Love or Blood

by GothicRose18

A thief gets caught stealing within castle Skingrad. The punishment is death but Count Janus Hassildor spares her life. She becomes his newest servant and an odd little companion. But when feelings begin to bloom between the two, will they give the Count happiness or torture his poor soul further? Janus.H/OC/L.L

51. The Gold Road

Author's Notes: This chapter was so fun to write! I liked it way too much XD Thank you all for the reviews! I got this thing finished in 6 DAYS. Seriously, the feedback I've been getting is really driving me! I still haven't really grasped that people still read this story after seven years! And we have new readers too?! WELCOME AND THANK YOU XD I have recently been editing the story. Think I'm up to chapter 5? Nothing major is being changed, you do not need to go back. I'm just cleaning up the awful grammatical errors and adjusting a few timeline issues. We'll also start seeing some flashbacks in this chapter, which is something I want to try to include in each update (for some time, at least). And more Lucien~ We love to hate him, riiiiight? XD I'm also very happy that his character is agreeable to most of you. As we see more of his interactions I can only hope your opinion stays positive XD

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Love or Blood

Chapter Forty-nine: The Gold Road

XXXX

The Count of Skingrad eventually closed the door to the Green room behind him and left the hall. He felt empty and surprisingly cold. All was so quiet and deathly still. There was no breathing, no soft heartbeat, no shuffling of items or rustling of linens. Nothing. The only sound came from his footsteps and the groaning of his bedchamber door.

He shut himself in his room and was quick to mindlessly flick the lock. Janus scanned the chamber, frowning at the quiet and still toppled furniture. His eyes fell to his bed and its disheveled covers. He made his way toward it and began to strip. The Count had much to do and much to think about. So many things needed to finally be addressed and taken care of. However, all of his current pressing charges needed to wait. He had plenty of time to deal with them later.

Carefully, he sat on his mattress and stroked the wrinkled sheets. There was no warmth left there, to his dismay. Although he knew better than to expect any lingering heat, he foolishly hoped there would be some small trace. With a disappointed sigh, he pushed around the still tousled covers and settled in. No, his bed was never made today, it was intentionally neglected. He wanted it to be left as it had been. The last to sleep here was his Abigale Lynn. She had not been gone an hour but he felt a stifling heaviness in his chest at her absence.

Janus inhaled her scent from the pillows, hand mindlessly wandering to where her head would rest. He was tired and conflicted. He missed Abigale Lynn terribly. He had forced her to go but he was so very hurt and angry that she wanted to leave him in the first place.

The Count only frowned again and resigned himself to turn in for the night. Retiring so soon would surely alter his sleeping habits and he would have to tolerate his inevitable nightmares, do doubt. Regardless, he vowed to try and rest in an attempt to let pass some of his bitterness. Janus hoped some would ease in his slumber. Yes, for now, he deemed sleep as the wisest and healthiest choice.

xxxx

The hour was growing exceedingly late as we continued along the Gold Road. I kept the cloak as close to my body as possible, trying my hardest to hold back shivers. The sky was cloudless, the moons and stars were very bright. Had the circumstances been different I may have enjoyed the evening. Unfortunately, it was impossible. Lucien Lachance seemed determined to keep me well aware of his presence. It was awful. He kept his body flush to mine, arms around me and reigns in my lap. All I could think of was the feeling of his solid chest against my back in the alleyway. The way he had shamelessly touched me then still made my face burn.

The madman, Lachance, spoke to me constantly, making random little inquiries. I was left confused as to why he cared to ask me anything. The Count had used similar means to force me into talking with him. Eventually, it had worked in his favor and made me much less shy. I wondered if the Count had told Vicente of his methods and if Vicente passed that information to Lachance...

I tried to be calm and compliant despite every part of me telling me otherwise. I knew I was in a very dangerous position and I was unsure how to properly react to either assassin. I was jaded and angry. I was discouraged and sad. I felt so defeated that I simply sat and stared off at the sky. I often thought of the Count and could not help but to be angry at him. He was not awful...he claimed to love me but all was handled wrong and I felt compelled to run away out of fear of him. Now, I was saddled with an assassin who had done me harm, was unabashed in his desires and positively mad. Had the Count not frightened me so, I would never have run away into the arms of a killer.

"You will certainly pull every muscle in your body if you don't relax soon." Said assassin commented, again resting his chin on my shoulder - it was but another terrible thing he liked to do. "How you are able to fit so much tension is such a little body, I'll never know." I angled my head away from him, returning my glare to the stars. I wanted to push him away, to demand that he stop touching me but I could do nothing. I was in an astoundingly similar predicament to my enslavement of Castle Skingrad. It was truly bleak and I had a feeling it was not a simple coincidence. "Hmm, either you are again being rude or you simply enjoy stargazing. I'll go with the latter. I know your Count wasn't generous with his outings. You must have missed the sky terribly."

An additional distasteful thing he liked to do was bring up the Count...which hurt me. I did not like it. He apparently had quite the opinion of him and was constantly bringing up negative qualities. I tried to console myself with the knowledge that Lucien Lachance was most likely trying to get a rise out of me. I answered his questions, I did not want to 'disobey' but I had no enthusiasm in my speech. I did not want to talk to him. My tongue felt heavy like a brick in my mouth.

"You prefer silence then? As do I." I found that surprising. "But they are pretty, are they not? Do you know what stars you were born under?" I took a very deep breath, not wanting to have to respond to any more of his questions. Of course, I knew better than to try and be defiant with him. I also knew he could not harm me unless I disobeyed. Thus far, I had been good and would continue to be so. Nevertheless, I felt my obvious irritation was already playing with fire. It was so hard to stifle.

Not wanting to press my luck, I solemnly replied. "The Lover."

Lucien Lachance began to chuckle. "So very fitting. I've heard the Lover's kiss is handy. Ever put that talent of yours to use?" He paused for a brief moment but it was not long enough to allow me to respond. When he spoke again, it was almost as though he was struck with an epiphany. "Given how you handled our first walk some time back, I'm willing to wager you can't do magic. That could have been dangerous for me. Hmm, how odd for Breton. Perhaps we can practice together? Both magic and your untapped abilities?" I felt myself twitch, again far too aware of his person. The way he more purred than spoke disturbed me. "I'm sure your 'gifts' are very potent with that Dibellan blood in you. I'll have you know that I am an excellent teacher. Many creative methods..."

