Feeding time. Two words that, often times, the denied shall reap of pleasurable reliefs in the dark. Feeding time should never torment the fed. It should enlighten their senses, and should make them feel secure and taken care of. Even in the dark, feeding time is bliss. Even in the decayed, feeding time is continuation.

Feeding time came early today. Far too early. While prisoners slept in silence within the freezing cells of the Imperial City Prison, one did not. She did not because she could hear them coming. She did not because she knew all too well the meaning of those footsteps. Footsteps like that only came this early within the still dark morning because feeding time did not just apply to the prisoners. They applied to the guards as well.

She squirmed into a fetal position upon her bedrool as the darkness of the chamber became lesser and lesser with the approaching light of fire outside of her smelly, decrepit cell. Clunk clunk clunk clunk… His footsteps were maddening to her. She wanted to claw her way through the stone and run, run, run away forever and ever. She had to! She had to eat the stone and escape before he reached her cell. Desperately, her eyes darted madly to the stone walls surrounding her, wondering where she should bite first….

The fire was getting closer and closer. All outside of her cell burned orange and yellow. The clunking was getting louder. He was almost here. Her tongue scraped the wall. It would not be eaten in time…

"Morning." Such a terrible word, spoken in a terrible voice. Her mind snapped. No! The jingling of keys. "Morning, Antoinetta…" His voice was shaking with suppressed laughter.

"Please," her terrified voice begged as she forced herself all the way against the wall, her heart racing so madly, so terribly. Her toes curled in fright, her fingernails positively digging into her sides. Maybe she could kill herself before he entered…. Maybe she could bash her head against the stone!

"Please what?" The door swung open loudly. A few annoyed voices issued out throughout the hall.

"The hell was that?"

"Who's making that noise, eh?"

"Tryin to sleep…"

"You'll be quiet now, the lot of you, or you'll all be beaten!" the man who stood at her cell door shouted in a monstrous voice. All complaints were silenced at once. The man now turned his attention back to the blonde haired, green eyed creature who shook in terror at his presence, wild-eyed and lips trembling, crying softly. He, Avantus Saemon, looked perfectly well-groomed compared to the woman, compared to Antoinetta Marie. He was filthy, sweaty this late at night and covered with old dirt. A miner and prison guard, he was always covered in soot during his prison shifts, and smelled heavily of old ore. Compared to the terrified, bruised and recently bloodied Marie, he was very well groomed indeed. The dark haired, fat faced beast of a man clanked his way into her cell, his silver and gold armor gleaming threateningly in the firelight of the torch he carried. "Morning," he said to her again, grinning. Black ore stained his teeth.

Her hands were shaking so violently. She wanted to scream. Must scream! But who would come? Who would come and why? Her body felt so frail. Weeks she had been starved…weeks had she been beaten…and weeks had she been raped. All by this man and his friends. Never did it stop. Never was it allowed to stop. They fed her on scraps. They bloodied her when they got bored. They raped her, one by one, when they were angry with their wives, or just wanted some variety… to them, she was a tool, a backup plan, only to be cared for at the bare minimum… Soon, they would murder her. They would get away from it too. The Captains would not care. Chancellor Ocato did not care. And the damnable Uriel Septim, emperor of Hell on Tamriel, did not care. She wished she could kill them all. Wanted to break them and munch on them and make them die, die, die, die, die, die…

And her only crime had been stealing a few apples. Apples! A starving woman, condemned to the most horrible punishments imaginable, over two apples. Delos Fandas had attacked her the moment he had caught her, the bastardly Dunmer. Attacked her with a lightning bolt to the chest! As she lay on the floor, incapacitated, head spinning, the publican had run out into the streets, yelling for the guards to come. Never had she imagined her steal away into the Feed Bag would end like this…

"Feeding time," Avantus said to her, grinning. All that Marie could register in mental response was that he had come dressed in armor: he did not mean to rape her tonight. Therefore, it would either be a beating…or something worse. Flexing her muscles, closing her eyes, she tensed, ready for it.

