Author's notes: Wow, I just wanted to say thank you all for the reviews. Seeing as this is not a generic retelling of the Dark Brotherhood quest line I never expected to get this many ^^ I'm always happy to get a review for each chapter to let me know how I'm doing, but I never thought I would get several reviews every post. So again thanks!

And those who voted for the Band-Aid, this is for you! XD (She gets the next best thing)

Love or Blood

Chapter eleven: Quick Fix

XXXX

Janus slowly walked over to his maid. He could hear her loud worried breaths and feel her little lungs strain each time she tried to silence them. He pitied her. She was absolutely terrified, so much so that she did not move. The Count did his best to quiet his steps, but at the same time, he tried to make his approach known and obvious. He didn't want the girl to think he was sneaking up on her.

Once he stood at her side she held her breath, her body froze as if his gaze on her back turned her to stone. It would not have surprised him at all if she had by chance immobilized herself permanently. She had, after all, almost turned herself into a mute.

As he looked down at her, he could not help but to wonder what she would do if all he did were stand there, unmoving and silent. Most people would feel a bit intimidated by his presence, more so if that person were losing a sufficient amount of blood at the time. So for a moment he was tempted to simply stand and watch her, to let her fall into a panic from his prolonged 'attack' and flee. Contrariwise, he was no monster and did not like to stimulate fear, nor did he want to make another run just so he could chase them. Although the idea to just observe her horror induced actions was tempting he quickly lost interest in it once she turned her head to face him.

"I'm sorry." He heard her say in a tiny breath.

In truth, he was not all himself and had barley registered her words. That sweet aroma was clouding the air around her and made him want to inhale deeply just to keep it inside his chest -- even if it made him feel a bit dizzy. But he had enough of his wits about him to wonder, humorlessly: how many people apologize when they have no reason to, and while losing critical amounts of blood no less? Only her it seems, only his foolish maid. Furthermore, how many people bleed in front of a vampire and apologize to him? It was unheard of. And while it made him want to role his eyes and shake his head it also made him want to give an apologetic frown, strictly out of compassion.

She had wrapped up her wounded hand in her now gleaming, crimson, apron. Holding her other shaking one over the bundle protectively, she looked back up and continued to mouth and stutter softly but incoherently. All the Count could do was try his best to not hear her thumping heart, to ignore the pleasant fragrance, and to just keep from taking in the sight before him, which was turning out to be a more difficult task than he had expected.

She whimpered, but whether it was directed at the discomfort from her wound or from the looming vampire was a up for speculation. Either way, he was staring hard again and needed to stop. His gaze shifted from the blood to her face and locked with her eyes, something he had intentionally done, it was hard to pry his stare away from those pretty orbs.

"Let me see." He commanded in the softest tone one could muster. Janus watched her bite her lip, dully noting how she never actually chewed on it but pinched it between her two front teeth. In turn, she eyed him as well. The girl watched him with a fathomless gaze as she slowly unwrapped her hand, dawdling the best she could; carefully removing each layer of tightly wound cloth. It was almost done in a taunting manner, and it took much composure on the Counts part to keep from ripping back her makeshift dressing just to see it himself.

Finally, after a painstakingly long time, she had removed the dressings and pulled them back enough so her palm was again visible. Gripping her shaky wrist, she held her hand out to him, but not very far. To get a better look Janus slightly crouched down beside her, trying to ignore the way she leaned away from him. He could not scold her for such an act because it was an instinct to protect herself. For a girl in such distress she was handling the situation rather nicely. Even if scared, she was ever compliant. However, that could have been the result of his unnaturally hard, authoritarian look. Either way he was grateful, he could not express how relieved he was that she was not putting up a fuss. He may have at first wanted to see her struggle or run earlier for his own…carnality, but now looking at the extent of the wound he was very happy indeed that he choose not to.

He actually had to hold back a wince at first glance of it, it looked painful, yet she was barley fidgeting -- no more than usual in any case. Nevertheless, it and she had quickly captivated Janus. She was so still, so well behaved, so good. And her blood was dark and rich, it pooled in her palm neatly. He licked his lips quickly as he struggled for words, barley able to pull his eyes away from her little hands. Crouching beside her and being so close to fresh blood may not have been the brightest of ideas, but he had no choice to.

