Chapter Two: The Family
"Welcome to the Inn of Ill Omen!" Was the greeting the young Khajiit received as she walked into the Inn where old Rufio was to sleep his last. The friendly inn owner, a man of thirty-seven, smiled at her as she walked over, "My dear lovely Khajiit, can I get you something? A room? Food or drink?"
Mara smiled politely at him and shook her head, "No, thank you, sir. I was wondering, though, would you mind telling me where Rufio is? My mistress is his niece and she wishes me to relay a message to him." She lied masterfully, and it was good enough to fool the bartender. After all, as an ex-member of the Thieves Guild, she had to know how to lie, and lie well.
"That ole codger? Yeah, he lives downstairs by himself, but don' expect a warm welcome. He's not quite right in the head. Not that I can complain, though, young miss. He pays his tab on time and doesn't get in any trouble."
She smiled again. "Thank you, sir." However, the thought of taking away such a faithful customer nagged at her – that, plus the gnawing of her starving stomach, as she hadn't eaten in days – so she said, "On second thought, may I have some bread, cheese, and a few apples, good sir?"
His face brightened even more, as if it was possible. "Yes ma'am!"
Soon, the food and gold exchanged hands and the young Khajiit woman thanked the innkeeper for his help and food and headed downstairs to find Rufio. Once down the ladder, she headed all the way down the hall and found his door unlocked. She snuck inside, locked the door behind her, and, after hiding the key, she walked over to the sleeping man.
He was old, at least fifty, and his brown hair was beginning to gray. He was lying on his bed without any blankets on top of him, and appeared to be in a troubled sleep. She couldn't help but sneer at the thought that soon, oh so very soon, he'd be in such a sleep that from which he would never awaken. Ironic, wasn't it. Perhaps even poetic.
From her hip, her blade seemed to hum in anticipation for its first kill, and Mara was forced to pull it out of its sheath, though she held it where he couldn't see it once he awoke. She put a pale white hand against his shoulder and shook gently.
His eyes fluttered open, "H-Huh? Who 're you?" The smell of ale was evident on his breath, and Mara was forced to wrinkle her nose.
"Tell me, Rufio. What have you done to earn the honor of becoming my wonderful blade's first kill, hmm? What have you done to earn the hatred of a man? And the kind of hatred that resorts in him calling the Night Mother to get the revenge he cannot get for himself?" Her voice was so low, so soft, it scared even her. Her fur stood on end.
"N-Night Mother…? What are you – no! No, please!" His eyes widened in recognition, and panic. "I-I didn't want to kill her! Her neck was so beautiful, so pale; I didn't want to cut it! But…but she wouldn't stop struggling, you see! I told her to stop, tried to coax her to hold still, but she wouldn't listen! Please, no!!"
He scrambled off of the bed and ran towards the door, only to find it locked. He turned around in panic, back pressed flat against the door, and stared at Mara in fear, only to find her staring at him blankly. Numbly.
He had raped and killed a woman. And then ran from his crimes – and it was her job to make sure he finally paid for it. Memories of a moment in history flashed through her mind.
M'varo…S'kyvera…little A'nuia…
She shook her head furiously, and she looked over at Rufio. Oh, yes, she'd make sure justice was done.
He died after one slash, but she didn't stop until long after his body began to grow cold, for her fury, rage, and sorrow ran so deep in her blood. Once she was done, her blade was bloody, and her clothes, the walls, and the door, but still, she had never felt so clean. Exhausted, she stumbled over to his bed, and passed out.
The last thing she remembered was hearing the soft 'clang' of her blade hitting the floor after it slipped from her numb fingers…
When she awoke, all she felt, all she saw, was a warm, comfortable darkness surrounding her. She struggled to open her eyes, but found she was way to tired to even halfway succeed, so she continued to lay there, basking in the odd sense of solace and release she hadn't felt in oh so long. However, as she drifted in and out of consciousness, she heard many different voices talk. They all sounded far away, even though they were so very clear.
"D'ya think she'll be okay? 'S been a week, Ocheeva."
"She'll be fine. Our Dark Mother has brought her to us, and our Dread Father accepted her. She will survived, and become a welcome addition to our family."
"Yes, Ocheeva."
And then what seemed like less than a second later, other voices were talking; these were completely different from the ones before.
"Vicente, I really think that M'jaar isn't trying as hard as he can to heal her. Usually, he can heal us with no problem, but this one is taking way to long. Do you think he wants her to die?"
"Brother, I am surprised. Though, not really. M'jaar knows the Five Tenets prevents him from killing, and that means allowing another Brother or Sister to die. So, no, he will not. Though, he's probably making sure she stays like this for as long as he wants her to."
"I think someone should talk to him about that…"
And then another voice spoke, "She'll be fine! I do not slack of at any time! You both know that!" And then a hand pressed against her forehead in the darkness. Warmth filled her body, and then everything disappeared.
"Quick, Gogron, go get Ocheeva. She is awakening." A calm male voice commanded as Mara felt everything finally come back to her.
Strength, warmth, and comprehension returned to her body and mind and she finally forced her eyelids to open. As she did so, she noted that no longer was she in the Inn of Ill Omen, but was, instead, in a large stone room with a desk, table, chair, and a comfy bed, upon which she was lying
Above her stood a tall elfin man, though she didn't know what kind of elf he was exactly. He had blood-red eyes, which gave away his secret. Well, that and the shape of his face did. She tensed, and he couldn't help but chuckle.
