Author's Note: I haven't updated in a while because my computer died down (again and again), and even though I promised I'll update at least three days ago, I rewrote a bigger part of this chapter again. After that long wait, here we are with the chapter I didn't really want to write at first, because version-one-Niera was a bit flat. I still didn't feel satisfied with this chapter, but that's probably my biased opinion. It's pretty short, too.

-~O~-

Chapter 3: Fort Farragut

-~O~-

The moon was shining brightly, but the road was dark however illuminated by the silver light. The torchlight only reached so far before the darkness claimed the road again. The queasy feeling in her stomach did not ease with each step; it only worsened, and the burden of the duty that called her felt heavier than before. She left Cheydinhal at dusk, but it felt as if centuries passed since the thirty or so steps away from the gate. Niera never felt like this before when going through a contract.

However, this wasn't an ordinary contract.

She looked back at Cheydinhal once more for the third time that night as she continued walking east to Fort Farragut, away from her Sanctuary, away from her regular duties as an Assassin, and away from Linne.

She would never know how much I truly care, Niera thought, turning her head back towards her destination. It had been difficult with Linne over the years. The girl could be a brat, a troublemaker, and sympathetic, all in the same time if she was feeling like it. Niera saw no possible reason why she was acting the way she was.

Perhaps, after all this time, Linne never wanted to be in Cheydinhal despite her assurance of "I love Cheydinhal. I love the architectures the houses, the two the rivers, and the painter's house. Did I mention there was a Dunmer who would sing about Cliff Racers? He has a good voice. I'm not sure if he's doing it on purpose though. He looks drunk."

Great. Linne loves the architectures of the houses she could never have, the river where Niera recalled somebody committed suicide, the missing painter's house, and a homeless drunkard. As much as Niera cared for Linne, most times she could not even understand her. As if they weren't sisters at all. As if all those years, Niera knew nothing about Linne and Linne her.

She pinched the bridge of her nose to stop the headache that struck her. It was enough that her stomach felt like it was ripping herself open. She did not need her head splitting in two.

I must focus, she reminded herself, taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly, appearing as a fog in the cold evening. Niera looked back once more at Cheydinhal, before sighing and turning her attention back on the road. I must focus.

Held tightly in the hand that wasn't occupied by the task of holding the torch, was a letter.

The temptation of rereading the paper was strong enough, but Niera knew better than to stall and read the cursive lines of Lucien Lachance's writing—which was penned and worded by him, an honour that Niera knew better than to feel deserving. Still, it is an honour I rarely get, is it?

The thought was enough to make her shiver—was it because of the cold?—and her eyes betrayed her mind. A glance at the header of the letter, and suddenly she was rereading it again.

Eliminator, it began; her rank when he was writing this, no doubt. You have served the Dark Brotherhood well in the short time you have been with us. Indeed, the rate of your advancement has been rather remarkable. Now the Black Hand itself is in need of your abilities.

Her death hold on the parchment loosened as the pain stirring in her stomach eased, if only for a short moment before it struck her again, this time much more painful. What did the Black Hand want with her? What duty? Did they want to try her skills, if she was like her father? If she was a horrible servant of Sithis? Her heart beat faster, but she continued on, for a reason even she didn't know.

You must proceed with all haste to my private refuge in the ruins of Fort Farragut, located in the forest northeast of the Cheydinhal Sanctuary. When you arrive, we will discuss the nature of your special assignment. A special assignment; those words made even breathing difficult for Niera, but the longing and want of proving her worth made her breathe.

Niera swallowed the sudden tightness in her throat as she remembered the rest of the letter, the part she read again and again the most. She could not understand anything about what he wrote in the end: 'an unseen power working to unravel the fabrics of the Dark Brotherhood', whatever that meant.

Until finally, in her dazed state, it clicked. It's a trap. They want to interrogate me, see if I'm a traitor. They don't want to prove my abilities; they want to prove my loyalty. What use is my skill to them if I use it to my advantage and kill them all?

She stopped walking, considering the speculation. It was possible; in fact, why should it be anything but? If it was never an interrogation, however, but a simple task from the Speaker himself, what would that mean?

Probably, she thought as she slowly continued on the dirt and rock-strewn way, it meant I shouldn't keep him waiting as Ocheeva said.

