Chapter 16: Thinking of You

Nim awoke in Vicente's chambers and found them empty save the ghost of rancid wine and stomach acid lingering in the air. Immediately, she noticed she had changed out of her evening gown sometime the previous night as she was now dressed in a soft, oversized shirt likely belonging to the vampire himself. She sat up slowly, testing for signs of persistent inebriation or an incipient hangover but found herself relatively symptomless save for a spotty memory of the night before. Walking sluggishly to the wash basin, Nim had just enough time to splash her face and fool herself into a false sense of security before the pounding in her head began with deep resounding throbs. Son of a mudcrab, she cursed and immediately wished for death.

Seeking out her alchemical equipment and a tall glass of water, Nim hobbled out of the room and up toward the main living quarters with her aching head held steady by her hand. Ocheeva, Tienaava, and Telandril sat in the nearby reading nook sipping tea and quietly chatting. They offered Nim a chorus of 'Good Mornings' and stifled giggles as she passed them to which she responded with a pathetic groan as she leaned against the heavy wooden doors and slipped inside. In the living quarters, Gogron snored loudly from his bed. Nim eyed him curiously, his hulking body far too wide for the narrow bedframe, before she began scrounging through her chest and the now sparse pantries for ingredients she could make use of.

Nim sat still at the dining table with her equipment splayed out before her. She rested her head in her palms as she scrutinized the available ingredients and their properties. Without any sound being made to give away the presence of another in the room, an orange blur crept into her periphery and she glanced up to see M'raaj-Dar clad in only a bath towel as he made his way from the bathroom toward his bed.

The Khajiit moved so silently across the room that Nim would have found it unsettling had she not been distracted by the flexion of his thigh muscles peeking out below the towel. The lack of a scowl marring his face as he gathered a change of clothes from his trunk confirmed that he hadn't yet seen her. She held her breath and watched as he calmly ran his hand over his head, tousling the long hair that grew there. Even through his fur she could see the sharp outline of the muscles lining his abdomen as he stretched his arms upwards to slip on his shirt, the towel around his waist dipping ever so slightly below his hips. Nim, having completely forgotten her task at hand, gawked openly at the display.

"What are you staring at?" M'raaj-Dar hissed, his idle smile quickly falling to a glower as he caught her prying eye.

"Oh nothing. Nothing, I see nothing," she stuttered in panic. "I didn't hear you come in, that's all. I just looked up once, and there you were, haha. Just in a towel and me here with my alchem-"

"I didn't ask for a novel about your mundane little life," he spat and gathered his clothing into his arms. "I feel filthier having just breathed the same air as you, and now I must shower again to rid myself of your presence."

Nim sighed loudly as she watched him leave with a slam loud enough to rival Gorgron's snores. She returned to her ingredients and had just begun chopping when she heard the sound of the living quarter door creak open. Instinctively, her heart leapt into her throat, imagining the Khajiit returning to berate her once more. Oh, but he looked so handsome when he insulted her. She hardly minded at all.

The Bosmer looked up briefly to spy Antoinetta scurrying in, still dressed in the lacy blue ensemble she wore to the party yesterday. The Breton woman met Nim's eye with a flustered, rosy-cheeked smile and she began to pull a new set of clothing from the chest at the foot of the bed.

"Hey," Nim called softly so as to not awaken the slumbering Orc nearby. She had an inkling, however, that the Orc would be much harder to rouse than to keep asleep.

"Hey, you. Whatcha brewing," Antoinetta slipped the sleeves of her blue gown down passed her shoulders and began to undress freely beside her bed.

Out of respect for her privacy, especially given the encounter of minutes prior, Nim glanced away but not before catching sight of the trail of purple blotches that marred the Breton's decollate and travelled down the length of her ribs. Even in her hindered state, Nim could put the pieces together. She worried the inside of her cheek as she kept from commenting on the colorful display and just how Antoinetta had acquired them.

"Hopefully an emetic that will flush the rest of this toxin out of my system," she sighed, "and then a restore fatigue potion. If not that then something that will put me back to sleep at least. I can't believe how much I drank last night." The very mention of the activity made her stomach turn.

"That bad, huh?" Antoinetta offered a sympathetic frown and tugged a tight cotton shirt over her head and down her waist. She sat cross-legged on her bed, her fingers toying with the teeth of her ivory comb as she spoke. "Well that just means you had real fun. Let loose, right? Now you can stop acting like we're all humorless savages."

