"In the great green tomb, there was a chaurus."
I was haunted. It was a fact I was coming to terms with, slowly, and I'd only imagined the ghost to be my mother. But this deep voice, the one singing to me in my head, this was my father.
"And a draugr that had been dead since Sundas."
It took me back, back to my days as a small child, one who still had innocence, who hadn't killed yet. Whose brother hadn't both violated and abandoned her.
"And a picture of..."
My father trailed off, waiting. I could see him kneeling beside my bed, body wrapped in the garb of an assassin about to head out on a job.
"A guar jumping over the Mundus!" I, only six in this memory, sang before falling into a fit of giggles.
My father grinned, kissing my forehead, his beard tickling me.
"Hush, you'll wake Dyre."
My mother strode in, dressed for work as well. She was adjusting her gloves. Dyre slept in a separate room and our parents alternated putting us to bed. And whoever had Dyre usually had a much harder job. I remembered being proud that I didn't need to be coddled by my parents. Didn't take as long to be put to bed. My mother's red eyes zoned in on my father, her message clear. She was ready to go. My father smiled her way before turning back to me.
"Alright," he prompted, kissing my forehead again. "We're going to have to speed this up."
I nodded, a bit disappointed as he made me lay down, smoothing my blanket over me.
"Goodnight Mundus,Goodnight chaurus,Goodnight guar jumping over the Mundus," he sang as he did.
Probably feeling bad, my mother's soft voice joined his and she came to the other side of my bed, smoothing my hair with her glove.
"Goodnight draugr that had been dead since Sundas,Goodnight frost troll, Goodnight sweet roll," she sang with him.
My father's voice faded away and he simply stared at my mother, his blue eyes reflecting the love he had for her even to this day.
"Goodnight Orcish oaf with a horker loaf," my mother continued, meeting his gaze and grinning.
She wasn't old but she was old enough. Young men still found her tempting, a woman with experience and the charm of an older woman. And my father was the lucky one to have claimed her. My mother's voice dropped away and they just stared at each other, a couple so madly in love with each other that the poor, six year old me was getting sick watching them make weird faces at each other.
"Goodnight atronach,Goodnight wabbajack,And Goodnight to the Moth priest whispering, "magicka"!" I blurted, stumbling over some words, my face in a pout as I glared at the two of them.
They both laughed at that.
"Goodnight ogrim, Dremora, clannfear," my father sang, just to please me.
"Goodnight Daedra everywhere," my mother finished.
She merely forgot one thing. Daedra don't sleep.
He was harassing me again, bombarding me with my past, my happiness, my childhood. I looked up at Molag Bal, his image before me, so much bigger than I.
"Enough," I hissed. "Haven't you done enough?"
He chuckled, his mere presence surrounding me like a cloud. Emotions I hadn't remembered, hadn't needed when I'd been trapped in Coldharbour, rose to the surface. Frustration and deep anger burned me inside, making me realize that this freedom he'd given me was truly an illusion. It was merely another way for him to torture me. To watch my emotions, emotions his realm and him had taken from me. Only to bombard me with them now. I had been thrust into Skyrim an emotionless shell, an empty void and because I was emotionless, I'd lost my memories, the ones that would make me feel anything that he didn't want me to feel. Which was everything. The full force of what he'd taken from me hit me and I screamed at him, at the towering, laughing beast. I did not scream words. No. I sent the full force of my emotions his way, wishing I could beat him into the ground.
"I hate you!" I screamed. "I hate you! I'll kill you!"
The tears I felt slipping down my cheeks burned like fire. And he merely laughed, his horrible voice echoing through my ears.
"There is your fire," he laughed.
He lowered himself so that he was right there, his horrible eyes reflecting me, the weak image of me that looked like she'd been to Mehrunes Dagon's plane and back.
"And now its time for you to go back."
The downside to my emotions. I recalled every horrible second in Coldharbour, fear constricting my heart.
"No."
Fear refused to let me go, choking my voice with its constrictive grip. Molag Bal threw his head back, laughing.
"You did not think I'd leave you here forever? To grow old and die doing as you please? You had grown too use to my realm, too cold. And so in another 200 years, I will release you again. And this game will go on."
He reached for me, so sure that I'd let him drag me back.
"No."
This time, the word was louder, stronger, my fear still there but helping me now, as if it would rather return to its pit and stay there. My body wouldn't move, as if frozen but it didn't matter. I wasn't going back. A power unlike any other filled me and like that, a presence appeared at my side. I stared at the second Daedric Prince, at Nocturnal as her billowing darkness surrounded me, as if she had come to protect me.
"Nocturnal," Molag Bal hissed, as if her mere presence was a knife to his eye.