I suppressed a groan and again glared off at nothing.

"Speaker, sorry to interrupt but I have a question." Nerah Vlando blessedly intervened. She followed us on her Bay, keeping a decent distance from Lachance's large mare. I was immeasurably thankful to Nerah as Lachance removed his head from my person to look at her.

"Is it an important question or is it something I would deem foolish and unworthy of a proper response?" He smoothly countered, sounding thoroughly uninterested. It was odd to hear them speak. I could hear the hesitancy in Nerah Vlando's voice and the absolute authority in her Master's. It was almost jarring, like an echo of myself and the Count, and yet not. Nerah was more outspoken and mostly unafraid to show her irritation - I was the exact opposite. While Lucien Lachance was cold and cynical, he was more than happy to remind Nerah of how little her thoughts mattered. The Count would at times make me feel utterly foolish and small without even realizing it. I knew now my hurt feelings were mostly due to my own self-consciousness. I cared about his opinion and held all he said close.

"Erm...both?" Nerah answered with all the normal uncertainty of a teenage girl. It was another thing I found so strange. Despite her Master being a murderer, a violator, and Gods knew what else, she pestered him and was not afraid to verbalize her distaste to his response. Her more than audible sighs, grunts and tuts left me worrying for her but Lachance brushed all she did aside. I could not fathom it. "You see, you said we were going to stop and rest at dawn. I'm a vampire...won't that be cutting it close?"

He focused his attention back on the road, speaking over my head. "Yes. You had best run once we see Rumare." His response was met with immediate sounds of exasperation and annoyance, then grunts and hateful mutters. I worried for her. "Children." Lucien Lachance whispered by my ear, again I tried to move away. "They tend to be such a distraction. We can only hope they prove worth the investment of wasted time."

"Pfft, I'm hardly a child! You know she's only three years older than me. And I am a vampire now. I can hear you."

"Then hear me well - do not speak again unless you have something of interest to say." Lachance then commanded, effectively silencing Nerah Vlando. I was surprised that he did not shout at her. Truthfully, it was quite extraordinary. I could feel the way he seemed to tense whenever she spoke, as though her voice grated on his eardrums. He sounded like a taxed father, exhausted at his child's endless questioning. I found it strangely fascinating, if a little disturbing, but my interest died as his hand pulled my hood back slightly. He looked my profile over. "Hmm, you are rather young for me. You do not act your age. I wonder...have you ever? Or did you simply emerge from your mother's womb with a pout, ready for abuse?" I did not know why his question irked me so but it did. I supposed it was simply due to the fact that I found his entire person offensive. Everything he said stung or sent strange shivers up my spine.

I refused to look at him, so as if to capitalize on my youth and capture my attention, he pinched my cheek and laughed. "I bet they had to swat your little behind to get you to cry. A babe that does not weep turns into a woman who does so often, it would seem." I turned away sharply, I did not want to encourage his actions. I closed my eyes and tried my best to ignore the slightly unpleasant warmth in my face. "Your lack of response will grant you no success with me. I am quite needy. If I don't get attention from speech, I shall implement other means."

I chewed my lip. Unlike Nerah Vlando, I would not test this man. From what I knew he was darkly creative. I was positive he could gain my attention and I did not want to find out his ways for doing so. "I-I am listening to you," I answered as calmly as possible, despite it being so difficult.

"That was simple enough. You are amazingly manageable. It is no wonder why your Count enjoys you so, besides your obvious life, beauty and what's between your legs, of course." I said nothing but bit the inside of my cheek. They way he spoke of the Count made me bitter and miserable. I wanted to defend him but I was afraid to. He also had yet to say anything personally cruel about him. He made little jabs and jests about his temper, possessiveness, treatment of me and other 'undesirable' qualities but nothing very noteworthy. Just a constant fountain of spiteful nonsense that made me ache. "Now, please, correct me if I am wrong but I've heard tell - from a little, fanged bird - that your Count is not very kind to you. Any truth to this?"

I felt my breath escape me sharply in the form of a spiteful sigh. I was lucky he did not hear it. "He is very kind."

"Well, perhaps I was misinformed," Lachance remarked far too lightly. He again turned away from me slightly, looking to Nerah. "Miss Vlando, you were in Castle Skingrad last night and all day, were you not? Would you care to enlighten me of the goings on there?"

I froze, my face flushed. I had overlooked Nerah Vlando and Vicente's presence in the Count's manor. They were vampires and as such could hear almost anything. They must have heard all that transpired between the Count and I. All the terrible things that were said...I wanted to beg they young assassin to keep the awfulness a secret but I knew better than to try. Lucien Lachance was her Master and as such, she had to obey. "Uh..." She began uneasily, I could hear her drumming her fingers on her saddle. "It was a little difficult to, erm...hear? Yeah, the doors kind of muffled stuff."

"Don't insult me, child. You are the nosiest girl I have ever known. You would find a way to eavesdrop. So, truth or garlic? You may pick." I was confused by his words, more so by Nerah's cavalcade of wretching and gagging sounds that followed the ultimatum. I did not turn to face her, I did not make a sound, I simply closed my eyes and tried to focus on the noisy hoofs trotting along the road.

"Truth. Sorry." She grumbled the little apology. "From what I heard, I'm betting the Count's cheese slipped off his crackers ages ago. He's violent - could give you a run for your money, Speaker. However, he tries to hide his violence. But what stands out the most, what I noticed from the first time I met him, is how obsessed he is with Lady Abigale."

This earned another dark chuckle from behind me. "Obsession? How unhealthy." Lachance murmured in my ear, running a gloved finger along the length of my neck. "Yet, I sense an ongoing theme here...continue with your observation, Miss Vlando."

"The man is a possessive git. Spoiled rotten and entitled. He treats her horribly and he's so very passionately angry. A walking grudge, beautifully tragic. His good looks are wasted thanks to his lackluster personality. And his threats are the stuff of nightmares for a woman, especially the way he says them."

The Speaker's interest was nearly tangible. He perked up, his excitement evident without me even having to spare him a glance. "He threatens her? Do go on."

"Please do not." I heard myself whimper, knowing it was a meaningless request. My plea earned me an awkward and jarring pat on the head from Lachance - as if it would somehow help me to cope with the impending humiliation.

