"So you're the new one? Or old one, should I say? My man told me you were Dark Brotherhood before." Inside, the Listener addressed Danasi. He was a Breton, in his thirties or forties, probably, wiry in frame, dirty blond hair long enough to become messy and matted. He struck her as a sharp mind and direct, but she couldn't be sure, so long had she spent alone. She was no great judge of character any more.
"That is correct. I was an assassin in Cyrodiil, a long time ago." She was going to be vague, using the amulet to its full advantage. The Sanctuary was very different to the one she remembered. Large, more of a cave than the house-like build at Cheydinhal, draughty. But it reminded her of her fort, having all that space to herself, so she felt comfortable enough so far.
"And why did you leave?" The Breton's eyes, piercing blue, observed her while she contemplated her answer.
"It was... over. Cyrodiil, my family... everything was a mess. I couldn't do anything more. Starting fresh, I suppose."
The Breton raised an eyebrow. "Yes, there has been a lot of trouble in Cyrodiil. Your Sanctuary destroyed or abandoned, was it?"
Danasi nodded. In a fashion, she thought.
"My condolences. We are the last Sanctuary in Tamriel. We even host the Night Mother now since her tomb in Bravil was destroyed. Let's hope our luck is better here in sleepy Dawnstar, eh?"
Thankfully he didn't seem to want to press her story further. She'd worried he may have wanted many more details but they seemed to have had their own troubles to be concerned about. But the Night Mother, here? She tried to conceal her concern. Would the amulet work on her? She wouldn't count on it, nor on her mercy for abandoning her post as Listener. "The Night Mother... is here?"
"Exciting, wouldn't you say? Yes, she is in the coffin you passed on your way in. Feel free to go to her any time. Cicero brought her here as Keeper. He will be happy to talk to you about it. He is quite mad, but loyal, I can say that for certain. Now, what is your name?"
Grateful he did not insist she visit the Night Mother in his presence, she relaxed a little. "I am Nilera." She bowed her head respectfully.
"Well, my man tells me you passed his little test perfectly, so I suppose this is 'welcome home', then, sister." He placed some armour on the table in front of her, nodded curtly and swept out of the room. Danasi looked around the cavernous hall, fire casting dancing shadows on the banners hanging from the stone walls. Perhaps she could carve some sort of life here.
Climbing the stairs back to the entrance to gather her things from the horse she had ridden here, she paused at the sight of the coffin, standing in an alcove and surrounded by candles. Not much compared to her crypt back in Bravil, hidden in plain sight beneath the Lucky Old Lady. It was closed, yet she dared not move closer. What if she was in trouble for fleeing? ...What if the Night Mother spoke to her? She was not here to take back up the reins.
Hearing voices nearby she shook herself back to her senses and hurried outside.
The Listener was drawing a horse around, preparing to ride somewhere. "Ah, just in time to meet the Family steed. If you ever get the chance to ride her you'll be wondering why you ever bothered with ponies like that," he bellowed over the wind.
Looking at his mount, Danasi's heart skipped a beat.
Those red eyes.
The Breton mistook her shock for awe, mounting Shadowmere and walking her closer. Danasi tried to shield herself behind her own horse, afraid of being revealed by her old mare.
"Don't be afraid, she won't bite unless one of us thinks it's a good idea. She is quite demonic, however. Brilliant, don't you think?" Shadowmere began to snort and shake her head, digging at the ground in Danasi's direction. "Oh, she likes you. That's good news for you. Perhaps you encountered one another before? She has been with the Family for a long time. She must be quite old, if she does indeed age at all."
Be vague, Danasi. "I would remember such a thing."
He threw back his head in laughter. "I'm sure she is seared into the memory of many, an omen of death, the red-eyed demon horse!" He paused to utter some incantation and a flash of purple emanated from his palm moments before the ghostly form of a man glowed into existence. "And this is no ordinary summoning spell- this is an assassin from times past. Quite the trio, are we not?"
Danasi nodded sagely while the man showed off a Listener's priveleges. While her head was bowed, she heard another voice, deep and rich.
"Ah, Shadowmere... my old and dear friend..."
She froze, staring at the snow by her feet. She... recognised that voice, didn't she? Looking up, she saw the blue-white apparition holding out a hand towards the horse. It was hooded and robed in clothes similar to that worn by the assassin who came to her after she performed the Black Sacrament.
The Listener was continuing. "Now these two knew each other. Lucien Lachance- you must have heard of him, yes?"
All she could do was nod lamely as the Breton turned his horse and rode away, spectre following alongside.
Throwing her possessions onto a bed tucked in the corner of the sleeping quarters, Danasi rifled through a bag, pulling out some parchment. Settling against the walls and hugging her knees, she opened the letters, reading the words Lucien had written to her in his summons and dead drop orders. Much of the ink was smeared beyond legibility now, the parchment barely keeping in one piece, but she had looked after them as best she could. She would read them when feeling strong enough to recall only the good memories. Mostly, though, they would make her feel more alone and guilty and she feared them disintegrating completely one day, so she simply looked after them, folded away, as though she kept a piece of his soul with her, protected, immortalised.
She had not gone so mad, had she? She'd seen the ghost, heard his voice. The Listener had named him. Lucien's soul really was here.
Author note: In this story, the Listener is not also the Dragonborn, but has been through the events in the Dark Brotherhood quest line from the game.