Vampire's Kiss

Disclaimer: No, I do not own Oblivion, its characters or places or ideas. Nor am I making a single Septim from this. Sniff

Summary: A stranger arrives to the Sanctuary who is more than just familiar with Vicente. But her agenda is not quite her own, and not quite so innocent.

Author's Note: I'm going to take a certain amount of license not only with character backgrounds – of which there is precious little to go around – and with the story lines as found in the game. Also this is my first attempt at an Oblivion FanFic. Please don't shoot me for any of that. *Puppy Eyes*

The italics at the beginning of each chapter are my translation of the song "Irgendwas Bleibt" from the German band Silbermond. All credit for that belongs to them, only the fact that the words are in English is my doing.

Prologue

Tell me that this place here is safe,

and that everything good stands still here.

Lovingly, Tessa ran a hand over the smooth black door leading into the Sanctuary. The words, harshly whispered by the door, still lingered in her ears: What... is the color of the Night? A smile curled her lips. It had been too long since she last heard these very same words. Far too long. And yet the rasping voice was a welcomed one, for it meant she was home.

"Sanguine, my brother." She finally answered, followed by the whispered command of a concealment spell. It had been too long, and she feared that none would remember her. She couldn't imagine that any of her former Sanctuary Mates would have survived the past ten years. No... that wasn't entirely true. There is one who would, but she didn't know if he still was here.

Neither her cloak swirling around her, nor her boots made a single noise as she slipped through the door.

At this time of night, only the dark guardian lumbered through the shadowed common room, paying the door no heed. The warding spell which questioned the new arrivals prevented any unwelcomed guests from passing. Everything still looked the same. As if she had left but yesterday. With just those memories guiding her, she let her feet carry her across the room to the passageway on the other side, and down the long stairs, past several other doors huddled together on the landings to that part of the Sanctuary which was darkest. Three doors hid in the darkness. She stopped directly in front of the one at the very end of the hall.

Faint sounds of someone still up and about on the other side of midnight, carried to her ears in the silence. But would it be him? Tessa hesitated a long time, before her hand finally rose to the polished wooden surface of the door. It, like the rest of the Sanctuary, was over two hundred years old, and yet showed no sign of wear or tear or decay. It wasn't so much that it had been replaced or well tended, but rather well preserved through Magicka. The faint hum of its life essence humming underneath her well attuned fingers. To her senses, it was a consistently soft background hum which had always lulled her to sleep almost instantly. The beat of the warding and preserving magicka was the heartbeat of her home.

She had missed it.

The faintly echoing sound of foot steps drawing closer caused her to withdraw deeper into the shadows of the awning of one of the closed doors, willing her breath and heartbeat to pass unnoticed. With eyes accustomed to the shadows, she watched as an Argonian wearily threaded up to the door and knocked without hesitation. A growled "Come in" answered from the other side.

Her heart missed a beat.

She knew the voice. He was still here. With a smile, she settled down to wait for the Argonian to complete her business. Only once her steps had once again faded up the stairs, did Tessa finally step up to the door again. This time she did not just lay her fingers onto the smooth wood. Softly, she rasped her knuckles against the wood, finally allowing her chameleon spell to drop.

"What is it now?" The irritated voice asked from beyond. Tessa didn't answer, but quickly opened the door, and slipped through. A black figure with a black hood sat on the chair in front of the desk, leaning back in a posture of relaxation, looking at the door with a crinkle of mild irritation around the blood red eyes. No muscle was tense and the hand which still held the quill seemed to float on the air without apparent effort from its holder. Knowing Vicente, the relaxed posture presented was anything but relaxed. His off hand was invisible to her, and was quite probably fingering the blade normally hanging at his side. He was as deadly with a dagger in his left hand as were it in his right hand. But even should he be unarmed, it did not in the least make him less dangerous.

"What a warm welcome." She accused with a smile touching the corners of her lips. It was the only part of her visible underneath her hood and cloak, and she wondered if her voice alone would be enough for him to recognize her. Her hand moving slowly, movements measured, she brought it up to her head, quietly slipping the hood back over her head to rest down her back, revealing her features. High cheekbones stood out underneath liquid seeming and candlelight dancing brown eyes. The candlelight picked out echoes of amber in the expressionless depths. Her lips bore signs of recent, and repeated gnawing, as from a nervous tick and her face was all together too pale. The black hair, only a shade or two away from mundane, was pulled back into a long braid which coiled over her shoulder to rest against her chest, a single yellow ribbon tied the thick length together, braided part ways up into the matte looking black hair.

