Random randomness, this; I didn't intend to write it. I may not even continue it. But I wanted to do parody for quite some time and I don't think anyone has done this yet. So, here I am, with my own (heh) take on the ever-popular Dark Brotherhood storyline, complete with Lucien romance. There are great stories out there with that plotline, but those are like pearls in the muck – you have to search for them. The Dark Brotherhood: A Listener's Tale and Forged in Darkness: A Dark Brotherhood Tale have been my two great inspirations and encouragements – give them a read, if you can. All in all, the Sue has infested most DB stories, so here I present her to you, stripped of all her masks, in her sickeningly perfect glory.

Anything Oblivion is not mine – it belongs to Bethesda, naturally. Including Lucien, though I guess every fangirl would want to own him. Heh. Mary Sue belongs to the fanfiction community on and off the net. Cookies for those who guesses who Mr. Fuzzems belongs to. Willy Wonka belongs to Roald Dahl.

Cheese for everyone!

o.O.o

It's a bird! It's a plane! No, it's…

o.O.o

As she floated along the roads of Cyrodiil, her windswept hair landed gracefully around her shoulders to an ecstatic chorus of "Alleluia" – sung by the canon inhabitants of Morrowind, all blissfully happy about the fact that she had decided to move on from their province and go torture herself some Imperials. They deserved it, in any case. And perhaps they would be more effective in dealing with the uber-powerful force on two perfectly shaped legs of porcelain that was heading their way.

´Twas Isabellanast'aasia-arwenäeowynßgaladriel??gosh'this'name'is'so'very'descriptive!edh'wen-ing-quen-iel, the Blue Thunder of the Starry Skies and Puffy Clouds, Scourge of the Puppy-Kickers and Part-Time Head Cheerleader of Some Distant High School. For the sake of not compromising her mission and easy travel, she went by her childhood name of Mare Su, which translated as Perfect Perfection from the Ancient And Nifty-Sounding Tongue of the Forgotten Invading Authors, adjusting it to a more Cyrodiilic-sounding Mary Sue. She had her experience with people being unable to cope with the magnificence of her name and start going red in the face after three syllables.

Or it could just be the fact that no one could say it five times fast and earn the right to be her Number One Fan.

Half-elven (of all three kinds – don't ask how), half-vampyre, half-pixie and half-Barbie (pink hairbrush included), she was the long-abandoned daughter of Uriel Septim, who had frantically told his servants to get rid of the little beast when she was but a child. However, out of sadistic glee or simple lunacy, wild wolves had found her and brought her to servants of Sheogorath, who raised and nurtured her until she was ready for the world. Now, after so long, she was ready to be reunited with her family.

Her name was well-chosen, for Mary was the very image of beauty. Her hair, softer than silk, cobwebs and more luscious than cotton candy, was a long mane of fluorescent colors, changing shades according to her whim. Currently, it was chocolate, with gentle rippling curls and a few whirlpools around the edges, shimmering like only really cheap jewelry could get away with. She never needed money on her journey, because she could always sell some of her chocolate hair to the local candy factory. It always grew back – plus, she could choose the flavor – and tasted better than the very best chocolate in the world. She was a regular supplier of Willy Wonka, after all.

That is a story for another time, though.

Her face was perfect in every single way; porcelain skin begging to be shattered, shining orbs of greenish grayish blue with iridescent twinkles instead of normal eyes and rosy plump lips begging to be kissed. Not that she'd let anyone do so, of course. She had standards.

Mary was famous throughout Tamriel already; her power was obvious. She could defy gravity without problems; any other woman of her slim build would have likely been prematurely hunched if she had her cup size. She could travel through time; her clothing was finely picked – Channel and Versace from top to bottom, of course. And it was short. I mean, really, really short. It looked absolutely exquisite on Mary, whereas any other person wearing such a getup would have looked like a whore, a maniac… or both.

Somewhere on the Shivering Isles, Haskill was trying frantically to convince his master that opening a portal to Nirn wasn't a good idea right now.

Mary was lonely, though. Her only companion was her pet bunny, Mr. Fuzzems, who was nearly as flawlessly cute as she, but not quite as hot. Unless you were into bunnies.

Eww!

Ahem, in any case, Mary had had the premonition that Cyrodiil needed her; nay, that the Emperor needed her. Of course he did, being her dad and all that, but he needed her more than anyone. And so she was making her way there.

How good of her! Awww!

I can't hear you! AAAWWWWW!!

But on the way, she encountered her jealous second cousin once removed, Gary Stu. Gary had always been jealous of the way she could pull off a sparkly tiara in any outfit and he couldn't. And so, Gary made a fundamental mistake… he insulted Mr. Fuzzems!

LE GASP!

And Gary laughed in a very cliché 50ies-villain-like manner.

Mary was a gentle woman. She knew that violence was obsolete – her charm was disarming enough – but this time, Gary had crossed the line. Besides, being a relative, she couldn't simply seduce him. Damn. No one insults Mr. Fuzzems and gets away with it without apologizing!

