Title: Rather Unexpected

Author: Kytten

Pairing: Lucien x OFC

Rating: T

Disclaimer: Don't own. Obviously.

Summary: Lucien wasn't expecting to find his client's body hanging from the rafters. He certainly wasn't expecting to find his mark waiting for him in the bath. And despite himself, Lucien couldn't help but be intrigued.

Author's Note: Whee! Pheonica is helping with this like wow. A great many of the ideas here are/will be hers. Because we are seriously teh awesome.

Generally, Lucien liked Bosmers. But not this one. He was a wretched little mer— shifty eyed and fidgety, blaming his wife for his own inability to keep her.

"This isn't something I trust to just anyone," he said and Lucien resisted the urge to strangle him. Strangling clients tended to be bad for business, after all.

"I assure you, it will not be a problem. One of our family will… see to her immediately."

But the elf shook his head, glancing at the door to their borrowed room in the Inn of Ill Omen.

"You don't understand."

"So inform me," Lucien smirked, leaning back. "Lovers' spats are nothing unusual."

The mer shook his head again and stood up angrily to pace the room.

"She has a harem of interesting characters, she calls them. Her little friends. I should have suspected something when—" he bit down hard on the rest of the sentence, turning to face Lucien. "She's dangerous. The worst enemy you could ever make."

Lucien shrugged, nonchalant, but found himself the slightest bit intrigued.

"She's only a woman," he said, standing. "Fragile. Her strength lies in her allies. Take those away and…" he smiled, breaking the stem of his wine glass between his fingers with a sharp snap. "It's a simple matter of pressure."

But the Bosmer only crossed his arms, looking unimpressed and more than a little concerned.

"You don't understand. I didn't expect you to. But know that it is imperative you send someone skilled. I can guarantee there will be no second chance with her."

Lucien smiled. There was something foolishly earnest in the mer's eyes. Whether his wife was truly a danger or not was unclear, but it was obvious he believed what he said. Perhaps this woman of his would prove to a challenge. Or at the very least amusing. And there was that business in Chorral he'd been avoiding for the past week.

"I sincerely doubt one Bosmer woman will pose that much of a threat."

Strangely enough, the mer laughed, sounding close to tears.

"Bosmer? If only she were, I'd not be in half so much trouble. No, she's a Dunmer, sir. A Telvanni." He sat down heavily, head in his hands. "As I said. Dangerous."

Oh, yes. Lucien would certainly be taking care of this one himself.

Two days later, when he'd finally managed a sufficient dent in his stack of paperwork and couldn't stand the thought of writing one more word, Lucien gave up. Standing, he strode away from his desk to stretch, thinking of the Telvanni contract. He sincerely doubted the woman was going to be remotely challenging, Telvanni or no. But a man could hope. Sithis knew it'd been years since he'd gotten his hands properly dirty. Everything was so… similar lately.

Sighing, he waged a quick and futile search for the ribbon he used to tie his hair, remembering belatedly he'd set it on fire an hour ago in a fit of frustration.

"Not my day," he muttered to himself, looking for another.

He knew better. Because he'd forgotten to close the grate the day before last and the guardians had gotten in. For some strange reason, they had a tendency to wander off with certain smallish things like his quills and razors… and his hair ribbons. Which didn't make any sense to him in the slightest, but as it was rather difficult to question the reanimated dead…

Lucien shook his head, trying to keep on task. Hours of paperwork always tended to make him a bit scatterbrained. Which was never the best preparation for a contract, but it was only a woman, and he very much doubted she was as bad as her Bosmer seemed to think. She'd probably threatened him with a vase. Or else one of her lovers had. Neither situation sounded as though it'd pose much of a threat.

Cursing over the fact it'd been five minutes and he still couldn't find so much as a bit of string, Lucien rifled through his chest for an old shirt and ripped off the hem. He intended to get filthy. If things were going his way, he'd even have a bit of a fight. And while he assumed it would deal mostly with the throwing of pottery, he did not want his hair in his eyes.

Smoothing down his hair in the mirror, Lucien turned and searched his desk for the contract. Which was, of course, missing. Deciding at last that he'd do just as well without it, he stalked outside and whistled for his horse.

He was early. Gadayn had mentioned that he'd be safely out of town on "business" in three days time and that if his leaving and Lucien's arrival coordinated exactly, she would be alone in the house. Any more than a few hours, he'd warned, and she'd have the house filled with her numerous pets.

Lucien paused in the street, making sure to keep his back to the wall as he looked up at the open window above him.

His mark was singing.

Not remarkably well, mind you, but singing nonetheless. Slipping his skeleton key from his pocket, Lucien grinned and strode for the door… Only to find it already unlocked.

