Wow, thanks everyone! I got a lot more reviews than I was expecting, to be honest. I'm glad none of you seem to mind slash, which is odd, given I don't recall ever seeing two men together in the game itself (but I suppose if it didn't stop me from writing slash, it's not going to stop you from reading it). Anyway, enjoy chapter two!
Chapter Two
Some time later, when the air was still black with night, and Lucien was really lamenting the lack of readily-available wine, he was still trying to comprehend the situation.
"So... you bound yourself to the Staff of Worms."
"I bound the Staff to me," Caelan corrected insistently, "I was trying to make it conjurable, like bounds weapons or armour. That way I could just summon it instead of lugging it about everywhere – and really, it's not the most attractive-looking thing in the world-"
"In any case," Lucien interrupted, holding up a hand to silence the talkative mer, "The ritual went wrong, and the Staff disappeared completely."
"Yes. I thought I could do it, since I'm good at Conjuration – and I do mean really quite good-" at the look he received, he quickly returned to the subject, "But I seem to have... overbound the Staff, as it were. It's a part of me now, as are its effects."
"Very well... how do you un-bind yourself?"
"I've been reading up on that," Caelan waved towards the endless stacks of books, "And... well, I don't think I can. Most bound items disappear after a certain amount of time, but this... doesn't. It's permanent."
Lucien shook his head resolutely, "It can't be. There is a way to undo every curse and spell gone awry."
"You're welcome to try. And, you being from the Dark Brotherhood, I was hoping you wouldn't give up until I was truly dead."
Lucien frowned; "But that's what I still don't understand – you want to die? Most would give up everything and anything to obtain what is, in effect, invincibility."
Something flitted across Caelan's face for a moment; sadness, perhaps, but it was gone before Lucien could register it, "Being unable to die... it's really not as lucrative as it sounds."
He didn't offer a further explanation, and Lucien didn't ask for one. There was silence for a few more minutes, until the assassin came to his decision:
"I suppose," he said getting up, "That until I can figure out just how to kill you, I'll have to take you with me. I'd rather not have to keep visiting here every time I come up with a new plan."
"I have to leave? Why don't you just stay here?"
"Because firstly, all my resources are at my home. Secondly, you barely have enough room for yourself, let alone another person. And thirdly, the Imperial City is not a place I willingly spend my free time," too many people, too many guards. Being an Imperial himself, perhaps he should have been proud that the city watch was so vigilant, but he considered them more of an annoyance than anything else.
"Very well," Caelan also stood up, looking wistfully at all the books he would never be able to take with him, "I suppose all these will have to be taken back to the University Archives..."
Lucien raised an eyebrow; "You stole all these? From the Arcane University?"
"Yes, well... I'm rather good at stealing things. It's become something of a hobby, to be honest."
"It's unusual, though. I haven't met many Altmer thieves."
Caelan looked surprisingly peeved: "I'm half Altmer, I shall have you know. Just because I look like one doesn't mean I'm like all the others."
"I was merely commenting," Lucien responded coolly, ending any argument before it could begin, "And in regards to your books, we don't have time to return them all. Sell them off and be done with it. You could probably make a small fortune in the process."
The mer winced, "Sell them? What if I need them again in future?"
"Ah," that explained why he didn't make his living as a thief, "You like to hoard things."
"'Collect' is a much more pleasant term. But... yes. I did join the Thieves Guild, briefly, but didn't make too much money from it. Besides..." he scratched the back of his head sheepishly, "I got kicked out. For, ah, stealing off another member."
Hm. I had best keep an eye on my belongings. "Then leave the books here if you don't want to sell them. The Mages Guild may find and reclaim them anyway," he glanced around the place – as far as he could tell, Caelan had no other belongings, which meant no need to pack, "Very well, let's go."
"Wait!" When Lucien turned, an eyebrow raised, the boy looked suddenly fidgety, "... You haven't told me your name yet. I mean, I think I should know," he finished lamely.
It wasn't the first time, Lucien could recall, that a mark had asked his name. If they angrily demanded it, he never complied, and visited a quick death thereafter. But to those few who had already accepted their fate, that asked in that quiet, serene way, he would answer. Caelan, he supposed, fell into the second category.
"Lucien Lachance."
Lucien's home was quiet and well-kept, if a little sparsely furnished for Caelan's tastes. It was also rather cold, but he supposed he couldn't really complain, since Lucien had been generous enough to let him stay here.
Well... not really, since Caelan hadn't exactly been given a choice in the matter, but he could have been thrown in a cell like a prisoner. The hospitality only extended so far, however; there was only one bed in the place, and Lucien had made it clear he wasn't about to give it up. Without so much as a spare bedroll lying about, Caelan had a choice of the floor, or the floor.
Could be worse. Could be damp.
It's uncomfortable, though.
Could be Echo cave. Now that was damp. You needed a water breathing spell to get anywhere.
