Authors Notes: Hkhrihiaskjfhk I REACHED OVER 100 REVIEWS?! THANKY YOU ALL!~
I LIIIIIIVE! Kinda… *picks up the 360 controller and places Fallout 3 disk into slot* I swear I've been busy! *give scrap metal to Charon* Honest! (you may choose to ignore my excuses, but after you read this chapter you will find my long-winded explanations as to why I have been dead.)
Oh, and this starts off in a dreamy sequence thingy. I just don't like italic-ing more than a few words XD
Love or Blood
Chapter Thirteen: Won by Paper
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"Abigale Lynn!" Came the pained cry of my mother late into the evening. "Oh Abigale get in here please! I need you!" I jumped from my bed and rushed to my mother's side as any daughter would. She stunk of stale mead and beer, her red hair was tousled, and her dark eyes were brimming with tears. I felt so ashamed as I looked down on her, I did not even hear her fall.
"I'm here. Where do you hurt?" I went to reach down and help her up but she swatted my hands away.
"Get a bowl, get a bucket! I'm going to be ill." So I ran to the kitchen and grabbed the largest bowl from the cupboard. Usually I would have brought her a pale but her face was so green I feared for time. She had pushed herself onto her now bruised knees and was already retching as I approached. Lucky for me I pushed the bowl in front of her before she became sick on the floor.
I pulled her hair back and squatted behind her, wishing that I could cover my ears as she nosily coughed and sputtered. I always had to close my eyes. It was vile. She was vile, but I loved her enough to care for her, I loved her enough to continue this ritual night after night.
It went on for what felt like hours, to the point that I was nearly sobbing. It wasn't entirely the smell, the noise or sight of it all that made me want to cry, but knowing that my mother had drank so much to make herself so sick again, even though she had just been through this yesterday. Sometimes I wanted to hate her as I choked my sobs down, but I could only pray for her well-being and hold her curly hair away from her face.
When she finished I helped her into an empty bed. My parents bed was hardly ever in use unless it was this time of night, her sick time. My father worked with Anvil patrol, he was one of the best guards the city had ever seen. It's such a shame he had to keep his home life quiet. He would have liked to brag about a beautiful wife and wealthy household as most men do, but our family was anything but that picture. The only thing he constantly bragged about was me, and I hated it.
I turned to leave the room and let my mother sleep off her drunkenness when she grabbed my elbow and pulled me back to her. She was crying again. "Don't leave me Abigale Lynn. Don't abandon me, I'm sick. I need you." I tried to pry myself loose and tell her I would collect the bowl for her when she continued to shout at me, frantically. "NO! Don't leave me! It's my heart that's sick, Hummingbird. My heart! Stay with me."
I could never leave. Even when she stunk now more then ever, even if she disgusted me to the point where I could have spit, I could not leave. So I allowed her to pull me down beside her. I stayed rigid as I laid there next to her and let her sob on my sleeve. It was like having to tend to a needy child. I could only leave when she fell asleep. Tonight though was one of those nights where she just stayed awake and sobbed, squeezing me tighter each time I flinched.
"My beautiful, beautiful, baby." She sniffed as her fingers ran through my hair. I bit my lip each time she touched me to keep from telling her not to. "So pretty… One day you'll marry someone rich and leave me. Leave me to rot away." I wouldn't let myself hear her, I tried to block it out as I stared at the stone ceiling, praying for my older sister to come down here and take charge just once…"You've got yourself a boyfriend yet? I-I heard that," She rubbed her eyes, like a baby, "That the mister Thomas was here again today. I heard that you snuck him in."
"He snuck himself in, mother." I tartly replied, unable to control my tongue. "I have your daughter's children to watch. I don't have time for friends or…or lovers. I am too young. I don't even like him."
And then she laughed, loud and hard into my ear. Her hot and smelly breath running over my face. "I hear about you all the time! You're the prettiest girl in Anvil." She said in a singsong voice. "And the priestesses still want you at the chapel!"
"Only because they needed to throw you out." I grumbled, but she still heard me.
"They've been asking for years so don't get smart with me. Your beautiful, appreciate it. Most girls would kill to look like you."
Most girls are stupid, I thought. I didn't have any girls who were my friends, I never did. I used to play with the boys until my responsibilities as an eight-year old babysitter called me away. I didn't need friends, but I would sometimes look out the windows and want one so badly. The only friends I have now where my little brother, two nieces, two nephews, and the men who heard about me from my father and came to collect me for an evening of discomfort. Some were so nice at first, then when we got to my door they would try to weasel there way inside, or at least try to put their hands on me. In a sick sort of way I felt like I deserved it. The men who came to my door came under false pretences. They thought I was looking for a relationship, when I really only went with them to please my father or for my own cowardice; I could never turn them down to their face.
