This is the first part of a two part story I want to do. This one in Oblivion and the next in Skyrim. This features normal people (not hero's) involved in the Dark Brotherhood plot. Review so I know you're interested.
Lana Sullivan was born under a dark star, in the month when the leaves started to rot off the trees. It was an ill-omen.
On this night, many years later, Lana's unfortunate time of birth seemed to manifest itself in her every action. A woman in her early twenties, Lana crept slowly across the shop she had grown up tending, the shadows of the night helping cover her crimes. The Khajiit caravan noisily moved outside, causing Lana's heart to race with the need to hurry, least she be abandoned by Do-Jaqas, who had promised to accompany her out of Anvil to Chorrel and beyond.
She stilled her hand on the iron key she was slowly placing inside of the lock to the chest that held her Stepmother's savings. Lana reminded herself that she deserved this. Years of virtual slavery, ignorantly serving the woman who was supposed to protect her, entitled Lana to some of the profits from the shop? Her Stepmother had taken the money from her father's moderate business and made it thrive, sure, but the frequent beatings and belittling language thrust at Lana had left the girl broken and afraid to leave. Afraid until the night the young Imperial named Julius that Lana had been seeing loudly bedded her Stepmother. Lana had laid awake and listened to their lovemaking, forging a deal with herself to leave.
For years now Do-Jaqas had been whispering at her window that it was time to leave. His family's yearly rounds of Cyrodill always brought him back to Anvil in the spring. The night after Julius had slept with her Stepmother, Lana found herself intoxicated by his honey words, and she vowed to them both she would follow him the next year when his caravan returned. Lana feared her Stepmother would suspect her desire to run away and do everything she could to squelch it. Luckily Lana's Stepmother took Lana's continued occupation of the small room at the top of the stairs as proof that she had finally crushed Lana's spirit.
Now was the time to put that behind her. Lana was no longer the 'worthless wretch,' she had long been told she was. Julius' assurances of her beauty and worth, combined with Do-Jaqas yearly attention had given Lana just enough faith to believe she could secure her freedom from this woman. Indeed it was foolish of her adoptive mother to believe she could ever hold sway against a Sullivan for long. Sinister rumors of how the family shop was purchased and fortune was made filtered down to Lana, despite people's best efforts to keep it secret. Fated to be bad by blood or birth, Lana was set to remedy a lifetime of incarceration, and the contents of the box would buffer her from the cruelty of life away from home for some time.
As she slipped a heavy money bag onto her belt, Lana heard a shuffling noise and turned to see the dark haired profile of her Imperial bred Stepmother, standing in the darkness watching her. Dark angry eyes screamed disappointment at Lana as if word were not enough to describe the young woman's behavior.
"So you'll be off then to where exactly?" Her Stepmother chastised. "Nowhere. Not when I call the guards and have you thrown in jail for stealing from me. I'll give you a second chance Lana. Beg my forgiveness and replace the money. I'll only deduct your full wages for the next six months as punishment. You're a pitiful fool to think you can make it on your own."
"I would swear you worship Molag Bal the way you hold me here," Lana whispered.
The look on her Stepmother's face darkened, and Lana turned her head unable to continue to behold the dark focused smile.
"Daedra worship would be nothing compared to what past members of the Sullivan family have been involved in," Lana's Stepmother responded.
The matron then extended her long fingers and closed them over Lana's fist, which was still holding tightly to the money purse on her sash. The older woman then started to pull Lana's hand to her slowly, taking the purse with her, as the strings around Lana's belt gave way. Lana watched their hands moving in unison as if time was warped around it, presenting it retarded of its normal flow.
Her eyes growing wide, Lana realized if her Stepmother got hold of the money, she'd never see it again. Powerlessness was the result of the completion of this gesture. Refusing to accept her continued bondage Lana pulled the knife she had placed in the holster on the back of her belt, and drove the blade forward blindly.