"Do not be alarmed by my…condition. You are part of the family; I will not harm you." He smiled reassuringly down at her.
Mara looked up at him, confusion evident on her face. However, she asked, "Where-Where am I?"
"The Dark Brotherhood sanctuary in Cheydinhal. But, to by more accurate, you are in Ocheeva's bedroom." He saw her struggle to sit up, and helped her, "I am Vicente Valteri."
"Mara." The striped Khajiit propped up on her elbows and looked at the vampire for a moment before inquiring, "How did I get here? Did you bring me here?"
He chuckled warmly, "No, I did not. Lachance did. He found you, and brought you here. However, you can thank M'jaar-Dar over there for your improved health." The vampire pointed his head over to a tawny Khajiit who was sleeping in a cramped wooden chair, purring so softly Mara was sure that only she could hear him. "He's the only healer we have."
She looked over at the older Khajiit and her ears drooped, "I'll tell him when he wakes up." Mara managed to turn in the bed and swing her legs off so she was sitting up by herself, without the aid of the back of the bed. She looked back at Vicente and then stood.
However, she stumbled, but the vampire caught her, "Easy now. Ocheeva wouldn't like it very much if I allowed you to fall on the stone floor, would she?" He smiled.
"Ocheeva…?" She vaguely remembered hearing the voices talking about someone named Ocheeva, but who was she? The name sounded Argonian, and it probably was, but who was she among the Dark Brotherhood? "Who is Ocheeva?"
"I am." A female voice said, and Mara looked over.
A red-scaled Argonian woman stood in the doorway, clad in all black, so only her face and tail was visible. She held a look of pure kindness in her eyes as she walked over, and held out her hand to the Khajiit. When Mara took it, she pulled her into a warm hug.
"So good to see you up and about, Sister." She said, releasing her, "When Lucien brought you here, I figured it would take much longer for you to heal. But, as you are well now, would you care for a tour? And to meet the rest of your new family?"
Family.
That word bit deep into Mara's heart, for she hadn't ever really had a family. A few close friends, perhaps, and even one lover – but she never had a family. The Thieves Guild was something of a family, though no one really cared for one another. They only worked together when a higher up was in trouble, but not when other Footpads were.
Ocheeva must have noticed something was wrong, for she said, "Is something wrong, Dearest Sister?"
The Khajiit looked up, startled, but then said, "No, nothing…Sister. Um, a tour would be lovely." She looked over at M'jaar and Vicente, and then looked at Ocheeva, "And I would be most appreciative if you would help me with the introductions."
"Then follow me." She smiled, and left the room.
Two days later, Mara knew everything there was to know about the sanctuary and its occupants.
For example, she knew that Teinaava and Ocheeva were egg-mates. Twins. And that Telandril and Gogron gro-Bolmog, the Orc that had been sent to find Ocheeva when she had awoken, were seemingly together – and Gogron boasted he had the undergarments to prove it. Also, he knew everyone's back story and the reason why the joined the Dark Brotherhood.
Well, everyone except the tawny Khajiit that had healed her. M'jaar-Dar was snide, snarky, and just plain mean to her, though he seemed to be nice to everyone else. He had even implied that, had the Five Tenets not stopped him, she would have been one of his victims. And that thought made her fur bristle.
Everyone else was so nice, and he…he was the biggest butt-licker she'd ever met.
She sighed as she placed her head down on the table, rattling the metal plates and cups. Her tail twitched slightly, as well as her ears, but before she could look up to see who had entered, the bench she was sitting on gained weight on one side, tipped slightly, and Mara went sliding into the person with a soft 'oof'.
A deep voice chuckled, "Sister, we need to quit running into each other like this." The man adjusted so the bench sat properly – with all four feet on the ground. Apparently, he had done it on purpose.
"Aye, that we do, Gogron." The Khajiit agreed, rubbing her head where it had hit his armor. "But it would also help if you stopped doing it on purpose." She playfully smacked his arm with the back of her hand.
"But then how would I ask what's wrong with you?"
"Like that." After a moment, she sighed, "What's that…that housecat's problem?" She sneered as she said 'housecat'. That was one of the lowest things you could call a Khajiit, especially from a fellow Khajiit, and she was more than willing to call M'jaar-Dar that.
"M'jaar? He just hates newcomers. Don' worry, he'll eventually get used to you." He put a hand on top of her head, "An' before you ask, no, you can't kill him. Even though he wants to get rid of you."
She made a noise, but didn't respond otherwise. Hopefully, the huge Orc was right. Maybe, just maybe, after she proved herself to him and the others, he'd eventually get off his high horse and leave her alone. Okay, probably not, but well, she could hope, couldn't she?
Gogron gro-Bolmog smiled and removed his hand before standing, "I'd better go. It's my turn to do the shopping," he winked, "and you know that if I don't go, there won't be any beer or drink for a whole month." And then he left her.
Mara watched him leave with those jade-colored eyes of hers and then smiled, shaking her head. Nine Devine above, he was probably the closest thing to a real older brother she'd ever have, even if they weren't anywhere near close to being the same race.
Goldie: You read, now review. Please.