Disclaimer: I do not own Oblivion!
This is been sitting on my laptop for a while, and I thought it was about time I put it on :) I hope you guys enjoy it! Feedback is really appreciated.

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Cold Embrace

Chapter One: Bad News

Tsrazami was not a very happy Khajiit.

Having to travel all the way from Morrowind's Vivec to Cyrodiil's Cheydinhal mostly on foot didn't help. Of course, she should've been thankful that the Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary she was searching for wasn't in Anvil – she wouldn't even have bothered trying to get there if that was the case. Gaining permission to travel on boat from Ebonheart in Vvardenfell to the mainland of Morrowind had been difficult enough after the Nerevarine's questing to the continent of Akavir – the native Dunmer and Ordinators of the temple had been trying desperately to stop the Nerevarine from travelling to the extremely dangerous continent, to no avail.

Once on the mainland, Tsrazami had to go the rest of the way on foot. The various creatures in her way weren't the problem. You may be wondering if a furry creature such as Tsrazami could get blisters on her 'heels'. Well, in fact, as she found out during several hours of painful movement, yes, Khajiit could jolly well get horrible blisters.

"This is a bad idea, Tsrazami," her dear friend, Miun-Gei, an Argonian associate, had warned her, "and I'm surprised that one as powerful as the Listener isn't arranging transportation for you! I do not wish for you to find out that us Argonians and Khajiit get the worst blisters in the whole of Tamriel!"

"Tsrazami thinks that beings such as ourselves won't get blisters, our hackles are higher than the oddly fitting boots we wear!" Tsrazami scoffed, not caring for her ever precautious friend's theories. He always had presumptions about everything, and most of them turned out to be wrong anyway.

Oh, why didn't I listen? Tsrazami growled to herself.

Thankfully, as she passed over the tips of the Velothi mountain range, she could see the beautiful view of the city known as Cheydinhal below. Her curiosity peaked, however, when she squinted and could see an old ruined fortress just slightly east of the city. Consulting the map given to her by her own Speaker back in Vvardenfell, she knew the fortress to be named Fort Farragut. Also, on the map, it was marked as the Dark Brotherhood headquarters. Indeed, she'd have to question the Listener about it later.

What pleasantly surprised Tsrazami was that she wasn't going all the way to Bravil to meet Ungolim. It was nice to know that perhaps the Listener had put in the effort of meeting her closer to the Morrowind borders for once.

After three days of travel, she arrived at the gates of Cheydinhal, battered, exhausted and in need of a punching bag with the Listener's face on it. Ungolim could've at least arranged transport for his Murderers, even if they dwelled in the Dunmers' native land!

"Ma'am, are you alright?" the guard just outside the gates asked her, worriedly. You didn't get many visitors to Cheydinhal looking like they'd just run a marathon from Elsweyr to Skyrim – especially not in the middle of the night, like now.

"This Khajiit is absolutely fine, Imperial," Tsrazami snapped, "just open that gate! Or, by..." Whoa. She'd nearly said 'by Sithis' – if she had, the guard would've alerted the authorities, no doubt. When you're angry, Tsrazami, do not invoke the wrath of Sithis, the Khajiit rebuked herself silently.

"Uh, y-yes Ma'am," the guard stuttered, and called timidly above to some unseen men on the battlements to open the gates. What a shy little man. From what Tsrazami could see underneath his helmet, he was young and, to her surprise, a Breton, not an Imperial – which explained why he was so short compared to her. He was probably new to the guard of Cheydinhal. As she passed by him on her way through the gate, his pale blue eyes watched her nervously... as if he suspected something of her, but was too scared to alert any other guards.

Surely Tsrazami wasn't that intimidating? Ah well, at least she was wearing one of Miun-Gei's Enchanter robes instead of her Dark Brotherhood armour. Now, wouldn't it be fun walking into a tavern wearing that. It would be like bursting into Adamus Phillida's chambers wearing a shirt that had the words plastered over the top I worship Sithis and the Night Mother! and then screaming into his ear until he woke up and arrested you, not only for trespassing and harassment, but for being a member of the Dark Brotherhood too.

Tsrazami arrived at the Abandoned House, no problem. The hostility in the air that she gave off probably warded off any friendly greetings from the townspeople. She picked the lock on the front door and slid inside. She found her way to the hole in the wall at the bottom of the basement and followed the red-lit tunnel until she came to the unholy door of the Cheydinhal Sanctuary. It glowed scarlet, its illustration of the Night Mother and her children pulsing like a supernatural vision. She put her paw to the handprint at the top of the door and heard the unearthly, divine voice of Sithis speak, What is the colour of night?