Nerah Vlando could sense my obvious turmoil and no doubt felt awkward having to relay such information whilst I was stuck listening. Her speech faltered, her hesitance audible. "Umm, well maybe they are not that bad." She cleared her throat, trying to appear more self-assured. "I mean, it's 'lovers quarrel' stuff - love being the main issue. He just wants her to love him."

"Don't you?" Her Master repeatedly interrupted in amusement, again examining my profile. I glared at him despite knowing I should not. I could not help it, he was revolting. It was none of his business. Why did he even want to know? Was this mindless chatter to make the journey pass faster? How dare he violate mine and the Count's privacy. Lucien Lachance was rotten. "Interesting. Sister, tell me his threats. The Count of Skingrad usually holds to his promises, after all. We'd best be prepared. Do you happen to know what was said, word-for-word?"

I wanted to cover my ears but was afraid of letting go of the saddle. I could do nothing but listen. I was not strong enough or brave enough to intervene and even if I did it would only worsen my predicament. "He, uh...he said that she belongs to him. I mean, technically she does, right? So that's not so bad. But he told her if she does not love him, he'd tear her heart out. And that she can never leave him. And that she has to stay in Castle Skingrad until she rots. And I think he wants to make her into a vampire too - was a little unclear on that one. And the only way he'd let her go with us is if she married him once she returned."

There was a brief pause. I broke out in cold sweat, then the madman laughed loud and hard. My face burned and knuckles turned white from the terrible grip I had on the saddle. I wanted to cry or shout. I wanted to run away from the jeering assassin and hide in a thicket. The Count's words, threats, and promises all echoed loudly in my mind, Lachance' laughter dancing around the thoughts. "Really?...Really? By Sithis, that's too much." His mirth slowly diminished, the air still punctuated by the occasional giggle. When he again spoke, it was soft and mocking with more underlining black merriment. "Shall I call you Little Countess?"

I could feel his smile, his joy. This elated him, my misery and humiliation elated him. Suddenly, I felt nauseous. "Please stop."

"From rags to royalty! Let me guess the wedding theme...red? You know it will be red. He certainly knows how to 'capture' a lady's heart, hmm?" His words paled me and my stomach continued to twist. Everything was all too much, his words and their mortifying implications made my teeth chatter. "Quite the proposal: Marry me or I shall eat you - love me or perish. Ah, a wedding! Will the Brotherhood be invited? I should very much love to come. I'll buy you a beautiful scarf to hide all his bite marks. But he is a touch violent...Perhaps some cream to cover the bruises from the inevitable beatings you'll receive once wed? Oh, happy days!"

"S-stop the horse, p-lea- " I choked, hand coming up to cover my mouth. I could feel my throat tighten as bile suddenly rose. The constant movement of the horse made my eyes water. Everything swam, all was happening so fast. I was dizzy.

"Why? Planning to run?"

"N-no!" I cried through my fingers. "Sick -" But Lucien Lachance did not stop his mare and I could not handle all the movement and words any longer. Leaning as far away from the horse as I could, I spilled the contents of my stomach onto the road beneath us.

The mare was unfazed and mostly untouched. The madman jerked his reigns upon the realization that I was not lying. It proved too late and fruitless as I had already finished. I shuddered but despite feeling filthy and afraid, I felt a little better. As I tried to compose myself I wondered how the madman behind me would react. I assumed he would be repulsed and in the very least boot me from his horse. I fearfully considered what the Dark Brotherhood's definition of 'harm' was. He would most likely get away with striking me.

I was then thoroughly surprised to find a waterskin being placed in my trembling hands by Lachance. When he spoke it was devoid of any anger or disgust. He was calm, even a little curious. "I have heard that some people fear commitment but that was a tad excessive. I suppose marriage is a tender topic for you." I greedily took the water but refused to swallow. I rinsed my mouth and spat, casting a glare at the man behind me, half wondering why I wasn't struck for getting ill by his horse. He saw this and smirked. "I deal in blood and death, my dear. It will take more than a little sick to dissuade me." I gave another involuntary shudder, realizing then that I would have preferred a beating.

We were both suddenly alerted to the sound of pure hysteria. Nerah Vlando cackled so manically it came out mostly soundless, her hilarity consisting of random flailing. "You barfed on Shadowmere!" She eventually managed. "Oh, Nine! Oh, Sithis! I knew I liked you!"

I felt delirious. I was still in shock from all that had transpired from the last few hours alone. I was hardly aware as Lucien Lachance peeked at the mess in the road. He shrugged and directed Shadowmere to again begin to move, thankfully at a much slower pace. "Looks like you didn't eat much. When we get to the city, breakfast is in order." I could not stifle my groan at the thought of food. "Did you know you are even beautiful as you vomit? How extraordinary."

XXXX

Vicente Valtieri carefully maneuvered his mount through the dense forest, his face betraying no emotion. His eyes darted from tree to tree as he took in the land. There was no life here aside from the occasional small woodland creature - hardly enough to make a decent meal out of. Still, the area proved safe for him to rest, provided he found decent shelter from the impending sun.

Vicente knew these woods well, having scouted the West Weald thoroughly for the Brotherhood and Janus Hassildor. Yet as he wandered, so did his thoughts, leaving him conflicted and confused as he traversed the area. He thought of his friend and the hateful stare Janus had fixed on his person... If looks could kill, Vicente would have burst into flames. Until the Count of Skingrad returned to his usual mindset, the removal of Abigale Lynn was of vital importance. Nothing could happen to her. It pained him to know that she no doubt hated him now because of this.

He grimaced before finally stopping altogether. An image of the girl throwing her arms around the neck of her Master came to him. Her moves were nervous but desire filled. She stood on her tiptoes, her expression pained from need, and kissed him so tenderly. Janus had melted at her touch. Like candle wax, dripping through her fingers, clinging to her as he cooled. Vicente had watched on in pure curiosity, much like observing the changes to a potion when the temperature was altered. Then he felt compelled to know what the lips of Abigale Lynn felt like. What they tasted like. How they would feel on his own. The innocent fascination quickly died and turned into a jealous glare.

Janus Hassildor was a foolish man. So saddened by the loss of a wife, one who had withdrawn from him over fifty years ago, he now projected his rage at the tender girl who only wanted his affection. Had he done away with his wife decades ago, Abigale Lynn would not be so troubled and endangered. She could simply love him. Instead, she had to be pulled from the Castle for the preservation of her life. The Count's love was lethal, as was his temper. He could not be trusted with his current turmoil and that grieved Vicente more. His friend was hurting but the hurt was self-inflicted and foolish. Vicente could not understand the Count's attachment to his first wife. He began to wonder if the Count was undeserving of Abigale Lynn's affection...

