A.N. So here goes the final chapter for my version of this crazy pairing. :)
Lucien has yet to know his enemy's face. He will not recognize the voice of the traitor as such, even if they come face-to-face. He can, however, hear the venomous hiss that is like creeping bugs, hungry and persistent: "I will have you kneeling before me."
Knowing that someone tried and nearly succeeded in framing him for the one deed he will not excuse is bad enough. Being unable to act, with no prospect of successful retaliation in sight, is worse, much worse. The sense of powerlessness gnaws at him, and the jeer that taunts him grows louder each day. But Lucien knows that his enemy must also be becoming impatient and restless, and that is a comfort enough to keep him focused on daily business.
The waiting game continues, and when he at last hears something other than the list of clients from Ungolim, he can sense its end nearing: the traitor has struck again. Arquen, the Listener's Silencer, and Bellamont, Banus' Silencer, both have gone missing. And the living, whoever that may be, is declared to be the assassin among assassins.
Regrettable, but a necessary blow to urge the Black Hand into decisive action. Not quite so, according to Ungolim. There is no need to panic, he writes. Business must go on as usual, since his new Silencer is perfectly capable of defeating the conspirator. When Lucien realises just exactly whom Ungolim has appointed as Arquen's successor, he merely laughs, hollow, bitter and void of mirth. The Black Hand is doomed, but at least he is finally free to act, in between visiting clients and spilling the blood they demand in exchange for gold.
The parting scene is disappointingly lacking in drama. She seems more upset at Lucien's lack of emotion than at the prospect of leaving his service, since she can see that she is climbing up the ladder and fast. His talks of duty and the glory of Sithis do little to excite her. But she believes in destiny and her own talents and figures that the position of Speaker isn't that hard to achieve. Once there, he will have no option but to pay more attention to her. As his lips graze her forehead, a command to leave, she is convinced that they will soon meet as equals.
The trap door is once again securely shut above him, leaving him to contemplate his next move in comforting silence. Or what was once comforting silence; it is still familiar, but there is no peace in it. What would he not give to hear that smooth, velvety voice again?
It is not a silky voice but a distinct neigh of a horse that answers him. Lucien finds Shadowmere standing proud in the courtyard, with a rather frightened Bosmer boy on the ground a few feet away from the black beauty.
"Are you the owner of this … horse?" The mer asks wearily and decides that the answer is yes when a cold, calculating gaze falls upon him. With fumbling fingers, he produces a sealed envelope from his sack. "I was told to deliver this to you."
As the messenger limps away, a few septims richer, Lucien breaks the seal and finds a letter written in elegant, flowing handwriting.
A boy has grown into a man, still weeping for his Mother. He will not know peace till his Mother stops talking to him. In the cellar of the Anvil lighthouse, there is something that you need to see.
We are all puppets of Fate till a string is cut loose. The show still goes on, but it is not too late to rewrite the end of the play.
Five days and five fulfilled contracts later, Lucien finds himself in Bellamont's former hideout. And in that place of madness and despair, he finds what he has come for. A leather-bound book written with cold hatred and blood lies next to a decayed head.
The obsession that has filled each and every page is thick and suffocating, a soundless scream that has hatched and fuelled a daring scheme against the Dark Brotherhood and Lucien himself. There has been always something unsettlingly personal in his enemy's campaign, and the Imperial at last understands why it is he who has been thus targeted.
Having stuffed the evidence of conspiracy into his bag, the Imperial decides to head straight to Bravil. The Hand needs to know exactly which face they are looking for. As he exits the living, breathing tomb, however, a familiar robed figure greets him, with an odd mixture of nervous apprehension and relief. The Black Hand has been trying to reach him. Or rather they have been frantically trying to reach each other.
Ungolim has fallen at the hands of the traitor, and his newly appointed Silencer, with all her promises and blessings of the Night Mother, never even made it to Bravil.
How things change and quickly. Lucien feels many things as Banus fills him in with the latest events, but grief is not one of them.
There is an emergency meeting set up in Skingrad, and the long-forgotten Brotherly love and solidarity once again graces the air. They are the survivors and determined not to suffer another loss. Armed with the proof of treachery, Lucien tells them his plan and for once his Brothers listen with due respect and willingness to co-operate.
"I am to be the bait, and you will be the hunters."
And so, in the depth of Fort Farragut, in one of the many uninhabitable cells, Bellamont meets his pitiful end. Peace is finally granted upon him, but the hollow holes that were once eyes and the blood-soaked, torn apart skin are the telling evidence of how torturous the journey must have been.
After so many defeats, the one final success is exhilarating and impressionable. Even the Night Mother seems to agree. As the survivors of the Hand stand before their spiritual leader, her voice melts with sweet laughter. She tells them she is most pleased with them and especially with their new Listener.
The Listener. Lucien smiles as the Unholy Matron bestows her blessings upon him, raising him above all her children. He has rewritten the end of the play. Oh, but there is more, she assures. You will find your reward in Fort Farragut. The puppet who has cut loose his strings waits for your return.
"Later," is the first word he utters as the Listener of the Black Hand to his Speakers, who are now eager and willing to receive his instructions. There is much work to be done, but none is as important as finding his promised reward. After all that waiting, this is the one meeting he will not wish to delay.
There is a simmer of quiet excitement in his dark chamber as he climbs down the ladder, flickering red lights in his Void. And it is no longer empty.
"I trust that the grieving boy finally found his silence."
Lucien turns with deliberate slowness, and when he finally faces the lithe form of his vampire, he does not speak for a while, as though afraid of disturbing the moment of perfect silence between them. When he finally parts his lips, neither his words nor his tone betray the whirlwind of emotions raging inside him. But Lucien was for once unguarded in his silence, and Vicente could clearly hear what he so badly had wanted to: I crave for you.
"I see you have returned."
"Did you expect anything else?"
"Then, you will stay?"
Vicente cannot answer as his lips are crushed open. Lucien has decided to take what is his, and Vicente is only happy to oblige. Hot breath caresses cold skin, and the cool hands reciprocate without hesitance or uncertainty. There is no smooth efficiency, when they shed their clothing, their mouths mostly locked and hands busy exploring. But the smouldering desires keep them going undeterred till Lucien pins Vicente to the bed securely beneath his weight.
Lucien's hands are still rough and demanding, but they now move with purpose. There is a regard for the vampire in his eyes, even as the shade of lust becomes darker and thicker. No sweet nothings are whispered in Vicente's ear, but he is made to feel the rare expression of affection when Lucien's lips unexpectedly and gently land on his temple, his eyelids and the crook of his neck. The pain that follows is sweet and addictive, as Lucien thrusts into his vampire repeatedly and mercilessly. The pain will linger even as the ripples of pleasure leave his body, a satisfying reminder of their joining and his fulfilled desire.
As they lie together, with Lucien's one arm possessively encircling his chest, Vicente is convinced that he will not regret his decision to live. He has bargained his eternal peace just for one kiss, and his mortal weakness may still come back to haunt him. But for now, he is given back his desire for life, far more than what he had bargained for, and he will make the most of it while it lasts.