Author's Note: It's a thing!

I should not write when I'm sick but then I wouldn't write at all.

Long delay. Sorry.

Disclaimer: That thing, I don't own it, etc. etc. etc.

Nobody Important

Chapter Thirty-Six: Mutilation

In which hands are bloodied.

By: N3k0

Two Speakers lay motionless on the floor, their blood adding to the reek of gore in the room.

HE stood triumphant over them, knife clutched in a white-knuckled grip.

And she smiled.

Here was the reason Vicente died.

Here was the reason her family had died.

Here was the reason Lucien was dead.

Here was the reason the Brotherhood was crumbling.

And it was just a man. A simple man, flesh and blood. He had a face. He had all the frailties of humanity at its best - and he was not at his best.

He was a madman, and he had to die.

That, she understood.

"No!" The high elf screamed her denial, and Lyssi ignored it. All that mattered was her enemy.

A shadow split from the rest, a lizard-man, Argonian, with strong arms that wrapped themselves around her prey, holding him still. Excellent. She bared all her teeth in a grin, walking slowly as the human tried to escape.

The human knew fear. He reeked of it, his stench overpowering even the mess of the room.

"You will die," she murmured. "For your crimes, you will die."

Slowly.

She caught his eyes with hers.

Here was Mathieu Bellamont. He loved his dead mother dearly, and never really got over her loss. Lucien Lachance was the assassin who had killed her. Mathieu still saw her head roll across the floor every time he closed his eyes. It invaded everything he did.

He wanted, more than anything, to kill the Night Mother.

Here was she. Silencer. Pawn. Her hands stained with the blood of HIS victims.

She ruined everything by giving his very soul away to that Altmer bitch.

"They're dead," the woman whispered, drawing Lyssi's focus outward again. She saw the man, Bellamont, as he was, a tiny, scared shell of a human, covered in blood and his own urine. He knew who she was, what she was, and he knew he was going to die so close to his goal he could taste it. He couldn't meet her eyes again, his gaze caught on her teeth. As though she'd drink his filthy blood.

"You will mutilate your own body, as you have maimed the Brotherhood." She heard her voice speak the words, though she could barely believe she said them. "Start by gouging your own eyes."

She met the Argonian's - Eshk's - eyes, nodding once. Though she read mistrust in the lizard's expression, he released the man's left hand, the blade hand. It trembled as Mathieu moved to obey her command.

When both eyes were slit and bleeding, pink tears rolling down his cheeks as he begged her not to continue, she spoke again. "Now cut your snake tongue out." It was barely above a whisper, but in the silence of the room it carried ominous weight.

He gagged on the blood as he fell to the floor. The lizard was obviously horrified. He'd let go of the prey.

Not like she needed physical restraints anyway ...

Crimson spilled from his mouth, garbled half-words escaping between his gurgling breaths.

She ordered him to cut each finger off of his right hand, then bite each finger off of his left.

Only when that was completed did she heal his wounds shut, keeping him from bleeding to death, but only barely. He would never speak with another again.

She looked around, expression dull as she met the Altmer's eyes, then the Argonian's.

Neither spoke.

There was a dull roaring in her ears. She felt every wound on the prey's body as though she'd carved them into her own flesh. Her eyes hurt, her hands hurt.

The world spun, already gray at the edges. She sank to the ground quietly as it finished going dark.

Some time later, she woke to see a Khajiit's furry muzzle filling her field of view.

Her whole body ached.

"The hunter wakes. This is good." The Khajiit smiled, showing all her teeth. "Ri'asha learns restoration to drain the life from foes, not so much to put it back in. She will tell Arquen; then we can begin, yes?" Ri'asha clapped her hands once, then disappeared, leaving Lyssi bewildered.

She peeked under the covers, inspecting her own body. Apparently, someone had meticulously tended to her lingering aches and pains - probably the Khajiit. Hnh.

Lyssi forced herself to sitting, a soft groan escaping her. Had it really only been a couple of days since she'd been skewered on that Daedra's sword? Surely not. Surely it was closer to a month ... no, it was really only a couple of days.

And now, here she was, donning the fine silk robe of a Speaker of the Black Hand, filling the void she'd helped to create. Strange how things had gone.

The house she woke in was nice for a house. The place was dusty and unused, uncluttered with the odds and ends of day-to-day living. But, the things that did fill it were things of quality.

A shadow detached itself from the wall as she strapped her blades to her person. She drew one, turning to face the shadow head on. He lifted his hands defensively, and she recognized the Argonian then: Eshk, the assassin Lucien had sent after her.

"I don't like you," he began.

She raised an eyebrow, gesturing with the dagger for him to continue.

He looked away. "I hate you. What you did, it infuriates me."

"I know." She nodded once. By Sithis, but she hated herself, too.

When he settled his gaze back on her, it was unsettling, cold. "I don't have to like you. I don't even have to tolerate you."

"I won't let you kill me."

He nodded in return. "I know. There has ... it's strange to say this, but there has been too much death already." His voice was quiet, solemn. "And, despite my feelings, the Night Mother will forgive you."

She shook her head. "I will never forgive myself."

"Then why did you kill them?"

Someone had thoughtfully repaired her gear, sharpening her blades and mending the straps. She looked down, turning away. She was fully aware of the risk, but she knew he wouldn't kill her without his answer.

"If not me, then who?" Shaking her head, she smiled sadly. "The Purifiation was ordered." She realized belatedly she held the Blade of Woe - the first knife she'd used to kill. "If not me , then someone else." Someone who didn't care. Someone who would make it hurt. They were already dead. Dead because of the traitor. Her hands did the work, but it wasn't her decision. She couldn't have stopped it, and trying would have only gotten her killed, too. "If not me, then you."

He stared her down, his expression cold when she finally met his eyes. Still, he nodded once.

"Arquen sent me to fetch you, you know."

She raised her eyebrow, tilting her head to the side.

"We must consult the Night Mother."