Thank you for the follows and review!

And I suppose I should have put this on my first chapter, but here it goes now: I do not nor will I ever own the Elder Scrolls or Lucien Lachance. All original characters are my intellectual property.


It was almost comical, seeing the extreme change in emotions cross her features. Anger, pain, heartache, hope, happiness, relief? And all in such rapid succession. He lowered his blade, sheathing it without ever breaking contact with her body, never even breaking eye contact. Those pale blue, nearly white orbs had haunted him for years, that last look of desire she ever spared keeping him awake much more than he'd dare admit. Never had he imagined she'd be there again, eyes the same, face the same save several hair-thin scars, skin the same cream and roses it had always been, and her hair dark and rich mahogany. And apparently, the same temper she'd always had.

"Get your damn hands off me!" she practically hissed, pulling as hard as she could in an effort to force her release. He didn't loosen his grip, however, instead taking a wrist in each hand and thrusting them down by her side. This had the desired effect of her silence, but it was over when she slammed her forehead into his face, the force breaking his nose with a sickening and very satisfying crunch. Freed at last, she pulled her dagger, silvered, bejeweled and very obviously enchanted, from its sheath. In that brief time Lucien drew his blade as well, murmured a phrase, and disappeared. This should have scared the woman, but instead she began to laugh.

"Do you truly think that will help Lucien?" She stood still, not turning her head from side to side, not twitching. Instead that manic grin spread across her face once more. The echo of his laughter lingered in her ears.

"You don't have to boast to me, Elisif. Your eyesight is not so clever." That voice, the deep, dark timbre of it, threatened to bring her undone, memories of times long past dredged up with the merest shudder of breath from him (and how long had she sat imprisoned, imagining his voice, be it in joy or rage that he used it), but she focused. This had been too long in the making for a bit of sentimentality to get in the way.

In an attempt to humor her mark turned assassin, Elisif turned slowly, eyes skimming the ground, but Lucien was much too light of step to leave a trail in this grass, and she knew his step was almost silent, the lapping of the nearby bay covering what remained. With a shrug, Elisif stood with her legs shoulder-width apart, knees loose, arms at her side, and eyes closed, elegant face pointed to the heavens. The smile was gone. Ready to be done with this, Lucien came from behind, prepared to slice through her delicious throat-

With a twist of her torso Elisif brought the assassin down. On the ground he was, quite visible with her hands clamped to his wrists, beating one against the rocky ground until he dropped his dagger, his hand now battered and pathetic. Though slim of frame, she held him down with her weight and a quickly cast spell that increased his burden. Her legs were stretched out against his in hopes of preventing escape.

"Perhaps I couldn't see you, my love, but when have you not smelled like home to me?" she whispered, the crazed smile creeping back onto her face. "Now, how would you like me to finish this, Lucien?" Those lips that once haunted him years ago pressed lightly against the tip of his throbbing nose, eliciting a hiss from her prisoner. In her carelessness and relentless teasing, she let the spell dissapate, and Lucien slammed her on the hard ground, forcing a grunt from her chest as he clamored on top of her instead, blood steadily dripping from his nose and oozing from his injured sword hand onto her creamy skin. He easily took her small hands in one of his, holding her still with his superior strength, no spells needed, and the smile on her face faded.

"Fine, dear Lucien." she murmured, and tilted her head back, offering her neck to him. "I told you once before, if the last thing I felt was to be a murderous death, I'd have the hands I love deliver the blow." She peered back up at him, seeing his own enjoyment of the situation, her helplessness and acknowledgement of such. She had been so sure he would want to draw it out, but he brought the dagger up to her throat, the hands of a seasoned killer preparing for the fatal slice.

"Anything else, Elisif, or are you ready for the Void?" his face was pure ecstasy, the prelude to the calm of the kill, the dreadful and terminal thud of the dying heart slipping into blissful silence. He wanted to commence, but hadn't he been brought up with impeccable manners? He waited for her response patiently.

There were no tears, no trembling lips, and no fearful glances. She was calm and collected, and when she spoke, it was not what he had expected. "The Void ought to make ready for me, I think. One question though, and I hope you will answer honestly."

"Quickly then." he murmured, and she looked him dead in the eyes, no trace of mad humor left.

"Why did you become the betrayer, Lucien? In my youth and stupidity I thought we were- Even the perfect dark and silence of the Void wouldn't have kept us from knowing the other inside and out. Who else could say they understood one another so well?" His reaction was surprise, incredulity, and doubt.

"Don't spit your venom, snake." he growled, and to another it would have been menacing, to any other he had faced it would have spelled immediate death, but to her, it was nothing. "I had every reason to hunt you down for what you did, but I was young and foolish, a romantic who knew you were an innocent, that you would never feed information to our enemies. I thought you'd fled to a life in the light, that you'd ran from me. And now I'm doing what I should have done back then, your happy life be damned." Still, his hands were not so certain, his body not so forceful, and Elisif took advantage, wresting her hands free and knocking the dagger from his grip. He did not move to stop her.

"Did you think I ran away, spent my life on the beaches of the Summerset Isles?" she laughed mirthlessly and sat up, taking a reluctant hand in hers, bathing his broken skin in healing magick and later doing the same for his nose. Gingerly the blood was wiped from the assassin's face, and then an awful silence followed. He was toying again with the dagger, and she was watching him do it until finally she couldn't stand anymore.

"Come on then. I have a house nearby. We can clean up and discuss this like two ordinary citizens instead of bloodthirsty psychopaths. It sounds as though we may have been mistaken all these years." but she saw him shake his head. His gloved hand delicately brushed against her now thoroughly filthy face, dark eyes meeting pale ones. She watched him warily before guiding her hand to rest atop his own, but no sooner was the contact made than it was lost, his disarming and gentle touch turning into a vice grip on her neck. Her hands chased his, but she might as well have been trying to dismantle the White-Gold Tower for all the good it did.

The Speaker leaned close, smirking as her vision blurred. "Unless you plan to become a murderer for our Dread Father, hope that we do not meet again, Elli. I am not the fool boy you knew." With one final squeeze Lucien let her go, going invisible immediately and leaving Elisif to choke and cough and gasp by the waters of the Rumare.


Thanks for reading! Sorry if there is any OOC stuff.