» Wed May 02, 2012 10:08 am This story has been in my head for a very long time. I also posted this on Fanfiction.net under my old account, BlackRaptor93, so there is a chance some of you have read it there. This story contains violence, gore and all the fun stuff. It will be very Babette-centric (as she's is without a doubt my fave Skyrim character) and chronicles my character's descent into Vampirism through her.
I like to think Frode is somewhat unique. He is not a bloodthirsty, stone cold killer. He has emotions, feelings, and doesn't necessarily like what he does fully. What he does like, however, is those around him. His family, however makeshift they may be. And neither is he a sly, slinking Elf or other such race - but a big, rather burly Nord who goes against just about every convention his kind are known for.
Enjoy!
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After what seemed like an eternity did the bulky Nord finally manage to excuse himself and retire to his chamber. It was not that he wasn’t glad to see his family again – by any stretch – but simply that he’d travelled a very long way very quickly. The last contract had been an Imperial hunter who found pleasure with other’s spouses – and someone had found out. Naturally, not only did he have to travel all the way down to Riften, but the client was very clear on making it look like an accident. Thank Sithis that the exact details of that where left up to the Listener himself, because it took him no more a few hours after his arrival to set up an unfortunate encounter with a very aggressive cave bear for the Imperial, which most certainly did not end well. It was a relatively small and simple contract, but the travelling always took it out of him – but thank Sithis that the Night Mother sensed her Listener’s weariness and allowed him a few short days of respite. Frode Skyshimmer rolled over onto his right side, eyes flickering over the many cracks in the stone wall as he lost himself in thought.
In truth, Frode had never expected to join The Dark Brotherhood and become a murderer. Nor had he expected to care so deeply for them all, this gathering of murderers. So much so that he had grieved for two days in private when all was said and done and they had moved to the sanctuary just outside of Dawnstar. He couldn’t bring himself to imagine what he would do if he lost those he had remaining. Frode decided to banish that line of thought as quickly as possible, and let out a small sigh. There was a sudden presence behind him on the bed that had he been anywhere else - or indeed had it been anyone else – would have made him put a blade to the offending person’s throat. As it was, he knew perfectly well who had gotten into bed.
“Listener, is something troubling you?” Spoke the voice from over his shoulder, tinged slightly with concern. Frode smiled gently – a genuine smile – and rolled over onto his back, enough so he could see the small shape; one hand tucked under her head and the other by her side. Babette, possibly the most brilliant alchemist in all of Skyrim, a three hundred year old Breton vampire trapped in the body of a ten year old and most importantly, his family. Not his only family in the sanctuary, but perhaps the one he cared the most for. She also had a habit, whether through her own sense of companionship or his own, of climbing into bed with him on the days he slept through. He had no objections, of course. He sometimes mused that perhaps she sometimes tried it with Nazir, though Frode doubted it would go quite so well.
“Babette, it is unusual for you to care so much.” He murmured lightly with a soft chuckle, eyes flickering to her. Her eyes met his blue ones before a small smile perked the corner of her lips, in a way that was not entirely fitting on such a young face, but as he constantly reminded himself, her body simply had not aged as her mind had.
“It is unusual for you to be so asocial. I find it hard to get rid of you most days.” She countered sweetly. Babette was brilliant at acting; such was her main skill as an assassin. She could get into places that none of the physically older looking members could, and generally go unnoticed and could use her natural appeal as a young, innocent girl to her advantage, and she certainly knew it. But in this case it certainly was true; if Babette was not busy or on a contract of her own, she could often be found teaching Frode alchemy – something he’d really taken to since he’d joined the family. What an arrow alone could not do, one dipped in poison could. Regardless, it was enough to make the Nord laugh.
“A fair one,” He grinned; pushing himself up so he was staring down the long hallway towards the central chamber of the Sanctuary. “I am just tired, Babette. That contract was simple, but to travel half of Skyrim there and back in under two days was certainly a push even by my standards.”
She studied him then in silence; the only sound being of his breathing. He found it slightly unnerving – not out of anything Babette was doing, simply that he had never liked silence. In silence he found his brain resorted to thinking on issues he did not wish to think about consciously. He waited for several moments before the vampire moved down the bed enough that she could look up at his face. He met her gaze for as long as he could before his eyes faltered and he was forced to look away; focussing instead on the set of ancient brotherhood armour he’d put on the mannequin to keep its shape. He only wore it if he felt the occasion special enough, and right now his eyes took in every detail in an effort to escape what was growing at the back of his mind.