"And you know what?" My mother whispered, "One of these days one of these men are gonna take you away and never let you go."
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I was alerted awake by a foul odor that was attempting to smother me. It was slightly surprising and appalling to me once I realized the stench was my own breath trapped in the pillow my face was currently buried in. I cringed at myself for it and went to roll on my back to be free of its cloud.
No sooner had I moved did I feel an almost unreal pain in my head. It was, or felt, akin to walking into a stone wall with your head down. I had not expected it any more than I knew what the cause of it was. Nor had I expected myself to yelp at the pain, but I did, and loudly.
My hands flew up to clutch my forehead. I managed to push myself onto my back, only while massaging my temples with tedious care. It was no matter though. My head began to throb angrily; a constant pulsing that had me ready to claw my own scalp apart -- morbidly true. But my discomfort did not end there, I also had body aches that were slowly intensifying with each passing second.
With a groan I reached over to my nightstand and made several attempts to find the small flint box. Once it was found I tried my best to light the candle. I had no idea as to why I had just become sick. I tried to remember if I ate anything strange as the wick gently began to burn. My belly felt a little funny but I could think of nothing odd that I had recently consumed. Even so, the contents of my stomach rolled and swished like a shaken bucket of water, lapping at the edges of my sanity. How did I become so ill?
As I mused, movement of the shadows caught my eye and I looked up. Tualga was there, sitting on her bed with a copy of the Black Horse Courier in one hand, and a cup of what smelt like coffee in the other. I took quick notice of Rheena's absents, which was probably due to the coffee smell. Usually they would both be doing something in the dark: reading or knitting, their eyes had become so accustom to the horrid lighting in this place. Nevertheless I was so thankful to see her there in that downy blue nightdress.
"Tu-Tualga--" I cut myself off with a groan and fell back to my previous position and laid flat. I didn't mean to make my sudden sickness known yet. I like to fight these things off by myself, which is to say pretending that I don't have one. If you don't act sick you soon forget that you are, and in the process you get better quicker.
Surprisingly though she snickered. I had first thought it was at something in the paper or my constant yelping, but when I saw her shoot me a sidewise glance before turning the courier page I had a strange feeling she knew something I did not. "Well, well, Lynn, nice to see you join the living again…How's your head?"
Even as I stared at the ceiling now my eyes narrowed. She did something, or at least knew something. "My head is terrible. What happened?"
She clucked her tongue at me, still scanning the paper. "You don't remember? That's a sad thing miss Lynn. I had thought you enjoyed yourself." I heard her slurping up her coffee. The sound was making me feel nauseous, I had half a mind to join Rheena. I would have too but I could only keep my eyes open for so long, never mind actually walking.
This realization made me groan again. At one point in the day I was going to have to get up, I had a manor to clean. The Count would not be pleased if I skipped my work. I don't think I am even allowed to consider it. In order to help fight off my sudden ailment I was going to need to know how I got it and if it could be spread -- which I doubt, seeing as Tualga knew there was something wrong with me before I told her so. "My head," I finally mumbled aloud, "It hurts so badly, Tualga. What happened, did I fall? Did someone hit me?"
She placed the porcelain mug on her nightstand with a smirk and knowing look, her eyes on the cup. "Well Rheena thinks the Count did."
Huh?
"The Count?…" It took a moment to digest what she had said, but when the words sunk in I gasped. My hands flew up to my face once again and I hurriedly began to feel for any forming bruise. "The Count hit me?!" I shrieked. "Good Gods, what did I do to deserve that?"
"No no!" She laughed, flying up to grab my wrists and stop me from prodding at myself. The courier fell into a heap on the floor. "It's a joke! You know, a naughty-ha-ha."
I only stared up at her for a moment, blankly. Once I got the 'joke' my mouth and mood turned more sour. Thankfully I couldn't even picture it. That would not do to face the Count with nasty images in my mind. But all the same…
"That," I finally growled, "Is vile." I spat the words rather than said them. I felt a little sorry for snapping at her but she and Rheena should keep their gutter-minds to themselves. Not to mention the blush now forming on my cheeks was making me feel sicker. My temperature could rise from it for all I know, and I don't want her seeing me blush over something like that. If she and Rheena get anymore ideas…oh please let the Nine be real and help me.
"Aren't you a cranky one!" She continued to laugh, only nursing my migraine of Oblivion, but thankfully letting go of my hands. "I would've never thought I'd see a day where little Lynn would turn bitter."