The steel drove itself into the neck of Lana's Stepmother with more force than the young woman would have ever imagined necessary. Skin it seems, was made to resist puncture, the muscle sucked and held the dagger in place. This didn't slow Lana, who was now incensed with fear and bloodlust. Something about the helplessness of the ghoulish woman who had long tortured her filled Lana with an energy that sucked up from the very earth and into her body.
Dashing her arm back, Lana took the knife and sliced vertically against her Stepmother's neck, the blood flying having an instant narcotic effect on Lana. So the young woman picked up the pace of her attack, moaning as each stroke ripped a ribbon of gore along her Stepmothers clothes, onto the walls, onto Lana's body.
Once the woman had fallen, Lana inhaled deeply and enjoyed the sight before her. Her body shaking with passion, Lana breathed in, a fire in her mind and loins making her wish she'd savored the moment more. Why hadn't she done this years ago? It was so easy to set herself free. It was madness that she hadn't before now, and Lana squeezed her thighs to try to control the burning sensation between them.
"I now pray to a blacker God than before," Lana mumbled, and in her head she heard a dry old woman's voice confirm it with a quite 'welcome, my child.'
Cracking her neck Lana noticed the coin purse in her spare hand, somehow she had held on to it the entire time. Then the amount of blood covering her hand alarmed Lana, who dashed into her room to change into one of the outfits she had planned on leaving. She had time to pull the fresh clothes on, fit her belt, and toss her dirty dress into the fire, before she heard the song of the Khajiit named Do-Jaqas letting her know the last of the caravan was approaching the city gate.
She had very little time.
So that the guards would not suspect and hunt her, Lana quickly returned to her room, over turned the bed, drug some of the items around, and made it look like a struggle. She then flipped several items on the counter, and tossed the money box on the floor. Thieves and bandits were uncommon inside of the city, but her Stepmother had no shortage of enemies. The guards wouldn't waste much time on this now.
Lana ran out the door towards the caravan, catching Do-Jaqas' paw in her hand just as he started out of the gate into the countryside. The light of dawn began to glow red on the edges of the sky and the Khajiit mumbled in her ear, "I was beginning to think you wouldn't make it. Tell me, did Lana prove her cleverness and take her inheritance from that old crow?"
In response Lana patted the coin purse on her side and Do-Jaqas spread his fangs into a toothy smile. "I knew the hairless one had cunning," he purred. "I trust you had no problem with the old crow?"
"She tried to peck out my eyes," Lana said, remembering the murder with an erotic shiver, "But I sliced off her head before she could attack me."
Do-Jaqas seemed to consider this for awhile, his ears twitching in alarm, but he quickly patted Lana on the back with his large furry paw in assurance. They walked the day side by side and said little of it. The whole walk Lana obsessed over the passion with which she had emancipated herself, trying to dismiss the burning need the death had filled inside her.
That night the Khajiit caravan made camp, and Lana came to realize she had not packed a bedroll or tent. Do-Jaqas laughed at her predicament. After eating the stew provided by the caravan as payment for guard duty, Do-Jaqas offered to alleviate Lana's plight with the use of his own tent.
"I think you'll find it keeps you warm," The russet furred feline enticed.
Lana stood meekly and joined him inside. At first she was shy to his affection, but she reminded herself of his help, and figured her body would be little price in repayment for his friendship. Plus she had already wasted its 'purity' on the disloyal Julius, so sex would not hurt or attract predictors with the blood. It wasn't that she didn't want to sleep with Do-Jaqas, the thought had crossed her mind many of the nights that she spoke to him from the window on the bottom floor of the shop, his muscles causing his fur to ruffle as he talked. Instead she simply regretted that she wasn't in love with him and that whatever they had would probably end when she got to Chorrol and looked for work.
The soft pats of his muscular paws kneaded against her flesh, dragging the tips of his claws across her skin, threatening to tear her open like she'd torn open her Stepmother. The thought made her body clinch then shake. The memory of killing that awful woman made her yield to her lovers touch with a ferocity that surprised the both of them. She rebuked herself for it only briefly, but forgot the guilt as soon as she felt the soft hairs of his body gliding across her skin.
