Lucien carefully climbed out from the cellar; after his usual scan for guards he gestured for Malkhai to follow when it was confirmed that the alley was clear.
"Let's go to the Sanctuary. It will put me at ease to know everyone is settled well."
"Same. Though no shortcut- it would be easier and safer for you to go through the 'Door of Doom'."
Malkhai took Lucien by the arm as they walked to the Abandoned House, which was just across the east bridge. Again she wondered why it was necessary for her to do so when he was not having trouble walking. He broke his hand; not his foot, his knee, or anything else that would cause him to limp. Perhaps, then, it was for comfort. It was a single gesture that declared: "Hey, I'm here for you. I will always be here for you when you are in need. You can depend on me."
When they arrived at the Sanctuary they immediately knew where the Family was. They could hear the drunken laughter from the living quarters.
"You really don't need to hold onto my arm." Lucien humbly purred to the dunmer before they entered the resting area. "I think I'll be alright. But thank you... Dear Sister."
Malkhai winked with a warm smile before she turned away to join the group at the table. Not even a glance was given to Gogron; she would forgive him, but not that night. His foolish behavior should not be so easily pardoned, at least as far as she was concerned.
"Brothers and Sisters!" Lucien called out from the doorway. Everyone immediately froze in place to acknowledge the Speaker. "I see that everyone is here, so I assume there were no further casualties within the short distance you were left alone."
Everyone either shook their heads or mumbled something to the effect of 'no'.
"Alright... well I received word that the storm is going to brutally punish the land for a long time... including the roads. Any out-of-town trips will have to be put on hold for a while; as you well know the area already suffered severe mudslides... there will be plenty more to follow in the next week or so."
"That's good news for you, Lucien." Vicente commented.
"Yes I know. I'll admit I see a silver lining in all of this. The rest of you should too, unless your contracts require you to take out someone in this city. Otherwise, until the hellish storm subsides, everyone should take this opportunity to rest up from all the weeks of our travels. I will be at the fort unt..."
"Wait, you're going back to Farragut? Is that safe for you, Speaker?"
Lucien considered his words, but locked eyes onto Malkhai's. It was uncanny the way certain facial expressions could speak as well as the tongue; hers told him: "You need to rest... rest well somewhere comfortable, safe, and free of bothersome ruckus that the Sanctuary is often plagued with. I will provide it for you... you are welcome into my home."
"I will be fine. That fort has survived thousands of years and thousands of storms like this." He was still staring at Malkhai with the entrancing brown eyes that caught the candlelight. "I will take my leave now. Rest well." He bowed reverently before departing.
"I suppose I better go back to the house." Malkhai followed with a stretch. "I'm anxious to get that fireplace going and curl up with a good book. Which reminds me, I'm done borrowing The Lusty Argonian Maid, Ocheeva; I'll return it tomorrow."
"Wha...what are you talking about, that's not my book." Ocheeva stuttered with nervous eyes looking down at the stone floor.
"No. Of course not. My mistake." Malkhai snickered. "See you all when I see you. I'm going to sleep for three straight days."
No one in the Sanctuary was fully convinced that Malkhai and Lucien were going to separate homes, or that either of them were only going to sleep. They all exchanged suspecting grins, barely able to contain the laughter and remarks they wanted to make about the two.
Malkhai's feet splashed through the pathways littered with puddles. The rain was cold, but it washed away all the gritty mud and sweat that layered up on skin and clothes. She believed that there was something waiting at the front door of her home and approached with her heart beating in her stomach. Her pace was slow and somewhat reluctant, until a healthy streak of lightning branched out through the sky.
"Oh d'r lord! Aagh!" Malkhai cried out, immediately quickening her pace over the bridge and to the west wall. The salty sweat that the rain washed down into her eyes blurred her vision, but she had lived in Cheydinhal long enough to navigate through it blindfolded.
Finally she was at the doorstep of her own house; a long week of relaxation awaited her inside. But before she entered she scanned the area, hoping to see what she anticipated... somewhere.
There was nothing but the steady, droning sound of the rain beating down on the rooftops and terrain. Everyone retreated to the indoors, except for the unfortunate guards that had to be at their posts no matter what.
Guess I really will be seeing you later, LaChance. The dunmer gloomed.
"Mal." She heard a familiar voice speak just before she entered. "Lu." Mal replied, gratefully spinning around. Brightness returned to her face.
"You wanted to talk about the Roxey... right?" He had a warm, yet sinister light in his eyes as he approached.
"Y... yeah um... whe-." The sensuous aura she picked up from him gave her trembles all over, including her lips.
"Let's talk, then."
His right arm hooked around Malkhai's waist as he pulled her to him with the same eagerness he displayed before, lavishing her lips with kisses of sincere love and want. It was expected, yet when it happened it still drained strength from her legs. To gesture that she welcomed this she wrapped her arms around his neck and returned his kisses. He stood a few inches taller than her, so she had to stand on the tips of her toes to meet his height.
