A/N: Nice timely update this time. And, that chapter title sounds so biblical, doesn't it? And, woohoo! A good haul of reviews! Thank you so much!

: I just had to include that nickname somewhere!

maskedpainter: Glad you found Lucien's drama-queen attitude plausible.

Lunatic Pandora1: I think Lenore's a more a person to do things to just to experience them at that point in her life. Yes, I can imagine her leaping nude into nettles just to see what it felt like, actually.

BloodAndDiamonds: Ah, it's better to let you speculate as to why she did it.

Shadow Pegasus: I would get this done quicker but I have my other Oblivion fanfiction, Burgundy and Black, and I have to give both my stories equal attention otherwise one might get neglected.

Miss Lieress: Glad to hear it!

Broken Daggers

Chapter 35: Purifying the Innocent

Lucien

There was no room for regret. What needed to be done had to be done, or so Lucien told himself as he sat in the darkness of Fort Farragut. He had attempted to distract himself with his painting but even that failed him. He needed a good model but he certainly would not ask her. No, not now she had that withered old bat to keep her company, withering herself as she did so.

Just another failed artist, he told himself, Another artist who sticks too closely to what she knows already to want to learn anything else. There's nothing you can do for them. Let them just stew in their own backward thinking. All she is a model. A soulless unique face. No, not pretty. Definitely not pretty. As plain and ordinary as can be, it just has different colours than normal.

So, he had absolutely no problem with what had to be done that day. Even less so when he heard a scuffling around in the rafters like something was up there,

"Come down, girl. You're not impressing anyone."

There was a small whoosh and flump, I hope that was a high fall and you broke your ankle. He would have said this out loud but it wasn't at all professional. That was all this was; a professional meeting to give her an order. There was no need to feel anything but cold nothingness. Nothing like missing her company or wishing he could have her old, unruined self back so he could paint her again.

So, he stood and surpressed a shudder at the sight of Lenore's face, made older than its time by vampirism, It must of been forced on her. She would never agree to sully herself like this. No true woman would. Still, the crime was done and she seemed unregretful of being involved in it. Her nonchalant, "Hi, boss. What's the story?" made his blood boil, How can she be so calm when she has suffered such a tragedy? She ought to be regretful, cover her face so no evidence of it could be seen like she was in mourning, not showing it off for all to see like an interesting tattoo,

"Not a very pleasing story." He answered, leaving only a split second pause for all his hateful thoughts to get organised, "No doubt, you would have heard the rumours of a traitor in the Dark Brotherhood's midst, killing our Brothers," How much he was loath to say 'our', "and throwing the Black Hand into doubt and confusion."

"Oh, dear." Is that all you can say, you unnatural thing? Everything she said was another crime to add to the list, so wound up in hatred as he was. She didn't even sound like she meant it, "So, what do I have to do, boss? Keep an eye out for anything weird? Scout around? I can hear people's heartbeats now so I can-"

"Shut up, girl. Shut up." He had no time to waste with pleasantries, especially on such a common girl like her. She was too prettily dressed for someone like her too. Such clothes were wasted on her. Especially that ruby fang-shaped pendent hanging from a gold chain around her neck. That belonged on a Countess and certainly not someone like her. He was tempted to ask her where she stole it from but, again, it was unprofessional, "This has gone beyond that. The traitor has become a blight on the Black Hand, tainting it like a canker."

She nodded, though Lucien thought she was just trying to look like she understood when she didn't. How could such a dumb little thing understand these kind of ideas, after all? Still, he went on, "The taint has been traced to the Cheydinhal Sanctuary."

She blinked, Well, at least she's taken in the fact that the Cheydinhal Sanctuary is her home. Saves me from having to explain it, "What does that mean, boss?"
"That the traitor is within the Sanctuary and has tainted it beyond repair. Therefore, you have been chosen to perform the rite of Purification." Though her dimwitted brain probably couldn't understand, his dark tone made it clear that the meaning was not a good one. Her face fell, though it did nothing to ease the hideousness of it.

Here's the best part. I need to deliver this perfectly! He lowered his voice, darkened his tone and made it completely devoid of feeling, "Everyone in the Sanctuary...must die."

She blinked once. Twice. Then, utter horror painted itself all over her face. Her demon eyes widened, her mouth opened, showing indecent fangs, and her hands raised as though to defend herself, only demonstrating how horribly-overgrown the nails were, "What?" She gasped, "B-but, boss...that's stupid! How-"

"Silence, girl!" He snarled. His face was nowhere near as beastly as hers and yet she flinched, drawing back at the sight of him in anger. The sight brought him enormous satisfaction, "The Black Hand has ordered this and you cannot question it." He lost his angry tone and adopted a dark voice, knowing it would scare her, "All must die. Antoinetta Marie, Telaendril, Gogron gro-Bolmog, Teinaava, Ocheeva, M'raaj Dar and..." He gave a dramatic pause, just to prepare her, "...Vicente Valtieri."

