A/N: Sincerest apologies for just how long this took to get out. I'm a little ashamed, but after moving twice within the past few months, life has been hectic. I finally have time to myself, so a third chapter will be soon underway.
As far as cities went, Lucien found Leyawiin to be positively dull. Even Bravil had more going for it than the little city – Bravil was at least poor enough to be littered with gangs and Skooma addicts. However, every now and then someone would be arrested for assault or another would have an affair on their husband or wife and a murder would be arranged. Otherwise, the streets were usually left empty and the residents' pockets devoid of anything worth stealing.
On this particular day, Lucien had been requested specifically by the Night Mother to come…and observe. This was typically the way of business – the Listener would be told by the Unholy Matron to send a Speaker somewhere, where the Speaker only had to wait for a murder to be performed. The murderer was always left unaware that their dark sin had been observed by forces unknown to them, and then Lucien would sweep in during the night and wake them from their slumber, towering over them like a dark messenger of death before reciting his catch phrase.
Lucien was not completely alone in the city, however. He had assigned Cheydinhal's resident vampire to a contract within Leyawiin's walls. With any luck, the two might be able to meet up and have a drink. Lucien always did love a good bar fight, and it was so fun to push Vicente's buttons.
Granted, it was probably not best to rouse the sleeping beast within Vicente, but Lucien was well acquainted with his boundaries. It would take a lot to release the full nature of the vampire, and Lucien was sure never to push him to that extreme. He had only seen it released once, many years ago, when Lucien had been serving Vicente as Silencer. Lucien supposed that seeing the monster inside of Vicente shouldn't have been such a surprise, but Vicente had been the one to find and induct him into the Dark Brotherhood. The elder Breton had never been anything but clever and encouraging, praising Lucien in his successes as he rose through the ranks. Seeing Valtieri break had been a life-changing moment for the Imperial, who believed until then that he was indestructible, as silly as it sounded. It was difficult for Lucien to accept that his role model and mentor was not as perfect as he thought he was.
After Vicente stepped down and Lucien took his position as Speaker, he admittedly had distanced himself from the vampire. As Vicente had put it, his 'damn ego' had prevented him from turning to the Breton for guidance. Lucien did regret that the relationship had become strained, but he could not tear down his pride long enough to apologize and mend what had been broken. Instead, Lucien took to teasing and poking at Vicente, hoping that he might recognize Lucien's attempt to reconcile through the cold nature he presented.
Lucien's fingers buzzed with magicka as he held the chameleon spell, allowing him to sneak through the dark alleys completely undetected. He was not certain what he was looking for or who the Night Mother intended for him to recruit, but he could already sense that it was going to be a long night.
Silence ominously hung in the air as Zarissis laid in bed, gazing at the full moon hanging in the sky beyond her window. The day's events repeated over and over in her head, from her engagement to the chance acquaintance with the mysterious man. He was unlike any other she'd ever encountered – he was polite and strong, a light in the darkness when she had no hope. He was a traveler, meaning soon he'd be long gone and the little redhead would never see him again. He had saved her life, breaking a man's neck with his bare hands in one fell swoop. She had only heard stories of men with such strength.
What would it be like to have power like that to decide her own fate? Many years ago, her father used to sneak her with him to go hunting. He'd crouch behind her and whisper instructions as she pulled the string of the bow back, each arrow aimed with purpose at the prey. Her fingers would release and the arrow would bury itself in the breast of a deer. Later, her father's large hand would guide hers as he taught her how to skin an animal, peeling away flesh with each swipe of the blade. These were the times she felt most at peace within herself and became one with her primal instincts.
Her mother eventually found out, tearing through the house while screaming. She found Zarissis's bow and snapped it in two before she tossed it at the feet of the crying child. She never did find the dagger, which Zarissis kept well hidden.
Since then, she had let others make choices for her. She lost her voice and her identity to the desires of her mother, and while she loved the woman, a desire for freedom had been gnawing at her soul for longer than she could remember.
Zarissis threw the blankets to the floor and hopped out of bed. It had been so long since she felt a fire burning in her heart, and she remembered the days when not a single person could have held her down. Her mind was made – she would not marry Tristeran.
