It seemed too perfect to exist outside the pages of a storybook; a hillside farm house with a grand view of the Imperial City, not far from the edge of the Upper Niben. It was a piece of country undisturbed by the bothersome ruckus of town, but close enough to the city to make the weekly trip for necessities hassle-free. Aaron was especially ecstatic about the new home, but for his own special reasons. There were more insects and small animals for the young boy to catch and play with, and the nature-enthusiast had a lot of yard explore.

"Remember, this is not at all like the city!" A voice called out from the front porch. "Do not wander too far or out of sight."
"Da!" Aaron blasted from where he was playing, not more than a hundred feet away. "I'm ten years old! I'm almost a man!"
"Doesn't matter- there are things out here that make an easy meal out of people- boy or man."

"Yeah, and you face them almost every day!"

"Because it's been my job for almost fifteen years now. I have skills and wits that help me survive each encounter."

Indeed. Since the raw age of thirteen his father made a living as a large game hunter. Because he was one of the few that dared to take on an animal twice the size of an average man he was well respected and heavily paid. It didn't hurt that, as one born under the Shadow, he had the ability to make himself invisible for a brief amount of time- that was a valuable power for someone who had to strike his target before it even suspected that it had company. One could say he managed well for a single parent, but because he was alone it was still a struggle in the beginning. But when Aaron was older and experienced enough to share chores and look after himself, it lightened the burden his father had to carry.

Aaron noticed him wincing with a sharp, backwards hiss through his teeth. He abruptly jumped to his feet and raced over to see what he was doing, carrying the large toad he caught in his gentle hands.

After reaching the steps of the the porch he was met with an unexpected and disturbing sight. "Da? What are you doing?"

"Something I've meant to do for a long time." His father's right arm was covered in red marks, which were made by the edge of the dagger he carefully scraped over his skin. But careful or not the bleeding couldn't be avoided. Aaron was shocked and confused by what seemed like an act of insanity. Perhaps being bored out of his mind in the country was what drove him to do it. "And I think you're old enough to understand why I'm doing this."

"Ya, I really hope you do tell me why you're cut'n yerself up! Are ya going crazy?"
"No." His father chuckled. "Y'know that this part of my arm was always covered, right? Wrist bands, long sleeves, gloves, gauntlets..."
"Yeah, come to think of it."
"And you see what I've been covering up, since I haven't finished removing it?"
"A... tattoo. But da you have a few others that y'never cover up. Why this one?"
"Because this one was a declaration to the world of a commitment and promise."

Aaron was in silent contemplation for a moment, sighing as he watched the remaining black marks on his father's skin turn red. He cringed, not because he was abhorred by wounds, but because he thought about how much the process of removing the tattoo must hurt.

"To ma?" Was all he uttered after being quiet for so long.

His father paused briefly as he looked down at him with his solemn brown eyes, before narrowing his brow and coldly paraphrasing. "To the woman that gave birth to you. There are probably a thousand things one could call her, but 'ma' is not one of them." He continued scraping.

Aaron's brow popped up. Had he been a boy who knew his mother at all he would've been offended by his father's criticism, which seethed with an old contention. But until he learned about how life began he thought Lucien LaChance was the only parent he ever had.

"That's gonna scar bad." Aaron pointed out, half distracted from the subject.
"Probably. But it'll be much easier to look at." He smirked as he applied a disinfecting paste to his arm.

"What happened?" He asked, taking his gaze off of Lucien's arm to give him direct eye contact. "Please, da. Like ya said I'm old enough to know... and don't sugar-coat it."
"I never have, and I certainly don't intend to now. You deserve the unadulterated truth."

Aaron seated himself on the old wooden chair next to Lucien, waiting attentively for what he believed was going to be a long story. As Lucien began to wrap his arm he searched the sky for his reflection.

"She got into the skooma... and then entered the world that revolved around it. She left us for it... and then it killed her." Was all he said, crunching the entire story down to a few simple sentences. Aaron sighed heavily, petting the toad as he watched it's throat bubble out each time it took in a breath.

"I'm sorry, buddy." Lucien heaved as he slouched back. "It's alright."
"We've been doing just fine on our own haven't we? I've tried to be both parents... to give you a happy life..."
"I know... yeah everything's fine. I never knew her so... it's not that big'a deal. I'm happy. But are you happy?"
Lucien chuckled. "You make me happy, kiddo. I think that I'd be lost in this world without ya." "Aaaw." Aaron made a wry face at his father's 'mushy' words. That's when he decided to change the topic. "So, y'gotta hunt tonight?"