"No, last night I felt like the embodiment of refinement and social grace as I passed out on Vicente's floor." Nim took a much needed sip of water and then ran her hand up her forehead and down her temples. She squeezed her eyes closed as a wave of nausea passed. "I don't even know how I wound up there."

Antoinetta laughed heartily and combed through her short hair. "It happens to all of us at some point. But you looked real nice though. You know, it wouldn't kill you to clean up more often or at the very least to be less phlegmatic all of the time."

Nim's chuckle hoarsened into a groan as the pounding against her frontal bones grew heavier and heavier. "I'm so hungover Antoinetta, if you want emotion and feeling, all you're going to get from me is revulsion and nausea."

The girls fell quiet as they carried on with their tasks, Antoinetta with readying herself for the day and Nim with preparing the remaining ingredients for her potion. Nim looked up occasionally as she drank her water, and each time she did so she glimpsed more bruises decorating Antoinetta's skin. The woman didn't seem pained, humming merrily to herself as she combed, and Nim accepted that if Lucien had delivered them he must have done so with permission. It was a much brighter conclusion than the alternative.

"So, what did you think of the visiting speakers?" Antoinetta asked as she pulled on a pair of trousers and laced the ties at her waist. "You seemed awfully close to Bellamont by the end of the evening."

"Meh," Nim shrugged, ignoring the playful spirit dancing in Antoinetta's voice as she reached the end of her sentence. "I can't say much about them, can I? Except maybe that they're a nosy lot with intense eyes, but that describes nearly everyone here. Mathieu, well-" she paused to drop a handful of crushed fennel seeds into her calcinator and recalled their intimate conversation on the roof. His forlorn spirit and dark humor enticed her in the morbid way that hopeless things do. His predatory smirks and questionable fixture with Lucien, less so.

"I like him," she admitted. "Or I think I do. I don't dislike him. That's nearly the same thing."

The blonde woman quirked the corner of her lips and sighed. "You're awfully funny, Sister. Always so wary. It's not a sin to find companionship with another member of our family, you know."

"Companionship, huh?" And the Breton froze briefly beneath Nim's skeptical stare before returning her attention to straightening the fabric of her pants. "I already have friends here. We're friends, aren't we?"

Antoinetta nodded enthusiastically, a little too enthusiastically.

"Besides," Nim continued. "being cautious is no sin either. Especially if these rumors are true. I had to learn about the recent killings from Mathieu, you know. No one in the Sanctuary told me anything about it."

Antoinetta bit her bottom lip and leaned back on her arms. "I don't think it is supposed to be common knowledge. We still don't know much about the murders ourselves. How do we know we aren't being hunted down by outside forces?"

"Like who? The Imperial Legion? The Morag Tong?" Nim inquired casually despite her burning hope that Antoinetta had something juicier to offer up regarding the whole ordeal. Everyone in the family was so tight-lipped about these specific murderers, and she couldn't for the life of her understand why given they never seemed to shut up about the damn subject. She sliced the skin off a few aloe vera leaves and mashed them gently in her mortar, ears perked and waiting.

The Breton shrugged nonchalantly, much to Nim's disappointment, and began to work her hair into two plaits. "Maybe. All I know is the Black Hand are working hard to track down the culprit. Plans are in motion, and we should trust their leadership."

Nim looked up quickly, meeting the Breton's eyes as she struggled to knot her ribbon. "A plan, yeah? How can you be so sure?"

"Oh um. I may have overheard a few things." Antoinetta cast her eyes down at her bed nervously and began to slip on a pair of wool socks.

Nim kept her eye trained on the fidgety woman, watching as she scratched at the skin behind her ear. "Did Lucien tell you?"

"Well, yes, and I think our Speaker is doing everything in his power to keep our family safe."

"I just hope he is as competent as I've been told if we're all trusting him with our safety." She shrugged and transferred the contents of her mortar to her glass alembic.

"He is," Antoinetta blurted out, almost defensively, and Nim swore she could see a faint blush rise in the woman's cheeks. "You wouldn't question him If you got to know him better."

The Bosmer peeked out of the corner of her eyes and smirked. "Oh? And what would I think of him if I got to know him as well as you?"

Antoinetta froze, the pink color of her face swiftly turning a bright red. "Wha- just what do you mean by that?"

"It's not a secret, is it?" She asked with a chuckle. "The two of you."