"Just kill me this time," she begged weakly. Her voice was oddly strangulated. Indeed, she could not remember the last time she had actually spoken. Had it been weeks? What did she have to say these days… and who to?

"Kill you?" Avantus repeated, snorting. "Why? I like you, Antoinetta. I like you a lot. I would never think of killing someone as beautiful as you, now would I? That wouldn't do well for me at all. I can't do that. I need you, Antoinetta. Just saying your name brings me so much joy, can you feel it? Can you hear my heart thumping hard?"

"P-please… kill me…" She did not have the strength to fight him. Did not have the strength to do anything. She would die at any moment. She had felt her body shutting down all week. Breathing alone was a chore, at every second, and it hurt so badly to do so… When he finished with her tonight, she would die. At last, oh at sweet last, she would die.

"Feeding time now lass, be a good girl and stay still…"

"Why do you do this?" she whispered, unable to get any louder. Her throat hurt just to whisper alone.

"Why do I do this?" he breathed back, his eyes mad, a wicked grin on his face. "Because I enjoy it. And I can get away with it, lass. But more, it's because I'm bored. Funny, that, isn't it?" He took one step further. "Very funny, aint it?" He took another step. She was screaming inside. She would die. She was going to die. This gutter of a prison would become her tomb. They would dispose of her body, and claim she had broken out. No one would ever know their crimes. No one would ever know or remember Antoinetta Marie. "I aint got much in this city, lass. Aint got a proper wife, no, and aint got a proper son. Damn fool's got his heart set out on being an adventurer, and I'm stuck here, in this dump, having to smell up the rats that infest it. I aint got a life ahead of me. I aint got a purpose. So I'll play with you, Marie. I'll play with you and pull you apart until you're no more, and maybe… maybe my life will have purpose, you know!" He let out a boisterous laugh.

"I don't want…no…kill…" She tried to form a sentence. But what sentence? The words came out of her non-sensibly. They meant nothing to her, and scared her, they did. Words like "kill" did not get thrown about lightly. She needed a miracle now. An angel. She needed an angel desperately.

Please, Mara, have mercy on me… This she could comprehend inside of her mind. Praying to Mara, the Divine goddess of love, she felt the tiniest slither of peace as she awaited death. Mara, who had stayed with her in a single verse that had gotten her through a dark childhood: ""Come to me, Mara, for without you, I might forget the ways of our fathers, and preening by the light of latest fashion, my words might tremble like the thin reeds of novelty in the tempest of enthusiasms." She began to say the verse over and over inside her head, praying it desperately, calling out to Mara to come to her, and to save her. PLEASE SAVE ME! PLEASE SAVE ME! She craved death…and she feared death. She hated it and wanted it. Must run from it by running to it! This was the state of her mind in this moment, and documented, it perhaps would fester, should it not? To poison a flower field and make it ghastly to walk through, so that the only reminder of the flowers would be the memories of the visitor… while the death of that place remained forever.

"Here, Foyo!" Avantus suddenly called out, clapping his armor lightly. Pitter pattering sounded at once, and she fearfully looked doorward. Around the cell door ran inside a large, dark furred wolf. It was savage in its face, its teeth bared and its eyes leering as it growled at the blonde pray before it. If she could have screamed, she would have. Of course, screaming surely would have been a relief. The pain she felt…screaming may very well make her die. But she could not. She could only make the most pained, guttural sounds as she stared at the wolf, and the wolf stared at her. Saliva flooded from its lips. It looked starved too. She noted the distinct rib cage, and how it protruded. It features were set in. Never had she seen anything more ravenous. "Meet Foyo, Marie. I've wanted to introduce you to him for the longest time. But have no fear… he's trained not to attack unless I command him…he will also attack if I myself am attacked. So you see…you, in this moment, are quite safe…" He nudged the wolf in the side.

The beast pounced. Marie had no time to react (nor strength) as the great beast leapt upon her chest and pinned her down. Her head scraped against the stone wall as she slid, and she felt skin removed in sickening pain.

CURSE YOU, MARA! CURSE YOU!