Marching to the chest at the foot of her bed, Zarissis grabbed a heavy dark green travelling dress and her cloak. Her fingers deftly tied the laces to the dress before tossing the brown cloak over her shoulders. Reaching toward the bottom of the chest, Zarissis felt around under her fingers grasped at the rough fabric of a bag and the worn hilt of the dagger from long ago.
The dagger had been stored in its scabbard, and since then rust had eaten at the blade. Still, if Zarissis desired freedom, she needed to go now, and even children knew the roads were littered with bandits. She tucked the dagger into the band of her dress and threw a pair of clothes into the bag.
Treading to the side, she bent down and reached a hand into the dust, pulling an old tome from under her bed. With a huff of breath, she blew the grime off of the cover, revealing the text below: Immortal Blood.
It was her favourite book. When her mom discovered it, she merely huffed and sighed. "Zarissis," she had said, "Everyone knows vampires are just a myth meant to scare children. You're wasting your time reading that rubbish." Zarissis did not listen, and stashed the book away under her bed, only pulling it out in the middle of the night with a small candle lit to reread the book until its pages were worn and thin and the spine had cracked.
The idea of a person having immortality and hunting in the dead of night excited her. How did such a phenomenon happen, if vampires did exist? Did they still eat human food and look like humans? Maybe Zaris had met a vampire and didn't know it. Either way, she used to entertain the idea of becoming an adventurer and learning the world's secrets for herself, and now it seemed her wildest dreams may just come true.
Zarissis stuffed the book into her bag and tossed the pack over her shoulders before slipping on her shoes. As a last minute idea, Zarissis snatched her coin purse from a table and tucked it into her bag. Quietly, she tip-toed out of her room, mindful of her parents' snoring in the bedroom over. She would miss them both, especially her loving father, but this was something she had to do – there was no other choice. And marrying Tristeran isn't a choice, she added. She would steal away in the night like a thief, all for the pursuit of freedom. If men fought and died in battles for liberty, then surely her sacrifice was minor in the large scheme of life.
She unlatched the door and quietly stepped out, the door squeaking slightly as she closed it behind her.
Zarissis had forgotten how dark the nights were. Only the soft glow of the moon and the occasional street lantern chased away the shadows. She was usually afraid of the dark, but now was not a time for fear. With a deep breath and her cloak clenched tightly around her tiny figure, the redhead stormed into the dark and through Leyawiin's streets.
Once she was through the gates, she honestly didn't know where she'd go. The streets would certainly be littered with bandits and a little girl wandering in the night was an easy target. Zarissis could only hope that Old Lady Luck would smile upon her and she could venture without harm.
Guards gave her odd looks but didn't say anything as the cloaked redhead swiftly trotted down the road. She wondered if the mysterious stranger who saved her was still around. Perhaps he knew where she could travel safely, or maybe even provide assistance by escorting her to an inn.
It was a pointless wish. She quickly realized that she was on her own as the gate began to fade out of the shadows, finally visible through the darkness. Zarissis's heart skipped and she was certain that she had made her escape until a rough hand seized her arm and pulled her into an alleyway.
Zarissis would have screamed but her terror clouded out any other senses. Another hand tore her cloak from her head and she was turned to face a drunk, unwelcome face.
"Zari', where ya goin'?" Tristeran sputtered through his drunkenness. Despite being intoxicated, Zarissis found herself unable to tear his hands away. He was surprisingly strong, keeping her in place with a brute strength that Zarissis couldn't fathom anyone having.
"Please let me go!" Tears pricked the corners of her eyes as she begged. So close, so close, only to be foiled by the very person she had grown to loathe. Bile rose in her throat as pure hatred burned within her.
"Are you tryin' to run away? Yo're supposed to be my wife!" He pulled Zarissis to his chest, accidentally crushing her ribs until she gasped in pain. One hand gripped her by the hair and roughly pulled her face up to his before he mashed lips against her, locking the unwilling girl into a kiss.
Zarissis attempted to push the larger man away, but her attempts were feeble. At last he released her, only to wrap an arm around her waist.
"Yo're comin' with me," he spluttered as he clumsily dragged the girl, "I'ma take you home, then yo'll never leave me!"
