Author's Notes: You guys rock! Thank you for all the reviews and messages! I'm enjoying making this fic so much and have been writing whenever I get a free second! Your feedback really keeping me going, I know I sound like a broken record but it's so true. I'm having way too much fun with this story. Oh, not too much Hassildor in this chapter but we do get to see some behind the scenes creepary from the Count, which is always nice! 8D

Love or Blood

Chapter Fifty: The Third Revelation

xxxx

The Imperial City was much like how I remembered it. Even in the early morning, it was bright and noisy. I found myself clinging to Lucien Lachance, despite me not wanting to touch him. Not only was I ordered to stay close but the streets were full of people. My heart began to hammer in my chest. It had been a long time since I was so surrounded by many nameless faces. I felt bombarded by all the unusual sounds and stares. I used the assassin's body to lean against for support. It was also very cold and the thin material dress I wore did little to help fend off the chill. I wondered if Lachance had me discard my cloak purposely so that I would hold onto him for warmth. It did not seem unlikely.

He was strangely warm, I noticed. Even through his clothes, I could feel the heat emanating from him. I had not touched anyone but the Count in quite some time, so the feeling was curious. I was used to the Count's hands and caresses that were as cool as stone and I had found comfort in them. I had forgotten the normal warmth of mortals. Of course, there was the Stewardess. She tended to me often but she was an Argonian and her blood ran cold as well. Any accidental brush or touch from Tualga was fleeting and I paid it no attention, or I was not in my right mind to register it at all...

As we walked, I let my fingertips mindlessly absorb the feeling of him, trying to disconnect the person who was attached to the comfortable sensation. However, Lucien Lachance was shockingly observant. He seemed to notice every little thing I did and was all too happy to respond 'accordingly'. I supposed his line of deceitful work regularly called for him to be perceptive. He apparently needed to be aware of everything.

He wrapped an arm around my body and pulled me closer as we walked. "Your favorite color is red. Your favorite food is 'anything edible'. You read for fun and to simply pass time. Your favorite flower is 'a pretty one' and you do not like surprises. Hmm...you are either evasive or deliberately dull. I think a bit of both." I nodded to him. I saw no need to answer him verbally this time. Lucien Lachance was needlessly persistent in his questioning. Thankfully, they were still innocent inquiries. Nevertheless, I had no intentions of giving any more information on myself than what was commanded of me. "But from what I know of you thus far, you would most likely take 'dull' as a compliment. It adds to this plain image you so strive for...I am learning much. I shall think of you as a mystery unless you prove otherwise."

"I am no mystery," I grumbled, made bitter from the cold and his incessant questioning. "I answer you honestly. I cannot be sorry if you do not like my response."

"You are secretly feisty." He remarked with a grin as he led us around several large packing crates. "You cannot hide it always. But it is to be expected as it goes with your hair. Pure fire." I shook my head and looked away. The madman could think and say whatever he liked. His opinions did not matter. "Yet you are a fearful creature. This 'ordinary and boring girl' nonsense is a disguise. I'm guessing Nirn has often pulled you apart, leaving you to pick up the pieces. Now you wish to hide in the crowd to prevent this from reoccurring. But you are unable to hide. You unwillingly scream for attention without ever uttering a sound."

Swallowing hard, I found myself unable to brush aside this observation. I had heard a similar comment on several occasions.

I shook my head again but much more slowly this time. We had stopped by an open tavern door, I hardly registered the sudden halt to our movements. Lachance smiled up at the sign that was gently swinging from the frigid breeze. "Do you think you can stomach food, beloved? I quite like it here." He said with surprising lightness. "We shall have a short rest and warm ourselves...unless you would permit me to warm you in other ways? We can go to our lodgings early." Lachance offered with a sly little smile. For the third time, I shook my head, while carefully stepping away from the assassin. "I thought not. However, no one has ever succeeded by not trying, my dear." He took my arm and lead me inside before I strayed out of his immediate reach. "Look, we are in luck! They are serving your favorite food here. All is edible."

