to for delivery.
Matthias -- Talos Plaza District, Imperial City (he has a home there): Matthias always was a rough and tumble lad. The last I'd heard, he'd fallen in with some pretty tough characters there in the Imperial City working the night-shift as a guard for an Ayleid ruin dealer. I'd feel so much better if I knew he was well protected, so I'd like for you to find him a nice cuirass. Nothing too light -- iron or steel should be fine. And, if possible, I'd like it engraved with "To my Dear Matty, I'll always be here to protect you, love Mum."

Andreas -- The Drunken Dragon Inn on the Yellow Road to Leyawiin(he owns the place and lives there as well): Andy has been brewing his own beer and spirits since he was six years old. The opening of that inn was the happiest day of his life. I'd like for you to get him some new tavern glasses. I'm sure there are craftsmen in the Imperial City who could make a fancy set from frosted ebony or Altmeri crystal.

Sibylla -- Muck Valley Cavern. Yes, my daughter lives in a cave, and no, I'm not very happy about it. Sibby has always loved animals (almost as much as Andy loves beer) and a couple of years ago she apparently thought it a good idea to abandon the Empire and live as a savage with the rest of the animals. In that time, I'm afraid Sibby has kind of... cracked. She's basically as wild as the beasts she lives with. What can I do? I'm Sibby's mother and I'll always love her. She obviously doesn't want or need anything from civilized society, so what I'd like you to do is find a tanner and secure the largest fur blankets you can possibly find. The last time I saw Sibby she was nearly naked, and I can't imagine there's much in that cave to keep her warm. When you do bring them to Muck Valley Cavern, be careful! The wild animals are bad enough, but Sibby herself will probably attack anyone on sight.

Caelia -- Castle Leyawiin (you'll find her in the barracks): My beautiful Cae! My dearest daughter broke so many hearts when she was younger. But now that she's an officer in the Imperial Legion I'm afraid she's let herself go a bit. Not gotten fat! By Mephala, not that! But she's settled into a more... practical kind of look. Even a bit boyish, I guess you could say. So what I'd like you to do is get my Cae as much pretty "girl" stuff as you can. Flowers, perfume, Nord chocolate, that sort of thing.

You've already received half your fee in advance, and will receive the remainder after the gifts have been purchased and delivered, as we originally agreed. Thank you again for providing such a valuable service.

Sincerely,
Perennia Draconis

I marked the locations of each sibling on my worn map, trying to figure out the most logical route to reach all of them in the least amount of time. I had a lot of travelling ahead of me, I discerned with a certain grimness- the four very different siblings were all spread out across Cyrodiil, and I could only hope that none of their living arrangments had changed in the months since their mother's death, and my finding of the letter.

I looked up at the night sky- the moons had already past their highest point in the sky, and were starting their descent. If I road quickly, I could make my way to the Imperial City and catch Mattias before he got off of work, in the Talos Plaza district. I rose quickly, gathering up my parchment and saddlebags with a distant air- my thoughts were far ahead, already planning and anticipating my kills. The thrill of the hunt, a wave of lustful foreboding, was starting to consume my body and my mind was completely focused on my one immediate goal- to kill.

And so I readied Shadowmere for travel and leapt gracefully onto her back, reining her out of the corral and onto the road in a hasty gallop.

* * *

I arrived at the Imperial City just long before I had reckoned on- not even the first shimmer of the dawn light was on the horizon, and as I dismounted Shadowmere and made my way to the city gates I could hear the echo of four grand bell tolls from within. I smiled- it was still the night. I had known I was going to kill this night...

I knew the Talos Plaza District well- I had spent a good amount of my late teens pickpocketing and making petty thefts within its rich walls. I was fairly certain that I could figure out which house belonged to Matthias- but, more importantly, I was already sure of where he worked. The list said he was a bodyguard for an Ayleid ruin collector, and the only one of note in this district was an Altmer by the name of Umbacano.

