miss_m_cricket (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
miss_m_cricket) wrote2009-08-13 11:54 pm
miss_m_cricket) wrote2009-08-13 11:54 pm
Entry tags:
Fic: Shadow of a Grave
Title: Shadow of A Grave
Fandom: The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
Rating: Any Age
Genre: Tragedy/Angst
Characters: Lucien Lachance
Disclaimer: I do not own nor claim to own The universes of Oblivion, characters or circumstances within the game.
Summary: The new Listener pays their respects...
A/N2: Originally posted on FF.net. Don't expect anyone to read it as Oblivion is a tiny fandom. But I did enjoy writing both this piece.
Shadow of a Grave
Darkness shrouded the silent farm of Applewatch. No lights shone in its windows and no creatures made any sound.
Silent as night’s shadows a hooded and cloaked figure walked lightly up the path to the house and stood before the door.
For long moments the figure stood, its hand gently resting on the rough wood of the door. Then they pushed it open.
It was a simple, plain house, with nothing remarkable inside it to draw the visitor’s attention. Or at least it had been until the Black Hand had so foolishly and misguidedly murdered one of their own here in a desperate attempt to cleanse their ranks of a traitor.
The hooded figures eyes immediately fell on the trussed up and mutilated form of Lucien Lachance, former Speaker of the Dark Brotherhood. He was still hanging here pathetically, forgotten by the Night Mother, by his only surviving murderer Arquen and by the rest of the family that he had loved so much.
But not his former Silencer.
The visitors mouth, the only part of them visible, twisted in a bitter grimace. As always when they witnessed the remains of a man who had been a mentor and superior they felt anger course through them.
Sometimes they wondered why the Night Mother hadn’t protected Lucien, when she had so clearly known his fate when she allowed young Bellamont into their midst. When she knew he had been so loyal to his family.
As Listener the visitor knew the Night Mother intimately and revered the being with every fibre of their blacker than night heart. Therefore the anger and hatred that they felt at Lachance’s end had to be directed at another. Their second in command, Arquen who had taken such delight in Lucien’s demise filled the role splendidly.
Stalking across the room the Listener drew a silver dagger and sliced the rope that kept Lucien hanging upside down. Holding the body, which was starting to smell something awful, carefully, the hooded figure gently began to wrap black cloth around it. Hiding the mutilated wounds, the missing jaw, the missing genitalia, the sightless staring eyes.
Gathering the now swathed body in its arms, the figure stood and moved out into the dark night and over to a boulder a ways past the farmhouse.
A grave lay waiting, and with surprising tenderness the Listener laid the body of its former Speaker gently into the grave. As the figure began to close the grave it murmured into the dark night air.
“I’m sorry it ended like this for you Lucien.”
On the road a young Imperial Guard saw the moving shadows and quickly dismounted, running over to the freshly dug grave.
“Hey you!”
But the shadowy figure was gone.
The guard looked around dumbfounded, hand groping for his sword hilt. The wind sighed around him and he turned in circle, uncertain, because he had been sure he had seen a figure here digging this grave, a hooded figure.
A soft blood red light suddenly shone from behind him and he whirled, drawing his sword with a yell.
But it was not the figure nor was it some other other-worldly being.
As he watched, the red light wrote curling words the colour of freshly spilt blood.
‘Here lies the body of Lucien Lachance. Loyal Brother, Speaker and Leader. He will be remembered as a true Child of the Shadows.
May you always rest in the Shadow of Sithis my brother.’
The guard stumbled away, back towards his horse but he could see, could feel the red words burning on the stone of the boulder.
He galloped away into the night.
Silence fell once more, and darkness reigned again.
Except for the red as blood words, the last tribute to Lucien Lachance which burned in the darkness until dawn arrived and banished the shadows.
But every night at the time when murders occur and assassins roam the land, the words on Lucien Lachance’s grave burn into the dark as red as fresh spilt blood on a Speakers robe.
Fandom: The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
Rating: Any Age
Genre: Tragedy/Angst
Characters: Lucien Lachance
Disclaimer: I do not own nor claim to own The universes of Oblivion, characters or circumstances within the game.