"You are instigating it." I bit my lip, my face was still burning. I don't like it when people talk like that, especially when I am in the conversation. Sex, as all may know, is a mystery to me and I want it to remain that way forever. Furthermore, what would the Count say if he heard something like that being said from the higher standing maids? Just thinking about it makes my stomach flutter. "I-I think I have a fever." I announced, desperately trying to change the subject. "Could you please get me a cool cloth? I'm sure I will feel much better after a bit more rest--"
She suddenly barked out another unsought of laughs, to the point where she doubled over and held her stomach. "Fever? Girl you've got yourself a hangover! Ya drank too much fancy wine, silly!"
At this point I had to be dreaming so I closed my eyes tightly. "I don't drink. My mother was a drunk so I do not drink ever. Please don't associate me with that foul brew."
"You really don't believe me?" I shook my head. "Well then hear this, I'll make you believe: In the Imperial City you were accosted by the guards and men. You ended up dressing like a boy and calling yourself Gale to keep them at bay. Somewhere along the line you met a young Argonian named Amusie, or something like that, and he helped you out. You and him traveled to Bravil, stole some stuff, and you got caught." She scratched her head. "The rest is a bit vague. You said something about a Khajiit helping you out, but before that you mentioned something about the Counts son--"
"Stop!" I stared wide-eyed at the ceiling. How does she know so much? "Please say no more I believe you but…" An imaged flashed of myself being thrown onto a cot in a cold, dank, cell in Bravil's infamous dungeon. A nasty rich boy in green trying to take my clothes off until a pink bottle fell from his pocket and smashed to the floor, which I got blamed and beaten by him for. At least he was mad enough to loose his lust and let me be. "I didn't say anymore then that did I?" I asked desperately. If they knew any of that I would be ashamed for the rest of my days.
"Nope." She smiled, and I was thankful that she overlooked the tears prickling my eyes. This was the most horrid day I had in a long time. At least I knew that it was my own liquor breath that gave me nightmares. Maybe I'll sleep peacefully tomorrow morning.
xxxx
Our quarters are mainly empty at this time in the day. Several maids flittered through to get some supper before heading off to home or back to work. The butler made several passes by as well today. He checked on me, which I was a little embarrassed about, as I was still in my nightdress. I had not changed and had no intentions to do so until last minute. My hair was a mess, my feet were bare, and I had breadcrumbs up and down my nightgown.
Rheena insisted for me to eat bread. So much bread and water, I felt ready to pop. But it was helping me very much, my pains had all nearly vanished; only my head pain remained. Thankfully, it too was duller then when I first awoke. Rheena and Tualga both told me that the bread helps by absorbing the alcohol in my system. According to Tualga I had not 'tossed my cookies'. The wine was left inside me to wreak havoc through the night.
I cannot even imagine how much I drank. I can barley remember anything that happened last night. The only small fragments I can recall is myself talking. Drawling on about one thing or another. I also think I may have done something very embarrassing. I wish I could bring whatever it was to my mind, therefore, I might be able to apologize for it later. Goodness, I hope I did not fall in front of the Count…
The Count. Needless to say, I am not too excited about going to see him tonight. If anything it will be worse than whatever it was I went through the previous evening. No matter what, I shall not drink any wine. I want to remember what I do from now on. I already must look bad to him; he probably sees me as a drunkard.
But I promise myself today that I will no longer be a dulled girl in his view. If he cares enough to offer me wine then I should at least act thankful, and I will.
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He frowned upon her form tonight, much like he did every night. This time though his frown was deeper. It set heavily in his features and made him look more exasperated than usual -- which was quite the feat to achieve.
It was her face, Rona's face. How it made him want to cry. She looked so ill, she was ill, but this was to the point that even her still technically living state seemed unnatural. Her skin was pulled so tightly across her bones he feared it would crack under his touch -- all the more reason to refrain from doing so. Those once pink lips were now a sickly pale purple, a small bump was visible on either side of her mouth where her fangs lay, and her eyes were set so deeply into her scull that from a distance it looked like she had none. Even her hair, once a chocolate brown, had lost most of its color. Each strand of it was fine and brittle; the ones who cared for her had to be exceptionally careful with it. Then again, they had to be careful with every part of her.
Janus looked at everything and soaked it in against his will. Each day she seemed worse and it killed him to watch her wither before his eyes, but he had to know, he had to remember. It was his fault that her skin had receded so far back on her fingers that it made her nails looked frighteningly long. It was his fault that she was no longer a pretty alabaster shade, not even an undead pale, but a sickly grey. It was his fault that the once beautiful and proud Countess was now a specter of her own castle.
Old and withered, but he loved her still.
Over the past few years the guilt had begun to build up inside him until it was painful. He ached when he looked at her or thought of her.
Absently, his eyes wandered over to the soft velvet dress she wore. It was plain, but pretty. In order for her caretakers to dress her the gown could not be very elaborate. It was always a simple slip on, or lace up, dress. Today she wore an orange-red gown, like autumn leaves. A simple cream-colored lace pattern circled the sleeves and collar. It wound around her wrist and neck like many little vines. He never really cared for such a color but he liked it today. A warm color, like that orange on a monarch butterfly.