In a feeble attempt to recollect himself, he stared again blankly at her face, hoping it would in someway help keep the blood out of the darker corners of his mind. But to his astonishment it did not, it made it worse. He had not realized how close they had become; their faces were little more than a foot apart, despite her leaning back as far as she could. At this proximity he could not keep from noticing her little button nose, rosebud shaped mouth, and by far the most pretty, yet pitiful expression he had ever seen. But those eyes were certainly the kicker; big and glazed with confusion and fear.

Poor thing. Pretty thing…

He pulled back.

"It needs to be healed." He exhorted wearily as he got to his feet, "Come with me." As the Count turned his back to walk away, he listened carefully for her to stand, keeping his ears perked incase she became unsteady over blood loss. To his surprise though, he only heard her feet shuffle once. While she regained her bearings Janus swiped a cloth from his desk and handed it to her. She quickly rewrapped her hand much faster then she unwrapped it earlier...

Janus was making his way to the door, expecting her to follow, when he heard her call to him softly. Always softly, "S-sir?" For some reason her voice reminded him of water. Like a little silent stream: clean, pure and clear. Sometimes like a babbling brook when she stuttered or struggled. Irrespectively, he envisioned crystal, calm waters whenever she spoke. Such a pity she did not speak more often, he would consider having her read to him. Perhaps that could snap her back into more fluent speech. And even if it didn't he could still benefit off it. He found nothing wrong with exploiting her pretty voice; it would possibly do her some good in the end anyway.

At her plea he turned again to face her, and what a strange vision she was now. Having just torn himself away from his mental images of crystal waters, cooing doves, and gentle reading, it was a shocker to see her present state: now whiter than he, blood stained skirts, and sporting a bundled up hand, while shifting awkwardly from one foot to the next. But stranger still…blood or not, he found the girl in the middle of his room calling back to him quite becoming. "There is no need for healing." She insisted, "I don't…I'll be fine."

He shook his head, ignoring the imploring look on her face, and eased open the door. "No, you are hurt. Now come here."

To his utmost astonishment, for the first time she did not immediately follow. She shook her head and took a small, timid, step back like a cowering puppy. He watched her gulp, her lips press, and the way she nervously stroked her arm, his brow slowly furrowing all the while -- this though, she did not yet notice.

Whatever she was considering saying, she was giving it some thought. The Count had to wonder if she was afraid of healers. In his mind, she was wasting time, and her precious blood had now thoroughly stained her shirt. At that a feeling of possession overtook him, something keenly resembling ownership. Naturally he blamed the blood, but the idea of her getting hurt --especially by her own minute stubbornness -- would not even properly register in his head. It made him angry.

"I'll live." She answered cautiously. The girl was not being feisty, but almost testing the waters of severity. She wanted to leave his presence and he could not blame her, but he did not like the gesture and took it as sass.

"Not for long if you disobey me." He snapped and flung the door open wider. She jumped as it banged loudly against the outer walls. Her big eyes flashed from the door, to him, then in defeated embarrassment, to the floor. She looked at him as one would a master whom threatened to throw them over his knee. The hurt, the degradation…he had wounded her tiny pride. As he expected she hid it well; she swallowed hard and made her way forward regardless.

For a moment he glowered at her form: her attempt at composure with a shaking body, quivering bottom lip, and hunched shoulders. He could not help but to be angry, being in such close reach of something he wanted but not allowed to take it was more than enough to make a Count angry. More so since said Count had once been a very spoilt child. But deep down he did admire her. It did take willpower to approach him in such a state. But what did he like more: her willful strength, or forced composure? Perhaps it boiled down to discipline?

He was not sure what it was, but it made his snarl vanish, and actually made him a bit embarrassed himself for having bared fangs at the quaking child. She only meant to protest. In addition, her reason for 'rejecting' him was probably that she wanted to save him the trouble in the first place.

That was one thing the Count did appreciate; she was considerate. Thus, he was tempted to apologize once she was at his side with glassy eyes.

But was it her fear of death that made her eyes brim with tears? The hurt from her hand? Or knowing that she could never again say anything against a command? His face when she had kindly refused him must have given her the impression that he would backhand her if she said no ever again. He certainly did not mean to give off that, it just happened. One could not tempt a vampire with blood without there being some emotional turmoil -- he would admit that.