Antoinetta stared open-mouthed and flustered, her face burning bright as she struggled to form a response.

"Well if it is a secret, you're not terribly subtle. I know what I saw last night. You don't mean to tell me that was just business as usual?"

"What I do with our Speaker is none of yours anyway," she huffed, grabbing her boots off the floor by the laces and making for the door.

"Antoinetta, I was just being crass," Nim called out. "I didn't mean anything by it other than to make a joke."

But the woman had already departed for the main hall with a violent slam of the door, the second one that morning.

Nim lay half-asleep in the living quarters accompanied only by the resonant snorts of the slumbering orc down the row of beds. With her eyes closed, her mind wandered to more scenic vistas, thoughts of fresh ocean breeze and the radiating sun against her skin as she dug her feet into the shore of the Abeacean Sea. She thought of Raminus. His eyes like summer moss framed by the charcoal of his hair. The gentle curl of his lips in that nervous smile whenever she got too close, and how only Dibella could understand the longing with which she knew them. As Raminus faded from her mind's eye, images of M'raaj-Dar's naked form surfaced hazily into view, and in her dreams he offered her a warm smile. He laughed buoyantly and he gazed deeply at her, into her. He reached for her with his broad arms and for a moment, she thought she felt his hand against her, wrapping around her shoulder with a tender squeeze.

"M'raj-" Nim murmured through sleep before realizing she was actually being lightly shaken and threw her eyes open. She bolted up in bed nearly crashing into Lorise's chin. The woman looked down at her with cool blue eye and a cheeky grin that held back laughter.

"Blood of Akatosh, Lorise. I nearly had a coronary."

"Sorry," the woman whispered. "I thought I heard you mumbling. I came to see if you were awake."

"I am now. Did you… hear anything I said?"

"I did," Lorise replied and chewed her lip. "I'll keep it a secret though. Feeling any better? You were out cold after booting last night."

"Oh, holy hell," Nim groaned. "You saw it, did you?"

"I took care of you last night," the older Bosmer admitted. "Don't worry about the dress, by the way. I'm having it washed and will return it to Ocheeva this evening."

"Oh, Lorise, I'm so sorry you had to do that. I knew I made a fool out of myself."

Lorise shrugged. "Don't think about it then. Are you hungry? I just came back from shopping."

Aside from some soreness in her abdominal muscles, Nim found that the potions had performed their desired effect and restored her to subpar levels of vigor. She hopped out of bed free from her hangover and absolutely ravenous. Lorise stood at the nearby table pulling groceries from an array of canvas bags and Nim approached ready to offer assistance and sneak a few bites of the rather supple grapes that sat in a clay bowl.

"Here I'll put some of these away," Nim said, plopping a handful of the fruit into her mouth and picking up a sack of potatoes.

"No, let me. You sit. I'll get you whatever you want."

"I need to move around after all that sleeping I did. It's the least I could do after last night."

"Well okay, the dry goods go in the upper cabinet."

Nim shoved the bag of potatoes behind a sack of rice and focused on rearranging the neighboring cabinet of milled grains to fit another bag of flour. "Listen," she began "I hate being a busybody but is there something weird going on between-"

"Antoinetta and Lucien?" Lorise interrupted with a sparkle growing in those azure eyes. "Yes, by Sithis, I was wondering when you were going to bring it up. Vicente was supposed to tell you all about it but, that's what I get for trusting-"

"I was actually going to ask about our Speaker's relationship with Mathieu." Nim knew just what was going on between Antoinetta and Lucien. She had seen it first-hand, and if there was any question doubt regarding last night, her conversation with the Breton had surely put them to rest. What more could possibly be said?

"Mathieu and Lucien?" The older woman let out a hearty laugh as she threw her head back. "Of all the toxic relationships Lucien is involved in, you ask about Bellamont. You sweet little thing."

"I just got the sense that there was history there. He seemed alright when we were talking by ourselves, but then we ran into Lucien and it was like a lever had flipped. He became oddly competitive, kind of like a younger brother that needed to prove himself or something."

"I suppose that's not too far off the correct interpretation," Lorise began. "Lucien acted as a mentor to Mathieu when he first joined. He was young, younger than you even, when he was recruited, and I think he's always felt a spirit of competition between them as he rose in rank. Mathieu's very ambitious. He's the youngest member of the Black Hand. But it's nothing more than a friendly sibling rivalry I'd imagine. "

"Oh, I suppose that makes sense." Though Nim certainly did not agree with Mathieu needing to insert her into whatever competition they had.