"Sanguine, my Brother," Tsrazami whispered, and took a step back as the door creaked open, allowing her entrance to the Sanctuary. She stepped inside, and jumped as the door to the Sanctuary slammed shut loudly behind her, the sound bouncing off the cold, unforgiving stone walls that surrounded the yellow-furred Khajiit. She wasn't used to such fanciness back in Vivec – the best entrance they had was one leading to the sewers, for the Night Mother's sake!

She'd been told to expect the door to give a question, her to give an answer, and if the answer was correct, to receive a 'welcome home'. She didn't hear the ghastly door utter another word – and maybe that was because she was so obviously not home, not used to this Sanctuary. She wouldn't be welcome at all if it wasn't for her being part of the Dark Brotherhood, despite her fairly low rank.

"Don't be alarmed," a feminine voice said, and Tsrazami was startled again, immediately contradicting what the person had just told her. She'd been in the sanctuary for, what, two seconds, and already the place was full of surprises. "We know our Cyrodiil family customs are slightly different from those of Morrowind."

"Are you criticising the Morrowind Brotherhood already?" Tsrazami hissed, angry again. She knew that the family in Cyrodiil were going to be stuck up anyway, but to be pointing out the flaws of others already was just a little over the top. "Listen here..." she began to rant, but was silenced by the hand that the woman who had spoken raised.

"Do not speak ill towards other family members, novice." The woman's hood hung loosely down the back of her black robes. Her skin, probably once bronze, was an unhealthy yellow, proving that she was one of the Altmer, if her height and the pointy ears that protruded from her curtain of chocolate hair didn't confirm that already.

"I've come here to speak with Ungolim," Tsrazami snarled, "not to argue with an Altmer who is just a little too high and mighty for her own good."

"Ungolim?" the Altmer female echoed, taken aback, ignoring the rest of what the blatantly annoyed Khajiit said. "Ungolim is dead."

Apart from Tsrazami ears flattening and her mouth slightly hanging open, she gave a reaction of, "Oh."

"Yes, 'oh', indeed, Khajiit," the Altmer said dryly. "I assume you mean to speak to the live Listener, rather than the deceased one."

"Uh, yes." Tsrazami took in the black robes that the woman was wearing, compared to her own dark leather armour. "You're... a Speaker?"

"Yes," the Altmer Speaker replied sharply, "now come with me. You wish to share news with the Listener?"

There wasn't much Tsrazami could say to that, apart from a solemn nod of the head, now that she was finally here to speak to the Listener, only to find that it wasn't the Ungolim that she had met just once and absolutely adored. However, she would mourn later, for she had important information to deliver.

They walked down seemingly endless spooky corridors, lit by various candles and burning torches along the walls. Shadows seemed to constantly dart and scatter at the edges of the Khajiit's excellent vision, but when she turned her head to see what the movement was, she was always met by simply soft candlelight, casting the countless nooks and crannies of the Sanctuary into dim, mellow light.

It wasn't long before Tsrazami felt the Altmer's eyes burning into her forehead. She looked up and the Altmer glanced away, concentrating on her light footsteps down the passageway. "You've never been in an official Sanctuary before, have you?"

That wasn't true. She had been in one, just the one time, in Old Mournhold. But it hadn't been nearly as beautifully dark as this one. The Sanctuary she had resided in wasn't official – it had been below Vivec's many cantons, deep in the stinking sewers. Granted, it was out of the way; however, it was possibly the most unpleasant place Tsrazami had ever called 'home' in her life. "Of course I have. What stupid member of the Brotherhood hasn't been?"

"Then why do you look so anxious?"

Tsrazami sighed. "Okay, fine, fine. I've been in an official Sanctuary once – but I've still been in one!"

"The one in Old Mournhold, I presume? There aren't many Sanctuaries in Morrowind, what with the Morag Tong always hunting you."

Tsrazami didn't like that the way the Altmer put the emphasis on 'you', as if they weren't part of the same Family. "Yes... but the one in Old Mournhold was more just like a cavern. This Sanctuary is so much more..." The Khajiit tried to find the right word. "So much more ornate."

"Where did you usually live, then, if you didn't have the luxury of a Sanctuary?"

"I lived in a bloody sewer, with some other members of the Brotherhood. It stank so bad that eventually we moved our quarters to a cavern near a little shipping village called Seyda Neen." Tsrazami narrowed her bright green cat eyes. "Why are you so interested in me all of a sudden?"

"It is an assassin's job to not just know everything about their target, but to know everything about their Family," the Altmer responded in a monotone.

Tsrazami gave a chuckle. "I just stick with 'keep your friends close and your enemies even closer'. It's the simplest one to deal with – friends are so much more likely to be hurt by your actions. Enemies... the aim is to hurt them."

