This is no ordinary assassin's guild. In the Dark Brotherhood, there are many Tenets and morbid traditions. One of the many traditions is the positions passed down to certain members. Some are important-some even more. However, all positions are relatively essential for the Dark Brotherhood to stand on its own. There are 3 speakers, a Keeper and a Listener. The 3 Speakers are the ones who give out contracts to other members assigned to kill certain people. They are also the one's responsible for recruiting. They travel far and wide to find able and agile recruits worthy to join their family. The Keeper is a different story. Members of the Dark Brotherhood elect a certain member assigned to taking care of a very important figure head: The Night Mother.
She is a corpse who was in life, infamous for murdering her children in Sithis's honor. Sithis, being the Dread Lord of a place called the Void. And the Void; a place both dark and silent that it is a gateway to madness. It is the otherside of life when you die as a member, or the victim of one. Regardless of which you once were, you will serve Sithis for eternity.
The Night Mother was praised highly by Sithis by proving her loyalty. Killing her children gave birth to the idea that guilt, innocence, and remorse is one of life's many illusions. She is highly respected and honored for she can speak to whoever she chooses...for a single certain reason.
The Keeper basically preserves the Night Mother's body and keeps her safe for the rest of the Keeper's days. The Keeper rarely leaves the Sanctuary, thus ensuring the sanctity and the safety of the Night Mother. It is the second greatest honor.
The greatest honor of all is being named...The Listener. The Listener is the chosen one-the one the Night Mother solely speaks to.
There are people who pray to the Night Mother all over. It is a special prayer that involves nightshade flowers, a skeleton, a blade, candles, and a special chant. The Night Mother tells the Listener the client and the target for the job.
The Listener is the soul of the Dark Brotherhood. The Keeper, the heart. The Speaker's, the will and mind. The four fingers and thumb. Ironically, a painted black hand is the symbol of the Dark Brotherhood.
The Dark Brotherhood is now a shadow of its former self; Relocated in an ancient discovered Sanctuary, the Tenets long forgotten(save for one), but most of all...their numbers are greatly reduced to a shameful three. Despite their overall achievement of assassinating Emperor Titis Mead II and earning 25,000 septims, they are certainly at their greatest disadvantage. They praise Sithis for the exaggerated rumors spoken of them.
Fear and blood is their only ally and greatest hope...as it always has been. Now, and forever.
Pain. Misery. Sadness. Melancholy…and Madness. These are thee emotions Lillith lives through daily. She is no ordinary woman, and she is certainly no hero. Blood and fear is her code, her career-her way of life. Now, and forever.
Assassin of the Dark Brotherhood, a guild of killers known throughout the ages, welcomes her with open arms, and treats her like a true sister.
One day, a jester carrying a coffin and claiming to be a former member in a different province brings a new change. Shortly after, Lilith's greatest horror becomes a nightmare of a reality.
She becomes the one thing that she resents with every fiber of her being-to this very all things, she becomes…The Listener. A legendary title bestowed upon her unwillingly and unwanted. She hears the voice of a dead corpse that commands her to kill certain people. The unholy matron-the Night Mother.
Any thoughts of escape were buried beneath all impossible things. The Night Mother is an ethereal deity that can read your very thoughts and memories, and emotions…
SHE decides the contracts of elimination. SHE decides the fate of those under her. And SHE chooses the Listener.
And she is not a force to be reckoned with.
Lillith is tired of it all. So many things have changed dramatically-both good and bad. The family it once was has been reduced to 3 people. A jester, a friend, and herself.
The Jester is the Keeper, the one who looks after the Night Mother's body. Cicero, riddles, rhyming, jingled bell cap and all. His very humor-even though morbid- gives Lillith a reason to stay-a reason to live.
She wants to runaway, but betrayal is not taken kindly by any guild-family or not. Fear holds her back.
One day, the Night Mother stops speaking completely. No one knows why. And Lillith is terrified. She is forced to act.
Her decisions change the lives of everyone, and herself. She finds things about herself and her past that she was never meant to know. And when she does, she must choose between a new way of life…or her family.
