This is my first fanfiction. I was inspired by Nelkir's and Aventus' relationship in Silence, my Brother by sithmarauder- you should definitely read it! The Whispering Door quest in the game intrigues me and I wanted more from it- and I wanted to write Nelkir and Aventus all grown up. I'm not sure where this fic will end up yet, but I'm starting with Nelkir's backstory and initiation into the Dark Brotherhood. Rated M for gore, and future M/M slash. I do not own Skyrim or any of its characters/ideas.
Nelkir's cheek snapped on the cold stone ground and the door slammed shut behind him. A rattled breath drew from his lungs, swirling the dust motes by his face into the air. His ribs throbbed in pain and he could feel bruises blooming red and purple along his ribs. A key clicked in the door followed by the sound of his older brother Frothar laughing, footfalls growing distant as he ran up the stairs.
It was the 13th of Frostfall, Nelkir's eleventh nameday. And he was locked in a basement cellar with only his shame and thoughts of revenge to keep him company. Seeing how his father the Jarl hadn't said anything this morning, he doubted he would be looking for him. He hadn't expected the oaf to remember his nameday, but the thought of him forgetting still hurt. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes as his head swam with anger, the hatred he felt towards his family consuming him. "AURGH" he yelled suddenly, hitting himself in the forehead with clenched knuckles, beating his skull until white sparks exploded into his periphery. He kept the tears from flowing down his cheeks as he ceased, clamping his eyes shut and gripping his fingers into his face.
The heat of his fury bubbled fervently around him, but he knew he could concentrate it, sharpen it, like a sword. A minute passed and soon his breaths began to slow, his body shuddering as he tried to calm himself. He pushed himself up to sit with his legs crossed, willing himself to take several more deep breaths. Finally the ire left his limbs, concentrating at the forefront of his mind.
Nelkir's lips twitched upwards as he thought of how quickly he had overcome his little fit. He was getting better at controlling his emotions, far better than several years ago. His siblings were relentless with their taunting, painting him as weak and temperamental in the eyes of their father. Frothar's physical abuse was a fairly recent development however, his excuse being that he needed to practice with his fists since father wouldn't let him train with a sword. Nelkir panicked the first time it happened thinking his progress would be for naught. But it was affecting him less and less and sometimes he found the pain more clarifying, easier to focus his attentions on. Soon he would show no reaction to their abuse. He would live up to this image of a "dark child with soulless eyes" that Balgruuf thought he was. Nelkir would not let them see his pain anymore. Being soulless was something to aspire to.
He opened his eyes and was surprised to find them looking back at him on a cracked mirror, slate gray and blinking in the dark. He studied them behind the dust and cobwebs wondering again why they differed in color from his siblings and his father. Balgruuf's eyes were a bright blue, while Frothar and Dagny's eyes were dark brown. Although their mother had died long ago, Balgruuf had spoken of her having "warm chocolate eyes" before.
Nelkir knew the color of his eyes disturbed them. Dagny had once mused that he must have had his soul stolen by a daedra when he was a babe in his crib. "Why else would your eyes be so devoid of color, not brown or blue like mother or father?" she sneered. "Maybe that's why you're so weak and pathetic." Frothar used it as an excuse to alienate him, often telling him to stop looking at him with his creepy eyes. Balgruuf avoided looking at them altogether.
As he gazed into the mirror his ears picked up a strange noise, like the sigh of a curtain as you walked past. He stood up thinking someone had come down to get him from the cellar when he noticed the door behind the mirror. Darkness had obscured it from his vision before and curiosity drew him in. He was surprised he had never seen this door as he knew almost every nook and cranny in Dragonsreach- he needed hiding places from his siblings. Then he heard it. Whispering.
He walked up to the door trying to push it open, muttering under his breath when he realized it was locked. He bent down and put his ear to the keyhole, listening for that whispering sound. He strained, pressing his body against the door, sure that he could hear something from within. Then he heard it speaking. Speaking to him.
"My child, Nelkir son of Balgruuf, I have been waiting for you."
Nelkir jerked his head away from the keyhole. The melodic words though strained and distant, rang with clarity in his ear. It sounded inhuman, ghostlike.
"Who are you? How do you know who I am?" Nelkir responded softly, his heart beating erratically in his throat.
"I know much that goes on between these walls. Few hear my whispers anymore, but I still listen... watch... wait... I know that you are filled with hatred and crave the release of sweet vengeance on those that call themselves your family. I am the Lady of Whispers, I am... your friend."
Nelkir was not a stupid child. He knew that this was no human speaking to him through the door, no it was something else. He racked his mind thinking of what... by the gods, what if a Daedra was speaking to him? His mind raced at the thought of such a being at Dragonsreach, watching over them, over him. He had heard stories of them manipulating mortals to wreak havoc and mayhem across Nirn. He thought of the Daedric Princes he knew- Boethiah of plots, Nocturnal of darkness, Sanguine of debauchery. Would he willingly consort with such beings?
He set his lips in a firm line. Of course he would. What better way to gain revenge on his family, his pig of a father, than with help from the plane of Oblivion itself. The son of a noble with ties to Daedra. Dark child indeed.
"M-my Lady," he stuttered through the keyhole. He cleared his throat. "What do you need of me?"
The musical voice tinkled with laughter through the keyhole.
"Such a willing accomplice. The mortals within this castle are so... weak. But I see a spark in you child, I can feel your delicious fury. The whole of Dragonsreach is ripe with paranoia and tensions. Those that torment you have every right to fear you, suffusing your world with such deceit and fabrication. But not for long. Suss out the whispered secrets within these castle walls, unearth the artifice and deception of those that call you son, brother. Listen to my whispers and paint your sweet revenge."
The buzzing murmur behind the door dissipated and Nelkir no longer felt the presence of the lady behind the door. But it was no matter, because for once in his life, Nelkir was not alone.