A/N: This is a prequel to my other 'fic, Dark Devotion. It's based about ten years previously, and actually has very little impact on the main story. I just wrote this to try and figure out my main character's background.

It's quite a bit shorter - about 4 chapters, I think. But hey, there's a lot of Lucien, so what more can one ask for? (Just to warn you, though, I do not write a nice Lucien. I write more of a heartless, creepily calm, scary smart, I-love-shiny-pointy-objects-and-I'm-very-good-with-them-and-I'll-use-them-if-you-look-at-me-wrong-sort of bastard.)

And, since I almost forgot, I don't own Oblivion, wish I did, -insert other standard disclaimer stuff here-

-Dark Child-

It all started with a lock.

To my defense, it was a particularly recalcitrant lock. I'd already snapped off five of my picks in it. At that time, I didn't yet have the patience to deal with repeated failure. I sniffled quietly and rubbed at my eyes, wiping away tears of frustration. I had been so proud of myself, sneaking into the house, and now I couldn't get a simple jewelry box open. No wonder my Doyen kept telling me I needed more experience.

To tell the truth, I really did. I was only ten years old. A scrawny, black-haired, brown-eyed, Breton street urchin. A daughter of the Waterfront poor. Just like everyone else in my group.

"My group" was a bunch of kids, anywhere from toddler to late teens, who lived together in the basement of an abandoned house. Some of us had families, some didn't. Most of us didn't want to be home anyway. There were about a dozen of us, all told. Half of us were Thieves Guild. The Doyen in the area didn't like us being in the guild, though. He always worried that we'd get ourselves caught, or hurt, or even killed. He especially didn't like me being in the guild, even only as a lowly Pickpocket. I was the youngest, you see. So, no matter what I managed to bring in, he refused to advance me.

I knew I had the skills. I was extremely small for my age, barely reaching three-and-a-half feet in height. I always went barefoot, wearing nothing more than breeches and a shirt, both dyed dark to better blend with the shadows. And I could move nearly silently. That, coupled with my size, made me more successful than you would think. I could hide almost anywhere. And if things went bad, I could run like the wind, dodging through crowds. The downside of this was that, tiny as I was, I couldn't carry much at all.

After a couple of unsuccessful runs when I started, I learned to target jewelry. I could carry plenty of jewels in my pockets, wrapped separately in rags so they wouldn't jingle together. Half the time their cases weren't even locked. I admit, though, I had a habit of trying on the necklaces and rings and admiring my reflection in the water when I thought no one was watching. What little girl wouldn't do the same?

But you had to be good. Or at least quiet. Jewels were kept in the bedroom, with the owners sleeping a mere breath away.

On that day, though, the couple was out of town, and the house was empty, save for the servants. I smiled to myself as I inserted another pick. Taking a deep breath, I forced my small hands to remain steady. I carefully pulled out the broken bit of my other pick and tapped at the pins of the lock. This attempt was more successful than the others and my smile widened into a grin of triumph as the lock clicked open.

I lifted the lid, picked out a few choice pieces and slid them into my pockets. Novice thieves make the mistake of shoveling the lot into a bag. All that does is make a lot of noise, and ensures that you'll never be able to rob that place again. That was a lesson drummed into me over and over by Ja'krivva, the best thief in our group.

She told me: "Ja'krivva discovered that if the hunter only takes a couple, the lady may assume that she lost them. She'll replace them, and a few weeks later, the hunter can have another go. If a thief takes all of the gems, they may be replaced, but the lady will be watching for another break-in. This is not a good thing. Ja'krivva made quite a profit off of one forgetful woman, who was convinced that she lost her rings every few days. Ja'krivva even amused herself once by returning an amulet to her for a reward."

It was true. The oldest thieves were the ones that knew to pace themselves. Greed in our guild tended to get you dead.

I was just closing the lid of the jewelry box again when I heard a noise. Panic seized me when I recognized it as the front door opening and closing again. I'd already checked to make sure all of the servants were asleep, so either one had awoken and left for some reason, or someone else had just come in. Neither option seemed good.