The red eyes examining her glinted dangerously as she revealed her features. The intense stare made her lips quirk up into an embarrassed smile.

"Vee, I..." she began, her voice catching in the back of her throat. His silence was beginning to worry her. "I guess," she tried again, "I'm somewhat late."

"Late?" He finally spoke, his tone slipping into a low growl. "Late?" He repeated a bit louder, rising to his feet, towering over her by half a head. "You," he snarled, his finger pointing at her, and with each word, he took a step closer to her. "you are a fifty-three years late!" With his last word, he stood directly in front of her, his hand reaching up for her throat, pinning her against the door.

She didn't struggle.

"fif..." she tried to speak, but his hand squeezed harder, stealing her breath.

"Silence!" He snarled at her, pushing her harder into the door. She closed her eyes in dread. It seemed, she would first have to gain absolution from his bestial side, before she could even hope to reason with his rational side.

Vicente pressed his body into hers, firmly trapping her between the smooth, wooden door and the cold, hard body of the Vampire – a new take on the old adage: between a rock and a hard place, she thought wryly. Then he shifted his cool hand away from her throat, before she finally felt the twin needles of pain lancing into her throat. Pain so intense it was pleasure.

Her last thought before unconsciousness finally claimed her was: I can't have been gone that long.

~V~

Vicente was still staring at the woman he held cradle in his arms when the knock on his office door came the next morning. Her breathing had finally evened out as her body struggled to compensate the blood loss.

He had lost control.

He closed his eyes and recollected his last memory of her.

"Hey Vee! I'll be going now." Tessa called out from the common room. With a smile he stood from his space at the workbench in the library, and headed over to her. She was dressed in normal traveling clothes – not meaning to stand out in a crowd as a sore, but waiting until she was ready to strike to don her shrouded armor.

"Careful Tes." He answered with a full smile, his pointed canines showing as she came up to him, quietly slipping her arms around him for a moment. He returned the gesture, placing a chaste kiss on her forehead and then she was gone with a twinkle of amber in her brown eyes.

He hadn't realized that it would be the last time he would see her, but he hadn't given up hope, for several days later the Listener himself had arrived with a rather cryptic message from the Night Mother and a rather startling change of the statue of the Lucky Old Lady. She who willingly suffered the vampire's kiss, will return when I am ready to release her, was the message given to him. As for the statue, it seemed a figure, prostrating itself at the feet of the statue, face hidden by a hood had been added. It was made of the same stone as the statue itself, puzzling the Listener and the population of Bravil in equal measures. Deep down in his heart, Vicente believed that the one in question had to be Tessa. Even as the rational in his mind told him it was impossible. This hope had allowed him to face the news with his composure intact.

A composure he had lost the night before when, after 53 years, she finally returned to him.

The knock on his office door was repeated, and with a sigh, he stood, carefully placing Tessa on a low couch standing to one side of his office. Without a word he opened the door a slit, revealing the black clad figure of Lucien Lachance.

"I was told you hadn't gone to bed yet." Lucien spoke into the silence. "What happened?" He added quietly, when he saw the seemingly bloodshot eyes – if such a thing was possible for the red tinted vampire eyes. Running a weary hand over his face, Vicente beckoned Lucien into the room, softly closing the door behind his Speaker.

The Imperial looked around, his eyes quickly spotting the woman draped across the low sofa. "Who is she?"

"She..." Vicente tried to speak, but ended up just waving the question away with a hand, his mouth working at finding words just out of his reach. He was not ready to speak. Turning away from Lucien, he walked over to Tessa's side, going down on one knee to better hear her now even but quiet breath and still struggling heart. He rested one hand on her forehead, as if to ensure himself that she truly was alive, and not a ghost.

On soft feet, Lucien walked up to him, resting his own hand on the vampire's shoulder.

"Vicente?" The gentle voice broke into the vampire's thought.

"She returned." He finally whispered with a soft shake of his head, as if it perplexed him. He had... hoped. For fifty-three long years. He had longed. The countless years fading into memory. He had despaired. After fifty years, he had promised himself, that in ten years, he would convince his heart that she was dead, her natural life span coming to its end. That the figure at the foot of the Lucky Lady could not be his Tessa, the message a hoax. He would have had seven more years to go, and yet here she lay, as young and healthy as the day she left for her last mission. He examined her features, comparing them to that image he carried in his mind. No, not as young. The features were a bit more angular than before. Creases had formed around her eyes – eyes which loved to laugh. Same as around the mouth. In effect, when he looked closely, it seemed she had aged but ten years. Running one hand along the arm closest to him, he could feel the toned muscles underneath supple skin - just has he had expected to find.