Its paws pressed into her chest, and its fangs sunk into her left breast. She could not jerk at all…could not fight. Its teeth were latched in tight and her blood was flowing. Her muscle and tendon had been torn. It was eating and gnawing her alive!

MARA…DIVINES…CURSE YOU ALL! CURSE YOU ALL! They were useless. They cared for her not, were false idols… she would die cursing their names…

"Eat her, Foyo! Eat her, boy, that's right!" Avantus was laughing, leaning against the wall, his face frozen in absolute delight. So much so was his joy that he cared little for the world around him, his every manner of attention fixated on his victim. So much so, that he never registered the dark shadow approaching slowly from behind. "Eat her! Kill her! Kill her!"

Marie saw the dark shadow, through all her agony… saw the shadow and the glint of the knife in its hand. That glint became absolute, when it sailed through the air, directly at her. Her mind shattered in its own scream, every sense of body and form collapsing. The knife seemed to sail as if in stasis, captured by an invisible force that she was not allowed to see, but which distorted all around her. Perception, Marie… Perception!

The wolf suddenly ceased. Avantus gasped, stepping backwards in shock. Marie's breath was caught. A long, silver blade was sticking into the back of the creature's head. It was no longer focused on mauling her, but instead it was blinking, unbelieving… its mouth opened, letting out a faint note of concern, and then it toppled over, rolling across the floor. It rested against the wall and passed away with that concerned look still on its face, blood dribbling from the knife stuck in its skull.

Avantus opened his mouth, his eyes wide… but then a second blade came out from the darkness behind him. This one crossed Avantus's throat only once. The slice that followed, Marie would never forget. Years down the road, Marie would lay in bed at night, and she would still have wet dreams of Avantus's throat being slit. It was enough to make any woman orgasm.

The blade sliced through Avantus's thyroid gland, and the look on the man's face… it was pure shock, and absolute disbelief. He clutched at deep gash in his throat, feeling with horror the blood that flowered like a waterfall. He slowly…so very slowly… turned to face his murderer.

"You may die now, Mr. Saemon. I bid you good-night." A hand pressed lightly against Avantus's forehead, and the man toppled over, falling against his murdered wolf, dead as the beast. Marie weakly looked up, hardly daring to comprehend or believe the miracle that had just fallen into her cell. A man stood there, at the door, the absolutely bloody knife still in hand. He considered her, staring up at him. He was shrouded in black, his cloak long, his hood drawn over his head, and yet his face peered through. She knew already that he was Imperial. His eyes were black as his robes, and his skin matched this with only the slightest pale hint. There were shadows under those eyes. Shadows of long days and long nights.

Marie knew this man. He was Jenthaeus, the god of power. He was Nubeaous, the Caretaker of Women. He was Attuck, the blade of Stonefire. Or perhaps, he was so much more… in that moment, all of these titles seemed appropriate. He was a savior… he had saved her…

She tried to open her mouth, to speak to the angel… but still she could not. The angel took a step forward, his cloak swinging as if caught in some invisible wind that enveloped him. The firelight of Avantus's fallen torch illuminated his face even more, and to her, his features were terrifying… terrifying, and beautiful. Angel…

"You've suffered a terrible fate, haven't you?"

When he spoke to her, Marie knew only comfort. His voice was dark as he was. It was riddled with an aged killer, with a trained bloodletter. Sinister…threatening…and so cold. She longed to hear him speak again. He bent down before her, placing his black gloved hand upon her face.

"Ahraan Govey!" He spoke in a language lost and unknown, something without meaning to her. At least, at first. Meaning to her came when the blue light emitted from her body, and the most powerful sense of peace washed over her. She felt a coolness so powerful, like wind of water, rushing through her veins, through her muscles, and through her very brain. Restoration was imminent. She felt empowered. The pain of her wounds melted away. All manner of tears and shreds dissipated. She breathed out, gasping with new found life. Her hand gripped his arm tightly, all manner of breath and strength returning to her.

"Oh my…Divines… what….!?" She squeezed his arm tightly. "What did you do?"