He took extra long to pronounce the name, just to see her heart break. It worked gloriously, Oh, where is my sketchbook when I need it? He thought, delightedly, at the look on her face. She staggered backwards as the full force of it began to hit her. Her mouth opened and closed in quick succession, as though she was trying to form words.

He expected her to swoon, scream or something dramatic. That would just make this scene complete, Come on. He thought to her, Come on, girl. Give me a good, dramatic ending before the curtain falls and we go to the next scene. But, still, she just kept mouthing like a fish out of water. A fish caught on a line and couldn't escape its fate.

Finally getting bored, Lucien grasped her by the arm and pulled her away to the door. All the way through the cavernous passages, she didn't make a single noise. When he reached the door, he gave her a hard shove that made her topple and fall flat on her face, Stay there. I can't see that face of yours from there, "Now, go to it. I will give you a week to complete this task. If you do not or attempt deserting, I will kill them for you and then slaughter every man, woman and child who defends you. Then, whether you like it or not, you shall serve me as my Silencer."

The door gave a very satisfying bang as the performance ended, Now, just a week to wait before it's done. Either way, that monster who wrecked her will die and what is left of her shall serve me.

Janus

The knock at the door was not welcome. He did not like being roused at such an early hour of the day. Scowling at the sunlight filtering through the curtains, he dimly registered that it was Mercator on the other side of the door. Pushing aside thoughts that he had saved whatever task he had until Janus was asleep just to spite him,

"Letter for you, sir." At least, he had the sense to make his visit as brief as possible. After all, who would deliberately wake a vampire and stay around? He unfurled the new parchment and held it to the candlelight. It was very hastily scrawled, in a spidery hand that made no two etching of the same letter exactly the same:

Count Hassildor

I have been told that you know where to find the cure to vampirism. I need the cure before the end of the week, it's really important that I get it. I'm downstairs right now and I'm writing this because I can't talk. Please, Count, this is really important to me. If you can give me any information, I will be very grateful.

Vini

Janus blinked in surprise at the name but he really wasn't surprised. No doubt that the poor, unthinking girl had become tired of vampirism quickly and wanted a quick way out of it. He was sorely tempted to just tell her to go away and find it herself. After all, it was her who caused such a riot in his town that Rosethorn Hall was still called the 'Vampire House' to this day and she only had herself to blame for acting so hastily.

But, his good nature that had transcended his transformation into a monster pervaded his thoughts and told him not to. The memory of the innocent little girl who had run away from home on a reckless whim and ran into him in the night splashed across his mind, making it unbearable to turn her away so cruelly. By the sound of it, she was really desperate to be rid of her affliction and, if she didn't get the cure soon, she would stop feeding then...

He shook his head. He didn't want to think about it but he certainly didn't want the girl to become a corpse in all but name like Rona. Speaking of Rona...if the girl was successful, this just might be the opportunity to give her peace he'd been looking for. Besides, Vini was the only person who had ever come forward and said she was interested in finding it. If he didn't take this opportunity, who knew how long he would have to wait for the next time?

So, he threw on a dressing gown, tried to not look tired and strode downstairs. Sure enough, she was waiting but what a different girl she was! She was not carefree or nonchalant but nervous and worried, her tattered and dirtied cloak wrapped tightly around her, as though thinking something was going to leap out on her at any moment. Which was rather irrational since she was the creature who leapt out at people in the dark.

Mercator gave her a sneering look that she, thankfully, did not see and Janus cleared his throat,

"Hello, Miss Vini."

She nodded in greating, her mouth tightly shut, and Janus remembered how she said she couldn't speak, Perhaps her tongue was cut out,

"No doubt you're wondering why I would want the cure for vampirism along with you, since I am so well-adapted to my new lifestyle." He gave Mercator a significant look that he wanted to be alone. Even he took the hint and slipped out of the door, "You see, the cure is not for myself. It is for my wife, Rona." She looked up, interested and really taking in what he was saying, "More than fifty years ago, she was afflicted with vampirism around the same time I was. While I came to embrace the changes in myself, she did not."
She could already see where this story was going, as evidenced by the ends of her mouth turning down slightly,

"She hated what she had become and refused to feed to keep herself healthy. She eventually slipped into a coma, from which she has not awoken." He was glad that he had managed to tell her the story without his voice cracking. He wondered vaguely what her story was. Had she broken up with Valtieri? Or was she just sick of eternal life and wanted to be mortal again? Of course, he couldn't ask her so he put such questions to the back of his mind, "My trusted servants have cared for her all this time but I wish for her to at last find peace."

