A/N: Obligatory apologies for the spelling and formatting fails, and obligatory The Elder Scrolls and its characters, places, items etc do not belong to me but to Bethesda.

Reviewing makes happiness, which makes Relmyna cry, so you'll get an extra portion of that specific poison to kill the Gatekeeper. By Sithis, aren't you lucky to have me?

Red would dance among the shadows sometimes, pretending they were her friends, acquaintances, a certain Imperial Speaker.

Sometimes she would talk to Jake. Apologize for killing his mistress and leaving her therefore unable to care for him. She felt very bad about that. Red Cat had always liked animals.

She'd really liked her black horse, too. Shadowmere was a little silver around the mane and required small bits of healing, but she had been a gift from Lucien Lachance, and Red had planned to cherish and keep her safe forever.

But things don't always go as planned...

Shadowmere had fled months ago. Raced back to Fort Farragut, where her beloved original master was...She had loved Red, too, but Lucien was more important.
Red Cat had wished she could join them.

But Sithis required souls, and she had to provide them. After many 'travelling mishaps' around the decrepit farm Red called prison had given Applewatch a haunted name, adventurers didn't take the path the middle-aged woman was allowed to roam. She had had to lure daedra worshippers, Legion foresters, necromancers alike to her lair like an anglerfish with shiny lights and pretty illusions. Deer merrily trotted by often, and pestering imps, but animals would not do for Sithis, oh no. Her punishment must be painted in human blood, built in human bones, composed in human screams, set afire with human souls.

The minutes, hours, days, weeks, months past. Red's hair and fingernails grew, and more silver than black showed in her ebony tresses. Lines, created by anything other than laughter, were slowly etched into her porclein skin. Her robe grew dusty and torn.

Her mind started to warp, bend...She started to go insane. And then she would remember that soon, oh so soon, Lucien would come. For one night, everything could be blissful, interesting, passionate, joyful...

And she would flop on the bed, momentarily calmed at the thought of Lucien's eyes--alive again--peering caringly at her.

Jake wonders what's wrong with me, she thought. Everything had personalities nowadays...even the daedra she conjured to kill for sport. They didn't count towarda her sentence, of course, but it was still something to do...

She wished she could dip bread in their blood, the way she and Lucien used to after a kill and they had drunk too much mead...which quickly led to other actions...

But daedra did not leave any blood behind for dipping purposes. She did not even have any bread to dip.

She didn't need to eat anymore.

So sad. Poor red tomcat, locked in a mousetrap with the mouse on the other side...
Red didn't even know what that meant, she realized with a giggle. Nothing made sense to her anymore...

So sad. Sad, crazy kitten. Waiting for her master to come and cuddle her better...
Red was looking forward to that cuddle.

So lonely. So sad. Lonely, sad Red.
Lonely, sad three more days.

Three more days until I'm allowed to finally go crazy, Red thought with another giggle, not knowing what she was talking about.

No smile in that laugh. She hadn't smiled in months. Years, maybe. Who knew? Maybe it had been years and Lucien hadn't ever stopped by. Maybe she was old.

Poor Cat.
Sad, lonely Cat.
Old and crazy Cat.
Purr, purr, bastards.
Red was still singing this mantra to herself when Shadowmere pulled up three days later, this time with a person on her back.

Red didn't hear. Didn't hear the jingle of the bridle, the creak of the leather. Didn't even hear the racing of a human heart.

In the Void, Sithis watched and wasn't sure of whether to laugh in sadistic amusement or scream in fury.

Imaginary barks of a dog clouded Red's mind. "Jake says someone's here," she said out loud, rising from her bed with a fake smile. It hurt.

What can you do? The poor woman was lonely.

Red cleaned up. Brushed her salt-and-pepper hair. Trimmed her nails and did her best to make herself presentable.

Now, why am I doing this? She wondered, completely forgetting about Lucien's long-awaited arrival. Why am I getting dressed up for a victim?

Lucien was greeted warmly with a dagger to his throat as he entered Applewatch. Blood practically carpeted the floor and hung on the walls like macabre tapestries. Every object was spotted in gore, from the glass on the windows to Jake's ancient bones: as if the wretched creature had died only minutes ago after a severe flaying.