Calling upon the ancient power of JUSTICE, Mary whacked Gary on the head with a club that randomly appeared in her hand; her true weapon was an object of unspeakable horror known as the Makeover Kit. No one faced with its terrible power survived the sight of themselves in the mirror after its dark arcane attack was unleashed. Unfortunately, her power being too great, Gary was struck dead before she even hit him. Great X-es in his eyes, life fled from him quicker than an ice cream would melt in hell. Mary gasped, astonished but still stunning.

"Oh, woe is me!" she wailed – scratch that, make that sang an elegy of mourning. "I know not my own strength! Poor Gary, woe is me! Woe! WOE!"

To pay homage to her fallen friend and relative, Mary used her magical powers to bury him, right then and there. Or rather, dispose of him. As the greatest mage of the world, she had no problems with any school of spells and so, Gary's body managed with a faint pop before he was resurrected as one of the zombies in Resident Evil. Why Mary didn't choose to resurrect him in Tamriel was to remain a mystery; she claimed she couldn't bear to see the anger in his eyes.

Mary cried herself to sleep that night, but her eyes weren't red in the least. Pearl-like tears dripped softly down her soft cheeks, to be found by some lucky thief some days later and sold to the local jewelry store. Her queen-sized bedroom appeared in front of her in the middle of the wilderness, complete with a bubble bath and spa, but she didn't have the heart to enjoy herself right now. Not even with Mr. Quackers, her rubber ducky.

The mythical powers of Su protected her throughout the night, scaring off any possible bandits without fault. Those unfortunates struck by them are now welcome guests at the Shivering Isles.

The only person who wasn't repelled by the mystical shockingly-pink aura was the single person the Great Plot willed to come closer. Considering the fact that he was without a doubt the deadliest of them all isn't the author's concern. After all, hotness is the defining factor of the universe and all the grass under his feet was scorched away when he walked.

So there.

But Mary wasn't so easily snuck upon. She lay there like an angelic vision, a sleeping princess or a sedated lunatic, her glorious silvery hair spread around her soft shoulders, skimpy lingerie in place and not an ounce of fat under her luminous pale skin. She sensed the intruder through the Morse, an equivalent of the Star Wars Force in general terms. She wasn't about to have her Sleeping Beauty moment with a complete stranger, oh no.

In any case, Mr. Fuzzems growled threateningly at the newcomer, who stopped in his tracks for a moment.

Now, it would be an understatement to say that Lucien Lachance was unused to surprises. In his line of work, one saw a lot of oddities – Night Mother rituals alone weren't for those of faint hearts and weak stomachs. He had worked his way to a bureaucratic position through hard and efficient work, so any kind of physical mutilation of a victim wasn't enough to faze him. Blood splattering on his robes was only a minor annoyance – and that was after he was done with his job; usually, it was very gratifying.

But the very nature of the sight in front of him enforced his suspicion that Ungolim was sending him on these recruitment missions on purpose. Couldn't Arquen get the weirdoes for once? She was the one who feasted on people's entrails, after all; she would get along with them.

Somewhere, the Night Mother had to be laughing at all this. But she had sent word that this one was a competent assassin; though why, Lucien couldn't really guess.

When Mary's sparkling auburn eyes opened, it was like the sunrise, and for a moment, the Speaker was blinded. Then, gracefully as a butterfly on LSD, Mary Sue raised herself from the bed with pink sheets she had been resting on, just enough to make her ample cleavage noticeable.

She gave a gasp of surprise, but it was only minor, as she tried to cover herself to very little effect. The sheets seemed nailed to the bed.

Lucien's left eye twitched a bit when his quarry valiantly attempted to hide underneath what little of the covers she could lift. This was going to be a long night. Might as well get it over with quickly and then go ask that this one be given to a different sanctuary.

"You sleep rather soundly for a murderess." he began, calming himself once she stopped tossing around. "That's good. You'll need a clear conscience for what I'm about to propose."

"What are you saying?!" Mary's bell-like voice thundered with righteous indignation. "I am no murderess! I-I simply wanted Gary to apologize! Mr. Fuzzems has feelings, you know! He's so very fragile! And besides, he was there, he can say so! Right, Mr. Fuzzems?"

The little white bunny chewing on the bed sheets made no sign of having heard her.

"See?" Mary beamed at her pet. So clever! She then took a better look at her visitor. The night was completely black and his face was all but invisible under his dark hood, but Mary was easily able to cast a permanent Night Eye spell on herself without speaking or moving. That being said, she saw as clearly as if she had pointed a flashlight into Lucien's face.

Assuming she knew what a flashlight was. Moving on…

It was only now that she realized that her visitor wasn't only male – the voice was a give-away, but who knows? Could have been a female orc – but extremely good looking in that ruggedly handsome way every girl loved. His thick dark hair was simply calling out to her fingers (she managed to call them back, luckily) and his physique was killer.

Mwahaha.

"My name is Lucien Lachance." And his name contained such symbolism – why, almost as much as hers! Ye gods, this was a sign from above! "I am a Speaker for the Dark Brotherhood. And you, you are a killer. A taker of life. A harvester of souls."

