A/N: Reviews equal love. Thanks guys. :)

Lucien slumped wearily into a chair, grateful to be back in the familiar, damp gloom of Fort Farragut. He was getting too old to be traipsing around Cyrodill. Only thirty-odd years, and already too old for this. Too old to be flinging accusations and threats at young assassins who doubled as mages, and Sithis help him, but she was magnificent when she was angry. Lucien struggled to steer his mind away from that train of thought, because it just led to her, and her broken, amber eyes that spoke of horrors he could not name, of pain that he could never experience or inflict, of secrets that only Sithis himself knew.

Lucien shook those thoughts away almost angrily. He was a Speaker of the Black Hand, for Sithis' sake… he had ended countless lives and only ever paused to wipe the blood from his sword, he was a monster, a murderer, the reason why people feared the name of the Brotherhood, of Sithis, and this girl was making him feel almost guilty. For what? For doing his duty? He had only done what any other Speaker would have done, though any other Speaker would have killed her. What did he have to feel guilty about?

"I suppose you'll just have to trust me."

"What if I can't?"

Ah, that flash of pain in her eyes, gone as quickly as it came, but there nonetheless, and what could it possibly mean? Did she think he would trust her? He had no reason to, no need to. He barely knew Celeste, never mind the hours he had spent following her, and those brief, polite snatches of conversation every time he came to the Sanctuary that always stretched hours longer than either of them meant them to. All he knew was that she was a Breton, that she was skilled with a sword, and bow, and most any other weapon imaginable. He knew that she could pick a lock, mix a poison, remain seen, but unseen, and end a life with a skill that matched that of some members of the Hand. She was a good assassin. That was all he needed to know. And if he happened to know that she was sad sometimes, that she was too young to be that good at her job, that she killed and prayed in the same breath, that she was just so heart-achingly beautiful, well… he didn't care.

And if he knew that was a lie, he didn't care about that either.

So he had no reason to trust her. But for some reason, she had trusted him, had healed him after he attacked her, and that was the most unfathomable thing of all. Why would she do that?

Because she was kind. Well, there was that, yes, he knew that. He had watched her help every blasted farmer with a sob story on the way to Bruma. Perhaps she had feared breaking the Tenets, though he would have been breaking them himself if he had killed her without real proof of treason.

That led to another unsettling train of thought. Why had he burst in there without first finding absolute proof to confirm his suspicions? It was the way of the Hand, careful, methodical, logical. But no, he had let his temper take him, let his fist fly at her, and why in Sithis' name had he been so angry?

Because it was her. If it had been anyone else then he would have investigated, found his proof, and then killed her without a second thought. But it had been her, and he had expected more. More loyalty, to the Brotherhood, to him. He wasn't sure when he had started taking these things so personally, but he found he didn't like it.

He started out of his uncharacteristically deep contemplations as he heard the trap door above him creak open. Ah, Vicente… she must be back, he thought. It was surprising, though, he couldn't remember the last time Vicente had left the Sanctuary, let alone come to Fort Farragut.

"Vicente, I didn't expect you to come here personally," Lucien remarked dryly, getting to his feet. "I'm almost honored." He turned towards the vampire just in time to see Vicente's fist crash against his face.

"What-?" he sputtered, rubbing his jaw, shock dissolving into anger. "You would dare raise a hand against your Speaker?" Vicente scowled, an anger Lucien had never seen before in the eyes of the normally mild-mannered vampire.

"Don't pull that with me, Lucien," he spat. "I remember when you were a scared little boy, no higher than my sword, and terrified of your own shadow. You rank above me in name only, and I've lived too long to care." Lucien crossed his arms in front of him, silently conceding to that point, though he'd never admit it.

"Well, would you care to tell me what I did to deserve such a greeting?" Vicente's eyes flashed angrily, his red eyes darkening to a bloody crimson.

"She told me what happened," he growled. "She told me what you did, what you accused her of. How dare you raise your hand against a fellow Sister without cause? Without proof?" Lucien flinched in spite of himself, surprised by the venom in Vicente's words, and for some reason he decided not to think about at the moment, ashamed. The Speaker of the Black Hand and he was ashamed. It was disgusting.

"She was consorting with Blades," he snapped, searching vainly for something to justify his anger. "She gave them coin, our coin. Being part of the Brotherhood demands keeping quiet, keeping invisible, but she just traipses across Cyrodiil and declares her existence to the world." Vicente's eyes narrowed, his hands almost trembling with anger.

"You have no idea what she was doing there," he said, spitting the words out between clenched jaws. "And even if she did betray us, the Night Mother demands proof. Celeste has been a loyal child of Sithis since she joined us. Now mark me well, Lucien, if you lay a hand on her again like that, I will make sure you see the Void before the day is through."

Another feeling stirred within Lucien then, not just indignation at Vicente's audacity, but something else entirely… Why did the vampire care so much?

"You would threaten me, would incur the wrath of Sithis, for her?" Lucien demanded. "Why?" Something in Vicente's eyes flickered, and Lucien was quite sure he didn't like what he saw there.

"Because she would do the same for any of us," he said at last. "Even you." Lucien had nothing to say to that. He sighed, once again feeling the shame wash over him.

"She…she is alright?" he asked quietly. Vicente's anger faltered for a second and he nodded.

"Yes, she is alright," he replied, his eyes still red with anger, but his voice less hostile. "No thanks to you, I might add. She came to me, exhausted and terrified that if I spoke to you, you'd kill me." Lucien sighed. She thought so little of him… that he'd kill a Brother for simply associating with her? Well, now that he thought about it, he probably gave that impression.

"I was…mistaken," he said at last. "I acted rashly, and I should know better, after all these years. Celeste need not fear my wrath any longer." Vicente nodded slowly, surprise evident in his eyes.

"I would suggest you tell her that," he said, turning back to the ladder. "In the morning, of course. Celeste needs her sleep now." Lucien found he didn't like the fond way Vicente spoke of her, the way his voice wrapped tenderly around her name. He decided it would be too much of a headache to question why.

"Oh, and Lucien," the vampire continued, turning his gaze back on him. "Remember what I said before. She is of the Brotherhood, of Sithis, and you will not hurt her again." And with that he was gone, back to the Sanctuary before the sun arose, leaving Lucien standing alone.