The Listener found the Dunmer woman down in the training room. He requested the other Initiate present leave them in private for a moment and approached alone from the staircase. "Nilera, I've been looking for you."
"Listener?" The elf halted, watching the Initiate leave.
"I must request a word, please." He motioned toward the table and chairs in the corner and waited for her to move. She paused a moment longer, then sheathed her blade and took a seat. He took care to usher her into the furthermost chair by the back wall, taking the one opposite, between her and the rest of the Sanctuary, himself.
"Is there a problem?"
He folded his hands in front of him and rested his forearms on the table. "No problem as such. I am trying to prevent one, actually. I merely wish to speak with you- about you. What brought you here."
She sat a moment then responded. "It was you who found me today, Listener. Perhaps you have the interest."
It took him a moment before he realised she was referring to his earlier jibe about her. Odd, he'd never heard her joke before. He laughed briefly. "I wish my interest was simply amorous. No, I'm afraid I have concerns. I am hoping you can allay them for me."
He watched the Dunmer shift in her chair, face falling ever so slightly. "Concerns?" she asked heavily.
"The Brotherhood here has changed a lot since I joined. There was jealousy, treachery, blood, we were almost wiped out. Now I am in charge I will not allow this to happen again."
"I am no stranger to this," she stated plainly.
"Then you must understand my caution, my need to know who my members are, lest we suffer any more." He let the comment hang in the air to see what it may draw from her.
She paused a long while before asking, "What do you wish to know?"
"Who were you before you arrived here?"
The woman cast her eyes down to the table. "I was nobody. Just a murderer."
Vague, the Listener thought. "A Murderer?" That was the lowest rank from the old ways, according to Cicero. "No, no, you are far too skilled not to have been anything more. What rank did you obtain?"
"I... rank? Oh, nothing important. I just killed, Listener."
She didn't want to talk about this. Interesting. "Nilera, I know dark elves are commonly morose creatures, but your self flagellation is something I've never seen outside of religious lunatics- and then not even Cicero. And I don't see you prostrating in front of the Night Mother, so it's something else. You are either very talented or were very well trained, yet you busy yourself with low profile revenge jobs. Why?"
The elf was still looking down, shifting around more now. "I don't wish to be the hero, sir. I just came home, that's all."
The Listener sat back in his seat, exasperated. This elf was hiding something. "Initiate. If you hold some shame, tell me. There are ways to absolve the issue. I cannot have you in my Sanctuary if I do not trust you around the Family."
The woman looked up in alarm, distress evident in her face now. "Listener, please... I have no ill will. I will be a true sister, I swear it."
"I cannot trust your word without knowledge you are true to it, Nilera." He waited for her to cave.
She slouched back in her chair, head down again. "...I cannot. I fear if I do..."
The Listener sighed. He'd hoped it wouldn't come to this. He was suspicious but not uncaring- one of his goals was to build the Brotherhood's strength, expand back into other Sanctuaries. He was very happy to welcome siblings from earlier days, their experience would be invaluable and he believed in following the traditions of the Night Mother. So it was with reluctance that he subtly cast a strong charm spell on the Dunmer woman while she worried into her hands. He leant across the table again, taking a less interrogative tone. "Nilera, you are skilled, part of the old ways. I could really use your experience to help our Family grow. Where did you work from, back in Cyrodiil?"
The elf struggled with her thoughts for a moment and looked up, an expression of acquiescence seeping into her features. "Cheydinhal."
"And when was this? You said a long time ago, how long?"
"I'm not sure... it was after the Oblivion crisis, when... Martin died."
"Martin... Septim?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.
She nodded, bowing her head.
That was two hundred years ago. By Sithis, she must have been a brilliant assassin to survive that long without getting caught out. "Nilera, that was two centuries ago. The Cheydinhal Sanctuary was only abandoned when Cicero left. When did you come to Skyrim?"
She stirred a little, probably sensing this was something she would not say if not under the influence of the Listener's magic. "Oh, I... I wasn't there so long... so almost two centuries ago, then."
The Listener frowned. If his history served him correctly, there was no great trouble that could have driven a Sanctuary to abandon its location near the beginning of the Fourth Era. "What have you been doing in Skyrim until you came here?"
She was becoming more troubled, but he knew the spell would yet hold. "Nothing... nothing, really... just... hiding."
"Hiding from what? What happened in Cheydinhal?"
She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, eventually speaking, quietly. "The traitor... I had to kill everyone... But he tricked us and I... I killed the Black Hand and... and my Speaker..."
By Sithis... The Listener could put the pieces together. Lucien had told him the tale of his death. It was the same story from the same time. She had to be his Silencer, the one who performed the Purification and was tricked by the traitor into killing other Brotherhood members. What a coincidence she turned up in his Sanctuary! "Nilera, I know this story. You were at the rank of Silencer, were you not?"
She nodded.
"And you were Lucien Lachance's Silencer, yes?"
She nodded again, composure cracking.
This was unbelievable. The Listener shook his head and continued with incredulity. "You have been speaking with his ghost. Why does he not recognise you?"