And he would apologize…but not yet.

xxxx

Awful, horrible, mean and cruel. Was it so hard to understand that I had not meant to insult him? I refused only because I wanted to heal myself, it is one of the only things I can do properly. I could weep, I want to weep, tears are already in my eyes and at my disposal but I refuse to cry. It will only worsen things if I do.

Why was I cursed with carelessness when it came to my own well-being? I can take care of the sick, of babies, and animals, but not myself. I would let my body rot if I was any less attentive! Half the time I do not know what to do with myself, I confuse my own needs. However, I can fix myself -- maybe not with magic, but my body heals, and moreover my mind heals. I always fix myself thanks to nature. I don't need spells or potions, just time to tend to my wounds privately. I need to be alone. But oh, he is so mad at me now. He wouldn't let me leave even if I groveled, he would force me to stay out of spite.

But this is my own entire fault.

If I just paid attention to my present self, even for a split second none of this would have happened, this confusing episode would cease to be. No matter how hard I try, I just cannot do it. Now I am to pay the price.

I blame myself for his anger, as I should. But I am ever so grateful that he is…him, I suppose. The Count has not hurt me or touched me at all, out of anger or otherwise. I cannot imagine what he is going through right now.

His face looks a bit strained so I think I might be a hunger impulse, or just stepping on his toes for disrupting his work. Either way I am just glad he has not physically hurt me…his words are a bit cruel. He almost yelled. His eyes had been narrowed and his upper lip curled back when he told me, basically 'obey me or perish.' Perish indeed, such a scary face.

To be completely honest though I knew he wouldn't hurt me. I feared his anger of course, I am still uneasy as I follow him down the corridor now. But I just could not imagine him ever harming me out of bloodlust. It is more than uncomfortable to be around him when you're bleeding though. In the few short minutes that he was next to me on the floor, I quickly realized he has no sense of personal space when not in his right mind. I had almost gone cross-eyed at him once he leaned in so close. He kept tilting his head to the side as if curiously analyzing me. I felt like I was under a looking glass. It was very unpleasant. I know what its like to be evaluated by others, and I don't like it, but this was a strange inspection he gave me.

Maybe it was the way he kept slowly inclining his head to the side, maybe it was the way his eyes seemed to flash, or the way he seemed to mindlessly come closer whenever I leaned back. I did not take the gesture as threatening. Quite the opposite actually, I think he was showing me -- by demonstration -- his self-control.

He is a strange man, a civilized man. But regardless I have unintentionally insulted him. 'I'll live.' what an awful thing to say to a vampire! I did not mean to mock him, I truly did not. I will do anything to earn his forgiveness.

And I will apologize…but not yet.

XXXX

With his maid in tow, he entered the study, more or less bitterly. He was quite gloomy and had every reason to be, but the current most distressing thing -- besides her still spilling lifeblood and the fact he almost made her cry -- was the girls face. It was for that very reason why hew kept his pace a bit quicker than hers, to keep her from his view. He was substantially taller than her; his long legs made this task simple, and even though it was easy to get away from her it was harder still to keep himself from looking back. How this girls face was torturing him. For obvious reasons the Count did not like to admit it, but he had never seen a face like hers…she was sopretty!

It was appalling how he: a vampire, would much rather grab her face to simply stare fixedly at it rather than get a hold of her injury.

He kept thinking about that little nose, defined high-arched brows, elegant chin, those elongated rosebud-shaped lips, and her sweetly full cheeks…and had he less decency he might have turned abruptly to pinch them. It was madness.

There was nothing wrong with acknowledging her being pretty -- or so he told himself, but never before had he heard of, never mind known a beautiful girl who wasn't either chatty, snobby, or stupid. His Rona had been in the 'snobby' department…how he missed her glares.

To him she was a strange breed. A conundrum of sorts. But a quiet one.

XXXX

She stood behind him shifting as he looked through the various potions on his desk. From what he saw of the cut he decided that a stronger potion was needed. It was more of a laceration rather than a puncture wound. In other words, her skin needed repairing and not much else.

In moments, he found the bottle that would do just that and handed it to her. She took it with fumbling fingers and eyed him all the while with new apprehension that made him feel almost insecure. It was suspicion that gleamed in her eyes as she toyed with the little glass bottle. He did not like the look especially when it was directed at him. It was as if she was trying to look through him and find any alternative motives. Her glare made him strangely uneasy, so he defensively rebuked.

"Do not make me force you to drink it."