Lucien allowed the silence to stretch on. The vampire would know when he was ready to speak. "I recruited her into the brotherhood. Fifty-five years ago." Finally came the whispered words. "She was... different from the others."

"Tell me." The words were spoken not as a superior, but as a friend, softly, calmly. Lucien had never seen Vicente's composure this broken. Angry, yes. Raging mad, without a doubt. But sad and melancholic and almost despairing?

~V~

Clouds. She was floating on clouds a cool breeze running over her forehead to cool her down. With the realization of this vague thought, came the snorted answer in the back of her head: you're waxing poetic, girl. Why this thought struck her as funny, she couldn't quite tell. But then again, perhaps it wasn't as silly as the original sentiment which had prompted the rather curt reply of her inner voice.

She was not floating on clouds, but rather she lay on a very comfy mattress with a cool hand running over her forehead. The only person she knew with hands this cool – and not at the same time clammy was...

"Vee?" she breathed out, struggling to open her eyes to confirm her suspicions. The cool hand slipped down over her fluttering eyelids, as if to command them to remain still.

"Shhh" a soft voice whispered into her ear. "I'm here. Rest." A hint of a smile tugged at her lips, and she allowed herself to drift back into blissful unconsciousness.

An undetermined amount of time later it was not this same gentle touch and voice which awoke her again from her slumber. At first she was confused. Where was she? Raised voices shouting far away caused her eyes to flutter open to a candle lit darkness. The candle stood behind a screen to avoid troubling her sleep, yet leaving her with enough light to distinguish her surroundings.

A room. Smallish. A double bed. Wardrobe. Dresser. Screen. And there, behind the screen against which stood the bed on one side and the dresser on the other, the door. Shivering, she struggled out of the bed, one trembling hand reaching for the dressing gown hung over the foot board.

The commotion which had awakened her came from beyond the door. Two voices were engaged in a shouting match, a third one underlaid the conversation in calmer tones. She half walked, half crawled to the door, using the wall and dresser which stood against the screen to keep herself propped upright. It was upon this that the candle stood. For a moment she leaned against the wall, her legs half buckling with the strain of keeping her weight upright.

Once at the door, she nudged it open, wincing somewhat at the harsher light of the mage lit torches framing the hallway. Then she stepped through - smack into the middle of an argument. Vicente was growling at a Bosmer, from the annoying pitch of the voice, and an Imperial in Speaker's robes was standing a step behind Vicente, near enough that she could reach out and brush her hand against his back, leaning against the wall casually, an expression half ways between a smirk and annoyance on his lips. He turned his head slightly when she almost tumbled out of the door, reaching out a hand to steady her casually, before turning his attention back to the argument at hands. He kept his hand upon her elbow, as she gripped the door frame tightly. The other two had seemingly not noticed her.

"I demand to see her. The Night Mother has expressly announced her return. As the Listener it is my duty to see to her." The Bosmer was saying. From where she stood she could only guess at what the mer looked like – Vicente's and the Speaker's cloaked figures blocked him from sight.

"She is ill." Came the curt answer.

"And why is that? Because you could not control your darker urges."

"Three's a charm." Tessa interrupted him almost sweetly and, once Vicente shifted to glance back at her, his eyes catching hers in an almost hypnotizing gaze, before pulling away again, allowing her a view of the Bosmer he was speaking to: "Don't tell me the Fetcher's still alive." But this last part was said in a low whisper. A spark of what she was certain was merriment danced in the Speaker's eyes when he glanced at her. He had been close enough to hear her whispered cursing.

"You shouldn't be up." Vicente reprimanded her softly as he walked the three steps to her side, gently slipping one arm around her waist, offering her to lean on him instead of the door frame. The Imperial's hand withdrew, now that its support was no longer needed.

Her head dropped against Vicente's collarbone before she answered him. "I couldn't help but over hear your slight commotion."

Without another word, Tessa was ushered back into the room, the door closed firmly against the encroaching light from the hallway.

~V~

Lucien glanced over his shoulder as the door behind him was closed with barely repressed rage. Then he stepped into Ungolim's path as the Bosmer stormed towards the door. "Don't tempt him."

"The Night Mo..." Ungolim began, but was waved off by Lucien.