Lucien Lachance steered us to a table in the back of the tavern by a blazing hearth. I was grateful for its warmth and scooted the chair I was placed in as close to the flames as possible. I was also grateful to not have to touch the madman for a moment, as he left to purchase food. I hastily rubbed my arms and hands, trying desperately to return heat to them. I stared into the fire, I tried not to think but the dancing flames reminded me all too much of the Count's large fireplace. I had spent so many nights by it and I missed the intricate carvings terribly.

Lachance returned minutes later with an obscenely large amount of food. Truthfully, I felt it was enough to feed a small army. Dishes were loaded with meat, fruit, and eggs. There were also many other things that I thought were strange to eat for breakfast. I simply sat and watched as he placed all before himself and smiled. "Now, this is all for me but do not worry, I am feeding you as well." He gently placed a small bowl of oats before me, looking smug. "Bland and tasteless. We would not want to over excite your exceedingly dry palate." I accepted the bowl and said nothing. He was again hoping to get a rise out of me but it was not working. He had guessed right, I did like oats. Lachance watched me with interest as I began to push around the food oddly. I was very hungry but I was unsure if I could eat while he was watching me and I was unsure as to why. "I am joking. You do not have to eat that slop. Help yourself to any of this." He said suddenly, gesturing to the large spread of food.

"No thank you," I muttered quickly, again shifting in my seat.

"I would not feed that to my horse, nor would she accept it," Lachance commented, giving my bowl a critical glance. He pushed a plate with a wide variety of fruit on it to me. I watched him nervously. "You need not be so stubborn. Do not torment yourself trying to prove a point."

"I have no point to prove. I-I like this." I answered hesitantly, waiting for the conversation to end so I could eat. I did not understand his mild moral outrage, nor did I truly care. I wanted him to look away and leave me alone for a moment.

"Why? What about it do you like?" He asked, eyeing the bowl inquisitively, leaning forward as he did so. Sighing deeply, I pushed the dish before him so he did not need to come any closer to me. His black eyes shifted to my face, the look expectant. "...Well?"

In that moment I was suddenly struck with the strangest of sensations. I felt I had been in a situation so similar to this one. The realization of it frightened me and stole away my appetite. The memory was so clear...

"But what do you like about it, exactly?" The Count asked, looking passed me to the picture on the wall - the very picture I was beginning to despise. Why did he ask more questions? Why did he ask more words? Did he not see the apron I was forced to forever wear? Did he forget my enslavement or proper behavior?

I was so utterly confused that I had abandoned all attempts at keeping up formal poise. I was turned into a bewildered maid and I showed it plainly. "Sir?…"

There was a long silence. The Count did not look at me nor did he repeat his question but I could almost feel his expectancy. He wanted me to willingly answer him. I did not understand why he cared to ask me anything. Regardless, I swallowed hard and took it as an order.

What did I like the most about this picture?

"The sky."

I looked away, not wanting to answer, knowing fully well that Lucien Lachance was watching me carefully. My hand trembled as I placed some hair behind my ear. I was very afraid to speak although I was not certain why. Lachance continued to stare, his dark brows quirked. Not knowing what to do or say, I nervously toyed with my sleeve. Of course, he noticed this too. "What a dreadful lapse of silence over oats. See? You are mysterious." He plopped the bowl before me again, the movement startling me. "Well, I am sure you have your reasons. Enjoy your slop but feel free to wander here to more edible foods."

I was thankful that he finally decided to eat. With his eyes off of me, I carefully did the same. I was no longer hungry but it had been nearly a day since I had anything to sustain me and Lucien Lachance was draining any reserves of energy I had. Occasionally, I would watch him eat. He was not barbaric as I had expected him to be. He ate strategically, wielding cutlery like an artist would a brush. The simple actions made me nervous. Watching him proficiently slice into thick meat with a flimsy knife had me thinking of how expertly he would handle a proper one.

"When is the last time you shared a meal with someone while not being the main course?" Lachance asked me suddenly, my eyes darting from his hands to his face. As his words sank in, I flushed from anger and embarrassment. "Do be honest and have no fear - no one is listening to us. It was one of the many reasons why I like it here."

