Summary: The story of Mathieu Bellamont, traitor and vengeful member of the Dark Brotherhood.

Rating: T, for strong language and violence.

Author Notes: You can find so many Lucien Lachance fics on , but I found maybe three unfinished Bellamont stories. I figured I'd be taking a fresh new approach by writing a Bellamont story that hopefully has people feeling for him. I like Lucien as well, but I always felt mass pity for Bellamont after finding out his story in the game.

The plot is all written out so luckily I'm not going to run into any writers block. Also, thanks to my awesome Beta-reader, writing this is going to be a whole lot smoother and with a lot less grammar errors.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this story. Cheers : )

Disclaimer: I do not own anything from this story, except Mikal Bellamont, and any other characters not originally from the TES universe. If I did, you wouldn't be reading this because I'd be too busy taking a shower with all that money.

Chapter One:

Childhood

Bellamont was at the age of 35, ad he was dying.

He was on his back in that filthy damned tomb, the one where they called that whore "Mother" lived. The knife was still pierced in his chest. Lucien's dog Silencer was laying on the ground as well, on his bleeding stomach, his hand desperately clutching the knife as if he were afraid to let it go. Why should he be afraid? He won, after all. Bellamont, in deep pain, throwing up chunks of thick blood, stared hard at the dark ceiling. Dying was such a long process, even with a killer pushing down the knife in you second after second. Bellamont wanted to embrace Death finally, something he had looked forward to since that horrid day. He never realized that till now, but dying was a long, dull process. Was it a long process for all his victims, too? Did they have to think about all the sins they committed while dying by their vengeful murderer as well?

The ceiling. It was rocky. Bellamont didn't know why he studied it so hard, but he did. It was a pointless, yet to Bellamont a horrible, ugly ceiling. Why did he care so much about it? Maybe he wanted to remember something before he died. But surely, if he could remember anything after death, it would be more than the fact that the ceiling is rocky? Yet, what else was there in Bellamont's life? Hardship. Pain. False hope. Lost love. Death. Murder. Red. Black...

Bellamont grinned.

Even with a knife taut in him, which should have made him writhing in pain, he was smiling big, like a cheshire grin . The man, for the first time in his life he could call himself that, remembered something he had forgotten long ago. It was something important. Something he missed along his relentless life. Something special.

At one point, Mathieu Bellamont was happy.

~~{*}~~

"Mikal, not so high!"

Young Mikal screeched with loud laughter, ignoring the aching in his throat as he and his older brother jumped carelessly on their beds. Mathieu had always kept an eye out for the little Mikal, but in truth he could be called just as reckless. In fact, they were both known as little devils and troublemakers in their Bravil town. Still, neither child had any care in the world, thinking nothing of society and they way society viewed them. In a way, they thought nothing was able to ever stop them. They were just children, after all, even Mathieu Bellamont.

Mikal landed on his bottom on the soft bed, and after a couple of bounces he crossed his arms and smeared on a pouty face.

"You always gotta be the boss, Matty!" little Mikal whined like a little brat. Mathieu sighed in annoyance. Mikal never understood the dangers of the world yet, and though Mathieu as young and reckless as well, he knew that if you fell off a bed you'd be crying about it soon after. It was Something he learned from past experiences, somewhat painful ones.

"Come one," Mathieu finally groaned, "You can pick what we do next." A big smile swept across Mikal's face. He happily bounced off the bed to the wooden ground and rushed out the door past his brother, determined to finally beat Mathieu in a game of race. Mathieu grinned as he sprinted across the house, making loud thumps and stomping on the ground. He was able to easily cross Mikal's path, for Mikal could never accept Mathieu's athletic speed.

The two Bellamont children made their way to the kitchen where their mother was preparing a hot meal for the night's dinner. They rushed past her without thinking, almost knocking her to to ground with a pot in her hands.

