Title: Mourner's Dawn

Author: Kytten

Pairing: Lucien Lachance/OMC

Rating: PG13

Disclaimer: I don't own Elder Scrolls.

Summary: Without him, they'd be nothing. Without them, he would still be alive. They should have known better. Lucien does not pick his silencers idly.

Author's Note: Ah, chapter two. Lovely, eh?


Mourner's Dawn

Chapter Two


He was Listener…

Sam wandered around the Cheydinhal sanctuary in a daze. Not a word from Arquen since they'd left the Night Mother. She was silent.

Silencer…

Did she feel guilty, he wondered, about having put an innocent man through such torture?

Silence her…

No. He doubted it. She was stupid, mindless, making her rank because of gender and slavish obedience.

Skill. Yours was skill. It was… Lucien. He saw something he liked… Don't you wonder if it wasn't only attraction and your own stupid, slavish obedience?

"Sam? Are you alright?" He looked up, stirred from his musings.

Vicente was smiling gently, a hand on his shoulder.

Vaguely, Sam wondered if Lucien would be furious the vampire hadn't stayed dead.

"Sam?" He asked again, concern painted in blood shot eyes.

"They killed Lucien." He murmured, letting the taller man lead him over to a chair before pressing a glass of heated wine into his hand.

"I've heard as much." Slowly, he eased down into the chair across from him. His own resurrection had left him sore. "Seeing as how only recently I was dead by his hand, I can't say I pity him overmuch."

Sam clenched his teeth and downed half the wine. It could have been blood for all he tasted it.

"You didn't see what they did to him."

Vicente frowned and cocked his head to the side.

"It wasn't a simple execution?"

"Simple?" He snorted and finished the lot of it in a single gulp. "They tortured him. His corpse is torn to rags."

Slender fingers played over bloodless lips as he eyed Sam warily. But he was more apt to believe this boy, rather than the new interloper who had announced herself mistress of the den.

"Arquen was under the impression Lucien's death had been clean and merciful."

"His blood soaked into the root cellar," Sam said bluntly, looking up.

"Ah…"

Silence reigned for a long moment before Vicente leaned forward to pour the elf another glass.

"I wonder if she wasn't a part of this conspiracy. She has no true cause to lie about Lachance's death. It was a mistake."

"Her mistake." He swept a hand through his hair. "Listener… Gods, I can't do this."

"There's nothing to do." Vicente smiled sadly. "You play courier for the Night Mother now, that's all."

"I could kill her."

"She's already dead."

"Arquen," Sam snapped, glaring. "And damned if Sithis would punish me."

"Simply because you've made Listener, does not give you leave to play tyrant."

It was the wrong thing to say. Sam was already close to breaking, torn in a thousand different directions.

"I shouldn't be Listener. Had Ungolim died a week sooner, Lucien would be in my place."

Vicente smiled.

"He told you, did he?"

A short, distracted nod.

"I'm surprised. I've never known him to confide in his Silencers."

"You knew his Silencers?" Sam looked up, slowly. "He told me only members of the Black Hand knew of them."

"My, he had a charmed view of the world, didn't he?" Vicente rose, laughing softly.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Only that things don't always work out as planned. I'm over three hundred years old. Do you really think I wouldn't know the inner workings of this guild?"

He watched him, waiting.

"I never questioned it when I was sent to you for orders. Only assumed you were of higher rank. But I never knew which rank." Sam paused, watching the vampire's face carefully. "You were a member of the Black Hand, weren't you?"

"Clever, child. Very clever." Vicente's smile was something tangible now. "Most never stop to think, let alone reach the right conclusion."

"Were you Listener?"

"No." He turned to look at him. "I knew better than to think I could survive such inaction. But I was, for nearly a quarter of a century, a Speaker."

"And then?"

"My disease began to eat away my appearance and so I retired, my Silencer taking my place."

"Lucien."

Uncharacteristically, Vicente grinned, and without another word, left.


The journey back to Applewatch took an eternity, even with Shadowmare galloping at full tilt. The horse was smarter than he'd first given her credit for. She knew her former master was dead, and in her way, she mourned him.

Maybe he was losing his mind. It was possible, after all. But Sam was almost sure she trusted him to fix it. Imagined confidence, perhaps, but it comforted him.

The little house was locked and deserted. No more assassins come to gawk, no more lagging members of the Black Hand. He was alone in a tiny graveyard.

Slowly, Sam dismounted and left Shadowmere to wander.

The house had begun to reek. Sam did what he could, forcing his spells through what remained of Lucien's body, undoing the rot where he found it. Only with every window and door open, did the smell begin to dissipate. But there was too much blood to really dent the smell of death.

"Lucien?" He turned and closed his eyes, trying to feel for the man's presence.

"Always so loud. It's a wonder you can sneak at all." His voice was broken, barely a whisper.

"Com'on, old man," Sam goaded. "Stay awake a little longer. You drift off and there's nothing I can do to help you."

"If I could see you, boy, I'd beat you."

Triumphant in his little victory, Sam grinned.

"Opening your eyes might help."

"Samwane." A bit of a warning note that Sam couldn't help but press.

"You know, I thought you were stronger than this," he said, grinning because Lucien couldn't see. "To be honest, I can't believe I ever served under a weak old m—"

He flew backwards a few feet, landing hard on his ass. Despite the pain, the spell was comforting in its familiarity. Lucien has always used it whenever he did something incredibly stupid. Apparently, this qualified.

He could almost see him now, the shimmering outline of his shoulders as he towered over him.

"You ungrateful little wretch! I could…" There was a pause in which he took in Sam's manic grin. "Clever, impertinent boy. Go on, then. Get what you came for."

The thought of the task at hand killed all joy.

"Where are your missing pieces?"

"They caught me coming back from the woods. I imagine the family jewels will still be in the garden." All this with a smirk Sam didn't have to see to know of. "My face found its way into the root cellar, along with a number of smaller appendages."

Slowly, feeling somewhat stuck in a cloud, Sam pulled a smaller bag from his pack and made his way to the cellar, picking through the puddles of blood and hair for the bits of flesh, then out to the garden, a mental inventory of everything Lucien had lost running through his head.

"Is this all?" He asked, holding out the bag.

But Lucien only laughed, and it was obvious he was drifting back into sleep.

"I don't know, pet. To be honest, I find I can't bring myself to care overmuch."

"You're life is on the line."

"I've always believed the dead stay dead. Do as you like."

"Lucien," he snapped, looking at where he estimated the source of the voice to be. "I'm not about to leave you be, you understand."

Laughter again, but achingly far away. And when he spoke, it was a whisper so low Sam couldn't make heads or tails of it.

But he thought… hoped it was something along the lines of, "Sometimes I wonder if I'd find you quite so intriguing, if you weren't so damned irritating."