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Lucien was never impressed easily, and it was a quality that he was very proud of. He still remembered how he used to rate a Brother or Sister's kill while he was Speaker of the Cheydinhal Sanctuary, and how he never gave them extravagant praise nor did he berate them for simple mistakes. He was a firm but fair Speaker in his view, and he liked to think he was a good judge of character.
But the Dragonborn Morgan Aurelius was an enigma to him.
He did not doubt her ability to kill. He had been watching her ever since the Unholy Matron had shown her to him as the next Listener. He had seen how she had taken the life of a Thalmor soldier purely out of fear…and her subsequent pleasure at seeing the Altmer's demise at her own hands after being subjugated under their rule for so long.
He had watched with mild interest as she travelled the harsh wilderness of Skyrim, trying to live up to the responsibility of being the last Dragonborn while also attempting to balance a moral high ground…something that she was doomed to fail in the end. He would never say she was unskilled…in fact, when he watched her fight, he recognised many of her fighting styles, particularly with the blade.
Styles of the Shadowscales, passed down through the generations. Ocheeva and Teinaava were the last ones I knew of, until Veezara arrived to the Void…and he recognised the same fighting styles with the Dragonborn's mother.
It must have been passed on through the Listener and her first child. She must have taught the babe how to fight at an early age, just like the Shadowscales did. And the cycle continued throughout the centuries, the Aurelius lineage growing stronger with each generation, each of them trained in the blade, magical arts and assassination styles.
And yet none of them realised this. They simply passed on the arts to their children as a form of self defence, a way to survive.
But it has not stopped them from being what they truly were.
He had an inkling that Lilith Aurelius suspected the truth, the Night Mother had explained it so to him. She had killed a man in the Imperial City after he made unwanted advances, and had fled to Bruma to start a new life away from the oppressive Thalmor rule, meeting another man whilst there….and had finally given birth to the person that would bring back the Dark Brotherhood to it's full strength.
Lucien didn't think she knew why she was so gifted in the art of killing, but she wasn't stupid. She knew on some level that she was different, even before she became one of the night-walkers. Morgan had confidence in her abilities but she also never became overconfident either. She never rushed into anything without thinking about it beforehand.
She was like Her when she killed the corrupt guards and the Thane of Solitude, Erikur. No mistakes, no mercy.
She walked and talked like her. Lucinda had a temper like Morgan, although Morgan had a much shorter fuse and was possibly more destructive when she lost control. Lucinda was quieter and less flirty with others, and also had a grasp of enchanting that he had never seen since her death. Morgan now wore her armour and the ring she had made for him personally….and when he noticed Morgan looking at the ring and going quiet, he knew that she was thinking of the last Listener.
He knew it was not the time to tell her, but part of him wished to tell her that very instant about her lineage. But at the same time, he knew not to interfere with the Dread Lord's plan….He would make certain that Morgan would find out, but it would be done at the correct time and place.
Lucien smiled a little as Morgan and the Daughter of Coldharbour exchanged a few words and a gentle kiss before looking around at the rest of the Dark brotherhood members, minus the Keeper and Nazir. He was pleased with the way she was embracing her new role in her life, and was also very eager to see just what she was truly capable of….the Night Mother had told him of the slaughter in Markarth and yet Lucien still could not believe that the small Breton vampire and her taller lover managed to kill hundreds of soulless people without suffering fatal wounds.
They may have had no souls, but numbers normally count in a fight.
But then he recalled that Morgan had transformed into her Vampire Lord form, something he had not yet had the pleasure of witnessing, and had turned into something….unique. From what he was told, she had a form that combined the best of both the Volkihar blood line and her dragon soul, with less of the weaknesses. She needed less blood than most vampires, and was also more resistant to the sun and fire than what was normal.
But her companion has much more experience in the art of killing.