She reached up and marveled at the feeling of his anatomy under the fine fuzz. Unable to control himself Do-Jaqas placed her hand on his erection, both as a promise and a warning. She gasped as she felt the hard ridges around the head of it and down the shaft. Lana knew that Khajiit anatomy was likely to be foreign to hers; she had never, for example, heard of a half Khajiit half human. On this night she discovered that luckly they seemed to share the same basic parts of reproduction. Still the roughness of his penis made Lana worry, and she looked up at him biting her lip, hoping for a reassurance.
"I will have to be gentler with you than our women," he spoke, purring as she gave him a firm tug. "If you were Khajiit I would climb onto your back, bite your neck, and hold on with my claws while I fucked you hard. I'm afraid if I did that to you little human girl, you might not recover."
She nodded, and pulled the head closer to her wet folds. He pressed the pads of his paws against his stomach, and squeezed them in towards the center in a fluid massaging motion that relaxed Lana some. She grimaced as she placed his raggedness inside of her, the harder parts grating at the flesh like she imagined it was meant to do. He then started to rock himself in a firm rhythm, his claws occasionally poking into her flesh but not enough to draw blood. He was obviously forcing himself not to lose control.
She reached up and ran her fingers through the fur on his sides, then sunk her fingernails into his skin. The Khajiit hissed, but not in a dangerous way and then leaned forward, taking her harder. She was glad she had enough lubrication to make the friction of his lovemaking bearable, and she grasped at him again with her fingernails. This time Do-Jaqas responded by biting her on the shoulder, drawing blood from four fang prints in her flesh. Lana called out in pain, but found that this sensation only coaxed her own orgasm from her body, and in turn forced Do-Jaqas to release himself across her belly and breasts.
The Khajiit then, grabbed a piece of cloth from the side of the tent and tossed it to her.
"So odd making love to someone with only two nipples," Do-Jaqas kidded and Lana laughed. They made short work of cleaning themselves then fell asleep.
In the morning Lana examined the bite marks, and realized they were just deep enough to scar but not cause any real damage. She wasn't bothered by it, but wished Do-Jaqas had restrained himself more. They continued on the road to Chorrol from Anvil, each night spent in passion much like the first night, only from that point on Do-Jaqas did not bite Lana at climax.
A few days from the city gates of Chorrol and Do-Jaqas had started to spend the night outside of the tent. He didn't say it but Lana could tell he was tired of holding himself back so he wouldn't cause her harm. Some nights she'd watch him talk to the females of his own species when he thought she wouldn't notice. These women were sometimes submissive, but always the equal of the men. She could imagine they were violent lovers and she wished she could give Do-Jaqas the satisfaction any of the Khajiit women in the caravan might provide. Still, at least this part of the adventure had brought her pleasure, and the addition of a nice steel sword and buckler from one of the traders Do-Jaqas knew well.
Chorrol was a pretty enough town, but lacked the white limestone sunniness of Anvil. Lana made her exit from the Khajiit caravan with a warm hug for Do-Jaqas and polite handshakes with the traders she had become friendly with. They all seemed to part ways with a knowing smile that almost embarrassed Lana, but she ignored it, figuring it would be at least a year until she saw these people again. You forget a lot in a year.
Lana made her way down the cobble stone streets to an Inn called The Grey Mare a dilapidated structure of old wood. Inside she made arrangements for a room and inquired about work with the owner who pointed her in several helpful directions. She thanked him, appreciative that he was so helpful to the working class people who stayed inside his walls, and made her way to her room.
As Lana settled into bed, she felt a prickly chill to the air. She sat up for a moment, almost afraid the shadows were watching her. Perhaps it was the first night alone since the event that had changed her life, but something about the Inn seemed off to Lana. Bringing the blanket up to her chin, the girl wondered if she should cry for the innocence she had lost the night she slaughtered her Stepmother. She looked up at the wood beams that sagged in the ceiling and wondered if Akatosh or any of the Nine Divines would ever accept her into their temple again if she didn't repent. Still she felt no remorse, and thinking about it caused Lana to fight back the tension caused by the murder that she had believed to have ebbed that first night with Do-Jaqas.
