See now, I planned to be extremely productive over the Christmas holidays, update all my stories and churn out a load of fanart as well. Except I kind of... spent it playing Dragon Age instead. But at least I have a new GBR chapter!

Chapter Twenty-Five

"Speaker?" Vicente questioned as he saw Lucien emerge from the door, despite the man's departure not an hour earlier, "Did you forget somethi-" and at the slight, gold-skinned and distinctly familiar person who followed him in, stared speechlessly for a good few seconds before he could compose himself: "Caelan?"

The mer scratched the back of his head sheepishly, "Um, hello."

"But what are you-" and he paused, as if considering his words, before shaking his head and starting anew, "Forgive my manners, I didn't even say hello. It's a pleasure to see you again."

Caelan smiled, remembering just how polite Vicente could be at times: it was the crisp, archaic formality one only found in three hundred year-old Breton gentlemen. He opened his mouth to reply, but no sooner had he done so when a wince escaped instead, at the sudden bruising grip that seized his arm. He glanced over at the culprit, but Lucien was not looking at him – rather, his eyes were trained on Vicente in such a way that suggested the vampire was about to lunge. When he looked back at said vampire, however, he looked perfectly harmless, and more than a little quizzical at the frosty glare he was receiving.

"I will need to talk to M'raaj-Dar," Lucien declared eventually, and when Caelan tried to wriggle from his grasp, held on even tighter, fingers digging unmercifully into the crook of the boy's elbow, and sending an unpleasant jolt through the nerves of his arm, "And Telaendril, when she is next present."

Vicente pursed his lips at Caelan's obvious discomfort, but chose not to comment; both he and Lucien were killers, after all, and he had seen far more brutal displays from the Speaker – many of them directed at Caelan, in fact. But oddly enough, seeing Lucien grip Caelan in such a manner unsettled him more than watching him snap the Altmer's neck like a twig.

"M'raaj-Dar should be in the training room, along with Antoinetta. Telaendril is scouting at the moment, but she should return this evening."

"That will do," was the curt reply before the man headed left, almost forcibly dragging Caelan with him. Vicente was left standing in confusion, and then mild amusement when he saw Antoinetta frog-marched from the Training Room, the heavy wooden doors snapping shut behind her.

"Sithis," he heard the girl mutter a tad sulkily; when she saw him, she did not hesitate to ask: "Vicente, what's wrong with Speaker Lucien? He was fine an hour ago, now he's all grouchy, and I think I saw Caelan with him, and-"

"It was Caelan," Vicente interrupted before a tirade of chatter could begin, as Antoinetta was wont to do, "Lucien brought him back to the sanctuary, though he didn't tell me anything."

"It must be important though, right? He looked pretty grim," she tapped her chin thoughtfully, "And he was holding onto Caelan something fierce. It must've hurt. It looked like it hurt."

"Ah, so I'm not the only one who shares that sentiment," Vicente murmured, "I suppose...if it means what I think it means...he's certainly possessive."

"Possessive," Antoinetta blinked owlishly, and Vicente found himself wondering – not for the first time – how someone so naïve could also be an assassin, and one who was rather fond of her blood and gore at that; "Why would Lucien be possessive over Caelan?"

"Because-" and he remembered that this was Antoinetta he was talking to. Antoinetta, who proclaimed Lachance her saviour. Antoinetta, whose crush on her Speaker was not exactly a secret. Antoinetta, who would probably not take the news of Lucien's new-found relationship particularly well.

"-You know what Lucien is like. He always gets touchy over his contracts," he lied easily, "He hasn't changed at all since he first came to the sanctuary."

"That's right, you wee there," her wide blue eyes gained that curious gleam, "What was he like? When he first arrived, I mean."

She always did like hearing about Lucien's past exploits. Fuel to the fire, an inner voice reminded him quietly, but went ignored. Antoinetta, after all, was the sort of person that did not give up until she got her way.

About half an hour later, when he had finished entertaining Antoinetta, and was about to settle down with a good book, the door to his quarters creaked open, and a familiarly robed figure meekly let himself in.

He arched a whitened brow; "Lucien doesn't know you're here, I presume."

"Ah, well, see, about that – no," the door was closed, and the Altmer shuffled in, setting himself awkwardly on the stone slab that served as Vicente's bed, "He let go after I stopped struggling. I sneaked off while he was talking to M'raaj-Dar."

"You do realise, when he notices you're gone-"

"If he notices."

"When he notices," Vicente corrected gently, "You are entirely too optimistic for your own good. And it is never a smart idea to expect mercy where Lucien is concerned."

"True enough," Caelan muttered, absent-mindedly rubbing the arm earlier seized by Lachance, "Ow. He got me right in the elbow, too."

"Can you not simply resurrect? If it would take the pain away..."

"Actually, that issue is debatable right about now," he gave Vicente a rather weak smile, "Guess who isn't invincible anymore?"

Vicente stared at him for a good, long minute before saying: "This is going to be a lengthy explanation, isn't it?"

A lacklustre laugh was his response: "Possibly. Remember when I killed Mannimarco to terminate the contract?" when the Breton nodded, he continued, "I sort of forgot to mention that he, ah, cursed me first."

"...You know, that's quite a monumental thing to forget."

A wince; "I'm aware. But I didn't know what he'd done, and I didn't see any immediate changes, so I thought everything was alright."

"And this is no longer the case?"

"You could say that. I can't taste anything – not food, not poison, nothing. I've stopped smelling things too, so who knows what will come next," he fidgeted with his sleeve, talking to the stone floor as opposed to an incredulous Vicente, "Each time I revive, I feel like I've lost something important, but I can't tell what. Everything's just...wrong."