With an agitated sigh, Vicente dismounted his horse. He stepped away and rubbed his temples, feeling guilty for his own thoughts and actions. He knew he had done the right thing, listening to Janus scream passionately hateful nonsense had solidified this. Still, he felt poorly over the entire ordeal. He thought again of Abigale Lynn. Her blank stare and faraway eyes had pained him so. He tried to soothe her before his Brother came. He knew that once Lucien presented himself to collect her, her little heart would break.

But such a thing can be mended, he rationalized as he stretched his overly tense limbs. Once she sees she is not in any danger, she will just need time to heal...and I have all the time in the world.

Again his thoughts disturbed him. He should not pine for his friend's woman. Yet his friend had not proven 'man enough' to be worthy of such a lady. Janus Hassildor could not control his temper and bullied the poor girl. He would push her into doing more, eventually. Vicente believed that should the Count get his way - which he often did - that soon there would be a crowning for a new Countess to Skingrad. As ludicrous as it sounded, it was nowhere near out of Janus' reach. Just some shuffling of papers and signature from the Chancellor and she would be a Duchess from Highrock or a young noble from an Imperial fort in Skyrim. Perhaps she was a bright young Scholar, born of wealthy stock, who hailed from the Mages Guild and the Count was simply 'solidifying' their now loose ties...

His gold could make much happen. Vicente would not be surprised if he hired his services to dispatch all the workers in Castle Skingrad who knew of the girl's true origin.

It was not fair. He had heard the Count's promise to 'make an honest woman' out of her. How romantic. The sad fact of the matter was that Abigale Lynn had no choice and Vicente could not intervene. No matter how jealous he was of his friend, he could not insert himself and try to stop the Count from doing whatever it was he wanted. It was not his place and Janus Hassildor was his friend. Right now, Janus was a terrible friend but Vicente knew inside he was currently no better.

All made him feel awful. He turned again to mount his horse, wondering what mental atrocities Lucien was implementing, when a little flower caught his eye and halted his movements. It was a single pale peony, all alone on its shrub, out of place and out of season. He eyed it for a moment, watching it sway in the breeze. It was pretty. It was alone.

Without a second thought, Vicente plucked it from the surrounding greenery.

XXXX

Lucien Lachance could not keep his wicked grin at bay as he looked down at the girl in his arms. She had fallen asleep some time ago and had unknowingly settled further into his embrace. He had been pleasantly surprised by this and quickly took advantage of her state. So, one gloved hand held Shadowmere's reigns while the other now bare hand had wrapped the girl's ponytail around his fingers. He rode like this for some time, quite pleased with his luck. Had he not 'teased' her to the point retching, she would have never worked herself into such a state or fallen asleep in his arms.

Nerah Vlando watched her Speaker with an expression of mortification. Her Master had always struck her as odd but his current glee only further disturbed her. She felt he looked much like a boy on his birthday, eyeing a handsomely wrapped gift, toying with its twine... "Speaker? My eye is twitching. Is that a side of vampirism or just a natural occurrence when in your more intimate company?" She again pushed the heel of her palm into the already sore socket. "I feel that it's you but I cannot look away. Like a terrible sword training accident. So many innocents impaled..."

"Innocents impaled?" He echoed, sounding far too intrigued and a touch aroused, to Nerah's utter horror. He gave the girl's hair a slight tug, earning a small pout from the still sleeping Abigale Lynn. "I can only hope to be so lucky." Nerah Vlando deeply pitied the sleeping girl. She knew her Master to be persuasive, manipulative and eerie but Abigale Lynn seemed to bring another side of him to light...he was perverted. She had often assumed such a thing, going by stories from her Family but to actually witness him in action was mentally scarring.

"With all due respect, Speaker, you make her vomit. Literally. She puked on your horse." She pointed out as tenderly as possible. Beating around the bush was not the young assassin's strong suit. Nor was keeping her mouth closed in general. She was lucky that her Speaker simply named her as an ignorant youth and disregarded most of her poor manners. Sometimes she was not so lucky and was justly punished for stepping out of line. However, while her Speaker was in a good humor, she could get away with much.

Her observation earned a wistful sigh. "We'll call it butterflies, Miss Vlando. Too much fluttering can make you ill." The Speaker hummed in thought as he looked over the girl against his chest. Nerah Vlando was beginning to regret her vampirism. She could feel her Master's 'emotions' far too much.

"Denial or butterflies, whatever you want to call it, I don't think you have a chance with her. I'm NOT trying to diminish your, erm, prowess but Lady Abigale is tied to the Count. I think both Vicente and Hassildor would eat you if you tried anything."

"Ah, yes, a valid point. But you are forgetting something." He untangled his hand from the girl's hair and pulled at the little amulet that was forced on her. "A miraculous little device. All I said to her was true, it is for her protection. We of the Brotherhood know she is untouchable and in need of our aid. However, its ability to sever magical ties is for our benefit. She cannot do magic while wearing it. Had she been a powerful mage with a vendetta masquerading around as an ally, it could have problematic. This stops such a thing from occurring...it also stops her ability to send magical signals, like to her vampire. He only knows she lives but he cannot tap into her life and 'feel' her as vampires so love doing." He further examined the amulet, eyes bright and mischievous. "If the Count of Skingrad doesn't know what she is feeling, it can only benefit me. For example, let us say she is angry...Hassildor will not know. In danger and frightened? Again, he will not know. In the throes of ecstasy, shouting my name at the top of her lungs? Still just a blissfully, clueless vampire."

Nerah watched as he allowed the amulet to again fall and settle back on the girl's breast, her curiosity piqued. "I'm a little confused. I thought that necklace was to protect her from you, Speaker."

"It certainly is. I have broken my word before regarding our little Countess here. So, naturally, ever careful Vicente has constructed a few obstacles for me. This is such an obstacle. But I am the Master of loopholes. Until I can convince her to remove it, I shall exploit the magical inhibitors of this trinket to the best of my ability."

