This is the sequel to the mini fic I wrote called "Lighting the Dragonfires" though it's not really necessary to read that one first, as everything gets explained. From there, Exsanguinate covers the whole of the Dark Brotherhood quest, and many others, with some slight and some severe variations. I'd like to thank Pheonicia for letting me use Maranique, as the character is originally hers. Also thanks to Alani, for without whom this story would be stuck back at Chapter 20. Also, special thanks to ThreeEyedSquirrels for the talk through. :D

Disclaimer: Oblivion is owned by Bethesda Inc, and not by me. All characters mentioned belong there and I'm merely playing with them.

Exsanguinate
Chapter One

"Affirmative Action"

“Arch-Mage Alderan!” shouted an associate as the Dark Elf mage descended from her room high in the tower of the Arcane University.

With a barely contained eye roll, Adair swivelled to gaze sternly at the shaking associate. “Yes?” she asked, thinly disguising irritation with concern. “Is something wrong?”

“It’s . . . it’s Master Polus, Arch-Mage...” the associate quibbled under her fierce glare and he visibly shrank backwards out of her line of fire.

“What about him?” she snapped, stepping down off the lightly glowing transportation pad. “Well?” she asked, her voice rising as the boy swallowed loudly and didn’t answer. Adair sighed loudly before forcibly gentling her voice and face. “Dyan, wasn’t it?” she asked and he nodded jerkily. “I’m sorry I frightened you,” she said soothingly, and bent down a little to be on his level. “What’s wrong with Raminus?”

The boy refused to meet her eyes but he whispered, his voice still shaking. “He’s dead, Arch-Mage.”

All expression bled out of the tall mer’s features to be replaced by cold rage. “Where is he?” she snarled. With a trembling finger, the associate pointed to the door leading just outside the tower. Dyan actually bolted when she stormed past him, her lithe body vibrating with power. The front doors to the Arcane University blasted open with a deafening bang and the Arch Mage strode out only to come up short at the dead body laid out in front of her.

“Arch Mage,” another associate hedged nervously as she knelt at her dead friend’s side. She shot him a venomous look and the tow-headed Imperial quickly shut his mouth.

Kneeling by Raminus’ serene face, Adair slipped his head onto her lap, running her fingers through his hair before gently closing his eyes. “I’m sorry,” she whispered to him. “I’m sorry old friend.” With blazing eyes, she stood, staring down the quivering associate. “Find every staff member, magister and associate on the premises. This nonsense has gone on long enough!” she barked, and the boy ran.

Gently carrying Raminus’ body into the tower using a strong telekinesis spell, Adair slowly made her way back inside. Maranique was waiting, and the battlemage stared at her leader impassively. “Necromancers?” she asked flatly.

Adair nodded morosely. “He has the stench of death about him,” she said softly. “We have to burn the body,” she added. “Their raising spell takes days to work.” She leaned against the wall her expression threaded through with exhaustion. “And damned if I’m going to let those fetchers do that to him.”

Maranique glanced through the still opened door, silent. “The throng is here.”

The Arch-Mage rose to her feet. “Come with me,” she ordered sharply, and the battlemage followed her outside. Everyone fell silent when she appeared on the dias. “Friends and fellow Magisters,” she called. “Our beloved Master Wizard, Raminus Polus...was killed this morning by necromancers. Although we have stopped the process they have undoubtably used on his body, this nonsense has gone on long enough. Maranique has a list of all the Necromancer Alters. Anyone over twenty five, go with her to be formed into groups.” She narrowed her eyes as the wind blew. “If every single alter is not destroyed by the end of the month, there will be hell to pay.”

“But...!” called someone in the crowd, “people will die!”

“People have died!” Adair shouted back. “And damned if I’m going to let them pick us off one by one. Mannimarco is dead, and it’s time they started acting like it. Go!” Without sparing the last remaining council member a glance, Adair cast her Recall spell and vanished in a flash of white light.

-

She appeared in Cheydinhal, just outside the main gate. News of Raminus’ death wouldn’t have reached there yet, as far as she could tell only a handful of people could teleport. She had marks all over the providence, even some in Morrowind, though she suspected that time and distance had faded those. She made her way towards the Guard’s Barracks, trying to muster up a smile for the man who was waiting there.

She came up the tower and reached into the pocket of her long cloak, pulling out an enchanted ring, something Garrus had given her for their first anniversary. Adair blinked a few times and the shimmer of magic settled around her head showing the glowing purple life forms inside the building. “Garrus!” she shouted, and finally found her smile as one of the glowing magic figures turned towards the shut window. “Garrus...” she sing-songed out and the shutter to the window burst open.

“Arch-Mage?” a voice called teasingly down towards her. “Is that you?”

“Of course it’s me, you silly s’wit,” she called back with a barely contained eye-roll. “And don’t call me that!”

Garrus leaned out of the window, looking down at his erstwhile lover. “Call you what? Arch-Mage? Isn’t that what you are?”

