Suitably titled, because I'm rather unfortunately enthralled with these two. And while I've written oneshots before, I decided to try my hand at a multi-chapter fic detailing the relationship that isn't even remotely hinted at in the game, but you all know it's canon.
No? Just me? Ah well...
For those of you who read the summary and are wondering: 'all very well, but who are Banus and Uvani?!' then...I expect you've not seen my other stuff, so I'll explain: Alval Uvani is the grumpy Dunmer you have to assassinate late into the Dark Brotherhood storyline – you know the one, "Get any closer and I'll turn your bones to ash!" Isn't he a sweetheart? No? Just me again...
And Banus Alor is one of the few remaining Speakers at the end of it all, who says what, two lines before he gets killed? But he left enough of an impression on me to become one of my favourite characters. And so I, as a dedicated fangirl, have dutifully paired him up with Uvani to create much slash and rocking of socks.
Thusly, if you're fine with the idea of awkward romance between two male Dunmer, read on! Hopefully I will also turn you into a fangirl- er, I mean, entertain and wow you. Yeah, that. So enough with the long introduction, let's start already!
Disclaimer: don'townOblivionokaylet'sgetonwiththestorynow.
Unfortunately Enthralled – chapter one
He's never seen a gentle assassin before.
He's been at the Leyawiin sanctuary long enough to observe the full scope of emotions new initiates possess. Plenty have been angry, yes, plenty turbulent and troubled. Some have a sadistic glint to their eyes, a macabre glee, and some have the despair and world-weariness of a broken soul. Some wear an emotionless mask – some truly are emotionless, dead and hollow inside, incapable of sentiment.
But he has never seen gentle.
He comes in soaked from the outside rain, though it does not hinder his gracefulness, that ethereal elegance that belongs to the Altmer even though his eyes are red ad his skin is dusky-blue. Uvani tends to regard newcomers – and even those he has known for years – with distrust, but he finds himself staring in wonderment; at least, until the stranger-whose-name-he-does-not-yet-know meets his gaze, giving him a serene smile. And Uvani, who is not a silly adolescent, catches himself and curls his lip into a trademark sneer, the one that tells all the new recruits: You're no brother of mine.
"Gather, everyone," their Speaker calls out, and the others hurry to obey – except Uvani, but they're all used to him lurking in the background by now, "We have a new addition to the family."
Said new addition is still looking at him, he realises, craning his neck to see past the rest of the group. His scowl intensifies, but it doesn't seem to be working, so he turns away and menaces the wall instead. He's always been good at being alone in a crowded room, and so he successfully blocks out the words of the Speaker, misses the initiate's name in the process. He misses the Speaker departing, the others dispersing, and the approach of the young Dunmer who has been watching him the entire time.
"Is the wall very interesting?"
He tenses, glares up at the boy with an unwavering smile and eyes too kind to belong to a killer; "Do you want something, or did you just come over to bother me?" he snaps, because that's how he treats everyone and this is no different.
"Depends. Does giving your name bother you?" his voice is soft but not shaky or fearful like the flighty ones, nor cold and clipped like the assertive ones. "You are...?"
He gives him a withering look that doesn't work in the slightest, "Alval Uvani. Executioner by rank, aka higher than you."
"Uvani," the newcomer repeats thoughtfully, completely ignoring the status jibe, "I'm-"
"I don't care," he interrupts sharply, "Just stay out of my way and don't give me a reason to hurt you. Got it?"
"Brother," another assassin speaks, pulling the initiate away, "Come with us, we'll show you around the sanctuary," and as they leave, he evidently forgets that elves have exceptionally good ears, because Uvani still hears him despite the low mutter: "Don't mind him. He acts that way towards everyone."
He is used to such words, and so merely sneers at the assassin's retreating back before turning away again. He is renowned and for the most part disliked for his brusque, snappy attitude, but he has always ignored the behind-his-back comments of his peers, even when he was still a lowly Murderer. Now he ranks above most, and smirks inwardly when they flinch away from him, too fearful of his prowess in Destruction magic and too cowardly to do anything but whine and sulk when they think he is out of earshot.
He rises from his chair, in the mood for a solitary wander out in the rain, when the newcomer turns and glances at him again. He scowls back, but it only causes the other mer to smile and mouth something soundlessly at him. A petty insult, he thinks at first, but when he actually registers the movement of his lips, he realises it is, in fact, a name:
Banus Alor.
"You're to follow Banus."
He glances boredly at the Breton man, "Who?"
"Banus Alor. You know, the new brother you've been ignoring all week?" the Master of the sanctuary clicks his tongue disdainfully, among those who scorn Uvani's antisocial tendencies, "He's received his first proper contract. The Speaker wants you to shadow him, observe his style of assassination, any strengths or flaws, then make a report."
Uvani's lip curls again, "I am the most skilled assassin in this sanctuary. I have more important things to do than play babysitter for an underling."
"Speaker's instructions, Uvani," the other mercenary grimaces, the accusation of Arrogance... in his eyes, but not on his lips. But there's triumph as well, at the – only – leverage he has over the Executioner, "Unless you're refusing orders...?"
"Of course not," since that's grounds for invoking the Wrath of Sithis. Which he hasn't done yet, though he's come close in the past, when his temper was spikier and the muttered words got to him more. "The will of the Black Hand is law...even if it is a waste of my talents."