Butterflies…he suddenly wanted to leave, he had overstayed his welcome.
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The color of that insect made something in his mind tick. It meant something to him but he could not remember why. That orange-red color pestered him all the way out of Rona's chambers. Even as he closed the secret entrance and wound his way back into the castle through the various hidden passages it nagged at him. Janus could not understand it. Perhaps he got another letter from that popular corner floral shop begging him to invest so they could rid the store of insects?…Did they even sell flowers at this time of year? It was almost Frostfall…
He did not know. It was of little importance regardless, but it was as aggravating, if not more so as having a name on the tip of your tongue. As he walked he ran his hand against the cool stone wall of his chamber, much wishing that Rona had been in grey so that he could have dismissed this silly notion off as something easy.
But only when he stepped out of his room, walked down the hallway, and saw a certain red-head girl with her back turned to him did her remember what that color was linked to.
Ah…that hair.
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I most certainly do not want to be here now. I would much rather eat another loaf of bread. At least my body no longer aches. If it were I may not have shown up at all, thus confirming my likely doom. I wanted more than anything to crawl into bed again, but my countless naps today will have probably robbed me of sleep tonight. I am not looking forward to that now either.
I pull the little silver key from the manor's lock but did not yet turn to set off. I sighed instead, placing my elbow to the door and put my face in my hand. Even with my cold fingertips at my brow the pain did not dull. It was nowhere near as bad as it was this morning, thankfully, but it was still enough to make me want to whine aloud. That, of course, I have no intention of doing. If the Count is around, which he usually is, then I am to be on my best behavior. He is good to me and I'll be good to him. No more jitters, stutters, and shakes. No. I shall be a lady, not a girl frightened by any shadow.
So I inhale and straighten. Head pain be darned, I will face the evening like I always have. But this time, I'll be more confident while doing so.
With a puffed out chest and erect back I turned, only to realize that I was not alone in the hallway. A silhouette of a man stood not even five feet away from me. Like a squashed blowfish I deflated and toppled backwards, into the door, then unto my bottom. The 'silhouette' shook his head and shot me a look of disgust. I knew it was the Count even as I fell but my body always had to act of its own accord and leave me in a ashamed heap. I am not a clumsy girl by any means, but if I am frightened or lost in thought, I am the biggest bumble in all of Tamerial.
My topple to the floor seemed to last forever, dragging on as dreadful things often do. And when I finally hit the stone with a soft thump, a jolt of pain ran up my spine and to my head. I was going to gasp, I knew I was, so I bit my lip to stifle it and only ended up making a high-pitched humming noise instead.
I wordlessly cursed the lighting of the Count's manor and his silent nature as I stared up at the now visible royal spectator. The urge to just hang my head in shame was there but this time I did not give into it. I met his eyes and swallowed hard. Blood pumped feverishly through my body and made me hot with embarrassment, but I tried not to show it. Once I was ready to stand The Count's voice cut through our usual silence with blatant venom. "Must you be so awkward?"
He did not offer me a hand to rise with, but I had not expected him to. I straightened the ruffles in my skirt as I stood. It was obvious he had been in a foul mood before my spill, and my idiocy just made it worse. I wished his moods weren't so rocky. I understand that…vampires, should often get angry snaps but I wish there was some type of sign for all of us innocent bystanders beforehand. It would nice to be out of the line of his fire.
"I beg your pardon, my Lord. You startled me." Although I just had one of the most embarrassing moments of my life, I was still bent on behaving. I messed up, yes, but I shall fix it. "Forgive my foolish reaction." For some odd reason he stiffened. Perhaps he was shocked by my fluency. I did not know, but I did not want him to be tense, I preferred loose anger to anxious restraint for obvious reasons…no, no don't think like that! "I-I did not see you. I did not expect you to be so close."
"I did not expect you to be so early." He countered, this time taking me aback. And then it was quiet. My head was under even more amounts of strain as I forced myself to put my thoughts into actual sentences. However, just as I was about to ask him what happened last night he asked me a question first. "How is your head?"
I blinked and reached up to touch my temple. "It hurts…" My words held the unasked question. I wanted to know why it hurt and how he knew. If Tualga was telling the truth, if I really did have wine with the Count through all hours of the night, why is he looking at me the way he is? Such…contempt. I know falling in his presence is bad manners, but I did bleed out in front of him before and he looked more contrite than mad then. If I can pass this off, then why cant he? Oh I must have done something dreadful last night.