Her eyes fell from his face. The Count gave a quiet sigh of relief at this and watched her attempt to uncork the bottle. Attempt and succeed. She put the glass bottle in the crook of her elbow and gently tugged at the cork with two slender fingers. With the stopper off and rolling in her palm, he expected her to down the potion, but she did not, she had to be difficult.

She began to make quite the show of peering into the bottle, swirling around the contents, and continuing to give him discrete -- but still suspicious -- glances. In that brief amount of time Janus had come to the conclusion that this girl was paranoid. What a shock...

"W-what is it sir?"

And possibly stupid.

"Good Gods." He murmured taking a step toward her. To his astonishment the girl jumped back, nearly toppling over a little end table, and held the bottle up as though she had a mind to smash it, her eyes darting from him to the door.

"Girl?!" He shouted imploringly with a pained expression, his arms out and fingers splayed in front of him like he was strangling an invisible clone of her. He was astonished. She was overreacting in ways that he had never seen before. Janus wasn't really going to force her to drink it, it was meant as a figure of speech. Could she be that serious? What could posses someone to think that he would actually make good on such a barbaric threat?

"Please sir don't…don't be mad! I'm sorry, I just wanted to know what it was. It is a phobia or, or an instinct. I'm a phobia. I-I mean-"

The Count held up a hand to stop her, the other quickly flying to his temples. This entire ordeal was taking a lot out of him. To keep himself from stomping out in a fit he closed his eyes and forced his body to relax, and once he did finally speak again he used that controlled softness. "Breath alright? Just…take a deep breath hmm? Good. Now, you are loosing a lot of blood, I think we would both like that to stop. The potion will make that stop, I promise you. You're afraid of me, don't be." He looked at her, eyed her. She obviously thought he was going to pounce. Why else would she have braced herself against the table like that? "I won't hurt you."

She bit her lip and tightly nodded. After another moment of silence she finally brought the flask up to her trembling lips, stared blankly up at the ceiling, and drank. He turned away from her as she did, not wanting to watch her stupidly, and waited. Once he heard the little popping noise as she took the bottle from her mouth he knew it was safe to turn. She looked…dizzy.

It was a common side effect for such a strong potion, so he disregarded it. "Feeling better?" he asked as he absentmindedly strolled over and began taking the bloodied cloth off her; never touching her skin. "I feel…hazy." She lamented. He simply nodded and folded the cloth behind his back.

"Am I drugged?" She asked suddenly, nervously, turning to look at him with heavily lidded eyes.

It was like someone had blown a very loud whistle in his ear. This girl could make Glarthir look like a model citizen. Of course the potion obscured her thoughts and made her blunt, but it was still a significantly shocking question.

"No." He began uneasily. "This potion is strong you see. It mends you skin." He ran a finger just above her palm and now bluish, healing, wound. "The body goes into a weary state when undergoing such a drastic change. You're sleepy, not drugged." He kept his hand over hers, never touching. He liked her warmth.

"This is the first healing potion I ever drank." She admitted, her head nearly lolling forward.

"Then the side effects should be harsher then. You had better go to your rooms and get some sleep."

"But sir," She breathed, looking back up at him. "What…would you…have me do?" The Count realized he was again bearing down upon her. He didn't even know he was moving until he was inches away from her face. Blood had a magnetic pull to vampires, yet he did not feel the slightest press of his fangs. "I thought," She continued, "you…wanted me."

His lips pressed into a thin, almost invisible line, and he gulped down a mouthful of air -- which was rather unpleasant. He unsure why but her words had a strong impact. He felt unrealistically sleepy, but giddy, and wanted to smile. Janus assumed the sleepiness was simply caused by her warmth. The giddiness was probably made by the fact that he was helping his maid; it wasn't often he could help and be hands-on while doing it. Smiling though? Well besides the fact that she looked silly being nearly draped over his end table he could think of nothing.

The Count curtly nodded and took a small step back. "Indeed I do. You are a dutiful worker; a very good maid. I think it would be best though if you got some sleep."

And stopped being so damned jumpy. He added mentally.

XXXX

He listened intently to her bumble out of his manor. Janus felt a need to keep an ear out for her. She was tiny to him, it would be like letting a puppy run free in front of an Orcish marching band if he had coincided to let her roam without his watch. But long after she was gone and her breathing out of earshot he still found himself listening intently.