Soon—too soon—she found a well aged fort that could only be the one Lachance cited in his orders. The stone walls of the fort contrasted the dark trees behind it, and the moonlight seemed to favour shining on the area. The momentary beauty was lost upon her as she continued to check her supplies; her trustworthy Blade of Woe, several potions to help her through the fort...

Also, be warned—my refuge within Fort Farragut is guarded by denizens who will attack any interloper on sight. Get through these rotting sentinels and you will surely have earned the right to visit my private sanctum, the letter had said.

It was wise of her to follow the letter's advice. Down to her last health potion, Niera crouched around the corridor inside the fort, with more or less the best effort she could give now at avoiding the Dark Guardian stationed nearby. Her breathing was ragged, and her feet were trembling. This was not good at all. If she was to fall down, the noise would alert the undead.

She stopped in her tracks, waiting rather impatiently for the Dark Guardian to turn around from facing her direction. Even if she was awful at archery, she wished she tried to bring a bow and arrows. Using only her daggers, she must wait for her enemies to lose their guard first. The only word to describe that feeling was tiring.

However, her wait was not in vain. At one moment, the undead turned its head away towards a sound even further in the corridor, and it was all Niera could do not to sigh and squeal in joy. She drew in a deep breath, tightened the grasp on her dagger, and one foot after another, she followed the undead as it slowly went to investigate the source of the sound.

Niera did not notice the protruding stone underneath her feet, marking her downfall. Literally.

With a gasp of shock caused by the momentum of the fall, she reached forward towards the Dark Guardian, meaning for it to go down with her. Her hand missed by inches, and as sudden as a lightning, the undead turned around. It growled and drew its blade, and Niera was still struggling to get up.

The pain from the downfall slowed her somewhat, and she was nearly butchered by the undead's sword. She aimed at its neck when it staggered itself by the almost-blow it delivered, and in one swift motion, the Dark Guardian's head rolled down the floor.

Adrenaline pumping, she kept going on, determined to get through with whatever was laid in front of her.

"Ah, you've finally arrived."

She was peaking through the door, making sure that it wasn't an unavoidable trap or a room tightly guarded by Dark Guardians, or both. The sight that greeted her was a square chamber with the Dark Brotherhood banners hanging on the walls, a bed on one far corner, a trap door on the ceiling leading to who knows where, and what should have been a relief to Niera, but in fact was not, Lucien Lachance standing in the middle of the room.

She cleared her head and drew a quick breath, exhaling as she opened the door enough so she could enter. She must not let her emotions wreck this moment. She must have a clear mind. Niera stood there, silent, unmoving, waiting to be addressed by the Speaker first. If it will be what I expect it to be, then formality would be needed.

It seemed that Lachance sensed this, and opened an arm to welcome her in. "I've been expecting you. It was good that you did not take too long."

She walked slowly and cautiously, taking in the room once again by detail. If she was fast enough, she could try to dash from the chambers through the door should things go awry... or the rope ladder leading to the trap door that she did not even know what it was hiding. A small, closed room? That could not help. The door was her best bet to escape the situation.

If every thing turned rash.

"I am at your service, Speaker," she said with a slight bow, being dead set on her formality plan, but Lachance only waved a hand in dismissal.

"You need not be so formal, dear Sister," he said almost carelessly, "This matter is urgent, and I would rather not waste our time with idle talks of fake politeness."

Lachance's reply surprised Niera, and for a moment she did not reply. Her voice left her, and instead her head nodded almost so energetically. No, focus. Regain control! "Very well. What is it that you require of me?"

"Straight to the point, the Black Hand has been experiencing a few... difficulties. I believe you heard the rumours of a traitor in the Dark Brotherhood? Surely at least Ocheeva or Antoinetta has told you," he said, never looking away, never giving Niera a chance to regain her composure.

Hoping her voice did not quaver, she answered, "I did not expect them to be more than just... simple rumours."

"We all wish they were, trust me," Lachance grumbled coldly, "The Listener has tasked us the Speakers to... oh, I nearly forgot."

The Imperial's sudden pause made Niera puzzled even more. What did he forget? He mentioned a task from the Listener. Was that what Niera's here for? That task? All the questions spun around in her mind so fast that she felt dizzy; it was already taking all the strength to stand up straight.