Lorise eyed the small Bosmer suspiciously as she folded the canvas bags and set them on the able. "What happened that made you bring it up?"

"It was nothing," Nim assured her.

After all the groceries had been stored away, the two women sat at the table sharing the bowl of grapes between them and idly chatting about forthcoming plans for departing the Sanctuary. Lorise had an upcoming battle at the Arena with a yellow team combatant who had challenged her title. She spoke of the match serenely, longingly as though discussing plans for an overdue vacation. Nim wished her luck, to which the older Bosmer replied thanks but I don't need it and Nim felt a wave of awe wash over her.

Nim planned to take her leave for Fort Sutch that very evening and expressed great relief at hitting the roads and open air once more.

"It feels like I've been down here for a month," she said, clearing her throat and taking a sip of water." I swear my trachea is growing mold. I must be allergic. Say, for all the time you spend in the Arena, why don't you have a house in the Imperial City?"

"It's too far away from Vicente," Lorise confessed, a coy smile playing on her lips at the very mention of her lover's name. "Plus, I'm not much of a city girl. It's dirty there, streets are too narrow and far too crowded. And its loud."

Nim paused, allowing time to appreciate the fact that they were sitting in a basement with stagnant water and a cramped bedroom space while a nearby Orc snored as though he were Death's personal war drum.

"Aye, it is all those things," Nim agreed. "I bet you have enough money to live in the glamorous parts though."

"Eh," the older woman shrugged. "Glamour doesn't suit me much either. What about you, get to the City much?"

"I used to, lived there too for a bit. I had big city dreams just like any other orphan would, but the city was so much larger in my head. I liked it there though. Plent of sights to see, pockets to pick. I learned quite a few valuable lessons. My time served a purpose, and I'd never trade it." Nim looked away from the elf briefly. She didn't speak much about her past with anyone and forgot how cathartic it could be, even when vague and generalized. "I don't see myself returning for permanent residence. They do have some lovely public gardens though."

"You said you lived there?" Lorise asked. "Waterfront, right?"

Nim straightened her back and met Lorise with a crooked, puzzled grin. "Yeah, how'd you know?"

"There are few places where a woman with no name can find safety and make a living when she turns up in the Imperial City with nothing," she replied with a knowing nod as she sipped her drink. "We're not so different you and I. Is Armand still doyen?"

Nim startled at the Redguard's name on her lips. In her mind, she had imagined Lorise was always successful, never scrounging in the gutters of the Waterfront for the remnants of yesterdays discarded meals. "Uh, yeah," she stammered. "He's doing just fine. Same stick up his ass, I'm sure."

Lorise chuckled and brought her glass to clink Nim's at the center of the table. "To Armand then, for never changing. I hope he's found a woman by now. He was awfully uptight when I knew him and I think it would do him good."

"He has actually." And Nim thought of Mehtredhel with a wistful pang that gnawed into her belly. Though she rarely admitted it, she thought often of that grimy little dwelling she inhabited with her fellow thieves. They were good to her, and she missed the late nights on the dock passing a ten-septim bottle of wine back and forth as they told scary stories and dared each other to skinny-dip in the city waterways and toxic sludge that rippled beneath their feet.

"My little sister always wanted to visit the Imperial City. I came there to honor her wishes, but I think she would have felt the same way as you." Lorise rested her elbows on the table and locked eyes with the Bosmer across from her. "You know, you remind me a lot of her, my little sister."

The words took Nim by surprise. She cocked her head slightly, her eyes growing wide "A murderous wood elf too, was she?"

"No," Lorise laughed. "at least not to my knowledge. She was the most loveable Bosmer you could have hoped to meet, but maybe I am biased. Quiet, but not shy. She knew when silence spoke louder than words, but when she spoke, she did with such conviction you would have believed the sky was purple if she said so. Everyone she met doted on her, and she didn't even have to try.

You even look like her. Same verdant green eyes the color of the forest surrounding our family home in Valenwood. And wild red hair, though hers was darker, like the bark of Mahogany. Yours is like fire."

Nim crossed an arm over her chest and scratched at her shoulder absentmindedly. "You speak as though she's no longer with us."

"Well, I don't know where she is. I haven't seen her in many years." Lorise's gaze dropped. She focused intently on the wheel of cheese in the center of the table. Nim sat in silence, unsure of whether to pry further into the subject.