After receiving the details of the contract – and a glare for his attitude – Uvani follows Banus as he makes his way North, towards Bravil. The objective is simple enough, to eliminate the man taking refuge in the city chapel; a task given on the assumption that Alor prefers stealth to brutality, but then he hardly seems the berserker type, and he carries a small dagger as opposed to a war axe.
Beyond that, however, Uvani has no idea what to expect, and he is admittedly curious as to how this night will go. Not that he usually wonders about the newcomers, but Banus is different in that he doesn't seem like a killer. His voice is too soft, his smile is too warm, his manner is too peaceful to belong to one of the Dark Brotherhood. Does he change, perhaps? After all, there are some Speakers who seem pleasant and charismatic enough, but eventually show their true colours as brutal, bestial things with a thirst for blood. And Uvani, being more perceptive than most, has always been able to see past that façade of perfection, to detect something not quite right with them. But not with this one...if that serenity is indeed no more than a mask, it is utterly flawless.
His curiosity only grows as he pursues the Murderer through the bleak, dank town of Bravil, towards it's equally raggedy chapel of Mara. Everyone is asleep this late into the night, and Banus has little trouble sneaking past the priests and healers down to the room where his target slumbers; Uvani follows swift and silent, hidden by the useful chameleon spell all assassins pick up eventually.
The man twitches in his bed even though Banus makes next to no sound, and so he is careful not to shut the door, knowing it will wake him. He approaches gracefully, unhurriedly, and Uvani expects that soft smile to turn predatory, but it does not. He's never seen anyone look so benevolent even as they cover a victim's nose and mouth and proceed to smother them in their sleep.
Unsurprisingly, the man wakes up, instantly recognising the dark armour and concealing hood of a Dark Brotherhood assassin. His eyes widen in panic, moans muffled from the gloved hand covering his face, desperately thrashing and pushing and hitting whatever he can reach. Banus remains unfazed, smile widening as he tilts his head to one side, with a look so calm and compassionate it would seem he is healing the man instead of ending his life. For a moment, Uvani muses what it must look like, to have your vision haze and flicker, black tendrils of unconsciousness curling inwards like spilt ink with the certainty that you're going to die – and through it all, a demon-eyed saint, smiling down graciously as if to say Rest now.
But the man's will to live is unbreakable, and through his struggles his hands find the dagger at Banus' hip, pulling it out in a desperate attempt of kill-or-be-killed. Banus is swift, catches the blade before it can be plunged into him, leaves his mark's mouth and nose exposed as he does so. The man gasps in air like it's his first breath, before trying to scream for help, and-
-Never gets the chance. The dagger, although Alor hadn't intended to use it, is driven deep into the man's throat, cutting through tendons, veins, and vocal chords. He can do no more than gurgle wetly, blood blossoming past his lips, down his face and onto his pillow. He shudders once, then falls back onto the bed with a lifeless thud and wide, glassy eyes. Uvani is so caught up in it all that he almost forgets to renew his chameleon spell; a soft tutting noise snaps him from his stupor, and he realises that, for the first time since meeting him, Banus Alor is not smiling. His lips are twisted into a frown that doesn't suit him, eyes sombre and rather saddened at the blood staining the man's paling skin.
He's never seen an assassin look at a dead target like that before.
He's never seen a assassin clean up his own murder either.
It seems like such a strange thing to do, carefully wiping away the blood with a spare scrap of cloth, wrapping the wound even though it benefits no-one, certainly not the long-deceased victim. He really does look like a healer now, handling the corpse as though it's still alive and made of glass, dabbing tenderly at crimson-stained lips with that same gentle expression. He turns the pillow over so the evidence is on the underside, disposes of the bloody cloth and, as an afterthought, folds the man's shirt collar upwards so it covers his bandaged neck.
He doesn't like to leave marks.
It's ridiculous, Uvani thinks – because what does it matter if there are marks, when the person is dead and gone? Of course removing incriminating evidence is fine, but going to lengths like that is just stupid. Not to mention impractical, since it's almost an hour before Banus is smiling again now he has perfected everything, to the extent that the man looks not dead but asleep, albeit for the cold whiteness of his skin. He then leaves swiftly before the priests have their early rise; Uvani can only imagine how baffled they will be to discover their guest lifeless, but thoughtfully arranged so as to appear not murdered, but gently embraced by death, and Sithis.
Perhaps that is the message Banus wishes to give.
So he understands the meaning, but not the motives, why the young Dunmer is so particular over how his victims should appear. There is still much he does not know, so much mystery that he cannot help being intrigued by, despite an inner spike of protest to keep this one at arm's length, as he does with everyone else. In the end, he tells himself that he's not about the befriend the boy – he doesn't need friends – but perhaps he can keep an eye on him from time to time. After all, he still needs to gauge whether the initiate can be trusted, something he can normally determine right away, but he will need to observe Banus further. Purely in the interest of self-preservation, of course.
But for today, his task is done. Banus is making his way back to the sanctuary and Uvani is already mentally wording his report: the details of what he has seen will raise more than a few eyebrows in the Black Hand, he is sure. Tomorrow there will be commotion, when the body of the murdered man is found, but for now, the streets are quiet, and no-one notices the two assassins as they depart Bravil, like passing whispers in the night.
I could leave this as a oneshot, but I intend to add more chapters, though I don't know how long it will be yet. And because I haven't written ahead like I've done with GBR, bear in mind that updates won't be as frequently scheduled, though I can guarantee I won't ever abandon the story.
Tell me if you liked it ^-^. I'd like to know I'm not the only fangirl of these two out there.