Many times, many fellow assassins think many things about the assassins of old. Often they would make up rumours, ways to say they or someone else had one connection to the hero or another. One such rumour would be that Lucien LeChance- the fabled assassin from 405 years ago- was related to the dragonborn. Those many different assumptions of him being her father were indeed false: her parents had died at the "Great war". She saw nothing great about it, even its name had been a running joke for that long that many people used it as an excuse to gain leverage over others, saying that they were there and saw the many horrors a war has to offer. Lucien watched her parents die from the void, how they were mutilated by a thousand arrows and were chopped into tiny little bits and their guts strewn about the area. The very last breath that her mother had was used on a single sentence that had made chills shiver up Lucien's long gone spine. Words he never expected the most feared assassin in all of high rock to say: "Forgive us, Sithis."

For many obvious reasons the dragonborn had been angry at almost everything. She and her parents were all part of the dark brotherhood and her entire family line had been there for as long as she could remember, though she couldn't remember much due to her vampirism. There was at least an upside to it: she had forgotten most of her old life- except her parents- and moved on to be a relentless, freelance and feared assassin. She stuck to the old ways of the assassin and the old prayers that she did each and every night that not even the oldest brotherhood assassin could remember.

Night Mother,

I pray that you will watch over me,

Watch my parents in the void,

Watch over me as i send more souls to the void,

And Hail Sithis.

After all her prayers she killed someone. Not for the night mother, not for Sithis and not even for the brotherhood which she no longer was a part of, but for fun. Fun was a hard thing to do when most of your time is spent in meditation as her parents had taught her and only allowing free time to kill: mercilessly and efficiently. This made her the most feared assassin in the whole of Tamriel, not an easy feat. She never did take a request if it wasn't a challenge- which rarely it was easy- and she never failed. Her victims always had a single calling: a single, purple death bell. A gift from her to them so they travel to the void with it, showing the night mother another one of her kills, which was, right now, totalling in the hundreds. She was very skilled in alchemy. So skilled in fact that she made a poison to paralyse someone for two days, watching them die of hunger before finally slitting his throat with her Daedric dagger- her favourite weapon- and planting the death bell on his lips, sending a message throughout the entire continent: people had better hope that she was not in the area.

"We need her, Astrid." Veezara said again, as if making a point. He had held a certain respect for the amount of kills the dragonborn had made, more than the entire sanctuary had done in two years. Astrid had known this and looked torn: her family were the best assassins in High Rock... and she was the best assassin in the entire continent of Tamriel. She pondered the pros and cons in her head and finally the pros weighed out the cons by a massive factor. The amount of gold the assassin had earned throughout her five hundred years could be very beneficial and somewhat good for them, since they were barely scraping by. The dragonborn's stealth skills would match that of a shadow, sneaking into the very room of a member of the thieves' guild just to answer a question that the thief had asked six days ago. She knew she was also a respected member of the thieves' guild- even knew that she was a nightingale and a follower of Nocturnal, not to mention the guild's leader- and that having another vampire who could outlive everyone to ensure the survival of the brotherhood was also an essential part of a massive pro. Another one was the fact that she used the old ways of an assassin and even followed the tenants as if it were her way of life. Many of them were astonished by the high regard she had for Sithis and the dark brotherhood, considering she was no longer one of them. The reason for this being that the entire sanctuary was destroyed in a raid by the elves that killed her family- The Thalmor.

The only con in her head was the fact that the dragonborn had very unusual ways of praying. She had known that she prayed to the night mother, the same as everyone else had in the brotherhood, but that she always meditated for an entire day, and worried what should happen if she was disturbed. She had heard the rumour that she had destroyed an entire city and sent every soul there, except for children, to Sithis before their time. She feared the interruption of her meditation would be very fatal for every single person, animal and spirit within the entire area of Skyrim. She had no choice: they needed her.

"Fine, send the letter." She commanded as if giving in to the victorious defeat Veezara had bestowed to her. He simply nodded and left the room, leaving the other assassins in absolute glee.

They were about to meet the butcher of Cyrodil, the killer of hundreds and even thousands of people.