She beat her fists against his arms and chest, but the man only pressed on, ignoring each of her tiny hits. A deep animalistic growl escaped her throat as Tristeran tightened his arm on her waist. She would not lose everything to him, to this creature.
The pressure of his grip pressed something hard into her ribs, something that was tucked and hidden underneath the band of her dress, slipped there right before she left. A sinister and wicked thought entered her mind, one that she found she could not shake. The thought became an action as Zarissis squeezed her hand underneath Tristeran's arm and beneath the dress band, her fingers touching the warm leather hilt of the dagger.
In one swift action, she extracted the blade and swung her arm around, burying warm steel into the body of the man she was sworn to.
He released her as pain overwhelmed him, forcing him to his knees in the dark alley. Zarissis stumbled before regaining her balance, and slowly stepped over until she hovered over the dying man. With a gentle kick, she pushed him onto his back and pulled the dagger from his chest.
Tristeran stared at her with horrorstruck eyes, gurgling on his own blood as it flooded his mouth. The life drained from his eyes, leaving a glassy gaze and motionless figure in its wake.
Zarissis watched in numb apathy, the emotion draining from her body as blood dripped down the blade of the dagger and onto her pale fingers. An accident; she didn't know what pushed her to stab him, or what force even made her draw her weapon in the first place. All she could recall was blind rage and that same, familiar feeling of being a rat within a cage.
Realization finally dawned on her and panic overwhelmed the girl. She threw quick glances down both ends of the alley to make sure her act hadn't been watched. No guards in sight, but Zarissis couldn't fight the feeling that there was a witness. The hair on the back of her neck pricked and a desperate nervousness tore at her being. She had to get out of there.
Wiping the blade and her hand on Tristeran's tunic, Zarissis sheathed the dagger in her dress band and pulled her hood up, clenching her cloak as she ran down the alley. The gate, she had to reach the gate. Someone would find her – if they found her…
No, she told herself as she ran, I can do this. All I need to do is pass the gate. Pass the gate and rush into the darkness. The shadows would swallow up evidence of her presence and she would finally get the freedom she'd killed for.
Her heart pounded as she dove into the light of a streetlamp, the soft glow illuminating the forms of two guards and the ominous gate. Zarissis slowed her pace and tried to gain some composition, although her heart's erratic beating would not slow.
The gazes of the guards centered on her as she approached.
"Hello there! What is a young person like yourself doing out at night?" The guard narrowed his gaze at her cloaked figure, but did not question her apparel. Zarissis was relieved they did not ask her to remove her hood; the less people saw her identity, the better.
"I am a traveler on business. I need to leave the city to get to my destination by daybreak." Her mind automatically retreated to the mysterious hero she'd met earlier in the evening, and she found herself reciting his reason for being in the city. Certainly he'd entered the city at night, given that he had been wandering the streets and not within an inn. Surely if they'd let a cloaked stranger enter, they'd allow her to leave?
Zarissis's suspicions proved correct. The guard merely nodded before shaking his head. "Yeah, go ahead. So many of you guys here tonight, all wearing cloaks. Think I've seen three now." The guards pulled open the gate, revealing the way.
With a silent sigh of relief, Zarissis stepped through the threshold of the city and into the shadows.
Lucien watched the girl with a smug smile on his face. Another child had entered the cold darkness of the Night Mother's embrace. It wouldn't be too long before the girl murdered again, this time for the glory of Sithis.
Not yet, Lucien reminded himself silently. But soon. The minute the little murderess laid her head down to sleep, Lucien would loom over her figure. He always loved that moment when he could observe a future Brother or Sister, faces calm and composed in their dreamless sleep. Lucien liked to imagine their faces just like that, but locked in emotionless apathy and blood splattered as they tore flesh and broke bone, leaving pain and terror in their wakes. The Speaker was determined to turn each and every one of them into an assassin to be reckoned with. They were his works of art, and he the painter. When he was done, they would be masterpieces of destruction.
This girl would soon join their ranks, Lucien was sure of it. He kept his eyes locked on her as he hid underneath a chameleon spell in the shadows. From his position, he could see her face perfectly, the glow of the moonlight slipping beneath her hood and illuminating her round cheeks and delicate cheekbones.