"Tessa is still weakened. She cannot possibly be subjected to any amount of questioning." Arms crossed, Lucien stayed between Ungolim and the now closed door.

"Fine. One week from now, she is to come to Bravil for questioning." The Bosmer ground out between clenched teeth.

"Should she be well enough to travel, I will personally escort her there." Lucien replied smoothly, a light smile tugging on his lips. It was a smile which did not reach the impenetrable brown eyes.

That night, Ungolim had left the Sanctuary not long after his confrontation with first Vicente, and then Lucien, Lucien sat in the dinning room with several of his assassin when Vicente helped Tessa through the door and into one of the many padded seats.

"I'll fetch her something to eat." Telaendril said, and hurried into the kitchen. The lithe Bosmer returned moments later with a glass of milk and fresh bread. "We'll try something more substantial if this agrees with you." She said softly once she placed the scant food in front of Tessa.

The petite Breton nodded her head in thanks, before her eyes focused onto those assembled.

"Hi." She said somewhat lamely with a faint smile tugging on her lips. She could only recognize the Imperial she had seen briefly earlier, the others stared at her expectantly, but each in his or her own manner smiling. Ocheeva reached over and patted Tessa on the arm with a wide, pointy tooth-filled smile, while Antoinetta obviously contained her own excitement. Though it was normal for the hyper Breton to hug everything in her path, Lucien noted with amusement that she cast worried glances at the somewhat sour looking vampire sitting next to the newcomer, and thought better of it. Knowing the young woman, she would corner the still frail assassin before long, and hug her to death.

"A new sister!" Gogron boomed from his place on the other side of Vicente, reaching past the vampire and gently tapped Tessa on the shoulder. He had probably meant to add something, but was quickly interrupted by a squeak from Kita, sitting next to Lucien. The second newest addition to the Sanctuary still felt her ribs protest from the hug she had received from Gogron upon her arrival a week ago, promptly putting her out of commission for at least another week.

"Be careful Gogron! I don't think she's quite ready to be beaten back into bed by a well meant pat on the back from you." Antoinetta pipped up worriedly. Telaendril turned to the still smiling Tessa, the smile having grown somewhat perplexed, and elaborated: "He had a bunny when he was little... but he petted it so hard that he broke the skull. Sometimes, he doesn't quite know his own strength." With a shake of her head she indicated that the brute needed to learn some control.

"Oh." Tessa answered, unsure what to make of those assembled around her. Vicente just shook his head mildly when she looked up at him. There was no point in seeking to understand.

"You knew our Listener?" Lucien asked, smiling slightly at the grateful look he received from Tessa. A question she could answer. Deal with her new Sanctuary mates, not so much yet. Then Lucien's words registered.

"That Fetcher is our Listener?" The expression of horror and distaste caused quite a few chuckles.

"You don't approve?" came the mild demand.

"He's... he's... an idiot." Tessa flailed around for a word, finding none truly strong enough to detail the extent of her dislike, to the general amusement of those settled around the table. "We were recruited around the same time. I had to do a mission with him once. It was a fiasco. He's incompetent." She quickly elaborated.

"That was 53 years ago." Vicente interposed with an amused smile tugging up the corners of his mouth, revealing gleaming fangs.

"He didn't strike me as having changed." This earned her a few chuckles and a smirk from Lucien. "Even Rabbit would have been a better choice than that thing."

"Rabbit?" Teinaava asked, the confusion evident in his voice. Tessa smiled and nodded, as if it there the most natural thing in the world to have someone called Rabbit in her past.

"Perhaps, you would enlighten us?" Lucien asked.

"I have a better idea." Telaendril interrupted. She turned to face Tessa with a smile. "Why don't you tell us your story?"

"From the moment I joined the brotherhood?" the Bosmer nodded. Looking around, she could see quite a few looks of approval at the idea.

"It's a long story."

"Tell it, or they'll hound you to death." Vicente told her succinctly. She closed her eyes a moment, resting her head on Vicente's shoulder.

"All of it?" she finally asked softly.

"All" he agreed. She nodded and considered her words. She knew that both he and Lucien, as she had learned he is called, would want to know not only where she had been, but also what she had done and the reason for her being there. She smiled sadly to herself, knowing that she couldn't tell them nearly enough to satisfy them. The chains which bound her prevented it. The story of her life, that she could tell. Perhaps, by the time she arrived to the end, she would have an idea on how to explain.

"How does one begin the story of one's life?" She asked somewhat rhetorically, before launching into her tale.