But it's really, really quite uncomfortable.
After a few more failed attempts at looking on the bright side, he sighed and sat up, shoulders still aching from the flagstone floor. If he couldn't get to sleep, he would just have to tire himself with a walk. And he needed to map his way around Fort Farragut anyway.
The layout, he soon discovered, was simple enough, but so well-guarded that no uninvited guest would be able to reach Lucien. It was also riddled with traps, almost all of which Caelan unwittingly set off. After being caught in a fleet of arrows for approximately the fourth time, he gave up on the notion of a tranquil, soul-soothing stroll and decided to just go back to the central chamber.
Lucien was still asleep when he got back, rhythmic breathing filling the otherwise silent air. Even assassins needed to sleep, he supposed, although it was strange to see Lucien so... well, he couldn't really use the term 'peaceful'; even in rest, the man was oddly tense, his dagger still at his hip and ready to be used.
Hm... that was a rather nice dagger actually...
Oh, I really shouldn't... Thieving was like good chocolate, and just as hard to resist, Go on then. Just this once.
He advanced as silently as he could, glancing at Lucien to make sure he was still asleep. His fingertips glided over the cool metal of the handle, observing the tell-tale hum of enchantment, the delicious power residing within. Loosely grasping the dagger, he began to carefully ease it from its sheath-
One hand immediately snapped around his wrist, making him let go of the weapon. Before he could react, a second hand clamped mercilessly around his throat.
"Don't," Lucien's voice was pure ice, "Steal from me."
Fingers scrabbled uselessly against the grip on his throat, and it was only when Lucien slackened his hold that Caelan could gasp: "D-didn't know you were awake."
"I woke up after you set off the first trap. That's why they're there," came the cold reply, "Did you really think you could snoop around my home and then attempt to pickpocket me without me noticing?"
Oddly enough, Caelan abandoned all fear in favour of a thoughtful expression; "I don't know... I managed to steal off Mannimarco-"
"And look where it got you," Lucien tightened his grip again, just to bring that fear back – because people were supposed to be afraid of him, and it annoyed him that Caelan clearly wasn't, "Now be sensible for once, and don't try anything like that again. You will sorely regret it if you do. Understood?"
"Understood," Caelan wheezed, incapable of anything more by now. Shoving him off the bed, Lucien watched dispassionately as the mer coughed and spluttered for air, his throat darkened by bruises. He'd evidently done more damage than he thought, since Caelan eventually stopped moving, that perfect stillness that could only belong to a dead man.
And when he shuddered to life half a minute later, the bruises were gone.
Snap.
"Ow."
Snap.
"Ow."
Snap.
"Ow."
"Hush," Lucien scolded, moving onto the boy's ribs, which cracked easily under his careful application of pressure. He had been systematically breaking the bones all morning, under the reasoning that if Caelan was damaged enough, the Staff would not be able to fix all his injuries at once. So far he had been unsuccessful, because every time Caelan's body decided to give up and die – which seemed to happen quite easily – everything was healed.
The mer obediently stayed quiet. Most would be shrieking in agony at this point, but it seemed that he had died so many times by now that he was simply accustomed to the pain. It was pleasantly refreshing, actually, to hear the satisfying crunch of bone, unhindered by tortured screaming.
"Do you suppose," Caelan asked suddenly, quite out of the blue, "That mudcrabs realise how weak they are?"
Lucien stopped, and just looked at him. Allowing his handiwork to come undone in the process, but a question like that warranted an incredulous pause; "Why do you ask?"
A shrug, "Just curious."
"I meant," he thought to pinch the bridge of his nose in exasperation, but resisted the urge, "How did you arrive at this particular query?"
"Oh – well – it's just – you're breaking everything with relative ease," Caelan explained somewhat sheepishly, "Like a mudcrab. They break apart with just one hit. So then I wondered if... well, you know."
"One would assume you'd be concentrating on what's happening to you. Speaking of which..." Lucien took hold of Caelan's wrist, and snapped it like a twig, "Altmer bones are more fragile than most. That's why I can break them so easily."
"I'm half Altmer," Caelan insisted, before continuing in a contemplative tone, "So... do you think they know? Mudcrabs, that is. I mean, I'm not sure if they think about anything at all, to be honest-"
"They don't," Lucien interrupted calmly, resuming his work, although most of the breakages had been healed by now, "Because if they were smart enough to realise their own weakness, they would be smart enough not to bother me when I choose to go for a lakeside walk."
"I suppose," Caelan nodded thoughtfully, "Since they always pick a fight, even though they lose every time."
There was a pause, quiet save for the sound of fingers being broken, and the sharp inhalation as Caelan briefly died, before being restored again.
"Lucien," he said, watching his mangled hand instantly repair itself, "I don't think it's working."
"No," Lucien agreed, starting again with the mer's shoulder, which he dislocated with a resounding pop, "But I'm enjoying myself."