The young assassin scratched her head, giving the now stirring girl another sympathetic glance. "Erm...is she really worth all of your attention? I mean she's very, very beautiful but..." Nerah Vlando thought back to the conversation she had with Abigale Lynn. The girl was green as grass, a literal innocent who was dealt a poor hand at life. She seemed happy to just exist and serve the Count of Skingrad. She knew nothing of pleasures and at the time had no desire to learn of them. Nerah felt pity for the girl who seemed to unknowingly lure and seduce lunatics. "She doesn't seem too interested in anything carnal or fun in general, Speaker. Lady Abigale is awful virginal and prudish. Hardly worth the effort, I'm sure. She won't know what she's doing."

Nerah Vlando tried to see her Speaker's expression. She knew it was a longshot but she hoped to dissuade her Master, even if a little. She did not like the constant pity she felt whenever looking at Abigale Lynn. Truthfully, Nerah did not like feeling anything but self-gratifying emotions. Characteristics like empathy were burdensome, as Vicente had often told her, but it could not be stifled. Vicente Valtieri, even after having walked Nirn for over three hundred years, could not always cut his emotions out of his actions either. She felt his advice was more contrary to his person, at least when in regards to Lady Abigale Lynn...

"Miss Vlando, I am sure our Brother and Hassildor would greatly appreciate your efforts in discouraging me. Unfortunately, it is a fruitless endeavor. I am far too curious." He made a light scoffing sound before giving Nerah a knowing look. "And according to a very disgruntled Vicente, Hassildor has somehow convinced this girl to climb into his bed. I hardly consider someone who sleeps with a vampire 'virginal'. Moreover, she is of Dibellan blood. It won't take much to get her going. Like a Dwemer puzzle box, it only takes just a few correct touches, find her erogenous zones and then watch her go." He laughed lightly then, causing Nerah to recoil. "How do you think Hassildor managed to bed her? His charm? Hardly. He simply watched and learned how to work her."

The young assassin rubbed the back of her neck. "Is sex with her really that important? I mean -"

"It certainly is, yes. She will be a great conquest, blue-ribbon worthy, I am sure. But there is much more...What makes her tick? She is not as a Dibellan should be. Our Brother knows her relatively well and he too says she is curious. I wholeheartedly agree...and on another note, she and I have a little bit of history." He smiled mischievously, a more dark and twisted look than his usual grin. "I met her mother, you see. But that is a secret you are forbidden to utter."

xxxx

I awoke to the sound of hoofbeats and gentle waters, light was shining down on my face. I looked up sluggishly and stared at branches above me. I watched on in confusion as they slowly passed me by. The pale pink and yellow clouds of dawn peaked through the sparsely budded trees. I turned my gaze to the large lake some distance off. It reflected the sky, shimmering and sparkling like precious gems. The waters hugged the great city isle. Nestled in the greenery on its perch stood the large and powerful Imperial City. The walls were impenetrable, thick and sturdy. Above all - vastly imposing and ever powerful - stood the White Gold Tower.

I continued to stare, sitting up slightly, so taken by the dawn over the city that I had yet to absorb anything else. It had been long since I saw the sun rise. It was beautiful and mesmerizing. It all changed before me slowly as the clouds gently twisted into different shapes and the trees swayed, sprinkling dew. I could have watched the endless sky forever. I smiled.

"Rendered silent at the beauty of the dawn? How very tragic." My smile fell, my heart sank, all coming back to me with a terrible speed. "Such shameful behavior of your Count. Denying his mortal companion the light of day? I personally cannot comprehend such cruelty." My world returned back to its normal state. I closed my eyes and attempted to pull away slightly from Lucien Lachance, hoping that he would not notice. "Now don't be coy. I've enjoyed your warmth the last few hours. I'd even go as far as to say the comfort was mutual. You were sleeping so soundly...Did you know you even make little faces while you dream? I so love your expressiveness."

I thought about being silent but knowing that I had fallen asleep in the arms of a murderer shocked me into speech. My throat felt raw but my voice still came out high and fearful in pitch. "You watched me sleep?" I leaned forward in the saddle, further away from Lachance. Although I was feeling very stiff and sore in the strangest of places, it paled in comparison to my mental strife.

"You'd be surprised how often I do such a thing." He chuckled, steering his mount to the side slightly. It was then that I noticed we were alone on the road. Nerah Vlando was nowhere in sight. "You can learn much by watching another sleep. It is also when you are at your most vulnerable." He cleared his throat loudly, demanding more attention. "Think about that for a moment and register your very unharmed and very untouched body."

With a very nervous air, I did just that. Of course, it would have been difficult for him to do much while steering a horse. Still, I took no chances and tried to pay close attention to my body, attempting to feel if something was off. I was thankful when nothing made itself known. "W-where is Miss Vlando?" I asked, feeling surprisingly more vulnerable now that I was alone with Lucien Lachance. Mindlessly, I toyed with the little amulet that had tangled in my hair.

"She is no doubt in a cozy little bed. I'm assuming the Wawnet Inn. We shall not be going there. Our business is in the city, as is our lodgings." I gulped. I did not want to be alone with Lachance. I hardly knew Nerah Vlando but I desperately missed her company. "I do hope you are feeling better. We have a few markets to visit and I intend to bring you along with me. I loathe shopping, your company will be a wonderful reprieve." I thought about my time in the Imperial City as a homeless beggar and sought to stop the memories. I tried not to let the past present itself. Lachance brought enough stress, I did not want more. Not knowing what to do or say I stayed quiet and rigid. "So, now that we are alone and you are finally awake, I am curious..."

I hunched into myself, freshly reminded of my isolation with Lachance. He seemed ever inquisitive, ever smiling and chuckling. His constant stable yet devious demeanor was exhausting. I was still in a mild state shock from all. "Did you appreciate my gift to you? I'm certain you know what I am speaking of." Again I froze, the image of the bloodied baker's cap flashed in my mind's eye. I had spent many sleepless nights thinking of the ordeal. I was not sure how to feel about it. The act was horrible and his death was gruesome. Deep down I eventually came to terms with the horrible fact that I was not as repulsed as I should have been. The baker was an awful man to me. I was only human and could not help but to be numb to his demise.

"I..." I did not know what to say. If I spoke the truth it could encourage him to further pursue me. If I lied, I feared the repercussions. Would he kill again on my behalf in an attempt to please me? It was foolish but I felt lying would make all worse, especially for those around me. I would be honest even though it shamed me. "I-I did think...it...maybe in a small way."