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He looked at her, just looked at her. Soaked her in as he had done with Rona earlier. He watched her fall and watched her stand with a fixed fascination. It was strange for him to see such a graceful child be so scatterbrained. One minute she was whishing about the halls like a dancer on the floor, the next, when frightened, she crumbled into a fidget mess, a living statue of herself. It was hard to understand the inner workings of her logic. Moreover, did she have any? The way her eyes always looked calculating, the way they always darted about and scanned forced him to believe she did.
When he looked upon her blushed face as she stood he could not help but to envy her youth, her life. His beloved Rona was left to collect dust while this silly girl made a fool of herself in her home. Rona was not graceful like the girl before him, but she would have never fallen. He had never even seen her so much as slip. Rona always carried herself like any Imperial woman should, but this little half-breed before him could not even grasp the proper way to speak, never mind walk. Rona would have also insisted that he lent her a hand to stand with, this one rose on her own once again while sporting that wounded pride and rubicund face.
If the Countess was to have seen this girl she would laugh hardily but help to teach her proper etiquette. Janus, on the other hand, would not have devoted all his time to her as Rona would have done, but at least making an effort. Last night proved to be a success and he might have helped encourage that same openness if he could bring himself to care. But, he could not.
When he looked at his servant and thought of Rona he could only compare the two and point out the maids imperfections…but was it right to? Was it right to compare the two women, and why did he feel the need? Lack of companionship perhaps. He had been so used to Rona that having another lady suddenly thrust into his life made him notice things. Not that the two were entirely different, the did share some similarities like their love for books and long hair…
"It hurts…" The maid confirmed with an air of suspicion.
Janus nodded and tried to ignore that prominent gleam in her eyes. "I would think so."
She lowered her hand from her temple and brought it to her breast, attempting to rub some remnants of dust from the shirts fabric. It was obvious that she was only trying to divert her attention on something else as she continued to casually question him. "Do you…know why that is, exactly?"
Oh-ho, what's this now? It was an understatement to say that he was surprised she was actually prying him for answers. He had a feeling she drank enough last night to knock the memories out of her, not that there was anything to remember really, aside from her flashing him…
"Don't you know?" He countered. "I thought you would remember surely." He was bating her, half to get her to talk and half to get his mind off more depression matters, those of which he wanted to forget, if only for now.
"But I do not." If the look on her face was anything to go by, she didn't like this game. "Please sir, could you tell me?" The curtly nodded and turned, beckoning her to follow him as they talked. He had 'things' to tend to in his study. Besides, standing and fidgeting could only sit for so long with him.
"You came to me in hopes of apologizing for your behavior. But, as I expected, you could barley speak, and when you did it was inaudible." They wandered down the hallway together as he talked. The constant pitter-pattering of her feet as she attempted to keep up with him was only a slight distraction.
Once they reached the study he let his hands fall from behind his back and went to grab the door's latch. However, as he went to push it open the wood developed a mind of its own and swung inward before him. The Count flexes his fingers and looked down at them, wondering briefly if he had set off a spell unknowingly. Only when the little pale hand out of the corner of his eye presented itself did he blink, and realize that she was holding the door open.
"Of course." He acknowledged, feeling oddly uneasy about her opening doors for him, and proceeded inside. "So," He continued after hearing the click of the lock behind them. "In order to make you more comfortable I offered you a drink, which you accepted." Janus made his way over to his alchemy desk and began fiddling with the equipment while he spoke. Checking the alembic's temperature was vital at this stage of his current project. Thereafter a brief adjustment he continued. "Whenever you asked for more I filled your glass. You became more comfortable around me with each sip. It would have been wrong of me to ignore your request for more." He laughed weakly as he turned away from the retort he was currently bent over. "You are quite chatty when…" Abruptly, his voice trailed of once he realized just how close the girl was standing beside him. He swallowed, more uneasy than ever over her strange behavior. "Inebriated." Janus turned again and prodded aimlessly away at the heating glass.
"Then what happened?" She asked anxiously and moved nearer, standing so close behind him that he could feel her warm breath hit his earlobe. "W-what did I do or say? Was it bad? Did I do anything?" Paranoia had to be the peak of this girls mountain of weaknesses. She shriveled under everything, but fear made up of her own suspicion drove her past all reserve. She was barley a foot away for Julianous's sake! Yet she still did shrink once he finally turned to face her. It was a bit unnerving to have someone breathing down your neck, especially if you were facing a desk, cornered. Not that she was breathing heavy, but he wasn't used to it, and worse it made him feel…odd.
"No, nothing bad." He answered tightly. "I assure you nothing of interest happened. You simply opened up, and said what you wished." He forced a smile and stepped around her, keeping her wedged by the desk instead. "You were very friendly." Too friendly. "I do not see a reason why you should be so worried. Possibly afraid of letting something slip?"