"Can I trust you with the duties you will be given after this meeting?" he asked, finally, after what felt like eras, "Will you always obey my word and never question a task?"

Even more questions. Niera was starting to breathe very deeply once more, and she tried to ease her headache to no avail, "You can trust me with your life."

"Good," he said, "because the duties you will be bestowed with would require me to trust you with my life."

Protecting his life... She suddenly thought of why she was here for; and it made even more sense than the 'interrogation' theory. Maybe she was summoned by Lachance to do a personal request. Something he needed done, which he trusted only to Niera. Perhaps that's all.

But... why her? Why not Ocheeva, the mistress of the Sanctuary in Cheydinhal? She obviously was in the Brotherhood much longer than Niera had been, and swore to guard the Sanctuary to boot. A Speaker's life is only one step higher than the abandoned house.

Or Vicente, who was definitely even much longer than the both of them combined. The vampire had been in the Brotherhood for... what, two centuries? More, even. And for that span, he never betrayed the Dark Brotherhood, or Sithis, or the Night Mother. He had even said to her, when they first met, that his needs as a vampire were not as important as the Dark Brotherhood.

So why me? It remained a question in her head, insulting her because she couldn't find out. She grew slightly irritated at the thought, scowled, and then remembered where she was and who she was with. It did not matter why Lachance chose her. What mattered was that she carries the duty truly.

"Perhaps you already know that every Speaker has their Silencer; a bodyguard, a companion. A Silencer is tasked to silence any who oppose the Speaker, permanently or not," Lachance explained, a small smile forming on his face, reminding Niera of their first ever encounter. In fact... he had even smiled proudly at her—

Wait. Silencer? What does this have to do with me? Niera wasn't sure where this was going, but she was sure it will involve her… Oh, shit. Silencer, Niera. Silencer! You!

Her headache mocked her as she tried to empty her face of any emotions, but it did not seem to work, for Lachance's smile dropped completely, "Why do you look uneasy at this?"

She stammered for an excuse, one in a tone of delight, another humble, but Lachance held up his hand all the same for her to stop. "Never mind that," he said, bringing out a dagger from his sword belt, "Know this, that once you take the position of Silencer, you cannot turn back. You must decide now whether or not you can be trusted with this."

He held the dagger by its hilt, meaning for Niera to take it, to vow that she would be his Silencer. She squirmed quietly at the realisation that... yes, she will be his Silencer, and she would always be at his side, ensuring his safety. However, thinking of safety only reminded her of Linne. What will happen to her if Niera was to leave her alone in Cheydinhal? She had done that previously, otherwise she would never have a single contract done. This, however, was entirely different. She could never return to Linne.

A small voice in her conscience did not win out her want to prove herself, however. "I…" she paused. Niera paled, and her heart was stuck at her throat. Her eyes glanced at the door, thinking that she could escape, she could refuse this offer, and she could keep this meeting a secret and forget everything about this incident.

But this was a once in a life time opportunity. She cannot refuse this, not ever. She would condemn her own security, but when did she ever have one? Besides, to refuse was to... to refuse was to...

To do so is to invoke the Wrath of Sithis, her mind was shouting at her, if it had a voice. Over and over again. She stood there in silence, her mouth dry. The air was colder, much colder, and she knew if Lachance had to stand there for another second, she would not make it out unscathed.

And thus was the night when the assassin took a turn in her life. "I can be trusted, my Speaker. I am your humble Silencer from this moment forth."

Lucien Lachance smiled. "A very wise decision."

She took the dagger that he held out to her, and it was done.

-~O~-

I originally planned to merge this chapter with the next one, where Lucien explains the whole AU situation. But darn it, this chapter's ending was the only thing I liked about this. I'm pretty sure there would be so many mistakes because I didn't have the time to proofread this. Again, very sorry for the late update.

anon: Thanks, I guess. Glad you found Jessi to be amusing and entertaining; she could be, sometimes, when she isn't an outright—never mind.

NicciP1991: Thank you! I'm happy you liked their banter. Josephus was really fun to write!

Boys Do Like Girls: Thanks! I find their contrast to be quite the challenge to write, but it was jolly all the same in the end (if that made sense!).