Title: Rather Unexpected
Author: Kytten
Pairing: Lucien x ofc
Rating: T
Disclaimer: Don't own. Obviously.
A pair of bookend guards intercepted Hanarai before she could reach her house, standing shoulder to shoulder and looking vaguely uncomfortable about the whole situation.
"You can't go in, madam," said the one on the left.
Hanarai stepped back in shock.
"Can't go in? This is my home."
"There's been… an accident," said the other, uncomfortably. "Your husband is dead."
"Where were you this past week, madam?"
"Dead?" Tears welled in her eyes. "Gadayn is… dead? No, that's not possible. He can't be dead."
The guard on the right glared at the other's lack of tact and moved forward to comfort her.
"I'm sorry."
"W…what happened?" she didn't bother with a handkerchief, knowing this was the sort of man that hated to see a woman cry. "Could the healers do nothing?"
"It was… too late for that when we arrived. His neck was broken."
"His neck?" Her eyes went very wide and she began to breathe faster, a hand fluttering to her chest. "Not Gadayn. There must be some mistake. Not my husband."
"Ma'am, are you alright?" the other asked, stepping forward. "You look pale."
"Gadayn," she whispered, and crumpled.
The first guard caught her before she could hit the ground, sweeping her up to cradle in his arms.
"Oh, yes," he snarled, glaring at his partner. "She faints at the thought of blood. She must have been the one to kill her husband."
"I didn't say she was our only suspect," the other snapped. "Simply the most likely."
"Because it's obvious a muscle bound woman like this could tie that boulder of a Bosmer to the ceiling."
"Look, Bittneld said to explore every option."
"You cannot consider this an option."
There was a long pause as the two men looked around the street uncomfortably.
"What are we going to do with her?" the second asked at length.
"Find an inn, I guess. Emfred gives free rooms to the guard."
"She gives free rooms to Bittneld, you mean."
"Ah. We're going to have to find the captain, aren't we?"
From her position draped in the man's arms Hanarai resisted the urge to move. This man was disgusting. She was most certainly going to need a bath after he finally put her down, the filthy, unshaven, unwashed fetcher of a Nord. At least her Imperial had sense enough to use soap.
A particularly nice blend, whatever it was. Either that or his cologne had been lovely. She couldn't help but noticed the soft, earthy sent that hung around him. It'd been like a breath of fresh air in the stifling heat of that tavern.
Which was part of the reason she hadn't threatening to emasculate him in front of Farwil. That and the fact he was currently rescuing her from Farwil.
Thinking longingly of the chocolates in her pack and the lovely Dunmer who'd bought them for her, Hanarai held very still and tried not to breathe.
It didn't work.
Making a small kittenish noise in the back of her throat, she pretended to wake. The guard startled and set her down, holding her when she swayed precariously.
"Careful. You got your feet under you, ma'am?"
"I'm fine. I am," she murmured, taking an unsteady step forward. "I just need… Oh my… Gadayn."
She burst out crying again, leaning against the wall for support lest she give away the game. Flustered, the Imperial of the pair offered her a handkerchief.
"I'm sorry, ma'am. Do you have anywhere to stay?"
She shook her head.
"No family? Friends?"
"Morrowind," she hiccupped. "My family is in Morrowind."
The guards exchanged a look before the first broke.
"We'll be done here by tomorrow, ma'am. Why don't we set you up in an inn tonight?"
She smiled through her tears, managing to look both grateful and shattered.
"You'd do that for me?" Just a little thing, but it would be enough to guilt him into paying for the room had he not been of the mind already.
As it was, he smiled consolingly, putting an arm over her shoulders.
"Yes, ma'am. Lets get you set up, hmm?"
With a last, lingering glare at his partner, he picked up her bags and led her down the street.