She held up the amulet she wore. "It seems to hide my identity."
"I see. And why are you hiding your identity from him?"
"...I cannot tell him what happened after his death," she said with some finality, sinking ever further into her chair.
The Listener leant back again. "Then I must pause before we go any further. Lucien has probably heard all of this, so far." He raised his voice and called to the other exit, "Is that so, Lucien?"
The ghostly assassin stepped into view from the staircase on the other side of the room. "Indeed, Listener," he rumbled sombrely.
"I'm sorry," the Breton turned back to the elf. "I required assistance. I cannot say I anticipated a situation like this."
Despite her dusty grey skin, the colour had drained from the Dunmer's cheeks, replaced by an unhealthy pallor. Her deep red eyes became perfect mirrors to the ghostly white glow as her pupils dilated. Frozen as a statue for a second before her reactions took hold, she stumbled out of the chair, back against the wall as she stammered in rising panic.
"No, no, no, this isn't fair, you tricked me!"
The Listener rose from his chair, ready to catch a fleeing elf. Speaking softly, as calming a horse, he moved to block her path back up the stairs. "Nilera, sit back down. We'll finish talking and everything will be fine."
This only seemed to distress her more, eyes darting this way and that as she groped her way along the wall, attempting to create distance between herself and the situation that had arisen. "No, no it isn't fair, it isn't fair!" She made a dash to escape, deftly skirting around the Listener, toppling an archery target on the way, finding her feet again quickly as she careened across the stone floor. Lucien, who had remained still besides stepping into the room at this point, moved so swiftly she could not have hoped to evade him. He caught her in his arms, pinning her close even as she thrashed in vain hopes of breaking free. "No, no, I can't, I can't do this, this isn't fair..." Her words gradually became punctuated by sobbing as her struggles ebbed away. She would have sunk to the floor if not for the ghost's hold of her, meaning she crumpled into his chest, fists still feebly pounding in a hollow show of dissent.
"Danasi," the spectre called and waited. The elf gained a little control of her sobs eventually and looked up at the ghost. Her real name, then, the Listener surmised. Lucien continued to look at her expectantly and a few moments later she lifted the amulet over her head, dropping it on the stones by her feet.
The Listener felt as though he was watching a rather private moment so retreated quietly to the alcove by the stairs.
"Dear sister... it is good to see you." He just made out Lucien's soft purr and saw the elf's head drop back onto his chest before they- he- was out of view.
Danasi shook in the ghost's cold grasp. He was not solid, it was more of a force, cool and unfamiliar, sending shivers through her. At his words she leant into him, unable to vocalise how good it felt to see him again, too. To be seen by him, finally. Now she was calming down she noticed the firm grip he still had of her shoulders, how close she was to him, how she was resting her head on him for comfort in a manner she had never ventured when he was alive, how good it felt despite what a strange sensation it was to touch a ghost, how she had brought her own hands up around his form in embrace. She closed her eyes and clung to him, bidding the moment last forever and she would never have to tell him why she was here in the first place.
She didn't know how long it had been when the dream finally ended, his hands gently urging her back. "Danasi."
Resisting his push at first, she reluctantly let go and stood back from him slightly.
"What became of you, dear child?"
The elf could interpret his question in many different ways and chose to answer with regards to the last time she saw him alive, when he commanded her to bring evidence of the traitor to Applewatch. "I came, Lucien, I did... but I was too late, I'm so sorry..."
Lucien regarded her for a moment, dropping one hand from her shoulder and raising the other to her face. "I didn't doubt you, Silencer. Do not punish yourself- they were waiting for me. Nothing could have carried you fast enough."
Danasi met his gaze, thankful for the kind words, the backwards sort of relief the news brought. "It was Bellamont. I gave him a slow death." She managed that for him, at least.
"A traitor deserves nothing less," Lucien replied with pride, removing his hand as Danasi remembered venting her horror over finding her Speaker's mutilated corpse through her own torture of Bellamont. But not before she allowed him to slaughter most of the Black Hand, who believed and helped him, watching with grim pleasure.
Silence for a moment until the Silencer spoke quietly. "I... I buried you- your...body, by the farm... I don't know if you wanted to know that." She shook her head, embarrassed and unsure if she should have spoken and trying to dispel the building tears.
The silence thickened as she sensed Lucien regarding her while he pondered how she must have found him, perhaps beyond what he experienced consciously. "It is a comfort to know. Thank you," he replied.
Danasi couldn't control herself any more and began to cry. Thinking of that day that ceased to fade in her memory, how she wished it never ended the way it did, how she wouldn't be here had he not died- she couldn't remain stoic under the weight of it. She would never have left, deserted, would not be laden with the guilt and the dread she felt currently for what she knew was coming.
"Calm yourself, sister. The Brotherhood survives, I am with our Dread Father, there is no need for sorrow any longer."
She could do nothing but shake her head as she wiped the tears as they fell.
"Danasi."
"Why can't everything be like before?" she wept meekly, more to herself than Lucien.
"Before what?"
"Please, don't," she begged.
"Danasi."
She stalled. "Before you died..."