He certainly hadn't expected that.

Lucien paused, the hairs on the back of his neck rising as he remembered what it was Gadayn had said. She was the worst enemy a man could make— dangerously clever, powerful, Telvanni. In his experience, they tended to be a rather wicked, underhanded group. Take what can be taken, claw your way to the top, don't look back sort of people.

It was possible he had not been foolish in fearing his wife.

It was also possible she had discovered what it was he'd planned and exactly what sort of business he was meeting on and had taken matters into her own hands. Lucien smiled and very slowly stepped away from the door.

He walked down the street instead, slipping into his chameleon spell as he rounded the corner before turning back into an alleyway to find if anyone had noticed the stranger's sudden disappearance.

No one at all.

Lucien grinned and ran back to the house, making his way around its boundaries, peering in through the windows. He could see nothing amiss, which meant one of two things.

One, this was a working example of a Telvanni being dangerously clever.

Or two, this was a woman who often left the door to her home unlocked without so much as a paranoid Bosmer to guard her.

Lucien, desperately wishing for a bit of amusement, prayed to Sithis this was an instance of the first and gently easing open the window, stepped inside.

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing. Not a trap, not a body or a bloodied handprint on the wall. Hell, there wasn't even so much as a broken shard of pottery. Nothing had happened here save for the fact that some insane Bosmer had sent him off to kill his wife, and Lucien, in his desperation had believed it when the mer said she was dangerous.

Angry now that he'd allowed himself to fall for such a stupid trick, Lucien stalked over to the door to see if this, at least, was trapped.

And then he remembered exactly what it was to be Telvanni, and exactly what it was he'd forgotten. Freezing in his tracks, Lucien looked up.

There, bound to the rafters of the dining room, was his client. Not a drop of blood to be found but it was obvious by the awkward angle of his head, tied by ropes as it was, that the mer's neck was broken. His hands had been frozen by frost or lingering paralysis into holding a sign. Carefully keeping his distance, Lucien crept around in a wide circle until he could just make out the words carved into the wood.

BEWARE. HERE BE DRAGONS.

Lucien grinned. This was perfect. Absolutely magnificent. More than he ever could have hoped for. Not only was he dealing with an immensely clever, heartless, calculating woman, but a woman who had recently committed a rather brilliant murder. Which meant that if even if he didn't get his fight, he was about to recruit a new murderer that would no doubt turn out to be one of their best.

Without so much as a whisper of leather on stone, Lucien crept up the stairs, following the sound of the woman's singing. The fact that she was singing, with the doors and windows of her house open, a dead body tied to her ceiling delighted him. It'd been ages since he'd found anyone like this.

Well… there had been Antoinetta, he realized with a sinking heart. Granted, he'd found her in the gutter, but her murder had been very clever as well, and she'd turned out to be insane. Great lot of good that would do him. Both of his last two recruits had been a bit off and Uvani was beginning to imply things.

Deciding that if this woman was as mad as the rest, she was about to have an unfortunate accident regardless of her skill, Lucien unlocked the door and strode inside.

He found his mark lounging in a large copper tub, covered in scented bubbles and looking entirely unimpressed with his grand entrance.

"Oh, hello," she said, sounding rather disappointed as she twirled a wet strand of dark red hair between her fingers. "You're early. I wasn't expecting you for hours yet."

"Well," Lucien smirked, eyes following the curve of her leg, arched over the lip of the tub. "Had I known I had an appointment I may have endeavored to keep it."

She rolled her eyes and picked up her book from the floor before leaning back in the water.

"Well, I don't intend on finishing for an hour yet, so you'll simply have to wait."

"Really?" he cocked his head to the side, arching a perfect brow as he stared her in the eyes. "I think you'll change your mind when you hear what it is I have to propose."

But the fetching Dunmer didn't even have the grace to look interested. She pursed her lips and waved him off, frowning out the window as though she were expecting someone else.

"Don't bother wasting your time, sweetheart," she said without so much as a glance his way.

Lucien kept his face neutral, though inside his thoughts were flying. A beautiful, immensely clever, heartless, and calculating woman was exactly what he needed to show up that idiot Uvani. He had to have her. But what did one say to convince such a woman when it was obvious she couldn't care less

"Waiting for someone?"

"Yes and no," she said at last, frowning. "Are you the man Gadayn hired to kill me?"

Lucien smiled.

"I am. But seeing as how you've already taken care of my… employer, allow me to extend to you my invitation."

"Oh, bugger all!" she snapped suddenly, throwing down her book and standing up. "I wanted the Dunmer."

And Lucien had never been more depressed upon seeing a dripping, naked, succubus of a woman.

Damn Uvani…