"No, Aaron. It's Sundas. We're going into town."
"We?"
"Yes, 'we'. You and I."
"But what about the goats? Don't ya want me t-"
"They'll be fine. I put plenty of food in the trough to keep them happy all day. Go wash up real quick cause if we want to be back before sunset we gotta leave in a few minutes. Alright?"
"Sure!"

Aaron bolted through the creaky front door with zeal in his heart. Lucien picked up the toad that was sitting contently on the table in front of him and gave it a quick pat on the head before releasing him into the field.

Lucien did not 'sugar-coat' the story at all, but he withheld lot of details. He did not want to be a man that allowed his past to consume him or anyone else. That is why he decided to finally remove that tattoo, which was a part of a traditional Imperial marriage. He did not want to drown others in the grimy tales of what he had to endure since the night his ex-wife, Rosalla, started behaving strangely. He also avoided telling Aaron that it began only three weeks after he was born because he knew that the boy would ask if it had anything to do with him, and Lucien would have to answer truthfully. The truth was 'yes'.

No one needs that on their conscience. He thought.

As Lucien waited for Aaron, the memories he struggled to distance himself from lurched out. Memories of Rosalla's mood swings that got worse and more frequent during the five days that followed Aaron's birth; Lucien was verbally and physically assaulted every time he returned from a hunt- she was convinced that 'hunting' was a code word for 'seeing other women'. It wasn't the truth, but the quirky voice in her head told her that it was. The voice also told her that Lucien drank heavily and hit her with the broken leg of a chair, and she distributed those rumors through her equally eccentric friends. Fortunately the people Lucien had to worry about receiving those rumors knew it was a lie, seeing no evidence whatsoever that she was even pinched.

Lucien didn't know it at the time, but this was the first prominent sign that Rosalla was ingesting skooma. If he did he would've been prepared for the next appalling act that happened a week later. He returned one night to a house void of anyone but a very neglected infant. Aaron was crying at the top of his lungs over several things that were not tended to- he was hungry, heavily soiled, cold, and deprived of parental love for what seemed like the entire day. The desperate father rifled through the entire town for help because he did not have the means to feed him. Fortunately Velus of the Merchant's Inn had a good alternative to breast milk and the starving child was finally well fed.

Rosalla's whereabouts and reason for absence was unknown to him for quite some time. After another week, worry promptly turned into fury when she returned. She was not kidnapped, trapped, or harmed in any other way- she was staying in one of the hotel rooms at "The King and Queen Tavern", taking in enough shots of skooma to completely loose sense of time and concern for anything but herself. Lucien demanded an explanation, and that is when she revealed to him the shady life of self abuse that involved not only skooma but lewd activities with groups of men and women that were also lost to the substance. She poured out all of her hatred for the tedious repetition of...

"Eating, baby, cooking, baby, sleeping, baby! No more thrills! No more joy! Just routine!" She screamed.

She did not have Lucien's sympathy. Instead he expressed how disgusted he was by her lack of strength and willpower. He contested with the fact that...

"Everyone has to put up with a long stretch of dull and strenuous routine every now and then! That's life! And it's not like this all the time, you just dwell on nothing but the negative and ignore all the wonderful things that are right there within reach- I ask if you want to go out you pout'n say you don't feel like it! I ask if you want me to stay home and you say you want me to go ahead and get the hell out of the house and leave you alone! You are such a piece of work! And this skooma... and everything you've been doing... God, I thought you were above this! I never thought you were stupid enough to fall into it... do you know what it does.. or what it has done to you!"

It was pointless for Lucien to recount the fact that he didn't leave everything up to her. He helped out around the house when he was able to- but Rosalla stubbornly believed that she did everything and he did nothing. She hardly noted the many nights Lucien got less than two hours of sleep because he offered to lift the baby burdens off of her weary shoulders.
But the one thing that made it clear to Lucien that Rosalla was no longer going to be in the picture was the unforgivable act of abandoning the infant. It was not going to take more than one incident to convince him to extinguish her from their lives. So the night that Rosalla returned was also the night he would see her for the last time. Out of fear of harassment Lucien decided to move out of the Waterfront District house and live secretly with Velus and his wife Janine. One month later, imperial legionnaires reported to LaChance that they found Rosalla's body in Bravil.

He felt no remorse.

The first five years did not simply roll by- they sluggishly moved through a horrible grit. Such times in Cyrodiil were unkind to single parents.

But we made it. I don't know how... but we always found a way. Lucien thought. One can get through anything if they have unwavering faith and spiritual endurance.

Lucien did not give up, and keeping his son in mind inspired him to preserver.

