Title: Mourner's Dawn

Author: Kytten

Pairing: Lucien Lachance/OMC

Rating: PG13

Disclaimer: Don't own.


Sam had expected a lot of things from Lucien. Screaming, for instance, or fighting. Possibly both. He'd expected there to be a great deal of insulting, bluff calling and general orneriness. He didn't get it.

Lucien's face went white and Sam was painfully reminded of being slammed against the wall, the man in front of him hissing, "Should have killed me when you had the chance."

But there was no attack, no insults, just silence the moment before Lucien turned on his heel and left, striding out of the room without so much as a rude gesture. Wary, wondering if he weren't walking into a trap, he followed him out into the hall. But Lucien ignored him completely, never once looking back, hands balled into fists at his side.

"Suit yourself," he muttered, closing Ocato's door behind him to return the man a scrap of privacy. "I can expel you again if you like."

"Moody, isn't he?" Eldamil snorted.

"I don't trust him." Sam could hear the frown in Martin's voice. "He'll return."

"I don't know. That seems pretty final to me."

"I sincerely doubt that man has ever failed to get the last word in his life. He'll return."

Sam shrugged and walked back to his borrowed room.

"I don't care. It's not as though he can kill me."

"Can kill you or will?" Eldamil asked. "I rather suspect there's a difference."

Another shrug and Sam turned to look at the door, a smirk curling at the corners of his lips. He had an idea.

Ocato emerged from his rooms only after Evangeline had been properly placated which ended up taking two goes in as many hours, as well as a long bath and a bit of a cuddle. He found his latest potion had been reduced to a puddle on the floor, surrounded by shattered glass and had already set to turning the floor an alarming shade of blue.

Sam was conspicuously absent. A quick search of the boy's room revealed it also to be empty. There were scattered bits of paper and a rather alarming dent in the door, but no more. It wasn't until Ocato returned to his quarters that he saw the note staked to the outside of his own door.


Very sorry to have inadvertently made a mess of things. Hope everything's patched up well. Unfortunately, this was too perfect of an opportunity to pass up. Know that I've escaped and will (possibly) return within the week. Have people to see, arrangements to make. Official business. As I said, I happen to be a very important person.

Tell Evangeline I think she's gorgeous when she's livid,

Sam


Ocato sighed and pulled the dagger free, wishing Sam's note-leaving techniques were not quite so dramatic. For that matter, if he could only keep the boy properly penned in... There was no doubt in his mind as to the nature of this official business and it rankled him that Sam could be so heedless of the danger he was placing them both in.

Ah, but there was one thing he could do. One thing Sam probably hadn't counted on.

"Evangeline?" Ocato asked with his very sweetest smile. "Could you do me an extremely huge favor?"

She looked up from her search for a decent book, still in her bathrobe.

"Ocato—"

"I promise, I will repay you in full." This with an unmistakable, devilish gleam.

Evangeline smiled, matching his mischief.

"What is it you need?"


Lucien was in the blackest of black moods. It was quite possible that this particular mood had never before seen an equal. Even Mankar Camoran in the middle of his worst day would have thought twice before intercepting the Speaker-turned-Murderer as he stormed off into the trees.

Damned if he was going to be a fetching Murderer. Serving under Vicente was bad enough, but he could have almost, almost tolerated it had Arquen not set herself up as mother of the guildhall.

There was no way he was about to do it. That ungrateful wretch of a Bosmer could take his stupid notes and shove them up his ass for all Lucien cared. He quit. He quit. He willingly quit.

He would not serve under a traitor. And that went for Sam as well as Arquen.

How could he do this to me? My Silencer. My own gods damned Silencer.

He'd been willing to give up everything for him. To help him. Because Sithis knew he could sit back and watch the boy fail. The position of Listener belonged to him. Everyone knew that he would succeed Ungolim in the event of his death.

Lording his power over me… We'll see how long he lasts, won't we? Bloody idiot.

Sam didn't know the inner workings of the guild. Hell, he'd only been in it for a little over two months. There was no way in hell he even knew the location of the other guildhalls.

How could he do this? Sithis… I will not let that Altmer pig control me.

This was not a betrayal he could easily stomach. Let the boy find him if he cared. There was no way in hell he could stand back and allow himself to be used in such a manner.

I worked my way through the guild. How dare he take my position away? Power-hungry son of a bitch.

Glancing up at the sign above the inn door, Lucien shouldered his way inside and away from the storm clouds threatening to break above him.


"Oh, shit," Sam swore, leaning low over Shadowmere's saddle and glaring up at the heavens. "Why does it have to bloody well rain?"

"It's Martin's fault," Eldamil offered cheerfully, reveling in the fact that he'd never be stuck on a cantankerous horse in the middle of a downpour wearing too-heavy robes again.

"Oh, shove it," he growled, and continued on, tired of the ever-present voices in his head… in the void. It didn't make any sense anymore and he was sick of it.


"I know this is an unusual request," Ocato said, turning to face the guard seated next to him. "But it is incredibly important to the safety of the empire."

Hieronymus frowned, leaning back into the horribly uncomfortable stone seat, absentmindedly stroking the place on his hip where his coin purse should have been.

"Your battle mages are not sufficiently trained for this… task of yours?" he asked carefully.

Ocato smiled.

"I assure you, you're the best one for the job."

"Alright." He sat up a little straighter. "What do you need me to do?"

"Bring back the Champion of Cyrodill at all costs. He's about to do something incredibly stupid."


How could he do this?

It was a never ceasing litany that beat against the backs of his eyes in time to the throb of the rain pouring down outside.

Does he have any idea what he's done?

He needed a plan. Something, anything to get back at the little wretch.

Does he think I'll let it go?

Like it or not, Sam was his. His servant, his Silencer, his lover. There was no way in hell he was going to let him get away with this.

Slowly, Lucien smiled, pulling free from his black mood. This could be dealt with like anything else. Sam wanted to play this way? So could he. And judging by the way last night had gone… well, the boy wouldn't be all too keen on losing him, would he?

What would happen, I wonder, if I were to simply disappear?

The smile turned into a wicked, self-satisfied smirk. Sometimes the best plan was simply to wait.


Sam stepped into the expansive basement, squinting in the candlelight. He could see Sinderion standing in the far back, completely engrossed in whatever experiment he was performing.

Smiling, just glad he'd caught the mer when he was actually at home, Sam strode forward, note in hand. Sinderion didn't notice.

Sam waited until he'd set what was possibly a highly volatile potion down before knocking on the table, laughing as he watched the Altmer jump.

"Oh, hello, Samwane," he laughed, scratching a hand through wavy white hair. "What brings you to my evil lair this fine day?"

Sam held out the note and Sinderion's smile faded.

"Did you lose another bet, Sam?"

No, I have not lost another bet, the note said, rather accurately predicting the Altmer's question. I've lost my voice. Help?

"Well, that depends," he said, setting down the note. "How did you lose it? Is this a backwards spell or a poison?"

Sam stole his quill, writing another note under the first.

Long story

"Well." Sinderion smiled. "I've got the count's potions yet to make, so you've all the time you need."