And with that her lips buttoned again. Now that he was no longer wedged between the girl and the equipment, he saw a wonderful opportunity to question her. If he played his cards right he would not have to pry too much, she would assume that she said things last night.
Janus folded his arms across his chest and tapped his thumb against his chin thoughtfully, saying only one word: "Biencourt?" (1)
xxxx
The blood froze in my veins and thus turned my body to stone. I stared up at him and shook my head back and forth slowly, all the while cursing my big eyes that did not want to shut even a little. Biencourt. It haunted me like a ghost. Could I not even be free of broken ties here? I thought I was safe, and yet he knows of me, of my family!
I went to leave, I turned quickly, only to have my hip strike the corner of the Count's desk. I hissed in pain, and went to massage it, noting that I had cornered myself between the Count and his desk without even realizing it. I was going to have to act like a proper lady now against my will. It's for the best, I know, but that does not mean I am supposed to enjoy my torment.
When I looked back to the Count I was thankful when I realized he had not noticed my sudden escape attempts. I believe I have him under the impression that I am clumsy. It works for my benefit in some ways…
All the same, I found myself wishing that he was not a vampire right then and there. I wished he was just a mortal man, maybe then my chances to flee from this discussion would be greater. You cannot push your way past a vampire and hope to come out okay, it is foolish even to think so.
"I…I do not know what you're talking about, sir."
"You know," The Count began quietly, "It is really rather distressing to hear you lie when you are standing so close to me. Barley three feet away." I swallowed hard but remained very quiet as he continued. "It is refreshing too. Seems to me that you have finally gained some courage. I might have praised you for that, but it does not sit well with me to know that you can lie right to my face." He gave a strained, smarmy smile, it looked…cocky but playful and scary as well. His eyes flicked to my collarbone, "Your heat is loud. It always is when I am around, it will give you away every time you attempt to trick me." My hand instinctively went to my chest and settled there, like I was trying to muffle the beat somehow. "Pity. Here I thought you were an honest girl."
"But I am!" I exclaimed, taking a step forward, then immediately taking a step back when I remembered who I was talking to. "Please believe me I-I…I." The heat was quickly rising to my cheeks at the peculiar look in his eyes. It made my voice fade and head bow. Speak Abigale, speak! Be a lady. "I'm sorry, my Lord."
I could feel him looking at me, watching me, and I hated it. My eyes burned, my face felt blistered, I had never been so humiliated. But why? The situation wasn't bad or terrible, just tense. I could fix it, he said I was getting courage, I don't want him to regret saying that.
My head felt like burdened-brick when I lifted it to look up at him. My lips trembled when I went to speak, which was a tell-tale sign that I would surely die of embarrassment if anything else like this arose. "I will tell you what you want. I'll be honest, sir. Please, please I-"
"There is no reason to beg. Quite frankly, I prefer if you didn't." He interjected. "I am not blind. A fool could tell this is not a desirable topic for you. But as your…employer, I have every right to ask these questions, whether or not they are uncomfortable ones." He lowered a hand and placed it on the desk's smooth surface. "I merely wish to understand. I want to know how you were able to lie to me the first night you were here and get away with it. And, of course, as an authority figure, I need the truth. You went missing several years back and were declared dead. Correct? Why is this?"
…
"D-dead…?" I echoed, knees growing weaker as I too now held the desk. My mind reeled, and I felt cold. "They all think I'm dead?"
XXXX
Oops.
The Count swallowed, feeling utterly sheepish, and watched the girl place a hand to her brow and stare at the floor. Her naturally peachy-pale skin had turned blue, a rather frightening shade at that.
The way she blinked, shook her head, griped the desk, and continued staring at the floor made Janus very nervous. He was startled at the idea of her fainting. If she did what would he do? Leave her on the floor and call the butler? That wouldn't be very nice of him but he would not touch her, so what other choice would he have? But there was another thing the girl could do besides fall unconscious, something equally horrible, and that's crying. What on Nirn would he do then? Saying he was sorry wouldn't do any good. He honestly thought the girl knew what became of her family, or at least knew the outcome of her disappearance.
Had he expected too much from her again, or had he been hoping that she staged her death? If she did it would have given him the right to question her further and not feel guilty for it. Either way…oops.
"You cannot go missing for five years and expect people to think differently." He swallowed hard, trying to find the best way to apologize without actually doing it. He was indeed sorry but for pities sake five years? No one would think she was still alive after five years, would they? "I assumed you knew."
"How would I have known?" Came the quick yet soft response. Oh Gods, did he hear sobs rising in her voice? It wasn't good. The Count did not, nor know how, to deal with a weeping girl.