So beautiful, so emotionless. She was stunned by her work, likely an accident done within the heat of the moment, but it was a murder nonetheless. The Night Mother had called his attention to it and he was glad to watch.
And the show was much more entertaining once Lucien realized that this girl was killing her fiancé. Lucien wasn't really the romantic type, but he could appreciate the passion behind murdering a loved one; although this girl didn't really seem to love him all too much, if she was running away. Lucien felt that she looked far too young to be engaged to be married; her gentle features and small frame suggested that she was merely a child, at least when compared to himself and certain other members of the Cheydinhal Sanctuary.
The Speaker followed behind her, shadowing her every movement as she progressed into the shadows.
Zarissis was surprised to see that she made it along the road unscathed. Old Lady Luck had smiled upon her and preserved her from any cruel bandits or hungry wolves. By the time she reached the village, the sky was beginning to turn orange with the break of dawn.
The town of Border Watch was inhabited by Khajiit, and many were just beginning to rise and begin their morning routines. Zarissis pulled her hood down, revealing her braided flaming orange hair, and wandered into the village.
Some of the Khajiit who were beginning to head outside to tend to gardens and animals gave her polite, curt nods. Zarissis smiled back before making her way toward the Border Watch Inn.
Inside the rickety inn, a Khajiit behind the counter grinned ecstatically, revealing pointy teeth. "Hello, hello! May I get you a room, or something to eat perhaps? We have the finest selection of cheeses that cannot be found anywhere else!"
"A room and some bread would be fine." After a moment of staring at the excited women, Zarissis sighed. "And I suppose I'll take some cheese with that too."
"Oh perrrrfect! I am S'thasa, pleased to meet your acquaintance." A deep rumbling purr began in her throat. "The room is ten septims, and bread and cheese will be five."
Zarissis reached into her bag and pulled out the small coinpurse. She picked out the fifteen septims and placed them on the counter, leaving a hefty dent in her pocket. She didn't know how far she could make the money stretch; in her passion to leave, she didn't plan well enough ahead.
Too late to go back now, Zarissis thought to herself as S'thasa lead her to her room. I've killed a man and my parents will likely know it was me. If I go back now, my mother will turn me in. I'll spend the rest of my life in the Imperial Prison.
Zarissis wasn't risking that. She took the bread and slice of cheese from S'thasa and closed the bedroom door, sitting on the edge of the bed. She tore off piece after piece of bread and ate it with cheese, savoring every bite. With as little money as she had, food would likely become scarce.
Maybe I'll die in the wilderness as a punishment for murder.
Finishing her meal, Zarissis kicked off her shoes and unclipped her travelling cloak, throwing it over the foot of the bed. Her fingers slowly pulled the knots out of the laces on her dress before pulling it over her head.
With a low groan, Zarissis realized that she left her bedclothes at home. Oh well, she supposed she could sleep in her smallclothes, but it'd feel so unusual after many years of having a nightgown. Yawning, Zarissis unbraided her hair, orange locks falling over her shoulders in loose waves. She peeled back the thin blankets and furs of the bed and huddled inside, cocooning herself in the bed.
Only a few short minutes later, Zarissis's eyes drifted closed, and she slipped into a deep sleep.
Zarissis's blood turned to ice as she was torn from a deep sleep, heart pounding wildly against her chest. Her eyes flew open and she clutched the sheets to her chest as she saw a cloaked stranger hovering above her bed, a magelight beside him. The light shined on his face, revealing a strong jaw and handsome features…and the coldest, deepest shade of brown eyes Zarissis had ever seen.
"You sleep rather soundly…for a murderer." The man's deep voice reverberated in the room, bringing goose bumps to Zarissis's arms. "That's good, you'll need a clear conscious for what I'm about to propose."
"Get out, or I'll– I'll– " Her voice tapered off as she glanced over to the table where she had thrown her bag, dagger still inside, out of arm's reach. Damn her forgetfulness; she should have put it under her pillow!