The room was comfortable, yet uncomfortable. The stiff chairs reminded her of home and no one had even been there with her. She sat again, legs crossed, one under the other, on the stone floor and closed her burning red eyes. She had perfected the art of killing to the point where she was actually hired to kill a master of stealth. She sat there, not moving for what seemed like hours, her breathing was shallow. She wore her mother's old assassin amour, which she enchanted with a very rare and very hard enchantment which even the most skilled mages couldn't do it the first time round. She sat there, still. Her eyes still closed as she felt a familiar smell cross her enhanced nose and they darted open at the sound of footsteps and a very steady heartbeat. It was at this moment she realised that she had been stalked by another assassin. She still sat there and used her enhanced vision to scan the dark room: her tables were filled to the brim with cups full of blood and her chairs were stiffly placed, as neat as possible, to one side. She continued scanning the shadows until she came across what she was looking for.

The assassin was watching with curiosity when she motioned for him to come forward, as she closed her eyes again and continued to silently pray. This silent praying was only interrupted when he came and sat down opposite her, not crossing his legs as she had done. He scanned her face for a moment, looking for any signs of anger of his intrusion: he found none. This gave him a more welcoming feeling as she opened her eyes at the green Argonian sitting opposite her in brotherhood armour she closed them again

"What does the brotherhood want, Argonian?" she whispered as she continued to pray to Nocturnal and Sithis both that she would be rid of the assassin soon.

Veezara opened his mouth, and after a few stutters he simply said "we want you to join our sanctuary, in Falkreath." He almost stuttered at the thought of what she was going to do to him.

She let out a sinister chuckle before speaking, curiosity hitting her and rolling of her tongue as she did so. "Astrid's little group? Wondered when you would get here." She opened her eyes to see bewildered look on the Argonians' green, scaled face.

As if wounded by this look, she simply stood up in one fluid motion and put her hand out, as if to receive something. He quickly noticed the look of impatience in her eyes, which were covered by the ancient cowl that her mother used to wear. He took the letter from his pocket before handing it to her and standing back up, bowing to her and leaving. She tore into the letter and read the message that was sent by, and written by, Astrid.

Miss,

We do not know your name and so, until addressed to us, we will use your prominent title,

Butcher.

We, well I, would like you to join our family.

We know you prefer to meditate and have set up a room for you to quietly do so and in peace.

Our brothers and sisters are eager to meet you, Butcher.

We will see you at home, sister.

Astrid

The woman simply read the letter again to find any falsities that she had received before and found none. She said or showed nothing as she simply walked over to a chest, carrying all of her gems and Daedric artefacts and simply left, still wearing the armour of her mother.

The trek to Skyrim was a long one, and was an even longer one as she had entered up at the area near Winterhold and grimaced at the sight of the devastated city, her memories suddenly flashing back to when Savos Aren, the Arch mage of the college there, tried to save everyone. She was a student at the time and was already better than him. He gave her amnesty to always ne welcome here and to re-join the college as a teacher someday as she set out to go back to Cyrodil. He was her best friend and mentor there, teaching her many of the magic that no one uses any more, like turning yourself into a cloud of fog or seeing the life force of machines, such as the Dwemer's machinations.

She had travelled a long distance and seeing a familiar face would cheer her up right about now. She made a path to the broken city and the polished college. The mage stood at the gate of the entrance to the college was unfamiliar but not hostile. She knew this by smelling the air, as she had always done when on missions to complete an assignation contract. She stood there for a minute, watching the mage turn away everyone who dared go near. Her face was soft, yet worried that she would have to sneak her way or even fight her way into the college of her dear friend.

"Hello! What do you want?" The mage shouted, staring at the Butcher with still eyes as she walked towards the mage with her hips in a slight sway

"I'm here to see Savos. I am an old acquaintance of his. I used to rival his power and even to this day he is still my closest friend." Her face was covered by the cowl of her hood; her orange eyes were the only thing visible through the little slit it made.

"I see. May I ask your name?" the mage said to the woman standing before her with the snow blowing in her face. Her tone was slightly surprised that she apparently held more power than that of the arch mage himself.

Please just let me in. I will answer any questions that you have once I am inside." Came the voice from behind the mask.

"I will once you prove how powerful you are. If you are lying i will kick you as far away from here as possible." The mage's voice was dipped in anger and frustration as the last person who claimed they knew about the arch mage were actually trying to steal a powerful scroll they had hidden there, and only the arch mage and a mysterious woman he spoke about occasional while he was drunk knew about the spell it contained. She, of course knew of the spell the scroll did but had never cast it as she did not know the exact preparations needed.