“If you insist on calling me that,” Adair called back teasingly, crossing her arms over her chest, “I’ll just go away and find someone else to spend my time with.”

Garrus leaned a little farther out of the window. “Oh?” he called, “and where would you go?”

She grinned, finally able to push sadness away from her. “Skingrad,” she mocked. “I have to find Sinderion, we have alchemenical things to discuss.”

For a moment Garrus looked worried, but the distance wiped most of the expression off his face. “Then I shall have to come down there and convince you otherwise.”

“If you must,” she laughed, putting on a belabored air. She turned as though to walk away and the moment the shutters slammed closed she spun back around to watch the now familiar figure of Garrus bolt down the stairs towards her.

He caught her around the waist and lifted her into the air; spinning her around before bringing her close. “I missed you,” he whispered into her shorn hair. “Each time you are away I feel your loss more acutely everyday.”

She carded her fingers through his hair at the nape of his neck and gently kissed the side of it. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I’m so busy, it’s hard to get away from Ocato now.”

“It’s been five years since the Emperor died,” he reminded her gently.

“And it’s been five years since we had no heir,” Adair chided him, pulling away. “You don’t have to wait for me,” she said softly.

He leaned up and gently kissed her. “I would have no other woman,” he told the mer, “and we have too much to catch up on to stand here talking.” With no further ado, Garrus lifted the startled Adair into his arms and he carried her through Cheydinhal.

“Garrus!” she shouted in surprise, struggling against his arms. “Put me down you fetcher!”

He only chuckled and held her tighter. “You and the rest of the town know that if you wanted to get away,” he told her archly, “you’d have already done it by now.”

She immediately stopped struggling and narrowed her red eyes at him. “Or I could do this,” she said and the wind swirled around them while the world blinked out of existence in a flash of white light.

When the world stopped spinning, Garrus found himself standing in her house, his arms empty. “That wasn’t very fair,” he said to the air.

Adair leaned over the balcony that looked down into the kitchen. “Arch-Mage!” she sing-songed at him and he raced up the stairs to catch her. Neither of them noticed the front door opening and closing.

-

Lucien Lachance stood still at the bottom of the stairs to Adair Alderan’s bedroom. He listened to his soon-to-be recruit and her lover unashamedly. It had taken him almost five years to get Ungolim to agree to recruiting the Arch-Mage. Five years. Lucien had taken great pains to orchestrate her joining.

Freshly named the Champion of Cryodiil, her dispatch of daedra and the Mythic Dawn was cold and ruthless, her odd eyes narrowed in concentration. She looked much the same when he set the fool Nord on her in Anvil.

But Ungolim forced his hand, Lucien told him everything, and the Listener closed himself from the Speaker. Until now. Their Family was falling apart at the seams, a traitor was killing them slowly from the inside out, and eyes were on him.

He needed someone who he could trust, someone to watch him, to kill for him and finally to absolve him.

Matthieu Bellamont was not going to win this time.

When the noises from above slowed to a halt and Lucien could hear their breathing even out, he carefully climbed the stairs and sat in the chair by the bed. He twirled his enchanted ring around his finger, a nasty habit he succumbed to when he was particularly bored. The Ring of Shadows cloaked him from the naked eye, not that either of the naked occupants of the room had their eyes open.

It just wouldn’t do to be caught by the City Guard Captain. He had a reputation to uphold.

-

Maranique gestured angrily for silence as she and her battalion of Battlemages slipped invisibly into Dark Fissure. Each brave associate had been given Adair’s special Chameleon spell which contained both the power of its name and life detect within a hundred yards.

The associates skilled in marksman went first, picking off Necromancers with highly enchanted arrows and bows, then the stronger mages, who burnt the remains to cover their tracks. The group of six mages moved soundlessly through the caves, leaving little invisible markers to show their passing.

The smell of death, decay and burning bodies wasn’t out of place in a Necromancer sanctuary. She was going to be washing her skin off for months.

Dyan placed a glowing purple hand on her shoulder. “Maranique,” he whispered, “this cavern ends in a dead end. We have to go back.”

As one, the group turned and were face to face with a tall altmer mage, several zombies standing around her. Everyone stopped moving, stopped breathing, hoping she hadn’t heard them.

A blank smile was on her face before she muttered one word. “Dispel.”

The Chameleon dropped and Maranique took a single second to yell, “FIRE!”

It was the last second Dyan ever had.

-

Garrus rose early in the morning, rolling over to smile down at Adair’s sleeping form. He brushed her blue-black hair away from her eyes, leaning down to kiss her gently. She stirred into wakefulness against his lips and opened her eyes sleepily to smile at him.

“Morning,” she sighed out, stretching like a cat into the warm covers. “What time is it?”

“Early,” he said vaguely. “I wanted to wake you before I left for morning watch.” He kissed her again. “So you wouldn’t wake up alone.”