I looked away, thankful that I ate my fill before he posed his question. It was no doubt another command. With an indignant sigh, I answered him honestly. "Not as long as you may think. I worked in the Maids Quarters. I shared with many."

"Many men?" He asked again before taking another bite from his plate. I shook my head and eyed the nearly vanished spread.

"None."

"When was the last time you ate with a man and he partook in the food?" I chewed my lip in thought, again wondering why he cared to know such a thing. It had been years since I had last eaten with a man. I could not remember an exact time I did so. Even in Anvil, I had rarely seen my father for meals due to his post. Regardless, I did not see the significance of it. I did not understand why it mattered. "Your silence speaks volumes, my dear." He smirked, finally finished with his meal. "I feel like quite the specimen by your stare - truly a marvel. Had I not known of your predicament, I would have thought I sprouted a second head. Your interest is obvious."

I wrung my hands beneath the table, avoiding Lachance's gaze. Normally, I would have felt guilty for staring at another and getting caught doing so. I did not like being looked at, I knew well how uncomfortable it was, so I tried to refrain from doing so. Lucien Lachance, however, did not have my guilt. All he did was stare and touch me as if he knew how deeply it disturbed me. He derived pleasure from my discomfort and did not hide it by any means. I could not pity him but I still felt obligated to apologize. "I am sorry for staring."

"No, you are not. Sorry for getting caught, perhaps. No more than that, I am sure." He reclined in his chair, arms folded behind his head, boots placed on the empty seat to his right and grinned. "You can relax, my dear lady. I am not cross with you for staring. I enjoy it. Your eyes are lovely, although I am sure you've heard that more times than you can count." Lachance looked me over from down the bridge of his nose, his expression mischievous. "Speaking of 'count' there is something I must point out in regards to said walking relic. Now, I hate to be the man to point these things out but it really must be said...The name Janus is, in fact, a woman's name."

xxxx

Lucien Lachance placed his hand on my hip for roughly the sixth time. My entire body stiffened involuntarily, as though I had been hit with a minor shock spell. I again attempted to move away, being as stealthy as possible but all was in vain, as I was again pulled close. It was a continuous cycle, almost like an exhausting dance or game - a game that I felt Lachance was enjoying far too much.

I was made to hold a small satchel as we walked. Lachance had us visit several shops and bought many things that I thought questionable for his profession. He purchased many alchemical ingredients, lacquers, soul gems, oils, and waxes. There were many mages in the stores he visited. The supplies he needed did seem more fitting for a student of the arcane rather than an assassin but I knew nothing of his methods for his work. I was blissfully ignorant and wanted to stay that way.

Eventually, he brought us to an armorer. For obvious reasons, it was stocked with more of what I expected him to require for his occupation. The shop was dark, which my eyes were thankful for as the light of day proved too overbearing for me. The last time I had seen the sunshine I had met Lucien Lachance. Now I was with him again in the light of day. It was almost as if he brought the sun wherever he went, it was an odd and slightly disturbing pattern. I did not think enduring his company was yet worth the day.

My vision slowly adjusted to the darkness and I found myself nearly enclosed by a vast assortment of arms. Blades, bows, axes and other weapons I could not name, lined the shelves and were boldly presented. They gleamed under dim Magelights, looking both beautiful and deadly. Lachance strode by them all, paying the many daunting looking blades little mind. A lump formed in my throat as I was suddenly very alerted to my surroundings and the assassin who I had to follow. This was his element and it frightened me.

I tried to distance myself from him once more, hoping to perhaps stay close to the doorway rather than venture forth into the shop. Unfortunately, Lucien Lachance was soon alerted to my apprehensiveness. He caught me lingering from him and watched as I scooted away from several lethal dirks. A little smirk slowly twisted along his lips. The Magelight's glow, that I had moments ago enjoyed for its gentleness became eerie as it shadowed him. He beckoned me closer and I reluctantly obeyed. He was now very aware of the abundance of deadly weaponry - all that he had moments ago exhibited no interest in. But as was the madman's nature, he was all too eager to exploit my fears.