A little warmth entered the Altmer's eyes. "I can relate to you there."

"And how is that?"

"I once killed a friend whom I thought was a traitor, only later I found... that he wasn't. In this business, this profession, we always lose friends and we end up... broken and blamed."

Tsrazami was genuinely surprised by the mix of emotions the Altmer was showing. The expression upon her face was pained and the words she spoke were words that should've been cracked with sobs, not spoken in monotone like she was now. It was like all her feelings had been taken away, and she was simply recalling how she had once felt a long time ago.

Just as the Khajiit was about to offer her words of comfort, seeing as the Altmer was struggling to remain composed, she looked up to the left sharply and said, "Here we are."

There was a large arched and open doorway in the left wall of the passageway. She entered and Tsrazami followed her. Before they both entered, the room was alive with chitchat. As soon as they stepped over the threshold the people within immediately fell silent. Their piercing eyes bored into Tsrazami's skull and her usual careless, sassy confidence melted away. There were nine hooded people in all, excluding the Altmer who had guided her here, sat on wooden chairs that were arranged in a semi circle around the centre of the room. There were two chairs free – one near the middle of the semi circle and another at the centre of the room, facing the majority of the other chairs. Tsrazami realised that this must be the whole of the Black Hand of Cyrodiil and their personal Silencers.

"Good evening, Brothers and Sisters," the Altmer greeted them all, drawing up her black hood over her face, shadowing her eyes and highlighting her elevated cheekbones. She took a seat within the semi circle, and Tsrazami realised that the chair in the middle of the room was for her, so that the Listener, Black Hand and their Silencers could question her about the bad news she brought with her. She nervously deposited her tailed rear end on the delicate wooden frame, realising just how out of place she was in her bright green Enchanting robes.

"Greetings, Murderer." The figure nearest to the centre of the semi circle pulled the hood away from her face and indicated with a quick finger motion that the rest of the assassins should do so. Reluctantly, they obeyed.

"Are you the Listener?" Tsrazami blurted out and instantly regretted it as several of the Black Hand shot her murderous glares. If looks could kill... which, in the case of a powerful Mage, they jolly well could... but that wasn't the point.

"Please only speak when spoken to, Murderer, so that we may get this meeting over and done with as soon as possible." The Listener said it calmly, though the fact that the Listener herself was talking directly to Tsrazami made the Khajiit's nerves rattle no ends.

The Listener was an odd person. For a moment Tsrazami thought that she might be a vampire – with the red eyes and pale skin. However, the Listener proceeded to smile as warmly as she could, and the Khajiit was relieved to see that there were no incredibly long incisors sprouting from her gums.

She seemed to have the sharp elven bone structure and eyes of a Dunmer, Tsrazami noticed, and the soft, extremely fair flesh of a Nord. It was an odd mix. Her face was in deep contrast with the usual bluntness of Nord facial features, whilst her skin was quite the opposite of a Dark Elf's. She had unruly, curly black hair that cascaded around her shoulders. Foolish humanoid girls, with their long hair! thought Tsrazami, It must surely get in the way during contracts – and all the blood that must get matted in it! Disgusting!

"What is your name, Murderer?"

"Tsrazami, dear Listener."

"And why have you come here, Tsrazami? What important information is it that you bring?"

The Khajiit hesitated. She knew the Dark Brotherhood was a murderous guild – heck, they were paid for it, and she was part of it! – and wondered momentarily whether any of them were reckless enough to shoot the messenger if they didn't like the news she brought.

"Come on, Tsrazami, you've come too far from Vvardenfell to let me down now," the Listener urged, leaning forward in her chair and getting right in the Khajiit's face. "Tell me. Now."

Tsrazami sighed. "Please, Listener, do not take your anger out on poor Tsrazami, I beg of you." The Khajiit only referred to herself in the third person when she was terribly nervous or suspicious.

The Listener looked mildly surprised, and then smiled reassuringly again. "I wouldn't dare harm a family member unless it was Sithis's will, and He does not beckon for your blood this day. Continue, Tsrazami."

Surely her cheeks hurt eventually from that entire positive attitude? Tsrazami pondered briefly, and then swallowed audibly.

She took a deep breath, and let out in a gasp, "The whole of the Morag Tong Guild has arrived in Cyrodiil. They have gained the legal rights to operate in other provinces than Morrowind, under the condition that they help track down and obliterate the whole of the Dark Brotherhood."

And the meeting erupted into chaos.

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Thanks for reading. I hope you liked it so far :) Reviews are really appreciated, as well as feedback and constructive criticism.