Her eyes popped open. “You woke me for that?” she said teasingly, rolling over and away from him. “Silly fetcher, I could still be sleeping right now.”

Garrus rolled her back. “Will I see you after I finish with the watch?”

She shook her head, and for one brief moment her eyes lingered on the chair by the bed, but they slid away and Lucien breathed again. “No, I have to get back to the University. We’re taking a bit of an...affirmative action stance against the necromancers.”

Her lover chuckled. “I’ll miss you, as always.”

They chatted for a few moments more before the Captain of the Guard dressed and hurried quickly out the door. Adair lay for long moments in silence before sitting up and stretching with no regard to her nudity. “Who are you,” she said pleasantly, “and what are you doing in my room?”

Lucien started almost violently and stared at the semi-naked dunmer. “How did you know I was here?” he asked.

She wiggled the fingers of her right hand at him. Shining mutely on her thumb was a silver and sapphire ring that gleamed with a hint of power. “Life detect,” she said unnecessarily. “Now, who are you?”

Lucien took off his ring of invisibility, disappointed when she didn’t gasp. “I am Lucien Lachance,” he said smoothly. “A Speaker for the Dark Brotherhood.”

Lucien had been an assassin for almost as long as he could remember, he’d appeared before hundreds of individuals, women who screamed, children who cried, men who gibbered in terror. Not one of them had ever laughed before.

When Adair could breathe again, she wiped at her eyes with the back of her hands. “The Dark Brotherhood?” She giggled again, through her next words. “Are you here to kill me then?”

It was Lucien’s turn to chuckle. “If I was, you wouldn’t have known I was here.”

The smiles and laughter in the mer’s face was gone one instant to the next. “No, you wouldn’t have,” she said evenly. The sharp glint in her eyes told Lucien more truth than her lips did. “I was raised by a Telvanni Wizard when I was taken from Morrowind. How close do you think you would have gotten to me before I noticed you?”

“Not close at all,” the man confessed.

“Just so long as we understand that.” The smile was back. “If you’re not here to kill me, Mr. Lachance, what are you here for?”

He leaned forward and produced The Blade of Woe from nowhere. Adair didn’t look too impressed but she took the dagger anyway. She ran sensual fingers over the flat of the blade, feeling the harnessed power the ebon and gold knife held. “That is the Blade of Woe and it...” he halted suddenly at her snort, and when he glared she arranged her face to look contrite. “It will aid you. On the Green Road lies an inn, the Inn of Ill Omen and...” she snorted again. “Have I said something to amuse you?”

“The Inn of Ill Omen?” she repeated. “How...unfortunate.”

“Yes,” he said annoyed. “In this inn you will find Rufio, an old man with a weak heart, kill him with this virgin dagger, and I will come to you when I deem it worthy.”

Adair laid the blade on her coverlet and crossed her arms over her chest. “Let me get this straight, Mr. Lachance. You want me to murder an old man with a weak heart?”

“Ask him and find out what he’s done,” Lucien said enigmatically. “Perhaps I will see you soon.” He slipped the ring back on and rose quickly, vanishing out the open door.

“I can still see you,” she called after him, and he grimaced even as he vanished out the front door. She chuckled to herself, standing only when she could no longer see the purple mist and dressing quickly. She obviously had a few errands to run today.

-

She flickered into existence just inside a crumbling tower. Immediately to her left stood a shocked mage conjurer who just as immediately fell over frozen solid with a strong paralysis spell. A dark head looked over the top edge of the Tel. “Arch-Mage? Is that you?”

Rolling her eyes at the mer’s antics, Adair forwent answering and instead began levitating herself up to his level. Adair frequently practiced her levitation when visiting the Tel, almost always forgetting she could never hold it long.

Just before reaching the top, the spell ended with the sound of a fizzled out candle and she felt a brief sensation of weightlessness before being pulled telekinetically into Fathis Aren’s arms. “Hello Father,” she said muffled against his shoulder.

“Don’t call me that,” he chastised her, but he didn’t let her go.

“Then don’t call me Arch-Mage,” she responded in the same tone.

Fathis laughed and let her go. “Why do you always insist on levitating up here when you can’t make it the full way?”

Adair let him lead her to his work room. “Because someday I’m hoping you’ll take pity on me and teach me again?”

He shot her a dry look. “If I and Hassildor couldn’t do it, then you’re just hopeless. You’re a terrible Telvanni.”

Adair took that moment to poke him in the chest. “That’s because I’m not a Telvanni,” she reminded him. “I like living in houses, and I like people.” Fathis gave her a scathing look and she revised her statement grudgingly. “All right, fine. I like most people.”

She hopped up onto his work table and he stared up at her. “Since I’m sure you haven’t come to see if I will teach you to cast successful spells, child, what have you come for?”

“I actually had a question for you,” she said. “Have you ever heard of the Dark Brotherhood?”

TBC in Chapter Two; "Positive Reaction".