"I'm sorry to hear that," she finally spoke and offered a weak, yet genuine condolence.

Lorise shrugged, a smile returning to her face and softening her eyes. They ate in comfortable stillness, and Nim let her busy mind race as she processed the events of the night before and planned for the tasks of tomorrow. Her thoughts kept travelling back to that morning and Antoinetta's volatile reaction to her attempt at conversation. Nim couldn't understand what had caused such a sudden flare and felt thoroughly unsettled knowing that the Breton was upset with her. The woman slept right next to Nim's bed for Gods' sake.

"What's on your mind," Lorise asked as she sliced into a wheel of goat cheese and offered Nim a wedge. "You're less obvious than Antoinetta, but you've got wandering eyes."

"I really shouldn't bring it up. I don't want to start any rumors."

"Well you absolutely must tell me now. After everything I did for you last night, why it's only fair." Lorise added a mischievous little grin as she crossed her arms over her chest and slouched against the back of her chair.

Nim's face softened into a worried frown. "But you can't tell anyone, please. I fear I've already upset Antoinetta enough."

Lorise raised her brows, the sparkling glint returning to her eyes. She leaned toward the center of the table. "Antoinetta?" she whispered. "So you saw them together, didn't you? Her and Lucien. Caught them in the act?"

Nim inhaled sharply. She leaned forward too and gave a small nod. "How did you know?"

"I mean, it's not exactly a groundbreaking discovery. I think everyone in the Sanctuary knows."

"I just- I knew she doted on him, but Lucien looked rather uninterested all night. I didn't think they were... an item. I made a joke about it today and I think I may have offended her."

"Hah, an item," Lorise chortled dismissively much to Nim's confusion. "I'm not sure what he did to be worthy of such idolatry. She is so sweet on him her teeth are bound to rot out."

"Well they do make ivory replacements these days so I suppose it's not the worst affliction one could have."

"Was it up on the second floor of the house? That's where I caught them last time."

"Yes, it was – hang on, why are these details important? We should respect her privacy. It was embarrassing enough that I walked in on her with Mathieu right next to me."

"Hah, Antoinetta lives for the voyeurism. She's positively tickled pink I'm certain of it. Don't worry about her, dear Sister. She's got a quick temper, but she never stays mad for long."

"Yeah? Maybe," Nim sighed, her breath heavy with doubt. "I often get this feeling that she doesn't much care for me. This is the second time she's snapped at something I've said, and I don't know, maybe I just don't understand her."

Lorise tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and slouched backwards. "Look, I love Antoinetta, but she's dreadfully insecure. You're both young and pretty and inspire Lucien's appetite. You can imagine why she suddenly doesn't feel very special anymore."

Nim choked back on her grape and hacked up a few seeds into her palm. "His appetite?" she asked as she set the seeds down on the table. "Lucien must be over twice my age. I do no such thing."

"And when has the stopped a man before? Vicente is ten times my age." Nim understood her point. Raminus was likely in the same age-range as Lucien, and it certainly hadn't prevented Nim's affection in the slightest. Lorise continued." Your humility is admirable, but yet another reason for her to envy you."

"I don't think I understand how Lucien plays into this," Nim shook her head and pouted.

"Did you see his… you know." The woman suppressed her growing grin by popping another grape into her mouth.

Nim responded with a slow recoil away from the table. "His what?"

Lorise bounced her brows a few times and bit her bottom lip. "You know. Don't act coy."

"No, I don't, and what are you doing with your eyebrows?"

"His…" she pointed both fingers toward her lap with a devilish smirk.

Nim feigned a gag and shook her head. "Stendarr have mercy upon you, Lorise. I did not."

"Well then Stendarr has mercy upon you too. What if they were going at it fully leafless and in the buff? I've heard them before. It's like a woodpecker drumming against the headboard. And Antoinetta's screams, Gods, if you thought her laugh was shrill-"

Nim threw up her hands and pressed them against the sides of her face. "This is too much for me. I just wanted to help unpack groceries and eat lunch. I shouldn't have said anything."

And with that, Lorise's loud cackle joined the chorus of Gorgon's thunderous breathing, adding note after shrill note to the cacophonous orchestra.

Nim was halfway up the ladder of the well exit when she heard Vicente call her name. She gazed up at the light seeping in through the iron grating with disheartened pining eyes. She inhaled the cool stream of air that flowed down toward her while the footsteps behind grew louder.