It was funny, Hanarai mused, kicking her legs over the edge of the copper tub. In her youth she'd played with all sorts of humans. And she'd found that while amusing for a short while, they were never very satisfying. They had a tendency towards naivety and useless violence. Jealousy was more common than not, whether it drove the man in question to tears or madness. And they were always gone so quickly it began to make her uncomfortable. There was something very wrong about looking at a creature so young at the end of its life.
She knew better than to start that old game up again. It would only lead to an abrupt, awkward end. But somehow, that was the beauty of it. If she were to seduce her Imperial, she'd have only a few years to wait before he died. In that time, it was possible she could get to know other, more powerful members of the guild. And with his death, perhaps they would even comfort her in her grief.
Giggling at the thought, she leaned over the edge of the tub, searching for her chocolates.
To have the entire Dark Brotherhood beneath her thumb… The very thought was exciting. Because the Dark Brotherhood had a tendency of being very influential in politics and Hanarai loved politics.
It was like an exhilarating game of bluff, learning how to play each man against his own desires, a constant litany of split second decisions— when to lean forward, make eye contact, look away, bite her lip, laugh, cry… Brilliance.
That dotty old emperor was absolutely useless. But Ocato… if she could get close to him.
Hanarai laughed at the thought. It was farfetched, but possible. Though it would take the better part of a century to worm her way in.
What would father say if she gained control of an empire? That certainly beat out her brother's stupid ebony mines at any rate. Not that she imagined they'd be producing much with the abolition movement.
That was the epitome of useless, honestly. Beast races, they called them, and yet they could not be used as beasts.
Not that it was any of her concern. She had more than enough willing helpers.
Grinning, she leaned over to pluck a chocolate from its box. A hot bath, some nice wine, a good plan of attack, chocolate…
Bliss.
There was the little matter of what exactly she was going to do while those boys cleaned up her house. She was too tired to play with Modryn. His idea of fun usually consisted of either killing things, or practicing how to kill things.
Hanarai pursed her lips, realizing she didn't really have many friends in Chorrol. It was bad form, after all, to keep one's toys in the vicinity of one's husband. There'd been a mer once, but come to think of it, she really hadn't seem him in ages.
Frowning, Hanarai realized she was on her own tonight and in a strange inn to boot. Bloody Gadayn and his messes.
Lucien glared at the road, wincing with every thundering step of Shadowmere's hooves as she pounded down the road.
Drinking had not helped.
He'd known it wouldn't, but at the time he hadn't been thinking of the repercussions. Merely of the fact that he had been pushed far past his breaking point, he was in near constant pain, hadn't slept in ages and lately he was being forced into doing things far below his station.
Add to that for some reason he was being sent to Chorrol to facilitate the saving of a life? Madness. Pure madness. He had no idea how much that idiot had paid Ungolim, but it must have been enough to buy a kingdom. This wretched contract went against everything they stood for.
The Dark Brotherhood was meant to inspire fear, for Sithis' sake. They were agents of death, destruction and chaos.
They were never intended to help little old ladies across the street and chase off other assassins when some idiot didn't pay his debt on time.
He hissed, blowing air from between his teeth as his headache reached massive proportions. This was not turning out to be a good day. There was no way he was going to do anything beyond what it was he'd been sent to do.
Negotiate with debting idiot.
Kill debting idiot's mother.
Send someone off to collect debting idiot.
And perhaps, if he weren't aggravated to exhaustion by that point, he'd poke through that Dunmer woman's house and see if he couldn't find something of interest. She certainly seemed to be the sort that would keep letters and such. Perhaps even a few of them would contain rather… interesting tidbits.
Tidbits that could, no doubt, be used against her in some way.
Lucien smiled at the thought, before the angle of sunlight on the sign pointing towards Chorrol set his brain alight. He swore and squeezed his eyes shut, casting a soft healing spell to help with the pain.
He was a Speaker of the Dark Brotherhood, for Sithis' sake. He should be in his nice dark ruin, under a nice cool pile of blankets, hiding from the world right now.
Bloody Ungolim and his messes.