YOU MAY RECOGNISE SOME OF DIABLOS' POEM EXCERPTS FROM OBLIVION (MATHEIU BELLAMONT'S DIARY) AND I PICTURE THEM AS THE SAME KIND OF PERSON... BUT YOU'LL HAVE TO WAIT AND SEE WHY :)
THIS CHAPTER IS A LITTLE DISTURBING, SO DON'T SAY I DIDN'T WARN YOU. RATED M FOR A REASON (ASTRID/SILVANUS LEMON, AND DESCRIPTIONS OF RAPE AND MURDER)
The Night Mother's embrace was cold and unforgiving. Walking into it opens a pathway to a new life... Of murder, pain, and hell. Diablos had been forced into the arms of his new mother... And he hated it. It was cold in Skyrim's wastelands, but not as cold as his heart was. Miserable, he walked alone through the pine forest, as the snow came down on his head like teardrops from the heavens. Teardrops were sliding down his face, too, as he knelt to the ground, and felt the agony of his kills wash over him... The snow bit at him, but he paid it no heed, and lay his cheek to the ground, cowl covering his face, as he whispered to the cold floor:
"What have I done?" Diablos lay there, on the floor of the pine forest, and let the snow settle on his back. Perhaps he would die, and be reunited with his family... But no. His soul was promised, now, to the Void... There was no hope of redemption. To all who saw him, then, he was a frozen statue; he did not move as the cold wind blew hard. The hot tears that emerged melted the snow briefly as they dropped to the floor, only to be replaced. It was early evening, but he took no notice of time... His heart, his very soul, missed his family. His mother and father. Gone. Because of Vassago. But he'd had his revenge, now, he'd stabbed the bastard... But, oh Gods, didn't that make him just as bad as his previous master? He was free at last. Shouldn't he be happy? Quoting from his latest poem, he whispered to the air: "When in snow I like to lie, and fold my arms, and wait to die..." the words left his blood red lips, and carried on the breeze...
He lay there, as his poem's words said, waiting to die. Perhaps, if he waited long enough, he would just freeze to death. Even if he would go to the Void, at least it would be an escape from this world of hell... Slowly, Diablos knew it in his heart of hearts, he was going insane. Not insane like Cicero, of whom he'd been told, but quietly insane, brooding, dark. Thumping his fist in the snow, he buried his pale face deep, and waited for the grip of death, waited for it with willing... Ever since he'd seen Scarlett and Xindal together, he'd wanted to die. How could she? She'd not been cruel to him, before that: she'd been unemotional, but he knew that was just her way. Even now, she treated him like a friend... Mother Mara, why? And why with that fool Xindal, who barely knew her! Tears came hot and fast now, as he pictured himself stabbing a knife into that demon's heart, cleaving off his head... But no. Diablos was not evil. He couldn't kill, even for Scarlett, it made him feel sick... But now he was insane, and he knew it. So, perhaps, could he now? Kill people? Kill Xindal? Kill... Kill Scarlett? He loved her. He loved every inch of her beautiful, terrible body... Perhaps she was a succubus. That was why she'd fallen for Xindal, a demon. That was why she tortured him so, without even knowing it...
Standing up, head bowed against the wind, he wiped snow from his face. He was alone in the world now: Scarlett didn't love him, his parents were long gone, he had no family left, and now Vassago, horrible as he may have been, was gone. Vassago had been the last person he'd had left: he'd hated him, despised him, perhaps, and wanted revenge for the death of his parents... That had been his only goal in the world. To kill Vassago. To end that miserable, lying bastard's life. And now, now he'd finally done it... Life was bleak. He had no purpose. Walking to a tall, snow covered pine tree, he began to bang his head, many times, against it's trunk, hoping that each hit on his heartbroken skull would end his life, end his meager existance... But none did. He let himself fall backwards, and tried to imagine the snow around him was Scarlett, embracing him, holding him in a lover's embrace... But no. The image would not come. Diablos, Daerthis, or whatever his true name was... Was depressed.
"As you lie, the dark man comes,
And ruins you, then makes you die My master's hands are stained with guilt,
Because he killed the life we built..." memories of his mother came flooding back to him... Oh his poor mother. Lying in a puddle of her own blood, as Vassago had raped her, while he and his father, bound to the walls, watched in anguish... Her desperate screams filled Diablos' mind, and he tried to fight them, holding his hands over his ears and screaming, as he remembered Vassago's pleasured grunts, and his mother's pained shrieks... And then he'd buried his knife in her neck whilst still inside her, dumped his load in her dead body, then turned, eyes malicious, to watch Diablos and his father, squirming against their binds, screaming and screaming and screaming! The bastard Imperial had killed his father: he'd stuffed the knife down his throat, and practically torn out his innards... Then, after cutting the mutilated corpse down, the bastard had turned to the child who lay, squealing like a pig, for his parents, as he watched them lying on the floor, bathing in their own blood... Vassago had asked him his name, then cut him down, stripped him from his clothes and made him wear rags, before stealing everything of value in their small cottage, and informing the boy that he was now a slave, and would die when Vassago grew bored of him...