Vicente leaned forwards, elbows propped on the table and fingers laced together. It made him look decidedly scholarly, and for a moment, Caelan wondered if he had been a scholar, centuries back when he was still human. There was a great deal he didn't know about Vicente, especially in regard to his past, and yet he felt as though he'd known the Breton all his life.

Lucien too, for that matter. Maybe it was an assassin thing.

"You're certain Mannimarco is the cause of this?"

"He must be, I was fine before. Well – I mean – if you can call being unkillable 'fine', but in my case, I suppose it is-" he realised he was getting off-track, coughed embarrassedly, and returned to the matter at hand: "Besides, only Mannimarco would have the power – and know-how – to change how the Staff works. At least, I think that's what he did. So Lucien is trying to figure out what's been altered."

"I see," and he couldn't quite see right, but he could've sworn Vicente was smiling – maybe even smirking – behind those interlaced fingers of his, "I suppose that conforms it, then."

He blinked; "Confirms what?"

"Your relationship with him, of course."

Funny how quickly he could go from puzzled to shocked, "H-how did you-"

"Subtlety isn't exactly your strong point," Vicente pointed out, though his voice was not unkind, "And at the moment, it doesn't seem to be Lucien's forte either. That behaviour earlier was possessive even by his standards."

"Part of the package, unfortunately," Caelan nodded glumly.

"Besides which, Lucien was hired to kill you. He tried everything to get around the invulnerability," Vicente continued, "Granted, that contract has ended now, but here he is trying to stop you from dying permanently. And Lucien, I can assure you, does not do anything remotely benevolent unless he can get something out of it."

"Truer words never spoken," Caelan answered, a grin – genuine, not weary – tugging at his lips. "Well, there's no sense in lying about it. And I don't mind you knowing, since it doesn't bother you. Er – it doesn't bother you, right?"

The vampire laughed softly; "After three hundred years, you'd be surprised at how little offends me," he then paused, wondering if he should bring the subject up, "Besides, you and I shared a rather similar experience, if you'll remember."

"O-oh. That," Caelan flushed pink right up to the tips of his ears, a true rarity on an Altmer, and looked down at his knuckles, "Well, ah, um, best...best not to mention that in front of Lucien, I think."

"Caelan!"

"Speak of the Speaker," Vicente murmured, "He appears to have noticed your absence. Do you wish to hide in the wardrobe?"

He was given a pained smile; "Hiding doesn't help. Believe me, I've tried."

"Ow, ow, ow! Stop it, Lucien!"

"Now Speaker, there's no need to be unreasonable-"

"I'll tell you when I'm being unreasonable, Executioner. Return to your quarters."

"I merely wish to see you off-"

"Yes, of course you do. And have a quick snack on Caelan while you're at it, no doubt."

"If you pull my ear any harder it'll come off!"

"Be quiet, stupid boy. This is exactly what you deserve."

"We were just talking, I swear!"

"He speaks the truth, Lucien."

"That's not the point. Did I not explicitly tell you to stay beside me while I talked to M'raaj-Dar?"

"But, but I got bored, so-"

"You should have been paying rapt attention, since the conversation concerned your fate."

"What did you find out then? Ow, ow...Lucien, let go? Please?"

Finally, the assassin released the protesting mer, who immediately cradled his abused right ear, wincing. Vicente looked disapproving. Lucien ignored him.

"The only lead he could give me was the head of the local Mages Guild Hall, a woman named Dagail."

Caelan's expression turned hopeful; "Well that's a start, right?"

"It would be, but for the fact that she's insane."

"As in eccentric?" Vicente questioned, "Most mages are. It's not so bad, just takes some getting used to."

"No, I don't mean she's eccentric. I mean she's known to hold deep, lengthy discussions with the voices in her head," Lucien told him flatly, "Completely and incurably out of her mind, and not even in the useful way like the majority of the Brotherhood, so it can hardly be called a lead at all."

"Speaker?" came a familiarly quiet female voice from behind the three of them, "I did not expect to see you here."

Lucien turned, and saw what could only be described as a stroke of pure luck: "Telaendril. Excellent, just the person I was looking for."

"Why would that be?" the Bosmer glanced over at Caelan, recognising him despite two months of absence, "And why has he returned?"

"One answer for both of those questions, my dear. I need to know what you found out when I sent you to Chorrol."

She opened her mouth to ask why, but a raised eyebrow from Lucien was all it took to cease her questions, "Not much, Speaker. The Mages Guild provided few answers, but I did hear about someone who could help. I was going to track him down when you recalled me to Cheydinhal."

"Him? A man? Who?"

"A Dunmer, Olyn Seran. Reputed to be a master in the field of Conjuration."

"A master? Not many of those floating about," Caelan commented, though his wide eyes soon narrowed slyly, "Well...I'm pretty close, but I'm not there yet."

"Not close enough to get yourself out of this mess," Lucien shot back, which soon deflated the mer's ego, "My thanks for the information, Sister. Where might we find this Olyn?"

Telaendril grimaced; "Therein lies the catch. He's at the Molag Bal shrine, far West of the Imperial City."

"...A Daedra-worshipper. Wonderful," Lucien sighed, "Well, it's better than an insane mage, and we of the Brotherhood can hardly discriminate. Let us go."

Caelan blinked; "Now?"

"Yes, now. This issue has already been put off for long enough – thanks to you, I might add. We need to undo all the damage as soon as possible."

Caelan grinned; "Psh, you just want to be able to strangle me again."

"...Yes. That too."