He sighed happily then flicked the hood from my head, letting the light hit me fully. "That is good. He must have done something dreadful to warrant your anger. The moment I saw your pretty red hair, I knew I had to get your attention. Your absolute rejection of my charm only made me want to know you more. I believed one as beautiful as you was certainly worth such a grand gesture. Flowers are so very conventional and hardly make a noteworthy impression. I wanted you to remember me."

"Remember you?" I repeated. His words made my eyes widen, his way of thinking was more than startling. "Was your violating me not memorable enough?" I nearly sputtered, unable to firmly grasp his madness. I squeezed the amulet, trying to find comfort in its protection. "Y-you ruined everything! I was happy and you ruined it."

"A thousand apologies, Little Countess. I can admit that I was a bit carried away by your beauty that night." I turned to stare unbelievingly at him, at the horribly insane man. I watched as he too pulled back his hood, finding that he looked much less threatening in the light of day. He saw me watching him and smiled. "You are so very lovely...it is addictive. Can you ever forgive me for it? It was only a little accident."

"Y-you have been making threats ever since!" I stammered, having to turn away. I could not look at him. I could not fathom his nonsense. My cheeks flushed with rage. "You do not want forgiveness. You only wish to torment me more."

"Am I so easily read? What a shame. I shall endeavor to brush up on my acting skills." I felt a sudden light tugging at the back of my neck, then my hair fell freely around me. My face flushed further. Lucien Lachance, for some unfathomable and no doubt perverse reason, had untied the ribbon in my hair. I went to gather it, but his hand touching mine as I reached back was an effective deterrent. I glared again at the road, regripping the saddle with a hateful and embarrassed blush. "You seemed tense. Is this not better?" He snickered, running his fingers through my hair. "I shall be honest, I have been insatiably curious about your hair. I've wanted to see it down and in the light of day. It does not disappoint. Thank you for being so amenable to my desires."

Like cool silk. The feeling sent a chill down my spine and I could not stop my slight tremor that followed. "Amenable? Y-you did not ask my permission."

"No? I thought I did. Must have imagined it. Again, another thousand apologies." I felt relief for the briefest moment as he removed his hand from my tresses. However, it was short-lived as it then instead settled on my hip. "But if you did not mind terribly that I play with your hair, perhaps you will indulge me more? I simply would love to see how those pretty locks of yours would look on a pillowcase. You would need to be in the bed of course, but clothing and blankets are entirely optional."

I pulled away from him, aghast and angry. "No."

"No? No, you do not mind or no, you don't want to wear any clothes? Please be specific."

With extreme difficulty, I tried to calm myself. He was trying to provoke me and it was working. I did not know why he wished to aggravate and frighten me so but I was sure he had his warped and awful reasons. "I do not want any of those things," I said with the slightest waver in my voice, clutching the amulet tighter. "A-and you cannot make me. I am wearing the necklace and you swore n-not to harm me."

"Now I thought I told you I would have you willing? I do not want to harm you, Abigale. If I did I would have done so already, most likely while you were in the Maids Quarters of Skingrad, sleeping peacefully in your little bed." My blood turned to ice. It was no surprise to me that Lucien Lachance knew where I mostly resided in Castle Skingrad. Still, something struck me as odd when he spoke. There was a knowing in his speech - like a secret. "And I have no intentions of forcing you into anything you do not want. But I warn you - soon, I shall have you begging me to take that little jewel off and touch you. Don't worry, I will not disappoint, I give my word on that."

I swallowed hard, my suspicion was long forgotten due to his lewd 'predictions'. Not sure how to deter him, I shook my head and again denied him. "Please stop. I...I do not want...I am the Count's. I have told you this before." I tried to be gentle. Some men took refusal as a challenge, apparently. If I was too strong he may think I was baiting him. If I was too lax he may think me inviting. It was difficult to find a balance, especially when the man I was trying to deny was the embodiment of my repulsion to his sex.

"I don't see his name on you." He said with a grin while examining my face but then his smile faltered. He gently touched my earlobe, looking perplexed. "Well now, how very decorated you are." He flicked the diamonds on my ear, looking a small bit annoyed. I half wondered way but was too relieved that his examination of my face stopped. His irritancy soon faded and he again lit up. "He gives you earrings and you spread your legs, correct? I gifted you a handsome necklace...what does that get me?" I sighed and looked to the slowly approaching city. I could not wait to get off his horse.

xxxx

I was told to stay close and I had to obey. At the city stables, Lucien Lachance paid extra to have Shadowmere tended too, giving me a knowing look all the while. He also quickly disrobed and I silently thanked the Gods when I saw that he was fully clothed under all the black cloth. I was also made to remove my cloak, despite the morning chill. Lachance had said the crest of Skingrad was too curious and could rouse suspicion. I believed it offended him. He did not like the Count.

We entered the city gates and I was again reminded of the first time I beheld the sight. I had been so taken by the beauty then. Now, with Lucien Lachance's hand firmly planted on my shoulder, I thought more of the tragedies and discomforts I was once forced to face. He steered me to a small alcove, the sun hardly reaching us in its shadow and fussed with his pack. "This may be uncomfortable for you, due to your recent unorthodox proposal, but you are now my fiance." I blinked and looked up to Lucien Lachance in bewilderment, shaking my head. "We certainly don't look anything alike, therefore we will not pass as siblings. And with marriage being such a delicate matter to you, I think engagement is best."

I was confused for only a minute. Once I realized that he was simply fabricating a story for us, I again shook my head. "Can we not be step-siblings?" I asked quietly.

"Too wordy." He snorted, finally righting his supplies. "Can you not stomach even a false engagement? Poor Hassildor will be crushed when you say no. Be reasonable, Abigale." I watched him straighten with a glare. He too eyed me from down the bridge of his nose with a wry little smirk, as if daring me to comment. I kept my distance from him, back pressed to the stone we were beneath and found myself mindlessly studying his features. In the light of day, he was not so frightening.

Lucien Lachance was young, looking to be only a decade or so older than me. His features were strong. His face somehow appeared to be a strange balance of suave and ruggedly handsome. His skin was a healthy alabaster shade, there was slight bruising around his eyes from a night of constant riding. His lips were full and seemed always to be pulled into a little smile. There was a small cleft in his chin which was shadowed lightly by his facial stubble. His eyes were curious and searching. Being near black in color, his stare felt endless.