His collections were vast and prolific, and worth an uncalculable sum- and therefore guarded by only the best money could buy. I had never dared step near his home boundary, and I doubt many others (who were interested in self-preservation, at least) had either. As far as I knew, however, the human guards were all either outside his doors or within the first level of his house- rumors went that far greater and dark creatures guarded his secret stores. I was hoping to find Matthias there, and kill him at his work, for it would be far less suspicious if he died while guarding expensive merchandise then if he died in his own home.

I ducked into an alleyway as I sighted the soft light of a torch, which regularly indicated a guard was approaching, and took a short-cut up into the plaza. I waited a moment before I poked my head out, chancing someone spotting me in the lamplight overhead- but I was relieved to find that there was no one about on the south side, and the guard I had just seen was making his way into the Temple District. I looked to the North side and smiled darkly- a lone Imperial stood at the heavy doors, donning a heavy cuirass and official air. I couldn't be sure, not yet; but this could be my man. I leaned back into the alleyway for a second, pressing my head against the cold stone.

My first inclination had been, of course, to kill him now where he stood, with a lovingly aimed arrow to the skull. I worked hard to constrain that instinct, however, and forced myself think rationally. This could be any old guard- I had no idea if it was the man I was looking for or not. But what could I do to be sure it was him? I could wait for him to return to his home... but I really wasn't in the waiting mood, I realized. My patience was worn thin from holding too many strong emotions and desires in, and I need to act on them- and soon.

Suddenly, a plan occurred to me. With a raise of an eyebrow, I pushed off of the wall and poked my head out quickly once again. Nothing had changed- the man still stood there and not another soul was about. And so I rubbed my hands vigorously through my hair and pulled my tunic askew, dropped my quiver and bow into a dark corner of the alley, hid my dagger in my boots- and let out a shrill, piercing scream.

I let it echo for a second before I kicked the stone around a bit, shoving against the wall to make as much noise as possible. I then let out another scream and stumbled out into the light, pretending to fall over in my haste to escape the alley. I let out a sob and forced my eyes to water, scrambling to stand up again. I looked up and saw that Matthias had drawn his sword and was eyeing me with suspicion. I started to stagger towards, letting out hiccuping sobs.

“Please!” I said, my voice cracking and tears cascading from my eyes. “Please, good sir, help me! I'm so- so scared...” I was mere feet from him now, and the suspicion had almost completely let his eyes and he had lowered his sword. I took that oppurtunity to throw myself into his arms, shaking and shivering for good measure.

“Shh, shh, it's alright now, you're safe- tell me, what happened miss?” he asked, patting the back of my head with one hand while his other still grasped his sword. His eyes were scanning the darkness where I had come from, evidently trying to sense if there was still a threat.

“A man... he-he-he... attacked me!” I sobbed.

He pulled back from the embrace and gripped my shoulders, looking me in the eye.

“A man? What did he look like? Where did he go?” he asked urgently, his body tense. I gave a show of looking alarmed before shakily responding.

“I... I couldn't see his face! It was too dark, and it all happened too fast! But I don't know where he went- when I ran away into the Plaza he disappeared!”

Matthias seemed to instantly relax, his shoulders slacking and his face softening.

“Well, he's most likely gone by now...” he said softly, more to himself then me. He looked me in the eye. “Did he take anything from you, or hurt you in anyway?”

“No... he tried to-to hurt me, but I had a dagger beneath my skirt and I pushed him away with it. I don't think I did much harm... but it was enough for me to escape,” I invented wildly. Matthias nodded solemnly.

“Damn these petty thieves... they're getting bolder and bolder everyday... but you were very brave,” he said reassuringly, and I smiled gratefully through my watered eyes. I had found it easy to cry, and for some reason I was now finding it rather hard to stop...

“I think... I think he saw you, and got scared,” I said, my voice full of admiration. He puffed out his chest slightly at my words.

“Yes'm, well...” he responded sheepishly. Inwardly I rolled my eyes- most people were just so pathetic... I was starting to get impatient with this, so I decided to push things along. He was about to speak, but I cut in quickly.