"By the Nine! Children!" She screamed after them while flinging a hot wooden spoon in the air like a mad-woman. "What did I say about running in this house?" But the kids were already gone, missing out on their mother's usual lecture and laughing like maniacs. Mikal tried to chase his older brother across the Bravil city, both dodging older adults who were in their way. Every time, Mathieu would hear someone scream "Damn kids!" or a "Rude misfits!" The kids didn't care though. They simply ran off without an apology.

Mathieu finally gave it a rest. His brother was now screaming from far away to wait up. At this point, Mathieu could have fled to Leyawiin and back before Mikal could even leave town. He gradually slowed his pace down, avoiding tripping and crashing into the dirt ground. While trying to take control of his heavy breathing, he stopped in front of a very tall, very beautiful statute of a motherly looking woman.

The Lucky Old Lady.

His neck bent back as he admired the statue. Mathieu always did love this landmark for some reason. Maybe it was the smile on her pretty face, or the laughter the small children seemed to silently make. Maybe it was that he could seemingly hear a voice coming from the woman herself, whispering into his ear with warm, soft words. The Lucky Lady seemed to spread love, not only to the inanimate children below her, but to the people and travelers in Bravil. And for what reason? Well, maybe there doesn't have to be a reason.

Poor little Mikal finally caught up with his older sibling, but had ignored Mathieu's advice to slow down. The young boy tripped on his own shoelace and fell far, smashing his face into the dirt ground and almost breaking his little nose and leg. Yet, the brave kid got back up steadily as he could, and with small whimpers he limped his way over to sit by his bother. After trying to fight away tears, he looked behind him to face the high-standing Lucky Lady.

"Are you ok?" Mathieu finally asked him.

"I'm fine..." He pouted quietly, and Mathieu rolled his eyes. Mikal had always been this stubborn, never listening to a word Mathieu said, then whine when he had to pay the consequences.

"Why did we stop here, Matty?"

"No reason, really," Mathieu sighed, then mocked coincidentally, "I just knew you wouldn't be able to beat me, so I stopped to wait on you."

"That's a lie, Matty! Mikal stood up in defense, "I could beat you any day and you know it!"

"Cause you sure showed it now, right?" He laughed, "Alright, alright. You wouldn't be able to tell a joke from your face, Mikal." The younger boy pouted again as usual, but Mathieu ignored him. He leaned back to view the statue once more, laying by one of the stone-children who reached out for its mother. Mathieu wrapped his single finger one the stone-child's tiny wrist. He added, "They say if you give the Lady a kiss, you'd get your wish. All your dreams, glory...anything will come true."

"That's a bunch of troll-poo."

Mathieu, a little startled by this comment, laughed, "Why do you say that?"

"Cause we can't even reach her! We can't we have our wish come true if we can't even reach to give her a kiss?"

"That's your fault for being small, runt," Mathieu laughed as he got up on his feet and began walking away.

"Why you gotta be a meanie all the time?" Mikal whined while following his brother. Mathieu chuckled. There is no answer to answer to that question, he thought with a smirk.

When the two got home, they found three hot plates full of food read to be eaten. Chicken, corn, potatoes, it was the cooking that made both the children's mouth water just by looking at it. Mother always had the best cooking, everyone knew that. It was her two children, however, who go the best of her cooking. Mathieu considered himself lucky to have a mother like her.

"You don't have to wait," Mother chuckled. She had always ignored the proper way to do things, such as waiting for everyone to eat. She always figured that if they weren't there to eat before others were, that was their fault. Mathieu always admired her ways of rebelling society, even if other's ddn't. Excited, the Bellamont children dug into their food like like starving moles. "Gracious," Mother joked, "You two act like I don't feed you!"

Mathieu, who still had food tucked in his mouth, as able to utter out the question, "Where's Father at?"