But then Lucien fixed that problem for her. One free arm was all he needed to lift the lightweight dunmer off her feet and wedge her between his body and the wooden doors. Such sudden and vigorous movements were almost as frightening as it was intoxicating. Their faces were level with each other; all the better to see the eyes that practically demanded him to continue.
Indeed... Speak to me. Talk to me all night. Malkhai's mind and body screamed.
One by one articles of clothing fell to the ground once the door closed behind them. Lucien struggled with his left sleeve, but once it was carefully pulled over his hand they returned to the intense entanglement. Malkhai had almost forgotten that he was impaired the way he effortlessly moved her around using one arm.
When their wild tango finally migrated to the bed, Lucien proceeded to take her... and a storm as sounding and turbulent as the one outside commenced...
...howling wind, rumbling thunder, and a torrential downpour.
And then... stillness took back the night. Not even a voice interrupted it. Words were not needed to speak of what took place in that house and how happy their togetherness brought them. The last thing they saw before a deep sleep arrested them was gratefulness glistening in weary eyes.
A lazy Sundas morning came. The sun strained to break through the overcast skies with little avail. Every few minutes a blast of wind hit the side of the house, causing the glass of the windows to rattle. Teaming with the cold seeping in through small cracks it gently pulled the Speaker out of his heavy sleep.
"Nrrgh." He groaned when the pain in his hand woke with him.
Gently sliding out from under the limp arm of his love as she remained undisturbed in her dreamworld, he made his way over to the small kitchen down the hallway with light steps. As a practicing alchemist he knew exactly what to look for in the cabinet.
Honeyvine- yes.I knew I saw it in here. He thought.
Something disturbed him as he helped himself to one of the jars. It sent a tingle through his body, alerting him to a third presence in the house. The steady flow of cold air slithering about had a sudden change of speed and direction.
Someone opened the front door.
They would brave this weather?
...
Of course they would... if it was important.
After checking the bedroom to make sure no one but Malkhai was inside, he searched the rest of the house, keeping his senses open to the slightest change in the premise. The intruder could be invisible.
"How's the hand, LaChance?" The startled imperial swung around and snapped instinctively into a defensive stance. But he knew who that voice belonged to once it registered in his mind, and then he loosened his rigid posture.
"Levik?"
"Correct."
Levik Rofelle was a messenger of the Black Hand, assigned to carry out his tasks in the northeastern section of Cyrodiil. He was generally a polite and well-respected dunmer, much like LaChance, but his suspicious entrance into Malkhai's home did not inspire a warm greeting.
"I see that despite that little accident you had, you are making yourself more than comfortable here in Cheydinhal." Levik sneered with a crooked grin, pointing to the bedroom with his eyes. "Lucky for you it is not unlawful."
A considerable amount of weight lifted from Lucien's chest. If anyone was a reliable source of accurate information it would be Levik since he was such an avid history buff. He would be the one that would actually read and remember the Black Hand's complete list of laws.
"But you do understand that lawful or not there will be consequences. You are the head of the Cheydinhal Sanctuary, and within that group of family members there are bound to be a few that will give her trouble for this. Do you know why?"
"I think so... but go on anyway." Lucien straightened up and continued eating the honeyvine.
"Whether it is her intention or not, she will be suspected of trying to gain favoritism from you... and don't kid yourself LaChance, she will have a higher place in your eyes and you will give her more pardon than the others... because you already have."
"Levik, you didn't come all the way out from Bravil to lecture me on how I should handle my personal life. You came here for a more important reason, what is it?"
"Yes, you are right. I am here to deliver a message to you... but we're still on the subject of Ms. Ale'Zandre."
Up until that moment Lucien's eyes were focused on the silver knife that he used to strip off pieces of the honeyvine, which was like slicing through an uncooked potato. They shot a fiery glare at Levik.
"You do realize that the traitor is still among us."
"Not her." He was quick to deny. "This all began long before she was a fresh initiate. Tell Belis he needs to check the records again with his glasses on."
"Yes, but the traitor may not be working alone. The inc-"
They froze when they heard faint moaning upstairs. "-outside."
Lucien nodded and followed the messenger through the door, not particularly keen about leaving the comforts of the house to stand in the rain for goodness knows how long it had to take for Levik to finish up. But there was at least a small roof that hung over the front door; it kept most of the rain off of them, but the cruel winds would throw a light spray at them now and then.
"The increased rate of deaths suggest there is now a second. Think you can guess the approximate time that the rate increased?"
Lucien dropped a heavy sigh onto the ground. "After she joined?"
Levik nodded. "It is unlikely... but not impossible, LaChance. Do you truly know this elf? Where was she before the arena?"
"She was imprisoned."
"And what was she in prison for?"