I awoke feeling dizzy and beyond freezing. I...was being dragged by the wrists forward. the ground below me burned my knees like sand paper, and my vision was blurred beyond recognition. Every part of my body ached with fatigue and I felt like I had slept for a thousand years. I can barely remember what happened before I lost consciousness. The closest I have to a reminder is a powerful aching sensation in my forehead.
When my vision was somewhat clear, all I could see was white all around me. I didn't have the strength to move my neck to view my captors. All I could see is what was in plain sight ahead of me. I slowly rose my head to see the time of day. What I saw only vexed and horrified me. The sky looked as if it were both dawn and dusk. The stars were alight and auroras painted the sky in a new world.
I heard faint voices...chanting. As I felt my body being painfully dragged upon a different path, the voices spoke as one, chanting a name. "Boethiah, Boethiah, Boethiah!" It became louder and louder and my ears felt an agonizing ringing pulsation. I was thrown forward, and I felt footsteps rushing towards me in heavy snow. Snickering and laughing filled my ears.
"Boethiah! I have brought you your gift! As requested..." snickered a familiar voice beside my body. "No..." I moaned lowly, coming to a painful realization. Vasha, the Khajiit that journeyed with me to find the legendary treasure we formed an alliance to find. I was betrayed! That damn cat! I should've known this would happen!
"Bring the other bitch forward!" yelled a pirate-like voice. Someone had pulled the tresses of my hair, forcing me to look up. My vision colored and discolored through lines of blurriness. The crowd ahead was dressed in many different things. A huge majority of them wore pure silver armor, while the others wore what looked like arena raiment.
The crowd clamored together and then quickly spread as they brought the body of another victim forward. What I saw sent ripples of shock and pain throughout my heart. The familiar face of a proud warrior I once knew...tarnished and humiliated in front of me. Jenessa; my dark elf friend. Her once flawless grayish skin was painted with gruesome scars, and her leather armor had shredding's and massive open wounds far from healed. Her once perfect pitch black pupil-less onyx eyes were thinned and narrowed and swollen.
"Jen..." I weakly called out. My throat was sore and my voice near inaudible. The crowd boomed with sick sadistic laughter. I didn't know if my eyes were tricking me, but I swore I saw tints of florescent purple and blue auroras pulling towards us. My head pounded painfully, and the laughter dyed down slowly. "Well done Vasha..." said that pirate-like voice again. I weakly looked towards the man speaking. He was gripping my friend's neck tightly, and smiling darkly towards my direction. His skin was creamy white, and his eyes blood-red and demonic. A vampire. He was bald and was wearing the arena attire. Jenessa weakly struggled against his grip, only for someone to shove he painfully in the ribcage. She yelped and whimpered upon contact.
On impulse, I bolted forward, only to be yanked back by my hair. I felt a foot kick against my ribs, and I coughed up blood. "Now, now... that's no way for a guest to behave, Lillith..." said an all too familiar voice. I weakly raised my head higher, staring into the cat's eyes. "Burn in hell, milk-drinker..." I spat venomously. Vasha only chuckled. All of a sudden, a loud voice broke out through the crowd. Ancient, bold, commanding, and demeaning and demonic;
"Sacrifice the dunmer."
"NO!" I screamed, ignoring the pain in my throat. I yanked forward with all my might, only to be effortlessly pulled back harshly. I kicked and I screamed. Everything happened in SLOW motion. "Jenessa! Jenessa! JENESSA!" All I could do was watch as my friend's life was taken by blade. She choked on her own blood, and fell limply to the ground. And then, of all things impossible...
The crowd fell silent at once. The aurora's shrouded Jenessa's corpse like a thousand ribbons. Her body glowed in an unreal veil of purple, and she slowly lifted. Jenessa's body rose about 6ft above the ground, her body glowing in an unreal shade of purple. A scream of terror that sounded distorted arisen from Jenessa's corpse, dimming the florescent purple barely. It sounded like a part of Jenessa's soul fighting to expel whatever was consuming her mortal body. It was silenced by a sharp sickening crack of bones, and the corpse rose on its own accord. The body echoed the purple auroras in every direction, and my sight was clouded and severely distorted as if I was under water. The woman I once knew was long gone. Jenessa's corpse stood perfectly on her bare feet, her gray body bare and naked. Her eyes were closed and the scars glown a dark shade of purple. What stood before me felt like an abomination. An evil deity I knew nothing about, awoken new horrors and fears grave and unspoken. Her eyes now a glowing white and misty purple iris opened, and her lips parted.