“So what is the name of my savior?” I smiled broadly, looking up at him expectantly. He looked flustered for a moment, but replied gruffly.

“Matthias, m'am. Matthias Draconis.” A fire inside my soul ignited when I heard his words, and I felt my hand make an involuntary jerk towards my hidden dagger, but I concealed it by pretending to smooth out my skirt. I needed to wait to get him back to Umbacano's home...

“Well thank you, Matthias. I am in your debt- but... do you think you do something else for me?” I looked hopefully at him with wide eyes.

“It would be an honor,” he replied, looking a bit taken aback.

“Do you think- do you think that I could get a cup of tea? It always calms me down, and I'm quite shaken up...”

“I suppose that could done, my lady,” he responded slowly. After another moment of consideration his face brightened. “The master has some of the best teas and brews in Tamriel!” he continued, turning toward the manor and gesturing for me to follow. “I'm sure that he won't mind, considering the circumstances... but better yet, he won't even know!” he gave me a smile. “It will be our little secret!”

I gave a little giggle while inwardly I was vomiting. He was so disgusting, so predictable, so repulsive! All I wanted was to take his life, to extinguish the flame of his soul with one great breath... I wanted to kill...

It was close now, so close... all I could think of was the searing of skin, the flowing of blood at my fingertips... I had to wait until we got inside...

We were almost at the steps of the huge home when something in me broke. I'm not quite sure what happened, but all I know is that I completely lost control. I'd focused every emotion of confusion, of hatred, of despair, of loneliness- and I had put it towards my lust for the kill. And it suddenly overwhelmed me, so much so that I could feel a fire burn throughout my veins- so hot that it needed to be released immediately or it could sear through my skin. He was on the third step, reaching for the thick iron handle on the door when suddenly he stopped, his eyes wide.

Before I had been able to put the slightest effort to stop myself, my hand had once again gone for my dagger- but this time drawing it and striking upwards, embedding itself in the flesh of his lower back with a crunch. I yanked to the side, splitting further. I had severed a section of his spine.

His body crumpled as I pulled my dagger back out, blood flowing freely from the laceration it left. He was conscious still, and looked up at me with confused, betrayed eyes. I was breathing hard, my mind just beginning to catch up with my body's actions. But when I finally realized what I had done, that I had just killed... I looked from my bloody dagger to his pained face and I began to shake silently with a mirthful laughter, lifting my head up to the light and closing my eyes, soaking in the scene. It was so beautiful, the blood, the pain, the coming rush of death...

My laughter escalated as I opened my eyes again and I looked down at Matthias groaning pathetically at my feet. A wonderful idea had just occurred to me... it would be so dark, so perfect...

I kneeled down beside him, my face close to his.

“The Night Mother is expecting you...” I whispered lovingly. I leaned over, placing my quivering hands on the leather straps that held his heavy cuirass in place. The excitement was making my very body shiver with anticipation. I started to slowly unbuckle the straps, watching his eyes widen in alarm. But he could do nothing- he seemed paralyzed, he could not move a muscle. He could only watch.

I removed the shoulder restraints and lifted the heavy plate of iron up, pulling it off of his body and letting it slide noisily down the stairs. I gave him one final smile before I drew up my dagger, letting it glisten in the moonlight. My eyes glowing an icy blue, I slowly lowered my blade to his chest, just beside his faintly beating heart. With a great intake of breath and a surge of ecstacy I pressed down, pushing the weapon deep past his ribcage.

He gave a guttural shout of pain as blood spurted from his breast, membrane and tissue spilling down his chest. He wheezed, breath becoming impossible, his eyes dimming. I could feel the death swiftly approaching, I could smell it in the air... and with a soft sound, much like a candle being extinguished, Matthias Draconis's life was snuffed out.