"Once more you overstep your bounds," Nocturnal scolded, her face impassive.
"What bounds?' Molag Bal snarled.
Finally, a smile, or an attempt at one cracked her uncaring facade.
"Why, this is my new champion," Nocturnal declared.
Her darkness still surrounded me, one of her night birds landing on my shoulder. She was claiming me as one of her own.
"She is mine," Molag Bal hissed, rising so that he towered over Nocturnal and I.
Her smile was gone and she was blank again as she looked upwards at him.
"Would you dare challenge me?" she demanded to know. "Have you not already known the bitter taste of defeat, you arrogant worm?"
At the mention of its dinner, her bird cawed, flapping its wings a bit.
"And do you think you could win with my champion at my side?"
The mention of me brought Molag Bal's temper tantrum to a halt and he glowered at her.
"You have lost, my brother," Nocturnal said. "Now release her."
He opened his mouth and let out a roar that sent Nocturnal's birds flying away. I closed my eyes against it, letting Nocturnal's dancing shadows swallow me into their darkness.
I screamed as I came awake, sitting up fast. The girl sitting beside me didn't even react. She just kept stirring the bowl of soup she held before lifting the spoon.
"Hungry?" she asked.
I stopped screaming, choosing to squint at her instead.
"Who are you?" I demanded.
My memory was a bit foggy past my encounter with Nocturnal and Molag Bal. The girl didn't respond. Instead, a chilling but familiar cackle drew my attention.
"Hello, Listener!" laughed Cicero.
He and Brynjolf stood by the door, lowering their weapons onto a small table. Brynjolf smiled at me, approaching. The girl, an obvious Breton, rose, handing him the bowl.
"You guys find anything?"
She probably meant the question for Brynjolf because Cicero had begun singing to himself.
"Just a few rabbits which a certain someone scared off with his singing," Brynjolf mumbled, grumpy it seemed, taking the now empty seat next to me.
"We'll be fine until midday tomorrow," the Breton said.
She had her hand on the door.
"We'll head back out," she informed Brynjolf.
Cicero danced out after her, the door closing firmly behind them. Not before snow flurried just inside the door and I shivered against the cold. Brynjolf held out the bowl.
"Here you go," he offered.
"What happened?" I demanded to know.
"What do you mean?"
Brynjolf was just playing dumb now. I was too tired to fix him with much of a look but I managed one. He sighed.
"Lass, when I found you, you were burrowed in straw and barely awake," he said.
He set the food down, probably suspecting that I wasn't going to be eating it anytime soon.
"That's all I know," he swore.
I rubbed my head, feeling a headache coming on.
'Who's there?' I mentally demanded. 'Who's in my head?'
A low chuckle echoed in my head, the sound overwhelming me.
'Have you finally come to terms with what you are?' asked the voice.
Nocturnal. She was back. No, something told me she had never left.
'What are you doing here?' I demanded.
'There are but a handful who know what was done to you while you were held captive. You are no longer one,' she explained. 'I have taken those memories and will only return them once you have completed the task I give you.'
I grimaced, uncomfortably. Did I really want to know? Did I have to know? I decided that I did.
'I can't kill anyone,' I said.
The realization that that was true was terrifying, as if my conscience had intensified. Even now, even struggling to steal back a glimpse of my memories of captivity, I was haunted by past kills, by each victims' face. And even as I conversed with Nocturnal, I felt tears sliding down my face.
"Lass."
Brynjolf rubbed my back and a weak part of me wanted to surrender to the sheer feel of someone, anyone, comforting me. But I'd never needed comforting before. What was wrong with me?
'Return him to me,' Nocturnal instructed. 'And get rid of the traitor within my midst.'
Her voice was commanding, unsympathetic.
'You are in my debt. You will kill if I command it or you will face Molag Bal alone.'
She had me there. And as horrible as I felt, the idea that I could end up back in Molag's plane was even worse.
'I'll do it.'
I sat by the fire, wrapped in the fur that had covered me. Two days had passed and those two days I'd sat in this same spot, staring at the fire. When the Breton, named Rossara, wasn't shooing me away so that she could prod it back to life. We didn't talk much but she seemed comfortable enough with Cicero. And Brynjolf never left except to go hunting. He'd return soon enough and he'd spend all his time staring at me or conversing silently with Rossara. They thought I didn't notice, they thought Cicero enough to distract me. They were wrong. At this particular time, Cicero and Brynjolf were out hunting again. Rossara was just outside, no doubt practicing her archery. I could hear the Thunk! of arrows as they hit the side of the cabin. I knew I couldn't leave. I could still feel how broken I was, outside and inside, even though Nocturnal had stolen away my memories. I drew in a deep breath, lowering myself to my back on the floor. My fingers released the fur, letting the chill not banished by the fire seep into my skin. The sound of my blood as it surged through my body filled my ears. Any other time, it would be enough. But something, no someone was blocking me. And she'd continue to do so until I did what she wanted.