Summary: The new Listener pays their respects...
A/N2: Originally posted on FF.net. Don't expect anyone to read it as Oblivion is a tiny fandom. But I did enjoy writing both this piece.
Shadow of a Grave
Darkness shrouded the silent farm of Applewatch. No lights shone in its windows and no creatures made any sound.
Silent as night’s shadows a hooded and cloaked figure walked lightly up the path to the house and stood before the door.
For long moments the figure stood, its hand gently resting on the rough wood of the door. Then they pushed it open.
It was a simple, plain house, with nothing remarkable inside it to draw the visitor’s attention. Or at least it had been until the Black Hand had so foolishly and misguidedly murdered one of their own here in a desperate attempt to cleanse their ranks of a traitor.
The hooded figures eyes immediately fell on the trussed up and mutilated form of Lucien Lachance, former Speaker of the Dark Brotherhood. He was still hanging here pathetically, forgotten by the Night Mother, by his only surviving murderer Arquen and by the rest of the family that he had loved so much.
But not his former Silencer.
The visitors mouth, the only part of them visible, twisted in a bitter grimace. As always when they witnessed the remains of a man who had been a mentor and superior they felt anger course through them.
Sometimes they wondered why the Night Mother hadn’t protected Lucien, when she had so clearly known his fate when she allowed young Bellamont into their midst. When she knew he had been so loyal to his family.
As Listener the visitor knew the Night Mother intimately and revered the being with every fibre of their blacker than night heart. Therefore the anger and hatred that they felt at Lachance’s end had to be directed at another. Their second in command, Arquen who had taken such delight in Lucien’s demise filled the role splendidly.
Stalking across the room the Listener drew a silver dagger and sliced the rope that kept Lucien hanging upside down. Holding the body, which was starting to smell something awful, carefully, the hooded figure gently began to wrap black cloth around it. Hiding the mutilated wounds, the missing jaw, the missing genitalia, the sightless staring eyes.
Gathering the now swathed body in its arms, the figure stood and moved out into the dark night and over to a boulder a ways past the farmhouse.
A grave lay waiting, and with surprising tenderness the Listener laid the body of its former Speaker gently into the grave. As the figure began to close the grave it murmured into the dark night air.
“I’m sorry it ended like this for you Lucien.”
On the road a young Imperial Guard saw the moving shadows and quickly dismounted, running over to the freshly dug grave.
“Hey you!”
But the shadowy figure was gone.
The guard looked around dumbfounded, hand groping for his sword hilt. The wind sighed around him and he turned in circle, uncertain, because he had been sure he had seen a figure here digging this grave, a hooded figure.
A soft blood red light suddenly shone from behind him and he whirled, drawing his sword with a yell.
But it was not the figure nor was it some other other-worldly being.
As he watched, the red light wrote curling words the colour of freshly spilt blood.
‘Here lies the body of Lucien Lachance. Loyal Brother, Speaker and Leader. He will be remembered as a true Child of the Shadows.
May you always rest in the Shadow of Sithis my brother.’
The guard stumbled away, back towards his horse but he could see, could feel the red words burning on the stone of the boulder.
He galloped away into the night.
Silence fell once more, and darkness reigned again.
Except for the red as blood words, the last tribute to Lucien Lachance which burned in the darkness until dawn arrived and banished the shadows.
But every night at the time when murders occur and assassins roam the land, the words on Lucien Lachance’s grave burn into the dark as red as fresh spilt blood on a Speakers robe.
no subject
(Anonymous) 2009-08-13 08:43 pm (UTC)(link)I have Oblivion (and love it), though I've never read nor had any interest in reading fic for it. But I've been happily hooked on your work through your Reaper of Bones series and GODDAMMIT! (If I can borrow a curse from our favorite doctor..) I suddenly feel far more immersed in this world than I've had in a million restarts.
So, before I go start up yet another game with my new found appreciation for the brotherhood, let me give you two thumbs up and add another tick on your list of fan-girls.
Keep on with the excellent writing!
<3