The butcher simply stared at her for a moment before standing two steps back and just like that, turned herself into a mist. She finally walked out of the fog as it dispersed and looked at the mage who looked as if she had seen a ghost.

"You're the woman... Come with me, Savos will want to speak with you." The mage gave a look as she motioned for the stranger to follow as she continued "i assume you know your way around?"

"Yes I do. I am one of the oldest and most powerful senior mages in all of Tamriel, you know. I did live here." She said rather abruptly to the mage walking ahead of her, stopping occasionally to light the beacons outside of the college before reaching the gates.

"My name is Faralda. Please let I or any of the other senior staff know if there is a problem."

The butcher had simply nodded and walked off, scanning the surroundings before finding another mage and a Thalmor agent arguing. At the very sight of him her vampire blood boiled. She maintained her composure of peace and calmness with a deep breath before walking over and interjecting into the argument

"You are here at the pleasure of the arch mage, nothing more." The small Breton said as she gave him a stern look, a book in hand.

Before the elf could say anymore she decided to cut in at this moment. "Piss off Ancano, before I scorch your slimy backside back to Cyrodil." The butcher said rather acutely, not noticing the look of surprise on the face of the Breton mage and the look of horror on the elf's face as he immediately recognised her.

"You- You're..."

"-Your worst nightmare. I won't say it again, Ancano. Leave now." He looked down to notice the flames rising in her hands as she gave him another look before looking at the shocked Breton and scoffed. He mumbled as he walked away, silently cursing himself for not killing her there and then.

She turned to the small mage, whose jaw was now firmly squared upon the floor. The butcher gave her one amazed look before walking off to talk to Faralda, who was a current onlooker of the spectacle they had just witnessed. The butcher simply gave a look and turned walking towards the massive doors that led to the Arcaneum and the practice room. To the right of the Arcaneum was the arch mages room, and in the centre were the gates between her and the practice hall. She looked up at the practice hall, smiling at her fond memories of the place where she had beaten Savos at that very spot. She smiled, wondering if she had come back to train and become a teacher. Her weak smile faded behind her snow littered cowl and she descended up the stairs leading to the arch mages room.

The sanctuary was quiet with Babette talking to Gabriella and the Redguard, Nazir. Festus, the old and powerful mage, was finishing up the preparations for the Butcher's arrival. All that could be heard were the clanging of metal being hammered by Arnbjorn relentlessly. Each clang echoed through the sanctuary.

"What is taking her so long?" Astrid had shouted across the space of the sanctuary, calling everyone's attention- especially Gabriella, who had been a sincere follower of Sithis as the dragonborn was, but did not follow the same extremities that she did.

Gabriella and Babette were simply walking up to her as if to answer the rude and rather astute observation, before being cut off by Veezara."She is travelling from Cyrodil, you know."

"Yes, but it only took you two days to get there and back."

"That was because I wasn't carrying anything."

At that she sighed from the remark by Veezara and simply gave up the argument, sighing in defeat. She sat back, slinking in her chair, leaning it up against the wall. She looked at her knife, twirling it in between her fingers before impatiently stabbing it into the table impatiently. She knew full well of the Butcher's connections to the brotherhood but also knew of the connection she had to Nocturnal and the college of Winterhold. At this though she sighed once more as Veezara took his leave and the vampire went back to her interesting conversation in how she hid inside a mammoth's body during a contract. This seemed to impress Gabriella as she simply said "It was genius".

The elf stood there, stroking his small beard with one hand before using the other to read a book entitled "Herbane's bestiary: Ice wraiths." He cast a spell of magelight to see n the dimly lit room and read clearer. There were, of course, many soul gems filling the shelves of the area near his bed, as well as a chest stuffed to the brim with all sorts: some spell tomes, a quill, two inkwells, a troll skull, a coin purse, a staff of soul trapping and an orb which emanated some sort of red light from its centre.

He was well into his book and didn't even notice the figure that was standing just opposite him. She shook her head, as if to warmly shrug off a joke and walked towards him, her footsteps being muffled by the boots she wore.