Of course, she didn't actually know for sure. She knew what he was doing, though; he was off screwing some whore across town. But she didn't know which one this time. Mother never did give the boy an answer, for it was something she didn't want him knowing for a long time if not at all. She only passed him a napkin to wipe off all the food form his mouth. The children could sense the sudden faint change in her mood. "Go clean yourselves up," She told them, "you have service tomorrow at the Mara Chapel, and it's an early wake."

Though Mikal pouted as usual, Mathieu did what he was told. He never questioned his mother. She was about the only one he never questioned though, because he never thought his Father, who he rarely saw, deserved such respect.

Mathieu Bellamont only wished nights were as pleasant as the days were, but that was never true. When Father had finally come home, it was hard to sleep. Mother and Father would constantly fight to the point he could hear his mother's screams and his father's roars clearly as day. Mathieu never understood why they fought the way they did. Mathieu could hear thumps and cries all the time, and it made him so worried but too scared to check what was happening. Mother would yell out "Whore" and other words in Breton tongue. Father would use "Bitch" , which made Mathieu himself angry. His dear mother wasn't a-

Mathieu wasn't allowed to say such words.

He was way past trying to sleep, it was useless to try anymore. Mathieu turned his head to view his brother. Above all the screaming, Bellamont could see part of his brothers face, partially covered in the dark, but it was enough to see the look. Mikal's face was blank, not scared, not angry. Blank.

"Mikal? "Mathieu whispered to his brother. No response. Not even a flinch. Mathieu didn't like when Mikal got like this, it scared him too much. He would act as if his soul was sucked out of him, if only for a night. Yet, normal nights were pretty much like this, and Mathieu was getting tired of it.

Mathieu just wanted everyone to be happy.

~~{*}~~

One Middas afternoon, Mother, whose real name was Margaret Bellamont, was having her daily tea with her sister-in-law and one friend, Mayle. It was common for high-class Bretons to partake in these kinds of events, no matter how small, and at least one tea-time a day was apart of these traditions. Of course, you would have to have at least one Breton friend or family to partake with you, whether your Breton or not in order for the social call to be culturally correct. At the time, Bretons considered themselves higher than anyone else, and anyone who didn't follow the socially accepted code wasn't even good enough to talk to them. Margaret, now being a Bellamont, only felt as if it were her duty to take part in these types of things, but mostly because Alain harassed her if she didn't. He would argue with the "The family will talk if you don't!" spech. Really, she didn't give a rat's ass about society's culture.

Sigh... well, at least it was with Mayle and not some other stuck-up Bellamont. Yet, Mayle would talk her head off if she could. Margaret, believe it or not, wasn't a rich Breton. She grew up in a lower class Breton family in High Rock, where instead of daily teas, they would spend their time praying to the chapel of Mara. It took time to adjust herself in this lifestyle after marrying Alain and moving to Cyrodiil. Time that could have been better spent prying to the Adrea gods like a good Breton should.

Mayle sat her tea down properly and pierced her lips together like a normal high-class woman. "Still having relationship issues with my brother?" She asked rather loudly to Margret, as if it wasn't a secret to anyone.

"Yes, Mayle," Margaret murmured before sipping her tea, something she also had to get used to drinking. "We'll be fine though. We just need a little time to heal, that's all."

Mayle gave a high lady-like Hmp. "I wouldn't deal with that maniac," She advised, "I've been his sister my whole life and I can tell you he'll never change. I'm telling you because I'm your friend, not because your married to my brother. His anger can get the best of him. You wouldn't want him to harm your kids would you?"

"Thats absurd!" Margaret put her cup down in anger, "He wouldn't do anything to those children! And besides, my kids need a father, what right do I have to take that away from them, anyway?"

"They don't even see their father now, so what's the difference? In my opinion, if it matters, they'll be a mess by the time they turn 18 from this whole ordeal." Mayle finished her cup already, and set it to the side. "They'll be happier with a single mother and a quiet life."

Margaret sighed. Though Mayle was obviously a spoiled rich woman, she was wise and happened to be right all the time, including in this situation. Mayle Bellamont was like that. Her smarts were always overshadowed by her snobby attitude. Either way, Margaret had to take this conversation to heart. She decided that the following night she was going to talk to Alain.