Vini nodded, her mouth downturning even more. It was clear that she felt for him and his poor wife. At least, she had gained more of a knowledge of how people felt since she was a child,

"I have researched what I can but acquiring the cure is beyond my grasp. I cannot risk drawing too much attention to myself."

This time, she nodded with her head bowed slightly, as though in apology. This, Janus found rather pleasing. She was realising what a danger she had brought on him by acting so wild with Valtieri. Still, he acted as though he didn't notice,

"So, I would ask you to take up the search on my behalf. If you are successful, I will reward you in what small way I can." Though, he felt that a reward was not really necessary, "What little I have discovered points to the Witches of Glenmoril. In the past, they have been capable of creating a cure. There may be one left. I have unconfirmed reports of a woman seen near the Corbolo river who fits the description of these witches. If you are successful in finding the cure, please report to my steward."

With a final nod, Vini stood and hurried out of the room before Janus had time to bid her farewell. As he went back to bed, he wondered about her again, thinking hard as to why she would want the cure apart from the obvious reasons. She seemed nervous, like she was running from something. Perhaps those dratted vampire hunters were chasing her. It was bound to happen if she kept drawing so much attention to herself. It must be a very desperate and powerful vampire hunter if that was the case, otherwise Valtieri would have got rid of it.

And, there was another thing. Why did she come out on her own? Surely, a vampire that was not even two years into her immortality should not be out on her own. For all his carelessness, Valtieri would never allow that. Valtieri hadn't even crossed his mind until now and, as he settled back into bed, he got the distinct feeling that something had happened, was happening or was about to happen to the old vampire. Whatever was happening, it was nothing good.

It was clear that the girl had pulled out all the stops to do the task. In little more than three days, she had returned. It was clear she had not been feeding since her face was whiter and more withered than before. When he had last saw her, she was desperate to keep drinking to try and maintain some semblance of beauty in her face. However, she looked more like Valtieri than anything human.

When she returned, she brought the Glenmoril witch, Melisande, with her. So, the three of them went down to Rona's chamber. This was the part he had been trying to prepare himself for. He'd taken fifty years to do it and he couldn't help but think that he was still not ready after all this time. When the sight of his wasted wife, dressed in the clothes she had been dressed in by the servants and her hair done in a style that did not suit lying on a bed all day. The only thing missing was a coffin.

Yes, that was why she was so nicely done. So, the servants didn't have to waste too much time when it was time to bury her. It was a horrible thought but Janus knew it to be true. Vini kept to the shadows, her hood pulled to the extreme over her head so it was a miracle that she could walk down the dark passage without running into the walls.

As she pushed herself against the wall, Melisande strode over to the bed where his dear wife lay with all the detached business attitude of a healer at work, not at all bothered by the sight of a vampire beyond all help before her. Though he could not see her face, Janus listened hard for a heartbeat and, to his great surprise, found one. He supposed that she must have taken her cure before coming here. It was jittery, uneven and nervous. Clearly, she was just as unprepared for this moment as he was.

All too soon, Melisande was doing the spell that would wake Rona long enough for her to drink the potion. There was no point asking her to stop. If he did, he would never give her the command to start. As they said, it was now or never.

The spell was finished in a heartbeat, though he was told it was meant to be very complicated. Melisande completed her craft as though it was nothing, like a true Glenmoril witch. In contrast, it seemed to take an agonising age for Rona to wake up. Another painful wait that seemed like another fifty years of anguish before she spoke,

"Janus? Oh, why did you wake me? Please, just let me sleep." She sounded upset, distressed by her re-entrance into reality,

"It's alright, darling. Drink this. It'll make you...better." He couldn't bear to say it. Until that moment, he had scorned those who lied to dying loved ones but now, he could see that it was just too painful for the ones who were telling the lies to give away the truth. And, surely, seeing the dying person realise with despair and horror that their days were numbered would only make it ten times as worse.

So, Rona drank from the bottle that contained both cure and poison. The redness of her eyes was already fading, taking Rona's life slowly with it. He worried for a moment that she might be in pain but there was no sign of it on her. Instead, she turned her head to the side and spotted Vini in the shadows, "Come into the light."