As much as Aaron loved being out in the country, there were some things in the Imperial City that he missed. They used to be within walking distance of the most engaging entertainment, scrumptious treats that could never be made better elsewhere, and loyal old friends that were practically adopted into their family. Though their primary reason for being there was to gather weekly necessities, Lucien wouldn't deny the opportunity to catch a show at the theater or visit warm acquaintances. The day was somewhat soured by a commotion that rang throughout the entire city. Within every district, at least a hundred or so protesters gathered together to vehemently express how unsettled they were about Uriel's tax system. Lucien detected nothing threatening about them since it was only hot air that the people threw out left and right. They seemed angry, but well behaved. Lucien planned on staying until noon, but because of the stirred-up bunch putting a fowl stink in the air for them both they thought it was better to cut their merry time in half and go home early. But they couldn't leave without making one last stop at "The Laughing Dragon", a quaint little pub in the north side of the Market District (Which, under new ownership, would later become a clothing shop called: "Divine Elegence".)

"Weeeeeell! It sure's been a while since I seen ya! How'ya been LaChance!" A meaty, bearded man behind the counter beamed.

Lucien returned the wide, toothy smile as he and Aaron walked over to the counter. The bartender gasped when he saw the boy.
"Good laaaaaord, is that yer lad there!" He bellowed. "He's grown too fast! Like he wa'n't but a little babe a year ago!"

Lucien nudged Aaron. "You remember Lokei don't you?"
"A little." Aaron replied with a shy grin. "I think I remember this place too."
"Ya y'should. When y'da was out hunt'n you stayed 'ere with some other kids tha m'wife watched over. Bar's an odd place fer sitt'n but all them kids turned out better than most, I think."

Aaron hopped onto one of the bar stools to sit next to his father, whom was given a complimentary mug of spirits. "Did I mind well, sir?" He asked.
"Oh haha! As well as any child yer age would."
Aaron laughed. "That don't sound good."
"No, really. Y'were alright, kid. Just too curious fer yer own good a'times. An' bless ya, y'wanted to share what y'found under a rock with tha other children- some'a them didn't share th'enthusiasm."
Lucien laughed into his mug, spraying some beer back into it. "Sounds like my boy, alright!"

Their delightful moment was sharply interrupted by a reminder of the protesting when the chanting outside grew louder.

"I know taxes are important but... damn." Lucien grumbled.
"Been like tha' fer a week, now. Where d'ya stand?"
"I don't think much about it... then again I don't have to. I live in the country now. I don't get taxed that hard."

"Hey da." Aaron butted in, tugging on Lucien's sleeve.
"Hey back. What'cha want?"
"Well... since we're here, and won't be back for a long time, can I go to the book store?"
"Did you finish the other ones already?"
"A'course I did."
"Wow. Well alright they're... about three or four Septims so... here." Lucien dug out some loose change from his pockets and handed it to Aaron. "Good, tasteful literature. None of that Maid crap. Alright?"
"Alright. Thanks Da!"

Aaron hurried out of the pub, hardly phased by the crowd that was growing in size just a few blocks down the street.

"So... how's it been?"
"What?"
"He's older now but still... ya raise'n him up on yer own. No mother."
"We do just fine." Lucien exposed his right arm so that he could apply a fresh treatment.

"Oh lordy, ya finally did it. Oh, but that musta hurt!"
"It wasn't so bad. Gonna take a while to heal though."
"Hopefully it'll heal fast if ya gotta have a priest put a new one on soon, eh?"
Lucien shook his head with an eye roll. "That's not going to happen... ever."

"Come now. Rosalla was a weak, self-absorbed bitch but'cha don't let tha make y'think all women're like that. M'bye there's a strong, confident, honorable spirit that'ya could be proud of wait'n fer you ta go up to 'er n'introduce yerself."
"I just don't have any inclination to settle down again... ever."
"Not even fer yer son?"
"All he needed was a mother-figure and the ladies like Rohssan and your wife Cassandra provided that very well."
"I s'pose yer right'bout that."
"I know I am."
"But what about... ya know... 'certain needs'?"
"I still have hands don't I?"

Both Lucien and Lokei tore their sides apart with hefty laughter.

All day long the waves of angry cries and outbursts filled the city. But a change occurred in the tireless symphony- anger turned into fear, hollering turned into screaming, and instead of remaining stationary the crowd was a formidable stampede that tore through the streets and alleys.

"The hell...that doesn't sound like protesting." Said Lucien, with a growing dread lumping in his chest.
"No... tha surely does not!"
"Sorry Lokei but I need to take off. I don't think Aaron's safe right now!" Lucien bolted to the door without giving a second to hesitation.