“But she'll be taking you without your heart, I'm afraid...” I said softly
.
The thrill still remained draining from my veins as I drew my dagger out and pressed it in on the other side of his heart, this time sawing slightly in a circular shape through the arteries and veins. After a moment of careful manipulation I had removed the section of rib cage and pried his heart free from its chamber. I lifted it up in my hand, its warmth fascinating and wonderful. Our life was kept running by this mysterious organ; it never stopped pumping, not until the moment where we die. It just kept pressing on, no matter what we subjected it to...

Suddenly I heard something that made my blood run still. A sound, in the dark- far off, but approaching nonetheless. I listened harder, standing swiftly. Footsteps- someone was drawing nearer, and by the sounds of the heavy boots they wore, that someone was most likely a guard. I turned back the scene I had created and was abruptly aware of how rash I had been... there was blood everywhere, all over the ground, the body, the door- and all over my clothes. I had planned to wait until getting inside the house to strike; why couldn't I have waited just a few more seconds!

Adrenaline coarsing through my body, I picked up my dagger and shoved it back in its sheath. I quickly scanned the scene, making sure I had left nothing incriminating, before opening the flap of my incredients bag and shoved the slippery heart inside, not having the time for a more convenient or less messy way to store it. As I turned quickly and started to run silently into the night, however, I did not notice as a single, solitary blossom of nightshade fell from the outer pocket of my bag and landed softly in the pool of blood.

* * *

There was a lot more to Lucien Lachance then met the eye. On the surface there were the cunning eyes, strong jaw and well-defined nose; all of which indicated a clever and strong man. His athletic body was capable of wielding the silver longsword at his waist with precision, while nimble and steady fingers revealed the fine alchemist that he was. But beneath his black robes was where most of his power was hidden.

Inside of his right sleeve there was a hidden sheath with a thin, deadly sharp dagger that could be slipped out with a flick of his fingers. His left sleeve was the home to an array of little vials containing only the deadliest and most treacherous of poisons. He had lined the torso of his Black Hand robes with a thin sheen of the most well-crafted mithril there was. Each of his boots were home to several arrows, skillfully placed as to not impede with his movement or comfort. Lining the underside of his belt were two dozen darts, each tipped with a paralyzing poison rivaled by none. And so on.

Because the careful placement of all of these instruments of death was a precise and slightly dangerous endeavor, it took Lucien a considerable amount of time in the morning to prepare for the day. And this morning was no different. He had awoken to the great bells chiming merrily in the nearby Temple District, for he was unaccustomed to such sounds. It was rare that Lucien stayed in towns or cities- but sometimes bad conditions during travel warranted a stay in a comfortable inn for the night. And that was what had happened last night- after bringing the dead drop letter to Chorrol, Lucien had been making his way to Skingrad to wait when the notion to take care of some business in the Imperial City had occurred to him. A certain trader owed him a bit of money...

After the transaction had been completed, he realized it was too late to begin travel to Skingrad- and besides, he'd found himself feeling very tired. It had been a long day, and so he had gotten himself a nice room at the Tiber Septim and dined in luxury for the night. It had been odd- for it was the first time in quite awhile that he had not donned his Black Hand robes, instead opting for a disguise as a noblemen in the most fashionable garb (stolen from a certain trader, actually...)- but the food had been exquisite and the bed divine, so Lucien had awoken at the chime of five bells comfortable and well-rested.

However, the bells were tolling half past when he finally closed his room door silently behind him and slipped on a ring- which caused him to vanish completely from sight. He made his way down the stairs, his thoughts drifting aimlessly as he opened the front door silently. It was drizzling, the soft-falling rain barely making a sound as it fell upon the cobbled stone. His meandering thoughts were immediately interrupted, however, when he stepped out into the plaza. A swarm of guards were surrounding a doorstep, their shadows magnified across the stone by the streetlamp overhead.

Lucien instantly slowed his step, dodging alongside the wall- they wouldn't be able to see him, but that didn't mean his footsteps couldn't be heard. Several voices echoed the otherwise empty streets, but he could not discern what they were saying. With infinite care, he moved closer, his eyes intent upon the scene. As he drew near, he tried to peer between the guards and catch a sight of what they were surounding- but it was no use, for they were too closely knit a group. With a sigh the Speaker found his way to the stoop neighboring the manor and ducked down, listening hard.