The dull, heavy, silence of the study was nearly stifling. Had it always been so quiet and calm? The Count was no fan of calamity, but without the recent havoc he realized how very quiet his home had become.

As he fingered the soiled cloth behind his back, he reminded himself of how much he enjoyed the stillness. The hush reserve of his home had always been, and always would be, a comfort -- chaos was overrated.

Yes, the calm was lovely, but the state he was left alone in was lovelier still. He closed his eyes and breathed in deep. The little Abigale Lynn had a very sweet smell that he was growing fond of. A mix of sweet pea and violets -- no doubt from her soap, but that mingled with the sent of her flesh, hair, and blood was enough to make any vampire feel like they smoked many heaps of Skooma. (1)

He would admit that growing such a liking to someone over his or her sent and jitters was slightly unsettling. Janus would have much liked to label her stupid, that way he would find her less unique. But he simply could not do that. No stupid person would stay put in front of a vampire while bleeding. Even fools know when to run. Then again he couldn't think of any smart people who would have allowed a vampire tend to their wounds. So what was the matter with that girl? And why did she fake her death?

Janus unfolded the bloodied cloth and stared blankly at it, still wondering. He doubted that she was as big of a mystery as he was making her out to be, but it was fun to solve a puzzle, even if a red-haired one.

It was only then did it finally click though, as the hot remaining fumes of blood drifted under his nose and his thoughts circled its bearer did he feel his fangs pressure. When ready to feed, fangs would push their way through the gum line and show to their full extent. He was surprised by this; usually they would stay in place for him and only come out fully when he had a neck in his hands or body in his grasp. Janus had been around other people's blood before and never did his fangs show -- not since he learned to control himself.

He reached up and massaged his mouth. The last time they had come out of their own accord was when he was only in his seventeenth year of vampirism. It was the almost physical pull of her blood that made him quickly toss the bloodied rag in a waste bin. There was something about it. It was that unnamable thing he had been looking for, and he found it. And he was angry, he was so bloody angry. Finally, he found that thing he wanted and it was in her. That simply was unfair.

No matter how outraged he had just become over this horrible incongruity, he stomped himself from truly grouching at it.

Life isn't fair, what makes death any different?

He cast one last sidelong look at the rag in the waste bin. Was he angry or distraught? Janus shook his head and left the room. What had played across his mind in that brief glance was strictly taboo. He would never do it, he was not an animal.

In effort to calm his sudden raging impulses down he would get himself a drink. He would read his mail, relax, and try his damnedest to keep from noticing the perfumed scent that still lingered in the air.

xxxx

By the time I reached our room stars were blinding my vision. I was so very tired and dizzy, much alike to when I was homeless, if you are without food and try to stand or even move quickly you will get lightheaded and possibly faint. But the potion made my body feel warm and relaxed, too relaxed. The Count commanded me to go to bed and sweet merciful deities I need to.

Being so disoriented I did not even bother to change. My shoes seemed to fall right off my feet and I collapsed onto my bed in a heap of tingling flesh.

Right before my eyes had closed, I outstretched my hand to look at it. I was repulsed. It, I, my clothes, were all caked in blood and most of my skin was a frightening purple color.

xxxx

"HELP! Help! Or gods Tualga look what he did!"

"Don't start that now! Lynn? Abby Lynn? Oh wake up sweetie --"

"I told you she was too pretty to be left alone with him, he can't control himself! Creature of the night he is! I told you! I told you!"

"Shut up! You melodramatic piece of sod!"

They were shouting straight in my ears. I wanted to sleep so badly that I could cry over this. Out of spite I didn't bother to groan or moan, or give them any sort of attention. I only muttered, "Let me sleep." and tried to roll over.

"She lives!" Tualga exclaimed. I was sluggish and again didn't respond. I listened to Rheena as she scuttled over to my bedside, I could easily recognize the shuffling of her tiny feet by now.

The noise and commotion wasn't unusual in our room. We are three different generations, and races, of woman. We are inclined to argue but never do our quarrels get physical. So I was used to the noise, just not the abrupt contact when I was roughly pulled upward into a sitting position and being shook. "Speak more to me Lynn, don't make me hit ya!" At this I opened my eyes to finally see what the commotion was about this time.