Lucien was shaken to the core by a ghastly sight the instant the door swung open. The streets were littered with bodies in a river of their own blood. Those who still remained in the crowd were fleeing, some barely clinging to life as they crawled on their elbows. He wouldn't let fear hold his feet to the ground- at high speed he darted into the mess to get to the other side of the district, nearly vomiting on his way to First Edition when he made the mistake of looking at the dead on his way there. A few legionnaires caught his eye- swords were drawn and drenched in blood. Something clearly went awry and gave them a reason to attack the crowd, and many innocents went down with those that started trouble.

"Aaron!" Lucien screamed, but his voice was drowned out by the flood of cringe-inducing screams all around him.

"AAaagh...oh God no..." Lucien coiled and jerked his head away when he saw a mother holding what remained of her five-year-old daughter, whom had nothing to do with the protest. She was only passing by at the wrong time. Just like Aaron.

"Oh...lord... no... no no no." Lucien was on the verge of snapping into a panic when he thought about Aaron meeting the same fate, sinking his spirits down into a deep, cold place. "He went to the book store...that's probably where he was when it happened... at the book store. He's okay. He's okay." Lucien sprang around the corner, ready to burst into the "First Edition". But Aaron was not inside. He was sitting on the steps, hunched over with his arms crossed over stomach.

"Aaron!" Lucien screamed.

The boy slowly turned his head towards his father. His eyes glistened under the flood of tears that poured out of his eyes.

"Da." He said with a dry weakness in his voice. At first Lucien was relieved to see that he was still alive, but upon uttering that one word a bloody cough followed. At that very instant any remaining strength Lucien had in his body was stolen from him. He dropped to his knees and crawled the rest of the way over.

"Aaron wh...wh.. what happened! What...did they do? What the hel...he...made them..." He lost it- he couldn't fight back the tears induced by the sight of his one and only son fatally injured. Judging by how deep his wound was, and how much blood he had already lost, Lucien knew Aaron had only a few seconds of life remaining in him.

"Da." Aaron coughed. "Y'were... goo'da."

The only thing Lucien could do was comfort his son until he breathed his last, cradling him back and forth in his arms. So many questions filled his mind- he wanted to know what possessed the guards to attack everyone in the street most of all. But he knew that Aaron, barely able to manage a whisper, would not be able to give him answers.

"Aaron... y... yer all I have... my whole life!" Lucien cried, drenching his son's dark hair with his tears. "You were such a good boy! I love you son... I've always loved you, God help me...God help me I don't know what I'm going to do now...I d'know...y.. you are everything... you're my life."

"Is... cold, da." Was Aaron's last words.

When the boy's body went limp, and the last of his tears streamed down from his blank eyes, his father lost all fortitude. Along with the other mourners, he wailed like never before into Aaron's chest until he could utter nothing but a shudder exhalation.

Emperor Uriel Septim received word of this tragic slaughter when one of the few noble legionnaires reported to him with the untainted truth. Uriel was a soft-spoken sort. It was said that the day he yelled at anyone would be the day snow fell upon the Planes of Oblivion. So when he began spouting his outrage at the very top of his lungs, everyone within an earshot believed Mehrunes Dagon was gathering his minions for a snowball fight. The legionnaires responsible for the innocent deaths were given astonishingly light sentences- all ranks hit rock bottom, all merits and rewards were confiscated, and their names were stripped from the Book of Honored. Uriel's forgiving nature would serve as a fault in this case. So much was disinherited, yet no one lost their place within the legion.

Uriel Septim announced to the public the very next day, and not without a long-winded apology and assurance that he did not approve of the legionnaires' actions, that he would cover all of the expenses that went into burial and services for the departed; Aaron among them. He was buried next to the other members of the LaChance family in the Palace District.

Lucien knew that his son was not six feet beneath where he curled up and prayed all his failing heart out to the divine powers that he was loosing faith in. Aaron's soul was in a place where he would find eternal rest and happiness. He knew this- a boy like him deserved it.

"But are you happy?" Lucien remembered those words that melted away a part of an ancient hurt in his heart.

Such a sweet boy to consider the well-being of others. He had such bright future... the possibilities were endless for him. He was bound to have a happy and successful life. But not anymore. His chance was stolen. By those pigdog legionnaires! Lucien clenched his fists and teeth as he embraced the headstone, unable to pull himself away despite his hunger and need for rest. He wanted to believe that he would eventually find a way to let go of things he could not control and embrace what was set in motion. It was something he had to do every time he lost a family member in the past. But Aaron's case was different. The boy was truly all the family he had left.

