Send Your Child Unto Me, Part Five: The Beginning
Title: Send Your Child Unto Me
Rating: T
Characters: Lucien LaChance, Nelkir
Genre: Supernatural, Drama
Word Count: 6580
Summary: Fifteen years after the civil war, the Dark Brotherhood has been completely erradicated in Skyrim. Yet the will of the Night Mother lives in on. Lucien LaChance is given new life and purpose: the find this new Listener and to return the Dark Brotherhood to its terrifying glory.
Warnings: Depictions of violence, character death, spoilers for the Dark Brotherhood questline
Art by evian_fork
The Beginning
Nelkir and the stranger fled down the passage way, both panting with exertion, their clothes bathed in crimson blood. The stench of acrid sweat rose from them both, and they rode on terrified screams in their ears.
No one remained alive in Dragonsreach.
They had escaped down a hidden passage in the larder, a secret door Nelkir had known about. The door was hidden in the stone of the larder wall, but it gave away easily at the stranger's touch. As they passed through, it closed on its own, and the stranger glanced over his shoulder to see a the black skull staring back at him.
“'The night, my brother',” he whispered as they slowed their pace.
“What was that?” Nelkir asked between panting breaths.
“It's not important now,” the stranger replied.
The feeling of this place brought that nostalgic feeling back to the stranger, and he knew they stood in unholy territory, blessed by the dark love of the Night Mother.
“How do you feel?” the stranger asked Nelkir.
“I-I feel so...alive,” he breathed. “So alive. More alive than ever before in my life.”
“Good.”
“All those people. Dead. It's exhilarating.” He almost chuckled. “I want more.”
“There will be so much more to come,” the stranger said calmly, now taking the lead to guide the younger down the dark tunnel.
The tunnel split into three paths: one opened into a large cavernous room; another twisted downward into the bowels of the earth; and the last snaked around to the left. The stranger took this last tunnel, Nelkir close behind him, and they followed the winding path to the end, where they found themselves in a small tomb.
The room, pitched in black, held two objects: a small stone offering table long devoid of any offerings and a single, large coffin, still sealed. It was doubtful Nelkir could see these things, but the stranger saw them plain as day.
“Where are we?” Nelkir asked, his voice hushed now. No doubt he felt that they stood in a special place.
“Your home,” the stranger replied. “Should you choose to accept it.”
The stranger approached the coffin, sliding a white hand over its curved lid. Even to his cold, unliving skin, the coffin felt frigid, and a trail of goosebumps prickled its way up his arm.
“We come to you, Night Mother,” the stranger whispered, and he immediately felt a change in atmosphere.
A draft drew by, a chilling wind that sent Nelkir shivering. Ethereal light and smoke slowly formed around the room, casting a deep blue glow, lighting the faces of the two men in the room. Nelkir stared at the formless spirit amongst them, his jaw hung in awe.
And then She spoke: “My children. You have found me at last.”
“Mother!” Nelkir cried, throwing himself to his knees. A sob wracked his body. “Oh Mother, I had feared you had forgotten me!”
“Hush, calm yourself, child,” She said sternly. “And you.” She spoke to the stranger, and he lifted his chin in response. “You have done well, for a corpse.”
“The highest honor,” he said. “I thank you, Mother.”
She turned her unholy attention, who had managed to pulled himself to his feet. She spoke to him in words the stranger could not hear, but he could see the understanding in the boy's haunted eyes.
She had chosen Her Listener.
Then She faded back into the Void, leaving the tomb to fall back into darkness. Nelkir's heavy breathing was the only sound for several minutes.
“What must we do now?” he asked breathlessly.
“Build,” the stranger said. “Build and spread terror through Skyrim, through Tamriel, until once again our name strikes fear into the hearts of everyone who hears our name.”
“Our name?”
“The Dark Brotherhood.”
Nelkir nodded.
“Take some time, child,” the stranger said. “You look to need it. Be mindful, however, as we have much work ahead of us.”
“Yes, sir,” the boy responded dazedly.
“It is I who should call you sir, Listener.”
Nelkir opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again and walked out of the tomb.
The stranger turned to follow, but an inky blackness darker than the pitch surrounding it caught his eye. It poked out from under the offering table, calling to him. He reached down and grasped the cloth, as thin and cold as if it were made from the Void itself.
Unfolding it, he discovered it to be a robe and hood. Vile energy spilled off of it, comforting his soul. He slipped it over his clothing, pulled the hood over his head.
