I pushed myself up in a flash and threw on my mage's cloak. I was thirteen, and was already better at magick than most people three times my age. I coughed as I inhaled, realizing that they'd set our estate ablaze. I flung open the door, only to find a burning plank in my way. I heard my little brother's coughing and wheezing from down the hall. His asthma. Damn it all, if I didn't get to him he'd die. I put up a small frost spell to stop the burning in the hallway. I pushed the beam out of the way, sprinting frantically down the hallway to his aid.

When I arrived in his room, he was passed out cold, breathing tremendously labored. I picked him up and slung him over my shoulders, charging out of the house. A bandit saw me and grabbed my arm. I grabbed his in response and singed his flesh. He cried out in pain, and I looked him in the eyes with a deadly gaze. "Believe me, there's more where that came from if you're foolish enough to try again." He looked at me with horror, as all adults did when I shot them that look. A look that always said "What has possessed a girl this young to be able to behave in such a murderous way?"

I turned and ran to the nearby maple tree, and I nestled Rielkar in one of the nooks. I secured him with a scarf I had tucked away, then jumped down to find my father. Just as I hit the ground, I heard a scream that grinded against my eardrums. A scream that would've brought me satisfaction coming out of the throat of anyone but my mother. A terrified scream of a frail woman faced with certain death. She was gone. I swallowed my emotions, and rooted myself in the now, and what I had to do.

I climbed up the tree with my brother, and examined him. I felt for a pulse, and it was very faint. He was as white as a draugr, and was barely breathing if even at all. I kept a clear head as best as I could, and pulled up my Grand Healing spell. I applied it to his chest, and then blew air back into his tiny body as well as I could. No response from him, nothing but a small grin, and a small muttering of our grand-da. With that, his frail little heart gave out, and I scooped him up into my arms as I kissed his forehead. He'd never even done anything to anyone. What in Oblivion had he done to deserve this?

I saw the bandit that I'd burnt meet up with a stronger one, and say "Well, did you take him down?" He nodded, still gasping, and said "Aye, that we did. He sure put up one heck of a fight. He died with no fear, though. I'll give him that much. Fool should've been more worried for his life." It hit me. My father. They'd killed my father. I had no family, no relatives, nowhere to turn. These bastards had taken everything that was important to me in a matter of minutes.

I felt a fiery pit of rage well from within me, and I was ready to kill every person on the face of Nirn. I could've taken on the hordes of Oblivion. Just as the bigger one said "By the Nine, lad, what happened to your arm?!" I jumped out of the tree on all fours, still looking at the ground. They jumped and looked at me strangely, but the man I burned gasped. I slowly stood up, the flames of my home reflecting in my eyes. With a blank expression, I said "Might I ask, just what was it you and your herd were searching for?"

The burned one turned as white as a sheet, while the other one just snorted an arrogant response. "Coin and jewels, what else? And, apparently a very pretty young lass." I didn't even flinch, and I looked him straight in the eyes with a stare of death. His eyes grew slightly, and I said in a flat tone, "Hmm. Was it worth losing your life?" He had just enough time to get a quizzical look on his face, and I'd shot thousands of volts of electricity surging through both of them.

I looked into their eyes, and watched as the life left their bodies, and they dropped to the ground. Hearing the commotion the rest of his clan came around to face me. They looked to their boss, and then to me. I pulled up two giant Fireballs, and sent them flying. They were engulfed in towering flames, and as they screamed, I turned and sent a blizzard to my home, making the flames subside. I turned back to the burning people, and froze them with a spell that took out all of my remaining magicka. A spell for ice that would melt next to never.

They were frozen with flesh melting off their bones, and looks of despair. I looked upon them, then I turned to look at what was left of my house. I picked up a piece of the ice cold rubble, and looked at it for a moment before sticking it in my pouch. I stood at the door of the estate, and went to reach for the handle, but in the end decided not to go in. I stood there helplessly staring at the door, wondering where I would go from there.

I was pulled abruptly out of my reverie by someone placing a hand on my shoulder. I felt that this person meant me no harm, not that I cared at that point. I didn't turn around to face him, but he spoke with a tone that implied a smile. "That, my dear, was quite a spectacle to behold. Where did you learn to cast spells like that?" I turned around to face him, and he looked to be a man in his early forties, and was clad in dark robes with a deep crimson, and a black hand on the front. He was looking down at me with a look of amazement and fulfillment, but also a hint of the way my father used to look at me.