He pulled me against him quickly, emitting a happy little sigh. "This is but another store I am very fond of. What do you think of it, beloved? Is it not an extraordinary selection?" I was more than uncomfortable with him around the many blades and he seemed to leech off of my anxiety. I managed a timid nod, not daring to speak. My throat felt tight and I knew that if I spoke it would be broken and afraid, just as he wanted. He kept me firmly to him, walking us back over to the table I had moments ago withered from. Lachance wedged me between himself and the display. I was forced to stare down at the shimmering metal, my hair standing on end. The madman remained behind me with a hand on my shoulder. To my utmost horror, he reached out and picked up a wicked looking blade.

I felt my blood run cold. He leaned down to my ear, much like he had done countless times on our journey along the Gold Road. I swallowed hard and eyed the very sharp point of the dagger. "Do you know what this one is good for?" He asked in a whisper, running a finger along the sinister edge. My heart hammered in my ears as I stared at the blade before me. I wanted to shake my head at him but I was far too afraid to move with the blade so close and in his hands. I was again reminded of being held by Lachance in the alleyway, watching him examine his dagger before turning his attention back to me...

"No," I answered, mindlessly. My eyes were wide and fearful, I pressed my back against him just to be away from the awful weapon.

"Not even a guess?" He mused playfully, letting the blade twirl effortlessly in his fingers. "Then I shall tell you...it is good for nothing. Here," He took my hand and I bit my lip hard to keep from pulling away. Lachance turned the blade again and placed my fingers along the metal, the steel felt shockingly cold. "Do you feel that? The blade has the slightest of bows. Such a bend, even though small, would affect how it is wielded; the imperfection would alter the direction of the dagger's ark, no doubt." He again twisted the blade, guiding my hand to its hilt. "The coloring is off and the make is odd. Daggers, as we both well know, are made for close proximity. Yet such a flimsy blade would have much difficulty puncturing anything. One would think to use this for slashing but again this weapon disappoints. The steel has no width, which is important, as it is nowhere near thick enough to make an adequate slice."

My heart was still beating so loudly that I had trouble hearing him over it. I did not know why my fears prompted this horrible lesson from him. I decided it was best that I did not understand. With extreme caution, I removed my hand from his own and the blade. "F-fascinating." I eventually managed with a very audible waver in my voice.

"Indeed. You said you enjoyed reading, did you not? I assumed that means you like learning too." Lachance placed the dirk back down on the table before us, his grip quickly returning to my hip. His face was smug, he knew well what he was doing. Him holding any blade terrified me and he took great pleasure in this. "Luckily for you, I know a great deal about metal and its imperfections. Perhaps later I can show you what an effective blade looks like." My expression changed dramatically. He chuckled at it. "An innocent suggestion," He added fast, his voice again dropping to a whisper. "No bloodshed." He gave my amulet a quick tap, causing me to jump. Lachance turned and walked away to the shopkeep's counter. "I wouldn't if I could, beloved. I wouldn't if I could."

xxxx

I had been made to suffer through his lesson at the armory all so he could purchase a strange stone from the smith. Thankfully, he had effectively lost interest in my fear as the shopkeep's haggling grabbed his attention. After that, he walked us to a jeweler where he purchased two amulets. One closely resembled the one I was to wear while the other was much more plain. I did not like that store either. Lachance was again keen to torment me and continued to do so as we left the shop.

"You are so very picky. There were easily fifty rings in there. Did you really not like any?" He continued to tease to my great dismay. I clenched my jaw and shook my head, doing my best to keep from glaring. "That is very counterproductive. Here I had hoped that I could assist your Count in finding you a suitable ring. Not so...Drat." I mindlessly pulled at the satchel on my shoulder. "It is good that he wishes to marry you. I know, I know, not your favorite topic. Still, it shows his devotion. He was not always so honorable, or so I've heard."

"Really." I more stated than asked, knowing now that he fed off of my lack of response. I hoped that my tone would deter him. However, Lachance again saw fit to bait me, regardless.