My worst fears were realized as I heard footsteps coming up the stairs. I hoped that it was a fellow thief, but I knew that was unlikely. Whoever was climbing the stairs wasn't trying to be quiet. Quickly, I scurried into a corner by a desk, concealing myself in the shadows. I crouched down as small as I could make myself, and prayed that my heart would stop pounding.

The bedroom door opened, and the Master of the house, a Dunmer, entered and lit a lamp. Despite my panic, I found myself wondering what in the world was going on. What was he doing back here? Half the City knew that the couple was heading to Anvil for a week. The beggars had told me about it, and I'd chosen to break in on the third night that they were gone. Why was he back, by himself, and several days early?

I was actually a little annoyed that he would interrupt all my planning like this.

The Dunmer started to shut the door behind him, but paused, left it open, and began pacing back and forth across the room. As he paced, he tried to shake the dust from the road out of his clothing, but with little success. Obviously, he'd ridden hard to get here. Every once in a while he'd stop, glance over at the door, and look worried.

My legs were beginning to go numb. I wriggled my toes, trying to keep my feet from falling asleep. Other than that, I didn't dare move, save to slowly bow my head so that my dark hair fell over my face, hiding my pale skin from the flickering candlelight.

Suddenly, my attention was drawn to the doorway. Even though I was sure that I could see nothing but empty air, my brain insisted that it had seen a movement. I squinted, and thought that the air looked a little wobbly, the way it did in the summer over the hot cobbles. If I wasn't going crazy, someone was using a Chameleon spell.

But…I hadn't heard the front door open again. My head spun, trying to make sense of what was going on. Just then, the spell was dropped, and a man appeared in the room.

He was wearing all black, a hood and a robe, black gloves and boots. They shimmered gently with enchantments. His hood was drawn over his face, so I couldn't really tell what he looked like, save that his mouth was drawn into a harsh line.

The Dunmer jumped nearly a foot in the air when he turned to see the other man standing there. He wasn't the only one. Using one hand to brace himself against the desk, he clutched the other to his chest. "You-! I'm sorry, y-you startled me. I…Are you f-from the Dark Brotherhood?"

The man nodded silently.

My heart leapt into my throat. The Dark Brotherhood! I was dead. I was so dead. The Brotherhood was an assassins' guild. I'd heard of the rituals that they used and the people that they killed. If they knew that I was here, that I was a witness, I'd be dead faster than I could blink. The fact that I was only a child meant nothing.

Despite my fear, however, I admit that I was intrigued by the whole thing. I was as curious as could be at that age, a trait I've never really gotten rid of. I just don't do really stupid things to satisfy it nowadays.

I remained in my corner, utterly still, as the master of the house walked behind his desk. He was very obviously trying to put distance between himself and the black-clad man. He unlocked a drawer and removed a folded piece of paper, which he held out with a trembling hand. The assassin made no move to take it. After an awkward few seconds, the Dunmer got the hint, and laid it on the desk instead. Only then was it picked up and opened.

I decided that this must be a meeting to discuss payment, or details, or something like that. I wondered briefly who was going to die, but shrugged it off. Death didn't bother me, as long as I wasn't the one doing the dying. I'd seen plenty of death in my ten years of life. Mostly knife fights between pirates, or the occasional ill child. To me, death just happened, whether you deserved it or not. It wasn't particularly interesting anymore.

The little man stood there, fidgeting, as the Brotherhood member read the slip of paper. The cowled head lifted, nodded once, and the assassin spoke for the first time. "The Contract is accepted. I suggest you leave now."

The Dunmer all but threw a bag of coins onto the desk and bolted. I've never seen anything that didn't live in the sewers scurry away quite so fast.

The paper and coins disappeared into the velvet robes, and a ring (likely the thing with the Chameleon enchantment) appeared. The assassin rolled it back and forth between thumb and forefinger for a moment, then turned and looked straight at me. I nearly died of heart failure then and there.

"You may as well come out. You are good, but I've known you were there since I entered the room." I was shaking like a leaf at this point. Was he bluffing? He could have been bluffing.

I had just decided to remain in the corner, hoping that he didn't really know I was there, when he shrugged and added, "Or you can stay there and die in the corner. I can separate your head from your shoulders just as easily from here."