"Feast your eyes before me, lowly mortal... For I am The Daedric Prince of deceit...treachery, insurrection, and rebellion.
I am Boethiah."
Terror shook my heart and bones violently. Everything felt unreal. It was as if all logic and hope no longer existed. It was as if my greatest nightmare had come to life. No one was talking. The deity stood silently, her eyes narrowed. I awkwardly lifted my body off the ground. The pain was replaced by a numbing sensation, and my eyes were narrowed to slits. Her luminescence felt blinding.
"What are you? Some kind of God?" I asked with a raspy throat, looking at what once was my friend.
The deity named Boethiah laughed demonically.
"Such Insolence... I am far more powerful than any 'God' you claim to worship. I am the most feared Daedra of them all."
"What do you want from me?" I asked, barely hearing myself speak. Boethiah's lips curled into a smile. She shamelessly strode towards me, ignoring the glances of her followers. She stood less than a couple feet before me.
"I've been searching far and wide for you, Assassin of old. You have slain countless people in your path. You possess a power so ancient that none of my followers are worthy or capable of concealing. My eyes can see past illusions and lies. I can see an ancient spirit, kin to my brethren…and myself. I know not who and what you are, nor do I care where your loyalties lie. None of that matters. I will give you a choice. Live to serve me. Become my champion. Slay those who oppose and deny my existence. Kill for me. And give your celestial form to me."
I always wanted to leave the Night Mother. This represented an opportunity. I never imagined I'd meet a deity worse than the unholy matron. The last thing I wanted was to serve another master. I vowed that if I ever left the Night Mother, I would never enter a pact with another evil deity. The first time was a careless mistake. I'll die before that happens. There was no way I'd go along with this.
"And if I refuse?" I asked, knowing the answer. Her face contorted into a chilling glare-one that felt like she could see into my very soul. She approached further, circling me.
"You would dare defy me? I could kill you at my own will, take your corpse, and feed it to the bears. But of course, that's what you're asking for...am I right?"
I quickly turned to her, eyes widened. "Tell me, mortal. Where do you stand? With my people, as my instrument, or my pet?"
She said, whispering in my ear.
I turned to her, anger coursing through my veins.
"Fuck you."
She smiled bitterly."I had such high hopes for you. Oh well...maybe a little time in a cell will change your mind. Vasha. Take custody of her."
Vasha glared darkly at the daedric prince. "That wasn't part of the deal." "Consider it an alteration. Defy me, and I'm sure my followers would make great use of you. After all, this is winter, and blankets have become scarce." Vasha's fists tightened, and he inhaled sharply. "For how long?" questioned Vasha. He stood next to me, eyes narrowed in a glare.
Boethiah gazed at him lazily, her back turning towards me.
"Until I deem otherwise."
She looked over her shoulder, gave one last glance at me, and her eyes widened, glowing a vivid purple. A piercing screech ringed in my ears, and suddenly, all was darkness.
I awoke groggily, my lips, and throat dry, devoid of water. My joints ached, and my wrists felt incredibly numb. I forced myself awake, noticing my wrists were suspended and my back was against the wall. My clothes had been reduced to rags, and I heard a clap across the room. There, the cat sat. His eyes glowed in the dim lit room, and his face shown amusement.
He stood, and approached me. "Never in my life, have I ever met someone as bold and gullible as you. It's a shame, really. It didn't have to come to this." Vasha stood inches away from me, his height of 7 ft easily towering over me. I glared daggers at him, and his smile only widened. "Let me guess? The silent treatment? Aren't you a bit old for that? Hmm?" He said, gripping my chin playfully, as if we knew each other like brother and sister. My gaze only darkened, almost trying to will him to burn into flames. Never in my life had I wanted to actually kill someone so badly. If given the chance, I would relish in the memry of taking the cat's life as slowly and as painful as possible. "Why did you do this? What could you've possible gained?" I asked through gritted teeth.