“We've sent for him already...”

“There's nothing else in there, no bodies, and it seems nothing was stolen...”

“... but his heart is gone, I tell you! Cut clean out!”

“...spine's snapped as well...”

A murder? Lucien's ears perked up at this. A snapped spine and cut-out heart? And not for the intent of robbery, it seemed... he should most certainly seek out whoever had commited this beautiful act, for they seemed to be a very likely candidate for the Brotherhood; but for now he had business to attend to. He had risen from the stoop he'd been crouched at and was turning towards the alley when he heard something that made him stop dead in his tracks.

“...ones of Umbacano's dogs- by the name of 'Matthias Draconis'...”

It couldn't be... he swiveled back about, this time taking a closer look at the group. Matthias Draconis? There were four guards, all of whom were holding torches and expressions of barely concealed horror. Matthias Draconis? He had just dropped of the dead drop the previous morning! Could Adrienne have already... of course she could have! he almost exclaimed outloud. He had given her the fastest horse in Cyrodiil, for Sithis's sake! And she always was eager to please... it seemed she had taken his invitation for haste very seriously indeed...

Lucien nearly laughed in earnest at the irony of him running into this scene. She had made quick work of him, it seemed- and so she had taken his heart? Interesting, very interesting... he was very much looking forward to seeing how the rest of this rather complex contract turned out. He had been wondering how she would take the premise of killing the family of her first murder- it was a rather odd request- but as soon as the Black Hand had mentioned their trouble with locating the family members to him, he'd known that Adrienne had to be the one to do this contract; after he had seen that she carried the list around, of course. He had hinted in his letter that he knew she would be able to find them with ease, and had done so intentionally to make her marvel at the knowledge he and the Black Hand possessed. He rather enjoyed her reverence of him...

Suddenly a voice rang out, and Lucien was drawn from his thoughts.

“Commander Civello, sir!” exclaimed four voices.

Another man had arrived, this one donning an exquisite set of ivory armor and equipped with a fine ebony claymore. Lucien nearly snarled, glaring at the Imperial Legion lapdog with disgust. If all of these guards were not present, he would have most certainly taken the oppurtunity to stain that sparkling white armor with scarlet...

“Have you found anything that could aid with our investigation?” Civello asked, his tone hard. “Any sort of evidence or sightings?”

“There was nothing left at the scene, sir- except for this.” The guard who had been speaking handed Ciovello something, something small- Lucien looked on eagerly, trying to get a glimpse- but it was too small and he was too far away to identify the object.

“What is this?” Ciovello asked irritably. It seemed that even close up it was hard to recognize.

“That's a flower, sir.” One man replied timidly, while Lucien raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, I can see that! What type of flower is what I meant...” the other man cowered at the ferocity in Civello's voice.

“It's nightshade, sir. That there'd be a blossom of nightshade, without a doubt,” another soldier replied hurriedly.

And to that Lucien's lips upturned slightly in the corners, for that was his favorite flower; and it was the one that Adrienne always smelt of when one stood close enough to catch her scent. She had most certainly taken the task to heart, and was performing the assassinations with a sadistic beauty that evidently came naturally to her. It was rare to see such talent in creating the level of elegance Adrienne achieved in her kills- Lucien recalled a story he had heard about a certain old woman who had attended a party and ended up stuck to a door with a silver dagger in head- and her flair for the dramatic was quite clear. He was very much looking forward to seeing how she finished this contract... maybe they could discuss her technique in their meeting, once the contract was taken care of; they could speak of their mutual passion for the art of death...

After a moment he rose from his crouching position and pulled his hood further over his face, having heard enough, and started to retreat into the darkness. The rain was starting to increase as he made his way towards the city gates, the words of Ciovello echoing over his shoulder for a moment before they were lost in the sounds of the storm.

“Dispatch two riders after noontime today to inform Lady Caelia of the news...”

* * *