And he smiled.
Rating: T
Characters: Lucien LaChance, Nelkir
Genre: Supernatural, Drama
Word Count: 6580
Summary: Fifteen years after the civil war, the Dark Brotherhood has been completely erradicated in Skyrim. Yet the will of the Night Mother lives in on. Lucien LaChance is given new life and purpose: the find this new Listener and to return the Dark Brotherhood to its terrifying glory.
Warnings: Depictions of violence, character death, spoilers for the Dark Brotherhood questline
Art by evian_fork
The Beginning
Nelkir and the stranger fled down the passage way, both panting with exertion, their clothes bathed in crimson blood. The stench of acrid sweat rose from them both, and they rode on terrified screams in their ears.
No one remained alive in Dragonsreach.
They had escaped down a hidden passage in the larder, a secret door Nelkir had known about. The door was hidden in the stone of the larder wall, but it gave away easily at the stranger's touch. As they passed through, it closed on its own, and the stranger glanced over his shoulder to see a the black skull staring back at him.
“'The night, my brother',” he whispered as they slowed their pace.
“What was that?” Nelkir asked between panting breaths.
“It's not important now,” the stranger replied.
The feeling of this place brought that nostalgic feeling back to the stranger, and he knew they stood in unholy territory, blessed by the dark love of the Night Mother.
“How do you feel?” the stranger asked Nelkir.
“I-I feel so...alive,” he breathed. “So alive. More alive than ever before in my life.”
“Good.”
“All those people. Dead. It's exhilarating.” He almost chuckled. “I want more.”
“There will be so much more to come,” the stranger said calmly, now taking the lead to guide the younger down the dark tunnel.
The tunnel split into three paths: one opened into a large cavernous room; another twisted downward into the bowels of the earth; and the last snaked around to the left. The stranger took this last tunnel, Nelkir close behind him, and they followed the winding path to the end, where they found themselves in a small tomb.
The room, pitched in black, held two objects: a small stone offering table long devoid of any offerings and a single, large coffin, still sealed. It was doubtful Nelkir could see these things, but the stranger saw them plain as day.
“Where are we?” Nelkir asked, his voice hushed now. No doubt he felt that they stood in a special place.
“Your home,” the stranger replied. “Should you choose to accept it.”
The stranger approached the coffin, sliding a white hand over its curved lid. Even to his cold, unliving skin, the coffin felt frigid, and a trail of goosebumps prickled its way up his arm.
“We come to you, Night Mother,” the stranger whispered, and he immediately felt a change in atmosphere.
A draft drew by, a chilling wind that sent Nelkir shivering. Ethereal light and smoke slowly formed around the room, casting a deep blue glow, lighting the faces of the two men in the room. Nelkir stared at the formless spirit amongst them, his jaw hung in awe.
And then She spoke: “My children. You have found me at last.”
“Mother!” Nelkir cried, throwing himself to his knees. A sob wracked his body. “Oh Mother, I had feared you had forgotten me!”
“Hush, calm yourself, child,” She said sternly. “And you.” She spoke to the stranger, and he lifted his chin in response. “You have done well, for a corpse.”
“The highest honor,” he said. “I thank you, Mother.”
She turned her unholy attention, who had managed to pulled himself to his feet. She spoke to him in words the stranger could not hear, but he could see the understanding in the boy's haunted eyes.
She had chosen Her Listener.
Then She faded back into the Void, leaving the tomb to fall back into darkness. Nelkir's heavy breathing was the only sound for several minutes.
“What must we do now?” he asked breathlessly.
“Build,” the stranger said. “Build and spread terror through Skyrim, through Tamriel, until once again our name strikes fear into the hearts of everyone who hears our name.”
“Our name?”
“The Dark Brotherhood.”
Nelkir nodded.
“Take some time, child,” the stranger said. “You look to need it. Be mindful, however, as we have much work ahead of us.”
“Yes, sir,” the boy responded dazedly.
“It is I who should call you sir, Listener.”
Nelkir opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again and walked out of the tomb.
The stranger turned to follow, but an inky blackness darker than the pitch surrounding it caught his eye. It poked out from under the offering table, calling to him. He reached down and grasped the cloth, as thin and cold as if it were made from the Void itself.
Unfolding it, he discovered it to be a robe and hood. Vile energy spilled off of it, comforting his soul. He slipped it over his clothing, pulled the hood over his head.
And he smiled.