"Or you'll stab me, just like you did to that poor pathetic mess of a boy?" The cloaked stranger laughed mercilessly, a sound that chilled Zarissis's bones. "Your work, your deathcraft, pleases the Night Mother, which is why I have come to you. I am Lucien Lachance, a Speaker for the Dark Brotherhood. And you, you are a killer. A taker of life. A harvester of souls. You have taken a life without pity or remorse, and the Night Mother is most pleased. And so here I am, bearing an offering. An opportunity… to join our rather unique family."
The Dark Brotherhood…? Zarissis had heard stories of the religious organization dedicated to their Lord of Chaos, Sithis, but said stories were always told to children to frighten them. Once or twice Zarissis had caught whispers within Leyawiin of murders, said to be deeds of the Brotherhood. Everything Zarissis had ever learned suggested that the Dark Brotherhood was pure evil, but here was a Speaker for the Brotherhood, offering her a chance to join their family?
He was right, though. She hadn't felt remorse when she saw Tristeran's body lying lifeless on the ground at her own hands. She felt nothing.
Confusion raged within Zarissis's mind as she fought to grasp some form of response. Freedom was what she wanted, and she was currently low on money. On her own, she wouldn't last a week in the wilds. It was a long way to any major city, and her little rusty iron dagger wasn't enough to keep her alive.
Besides, didn't she often daydream about stories of darkness and bloodshed? Her mind returned to the book about the Arena and the intricate picture of the Bloodworks. She had obsessed over the idea of fighting in the Arena for many months, imagining herself coated in the blood of the men she had killed. Was being an assassin really that different? As a sport, it was socially acceptable, but it still involved taking lives.
With a deep sigh, Zarissis resigned her fate. If she wanted to live, this was probably the best offer she'd get. "Fine. I'm listening."
"Then heed my words, for I will not repeat them. On the Green Road to the North of Bravil lies the Inn of Ill Omens. There you will find a man named Rufio. Kill him, and your initiation into the Dark Brotherhood will be complete. Do this, and the next time you sleep in a location I deem secure, I will reveal myself once more, bearing the love of your new family."
Zarissis frowned. Bravil was the city closest to Leyawiin, and she supposed it wasn't too far away, but it still seemed like quite the walk. Although she had seen a horse tied to a fence at the edge of the village. Zarissis wasn't a thief, but walking was slow, and a girl alone on the road is an easy target. Speed would be her friend.
Lucien Lachance reached into his coat and pulled out a sinister dagger. "Please accept this token from the Dark Brotherhood. It is a virgin blade, and thirsts for blood. May it serve your endeavors well."
Zarissis stretched out a hand and removed the blade from his open palms. Gripping the intricately engraved hilt, she drew the blade. The dagger slipped from its sheath silently, metal glinting dangerously in the magelight. Zarissis didn't dare press a finger to the blade; she could see its sharpness very clearly. This was a weapon made to tear skin and flesh like paper.
"Now I bid you farewell." Lucien's voice pulled her gaze away from the blade. "I hope we'll meet again very soon."
His form slowly faded out of focus until Zarissis was left in the room alone. An invisibility spell of some sort, she presumed, as her door silently opened and closed again.
From what she had seen of his face, he'd been quite handsome. Probably used his good looks to seduce women into joining his organization. He was the kind of man her mom would have fawned over…well, everything except the cold-blooded killer part.
A sudden shock of realization hit Zarissis and her cheeks turned pink as she realized that he had been in her room, standing over her bed, and she hadn't been wearing a nightgown, only her bra band and smallclothes.
Damn him! She was so caught up in the mystery of it all that she had forgotten the decency to cover up. The bastard probably relished every moment that he got to sneak into a girl's room and wake them from a deep sleep. Creep…
Regardless, Zarissis felt obliged to at least go to the Inn of Ill Omens. She would have several days to contemplate whether or not she'd actually kill this Rufio. Still, Zarissis wanted freedom and there was no going back now, and she knew that her days would be numbered by herself. The promise of a new family in an organization of killers wasn't really the best option, but it was a better alternative to death.
And maybe I'll learn something, like how to protect myself. That'd be useful. They can't be all bad, right?
Zarissis closed her eyes, slipping into a deep sleep for a few more hours before she'd waken at dusk to begin her journey.