"Bitch," I mumbled, sitting up.
I stood, legs a bit shaky but I'd deal. I threw the fur away. Enough was enough. I would not be a victim, would not be so weak as to hide. Extra armor rested atop a trunk at the end of the bed and I grabbed it, shedding the robes I wore in favor of it. Just that simple act, putting armor on instead of the impractical robes made the aches in my body ease just a bit. I tugged on the boots, stomping into them. As I finished that, Brynjolf stepped into the room, carrying two rabbits. He froze in his tracks, seeing me standing there in armor. I fixed him with a look, one that didn't give him an encouragement in any objections he could make.
"We're leaving," I proclaimed.
I'd thought my body to be broken but I once I started going,it was easy to ignore the pain that had plagued me in my recovery. I ran through the snow, breath coming in visible gasps as I fought the cushiony blanket of white. I could hear the others behind me which was fine. I'd never been a distance runner nor a fast runner. I'd been an assassin. Running hadn't been necessary. Only silence. An arrow whizzed by my head and I didn't have to look back to know it was Rossara. It buried itself in a Frostbite spider, killing it. I leapt over its dead body and kept running.
"Do you even know where you're going?" Brynjolf yelled.
He'd tried everything to keep me in that cabin and he'd tried everything to get me to go back. Clearly he wasn't giving up. I stopped. I did hate to admit that I didn't know where I was going. It just felt so good to be in motion. Brynjolf caught up, catching my wrist, probably trying to keep me from bolting again before he caught his breath. Watching his chest heave, I realized my own was doing the same. I shouldn't have run so much. Brynjolf sighed, sensing my exhaustion. He flopped onto the snow, dragging me down with him and settling me on his lap.
"What-" I began.
"I'm a Nord,lass. I'm built against the cold."
"I'm half Nord," I argued, wasting precious breath.
"Is the Listener well?"
Cicero joined us, dancing merrily.
"Cicero, I'm not the Listener anymore," I corrected him.
And to be honest, I wasn't sure I wanted to be.
"But the Listener-" Cicero began.
"Cicero," I corrected. "This is the biggest secret the Dark Brotherhood can keep but anyone with an ounce of skill in Necromancy can be the Listener."
Cicero looked shocked and I knew how he felt. My mother had ruined that illusion for me ages ago. Practically literally.
"Where I'm going, you shouldn't," I told Cicero, not admitting that I was going to do the bidding of a Daedric Prince.
He'd almost killed Astrid over her disbelief of the Dark Mother. What would he do to me?
"Go home, Cicero," I ordered.
I rethought that.
"All of you need to go home."
Beneath me, I felt Brynjolf tense, his entire body going rigid. It reminded me of the fact that I was still in his lap, still coddled protectively against him, still relying on someone and I rose, fighting that urge.
"Lass, I don't have a home."
His words stopped me.
"The Guild," I began.
"Mercer gave me an ultimatum," Brynjolf went on.
He rose to his feet, brushing snow from his pants.
"Stay, leave you to rot in that cell, or save you and leave the Guild," he finished.
He smiled.
"I chose ."
There was more he didn't say but I heard the unspoken words drilled home by Rossara's fierce gaze. Brynjolf hadn't just chosen. He'd chosen me. Above his Guild, his friends,family,associates. Above his home. He'd chosen me. I stared at him, letting the full weight of it sink in. Maybe there was more to this thief than I thought. No wonder Nocturnal wanted him back. I opened my mouth then closed it again, not sure what to say, not sure how to hold back the emotions I was still trying to keep locked in. I owed Nocturnal many thanks for the taking of my memories. It made it easier to control my emotion without having to worry about other times associated with those emotions. Brynjolf was smiling at me, sensing the clear internal dilemma.
"Lass," he began.
"Enough," I said, backing hurriedly away, out of his reach.
If he touched me again, I wasn't sure I could keep myself from more tears.
"I need to see Lilith," I decided on.
I looked at Brynjolf head on.
"Take me to Lilith."
I knew Rossara and Cicero were listening but my reputation be damned.
"Just you."
AN: So, I know this took forever for me to upload and I apologize to those who may or may not have been dying for the new chapter. All of my works kinda got cast to the wind since I sold my soul to Wal Mart. I fully intend to work my butt off tomorrow (my day off) to roll out a chapter if not half of one.