"Yes, really." He was ever determined in his harassment. I fought the urge to roll my eyes and instead focused on the road as he lead us up some stone steps. "He was quite the womanizer in his youth. Enjoyed one too many ladies and then some. Your Count was so wracked with diseases that had vampirism not taken him the syphilis would have." This time I could not help but to shoot him a dirty look. It encouraged him further. "You see, they did not use any protective means back when he was young as they did not see the importance of it. You must remember this was very, very long ago. But do not fear, the diseases died with him. Vampires are immune to such things, beloved." We stopped before another shop and I dreaded entering. It would no doubt spur more nonsense from him. Despite trying as hard as I could, his words were hard to ignore. "Perhaps this all works out to your benefit, though. He is nothing if not experienced."

With another charming smile, he pushed open the door for me. I was thankful for the distraction and walked into the shop without hesitation. Upon doing so I faltered, rendered silent and inquisitive. We stood in a lavish bookstore, a place I often walked by as a beggar but was never able to see inside of. I stared up at the many well-stocked shelves, eyeing the colorful spines and elegant bindings with excitement that was hard to conceal. This shop, as well as many others, had alway been a mystery to me. The dirty and poor were watched carefully by the Legion and never permitted to enter stores. Actually stepping foot inside felt surreal, I was surprised that I had forgotten about the small building's existence.

I wondered what Lucien Lachance needed in the bookstore. I silently prayed that he would again haggle with the proprietor so I could glimpse the many titles. "You look like a child in a sweets shop." The assassin said, stepping to my side. "It is highly amusing. You are easily excitable. Go on and pick one, beloved." My excitement quickly faded and I eyed the shelves again, this time with despair. I had no money and Lachance knew this. I was positive that if I picked a book I would 'owe' him. I would not fall into such a trap. Immediately, I grew angry at having something I so liked used as a weapon. I stiffened and turned my head away from him.

"No thank you."

Lachance scoffed, looking genuinely offended. "Why not?"

"I have no money," I answered fast, attempting to look firm. I would not fall prey to his acting or schemes.

"I don't recall asking for money, so what does that matter?" I hugged myself and turned away in irritation. He could be a decent actor when not being blatantly devious. There was a minute of quiet and I was growing more bitter as the seconds passed us. "Ah...I see." A heavy arm was suddenly slung over my shoulders. "Clever girl. You believe I was going to make you pay for this purchase somehow, yes? I'm afraid not. You may think of it as a wedding present if it pleases you." Still angry, I refused to respond and only turned my head further away. However, he quickly rectified this by taking my face and forcing me to him, looking strangely pleased. "You are right, I am being too generous. But I do not want money or any form of payment. However, if you would be so inclined to show your gratitude, I would very much enjoy playing Count and pretty Slave again."

'You will hold me and kiss me like I am your dearest Count'. My face burned. My fingers twitched. "No."

"I despise that word...and what a shame." He clucked his tongue but thankfully released me. "You stomped on my kindness. No matter, revenge is at hand." I blinked as I watched him begin to skim the bookshelves. My body was still hot and on edge. I felt greatly ashamed for following this madman around so. I knew I had little choice as running to the guard was foolish but it ate away at my conscience, nevertheless. Lachance finally stopped, looking pleased and pulled a little brown book off of the shelf. "Since you refused my goodness, you get an order. You shall read this aloud to me later." He returned to me and placed the book in my hands. I again glared at him before looking at the cover, greatly regretting my earlier refusal. "I am quite fond of bedtime stories. Been far too long since I had a good one. This looks highly amusing."

I only stared again, dumbfounded and outraged. I swallowed down my bitterness and tried to hand The Lust Argonian Maid back to the very demented Lucien Lachance. "I apologize for being ungrateful."

"Too late." He said with another smirk, fishing through his pockets for several septims. He made his way to the counter and I followed.

"Please, I-I shall pick a book." I pleaded, trying hard to change his mind. I was certain he would make me read the inevitably awful and embarrassing book. Deep down, I knew I should have swallowed my pride and tried my best to suffer through it, he may have even lost interest after my lack of reaction. However, I could not bring myself to willingly read anything lewd to the man who had violated me in the dead of night. He was repulsive, as he often strove to be.