He only gave me a sinister smile, releasing my chin. "A great many things." He said, turning his back to me. "Aside from wealth and protection, well...you." I gulped, and my stomach churned. "You sick bastard..." "I did it for the best. I didn't put you in this position. You brought this on yourself; insulting a daedra...you would've been in a more comfurtable situation if you hadn't done that." Vasha gestured all around us. "And yet here we are. I did this for you, can't you see that?" "You sick bastard, I didn't ask for this! I-" Vasha leaped forward, gripping my chin tightly. "But you did. I gave you what you what you wanted; I took you away from that life. the life you left behind."
I trembled, praying he was lying. But a man like that...would have no reason to. "What do you mean?"I asked softly. "Does it matter? You're free. And you can start anew. It's what you wanted, isn't it?"
"If you think you can keep me here, you're wrong. My brothers are coming for me. And they will slaughter you like a pig and skin you alive!" I screamed.
Vasha'a smile faded, and his posture was very serious and demeaning. His face was now inches to mine, and his cat eyes stared into my own. "They're not coming to save you, Lillith."
Vasha wasn't smiling. His complete demeaner changed. Dread and terror consumed me. "What did you do?" I asked, wanting to know, not wanting to know. He backed away slowly, his expression unchanging.
"You're sanctuary has been burned to the ground. The Night Mother's corpse has been destroyed. And your brothers are dead."
The world shattered before me. Sorrow and grief in its greatest form consumed me. Memories of my brothers flashed in front of me. I was filled with tremendous regret. Without a shread of dignity, I weeped in front of the cat. Tears broke through the damn that was holding them for so long, and my heart hurt...so much. I knew long ago that this would be the only way to leave my life behind...I just didn't wanna face it. I didn't want it to weigh heavily on my heart...like it does now. Even thought I hated being with them...they actually felt like a true family. They were all I had left. And Vasha took them from me.
"Come now...you knew this would have to happen. You knew that...and yet you weep for them. Don't worry. I won't make you regret this. I promise." He whispered in my ear. I felt my lower rags being torn off easily. I knew what was to come.
I hurt everywhere. Especially below. And I feel shame...The very cat I let into the Sanctuary...the very cat I followed and told my deepest secret...it all led to this trap. I was just too blind to see it. But I think back, and realize that...maybe I just didn't listen to the signs. I ignored them. My desperation clouded my judgement...and it became my ultimate price. I wanted to be free-more than anything. But I realize now, it came at a great cost. I didn't feel as happy as I thought I would.
I don't know how long it's been. Ten minutes feel like ten hours. Everything feels blurred together. I can memorize almost every object in the room. The walls look as if they're made of ancient stone. The ceiling has an iron-rusted chandelier, candles melted and unlit. The ground has a bunch of blankets of many colors sprawled all over. A dimly lit lamp rest upon a bed and a door is cracked open. I want to escape. More than anything. But it's impossibility. My wrists are numb beyond belief, and my body aches from being suspended in a position for so long. My bones ache, and I feel like I'll never die. My greatest nightmare has become a reality.
Vasha has betrayed me. I'm a hostage. My only home has been burned to the ground. And my brothers lie dead. A pain like no other strikes my heart. Cicero is dead. Cicero, the fool I loved dearly like a brother. He was the only reason why I stayed in that hellish place. He was the only one who was actually there for me. And yet, I never told him. He died not knowing the truth that I held inside for so long. The truth that I never wanted to be in the Dark Brotherhood. But how could've I told him that? Cicero holds everything in the Dark Brotherhood so dearly. He always wanted to be the Listener. I knew that much. And he only idolized me because I spoke the ancient words he waited to hear for so long. I knew that he envied me. Dangerously so. He would take my life if given the chance. The only thing that held him against that was The Night Mother.
Anyone who wanted to leave the Dark brotherhood had only one way: by blade. I think that there's a really sick part of me that wished Cicero could've been the one to do it. The truth would've saved me from all of this. I wouldn't have to live with this regret...or this pain. And Cicero would've known the truth. I still don't know why that seems so important. My feelings with this whole situation are twisted and confusing. Nothing makes sense anymore. In the beginning, nothing did. I realize that I've forgotten many things in my past. I forgot the life I had before the Dark brotherhood. Everything feels so blurred together...I have only been in this guild for 3 years, but it feels much longer. And it's ended. Forever. I thought I'd be relieved.