And then Vassago had violated him. Diablos bit his lip at the memory. Again and again, until finally he'd left Diablos in a puddle of blood, sweat, and semen, as the child cried for his loss of innocence... Ever since that fateful day, he'd dreamed of escape, of a girl who he could share his life with, and forget about the Imperial who had ruined his life... But revenge grows when left alone. Slowly, over the years, the black infection called revenge grew in him, until it took over his very soul... Originally, the Nord had dreamed of prolonging it, violating Vassago like many years ago he'd been violated; he had dreamed of laughing as Vassago cried... But he was a good person at heart. He could never do that sort of thing, even if he fantasised about it. "Alone in the cold, a child cries,
He watches as his family dies,
He thought that he could never feel worse pain,
But the blood on his hands will wash off in the rain."
On the ground, he looked blearily to the sky, and watched the violet sky, obscured by pine branches. The crunch of snow behind him alerted him to another's prescense and, turning around, to his shock, he saw Silvanus behind him. Handsome, talented, evil Silvanus... Their eyes met. Electric, ruthless blue, on empty brown... "I was listening. You've got talent." said the man who Diablos so admired, coming to stand over him. Although his face betrayed no emotion, his voice was quiet and brooding... Recently, they'd begun to get along well. Diablos counted him as a friend, even if Silvanus only saw him as a desperate little kid. The Nord faced him, smiling bitterly. "Not really. I'm just over emotional."
"I see." Silvanus' eyes seemed to pierce into him, scanning him. His eyes were narrowed. Somehow, Diablos was certain that the Breton could sense something in him: thoughts of betrayal, thoughts of running away, thoughts of killing Xindal and Scarlett... They looked at each other for a few moments. Then, the older youth walked away without another word, disappearing into the blizzard, holding up his hand in farewell... It had been a brief conversation, but now, the younger felt an odd sense of forboding. Then, with a sigh, he sat back and rested his head against the tree trunk, and shut his eyes, trying to block out his mother's screaming in his head.
"From whence the mist and darkness comes,
You emerge among the forsaken,
Alone, you stumble, your eyes reflect fear,
Together, Scarlett, we can escape from the taken," he'd imagined singing it to Scarlett, before. His voice was husky and low, and he'd been aspiring to be a bard, as well as a writer and a poet, when he was a child. But now... Now there was no chance of that. Unless, perhaps, he could leave Skyrim... Could he leave his homeland? Go to Cyrodiil, or High Rock, where he could find his feet and escape the Brotherhood forever? Over time he could forget about Vassago, about the thing he'd seen, about Scarlett... "Oh Mother Mara, why have you done this to me?" he whispered to the skies, burying his face, yet again, in the snow, and enjoying the delicious numbness. He could picture them together, Scarlett and Xindal: kissing, touching... He let out a low moan. He'd known her longer than Xindal! He'd been more devoted to her! Gods, he practically worshipped her, and she knew it! And he'd thought she hated Xindal, that strutting peacock, but no, nobody could hate him. Gritting his teeth, he seethed, hating him with all his shrunken heart. Before collapsing, again, into the snow, he muttered the last verse to his sad melody: "Scarlett, I am so afraid,
Scarlett I miss you,
Scarlett I just want, You to kiss me again." as he sang the last haunting note, he lay on the snow, and slept. Later that day, he would awaken, and return to the sanctuary. But plans were building in his head, plans of killing, deceit, escape...
And if Scarlett didn't love him, she would die with the rest of them. Chuckling bleakly, the insanity took him over, as he walked, like a dead man, towards the sanctuary, murder in his intentions.
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Silvanus entered the sanctuary, covered in snow. Shivering, he removed his cowl, and threw it on the bench by the exit, before shaking droplets from his hair. Then, beginning to walk down the stairs, the Breton smelt cooking and grinned. Andromeda, one of the new initiates, was a fantastic cook and, although he never actually ate the food she cooked, he liked the aroma of it in the air. As she was a Bosmer, she cooked with meat and meat only, and now the smell of roast venison filled the air. He could hear laughing from below and, as he walked into the entrance hall, saw Scarlett and Xindal sitting on one of the benches, heads close together, whispering. As soon as Silvanus entered the room, they flew apart, staring at him with wide eyes. But the Breton youth chuckled, and walked into his and Astrid's room, shutting the door carefully behind him. He knew that Astrid wholeheartedly didn't approve of her daughter's new boyfriend, and he certainly wasn't going to upset her.