"What?" I practically whined. "Cant I sleep in for once? I want to sleep so very badly…"

"Sleep? Abby you can't sleep now. For goodness sake, you're covered in blood!"

"Blood?" I mumbled, and then it all came back. Whenever I think of blood, gold, or black hair, the Count always comes to my mind. When speaking of blood this time however, I thought of swords. "Oh…oh no." I quickly stood; gently forcing my way out of Tualga's worried grasp and began peeling of my stained apron. I was repulsed, I had slept in blood-stained linens, looking like death, and stayed that way only to be awoken by my pregnant friend. Irresponsible.

"I'm so sorry I didn't mean to scare you --"

"He bit you didn't he! Oh I knew this would happen!" Rheena shouted, placing her wrists to her temples and began her rapid babbly speech, something me and Tualga are both use to. "I swear I did! See, when I was five my grandmamma said I could see in the future! I knew my puppy would die when I was twelve, I saw my marriage to Verick in a dream, I could feel that he had shady business, I've seen you getting bit, and recently these giant hellish portals pooping up in a cornfield! And --"

"Will you kindly shut up?!" Tualga snapped, thankfully ending her rant. "Lynn ignore her, but tell me what happened. Did he? You know…I mean"

I shook my head, finally and efficiently, taking my apron off without getting anymore messy. "Gods no! He helped me. I-I had an accident, I cut my hand open and he fixed it." I began to hastily unbutton my shirt. I couldn't wait to take a long, hopefully interrupted bath. "He is so kind…Gods I cant believe I am so impossible to deal with. I pity him, keeping a fool like me. If he decides to throw me away I can't say I would blame him."

Rheena suddenly rounded on me. "No, no don't you say that! You're so sweet, if he'd ever lay a hand on you, I swear! Me and Tualga talk about it all the time. It's so curious, he's so curious. He must like you, why else would he want you near him all night? He's never done that before."

I was nearly in only my undergarments when she and Tualga quickly began fighting over the Counts honor. Maybe I don't know him well, maybe we're not social intimates, but does that matter? What I do know is that he is very sympathetic. That is my conclusion as why he is so nice to me, so I told them both this as I hurriedly left the room bathe.

My philosophy on this is quite easy: If a person finds a little kitten on their doorstep wouldn't they take it in? If they gave it milk and treated it kindly yet it still shied away from their hand wouldn't they question why? If a thorn got stuck in its paw wouldn't they pull it out, knowing that one day the kindness would be reciprocated?

This, I believe, is what the Count has been doing and will hopefully continue to do. One day I will give back whatever I can to him, I desperately want to show him my appreciation…one day I will.

xxxx

After two very hot baths I decided it was time for me to move before the Stewardess came knocking. Somehow she always knows when I'm in the tub and has shooed me out once before. It was quite embarrassing. Thankfully this time I heard her talking in our lunch/sitting/living area and emerged from the water with haste.

With a towel around my waist I left the stall, making my way over to the lone cracked-corner mirror to dry off. Its not that wish to look at myself, but the mirror is tucked away in the far-off corner of the bathing room, just as a precaution I'm away from the door incase any Argonians decide they want to push me out dripping wet in front of the butler. I had my towel handy that time, and as a further blessing on my part many Orcs are not interested in little soft Bretons such as myself.

I wiped down my arms, stomach, legs, and back without so much a disturbing knock. But once I brought the towel up to rub my hair down one final time I actually noticed my reflection, and screamed. My scars were gone, tiny hair sized white lines had taken their place. All my ugly purple and pink blemishes had nearly vanished completely. I was astounded, so much so that I did even know I screamed, or yelped, rather.

In moments Tualga and Hal-Liurz banged into the room, both wielding pewter kitchen cutlery.

"Did one of those stupid Khajiit groundskeepers sneak in here again?" The Stewardess snapped as she began peaking in each empty stall.

"Wha- no, no. I just…" I scrambled down and pulled my towel up again to cover myself, but in a quick glance Tualga had looked over at me gaped.

"Lynn your scars are all missing! What happened? Where'd they go?"

"The Count!" I exclaimed, still more shocked than happy as I too gawked at my pale legs. "He…the potion! He, he, fixed me."

Hal-Liurz was quickly making her way over to me. "What do you mean he fixed you?" She demanded. "What potion are you talking about girl?"