"Sh...she..." It clicked- Lucien understood the comparison Levik was making and it unnerved him. "...she wouldn't just stand and let... them..."
"Having trouble getting the words out? I thought you broke your hand, not your jaw." Levik enjoyed drilling into LaChance. "You know it... she betrayed her superiors. She not only disobeyed orders, she killed a Chief Soldier of the Imperial Legion."
"And how much do you know about that, Levik? Do you not know the circumstances that pressured her into making that decision?"
"I know. But 'why' is not important in this matter- it's the fact that she did. She is an unpredictable free-spirit, eager to take control when given the opportunity. She doesn't think at all about the Night Mother; she doesn't even believe She exists. She thinks only about reward and not the passion for pleasing Mother or Father. And... adverse feelings toward her Brothers and Sisters are blooming..."
"How are you learning all of this?"
"Please tell me you are joking! Agh... there must really be such a thing as fuck'n yer brains out'! Mother knows everything... Mother tells our Listener everything. At least what's important for us to know. She knows Malkhai- everything she ever was, everything she ever did, everything she talks or thinks about outside the chapels."
Mother knows so much about our newest member... yet seems to know nothing about the traitor. I wish I could speak to her myself to get the answers for that. Lucien thought.
"It is highly unlikely, Levik." The imperial insisted.
"Y's, y's... I am not confirming that she is the traitor I am simply saying... that while you remain in Cheydinhal throughout the time that you need to heal... be observant. Pay attention to where she goes, how she acts- look for clues in this house... catch signs of treachery that she might throw off. And, I really don't think I need to say this, but... do not mention our little chat to her at all. We will know if you do... because Mother always knows."
"Alright. But I don't believe that-"
"The Black Hand does not care about opinions based on the gushy-mushy feelings. We need opinions based on hard-cold facts. I will now part. Sithis be with you."
No further word, or even a nod, was given to the messenger before Lucien turned back into the house. He crawled back into bed, disrupting the elf a little when she felt the mattress sink in the middle. In stiff, slow movements she stretched out and put her arm back on his chest.
Lucien closed his eyes, but because Levik gave him something to ponder he did not sleep. Instead he meditated on the issue with the traitor.
I don't want to agree with them... but I can't blame them for not ruling even you out. We've always been a cautious group. But... you can't be the accomplice. You can't.
I... hope you are not. Because... if you are...so help me...
He breathed another heavy sigh on Malkhai's neck as he brushed it with lips. You are not! No!
However, accomplice or not, her life was in danger for simply being a suspect. He wanted to keep her protected, but he knew what it meant for him if he dared to defy the will of the Night Mother. For the first time in his entire life there was an inclination to put someone above even Sithis. So if it turned out that she betrayed her new family... nothing could strike his heart with a crueler blade.
The dreading thoughts melted away when he noticed Malkhai groggily waking up. With his signature cunning grin and soft voice he spoke onto her neck. "You sleep rather soundly for a Murderer."
His corny joke earned him a whispery chuckle from Malkhai as she burried her face between his chin and chest.
"Goodness. That's quite an impressive puddle there."
"Yeah? Well that's your fault y'know."
"I...eheh...I was... talking about your drooling, Mal."
"OH! Ha. Oh yes... I'm a drooler. Sorry- I'll try to keep it on my side." Malkhai's hand glided down from his shoulder, then like a careful surgeon, held the hand it belonged to up for a close inspection. "How's the hand?"
"As long as I don't think about it too much and I keep eating the honeyvine... it's not too bad."
"Good." The elf returned his hand to where it was resting on his hip, never-minding the fact he raided her cabinet. "Aren't you glad, at least, that it wasn't your right hand?"
"Well..." His wicked grin stretched out. "...I could still ask for assistance."
Malkhai snorted.
"I'm gonna...geeerrgaaargHH!" Malkhai sat up with another long stretch to the ceiling, making things crack and pop all over. "...hell with it, I'm goin' back t'sleep." With a audible thump, the back of her head hit the goosefeather pillow. "Sounds like fun. I'll do the same."
Lucien gathered all the elf that he could in his arms, in the manner that his mind wanted to embrace all belief that she was not the betrayer. Malkhai, completely oblivious to the assault Levik's word of caution had on his mind, chuckled again when the fuzz on his chest tickled her face. After an hour or so he would completely dismiss Levik's words, at least for the moment. Instead he dipped into a more pleasant pool of contemplations. As anyone fresh in a relationship would, he began to wonder where it all started- when exactly did they fall in love?
But one does not simply fall into love, at least not the kind that anyone can hope would last. It is a gradual incline from a solid friendship. Love, which should never be confused with physical attraction, is mutual loyalty, companionship, and devotion. It is probably safe to say that the love began the very moment they both realized that they were dedicated to support and sustain each other through what ever hell or heaven threw at them.
The willingness to self-sacrifice is a part of love as well... but that is another story.