"Hello Savos. It's been a while." She noticed how well into his book he was until she spoke which seemed to set off bells to wake him from his trance

He squinted his dark red eyes before gasping with pure delight and running over to the woman, now frozen to the spot as her grabbed her hand and shook it violently before releasing. "100 years, to be precise."

The woman took off her cowl, hiding her vampiric features from the rest of the world. "It's good to see you, Savos, you don't look a day over fifty." She said, a smile stretching across her smooth, pale, soft mouth and her violet hair blowing in freedom to the unrestricted access to the air they now had.

"Yes, well, that life extending magic you taught me are very useful."

"I'll bet. I can't stay, Savos. I only came here because you are a welcome face in this harsh land. Before I, forget how is The Auger of Dunlain?"

"He constantly talks about you. You should go see him." Savos, after saying this, saw the smile still etched in her face. He reached into his pocket, bringing out a vile filled with his own blood.

"Here. I remembered that you liked my blood most of all."

She hesitantly took it from him, a smile slowly weakened at the thought of feeding as she had not fed in three weeks, which meant she was considerably weak.

She immediately popped open the vial, parting her cherry red lips and placing them over the vial's top before bringing it up in the air and downing it all in one, clean drink.

"Thank you, Savos. I must really get going, I will see you some time in the future my friend." And at that she left the room, sliding the cowl back to her face after turning to give him a smile, her fangs showing, and leaving.

This certainly was one of the most pleasant days for her, considering she had just seen her age old friend and was about to head to Falkreath where she could get some supplies before heading to the black door waiting her presence outside the sanctuary.

"What, is the music, of life?" it questioned, Sithis' influence on this sanctuary was so strong already.

She had already seen the Keeper of the night mother already, instantly knowing it was him and the night mother was the box on the back of the cart. After he told her where they were going- to Falkreath- she instantly fixed his cart and bade him farewell, bowing to the box containing the unholy matron and walking in the direction herself. She had obviously not mentioned that she was a dark brotherhood assassin and had been for the past 500 years of her existence.

"Silence my brother." She had known every black door's questions and answers- including this one- as she had time to memorise them all in her extensive life span. The door simply welcomed her home before opening, allowing her passage into the sanctuary's inside. As she descended down the stone steps, she could hear the constant chattering of the assassins within. She immediately felt at home and walked up to the hooded character sitting at the table, clearly not noticing her approach until it was too late.

"Astrid." The butcher said, with a neutral tone with a hint of weariness from the long journey. Astrid leapt out of her chair to see the woman before, wearing the armour of the ancient assassin well before even Babette's time. Before Astrid even got to get a word out, the woman in front of her raised her head slightly, lowering her cowl as she did so. Her perfect and smooth skin shone like a river at midnight. Her regal red lips parted slightly, as if she were breathing a sigh of relief as her hood then came off, showing her dark violet hair flowing freely behind her. Her left eye had a single strand of loose hair covering it and her eyes were a blazing colour of orange that no normal vampire could have. Her dark elf features were clear to all, but in many cases, she seemed to look more human than that of an elf. She raised her head even more, sniffing the air as she did before looking back at a bewildered Astrid.

"I smell another vampire?"

"Another? You're a vampire?" Astrid asked .

"That is something I might- if I feel like it- tell you later. So, where is my room?" The woman said rather abruptly, interrupting the thinking that Astrid was immersed in.

"Hm? Oh, just walk right past the enchanting tables, turn left and go right past the dining room, then you will find it. If you are lost ask any brother or sister to assist you." She answered with a slight tinge of curiosity tipped on her tongue. Without even so much as a word, the woman walked right past her, towards the steps that led further down into the sanctuary where she caught the scent of a werewolf almost straight away.

She turned towards Astrid and asked, "There is a werewolf here, is there not?"

Astrid simply blushed and said with a forced calmness to her voice "Yes, he... is my husband and one of the brothers. Welcome home, sister."

"It is good to be back here." She said before continuing down the stairs to turn at the bottom and say back to her "By the way, you may address me as Kara." She then walked into the group of assassins, who were too busy talking about their recent kills to notice her.

She slinked in to the group, none noticing her. Kara stared at Babette throughout the entire time she was enacting the voices she had used to kill someone. After this the most heavenly voice trickled into her ears and set her long dead heart on a marionette dance. "Oh Babette, but you are so wicked." This set her pace running, she had only felt this way once before, and it did not end well.