He kept his dark brown hair in a ponytail that fell just above his shoulder blades. He seemed to like the color green, the long-sleeved belted tunic he wore was a deep olive shade. I thought the color complimented his features and made him appear much less harsh. Without his black robes and the cover of night, Lucien Lachance could be attractive. Could. His behavior was far too ugly. He taunted and jeered. He murdered and violated. Looks were deceiving.

I thought of the Count then and how he frightened me so when I first began to serve him. Although handsome, he was so very big, critical and imposing. The way his eyes would glow as he watched me often kept me awake at night. Watching his large fangs as he spoke left me dumbstruck. But looks indeed were deceiving. He could be so gentle to me, so kind. He did so much to make me smile. He had made me so happy...

I dropped my gaze to my shoes, defeated by my own thoughts. "I am sorry, Sir."

"Sir?" Lachance repeated, causing my stomach to again twist. My head snapped up quickly at the echo of my words. I paled and watched him with utter mortification. I prayed that he would not pay my accidental slip any more mind. "Not what one usually calls their beloved but...oh. Oh." Another smile quickly formed and dominated Lachance's features once he saw my face. "I see. Slip of the tongue? Forget where you were for the briefest moment?" I looked away and swallowed hard. "Sir. How modest of the Count to allow you to address him in such a way. I do wish I had a mirror. You look so very lost right now. It is rather sad."

I bit into my lip to hold off tears and hugged myself. "I know I am lost, I need no mirror." I did not want to cry in Lachance's presence but he was right and it hurt me. I was lost in every aspect of the word.

His smile fell as he observed me, his brow slightly quirked. He continued to look me over mutely, his unwavering stare made the little hairs on the back of neck stand on end. "I have once read about a rather peculiar condition. It is a sickness that affects those who are held against their will. Over a time, they begin to feel for their captor. They will trust and even love them. They wish to please and empathize...it is a method of survival. An instinct." I was again given an awkward and jarring pat to the head. "Perhaps your feelings for the Count have stemmed from such a condition. I would not doubt it."

He adjusted the strap on his pack and lead the way out of the alcove. I paid no attention to his words. Instead, I hastily wiped away the tears from my eyes while his back was turned. "Come along, beloved. Much to do." I followed him out, my moves all shambles. He held an arm out to me and eyed it meaningfully. For the longest time, I simply stood and looked at his arm. When I finally gained the strength to take it, I had to look away as I did so. Willingly taking the arm of Lucien Lachance burned me. "Try not to frown so. We'll talk of other things. Hmm, less depressing topics...Let us get to know one another. What is your favorite color?"

XXXX

The Count of Skingrad remained in bed, staring up at his canopy, arms folded behind his head. He let his mind wander, still not ready to dress or even remove himself from his covers. Janus felt strangely disconnected from his Abigale Lynn. He tried to feel her but could not. It was disheartening. She managed to pull herself away from him fully when she left the Castle. He could feel her life, her shyness, and her natural curiosity but no more than that. He wondered what she was doing that absorbed and calmed her so.

His mind wandered further as he thought of her face and the feel of her warm skin. He greatly missed her bright eyes and her pretty smile. Janus wanted to hear her voice and touch her hair. He wanted his love back terribly. He was, of course, still very angry. The Count had done his best to be a good Master to Abigale Lynn. For the most part, he felt he was. It all fell apart once they became lovers: first when he tried confessing his feelings, then when he brought her to Rona. He would not take back either deed although he often visited the memory of her denial.

He wondered what would happen if he made his intentions plainer. What if he kissed her then to stop her nonsensical and false conclusions? He could see her horrified face in his mind. No...that would not have ended well. Abigale Lynn was skittish when it came to most shows of affection. Everything had to be carefully presented. So what if he simply ordered her not to speak until he had finished? Would she still have found a way to twist his words? He doubted it but all would have probably overwhelmed her, regardless.

Janus sighed in irritation. He loved Abigale Lynn but she was so very frightened of him. The Count thought he had successfully worn away most of her fears but it was not so...more upsetting still was that he did not hate her anxiety. He supposed it was his vampirism as he never remembered harboring such darkness before. Knowing that he could have her full attention at the drop of a septim was addictive and her worry would drive her to do anything to please him. She did try anything to please him but fear was an excellent motivator and made her try that much harder.

Again, he suspected his vampirism. If he could, he would have her on him always - not necessarily in a carnal way, either. He just wanted to feel her, smell her and hold her. She was his. He wanted to...nest with her? He knew that to be a characteristic of vampires. Like wolves in packs and witches in covens, vampires made families. The Count's 'family' was tragically small. One had not moved in over fifty years, the other was the most cantankerous lizard he had ever known, and lastly there was his Abigale Lynn; his pretty little love who often made him question his sanity.

He often felt like his mind was whisked away by the Mad God, for he felt torn in two. On one hand, he wanted to shower Abigale Lynn with love and affection. He wanted to fawn over her, dote on her and do anything and everything to make her smile. He loved her smile... But on the other hand, he wanted to hold her down so that he may touch her. He wanted to sink his teeth into her supple flesh a thousand times over. To taste her blood on his lips as he enjoyed the heat of her sex.

There was still so much about his vampirism that he had yet to understand. He did not have to face these feelings and thoughts because there was never a reason to when he was alone. However, Abigale Lynn brought a new bought of desires and ideas with her constant presence. In life, he felt he was a simple man with simple 'wants'. With an exceedingly religious and pious wife, most of these wants were never realized. He could count on his hand the acts that were 'allowed' in their marital bed. Although Janus himself did not believe that the Divines actively intervened with the peoples of Nirn, nor did he understand why they would care what he and his wife did beneath bedsheets, he still tried to be respectful.

It was ridiculous but he obeyed and honored his wife's wishes. He supposed he had his fill of things that were sinful before his marriage. Skingrad Court was full of pleasing women and its halls were full of pretty maids. He never had to even try for attention, they threw themselves at him. After all, he was heir to the throne of Skingrad, they simply used him as he did them. They wanted gold and family favor...he was a boy who simply wanted to be up their dresses. But all that quickly changed. What a shock it was once he married and his wife refused to sleep with him. He laughed dryly at the memory.

XXXX

A very young Janus Hassildor stood in his room pouting. He could hear his ever boisterous father talking excitedly in the hallway. Janus, however, did not share his enthusiasm. He was moping. Positively dull, tired and indifferent. Hours ago he had been married. The celebration was far too extravagant and the ceremony itself was needlessly lengthy. His knees still ached from having been kneeling on the chapel floor for so long. It had all been so tedious. He wanted it done with before it began. He said his vows, he swore to be good and he meant what he said. Had he been afraid? Extremely. It was all so odd, marrying a stranger.

