Note: I needed some cheering up today, so I wrote this for a bit of fun. Keep in mind that it's not meant to be 100% true to the lore. As in, I don't think spectacles even existed in Tamriel.
The Speechless Speaker
The dark, robed form of Lucien Lachance stood in the shadows as he watched the newest recruited assassin stalk his target. Thus far, he was proving to be incredibly useful; the woman he had been following not seeming to catch on to the fact that she was being hunted like a wild boar.
However, something seemed off about the entire situation. She had been walking on the winding, barely lit path in the middle of Skingrad for the longest of time. He could not see her face, for her hood had been quite snug around her head. She appeared to be limping. Lucien Lachance smirked. The assassin had been sent to murder a crippled woman? It was too sickening sweet. The assassin lifted up his dagger. His kill would be easy as-
Lucien Lachance watched in disbelief as the newest recruit - a trained assassin - fell to the hands of the mysterious, limping woman. She pulled the dagger out of his body and grabbed onto her back as if it caused her pain. Perhaps this crippled woman was more useful than said assassin that was now dead and silenced on the pathway. Perhaps she, too, had skeletons in her closet. Either way, he knew what had to be done. He followed her the rest of the way home and waited until the dimly lit candle in her window was distinguished.
It was time.
He cast his invisibility spell and sneaked, unseen and unheard, into the house. Approaching her bed, he noted that she was still a mystery; blanket covering her entire body from head to toe. He rubbed his hands together in anticipation. This was, after all, the best part of his job; discovering skilled and determined cold-blooded killers.
Lucien smiled broadly. "You sleep rather soundly for a murderer."
Silence.
"You sleep rather soundly for a murderer."
Silence.
Lucien cleared his throat. "I said, you sleep rather soundly for a murderer."
The silence was agonizing. Lucien rubbed his temples before breaking tradition and unceremoniously approaching the bed and leaning down towards the head of the woman. "You sleep rather soundly for a murderer."
Within moments, the blanket flipped up and landed over the speakers head, whatever he had planned to say seconds before; completely gone. Fed to the wolves.
"Is that you, Norbert?" The woman rasped out, her voice quite hoarse. "Oh, my Norbert!"
Lucien was embarrassed. Beyond embarrassed. He was the speaker for the Dark Brotherhood, but tonight? Tonight was not his night. Especially when he got a good look at the woman before him. The Imperial was around her ninetieth year - perhaps a bit older judging by the wrinkles on her eyes. It actually made him question how the woman could even see around the annoying patches of floppy, sagging skin.
"I knew my Norbert would come see me again," She reached up and grabbed for Lucien's arm. For being elderly, she sure had a strong grip. "Though why this late?"
The speaker shook his head and tried to pull his arm away. "I'm not Norbert, whomever that is."
The old lady squinted - or at least he assumed she squinted. Again; the wrinkles made it hard to distinguish. "Not my Norbert? Then surely you must be a friend of his. Why are you here?"
Despite his confession, she remained holding his arm in what appeared to be a death grip. "I am Lucien Lachance, a speaker for the Dark Brotherh-"
"You have to speak up, dear," She croaked as she moved to sit up. "My hearing isn't what it used to be."
"I am Lucien Lachance! I'm a speaker for the Dark B-"
"Oh! You're that nice gentleman that my Norbert was speaking of," In one quick motion, she tugged his arm down towards her and patted the bed. "Please, please. Have a seat."
Lucien Lachance groaned inwardly. Never had he ever had a conversation quite like this. "Madame, I'm from the Dark Brotherhood."
"Yes, that is a nice neighborhood, Quintus."
The speaker, for once in his life, was speechless. He cleared his throat. "No. Dark Brotherhood."
The old lady 'tsked' him. "Quintus, I heard you the first time."
He placed a hand on his face in defeat. "Ma'am, did you or did you not kill someone earlier?"
"What?"
"Did you kill-"
She perked up. "Of course I took my pills," She dusted off an invisible spec. "What do you take me for? A savage?"