I looked him in the eyes and said "I found out I had a natural ability for it, then studied at the College where I surpassed those three or four times my age in magicka." He smiled down at me, then I looked past him, sensing a strange presence. I saw the blue specter of a man looking over the ice sculpture I'd made. He seemed to be admiring it, by the way he dared not touch it. I remembered this man. I'd seen portraits of him somewhere before…

Then it hit me. Arch-Mage Victor Valtieri took me into his study on frequent occasions. He claimed that this was a legendary Speaker for the Dark Brotherhood from the days of the Oblivion Crisis. He spun me a tale of deception and betrayal, and how his father and mother, Vicente and Victoria Valtieri, were among those who had to be slain for the Purification of the Cheydinhal Sanctuary. How this man was a great mind, and never made a move without the counsel of his Silencer and wife, who was one of the best mages to grace the face of Cyrodiil. How she had deep red hair and green eyes just like mine, and a glorious name to match: Chrysia.

When the Victor saw me, he grasped my arm, and said "What is your surname, child?" I looked him in the eye, and his eyes widened as they met mine. "I don't have one. I was adopted." He said "My dear, sweet child. Please come with me to my quarters." As we fast-paced our way up the winding staircase, I heard him muttering, but I could only pick up bits of it, like "Could she be..." and "Father Sithis, if she is…" When we got up to his room, he locked the door behind him.

He pulled a sheet off the wall, and a portrait of a dark, glorious looking man was on the wall. I looked at him strangely, trying to recall him. "Do you know who this man is, child?" I squinted as I looked at it closely, and said "I feel like I know him, but I can't imagine where from." He looked at me closely, and said "My dear, this is going to sound rather strange what I'm about to ask you, but if my suspicions are correct, I could tell you about your heritage."

That caught my attention. I'd always wanted to know about my heritage, as I had no knowledge of it whatsoever. I shot him a look that said "Yes." He grinned and said "Silence. Speaking with a look rather than words. Just like them. I believe that you are a descendant of this man. But to be sure, I must have some of your blood. I will compare it to his." I nodded, and he pulled a vial out of his pocket. I cut my hand with my steel dagger, then poured it in. He took the vial, and practically ran over to rummage through his cabinets.

When he found the old vial, he went over to the alchemy lab. I was very familiar with the art of blood comparison, so when my blood mixed perfectly with his, I knew something was going to happen. I watched as our blood turned from a deep crimson to a pitch black. Strangely, I wasn't afraid. I stared into it, in all its glorious darkness, and felt content. He looked down at me and said "It is an honor, Breanna Lachance." I looked up at him, and he led me through my genealogy.

Thus, I started a walk over to the ghost, and he seemed not to notice me approaching him. Lost in my handiwork, I suppose. He seemed to be vaguely comparing it to someone else's in his mind. Probably Chrysia's. When I got over to him, I stopped and looked up at the back of his head. "Lucien? Lucien Lachance?" He perked up at the way I said his name, and turned around to meet me. When he looked down at me, his eyes widened, and his lips parted in disbelief. I grinned up at him as the man shrouded in black came up behind me.

We simply looked into each other's eyes, speaking without speaking. That's what Victor had meant by "Silence". He stood there looking into my eyes, hearing my every thought. He knew I was his multiple-greats-granddaughter, and he could read me like a book. I was thinking "I thought all my family members were dead, but now here he is." I simply stared at him, and he picked up my hand and kissed it. When he saw the stubborn look of "I'm fine, don't fret for me.", he looked at me as if he'd seen that look a thousand times. He pulled me inward by my arm, and wrapped me in his embrace.

I welcomed it, and he spoke for the first time. "My dear, dear child. You have no reason to be afraid anymore. I am here. I will take you to a family where you will be loved and protected, no matter what. You are a Lachance, Breanna. You are a specially bred assassin." I stood there in his embrace thinking about the idea of being an assassin. I thought about the jolt of adrenaline I got from killing, and how I could freeze a grown man's blood with a look (and the amusement it caused me to do so).

I pushed myself out of his chest to look up at him with a devilish grin, and I said "All this fluff is nice, but when do I get to kill something?" He tried to keep a straight face, he really did… But he threw his head back and laughed aloud at my little comment, giving me a smile of satisfaction. He looked down and said "That's my girl. Shall we take our leave, Festus?" The old man was smiling, and said "With a Lachance prodigy who can cast spells like this, with that demeanor and enthusiasm, and is only thirteen? You're damn right. We're getting her back to the sanctuary, posthaste."

Lucien wrapped an arm around my shoulder, and we started a walk to Falkreath. After about twenty minutes, I yawned completely beaten from the magicka exhaustion. I felt my grandfather's arm move down as he went to pick me up. I was somewhat shocked at first, but I felt a comfort in his arms that I hadn't even felt with my father. I could feel my relation to him just in the way he held himself, and the way he spoke. I snuggled into him and wrapped my arms around his neck. After a moment, I posed the question: "So, do I call you grandfather or brother?" He smiled as he gave a reply, attempting to mask his love for me. "Whatever you like, my dear." I fell asleep in moments, with the sound of Festus saying "You're going soft, Lachance." He merely shushed the old man, and adjusted me in his arms. Thus began my life as an assassin.