Lucien knew one thing about the Volkihar blood line, and it was a simple fact. The previous ruler of the Court, Lord Harkon, used fear to force his opposition into fearing him and becoming obedient to his command. But the fact was that Serana and her deceased mother were pure-blood vampires, the Daughter of Coldharbour. From what the Unholy matron had told him, the Daughters were more powerful creations of Molag Bal, despite the degrading ritual they partook before becoming a vampire, and it was this that had always made Harkon very uneasy about the pair of them.
And when Serana was found to have turned a Dragonborn with her own blood, Harkon must have feared the three women even more so.
Harkon and Valerica were gone, but their daughter remained. And Serana was the one that kept Morgan from losing her humanity and allowing her dragon-like nature from taking its course.
But there have been moments where even Serana's influence have not been enough.
Lucien knew this was true also. He wondered if Morgan herself knew that she had changed a little, personality wise. She still joked, flirted and acted with reason, but sometimes, he could see past all that and note that a slumbering dragon was beginning to wake up.
Maybe nothing will happen…or maybe, she may kill in a way that even I could not think of.
Lucien LaChance smiled again before schooling his face into a neutral expression, eager for the meeting to begin. He was pleased of the choice of Listener, and he was hopeful that she would prove to be just as ambitious and smart as the last one, all those years ago.
Morgan had noticed Lucien watching her a few times as the assassins all converged in the large trench that led to the sea. The place was ideal because no-one would ever go down into the crevasse due to the frost trolls and sabre cats that dwelled there.
Used to dwell here, she mentally corrected herself. They had slain the animals and dumped their corpses into the sea, giving the slaughterfish a hefty meal. Now they were sitting down on fur rugs brought from the Sanctuary with more fur linings covering their bodies to ward against the harsh wind that blew down the gorge.
"Yol."
A small blast of flame burst from her mouth and the medium sized fire pit was lit, lighting them up nicely yet not too bright to be seen from anyone passing by. She shrugged at Astrid, who had watched her light the wood with her thu'um.
"Easier than using sticks and flint."
"Indeed…although a spell may have done."
Morgan beamed at her, conceding the point.
"Show off," Serana purred, kissing her gently on the lips.
Morgan sighed as she pressed herself closer to the other vampire, wrapping her arms round her waist.
"Coming from a woman who could raise a mammoth back from the dead," she retorted.
Serana smirked.
"Years of practice."
"Four thousand of them roughly."
Morgan squirmed as Serana dug her fingers into her ribs and smiled at her.
"With age comes wisdom…as well as a few sex tips lost to the ages…."
Morgan sighed again when Serana lightly removed herself from her grasp and smiled as the vampire sat down on a large fur rug, accepting a bottle of fresh blood from Babette, who sat next to her. She looked around and noted that the assassins were all sat down and looking at her, waiting to begin. She nodded to Lucien, who gave her an appreciative nod in return before taking a moment to compose herself.
"Thank you everyone, it means so much to me that someone wishes to help me in a….selfish cause such as this," she began, trying to keep the vision of her mother being hung out of her mind. "I know that the Dark Brotherhood normally wouldn't perform a rescue attempt…Lucien explained to me that in the past, assassins caught and left in jail wouldn't be saved by their Brothers and Sisters, due to the chance of them being found out and their Sanctuaries being destroyed."
Serana placed a comforting hand on her shin and Morgan smiled a little.
"But thankfully, the Night Mother gave me her permission to do just that. I know that as Listener, I have an awful lot to learn, so I am going to need all of you to assist me in becoming what I am meant to be…and in return, I will lead this organisation back to the feared and respected group that it used to be."
There was a small roar of approval and Morgan nodded to them before looking at one large space behind her.
"DUUR…NEH VIIR!"
There was a huge purple vortex of smoke and magical light, and after a few seconds, a large green dragon emerged, slimy tendrils of mucus and rotting flesh dripping from it's form.
"Drem Yol Lok, Qahnarrin."
"Drem Yol Lok, Durnehviir," Morgan replied, placing a hand on his snout gently. "Thank you for coming."