"Nimileth!" The man raced toward the broken stone and peered up at her with his pale, fretful eyes. "Are you leaving?"

"That was the intention," she replied with a low sigh and stared up at the sliver of sun that peeked out over the brim of the well.

"We should have a talk first. I promise you it won't be long."

Nim leapt down from the rungs of the ladder and faced the Vampire. "Is this about what happened last night? I know I drank too much, and I think I puked in your room, so let me say I am deeply sorry. Whatever punishment or repayment you think is-"

"Is that all you remember from last night?" He asked, his eyes bent and searching hers for any hint that she recalled her last moments with the Speaker.

"Umm, I guess I had a lot fun actually. Not the kind of fun I'm used, I'll give you that. There's a certain edge to drinking with a bunch of murderers that you just can't get outside of the Sanctuary." She offered Vicente a bright, toothy grin, hoping that he would be pleased with her uncharacteristically outgoing venture. To her disappointment, he met her with a small and crooked frown.

Vicente shook his head. "What about at the end of the night?"

"What about it?" Nim squinted, the concern in his voice lost on her. "I don't remember much after you left to see Mathieu home."

"You were speaking with Lucien. Do you remember that?"

"Yeah, vaguely," she shrugged a shoulder and shifted the weight of her pack. "I think we were talking about fruit. Or maybe trees."

His brows arched at her reply. "Trees? Are you sure?"

"Well, he was being nosy and awfully dull and eventually I fell asleep, so I don't imagine it was any more exciting than that."

"Nim," Vicente lowered his voice and peered around them at the sparsely occupied main hall. "I'm afraid Lucien has taken an interest in you that isn't entirely professional."

Nim rolled her eyes so hard they nearly popped out of her skull. "First Lorise and now you. I thought we had this discussion already."

"No, Nimileth please let me finish. Come, let us speak in my quarters."

Thoroughly irritated by the increasing amount of lost time in her day, Nim shuffled alongside the Executioner with a soured expression and tried not to huff. Vicente locked the door behind him as she found her seat at his small dining table in the center of the room.

"Okay, I'm all ears." The sarcasm thickened in her throat.

Vicente took his seat across from her and shifted the chair as close to the table as possible. He interlocked his finger and rested them on the table as he straightened his back. Nim raised her eyes to meet him, annoyed and growing increasingly perplexed by the persistence of his solemn expression.

"Lucien is preying on you," he stated bluntly. "When I came upon you last night, you were unconscious, and Lucien was trying to kiss you. I wish I could say there was a shadow of doubt in my mind as to his intentions but there is none. He said he was going to do terrible things to you. You told me that."

Nim's shoulders fell inch by inch as she stared dumbstruck at Vicente. "I… said that?"

"You laughed about it. I don't think you understood what he meant in your state. He has a history of this kind of behavior. I've seen it many times within these very walls. With Aventina, with Antoinetta, even Lorise. "

She found herself unable to produce more than a few syllables at a time as her mind caught up to Vicente's words and the meaning behind them. Her sluggish brain left her tongue-tied. "You have?"

He nodded grimly and watched as her face contorted from a scowl to a grimace and back to a bewildered pout.

"I'm so confused," she drawled. "I saw him with Antoinetta last night. They were…." She shook her head and Vicente knew what she had seen. Nim took a deep breath and rubbed imaginary grime away from her cheek. "Just what do you mean 'this kind of behavior,' and what does this have to do with me?"

"There is something you need to understand about how Lucien operates. He is a predator, first and foremost, and he often looks for weak prey. Young women with no home to run back to, broken, lost, and easily molded."

"I am none of those things," she hissed.

Vicente tucked stray lock of hair over his ear and rested his elbows on the table. His eyes softened as he watched Nim grow more and more rigid in her seat. She hadn't looked this uncomfortable around him since the day they met.

"I know that, but Lucien sees whatever he wants. Let me tell you a story about his last Silencer, Aventina Attius. Lucien recruited her when she was about your age." Nim raised an eyebrow and he paused to explain. "It's not a rare thing at all for a young orphan to join our ranks. Yes, you're hardly the first. Aventina came from a fragmented home, alcoholic father with a gambling problem, abusive mother. You know the type. She murdered her own parents just to be free from them. When she accepted our invitation, Lucien showered her with affection and the poor thing, she thought she had found real love at last. She did anything to hold on to it, anything he asked of her. If our Speaker said jump, Aventina said how high. It didn't even need to be a contract. If Lucien asked her to, she'd kill on command without reason or remorse just so she could see his smile."