In moments I quickly recapped my little accident and the Counts heroism. I told her all of my embarrassing actions and the Counts careful ones. I thoroughly clarified my carelessness, making sure to stress that the Count didn't seem very angry. And even though I explained to her that the Count was no more affected by my blood than I was, she did not believe me. Her face contorted and grew angrier and angrier with each passing minute and I did not understand why.

He did seem a little funny around my blood, but he didn't do anything too strange. I think it only gave him a headache. Which makes me think he kept getting so close to me was only because his head was foggy. It wasn't like I was a hunger temptation. I thought I was at first, but now that I think about it I doubt it. He wasn't licking the blood off of my fingers after all.

"Are you telling me," The Stewardess began with a shaken angry voice. "That you were foolish enough to bleed in front of the Count? Am I supposed to sympathize or find this amusing? Idiot girl! Do you realize what could have happened to you? What you could have put him through?! Out of all my years of servitude I have never heard of anything to this extent."

She lowered her voice and took me by my naked shoulders and pulled my to her face. "You gushed your blood in a vampire's home! In his room! If he was not as good of a man as he is you would have been long dead by now. I have seen things you could not possibly imagine…I have watched that man turn into what he is and fight his every urge. I won't stand by idly and let some stupid girl put him through that hell again. Mark me,"

I blinked and stared at her, wanting to say: 'I promise I won't be so simple.' but those words never came. She refused to let me go. Instead she lowered here voice even more, so only she and I could hear it. "The Count may find you harmless but I know better. Any little 'mistake' like that again and I will permanently relieve you of his service. You will vanish altogether, and I will make sure you don't come back." (2) And with that she forcefully let me go and stomped over to the exit. "I'm going to see the Count. Ready yourself girl, compose a formal apology and memorize it. I'll be back shortly so you had better be prepared when I do."

Me and Tualga both winced as the door slammed behind her.

We lapsed into silence. I didn't know what to say, I didn't know what to think. The female who is in charge with my security had just threatened my life. Not only that, but she made me see the true magnitude of my actions. I was more than just ashamed, but words cannot describe the lowly state I'm in now.

"Lynn, what did she say?" Tualga asked quietly as she walked over to me.

"Y-you heard her. I'm to be prepared, that is all."

XXXX

The blood was raising his spirits. That, and he just received a nice letter from the High Chancellor.

Nice, in the sense that the head of the Mages guild were vocally expressing their poverty and were currently accepting handouts.

He could kindly decline, but that would make it much too easy for the mages. The Count would much rather invite the Arch Mage over to dinner, feign sympathy, offer up some pocket change and tell the guild head to buy a new hat. That would be much more satisfactory. Janus would have to think about it.

He chuckled and threw the letter onto the end table and reclined further back into his sofa. The night was still young and he had a no more to do other than relax for the remaining hours. Tomorrow he had letters to write and tax records to reread, but other than that the weekend was going to be a quiet one. No clients, no blackmail, no drama. Just the way he liked it.

Janus had forced the earlier incident out of his mind in order to calm himself. It worked surprisingly well. Instead of going over the event, he kept himself busy and thought on different things, like Rona. However his musings were cut short. His door received several loud knocks and Janus immediately recognized the rhythm.

He didn't bother with standing; she was used to him by now, so he only called to her instead.

The door banged opened and in marched Hal-Liurz, looking as furious as ever. "Your Grace, I just heard what happened."

The Count raised a brow and continued sipping from his glass. "What, happened?"

"The incident that accrued here a few hours ago." She stood by the arm of the sofa, her scales slightly flushed from anger. "I cannot believe that I was not informed by you, sir. Do years of loyalty mean nothing? This was an extreme event, whether or not you choose to see it as such."

Placing the goblet down on the table, trying to keep from looking the Argonian in the eyes, he answered. "You're taking it too personally. What happened earlier was of little importance."

"Really?" She rebuked. "Is that why you're drinking like a fiend now?" The Stewardess sniffed and pointed toward his open cabinet. "You've opened two bottles and drained nearly all of it in a matter of hours. Correct me if I'm wrong my Lord, but I thought you drank a glass or two every other day. How am I supposed to find this of little importance again, when you are breaking your strict cycle?"

His face darkened and the Count found himself slowly standing. "Watch it."

Having known him all her life the Stewardess was not intimidated. She only crossed her arms and glared back into his eyes. "You still plan on letting her work with you?" She questioned, more as demanded.