Hopefully, she thought to herself, nothing bad will come out of it...

~~{*}~~

Mathieu jerked up violently from his sleep. What was that? It sounded like a loud thump. Louder than before. There was screaming too, but from who? Mathieu's breathing was getting heavier, and that feeling inside him sunk deep. It wasn't like before, when his parents fought. This time it was different. His chest was beating so fast. Something had went wrong, he didn't know what and he didn't know why, but he knew it was the truth. Something bad had happened.

The brother's bedroom door flew open nearly off it's hinges, frightening both the kids who gasped loudly. It was their dear mother. Her face was scared, and it was dripping in some thick liquid that Mathieu couldn't make out in the darkness.

"Get your stuff together!" She bolted into the room.

"Momma-"

"Don't question me, Mikal!" Mother shouted at the boy. She started to throw clothes into bags without even looking, shoving them like it would be the death of her if she didn't hurry. "Do what I say, we don't have much time!" Rushed, both kids followed their mother and stuffed their belongings into bags. Mathieu got all he could together, not knowing when they'll be back. Mikal, on the other hand, desperately shoved toys and stuffed animals into his bag, only thinking of what he would play with in the long run.

The wagon was already waiting outside. Mathieu looked around, yet Father wasn't in sight. It was just the three, plus the fat old driver and his slowly dying dog.

"M-mother," Mathieu tugged on his Mother's sleeve nervously, "Where's Father?"

Oh, just great. How was Margaret supposed to tell little Mathieu what had happened? No, this wasn't the time for questions. They needed to go before he woke up. "No more questions," She ordered, "Go get in the wagon and make yourselves comfortable. This is going to be a long ride."

Night was so different when your riding in a buggy, Bellamont thought. He was so paranoid, thinking that some wolf was going to attack, or bandits would rob them. Mother was too protective, too. She would die trying to shove them away. Mathieu didn't like this at all. He had so many questions to ask his sleeping mother, but didn't know if he had the guts to start. Her sleeping face was in terrible shape. It was still bloody but slowly turning into scabs. Her left eye was black, and upper lip was so swollen, it almost made Mathieu gag. Mathieu tried to close his eyes along with his two relatives, but couldn't even manage that. This, Bellamont thought, was going to be a long cold night.

A few times, they stopped at small towns for supplies and to have the Buggy-rider rest. Mother told the Buggy-rider that she refused to stop at any big city, for "Someone might tell him that we were there. I want to get as close to our destination without stopping at any other city." The small cities were a bit strange to the two brothers. They've never been outside their Bravil city, so seeing lower-class children dressed in rags run around was different in a way. The children had nothing to play with, no toys or games, yet the sill had fun somehow. The Bellamont brothers felt like outsiders, and couldn't get themselves to approach any other kid. Either way, it wasn't long before the four had left the towns they arrived in.

Nights turned into days, making Bellamont wonder how far their destination was. He was worried. How would Father be able to find them when they were so far away? Mathieu didn't like riding in the Buggy. It was uncomfortable and small. Yet, in the situation with his Mother, he didn't dare complain.

Finally, the Buggy-rider had let the three stop at a big city, surrounded by a beach and boats, that Mathieu was unfamiliar with. He saw the big stone-sign and murmured along with the bolded words "Anvil" that was imprinted in it.

"Why did we come here, Mother?" He asked curiously to Margaret as they made their way into the gate.

"This," Margaret sighed, almost not believing the truth herself, "Is our new home, children."

"A new home?" Mathieu thought. The two brothers looked at each other curiously.

No more screaming? No more fighting?

Its all over?

Bellamont smiled bug and brightly to himself. The Lucky Old Lady had given him his wish.

The one wish he had hoped for everyday since the fighting began.

The once wish that Mathieu would trade all his presents in for.

He had a new life.