The voice of an old man regaling his memories of how he killed a priest and nearly turned him inside out with his magic piqued her interests from the hooded dark elf and onto him. It was then that Babette then focused her eyes on to the strange new assassin. She couldn't quite place it. Veezara had not even noticed her enter, as did Arnbjorn and Nazir, who also didn't even see her gaze fixed on the old man as he regaled his tale of mysticism and magic. Kara then brought her gaze away and went to sit down in a dark corner, now getting Gabriella curious as well. She seemed to perfectly blend with the shadows, barely visible even to Babette. Kara's form seemed to meld with the shadows as if she were a part of them, now becoming invisible.

The werewolf had finished his speech on how he killed a master of the whispering fang style, "...And now I have a new loin cloth." At that a roar of laughter came from everyone in the hall, except for Kara who had been praying to Nocturnal for guidance on what to do now. The laughter had clearly forced her to end her paying quick as she sprung up and walked towards the group if assassins, whose eyes were all, trained on her. All she did was simply walk right past them all, not even giving a sideways glance as she walked towards the bedroom that awaited her, so she could meditate.

Gabriella knew it was her, knew it was. She often heard of the stories that many brotherhood initiates and travellers had told her: that Kara only cared for the night mother and Nocturnal. This intrigued her further as the others began to realise who it was, and suddenly the entire sanctuary was filled with a buzz of joy, confusion and, above all, reverence. This woman was like a god to them, killing more in twenty years than even the most trained assassin had done in a lifetime. Babette, along with the other assassins in the sanctuary did not even know anything about Kara, other than she was the most powerful assassin- and most feared- in all of Tamriel. Hara had not left her room since she arrived, three days ago. The only time she was seen outside her room was when she picked the nightshade and death bell plants outside her room door before walking back in. Even Babette knew that she needed to feed- and soon- as the scars of her previous battles showed every time she stepped out of her mysterious room, more and more appearing each time. How was she to feed if she never left the sanctuary? This had merely confused the un-child, making her want to see the assassin even more now. Gabriella noticed this curiosity now, walking over as if to say something. Then the doors flew open.

The woman behind the doors was wearing her ancient assassin armour, cowl covering the scars of her previous battles. Every one of her assassinations had been perfectly accomplished, with not even a whisper that it was her or that the contract was even dead until weeks later. How was it, then, that every one of her assassinations was perfect and she had scars? Scars showed that she had been an open battle or was caught- which she was never. Then a thought crossed the minds of both Babette and Gabriella, self inflicted. The thought slipped both their minds like a slaughter fish being caught in a net; it would just bite its way out. Then a more realistic, more plausible reason came to their heads: Torture.

It was indeed true, but they didn't know that, and Kara intended to keep her past away from everyone and let as few people know anything about as possible. She looked down at the Redguard, who was staring up at her, wiping away the food he had just eaten. Kara took a step down before stopping, as if cautious of the eyes planted on her. She then continued down the stone, cracked stairs, before walking up to Nazir and standing in front of him with her hand held out, expecting it to be filled with something.

"Give me a contract, Boy." Nazir froze up at the request as he had no meaningful contracts and only had some that the brotherhood has had no time in doing. Boy was something he had never been called before, not even by Babette, and she was older than all members of the brotherhood combined.

"H-Here, these are contracts that we haven't got round to doing." He stuttered, showing that he feared her more than he intended to.

She snatched the scrolls from his hand and walked towards the entrance of the sanctuary, hoping that she would get away from the eyes that were constantly following her. she had- of course- been very used to such an occurrence, and had no idea why she felt so twitchy around her new family. The reason she did not even know, had presented its self in her mind and she quickly shrugged off the dream she had been having when ever she allowed herself any time to sleep- which, lately, was none- and continued on her quest to kill a simple beggar, Narfi.

She trudged on, past the black door and into the woods of the Falkreath area, taking in the smell of the pines around her and the mountain flowers that grew next to them.

Then the smell of smoke and the cries off death came to her ears, but she shook them off, carrying on...

A/N: Sorry I took so long, but here you go! This should entertain those fans of the dark brotherhood and yes, this is a chaptered story.

As always: review, follow and stay Golden!