Skyrim Page 3 - "Either you're naked, or I'm drunk. Maybe both."

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Beyond the Ice and the Fire (Spectral Assassin/F!Dunmer) - 4/?

[(Anonymous)]

The Dawnstar Sanctuary had seemed uncomfortably large at first, as if it was some old tomb whose tunnels just kept going Sithis only knew how deep – a place to weather in for a day or two at most, always watching one’s back, before moving on to somewhere more secure. However, with the new Murderers they were recruiting to their ranks, she was sure that the last remaining shard of the Dark Brotherhood would grow to fill it, and no longer rattle around inside like the last half-handful of coins in a jar meant to hold a fortune. Nazir had done well while she had been away to complete the contract on the Emperor and secure renovations for the Sanctuary.

Riva felt the satisfaction of a responsibility well-acquitted, but it was a remote thing, a candle flame whose light left many dank corners of her mind untouched. The corners were filled with ashes and the charred bones of her first brethren that waited to finally be swept away, but she could not bring herself to touch them, to remember. She had too much work to do and too much respect (and fear) to inspire in the new recruits to allow the possibility of a breakdown.

The new blood came to know her for her silence, save when she had to train them or relay orders. When the Brotherhood was once again large enough to produce five assassins worthy of the title Speaker, she would need only interact with them. For now, Nazir was Speaker in all but name, but there was too much work that needed a seasoned touch for her to pass all her orders through him – with the civil war still raging and a renewed punctuality in responding to those who performed the Black Sacrament, the pace of incoming new contracts was as punishing as it was lucrative.

And so she trained, and killed, and Listened, and tried to forget.

Lucien had reappeared as the moon reached its zenith the second night after the Sanctuary had burned. Riva had been sitting alone with her back to the fire, sleepless, when his form coalesced in its cold luminescence against the impenetrable black of the forest that surrounded them.

I returned as soon as I was able, he had said.

I know. I am glad to see you.

She had not told him of the irrational relief that accompanied his arrival, how she had feared that somehow he would be permanently destroyed along with her Family and her home… but she suspected he knew, all the same.

You are not alone, dear Sister.

Since then, he had remained at her side, fading from view as it was expedient, but always present. He made no remark of the sleeping draught she took every night, perhaps knowing what she fled from. He had told her, once, of the Purification of Cheydinhal Sanctuary and how it had haunted him, even though he himself had not wielded the blade.

How did you live with it? she had asked.

He had laughed darkly and shaken his head. I didn’t – at least not very long.

Remembering that conversation was somewhat less than encouraging.