Rona Hassildor. It did not sound right. She certainly did not look like Hassildor material. Then again, she had yet to look in his direction. It was no great loss to Janus, as his wife had not yet proven even worthy of his stare, despite his absolute sincerity in their vows.

No, she did not look like a Hassildor. She was tall and stood proudly - which was good but her head was held too highly like the floor had insulted her family name. She was covered in freckles, which he did not mind so much but her skin was very tanned. He felt it looked unnatural on her and he wondered if she spent all her time in the fields or marshes playing with her lizard friends...

There was a knock on the door and a servant walked in, bearing a large goblet of wine on a silver platter. Janus drank it greedily and pulled at the collar of his tunic. He was unsure how well he would perform this evening. He felt unreasonably guilty at the thought of bedding his new wife. She seemed so cold and disinterested. Her entire self had yet to stir any semblance of desire in him. He had about as much 'passion' to know her intimately as he had to know her as a person. He knew this night was going to be a difficult one. He silently cursed conjugal rights. There is nothing 'right' about it. He mentally whined, shooing his servant before pacing around his bed.

His new wife had the body of a twelve-year-old boy - as his friend Umbranox kindly put it, earning himself a strike to the back of the head from Janus. She was eighteen, only four years younger than he but Umbranox had a point...she did not yet look like a woman. He wondered if she ever would. If not for her long hair and dress she could be mistaken for a boy. Of course, she was not ugly but he had yet to see her smile and her constant snotty expression did her no favors. Pretty or not, she looked like a child and had yet to open her mouth and prove to him otherwise.

He groaned and gave a nearby dresser a little kick in passing, embarrassed for doing so once he heard another knock on the door. His stomach dropped as he knew who it was this time. He greatly hesitated before allowing his wife to enter. He would try to be charming, he would try to be nice...maybe he would break open a bottle of extremely vintage wines and hope that she drank herself stupid, blacked out and fell asleep before he had to do 'his duty to Skingrad' - as his mother kindly put it...

He had little hopes that she would speak to him. Janus wanted to believe that her beauty lived within her. Maybe they would find common ground there. She could be clever and humorous. Perhaps she would be shy? He found he quite liked bashful women, they proved to be so gentle and sweet. So long as she was not rude he could make it work, even if secretly it irked him. His bother would inevitably pass with time.

Janus was then taken aback and startled, unable to suppress the inevitable jump when he met a pair of glowing reptilian eyes. "Good evening, young Lord Hassildor." The Argonian more hissed than spoke, her thick accent making her already raspy words difficult to understand. She stepped aside so he could view his 'wife' who was currently staring off angrily at nothing again. "Lady Rona." The Agronian bowed and left. Janus was no fan of the current beastfolk in his father's Castle, however, he did not want to be alone with his wife and was very saddened that he now was.

He cleared his throat and eyed his bride. For perhaps the first time since they were introduced, she met his gaze. Janus found himself intimidated by the hateful look, more so as he was bound to the person who held it... "Won't you come in?" He tried to say kindly, evenly. Her light brown eyes narrowed slightly but she entered his chamber. Janus passed a nervous hand through his hair and let out a breath. He looked over the robe that she was wearing, a pale yellow color, laced up tightly to her chin. He wanted to pay her a compliment, to say something nice but he was having difficulty finding anything on her that he could comment genuinely on. "May I get you anything?" He finally managed, sounding tense and frustrated with himself.

The Lady Rona surveyed his room, eyes flicking to him as he spoke. "It seems you have everything I could need within reach." Janus blinked. It was the most she had said to him since their first meeting. She dragged a finger along the dresser he had kicked moments ago and eyed the absence of dirt. "Thus far, your reputation proceeds you. Skingrad is luxurious and clean...yet dry. Dry as a bone or parchment. Richly lackluster. It is as I expected." She shot him a look and her clipped tones were eating away at the young Janus' already poor temper. Rudeness was the one thing he would not tolerate. "Your Castle is grand and devote. However, I have yet to see a single religious symbol in this chamber. Have you no faith?"

Janus' brows slowly rose as stared hard at the woman before him. His bedchamber was quaint and airy. Relatively neat as well, if one looked passed the several open books and scrolls. It clicked with sickening slowness. She was a fanatic to the Divines. It certainly explained the ridiculously long ceremony. "Religious symbols?" He repeated, his look turning skeptical, his words a bit harsh. He cocked his head to the side. "The bed has been blessed. What more is needed?"

"Much." She deadpanned. Strangely, though, the Lady Rona began to undress. Despite this being his wife he looked away, more out of annoyance rather than decency. "I understand you have a Nordic lineage on your mother's side but that does not excuse barbarity or heathenism." Janus bristled, his teeth clenched. She is only nervous, as I am. He tried to rationalize. She is simply coping differently. He took a deep breath and sought composure. Unfortunately, she again saw fit to insult him. "Although, I suppose that does explain the rumors of your behavior. I hear tell you enjoy both violence and women. Bloodshed is savagery and your insatiable lust is sinful."

"I am all yours now, wife." Janus snapped venomously, glaring at the woman who merely scoffed and pulled back the bedcovers. "You shall have to endure your savage, barbaric husband."

"Fine." The Lady Rona said stiffly as she sat down and fluffed the pillows. "But do not think of touching me. I may be your wife but you are yet a Count. I will not obey a husband who has no rule and who is also an unabashed heretic with no moral code of honor."

The insults rolled off of him as he realized that he did not have to lie with his wife. For a moment he was stunned then he too began to undress, feeling angry but shockingly relieved. "Fine." He flopped into bed. His wife blew out the candle on the bedside table. Janus pulled a book from under his pillow and lit the largest candle on his nightstand, making sure to maneuver it justly to maximize its glow. He then proceeded to get comfortable, which involved much moving of pillows and rough jerking of covers. All his actions and movements finally earned him a death glare from the Lady Rona. All settled in with one hand behind his head and book held out before him in the other, he met her gaze evenly. "Endure my barbarity, wife."

---

Author's Notes: Phew! Another long chapter! Love it? Hate it? Let me know! I feel like I was supposed to write something down here but I forgot...oops. XD Umm...catchy title is catchy, eh? I could not think of a decent one XD