When sleep came to her it was restful, until she heard a soft creek on the boards alerting her that she was not alone. Darting up in bed Lana grabbed the dagger from the nightstand, only to find the empty hilt. So instead of pointing the knife at his gut she crouched on the floor ready to slap the stranger with the leather case if need be. His presence reanimated the feelings she had hoped to burry and she found herself piqued with excitement at the chance for another kill.
The man's first response was a deep chuckle. His baritone ringing in her ears, not with mockery, but a kind of morose pleasure.
"You sleep rather peacefully…for a murderer," the man gloated as he stood over her, betraying no fear that she would lash out at him with her empty holster. His black robes shifted and he made a graceful gesture towards Lana, who was now wide eyed with fear that he would betray her secret to the authorities.
"Oh don't worry my child," the man assured her, "I do not mean these words as threat or insult. Rather I take pleasure in one so enticed by the act of taking a life and the Night Mother has taken notice also. She is pleased. Your lack of conscious for your actions would serve my organization well, that is if you are interested in what I have to propose."
In awe of the man's words, but still fruitlessly clutching her empty knife holder, Lana straightened herself to face the cloaked man who stood across from her in the room. He was a little taller than she was, so she craned her neck to look more imposing. To show her lack of fear Lana stood, uncaring if the man saw her body through her flimsy nightgown. Something about his words smoldered inside of her, forcing her to listen. The reaction to his voice was the same as the way she felt after had murdered.
The stranger's lips twitched at this, the emotion in his own pair of brown eyes betraying a sympathetic understanding of her current mood. He almost seemed to match her intensity, and the room seemed to heat up with their combined essence.
Forcing himself to lean away from Lana the stranger's grin parted to ooze out the words, "You silence is the symphony of death itself, composed by Sithis my dread lord. The Irony is not lost on me that I come to you now as Speaker for the Dark Brotherhood, breaking the silence I so enjoy. My name is Lucien LaChance and my voice is the will of the Night Mother.
She has taken notice of you my child. She observed you when you killed without remorse or pity. She delighted in the pleasure the blade brought to your soul. She has beckoned that I make you an offering…an opportunity if you will. A chance to join our unusual family."
Still bewitched by the man's voice, something strange and sacred calling to her from his offer, Lana relaxed herself and leaned against the wall. She extended her hand in a gesture to continue, and LaChance once again smiled at her with twisted approval.
"There is a man named Rufio at the Inn of Ill Omen, on the Green Road north of Bravil," he continued. "Kill him, and your initiation into the Dark Brotherhood will be complete. As a token of our interest we offer you this virgin blade, it thirsts for his blood."
The dark cloak parted, and Lucien LaChance extended his hand to reveal the black handle of a long dagger with a wicked curve at the tip. Lana reached forward slowly, her fingers trailing along his glove as she shifted the dagger hilt into her palm, and slowly drug the blade along Lucien's arm, not cutting him, and not daring to take her eyes off of his. They were close now; Lana and Lucien, the breath from his nose escaping onto her face, causing her body to reminding her of its erupting want. She seemed to feel this sentiment once again mirrored in Lucien, but he retained too much control to betray it outwardly.
Pressing the blade into her scabbard, Lana closed her eyes for a second and exhaled a long, heavy breath, and then opened her eyes again to see Lucien still there, watching her. She had half expected him to melt into the shadows and be gone by now, but here he was.
Lucien took the opportunity to speak once again. "Go with the morning, and when the deed is done I will appear before you again once you sleep in a place I deem safe. When I return to you this next time I will welcome you with the love of our family."
"Love so happily won," Lana said with a weary smile.
"Kill well my dear," Lucien said, and stepped backwards onto the window sill and disappeared into the shadows on the street below.
Lana walked to the window and looked out into the night, hoping for one last glance at the strong assassin who had beckoned to her on this night. Finding nothing, she closed the sill, pressed the bar that kept it shut and returned to bed. She dreamed that night of the road ahead, of the murder of poor Rufio, and admittance into a family that would not strangle her with tyranny.