"The Ideal Masters have not bothered me since their defeat," the dragon boasted. "They fear you thuri."
Morgan grimaced a little. From what Odahviing had once told her shortly after Alduin's defeat by her hands, the mantle of the Overlord had been passed onto her. Many dovah would seek her out as a challenge, others may seek her for guidance in this changed land….she only knew that her path as Dovahkiin was nowhere near completed.
"Fuck them," she grinned.
Durnehviir snorted with amusement, a plume of purple smoke blasting out of his nostrils and he settled down on a corner of the empty space, his gaze travelling across the members of the Dark Brotherhood in turn and then meeting Morgan's gaze.
"Where is the young one?"
"I thought you would never ask. OD…AH..VIING!"
A few moments later, the huge red dragon swooped into the crevasse and landed a few feet from Morgan.
"Drem Yol Lok, Dovahkiin . It is good to hear your thu'um once more."
"Thank you for coming Odahviing, I look forward to seeing your taste for battle once more."
The two dragons simply nodded to each other, but neither one spoke. Morgan knew that they would always remain competitive with each other and saw no harm in them staring each other out.
"Now we are all here, we can begin," she said, instantly gaining everyone's attention.
She began to pace, looking briefly at Serana, who gave her a nod, before looking around at them all.
"I aim to free my mother from Windhelm. She has been there far too long and Sithis only knows what they did to her. We know that the city is heavily fortified, with large walls and few places to easily gain access. But there are ways to get inside without being spotted."
Morgan knelt down and unrolled a large sheaf of parchment, revealing a map of Windhelm and the outlying area. She pointed at the docks, where the Argonians worked tirelessly with hardly any food or coin, her frown deepening at the thought of the oppressed people in the city.
"The docks are lightly guarded, even during a moment of martial law. It is easy to get to the docks by swimming underwater, but the problem is what happens when you go up the steps. It leads to a large gate that can be fortified and locked within seconds of an attack."
"A secondary option," Lucien added.
Morgan nodded.
"The best option would be to scale the walls from the eastern side. There is nothing there but snow and rocks, and because the buildings are so close to the wall from within the walls themselves, it would be easy to gain access with no-one spotting us. The next step would be to gain access to the Palace of the Kings…"
"The roof."
Morgan smiled in thanks to Lucien, who simply tilted his head to her in response.
"Exactly. It would be easy to climb the walls and getting inside from the upstairs would be the best way to enter the building. But the last problem would be the people inside. There is a court mage who is adept at spell casting, as well as a multitude of Stormcloak soldiers…not to mention the pair of skeever droppings that is Ulfric and Galmar. So we need a way to keep the majority of the soldiers occupied."
She smiled wickedly.
"That's where you two come in," she added, nodding at the two dragons. "There is a large encampment of Stormcloaks on each of the hills nearby. Each of you attack one, or attack the same, it matters little. If you are spotted, they will summon every body they can afford to try and fend you off. Keep out of arrow range as much as possible, it's a fucking pain ripping the bloody arrowheads out of your scaly arses."
Odahviing snorted and Durnehviir chuckled before they both dipped their heads.
"It shall be done, Dovahkiin," Odahviing rumbled.
Morgan smiled.
"I would be willing to bet that Ulfric and Galmar will also try and take you on for themselves….from far away of course. But that means the Palace will be mostly unguarded with only a few soldiers remaining. The court wizard may also be there, so caution is still required."
"Where is she held?" Lucien asked.
"In the dungeons on the eastern side of the building," Morgan replied. "I have been there before, back when I was naive enough to think that Ulfric was a man of honour and not s steaming pile of dragon shit."
There were a few chuckles from the group and Morgan giggled before taking a long pause.
"I will be going to free my mother, I need one other person to join me."
"Gabriella would be best," Serana pointed out with a smile. "She knows how to keep any guards….busy…in case they were to find you."