Vini of course knew that there was little time left so she obeyed, pushing back her hood. Now, it was clear that Vini was the runaway Janus had met almost ten years ago. Her healthy purple skin was smoothed and young and, though her eyes were more shadowed and her cheeks were colourless, she was clearly mortal. Her orange hair caught the candle light as it came flowing over her shoulders.

Rona's face lit up at the sight, "What a pretty girl you are. You must be a Harla." That was the last thing she said. Her life faded but, instead of the dreaded coma, it was genuine. Real, irreversable death. Trying to distract himself from his own grief, he looked to Vini. Her eyes were wide in shock, as though she hadn't expected this would happen.

He couldn't really blame her. In his mind, the horrible image of the myth that all vampires convulsed with agony before disappearing into ashes was lurking and he was very grateful that it wasn't the case in reality.

Vini must have fled the place afterwards because, when he looked back, she was gone. Not just hiding in the shadows but gone. Melisande accepted his invition to stay for dinner though, saying she had not had a dinner in company for years. Janus was glad to have someone to talk to, since he did not like the idea of eating dinner alone that night.

Though Janus' condition stopped him from needing food as such, it felt to just have an evening meal every once in a while. Just to cling to the fact that he had been once human and keep the things he needed to know as a Count in his mind. Entertaining guests was one of them.

Though the loss of Rona weighed heavily on him, he kept his back straight and his voice even. A remarkable thing, one would say, but fifty years of waiting for her death made a part of him glad that she was finally gone, that the wait was finally over. Only a part of him, though, and certainly not a dominant one. When the obligatory she-was-a-wonderful-person speech was out of the way, the conversation turned to Janus' mild interest in how the cure was made.

Melisande went on in a lengthy but respectful way of how the process was achieved. From why only Argonian blood would do to how hard Bloodgrass was to find, "Yet, this girl managed to find it very quickly."

"Yes, I was quite surprised she came back so quickly." Janus nodded, idly, "Though, she seemed very desperate to get the cure before the end of the week if I remember correctly." It was safe to talk about her, Janus found, since she wasn't so directly connected to Rona,

"She certainly acted like it. I open the door three days ago and there she is, ready to collapse in the porch. But, she wouldn't take any of my offers to let her rest. I had to force her to sit down in the end. Never seen anyone so desperate to get something done before. Was she chased by a hunter?"

"I've no idea. I never asked."
"Is she a mute? She never talked to me and just told me what she wanted by writing it down."
"I've heard her speak before but that was over a year ago. Something could have changed since then."

"Ah," Melisande suddenly realised something. Her gasp, as well as the fluctuating heartbeat, told him that she had probably just remembered something, "Your wife said something about her being a Harla."

It was the first time the words 'your wife' came up for almost an hour. Janus managed to push down the lump in his throat but just barely, "What is a Harla?"
"An family of Dunmer nobles. They're famous for being one of the only ones with orange hair. I can see why your wife thought that she was one of them. They're also famous for their Silences."
"Silences?"
"Yes, it's passed down in the family. Sometimes, it's called the Harla Curse. When one of them is very upset, they become unable to speak. Physically unable to speak, not just a deliberate silence."
"For how long?" Janus asked, surprised,

"Depends on the mer. It could be a few days to even a whole year. Some of them can tell when it's going to stop and some can't. Either way, it's astonishing that she's even alive. The last I heard, the whole family had been wiped out. Though, with their reputation, it's not surprising they managed to smuggle one out of Morrowind."

Vicente

"Is everything ready?"

He didn't need to ask. It was clear everything was absolutely in place and ready. The banner was up, the table was set and everyone was in place, Excellent, Vicente fought back the urge to grin. A reflex, really, since he normally sent people running with his grin, Everything is going to be perfect! All we need is the honoured guest!

The wine was poured and set out at every seat except hers. He knew that she didn't like wine and she had a preference for ale so all was well,

"She's here!" called Antoinetta, bouncing down the ladder, "And, she's not a vampire anymore!"

Though the others were surprised, Vicente was not disappointed. Though she had vampirish tendencies, she made a rather poor one. She always bashed her head on the lid in the evening when she was waking up in a coffin, she could never tell the difference between the blood of different races and, one time out of three, she would wake the person she was feeding off while biting them. A very bad scenario to find yourself in, for both victim and vampire.

So, he hurried up the passage without a bit of sadness. There she was, lurking at the doorway, as though scared to go any further, Then again, who can blame her? She jumped with fright like a cat on a hot tin roof when she saw him coming,

"Glad to have you back, Vini." There was more than one meaning to that statement, "Come on. You'll want to be here."

