Walking the shadows
Summary: Sheogorath's mortal champion understood that Syl's death would change his life. What he didn't foresee was exactly how things would change. Lucien Lachance x Other Male Character
Chapter One
The boy's sleep was untroubled, his breathing deep and even, and that was surely a good sign. It meant that the boy had the stomach for their line of work, whether he wanted to join the Brotherhood or not. Lucien spent moments to study the sleeping figure. It was hard to tell the youth's race. His hair was dark brown and his facial features suggested an Imperial, but his skin was a little too pale for the race. He wasn't wearing any clothes and his long ebony sword was tucked away in a cupboard with his blood-strained ebony armour, a sign that he wasn't afraid of persecution.
Whoever the boy had killed, he must have done so with Sheogorath's approval. Would he be surprised by the Dark Brotherhood's visit? Some of the murderers he recruited initially had problems with regarding themselves as such. No matter, a child of Sithis would answer his call and someone who cut out and carried his victim's heart in his shoulder bag could not be anything else, however harmless he looked in his sleep.
It was a pity to cut short such a well-earned sleep after a successful kill, but Lucien didn't want to stay long in the lands of Sheogorath whose inhabitants tried his patience to the limit, even if they would have made a promising client base for the Dark Brotherhood. That the Mad God refused to grant an entry to his beloved Shadowmere didn't exactly help matters. He cast the weakest frost spell at his disposal on yet another of Sheogorath's statues that he found in the inn. The spell did its trick, bringing the room temperature down by a degree or two.
It took a little time before the sleepy eyes were finally opened. Normally at this stage, Lucien would state his business so as not to panic his potential subordinate, but there were no signs of alarm in the blue eyes that steadily met his gaze; only curiosity.
"I didn't realise," the youth spoke first, "that I was supposed to share my bed with someone. I am not opposed to the idea, but I would like to know you a little better first."
Lucien had to smile at the audacity. So, as he had suspected, the boy wasn't your average murderer. He could probably make it far and it should be interesting to watch his progress within the ranks of the Brotherhood.
"As tempting as that sounds, I am here on official business of the Dark Brotherhood."
"Dark Brotherhood? The guild of paid assassins?"
Confusion momentarily clouded the boy's clear blue eyes before they widened in understanding. "Because I attacked Syl without warning?"
"Because your death craft, cold-bloodied and efficient as it was, a mark of a true assassin, pleased the Night Mother."
"So, you came to me in my sleep, Mr…"
"Lachance. My name is Lucien Lachance and I am a Speaker of the Black Hand, our organisation's ruling body. Are you ready to hear out my proposal?"
"By all means."
The youth listened to Lucien's elegant speech without interruption. When Lucien finished explaining what he must do to become part of the Brotherhood, the boy asked a few questions concerning Rufio, the Dark Brotherhood and the Night Mother. He seemed to hang on to Lucien's every word, fascinated by the secrets known only to a selected few. Afterwards, though, the boy seemed lost in his own thoughts. It was only after Lucien handed him a dagger as a token of the Brotherhood's good will, the boy looked up at him with a disarming smile.
"You speak of a family, but what if it is not the love of a new family I am after? What if it is your love and approval? Will I gain what I seek?"
Lucien knew then that it wouldn't be long before they would meet again. With an enigmatic smile, he ran his fingers lightly along the youth's full lips and whispered as he would have done before a kill.
"One thing at a time, Murderer. Earn it, if you can."
Alex had long ago lost count of how many men and mer perished by his hands. Tamriel was a dangerous place for any man venturing outside city walls and he couldn't afford to find out whether anyone he met in the wild would attack him on sight or not. Not when his birth sign made him extremely vulnerable to any kind of magical attack. He would kill first rather than risk being killed. Though he felt nothing but satisfaction at the job well-done afterwards, at times he had to wonder why the Dark Brotherhood had never approached him.
They had come finally, when he least expected they would. He couldn't help but smile at the irony of it all. Syl wouldn't have struck him as an innocent, if he had bothered to think about it. And frankly, her innocence, or lack of it, didn't matter. It was necessary to obtain her heart and that was that. Syl running for her life instead of fighting back after he struck her first under the cloak of invisibility didn't change the fact that he needed her heart to become the Duke of Dementia. No more than did her cry for Sheogorath's protection change the fact that it was Sheogorath who needed her dead.
The timing for the Dark Brotherhood's invitation was somewhat inconvenient. As intrigued as he had been by the mysterious assassin guild, he had a job to do in the Shivering Isles. It wasn't everyday that a mortal could become a champion of a Daedric Prince. Yet, for the whim of Sheogorath, he had become one, even if he was a little sceptical about Sheogorath's claim that he would eventually replace the Prince of Madness. And he was about to be made one of two nobles in the Mad God's realm. All he had to do was to take Syl's heart to the Sacellum Arden-Sul and place it on the altar.
He would have refused the offer, had it not been for their inimitable representative. He had never met anyone like Lucien Lachance. He looked relaxed, almost lazy, and yet his eyes remained watchful even when he was smiling. Alex had no doubt that the man could strike fast and deadly if needed. Despite his high rank, he was carrying only an unenchanted short sword, an indication that he was confident in his abilities. His deep voice, just like his slow smile, had a flair that mesmerized and seduced his audience. By the time Lucien was ready to make his leave, Alex knew that he would end up joining the Dark Brotherhood.
Having donned his armor and with the reassuring weight of his faithful ebony blade at his side, Alex gave a long look at the dagger that was Lucien's gift, as though trying to unravel its giver's secret, before carefully placing it in his shoulder bag. It looked like an ebony dagger, but from a couple of tests he ran against threads of cotton he carried for just that purpose, he understood the damage it could inflict was no better than that of a steel dagger. He probably wouldn't use it much, but at present it was his only link to Lucien Lachance and he would cherish it for that very reason.
He left Sickly Bernice's Taphouse and headed towards the Crucible Gate, not looking back at what might have been. Even now, he doubted the sanity of his decision, but then, perhaps Haskill was right about the nature of madness.
Madness was not a disease but simply another state of being, a state that presently compelled him like an inescapable fate.