"Leaving you free to stun the shit out of Ulfric and his army with your beauty…and your necromancy skills of course," Morgan added, winking at her.
Serana smiled and nodded.
"Babette and Brelyna, you are to stay near the Palace, taking care of any threats nearby…Stormcloak or otherwise."
The two vampires nodded.
"Astrid, you and Scar here can do a little sabotage in the Palace…with poisons and the kitchens perhaps? Maybe we can take care of that bastard without cutting his throat out, but it's a long shot. Of course, you will have to keep Scar from eating any of the food…let her eat Stormcloaks instead, she likes them better."
Scar howled and everyone laughed. Astrid ran her hand along the ice wolf's muscled back gently and Scar nuzzled her head into the Nord's shoulder.
"You won't have any problem with each other," Morgan laughed.
"Nazir, keep an eye on Cicero and maybe make some light food for our return…I have a feeling my mother will be…"
"I will, Listener. You just get her out of there and get back safely…and slit some throats for me while you are at it."
"I will, "Morgan said softly, glad for his support.
"Lucien, I need your skills anywhere you deem appropriate. Keep the guards moving all the time, keep them off guard and disorganised. I will summon you back when we are in the clear."
"As you command, Listener."
Morgan looked at the group assembled before them and nodded once.
"Start sharpening your blades everyone, it's time to kill some people."
The resounding cheer made her more confident.
I'm coming, Mother…..and anyone who tries to stop me will have to be cleaned up with a mop and a bucket of water.
"Are you alright?"
Morgan smiled as Serana's arms wrapped around her waist, and sighed when her vampire lover pressed her body against her back gently.
"I am. I just need a clear head for when we leave, many things could go wrong."
"They won't. You know how I know?"
"Do tell," Morgan smirked as Serana's hands gently rubbed on her stomach and hip area.
"Because zu'u Dovahkiin."
Morgan allowed herself to sigh heavily as Serana kissed the nape of her neck, running her tongue expertly across her skin. She giggled when the vampire ran her fingers along her hips again.
"You carry on and we won't be ready."
Serana laughed softly.
"Just a taster of what you can expect when we get back."
"I look forward to it," Morgan replied.
Serana gave her a light kiss on the side off her face before leaving the training room. Morgan smiled but it faded after a few seconds, to be replaced by a rage that she had never felt before.
If they did something truly terrible to her….or worse….no-one will be left alive in that place.
She threw a barrage of ice spikes at a dummy, imagining each one to be wearing Stormcloak armour, not seeing the three people watching her from the entrance of the room…
"By Sithis, she is pissed," Astrid breathed out slowly.
Nazir nodded.
"Remind me not to piss off the Listener," he added.
Lucien remained silent, but he could feel the grin forming on his spectral face.
A true daughter of Sithis indeed.
"We will have to make some more training dummies," Nazir quipped.
Astrid nodded as Morgan began working with her twin glass daggers, each strike measured and controlled. She had never seen her fight before, and she could see why so many people of Skyrim believed her to be the ultimate warrior, she seemed unstoppable.
As if reading her thoughts, Lucien spoke for the first time since returning to the Sanctuary.
"Nothing is invincible, Sister. But she does have impressive form."
Astrid nodded, just as Morgan crossed her blades across the dummy's neck and sliced the head clean off before lashing out with a vicious side kick that snapped the support beam in half, the dummy crumpling to the floor.
"YOL…TORR…SHUL!"
The three watchers looked on as the dummy was incinerated by a white hot blast of flame, the Dragonborn standing in the middle of the raging fire, untouched by the burst of power she had unleashed.
"Fuck me…" Nazir muttered. He had heard so much of her power as a Dragonborn, but he hadn't expected just how she could stand there and glare at the burning surroundings, her face twisted with a fury he had never seen.
Astrid felt her skin go cold, and she knew it wasn't because of the draught from the caves deeper within the Sanctuary.
Lucien smirked.
Excellent, a Listener has come at last. All hail the Listener.