“Brother, I have been around for three hundred years. I know when something else is bothering you.” She finally said. Her tone was not exactly demanding, but Frode knew that one way or the other, she would get it out of him. She was persistent and when it came to her family, doubly so. Though at times her demeanour was one of indifference, Frode knew she grieved as much – if not more – for those she had lost in the attack than he had. He tensed slightly before sighing and looking to her.
“It would be an insult to lie to you, Sister.” He murmured softly, finally meeting her gaze. He felt like a child again, being forced to admit something he didn’t want to. Like the time he’d pushed his brother into the nest of Hornets then ran home laughing, forgetting his brother would swell up like a balloon. His mother hadn’t been best pleased with him. But it hardly mattered now, both his mother and brother where dead. “I have been thinking long and hard. Since we moved here, actually – I was wondering if you might...”
“You want to become like me.” Babette spoke with such suddenness and simplicity that Frode lapsed into stunned silence. He looked to her, eyes widening slightly. He immediately cursed himself; how could he even think to ask that of her? He was about to apologise when she spoke again. “You are not the first one to ask this of me, Listener.”
There was silence after that; Frode chewed his lip and looked away. “I am sorry Sister, I shouldn’t have asked that.” He sighed softly and ran his hands through his shaggy brown hair, eyes closing. He felt Babette gently lay her small hands on his cheeks and he frowned quietly, opening his eyes once more to watch her expression. It was, as always, all but unreadable. He leant into her touch just a little bit, still concerned by her silence, before she spoke.
“Is it what you really want?” Babette asked him. “It is not a decision you should make lightly, Brother. Your life will never be the same again. I am willing to turn you, if it is what you want.”
Frode was stunned once more into silence. He looked at her – stared, really – in shock. He had seen and heard many things since coming to Skyrim, but never did he think he would hear Babette say that. He had gathered – not so much through her words, as she did not speak of it – that her own turning had not been one of free will. The fact that she was offering to pass it on to him was something that he could not have prepared himself for. He looked to Babette before he nodded firmly.
“It is, Sister.” He breathed, his voice cracking just a fraction. His heart was hammering in his chest, and he realized with a small sense of amusemant that the only other time he had been so utterly nervous was when he held a blade to the Emperor’s throat. Apparently he equated the two on some level, which in a way was natural. It was not as if he was going for a new look. This would change everything he had ever known, and everything he would know. He noted Babette nodded slightly in return.
“After it is done and you are like me, I will teach you how to live as a Vampire. You will be incredibly thirsty in your first few days and very irrational as a result, and it would be most unfortunate to lose our new members so quickly.” Babette smirked softly, enough to expose one fang, pausing for a moment to straighten her dress. He frowned gently.
“What of Nazir? Will you inform him? What if I-” He started, but Babette gently shushed him.
“You will not. Hungry as you are not going to be a mindless animal. You love him as much as you do me, yes? Then there is nothing to worry about.” She assured him in a calm, gentle tone. He smiled lightly and nodded, frowning as she gently pushed him back down onto the bed and straddled his chest, hands on his shoulders. He watched her with a vaguely worried expression before she murmured.
“If I had known, I would have made a numbing agent. But as it is better to get this out the way, this is going to hurt, Listener, and hurt a lot. But I will do my best not to prolong your suffering.” She gently leant down, kissing his neck gently. He felt a genuine thrill of fear, and for a second he had the sudden realization of what it must be like for those who Babette was contracted to kill. Of course, they had little idea that this little girl was strong enough to bite straight through their throat. She raised her head enough to whisper into his ear.
“Close your eyes, Brother.”
And then her lips withdrew and there was a sharp, horrendous pain in his throat. His back arched and his eyes filled with tears, but he could not make a sound. Babette’s hands clamped like the grip of a python and pushed him back against the bed as his fingers curled into fists so hard he thought he’d crush them. The pain in his neck did not wane but waxed; growing and spreading through his entire body. He choked out an animal sound of pain, his vision becoming dim as he felt the sharp points of her teeth withdraw; her hand moving to cover the wound. He could see her as a indistinct hazy shape with no features; his entire body began to relax as unconsciousness threatened him. She bent over and lightly kissed him on the lips, leaving a coppery taste there that he realized with some morbid fascination was his own blood.
“I love you, My Listener.” She whispered soothingly before the world fell away and he was plunged into darkness.