"Ma'am, I come to offer you a family," He scooted back slightly on the bed, but the elderly woman just tugged him closer with a huge smile on her face.
"Oh, don't be shy, dear." She reached her hand out and thumped it along her nightstand, mumbling to herself. "Where did I set those spectacles.."
".. ma'am?"
"Well don't just sit there, Quintus." She snapped. "Assist me for Mara's sake!"
As if his job sprouted wings and flew out the window, he did exactly as she demanded. He reached over and placed the spectacles into her eagerly awaited hands. Perhaps at least she'd be able to see him better. Maybe then she would truly be fearful and take him seriously.
"Oh, Quintus," She spoke as she placed the spectacles on the tip of her nose. "Black doesn't suit you, dear. I'm sure I have something of my dearly departed husband in the closet.. perhaps a bit snug on you-"
"Will you please just listen to me?"
"Boy," She pointed at him and waved her finger. "Don't interrupt your elders."
Lucien piped down. For reasons unknown, she reminded him of his own deceased grandmother. It didn't comfort him. "Now. What was I saying?" She looked over to the Imperial and reached out to pinch his cheeks. "Ah! Norbert did say you were pale for a Redguard, but you're positively white. Are you ill?"
"How many times must I tell you, hag. I'm not-"
"Oh, Quintus! I'm too old for you," She chuckled and touched her own cheeks. "But the flattery is nice. Did I ever tell you how I met my husband? Oh, of course I haven't. Well, I'll have you know I was the prettiest woman in all of Skingrad! In all of Cyrodiil according to my husband. We met when I was walking in the gardens, the sun was shining brightly and the flowers were in full bloom. He called me his sweet Rosie."
Lucien looked up towards the ceiling. "Silence is the symphony of death, the orchestration of Sithis himself. Night Mother, rid me of this pain." He rubbed his temples, but she just kept speaking.
"We were the talk of the town after that. Ohoho. Even trained me in combat." She beamed. "Speaking of which, I killed a horrible sabre cat right before you got here. It's a good thing I did. It could have eaten you in one gulp, Quintus."
Lucien perked up. "What did you say?"
She put a finger to her glasses and pushed them further up her nose. "I said we were the talk of the town after that night."
He shook his head. "No, no. The last part. About the cat."
"Ah! That is a nice hat. Thank you, dear." She smiled brightly as she looked towards the flowery brown hat on her nightstand.
Lucien scratched his head. This woman was not a cold-blooded murderer. She was a senile old lady with great reflexes who mistook an assassin for a sabre cat. The idea was comical. The speaker chuckled at the thought of it. He should have immediately went back to the sanctuary and thrown the job upon someone new, but the old lady was completely harmless. In his book, if she could kill a trained assassin at her age, she could get off the hook.
Lucien stood from the bed, to which the old lady reacted to immediately. "Time to go, Quintus?" She pointed towards the dresser on the far side of the room. "If you would, the book Norbert was looking for is in the top drawer of the dresser. Thank you for coming to get it on such short notice."
Lucien nodded at the old lady and went through the top drawer, repulsed at first by the fluffy undergarments he had to shuffle through to find the book titled, Commentaries on the Mysterious Xarxes 1 by Mankar Camoran. Lucien tilted his head. Perhaps this family meddled in affairs beyond their knowledge. Whatever the matter, he took the book. He was sure his own family might have advice for him on what to do with it. The old lady would probably forget about it all in the morning anyway.
Lucien snapped his head in the direction of the bed once he heard snoring, the woman passed out with her spectacles half-way down her nose. The Imperial sighed and placed his hood back over his head. He opened the door then glanced back at the old woman.
"I bid you farewell," He stuffed the book in his robes. "I do hope we never meet again." With that, he cast his invisibility spell and left the house.
Lucien was many things. Mysterious. Talkative. Persuasive. But never speechless. He reminded himself to never speak of the events that took place that night with the brotherhood. Ever. This was one rumor he would not spread.