Bellamont's plot for revenge gets complicated when a mage by the name of Arabella hankers after Lucien Lachance.
Disclaimer: I do not own Oblivion and its characters.
Chapter One
Arabella's long white fingers reach out hesitantly before stopping short of the pale cheeks of the Imperial who is sleeping soundly. It is the first night that she observes him enjoying trouble-free slumber. She feels fatigued, an after-effect of abusing the invisibility spell and lack of sleep for the past ten days. She knows she should stop this madness at once. He will be the death of her if she cannot free herself from this unhealthy obsession. She needs to get her attention back to the Speaker of Anvil, to ensure that he will not make any stupid moves in his eagerness to avenge his mother's death. He is quite insane despite his intelligence. She thinks with a frown, being doubtful of the wisdom in the alliance between the unstable Breton and the Imperial Legion. She cannot, however, resist the temptation to have another close look at the face of a man who has been distracting her from her job. She doesn't want to waist the moonlight that floods through the narrow window. It pleasingly shines over an angular face, fine nose and sensual lips.
Such a beautiful face for a killer. But it is not his clean, chiselled features that fascinate her. It is the characteristics that he has developed for himself, so unlike any other Imperial. He moves with a grace that a Khajiit would envy. His magical ability is the highest among the Black Hand, surpassing even that of Arquen. The impassive look he presents to the world convinces her that he does not share the common weakness of a male Imperial. He has abundance of will power in his lithe frame. It is such a shame that Bellamont is so good at what he is doing. Her heart sinks at the thought of the fate that awaits him. She has heard how the Dark Brotherhood treats its traitors. This fight Lucien cannot win because he is devoted to the guild while Bellamont possesses no such weakness. She sighs and decides to turn away from the peaceful sleeping form. She will have to get some rest herself.
A soft, low laughter fills the air, interrupting her plan to depart the creepy Fort which Lucien transformed into his own sanctuary.
"Leaving so soon?"
"Ah, the sleeping beauty is finally awake," she replies calmly, even as she realises with grimace that she is paralysed below her head. So, he wants to talk. She curses herself silently for having been caught out carelessly, but will not show her apprehension.
Penetrating eyes scan over her form. With her clear, milky skin and well-defined features, she is pleasing to look at. Long black eyelashes and shoulder-length curly locks create an impression of softness about her. An Imperial with a hint of Breton heritage. He observes.
"The beauty was never asleep," he replies smilingly. "You are obviously a mage of high calibre, but have lately abused your magicka to a considerable degree. And all that to follow me around like a lost puppy."
"You knew I was following you. How?" Arabella's eyes widen in surprise. No one has ever sensed her presence during the period of the invisibility spell. She is not an average mage. Then again, he is not an average assassin.
"As much as I would like to continue our small talk, I know you are probably working on wearing off the spell you are trapped in even as we speak. I had to patiently wait for ten long days before meeting you face-to-face. What interest does the mage guild take in the business of the Dark Brotherhood?"
"You set up a trap for me. You waited till I became weak," she reflects dismally.
A cold blade lightly touches her throat. The eyes that stare into hers are dark and dangerous. "I would appreciate it if you just answer my questions. There will be time for friendly chats later if you do not cross me."
"Would you believe me, had I told you that I followed you around out of curiosity? An Imperial that reaches the core of any association, even that of assassins, impresses me." Arabella settles for the closest truth. Lucien shakes his head and murmurs reflectively, "You are not lying, but you have not answered my question."
He smiles slightly, his eyes still precariously cold despite a glimpse of amusement, before continuing. "I will have to rephrase it. Why did the mage faction send you to spy on us?"
Arabella tries her best smile and finds it disheartening that he does not smile back. Her smile, however, produces a brief reward. Cold lips brush lightly on her ear lobe. "Speak." An involuntary sigh, an expression of inappropriate longing, escapes her lips, even as she knows her life is in mortal danger. The corner of his lips curls up slightly, the only indication to show his understanding that he has a hold over her heart.
"The Dark Brotherhood is renowned for making powerful enemies. It is, however, not the mage guild you need to worry about. The association appreciates the usefulness of your reckless organisation in keeping Morag Tong on check. They have not sent me. I am a freelancer."
"Much better," Lucien says approvingly, his eyes softening ever so slightly. He begins to like the girl, rather respects her. He cannot detect any fear in her eyes. "Now, who is your client?"
"You think I will dishonour my contract?"
The answer is not unexpected. He smiles at her, almost warmly. His gaze, nevertheless, soon turns hard. He has a job to do. She may just provide a solution to the recent troubles that have been plaguing the Brotherhood and threatening his position as a revered Speaker.
"You look as though you could do with sleep."
His voice is unbearably soft, caressing her tired body. Drowsiness follows and begins to spread inside, beckoning her into giving up her fight to stay awake. There is a tingling sensation in her finger tips. Her body is slowly recovering from the self-inflicted misuse of her magical energy. Soon, she should be able to break the paralysis spell, if only she could resist falling asleep. It is, however, not her willpower but his words that prevent her from losing consciousness.
"I wonder how your client will take the news that you have been captured by the enemy he seeks to destroy. I will let the Black Hand decide your fate."
Panic strikes her hard, and she fails miserably in her attempt to keep her voice steady. She needs to convince him and fast. She winces at the tone of desperation in her protest. "No, you cannot do that."
"Go on," he whispers lovingly. "Make a proposal that could tempt me. Your life depends on it."
Her eyelids start to feel heavy once again. Time is running out for her.
"Name your price," she says resignedly. The battle is lost, and the irony is that she is better off for it.
"Your undivided loyalty … to me."
"Free me from my contract. I will serve you with my life. Not Sithis, Not your Unholy Matron, and Not the Brotherhood. Just you."
Lucien holds her chin with his palm and regards her silently. There is a clear sense of relief in her sleepy eyes. She will be reliable.
"Give me your name," he says, unceremoniously releasing her from the spell that rendered her immobile.
"Arabella Esposto," she murmurs dreamily, before collapsing into his arms.
He lays her on his bed. He needs her to be strong once again, and for that, he will let her sleep where she lay.