"It's not so bad." He nearly stammered. "I am willing to do many things for you. I can help with this situation, but you must talk with me. I need facts, no more well-planned lies. If you do this for me, with me, I will be more than glad to discuss some form of action to correct this awful misunderstanding."
When she finally did look up to him her eyes were glistening with unshed tears. Just how many time was he going to make this girl cry without meaning to? It was almost comical. "A-action?" She sniffled, bringing up her wrist to dab at the corner of her eyes. Thankfully, for the Count, the cloth from her sleeve caught any tears that may have fallen. It made him feel a little less cruel. "What do you mean, sir? What more can be done?"
Relief washed over him. Just by her showing interest in his proposition made him feel so much better. "I promised I would be kind to you." Janus proclaimed, catching the girl off guard. "I intend to make good on that promise. Sit with me." The girl remembered no such promise, having nearly been out of her wits on wine the previous evening. She tensed at his offer, hunching her shoulders, and looked to the door. The Count was only troubled by this a little, but he promised himself that this would be the last time she would rather leave to wallow in shame alone then be his company. "Please?" He insisted, secretly knowing that she would fall to 'please'. She was just that type of girl, politeness would grant him anything with her.
As expected, she came, hesitating for only a moment, then agreeing with a grim nod.
xxxx
"Tell me your name. Your full, real, name."
It was Bravil all over again. It was my interrogation here all over again. What else could I do but except it though? I had to comply, I had to answer everything. What's worse though is that I knew from the look on the Count's face that this was going to be far more invasive. It would start out easy, but it would go on…I was horrified. What was he going to ask?
"A-Abigale Lynn, Rechelle, Biencourt." (1)
He stared me down while I uttered every syllable. My heart thundered in my chest at this. I wanted him to look away from me, but I knew he would not.
"It's a long name." He smiled, as though he were attempting to be humorous. "Now, I need to know your parents names, their races, occupations. Anything about them would be most helpful."
I wanted to protest, to claim that they were not my parents anymore, but I knew he would have none of that. So, with another shaky breath, I told him about my parents. I was discussing the two people I have not spoken about, or thought about in years. "M-my father was a Breton. He…His name is Claude Biencourt. He was a guard in Anvil. My father patrolled the city, sir."
The Count nodded slowly, fingers laced in his lap, eyes never leaving my face. "And your mother?"
"Tertia Biencourt. She was a healer at the chapel of…Dibella." I flushed and grumbled out the name of that supposed Goddess. Apparently, I was to become a priestess there as well. The members would not leave me alone. It only fueled my hate toward the Gods. Especially for the reason that they only wanted me to join because I looked how a priestess of Dibella should look. They were so fickle, so vain, my stomach rotted at the very thought of just praying with them. "My mother is an Imperial. Her maiden name was Doran."
"Did you get your hair from her? Mothers pass the hair traits down but Bretons are fairer."
I blinked. My hair? I knew he was trying to lighten the mood a bit, which struck me as odd. I know he enjoys teasing me but asking questions like that are so informal. We are not familiars, I am not supposed to act familiar with him. He is initiating this conversation though, and he is the Count, whatever he says I must go by. So does that make this a proper conversation because he was the one to start it? Does that make it okay?
Oh for goodness sake, it is just my hair.
"Yes. Her's was very curly though."
"Hmm. Did you have any siblings?"
At this my jaw set into place very firmly. I could hardly see how this was going to help either of us at all. He said he was going to do something for me, but making me think about the family who believes me to be dead is just making my life worse, and wasting his time too. "My sister's name is Nicolette, she is several years older than me. A-and my younger brother's name is Guillaume."
The Count suddenly quirked his brow at me. I nervously licked my lips, wondering what I had said, or done, wrong. "Guillaume?" He repeated, stating my little brother's name fluently, but with all the acidity of a potion gone bad.
"William. I-I mean William, my lord. I'm very sorry. I did not know you didn't speak…I just assumed-"
"I do know how to speak Breton. What strikes me as strange is that you do." He leaned in close again, he always does that to me when we sit or stand together. "What else can you do?"
I bowed my head. "Nothing, my lord. I cannot even hold a full conversation in my native tongue." I bit my lower lip again, and wondered briefly how much more of this I could take. I berate myself with just about every other word, and he wont stop looking at me, my headache is coming back with each second...I just want to go to bed again.
I wish I was a vampire. I could sleep forever and not have to care or answer for anyone. Just a black, warm, abyss where I could flounder for eternity and never have to think of my old family again. That would be lovely right now.
"Alright. You want to get this over with, so be it." The Count sighed, settling back in his seat. He closed his eyes for a moment, thinking about what he should ask me first, but as he did this I found myself comfortable. Without him staring at me so I relaxed, and in turn I could be the one studying him. It was a nice change, but once he opened his eyes again I looked away and nervously fiddled with my hair. "There are rumors you went to prison before coming to Skingrad. Is there any truth to these rumors, and if so, what were you incarcerated for?"