Vasha has come in the room more than once. He never tortured me or mocked me. He would always bring a plate of food that I'd refuse to eat. My stomach growled in protest, but I ignored it almost easily. I wanted to die. So bad. Starvation is my only way. Vasha would always plead, and I would ignore him. He offered many things. He said he'd release me from these chains if I obeyed him. His offers were never what I wanted. I wanted to be free. Either outside and far away, or in the void.
It feels like I've been here for years. The last time Vasha approached me for a meal, his attire looked like a jester's motley. I can feel my own sanity slipping. My thoughts always return to my memories of Cicero. How he taught me to read, to learn...to laugh. Cicero was always on my mind. He was my greatest sorrow, and my greatest joy. It's a maddening twist, but I don't care.
My memories return to his journals. His elegant writing, his very complex words...although I barely understood his writing, I thought his literature was amazing. His very description...beautiful. There is one definite thing I remember of how he became insane. His transformation into the jester...I could see it in the writings. His madness was caused by isolation. And I know that feeling only too well... I wished I had gotten to know the man he once was. Because the journals seem like they're written by two different people.
The lines between dreams and reality seem blurred together. I am living in his journals. I am living in a memory. A memory that is not my own. As my body aches painfully, I can feel myself drifting...I can feel myself leaving. Slowly. Inch by inch, as if Sovngarde is calling me. As if the heavens are waiting for me...mourning for me.
Cicero's journals are my only memories now. They're all I want. They're all I need.
I'm surprised. The feel of reality is returning. Nothing has changed. I am still in Vasha's tower. Vasha was never torturing me either. Aside from being suspended against the cold wall, he's done nothing else to hurt me. Every day, he tries to force food down my throat. And I throw it BACK UP. It's not really by choice alone. My body won't accept anything other than water. And that's all I can accept.
I can hear myself talking aloud all the time. It's as if I can never speak my thoughts on the inside anymore. I find myself quoting Cicero's journal. "Silence, silence, silence...deafening silence. In my head, in my head...it is the silence of death. The silence of the void. Seeping through me, from The Night Mother..."
"The silence is hatred. The silence is rage. The silence is love."
I was never worthy of being Listener. What did the Night Mother see in me? What strength did she see that I couldn't? Or was it weakness? I don't know anymore. I don't care. She's not going to save me.
The Night Mother made this happen. She was the cause of everything. She was the cause of Cicero's madness. She was the cause of fear. And she was the cause of me. She spoke to me. And she stopped speaking. Why? Why? Why? WHY?!
The Night Mother brought this! Her silent treatment was what did all of this! If it weren't for this, we wouldn't be here! Vasha would've never come to me! And Babette would still be alive!
I remember how Babette died. She went on a killing spree by herself. We found her corpse on our doorstep 3 days after she left. It hurt us all. An excellent killer. And a very sweet girl...
Did The Night Mother exist? Did she truly speak to me? Or was it all a lie? Have I been insane from the start?
I must be insane. I can hear Cicero's voice. Tears swell up once more. I'm surprised I have any left. I can feel my wrists being touched softly. But...the hands. They don't feel like Vasha's furry paws...My eyes feel sown shut by sleeping grits and tears. My lips and throat and mouth are dry like a desert. And my bones feel numb with a tingling sensation. I can feel someone...setting me loose. The cuffs surrounding my hands are gone. But I don't have the strength to move them. My limbs feel heavy. I am being held in someone's warm embrace. And for some strange reason, I want to be hanging from the wall again. It hurts a little less.
I can feel gloved hands caressing my face...this is a dream. This isn't real. I whimpered, trying to hold back a sob. Whoever this is...he smells like winter. He smells like mint. He smells like mountain flowers.
My mouth parts and a single word escape my lips."...Cicero?" I ask, knowing it's just a dream. Knowing it could never be him.
It takes a moment for the stranger to speak. And his answer is nothing I ever expected to hear in life. Or in death. Not even in my mad mind.
"...Yes, my Listener?"