He took it from me then and for the faintest moment, I felt a glimmer of hope. It quickly ended once he dropped the coins on the counter and placed the book in his pack. "Nope."

"I cannot read that," I whispered to him harshly as he lead the way out of the store. "Let me do something else. I will do something else, please."

"Do not offer me something that you have no intentions of following through," Lachance said while holding his arm out for me. I accepted it nervously. "And I believe I said that this was an order, so stop batting your pretty eyelashes. It may have worked on your Count but you will not be so lucky with me. I'm afraid I have grown immune to even the best of pleas over the years." I bowed my head, flustered and angry. "So much frustration over a little book. You do realize there are worse torments, yes?"

XXXX

Janus sat at his desk, carefully sorting through several sizeable stacks of parchment. He realized there was much to do and he currently found the work daunting. The Mages Guild was again seeking an audience with him. The Count was not yet ready to deal with Hannibal Traven's nonsense nor any of his lackeys. Those papers were again pushed aside. Vandorallen Trebatius was obscenely late on his taxes and was begging for another extension. The Count would consider it if only to stop the man's pitiful visits to his Castle.

Blessedly, the High Chancellor was quick to answer the Count's missive and was more than accommodating with his reply. Janus looked down at the new crisp parchment, both signed and stamped by the Chancellor himself. Ocato of Firsthold was a logical mer, greatly appeasing while still remaining firm. Being one of the very few who knew of his vampirism, the Count was pleased that he had never been treated as an inferior by the man. The Chancellor knew that the Count posed no threat to the great Empire they both so dearly loved. As such, business between the Imperial City and Skingrad always flowed smoothly. The trades were good, their prosperity mutual. Both were happy and it was very beneficial. So months ago when the Count had ordered documents for slavery, he was more than satisfied when they arrived with haste.

Those documents made Janus Hassildor very happy. The High Chancellor certainly fond it odd that a thief would want to be owned by the vampire Count of Skingrad but he never expressed any cares in the matter. The Count hardly asked the Empire for any favors. As such, the Chancellor was pleased to assist him. Skingrad was not well known for its mercy to any offender of the law, Janus wanting to spare a criminal's life was a welcoming surprise. Showing such mercy was nearly unheard of, especially among nobles. The papers were sent and the Count's business was again his own. Truthfully, the Chancellor cared not for the comforts of one slave. So long as the Count kept his private life private and all continued to flow smoothly, the Empire was pleased.

Janus never thought he would own a person, the idea had never before crossed his mind. He had no need to own people, he had the gold to hire as many hands as he desired. When Abigale Lynn first became his their arrangement made him feel filthy. The Count knew the laws of the Empire well and property happened to be a subject he excelled in. It was almost surreal watching a person become a literal possession. It was as though an invisible layer was shed and discarded, an actual change that could be seen if one looked hard enough. It was oddly satisfying and sad.

The Count set his quill aside and opened his desk. Rifling through the back of the drawer, Janus pulled out a little leather gauntlet. He often toyed with the glove, finding comfort in its feel. It was dirty, worn and small but it belonged to his Abigale Lynn before she belonged to him. It was a window to the harshness that she knew to be life. His poor love...he missed her terribly. He still had yet to feel her. She was so calm and serene. Janus wondered if he truly caused her such anxiety. It seemed simply being away from him had a medicinal effect on her.

Janus twisted the gauntlet and worked his fingers inside, retrieving a small square of folded parchment from within. Carefully, he set the glove down and opened up the document. It was but another thing that he found solace in, especially with his love's current absence. It was his papers of ownership. The Count kept them safe inside of the gauntlet in the very far back corner of his desk. He stared down at the signature of Abigale Lynn. Of course, she did not ever knowingly sign the document, but the signature was hers...

XXXX

The Count of Skingrad had returned from the Maids Quarters feeling angry, embarrassed and foolish. He had walked in on Abigale Lynn undressing. It was wonderful...but it made him impulsive and senseless. He had tried to kiss her. It was rash and absurd. Reckless. What on Nirn had he hoped to achieve? Did he really think she would let him touch her on that poor, rickety excuse of a bed? There were women who shared the space with her, he could not hold Abigale Lynn in there all night and talk about everything he loved about her person. No, he could not. What was he thinking?