Astrid was leaning over a map in her room, tracing over it with one, slim finger. She hadn't, apparently, noticed he'd entered, she was so engrossed; he took this as a good thing, and walked up quietly behind her, leaning over her. Then, he wound his arms around her waist, head on her shoulder. "Brother." she said, doing her oh so seductive smile at him, eyes flitting to look at him, hands not leaving the map. She was toying with him today... and he liked that. Leaning down, he brought his lips to her neck, and began to kiss her softly. Keeping up her mistress like facade, she breathed, "Someone has talent..." before moving her own lips to his earlobe, and kissing it gently, before biting. He let out a low hiss of pain, and Astrid took that to her advantage, switching their positions, as he was forced back against the table. Kissing passionately, he moved his hand to her breast, and began to gently massage it, but the Nord woman had other ideas in mind. Biting his lip hard enough to draw blood, she withdrew the Blade of Woe from her belt, and pressed it to his neck. Feeling the cold metal against his skin, he chuckled darkly, as they smirked at each other. His hand was holding her leg up, so their crotches were rubbing together, his hand on her breast. One of her hands was around his neck, the other holding the hilt of the dagger as she sank it slightly into his skin. Beads of blood appeared, and she leant her head forwards to lick them off, throwing the dagger to the floor. He moaned at the feel of her tongue on his neck, then pushed her backwards onto the floor.
She sprawled onto the cold floor, and immediately he straddled her, looking down dominantly. Silvanus leant down to kiss her, but was stopped as she flipped him over, and took the dominant position. With a low hiss, he decided to give her first pleasure. Bringing his hands to the neck of her shrouded armour, he pulled it down with some difficulty: Astrid was very slim, and the armour was incredibly form fitting. He almost lost his patience, and growled, but she smiled seductively, and helped him by shrugging her arms out of the sleeves. Then, she let her bra slide off, and he looked at her admiringly. Astrid laughed, and leant down to kiss him again. As they kissed, tongues battling, she pulled off Silvanus' armour, and removed her own, and they lay on the floor together, completely naked, touching each other as their lips met, again and again. Finally, tiring of submission, Silvanus flipped the positions again, and entered her briskly before she had time to protest. They both gasped, and then, as their hips bucked together, began to moan. Neither cared that Scarlett and Xindal were probably still outside: all that mattered to them was each other, as they licked and bit at each other, mating like animals, as the pleasure filled the room like wildfire. Finally, after what seemed like centuries to the two lovers, they both released at the same time.
Wanting even more, Astrid gestured for Silvanus to stand up. Kneeling on the floor, she grinned in her own way, a way that nobody could duplicate, and began, to the Breton man's incredible pleasure, licking him. Teasing him with her tongue, she waited until he was at full mast again, before bringing herself down on him again. Riding him, they enjoyed several more orgasms, before both flopped on the floor, a sheen of sweat covering both of their bodies, and lying together. After a while, they both sat up, and Silvanus, after pulling his pants, went behind his lover, and began to massage her back gently. "That was... unexpected." The Nord woman said, before groaning in delight as he rubbed a knot of pleasure. He grinned. "Aren't I always?" they both chuckled, and she leant back her head against his chest, enjoying the sensation of him rubbing her back. Their child was, even then, growing in his mother's womb. Things were good.
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Arcturus watched from the Void, a small frown on his handsome face. Turning around, as he heard a polite cough. He smiled. Lucien Lachance was standing behind him, bearing a pleasant smile. "Anything wrong, brother?" In life, they'd all called Arcturus Listener. However, in death, he no longer held that title. And anyway, he didn't expect Lucien, his closest friend, to use such formalities. Shaking his head, the Imperial beckoned to his friend to stand by him. Looking down, they watched the sanctuary intently. "Too many hormones. Too much love... Even if it is slightly evil love." Arcturus said, sounding a little irritated. Lucien chuckled. "Written by prophecy, dear brother. If it was merely hormonal, I'd share your ideas. However, these relationships were written in the Void..."
"I never knew there was pornography written in the Void." they both laughed, averting their eyes from one particular room where slightly unspeakable things were happening, and turned their attention to the young couple speaking softly in another room. "And anyway," said Arcturus absentmindedly picking one of his nails. "If there was pornography written in the Void, then I certainly haven't come across any..."
Lucien looked at his friend, and tried to work out if he was joking or not. After a few seconds, he shifted slightly further away from Arcturus, a disturbed look on his face.
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Phew! That was an awkward chapter to write. Apologies if anyone was shocked by the lemon, and I hope it disturbed y'all sufficiently ;) Next chapter is up tomorrow if I can find the time. Happy mother's day (for tomorrow)! Lachance