He considered her. "Saved your life, by the look of it." He did not smile. He did not falter from his dark, concentrated expression. "Enjoy it. I'll leave the cell door open. I figure you have a lot you'd like to do, concerning the guards of this place….or perhaps freedom. Whatever you wish, I don't care. I've done my job here."

"What job!? Who are you!?" She could scream in ecstasy. She could talk again, without pain. She felt like she could leap up and run a mile. Indeed, she did jump to her feet, standing straight and facing him. He began to turn away. "Please!" she begged of him. "Who are you!?"

He stopped for a moment, looking around. "I…am Lucien Lachance. Speaker of the Dark Brotherhood…"

She gasped, taking a few steps back. The Dark Brotherhood… the merciless guild of cutthroats and assassins who relished on death and murder… This angel, who stood before her, her savior…he was one of them! Where fear of stuttering should have been, instead there came a laugh. Her laugh. She was laughing! How about that?

"Lucien," she whispered, relishing his name. "Lucien Lachance…" What a fun name to say. What a glorious name to have escape her lips. "You…killed him?" She pointed at Avantus's corpse. A mad grin split across her face. "That was…beautiful…"

He turned wholly towards her now, a smile now on his lips as well. She became breathless at his smile. It was art.

"Indeed?"

"Why did you save me?"

Lucien sniffed, still smiling. "A contract. On his head. A former prisoner of this place. Avantus brutalized many of the bastardly souls that passed through this prison. I suppose he never anticipated that one of them would have the gall to pray to the Night Mother on his behalf. His erotic murder is done, and thus is my job here. Enjoy your freedom… I won't lock the door." He began to walk away from her, but she desperately ran to him.

"Wait… I want to go with you!"

Lucien turned only once more, and barely at that. "Go? With me? How laughable." He stroked her cheek with his hand. "Red, dear. Red path leads to Lucien Lachance. See me then."

"Red path…what?"

But before she could get an answer out of him, the angel suddenly vanished. Where he was, he seemed enveloped and eaten by the very air around him. He faded into nothingness, dissolved into everything. She gasped, clawing forward, grabbing at the place where he had vanished…but he was nowhere. Only empty air. As she stood, shaking on the spot, wondering where he could have gone, she suddenly heard his voice. It sounded far away.

"Brutalize…" Just one word. One beautiful set of three syllables. She dropped to her knees, grinning, clawing at the floor. The firelight still burned happily in this cell. She turned to look at Avantus's body. Savage pleasure peaked within her, and she crawled like an animal towards him. Throwing her hand around the hilt of the knife that stuck into the wolf (that knife left behind by the angel), and she yanked it out of the wolf hard, slicing through its skin and fur so beautifully. A mad expression overtook her face as she stared the knife down. Then, she began to talk to it.

"Brutalize," she whispered, rubbing the flat end of the blade as if it were her own child. She closed her eyes in satisfaction, her chest heaving. "Mutilate." Her legs crossed tightly. "Yes… I could do that…follow the angel's words…" She rolled Avantus onto his back, through great effort against his heavy armor. His eyes stared up at her in disbelief, the large slit in his throat so…gorgeous. She prodded at the bloody wound with her fingers lightly. It felt… funny. Like ha ha funny. She giggled, digging her fingers in more tightly.

"Ha ha!" She could do nothing but laugh. Her laughter echoed down the length of the hall. What few prisoners lay awake now, they all heard it… and were all terrified. There was utter madness in that laugh, utter loss of sense and reason in its notes. And with the laughter came a new sound. A slicing sound. A squirging sound. That nasty, slimy sound of mutilated flesh and tissue as she sawed, sawed, sawed.

First his neck. Then his lips. His nose, eyes, ears, they all flowered. After they were removed, Marie slowly cut up his face, severing it and marking it well with blood and boil. Her art piece must be left unrecognizable. Avantus reborn! The savage grin never left her face as she mutilated his, stabbing it ferociously, blood splattering the walls and her body as she cut, cut, stabbed, sliced, and ripped with fingers and knife alike. When she finished at last, he was left as nothing. Looked like nothing, was nothing.

She stood up, all blooded and soiled. The knife of the angel spoke to her then.

You know… he could only be number one. What limits would hold you back?