But it wasn't enough for Lucien. Nothing is ever enough for him. He continued to send her on contracts that no one in their rational mind would assign to her. Aventina was blood-crazed and enthusiastic but she was novice in her execution at best. She was returning from her contracts beaten and nearly incapacitated when Ocheeva and I begged Lucien to relinquish her from her role as Silencer. Yet each task he gave her was riskier and more twisted than the last. He told her that these were tests of her loyalty, and as long as he was there to kiss her wounds when she returned, she'd go out and kill for his pleasure again. Lucien knew she wasn't skilled enough. He knew." Vicente clenched his jaw tightly and a small vein raised along the length of his temple. He hadn't realized how angry he had become until he noticed the small bosmer in front of him attempting to challenge his level of heightened emotion with her lack of it. "Can you guess where Aventina is now?"

Nim held the man's icy glare, offering a tiny nod that was barely perceptible, even to Vicente.

"She's dead, Nimileth. Lucien smiled at her wake as though he never knew her."

"But she was Family. I didn't think him capable of-"

"Of what? Of murder?" Vicente scoffed harshly, and Nim recoiled from the sting of his tone.

"I thought the tenets prevented us from hurting one another."

"Lucien didn't strike her down. He placed her at Sithis' door. She entered willingly."

"And Antoinetta?" She asked, a concern rising in her voice. Vicente took this to mean that she had begun to understand his warning.

"Antionetta is a lost cause, very much the same. Rescued from the sewer within an inch of her life by a handsome man with the promise of love and acceptance. She adores him. She wants to please him. His interest didn't last longer than a few months. I'm afraid she'll never know how lucky she is."

"But I saw-"

"What you saw was Lucien sating his base needs. He knows that Antoinetta will always offer herself up to him. Like I said, Lucien is a predator. He lives for the hunt. When the chase is up and there's no sport left in it, he grows bored. Why do you think he would so willingly throw Aventina away? Because she gave him everything. She gave him every part of herself until there was nothing left for Lucien to take."

Nim was silent as she processed the horrific details of the Speaker's affairs. Vicente sat like a stone.

"And Lorise?" she asked "She's nothing like you described. I can't imagine her ever being interested in a man like Lucien."

"No, Lorise was a novelty. She's Grand Champion of the Arena, how could she not be? She already had a life outside of the Dark Brotherhood and in it she was an epitome of success. Unlike the other women Lucien had recruited, she didn't need him to put any pieces back together, and so he thought of her like she was a prized possession he could win. Like a trophy. But none of his tricks worked on her, his gifts and advances all rejected. Her utter disinterest drove him mad. Overtime, the two of us grew close, eventually romantically so. He's an envious man, our Speaker. You wouldn't think so unless you saw it first hand, and it doesn't happen often. I think our relationship pushed Lucien over the edge of his obsession. Lorise told me that Lucien had followed her home on numerous occasions. One evening, he stole into her house and- well Lorise never explicitly stated as such, but I think he made an attempt to force himself onto her."

"What did you do when you found out?" Nim's voice quirked and she cleared her throat quickly.

"I thought I was going to kill him, I was so enraged. I met him at his home and threatened to invoke the Wrath of Sithis if he ever laid hands on her again. He never has again, as far as I know."

They didn't speak for some time. Nim's shoulders had stiffened significantly as the quiet between them progressed. She clutched them in her spindly arms, crossed over her chest and squeezing tightly. Vicente watched the play of light from the overhanging brazier as it bounced off her widened, glazed eyes.

"I don't mean to scare you," He began, his voice breathy and low. "I only-"

"I'm not scared," she insisted.

Vicente nodded.

"I only mean to let you know what he's capable of. I saw hunger in his eyes last night. He's thinking of you, Nim. In horrible ways."

"Well…" she paused. "What do I do about it, Vicente? I'm not interested in him. I never was, and I don't see how I'll be spending much more time with him in the future."

"I know, but we can never be sure what awaits you."

He bit his tongue and did not mention his conversation with Lorise, how she suspected Lucien wished to make Nim his Silencer. If it was true, it would only be a short matter of time, and Vicente was not ready to accept that fate.