A/N: Hiya! This is NOT my first fanfic so feel free to review however you want, flaming or no. (You can still find something to fix in a flame review) I have had this for a while but due to two years without internet I was never able to upload it. My other story is The Wolf and the Fox a Dragon Age fic. (sorry for the shameless self-promotion) Anyway this is a Lucien/ PC (but really more OC) fic but I am trying to develop the relationship realistically so don't expect smut or "I love yous" soon. Anyway thanks for checking my story out and I hope you enjoy it!
OH before I forget: The italiacs are the Nord language (or Norwegian if you feel so inclined)
Adrenalin was pumping through her like she had never known. It was a feeling one could only experience and never describe. She was dodging the branches of the trees, leaping over rocks, sliding down the hills messily in fits of laughter and joy. Turning to look over her shoulder, she saw a Legion officer and a dozen other guards in hot pursuit. She grinned as more adrenalin found its way to her muscles, she loved this feeling. The stalking, the hunting, and finally the chasing. It was something she discovered she loved at a young age after hunting in the great Pine Forest of Skyrim with her father. She made her first kill with him, a fawn of considerable size while her father took down the mother. He was proud of her, until she refused to skin it. If anything, that was the part that disgusted her the most, that mutilation of the animal. She enjoyed killing and hunting, being the one to see the last breath of a living creature, but skinning a creature was entirely different. She felt like she was wronging the dead when she did so, it didn't sit right with her stomach. But she still loved the killing, and when she was old enough she was the lone hunter in the forest killing the animals then hauling the carcass home to her family. She preferred it that way anyway. Being the one to make that final blow, being able to hold the power of life or death in her hand, she reveled in it.
And now she was running from the guards of the Imperial City because of it.
She had picked someone at random, she did not know this burly hulk of an Orc but she enjoyed hunting him. Stalking him around the city all day without being noticed. She could have easily isolated the man and slit his throat but she did not wish for this. She wanted someone else, some passerby perhaps, to see her, a 'simple-minded' bulky Nordic woman, take down the awesome Orc. She was going to revel in this kill. Deer and bears and boars were no longer satisfying to her so she went for the civilized and intelligent creatures of Nirn, anything to give her a challenge.
And she loved every moment of it.
When killing this Orc she took her dagger, a traditional Nordic huntsman dagger that was meant for the quick killing and skinning of a beast, and she snuck behind him. The steel point barely about to touch the green skin of his exposed back. Quickly the dagger bit into his skin just as he was exiting an alleyway, she dragged the blade up his spine making him howl in pain and terror. He moved to turn around but his wound prevented him from doing so. He fell to the ground writhing in pain and she moved to his chest quickly, one knee over his heart, and she slit his throat in one fluid movement, severing the main blood vessels there and silencing his screams. She looked up and found people staring at her in shock, fear, disgust, and anger. She smiled at them, her teeth a stark contrast to the blood that coated her face. She stood and sheathed her dagger and waited. Someone turned and ran towards the guards calling for help and she heard their signature heavy footfalls close in around her. But she did not live in Valenwood for ten years for nothing. She turned, sprinted, and jumped, grasping at a lamp-post and swinging herself across the street and onto the nearby archway, very much similar to the Bosmer acrobats. The soldiers gathered around at the level ground unable to follow her, giving her a few precious seconds to smile a predatory smile, which was interrupted by and arrow that gnawed its way into her shoulder. Her face became blank as the pain hit her and she ran. She then pulled herself onto the top of the archway, much to her shoulder's disdain, and ran to the adjacent building. Looking down at her bleeding shoulder she grimaced and broke most of
the arrow off, leaving only a stub of the wood and the iron tip in her flesh. Now she was the one to be hunted.
She ran ignoring the throbbing in her shoulder, her only goal to get out of the district, then the city, and then head southeast towards Leyawiin. Oh she was not done however, her thirst for blood was not yet satisfied. She would run from these fools and she would not hide in the mountains or forest. She would hide among the people, the main identifying mark on her, her blue Nordic war paint, would be gone and she would hide in plain sight in order to strike again. Such was her plan, as she jumped to the nearby roof. To her left another archer was notching an arrow and she spun to her right, grabbing onto a chimney stack and vaulting over it, against her shoulder's pleading. Leaping over roof after roof she reached the city gate and thought about impeding the guards' way but decided not to. She wanted to experience the hunt as the prey and not the hunter. So she ran into the great forest dodging the branches of the trees, leaping over rocks, sliding down the hills messily, all while her injured shoulder screamed at her in protest. She slid down a hill, the dirt hard and flying into her face. But as painful as the little projectiles of dirt were, nothing compared to the rock that jabbed into the toes of her left foot. She cried out as the rock made her trip, rolling down the hill painfully and causing her to land rather painfully on her shoulder.
"Talos damnit!" she cried after she spat out the dirt and grass that invaded her mouth in the fall. She looked at her ankle that was beginning to bruise and swell around her hunting moccasin, It was still positioned the right way, so she only sprained it, thank Talos, but it was hurt enough that when she tried to get up it screamed at her, the fiery tendrils of pain shooting through her body.
"I've found her! She is over here!" an Imperial guard of surprising bulk called out as he surveyed the scene, arms waving to his comrades. The Nord girl boasted a lean and tall frame that was fairly common for Nord women, copper braid, accompanied with startling blue eyes that one would expect from Nords. She had fierce dark blue paint that covered both of her eyes in a thick horizontal bar, her top lip coated with the same paint and a small vertical bar that ran down the center of her bottom lip. He sneered at the savage as he came closer, watching as she bit her lip in obvious pain, despite the fact that her lip had the blood of an Orc on it. He saw her hand at her shoulder attempting stem the blood flow of an arrow one of his fellows had left and he noticed a very swollen and very purple ankle under a leather moccasin. As he walked closer to the Nord woman he heard her hiss out at him in the savage language of the Nords.
"Curse you and your children you filthy swine!"
He looked at her, something nasty coiling in his gut. She was an animal-worshiping savage and a murderer, worse was the fact that she enjoyed doing that to another living being. Yet they were just going to take her to prison, why not kill her now? The punishment for murder was death anyway. Yet he walked forward anyway and she kicked at him with her unharmed foot, he jumped back in surprise and heard her shout at him in her harsh language.
"Do not touch me!"
He scoffed at her words, not understanding them and moved to pick her up and bind her wrists. She lashed out at him with long, dirt, and blood filled nails. Instead of jumping back again he grabbed her wrists roughly and wrapped them tightly with the rope from his belt. Once he was sure that she was secure he hoisted her up from the ground as his fellows came upon the scene, a few clapping him on the back in congratulations.
"Let me go!"
A darker skinned Imperial stepped next to her and backhanded her, metal gloves and all, "Quiet, savage! I will not have your foul language taint my men!" she looked back up at him, hatred and fire in her eyes. She spat on his steel boots with disgust, blood from the Orc and her own cracked lip mixing with her spit.
"Go screw yourself!"
He backhanded her again, bruises blossomed and her cheekbone began to swell painfully. She was no longer the pretty Nord from a few moments ago, now she was a heartless murderess that deserved every hit, every kick, and every insult that was thrown at her in the next five minutes. None of the other guards moved to stop their captain's actions, and most of them savored watching it.