"How could you possibly know so much?" I asked without thinking or looking at him. As usual, I scolded myself inwardly for being rude and peeked up at him from beneath my eyelashes, to make sure he was not fuming with rage.
Thankfully though, he only smirked at me in an unkind way. "Yesterday you were so open to me," He positioned his chin on the back of his hand. "I do miss it. To be brutally honest, I prefer you drunk." I looked away, unable to keep the haughtiness out of the turn of my head, and only bit my tongue. "Going by your reaction though, I take that as a yes, you went to prison. Now what was it for? Why were you charged?"
I flushed out of anger and embarrassment. I did not want to answer him but I never have exactly wanted to. Regardless, he is my Count, and he is holding information that could be valuable to me. I cannot let this pass me by because of my natural behavior. But all that aside though, I have no right to give him any type of attitude. So away with my pride if I want to please him and act like a lady, which I do.
I swallowed. This is terribly embarrassing. "Armed robbery."
The Count snorted, and passed a hand across his face as if in attempts to catch his laughter. "You? You attempted to rob someone? How could you have possibly have hoped to accomplish that?"
I tried to imagine what the Count was seeing in his mind. Me: shaking franticly with a dagger to some man's throat while saying 'please give me all your money now mister'. Hardly terrifying, I know, but it was indeed funny in retrospect.
I smiled and tried to keep my snickering at bay. What he was envisioning, Gods know, probably isn't even close to what actually happened or how horribly wrong it went. Now though when I look back it's horribly funny…in a grim way. Regardless, I was soon biting my lip just to hold my laughter. I am so small and weak, trying to imagine me menacingly wielding a dagger is more difficult than imagining an intelligent cow.
XXXX
"I am allowing you to decide what should be done." Janus told her. After explaining the situation further to the girl, he could tell that this would have led to a lengthy debate between the two of them. The best course of action for him was to grant her the right to decide. This was her family and he, truthfully, did not care for such affairs. Nope. He just wanted her happy, and to achieve that he was going to have to learn to be lenient. "I will not be giving you any sort of time limitations but I do advice you to hurry. The sooner this matter is dealt with the better."
With that he stood. It all had been handled as painlessly as possible, and once he made her laugh -- what a little laugh it was -- she seemed more agreeable to answer him. Not that he asked much, just little things that could turn to be useful at a later date.
She blinked up at him for a moment, possibly confused at the abrupt dismissal, but eventually stood as well. As was her habit she straightened her skirts, placed a loose strand of hair behind her ear and bade him farewell. The Count felt strangely betrayed by her mainly silent departure, and followed after her in a most perverse way.
"Will you be going to the library?" He asked her back, feeling unreasonably awkward.
The girl turned to stare at him with a very puzzled expression. "Why should I my lord? Do you wish me to?" He opened his mouth to answer her but closed it once he realized she had forgotten all about their little deal.
Janus chuckled, mentally tacking off never giving the girl an alcoholic beverage again, then finally answered. "I told you yesterday that you could take a book from my library, read it, and replace it with another when its finished. Do you not remember this?" Of course she didn't, but he just could not keep himself from teasing her.
"I…" She watched him for a moment, as though she was trying to find some sort of flaw or alternate motive in what he had told her. When the realization finally came, she beamed, much like she did the previous evening when receiving this news.
The Count could share after all.
"You are letting me use the library? I…why? No, I-I mean thank you."
"You should hurry before I change my mind." She hesitated at the door. "Be sure to pick whatever you like." She bit her lip. "I insist." Still more fidgeting. The girl would not budge. Was his generosity making her uncomfortable?
…"Would you like me to accompany you? I could monitor what you are taking that way."
She nodded and the Count led the way to the library.
Authors Notes: GAHHH~ I wrote STUFF?! (You can feel free to leave now. Thanks for reading this craptastic chapter! XD)
1. HOW THE HECK DID I SPELL THAT WRONG BEFORE WHEN I'M FRENCH? D8
Okay, here goes my explanation.
FALLOUT 3 (UGHHHH YES!)
IT'S TO COLD TO FUNCTION (I'm the littlest person in my house. The rest of my family members are…bigger than me XD They refuse to turn the heat up. My days consist of me hiding under the covers of my bed while eating large quantities of junk in the hopes that I may build up fat to survive the winter D8)
CHARON (…yes.)
SCHOOL (I actually like school… O.o)
MISTER BURKE (EXCELLENT)
DRAWING (Um…yeah.)
So there you have it. DON'T HIT ME!
The next chapter is going to be…different. Flashbacks from none other than our favorite stewardess. Among other things.