Title: Mourner's Dawn
Author: Kytten
Pairing: Lucien Lachance/OMC
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: Don't own.
Author's Note: Happy birthday, Pheonicia!
Ocato wiped the blood away from his mouth, spinning to glare at the guard.
"Find the Champion of Cyrodill now. Bring him to me. Take as many men as you need."
"Yes, sir!" he barked, wondering why he'd need men, but knowing better than to pose the question.
Sam realized he was falling after a few seconds had passed. Also realized that Eldamil had him in an oddly comfortable death grip and was slowing their decent.
"Where does this lead?" he asked, feeling like his throat had died.
"Out," Eldamil said simply. "
It was hell waiting until nightfall to act. Lucien paced the tiny room. One end to the other and back again, running hands though the tattered remains of his hair, knowing Sam was in pain and unable to act.
"Stop that!" snapped a vaguely familiar voice behind him. "You're making me dizzy."
Lucien spun, knowing from the misty timbre the speaker was dead. He frowned at the sight of the mer, recognizing him but unable to place a name.
"Eldamil," he supplied, jumping from his seat on the chest of drawers. "My hair was black when you met me. And I believe my name was Norstrel or something like that."
"Did Sam send you?" he asked instead. Whoever the mer had been meant nothing now.
Eldamil shrugged.
"In a matter of speaking, yes. He's hiding at the moment. I'll have to show you where. And we are going to have a hell of a time of it. The guards are swarming."
"What's happened? Is Sam—"
"Intact. He's intact. He tried to get loose and somehow injured Ocato's lady. Obviously, he wasn't very pleased."
Lucien glared.
"I'll kill him," he hissed, spinning around to pace the room again, already planning his attack.
"I wouldn't recommend it, honestly. Who's going to run the empire? You?"
"But, Sam—"
Eldamil waltzed in front of him, dancing with an imaginary partner, mocking his pacing.
"Lets play a game," he whispered and Lucien shivered, feeling breath that was both real and unreal. "What color are my eyes?"
Sam sat in darkness at the bottom of that long drop, listening to the voices that trickled down from above. There were two different conversations going on from the floors above him. As far as he could tell, one was in the guards' quarters and one was coming from Ocato's room.
"I'm not sure what's going on at all," one guard said, springs squeaking as he sat down on the edge of his bed in full armor. "Some are saying the Champion attacked Ocato. Some are saying Ocato's had him trapped in the palace and he escaped. I even heard, and here's the real kicker, that he was a member of the Thieves' Guild."
Someone laughed.
"What? And him friends with Lex? I doubt it."
"You gotta admit, it'd be a good cover," a new voice said, this one rather distant.
"Good cover, maybe, but you know Lex. He can spot a thief a mile off," the second said, accompanied by the sound of metal boots thudding to the floor.
"Would he suspect the Champion of Cyrodill, though, that's the question," this from the first.
"You're awake," Ocato's voice, choked with surprise and concern. "I thought he'd killed you."
"No, no. I'm fine. Or rather, I will be. You didn't tell me this boy of yours was violent."
"He wasn't supposed to be."
"Champion of Cyrodill forced to stay where he doesn't want to? I wish you would have warned me, Ocato."
"I'm sorry. I thought he'd come throw carrots at my head, not... this."
There was a pause in which Ocato repeated his apology. Evangeline was probably glaring.
"He comes into the Imperial Palace with his mind gone and you expect him to be docile?"
"These moods don't usually last very long."
"He was friends with Lex before the Oblivion crisis, though." The forth, a woman. "Remember the mess with that bust? Samwane was the one that caught the thief trying to frame his informant."
"I'd forgotten about that, actually." Laughter then. "You remember the time his ears turned purple? I've never seen Lex laugh that hard before."
"He's capable of it?" The first voice, slightly bitter.
"He's a good man," the woman snapped. "Better than some I could mention."
"Oh, you're not still sore about that—"
"Yes."
"I've apologized a thousand times, Gywne. But if it would make you feel better, I could make it up to you. I know this nice little—"
"Now would be a good time to shut up."
"Yes, ma'am."
Stifled laughter then silence marred only by the sounds of men marching from their quarters.
"So you knew? You expected it?"
"I didn't expect it, Eve. Now lay back before you hurt—"
"I've taken worse blows than this, you old fool. It would have been nice to know I was putting myself in danger though. I could have, I don't know, made a shield?"
"I didn't think—"
"And you couldn't have warned me at all, even if you didn't think he'd do it? A 'Hello, Eve. By the way, that one might kick a bit,' would have been lovely."
"I'm sorry. There's not much else I can tell you at this point. You know I wouldn't deliberately put you in danger."
Silence.
"Evangeline, I love you."
"You know, I don't believe any of it," the first said at last. "I don't think anyone knows what the hell's going on."
"That's probably the smartest thing I've heard all day."
"I'm serious."
"So am I. Everyone's flying about making assumptions. Hell, I even heard someone say he was a Mythic Dawn agent. This is getting out of hand."
"Everything would be so much easier if Ocato would just tell us why we're chasing down the Champion. Is he in danger, or is he the danger?"
"I'm so confused!" A heavy weight, likely a man in full armor, falling back onto the bed. "And by the way, has anyone seen Evangeline?"
"I did. She looked… ill."
"What'd she say?"
"She didn't say anything, actually. She was sleeping. But she looked rather pale."
"I wish you'd say something."
"Bugger off."
"Well, I could, but I honestly don't think it appropriate given the circumstances," this said with a smirk he didn't have to see.
Evangeline laughed. Only a small chuckle, but a victory none the less.
"You're a complete ass, you know that?"
"I've been called worse."
"A scatter-brained idiot fetcher who fancies the pants off of baby Bosmers—"
"Evangeline, the man that told you that is insane. And Sam's lover. I have no idea why in the hell he would bother to make up such a ridiculous, idiotic—"
"I was joking."
"Oh… alright then. Could I have a cuddle?"
"Maybe Samwane poisoned her."
Someone laughed.
"He couldn't have. He's rubbish at making potions. I tried to teach him once, he set the entire table on fire."
Laughter again as down below, Sam blushed.
"I suppose it wasn't him then. Unless she looked slightly charred to you."
"Were her eyebrows still there? He took off one of mine with the explosion."
And everyone laughed.
Sam curled up into the corner, feeling cold and lost and barely sane. He wanted Lucien. He wanted to be free. More than anything he wanted his voice.
Though he couldn't help but wonder what a voice without an owner looked like.
Concentrate on the matter at hand.
Amazing. A voice in his head and it was actually his own. An honest to gods thought.
"Brilliant," he muttered to himself, slowing picking his way from the ground. He knew he shouldn't explore too far. He had to be here to meet Lucien. But there was no harm in seeing if he could get out.
Even if all he wanted was to sleep.