There was still dread on her face and her heart was going absolutely mad. To Vicente, it sounded like someone was beating an enormous drum to an impossibly fast beat. It was the strongest and loudest he had ever heard from her. She had never been so afraid since she came into the Brotherhood. She didn't have any of her blind Harla bravado to cling to now. Lachance had made sure that she could see no way out and there was no way she would be willing to fight her Speaker, Lachance, you will regret this. I won't be able to make you regret it but she will when she recovers. He entertained himself for a while thinking about the Polixones in her coming and how she would beat him to a pulp.

They reached the black door and Vicente gave the entry words. Poor Vini's heart was going even more insane as they got closer,

"Surprise!"

Vini's heart skipped beats as she leapt back in surprise. Vicente smiled at the sight of everyone in the Sanctuary present and correct at the table. Even M'raaj Dar was there, having finally realised the error of his ways and decided to be civil to her, Of all times...

"Why didn't you tell us you were becoming a Silencer?" Telaendril gently chastised,

"Couldn't happen to anyone more deserving!" Gogron chortled, reaching for his goblet,

"Ah, ah, ah!" Vicente quickly intervened, Not yet. It has to be everyone at once, "Not yet, Gogron. We have to make a toast."

Vini was even worse than ever, her heart pounding fit to burst. He knew full well that there was no way to consol her without giving everything away so he simply raised his glass, "To Vini, who we will miss when she is a Silencer."
"To Vini!" This was echoed around the table and everyone drank deeply, except for Vini who just sat there, staring around as though she had walked into a completely different world. Vicente tasted the poison in the drink but his vampirism saved him from being affected. A very annoying inconvenience.

It took maybe three seconds before everyone realised what was happening. When Antoinetta clutched at her throat and Gogron gave his empty goblet a sniff, strangled panic began to take hold of them. Ocheeva glared at the wine and then to Vicente, who nodded. It was obvious; he had bought and poured out the wine. Nothing there could be connected to her.

First Telaendril. Being such a small thing, the poison quickly got through her veins and made her collapse. Then, M'raaj Dar, his tail and whiskers erect as he fell sideways onto the floor. Antoinetta tried and failed to reach for her dagger. Gogron fell beside Telaendril. Ocheeva and Teinaava were the last, gasping as they collapsed, "Why...? Why, brother...?"

Vicente just watched them with the same detachment he had learned throughout the many generations of the Cheydinhal Sanctuary. This was just another generation gone, albeit all in one fell swoop. And, now it was time to go with them. With the amount of years he had seen, one would think Vicente was desperate to cling onto life. But, he knew when it was time to bring it to a good stop.

Lavinia and he were now the only ones standing. The food was untouched, the candles on the table still burned, the cutlery was abandoned where they had been left and even the chairs were still standing neatly around the table. Only the wine goblets were displaced and nothing really was severely out of place to suggest that such carnage had just taken place. Apart from the bodies sprawled on the floor.

Vicente picked up the glass wine pitcher and began pouring it into a vase full of tiger lilies set on the table. Lavinia watched the stream of red liquid with a keen eye, her heart calming just a little. When the pitcher was empty, he held it up to the light, where dark bits was still sticking to the bottom and some drawing out in a thinning line towards the rim, trying to escape with the wine,

"It's poison made from nightshade." He explained, putting it down and walking towards her, "I know you're confused but hear me. As much as I hate to steal someone else's contract, I knew that this one was definitely beyond your capabilities."
Her heart skipped more beats at the realisation. Of course, she would understand immediately. She opened and closed her mouth, trying to break her Silence and ask 'why',

"There is no denying the will of the Black Hand, Lavinia." She started at the sound of the first time her real name was used in nearly three years, "I have been here long enough to know that, however foolish and self-destructive it may be, their orders must be upheld. Purification is a terrible ritual. A cowardly and brainless idea that has never led to good. I have only heard of it performed once before in my lifetime and the person who did it took their own life soon after. They could not bear the thought of having killed their brethern."

He looked straight into her eyes, that were becoming wet with tears. She tried to look away but he caught her chin and made her look back,

"You have no such guilt to bear. The crime of destroying our Sanctuary is mine and it is my soul that they will haunt, not yours."

She shook her head and clutched her hair, backing into a wall. Vicente followed and put his arms around her, taking in the strong smell of her blood for the first time in over a year. As he did, he lowered his hand to her belt and found her elven shortsword. Drawing it out, he took its position, point placed over his heart. In an instant, her hand was upon the hilt, trying to wrench it away. She was now crying in earnest and, if she could speak, she would be pleading him not to do what he intended to.

Of course, he would not let something like that stop him,

"Spill some blood for me, dear sister."

A/N: (sob) Vicente...