The ghost paused, possibly considering if she had simply grieved him for two hundred years. "What happened?"
"Please..." She shook her head.
"Why did you leave Cheydinhal?"
"I can't..."
"You must." He clasped her upper arms again to prevent her backing away. "What is it you hide from me? Tell me."
There was no way out. Not now his hands were on her again. She couldn't tear herself away from that, though she knew it would not last long. "I just had to go," she forced out quietly.
A hand found her chin, forcing her face up to Lucien's. She kept her gaze from him as long as she could for she knew he would read her eyes in an instant. She couldn't manage it long.
"You feel guilty. Why?"
"Because I left, Lucien."
He merely waited for her to elaborate. He had always had a way with or without words.
"Because... nothing happened, as such, but I left, and I know I shouldn't have, and I know you will despise me." His silence was simply a signal for her to continue enlightening him. Danasi was composed now but numb. There was no way out so she told all. The words came calmly as though she was watching another. "I found them at the farm, but I couldn't prove your innocence, they wouldn't listen. They made us go to the Night Mother's crypt, to seek a Listener, and there Bellamont killed most of them. Then the Night Mother made me Listener. And I should have been honoured, and I should have stayed and rebuilt, but I wasn't and I didn't... I didn't know how to do it... working with that woman, or any of it, alone. So I left... I just hid. I was weak... I failed you... I'm sorry..."
The coldness of Lucien's touch disappeared from her arms, as she had expected, transferring instead to his voice. "You... abandoned the Sanctuary? After all we did, you left?"
Danasi managed the slightest nod, studying her feet intently.
"And you were the Listener?" His tone sounded almost impressed but mired in disappointment. He had spent many hours teaching her of the Night Mother and Sithis, imploring her to commit to the traditions and accept her dark family into her heart. To see her become Listener would surely have been the ultimate prize for his efforts. He paused to contemplate his own words, continuing quietly. "You're sorry you failed me? Sister, you failed the Brotherhood."
It was true. She nodded in solemn assent. "I know... I know now, I want to repay it now, I really do."
Anger began to invade his tone. "Repay? You were the Listener. The Listener, Danasi! And you walked away from that honour, bestowed upon you by the Night Mother herself? Did I teach you no better? Do you have any respect, any reverence for our family?"
Danasi hung her head in shame but did not protest. She deserved it. "I just didn't know how... you always guided me, I needed you, but-"
"Sithis take you! The Brotherhood needed you. You and the Night Mother could have built Cheydinhal anew, but you abandoned it- and when it needed you the most! That is not something you can make up for."
This was also true. But it had not been the Brotherhood she had joined. The Initiates were strangers, Arquen Lucien's killer. Even the Night Mother had known the calamity would happen and allowed it. Danasi had felt betrayed herself, all her true family dead despite all the loyalty she had displayed. "I tried, Lucien, I tried..."
"Perhaps you should have tried harder. The Night Mother does not pick Listeners idly," Lucien interrupted sharply.
Danasi's composure began to crumble under the reality of his displeasure. "Lucien, please, I loved you, I couldn't just turn around and carry on like nothing-"
"Well that is where you went wrong. You should have placed your love in Sithis and your family. Abandoning the Night Mother, abandoning the Brotherhood to drift with no Listener... it is tantamount to betrayal. To think I called you sister... I am ashamed. I ought to take my blade to you like any traitor."
For a moment she thought he might, flinching as he left with a noise of disgust, replaying what were likely his last ever words to her in her head. She sunk to the floor. She had deserved it, she had known it would happen like that, but that didn't mean it hurt any less.
An elf in love with a ghost, hadn't expected that the Listener thought. He re-entered the training room and found the woman a crying heap in the centre of the floor.
She was unresponsive for a time, but eventually she let him help her up and usher her down the hall to her sleeping quarters. "Am I a traitor? What are you going to do with me?" she asked meekly from the corner of her bed.
"You are safe, Nil- Danasi. Believe it or not, I can understand your actions. Love, grief, they can blind all of us to our better judgement. I would not call you a traitor." He remembered the events in his own life that had lead him here. Mistakes? One might call them that in hindsight. But fuelled by love, he would never regret those actions themselves.
"Thank you," the elf's voice, low and hoarse, roused him from his thoughts. "And hatred," she added.
"Hm?" he inquired.
"I had to share a Sanctuary with one of those who killed him. It was near impossible every day not to break a Tenet."
"Then you are a better person than I," the Breton commented. "Has the Night Mother spoken to you?" he asked almost casually as he leant on the table edge across from her.
The elf paused for a moment before speaking. "I have not been close to her, yet."
"I see. Well, get some rest. I will speak with you about this when you are less distressed."
He stood and headed for the door.
"I don't wish to take over or anything, sir," the woman called after him.
"I'm sure. Rest," he called back.
He strode back up to the main level. This Dunmer had climbed rank by rank to Listener. She was incredibly skilled and had learned the traditional ways under Lucien's own rule. He wanted her for his Brotherhood. But right now she was broken and his ghost would leave her that way. This would never do.
Author is not sure she is happy with how this came out but there it is.