Strong-stomached Lucien felt bile rise in his throat. Remembering said esophagus, he peered down at the Imperial woman bearing it. Graying hair, sharp lines in the skin, an unusual gleam in her eyes that had not been there when he'd left. Lucien had never seen anything so beautiful.

"Red Cat," he muttered. Red started at the sound of her name, much as she had when she'd first revived him. No one had spoken her name--no one had spoken anything, actually--besides the demons in her head for months.

Coming to her senses, she whipped the blade back into its sheath. "Oh, hello," she said with false cheeriness. "Sorry, I didn't know it was you."

Who else would she be expecting?

"Don't mind the blood ," Red called as she fixed a kettle over the fireplace. "It's just an illusion used to frighten victims, it'll pass. Tea?" Without waiting for an answer, she poured hot water into a single mug and tossed tea leaves into it.

"None for you?" The house, thankfully, had returned to normal. The only blood in sight was the colouring that flew to Red's face under Lucien's intense gaze.

"Can't eat or drink," Red said brightly. "Our Dread Father Sithis won't let me. How have you been?"

Lucien sipped his tea before answering. Years ago, he would have scolded the girl for inflicting sarcasm into Sithis' Unholy Name, but now didn't seem to be appropriate.

"I've been better," he responded carefully. "The Black Hand is rather...astonished at your lifestyle choice. As such, they try not to use my skills too often."

"My deathstyle choice," Red corrected, throwing her head back as she laughed. It wasn't forced, but it was too shrill and...maniacal to sound normal.

"How have you been, Cat?" Lucien, his tea finished, implied something else in his words, but the borderline-crazy woman didn't notice.

"Wonderfully, all things considered."
This took the man somewhat by surprise. Red had spoken so soberly and calmly that he wasn't sure if her loneliness really had had much of an effect.

"No, what am I saying?" she corrected, almost as if to herself. "I'm horrible. Lonely, sad little Cat..." She looked back up again and, ignoring his look of uncertain bafflement, attempted a lopsided smile. "I apologize. I'm not used to...dealing with...guests." She jumped up suddenly, causing a tense assassin man to nearly draw his blade. "You're out of tea! I'll get you some more." She returned to the kettle not noticing Lucien's protests, adding to herself, "Little red kitty is getting old..."

"You're not old," Lucien scoffed when she returned with a fresh mug.

"Pardon?"

"You're barely an adult. You're not old."

Red positioned herself on the other side of the table. "I'm not twenty-eight anymore, Lucien."
"Thirty-eight is nowhere near old." He tried not to think of how old that made him. He could assassinate even Mankar Cameron at any age. Still aware of his years, Lucien couldn't prevent himself from adding, "So that makes me, what? Fifty? You really shouldn't be complaining."

Red peered closer, and Lucien unconsciously shrank back under the scrutiny. "You sure didn't get any older in the Void," she finally said. "You're still in your late thirties, early forties."

She sounded the most sane she had been all night. Lucien grasped the opportunity for casual conversation before she lapsed into lonely madness again. "I still feel like a cradle robber."

It worked. "You're right," she agreed, a hesitantly teasing smile slowly twisting her mouth. "You are old. So what does that make me? A graverobb--" She broke off into laughter with only the slightest of hysterical edges. Lucien could only watch, stunned. He'd been pleased to have her joking rather normally, but he wondered if she had fallen to insanity again.

"Graverobber!" Red finally managed. "Oh, don't you see how perfect that is? By Sithis, I haven't laughed in years..."

She was fine, Lucien realized. What had the years done to her? She must have been in a depressed state after his death...a year in bloodstained solitude couldn't have helped.
It pleased him to see her eyes crinkle up in something other than sadness.

When she had finally pulled herself together and coughed the last snickers away, Red was quick to add that she was "only teasing about you being old, Speaker." Then she slid her chair closer and placed her hand over his.

"We still have plenty of hours left, Lucien," she murmured coyly. "And I haven't gone completely raving yet..."

Red had thought that one day after one--no, eleven years couldn't possibly make up for the lost time.

Lucien was quick to show her her mistake.

Sithis continued to observe from the Void.
He was not pleased.