In time the imperial gathered enough will to leave the cemetery, dragging himself into the Market District to find sustenance at the Merchant's Inn, where he knew he could get himself a decent meal and a strong mead. This would be unfortunate for a few of Velus's customers, who were helping themselves to too much alcohol. They were mourning, but not over loss of lives- it was over the devastation of their careers. Lucien hardly noticed them when he walked in- or anything other than Velus and the counter. But after he was given his meal and mead, contemplating as he picked at the food like a finicky cat, he tuned in to their conversation.

"H'said fire when they ge' out 'f c'trol and that wha'we did!" One of them shouted, barely understandable after downing his sixth bottle of beer. "N... no.. he said fire if they st...start getting violent. Well someone threw stuff at us...r...right?" The other replied.
"Is't that th'same thing?" "Yeah... it is."
"So do you think y'lives woulda been in peril... if ya hadn't killed that five year old?" One legionnaire in the corner scolded. "You all need to just suck it up'n take s'me responsibility fer your actions. You put this on yerself so... I don't pity you. I went down with all'ya because I struck people... but I did what I was told... I struck those who tried to kill Nathan! You... you on the other hand... didn't bother to discern! You... just hacked away at anyth'n that moved...y... stupid bastards!"

A loud and garbled disagreement roared from the other legionnaires as they threw bottles and food at him.
"Screw you... I'm done with you all!" Were his final words before sitting at the counter, wiping the mess off of his uniform as he muttered more profane comments under his breath.

"What is your name?" Lucien asked him, not certain why he bothered to strike up a conversation, let alone want to know what his name was.
"Cornelius." The legionnaire answered. "Why?"
"I want to know who I am thanking for saying what had to be said. And for being one of the few that know how to control themselves in a chaotic situation. And, I guess, sorry that you had to fall with them."
"Well... thanks." He nodded, taking a couple heavy gulps from his bottle. Surely he had better self control, but because he was one more bottle away from being drunk he was less apprehensive about speaking his mind. "The emperor was furious... yet I don't think he was furious enough. He lets them stay. Were I in his place, I'd first break m'foot on their asses and then have 'em exiled."
"What happened out there exactly?"

"Well...after a full week of every district in the city filling up with people yelling and cursing about taxes, rattling the nerves of the legionnaires that were commanded to strike only those who threatened lives... patience and restraint wore thin. That was how the chaos began, when a handful of violent protesters attacked a guard who made a smart remark. What he said is neither known nor important, but it was not a welcomed comment and someone believed he deserved to get impaled for it. Once that fight began, and some of the attacker's buddies joined in, I motioned for a few guards to help me deal with them... and just them, I swear to the Great Akatosh.
When emotions are high intelligence will always get stomped down to the lowest level- one stupid move after another, exchanged between legionnaire and protester... it's hard to know exactly what happened because it happened so fast...but I do know that those men... who are, I should add, supposedly trained to pay attention to detail... those men decided to just strike everyone. They lost it... they blindly swung at everything that went by. Panicked or just falling into a passionate fury that built up over the week... it doesn't matter why, they knew what they were doing... and they didn't stop. You know something... I'm not supposed to say this... no civilian is supposed to know this... but far too often a soldier is excused for slaying an innocent when they claim that it is... 'collateral damage'."

As Cornelius rolled on Lucien felt a hot, sick anger form within. The men responsible for his son's death were no more than a couple feet away. His head and heart throbbed as the temptation to strike them all down intensified. Of all things LaChance lost, or thought he lost, a clear mind and self control was not among them. He understood how foolish it was for one mere hunter attacking all five imperial soldiers at once. He was a methodical stealth hunter; if he decided to be their executioner he would put more planning into it.

"I would do it." Cornelius admitted.
"Do what?" Lucien asked, though he was quite sure of what he was insinuating.
"They killed innocent people. That's a crime punishable by death. I'd do it... but I have too much to loose. I have a wife and daughter."

But I have no one. Lucien thought, letting Cornelius's words sink into him and arouse a greater desire for vengeance. He wanted to dig more information out of him. "What are their names? What are their schedules like? Routines? Where do they usually go at night?"

But LaChance held back. Perhaps Cornelius was hinting to Lucien that he should exact revenge, but perhaps not. Uncertainty in that matter kept him silent, but he made up his mind about what he wanted to do. The legionnaires had to die for what they did, there was no question about it... and he was going to be the one to kill them.

He decided to eavesdrop on the marked legionnaires to learn everything else he needed to know. Names, places, events, and significant times were thrown out by loosened tongues all evening. By midnight Lucien had more than enough information to come up with a fool-proof strategy.

(End of Part 1)