"Yes." He said through gritted teeth, finally turning away from her. "It was one small mistake, it could have happened to anyone. I won't patronize the girl for it, at least not this time."

"I can't believe the actions of that idiot girl."

The Count quickly rounded on the Stewardess for saying this. Hearing his maid being called names sparked an unusual anger through him. "I told you to watch your mouth! If you cannot learn to hold your tongue for five seconds I will remove you! Do not insult my maid."

Hal-Liurz eyed the Count very carefully for a moment. "Your maid?" She repeated as though trying out the saying. Hal-Liurz watched him swallow and nod, visually giving no incriminating indication, but she knew something was there. Being a woman herself she knew the ways and likes of men. She knew that any man would be partial to a pretty, young, bashful, girl like Abigale Lynn. The Stewardess assumed this was why he was very defensive over the little lady. She could see right through him, he might think it was a harmless attraction, but Hal-Liurz knew better.

"I can't believe she bled in front of you." She muttered, trying to change the subject.

The Count laughed and took his goblet from the table, making his way over to refill it.

"What's funny?" The Stewardess asked, slightly a bit unnerved by the Counts humor. His mood swings were one of the only things she found truly frightening.

"Well Miss Liurz, she is a woman, it's a bit inevitable. I was bound to catch her blood at some point."

The Stewardess flushed purple again, this time with embarrassment. "That's different."

"Is it?"

With shake of her head and cluck of her tongue the Argonian turned to leave. "I don't believe it's my place to judge such a thing, I'll leave that burden to you. Don't expect to much privacy my Lord, I'm sending your girl up to talk with you. She has some things to say."

XXXX

Hal-Liurz key ring jingled loudly as she pushed through the last set of doors. "Men." She found it astonishing and slightly appalling how they could be so easily swayed by pretty girls. "Vampires." She mentally corrected herself. Even they were no different to the gawking rule, so it seemed. That Abigale could get away with murder with the bat of a lash. It was horrible. The Stewardess was happy she never married; although she did turn down a couple nice looking Argonian boys in her day she could never bring herself to regret it.

Who needs love when you have chocolate? Who need children when you have employees to order? And who wants to be drooled at by the opposite sex all day long? All married men ever thought about was money or sex "Pigs." She did hope that Abigale Lynn would enjoy the constant gawking. At the mere mention of her to the Count his eyes lit up like a damn mage light. He enjoyed the view and all knew he earned the right to stare. He proved to be a hard man to please, and Hal-Liurz had never once seen him casting any maid a second glance. She may not have caught him in the act with Abigale Lynn, but she wasn't stupid. The girl was a beauty with big breasts and wide hips, of course he would stare. (3)

xxxx

My Lord I am very, very sorry for being so stupid. I am very, very sorry for ruining your evening. Could you find it in your heart…no, no that wont do.

I was really at a loss for words, even when entering the Counts manor. Everything I had prepared myself to say sounded more foolish the closer I got to the Count. I wanted my apology to be genuine, I wanted to thank him and really show how happy he had made me just with one potion. Being able to express all this though required a long-winded speech on my part. I know I would fail at that. How can one express adoration when limited to seven words?

Simply saying: 'Sorry my Lord but I adore you.' could rouse some discomfort on both our parts. I don't want to thank him too intensely. I can't jump around giggling while worshipping the ground he walks on; I don't want to frighten him. How am I to do this? I mustn't be afraid, or nervous, I want to present myself like a lady and thank him. I want to be able to look him in the eye when I apologies, without hunching my shoulders or backing away.

I want him to know how much what he did meant to me, even if it means nothing to him. For me to express this sentiment is all I wish for right now. I hope I can do something, anything, to let him know that I am eternally grateful and will always do whatever he asks, no matter how I may fumble about while doing it.

Authors Notes: Woohoo done! Hope you enjoyed the chapter. Now, for the 1,2,3's.

1. Moonsugar is Skooma. You can smoke it in Morrowind, thus 'heaps'. ^^

2. Don't be angry at Hal-Liurz. She had to watch the Count go through his 'withdrawals' before and has every right to get mad at Abigale for he stupidness. XD

3. To clear this up, I want Abigale to have some meat on her bones. She isn't obese, she's not chunky, but she has a round belly and is rightfully proportioned: Hips, butt, breasts, thighs, arms, stomach.