A Sweet Lullaby

Oblivion Fanfic Mature Horror/Drama Oneshot

Summary: "Its okay," I soothe, "I'm here to help you." A more twisted take on a DB murder.

Another cold night, another freezing breeze of a long winter ahead swoops in from the windowsill and stabs through the time-worn blankets over you like tiny shards of glass in the dark. You mutter some thing unintelligible under your breath, creating thick, brief puffs of condensation before simply burrowing your head farther into threadbare pillows. Unimportant as the chill of winter, I slip down easily from the swollen wood of your windowsill; my light step and padded feet noiseless. Undisturbed, unsuspecting, you still slumber on the same faded red pillows you slept on the night before, and the night before that. Not quite a smile, not quite a quirk, the very edges of my mouth pull upward. Of course they are the same as the night before. I understand how your life works, my sweet charge. Like an hourglass, the endless grind and shuffle of daily life drip downwards until the day is gone. Sleep for a while, flip the glass, and let life repeat itself again. Reflexively, my pale Breton hand drifts toward my liberator- a silver dagger encased in nightshade poison. Absently fondling the pommel, I fall back into my accustomed habit of staying low to the ground in a crouch, mechanically studying every dark corner- an exit, a hiding spot, a threat I somehow missed? No, nothing out of the ordinary. Just a solitary little room in a solitary little inn swallowed by the whole grand design of Cyrodiil.

Inevitably I turn back to you. Not once have you even twitched, even felt my intent gaze on you back as I silently count the time between your breaths.

Better safe than sorry, I always say. A slow inhale, a pause, exhale. Inhale, pause, exhale. Good, no nasty surprises or tricks waiting for me. Not that I was really worried- you had no idea your life is about to end tonight. Another moment of reverence squeaks by in honor of your execution. Don't you understand? My hand itches to end it for you- end the lifeless existence you've borne, end the shackles of mortality clamped down hard on your soul. A miniscule smile passes over my pale face as my stalwart companion for all these years whispers in my ear, my other half in this life. Sithis agrees with me- its time to leave your living of mundane seconds followed by decades of dust and decay. Carefully, oh so carefully, I approach, moving aside from the small beam of moonshine gradually inching its way along your face. So sweet, so innocent, so unsuspecting. Like a child, Sithis whispers, a child going to sleep.

Its so hard not to simply turn you away from here and into Sithis' embrace. I yearn to bring you to the reality of things, but Sithis will not take you in if I rush you to sleep. Things like this must be handled gently, he reminds me, with love and care. How else will the child know he is loved? I want you to know that Sithis loves us all- even you, even me. Now its time for you to meet him. Unbidden but not expected, I can hear myself softly utter a silencing and paralyzing spell lest you want to take others to sleep before their die is cast. I would be a poor daughter of Sithis if I let you anger him greatly.

Finally, as the moonshine splashes over your eyelids like a cleansing rain, you stir, dark eyes unfocused and confused. "Its okay," I soothe, "I'm here to help you." Your eyes fill with dawning understanding, and with it, misunderstood horror at your Final Rest. Shivering and breaking out in a terrified sweat, eyes the size and shade of porcelain plates, your jaw works frantically, desperately in a rough hinging motion. Next comes the jerking throws of your shoulders against invisible restraints. Terror dies out into despair in a heartbeat, tossing and turning fear breaks into inaudible sobs and tears. "You poor, poor thing," I croon, using a black gloved finger to brush aside the tears. "Sithis wouldn't want you to cry. You're going to meet him, and you can't keep our Father waiting." The last gleam of hope withers away as the nightshade poison flows its way into your bloodstream and to your heart within seconds. "There there," I smile, closing his eyes placing the one black and one white stones on his eyelids. "See? Sithis sings you a sweet lullaby to sleep... The same way he sings to me."

Antoinette Marie will be there too, someday, if I please the Father.