Eep. I stood, wincing as blood came back into my tingling legs. I stumbled towards him and came to a halt about an arm's length away, unable to make my feet go those extra few steps.

Now that I was closer, I had a better view of his face. He was an Imperial, a good two-and-a-half feet taller than my child's frame. And…he didn't look like one of the monsters that the people in the Brotherhood were supposed to be. He looked like a normal man. Maybe even nicer-looking than most of the people I knew. His eyebrows lifted slightly as he examined me.

"So young…only a child…" he murmured. His eyes raked downwards, resting on my bare feet. A crooked smile flitted across his lips. "I thought leather armor was the definitive uniform of the Thieves Guild."

I stayed silent, quaking, too afraid to do anything more than breath.

He reached out, hooked a gloved finger under my chin and studied my face. I felt the electric prickle of the enchantments his clothes bore, but forced myself to not pull away.

"To spy on a Speaker of the Dark Brotherhood…" he mused, "That is a deadly game, little one. Not what you bargained for, to be sure, but now I am faced with several options. Tell me, what should I do with you?"

I bit my lip, trembling, but still refused to say anything. I blinked rapidly, trying not to cry. Tears of pure terror coursed down my cheeks anyway. His hand left my chin and brushed them away.

"Don't cry, little one. To die is not such a bad thing, and that's the worst I would do to you."

I shook my head, pulled away, and tried to dash for the door. There was a blurred whirl of black cloth, the world spun, and in the next heartbeat I found myself pinned to the desk, a dagger at my throat. I blinked.

"Don't do that again." His deep voice sounded almost bored. The dagger was pulled away and tossed on the desk beside my head. I glanced over at it as it clattered on the wood. I swallowed. Hard. It was my dagger, the one I kept strapped to my calf. I tried to sit up.

"Don't-!" I froze at the hissed command and his voice settled back into a sibilant whisper. "-move. Good girl." He pulled another dagger from somewhere and tapped the point against his lips as he stared at me. "Intelligent, yet foolish. Brave, yet terrified. Young, yet skilled. Rebellious, yet obedient. A study in contradictions. A silent, dark child." He used the dagger to gesture at the door. "I won't dispose of you here, at any rate. We will discuss your future, short as it may be, in another place. Come with me, and stay as silent as you were before."

He slipped his ring on and blurred into the background once more. I hesitated, and was rewarded by the cold prick of the blade at the small of my back.

"Go."

I scowled at the empty air and snatched my dagger from the desk, sliding it into its sheath. It was only iron, but it had cost me half a month's work. No way was I leaving it behind.

Moving gently on the balls of my feet, I ghosted out of the room and down the stairs. I didn't dare look behind me to see if the assassin was still there. I knew he was. A quick glance out the window downstairs showed no guards walking by, and I eased the door open.

Slipping through the six-inch gap, I considered running for it. Surely I could get away before he managed to get out the door himself? Another prick, this one between my shoulder blades, dissuaded me from that idea. I looked over my shoulder, to see that the door was already shut. Again, I hadn't heard a thing.

"Left." the velvety voice ordered. I obeyed, and continued to follow the whispered directions until we had eased down into the sewers that run underneath the city.

I actually liked the sewers. They were cool and dark, even on the hottest summer days, and the smell really wasn't that bad. As long as you stayed away from the drainage lines themselves, that is. I practiced my skills with a dagger on the rats that lived down there. That may sound like nothing, but a few of them were nearly as big as I was. I never was brave enough to figure out what they were eating.

I never ventured too far in, though. After one run-in with a goblin, I steered clear of the nasty green creatures. And the kids whispered rumors of ghosts that lived in the depths. Or worse.

So, I was terrified when the assassin guided me to a door that I knew led into those depths. "N-no." I whimpered, digging in my heels.

He paused and looked down at me. He'd already removed his Chameleon spell, and I could see the flash of impatience, "No?" he inquired softly.

"Things live down there." I shuddered. "H-horrible things."

"Really? Are they worse than me?" The tone seemed gentle, almost kind, but the steel underneath was unmistakable.

Even to a ten-year-old, the answer to that was obvious. We went through the door.