"No!" Mary cried dramatically, tossing herself around in agony. "No! No! NO! I am Mary Sue, goodie-2-shoes incarnate! I'm not a puppy kicker! I'm not!"

The hooded Speaker gritted his teeth only a fraction more than necessary. He was half-inclined to agree with her at this point. "Your work, your deathcraft, pleases the Night Mother. And so, I come to you with an offer. An opportunity to join our rather…unique family."

Damn that Ungolim. This had to be one of his annoying pranks. Fetching Bosmer. He always made it a point to remind all the Speakers who was in charge by sending them on these ridiculous tasks, but right now, he had really outdone himself.

Mary was struck by the sudden nature of this marriage proposal. She had received her fair share of them, no doubt, but this one was the easiest by far. Her instincts were wary of this man, this killer (LE GASP) but somehow, she felt drawn to him. It was as if destiny – or the juvenile author – wanted them to be together. And the symbolism… it was a sign! He could yet be redeemed!

Perhaps there was yet hope; the woman was silent at last, but she seemed rather like a crossing between a raccoon and an owl. Plus, she seemed to be on the verge on drooling and not like a bloodhound would. Lucien really wanted to call it a night and get back to the regular business of delegating tasks. Perhaps office work wasn't as dull as he had thought – at least he didn't have to meet all the lunatics escaped from Sheogorath.

"So, I have your rapt attention. Splendid." He chose to speak quickly and get things over with. "Now listen closely. On the Green Road to the North of Bravil lies the Inn of Ill Omen. There you will find a man named Rufio. He is an old man, his body frail, and he sleeps his days away. You could kill him before he woke, if you so chose. In whatever way you choose, kill him, and your initiation into the Dark Brotherhood will be complete. Do this, and the next time you sleep in a location I deem secure, I will reveal myself once more, bearing the love of your new family."

Mary almost gasped, but she maintained her magnificent control over herself. Love! He said love! She had read the signs correctly! No innuendo – not even the non-existent one! – would go unnoticed by her. she controlled the impulse to drag her new soul mate into her bed at once – she had morals, of course – until she could prove her love and devotion.

Besides, old people were just so… old. They didn't belong in the storyline; end of story. Oh, well. There goes her non-killing creed.

And so, from that point on, Mary decided that if the only way to be completely devoted to her darling was to be a sexy, leather-wearing, whip-wielding dominatrix in stratospherically high heels, she could do it. Until she could redeem her beloved and make him a pacifist with affiliations to Greenpeace, she would do it. After all, she was an incredible actress and not opposed to… variety.

Seeing that, Lucien really didn't think it was a good idea to give a person like that bladed weapons, but he was known for his precision and expertise, and so couldn't ignore the tradition. "Please accept this token from the Dark Brotherhood. It is a virgin blade, and thirsts for blood. May it serve you well, as does your silence." he said, handing her the Blade of Woe.

WOE.

It was a sign! Virgin! The analogy! The innuendo! He was so very manly, respecting her innocence with this symbolism. This was almost like an engagement ring, save for the dagger-thingy, but it was a step in the right direction! She had known that when he spoke, his eyes were filled with hidden passion for her, not pride in his work or plain assassin scariness!

Akatosh's toenails; it really was love!

Their hands touched for a moment, mainly because Mary used the moment to grab his before Lucien could vanish, now having completed his task. He supposed he ought to note that he would be pleased to see her again, but somehow, he didn't think that was a good idea.

"Of course, Lulu." Mary purred in a very sexy-yet-not-slutty manner. In a flash, her lingerie was no longer silken satin velvet but black leather, rather like Xena wears but ten thousand times tighter, better and more revealing. Think of it as really tight, really small black bikini. "I live to obey your every wish…"

Using the few seconds when the normally calm and collected Speaker was completely stunned, Mary magicked all the furniture away and transformed Mr. Fuzzems into his true form… a sparkly flying rainbow unicorn! She had already slain the lawyers of the My Little Pony franchise, after all, so there was no problem with it. Then, quickly hopping on her ride with utter grace, she waved at her darling killer before riding off into the setting sun (wait… wasn't it night just now?).

"Ta!" she chirped before vanishing in a cloud of fairy dust.

Of course she didn't kiss him! It was just the first date after all!

Five minutes later, a frozen Lucien Lachance was still standing there, though once in a while, a vein on his forehead pulsed. His hearing was very good and assuming it wasn't somehow damaged right now – which was almost impossible… his hand twitched towards one of his hidden daggers, but it was too late, Mary was gone. It was no use. And the Night Mother would be highly displeased if he botched his job. Demotion wasn't on his to-do list today. Pulling his hood further over his face, the Speaker relaxed once he managed to convince himself that there was absolutely no guarantee that the woman would survive this if he helped things a bit…

Accidents happen, after all.

But before that, he was going to have a serious talk with Ungolim about sugar overdose and the fact that just because he was related to a leprechaun from one side of his family didn't mean he could be funny like this.

Ever.