Janus was livid with himself. It all went so poorly. He just wanted to touch her, she was so beautiful. Abigale Lynn needed to know how much she meant to him. He needed to confess all. The tension was getting ridiculous, he felt he would surely burst from it. The Count swallowed hard, beginning to pace around his room. He had to tell her his feelings and it needed to be done soon. Janus anxiously wondered how it would go. He knew he excited her, he knew she cared for him - he could feel it in the air around her. Yet she was very quick to stop him before anything started.

She had pried his hand from her face as he went to gently pull her close...and he had been so close. He could feel her warm breath on his lips. He was stunned once she stopped him, rendered motionless and confused. She had kissed his open palm instead and he found himself jealous of his own hand. It was absurd. He was truly bewildered. Their feelings were mutual, her polite denial was baffling. He was left to wonder why she had stopped him.

His pacing eventually brought him to his desk. He stopped and looked down at the hastily written papers of Abigale Lynn's promotion. He eyed her pretty handwriting. Her signature was very neat. Her name screamed to him from the parchment and he mindlessly picked up the paper. Tomorrow he would tell her of his feelings. The obligatory confession frightened hm. However, it had to be said, he was done with this game. She was rightfully afraid of him, he supposed, which he believed caused her reluctance. He would ease her mind somehow. She felt the same way about him as he did her, once their mutual affections were admitted he would show her how safe she was with him. He would do something to solidify her position. He would find a way to ease her worries.

The Count fretted greatly as there were multiple ways the conversation could go. He feared the possibility of rejection. Janus knew Abigale Lynn to be shy, she could easily be overwhelmed. But the Count also knew that Abigale Lynn was not cruel and he would endeavor to bring her comfort and win her heart.

Still...Janus needed to bring peace of mind to himself, as he was currently in a state of mild panic. Why did she pull away from him? It did not matter, she could reject him a thousand times but in the end, he would win. In the end, she would be his. He would make her see. It was simply a matter of time.

The Count quickly walked to the other side of his desk and pulled open a drawer. He then removed a very important document that he had asked for months ago. Janus had yet to even glance at the papers since. Now, it was crucial and so very important. The Count looked on at the unsigned slavery record. He had yet to bring this to Abigale Lynn's attention, as he had not seen a reason to. Both he and Abigale Lynn were well aware of her bondage, Janus saw no need to flaunt his ownership. Nevertheless, its presence in his room had calmed his very strongly possessive mind. He now wished to take it another step further.

The Count set down the rashly scrawled note of Abigale Lynn's promotion on his desk, then he carefully placed the slavery record over it. Without a moment's hesitation, he let his hand hover over both papers and called forth a spell. Alteration was a school of magic that the Count was no master in but luckily, he could still cast its charms decently. Alteration allowed the mage to change and manipulate many things in the physical world. Janus often found the particular form of magic rather useless and simply refined and honed his other talents. Presently, he was happy that he did not entirely forgo the class.

With the gentlest upward pull, the Count watched as the elegant signature of Abigale Lynn began to manifest on the record. The ink bled through the thick parchment steadily and cleanly, soon appearing as though it had been freshly jotted. The Count eyed his handy work before picking up the document. Seeing it pleased him. A very small part of him felt a touch wrong for forging her name but the guilt was very minuscule. She was his, regardless of the paper he held. Nevertheless, beholding the legality of it all was gratifying.

xxxx

It was late in the afternoon when Lucien Lachance declared that we were done for the day. I was unsure if I should be happy or worried over the decision. I did not know where we were to sleep or how much privacy I would be given. However, I was a bit relieved to finally retire. Although it was not yet dusk I was again chilly and in desperate need of a warm bed. I was certain that the assassin's antics were far from over but I tried to mentally prepare. If anything, I could take comfort in the amulet I wore.

Lachance whistled loudly as he walked us down the main road. I again played with the satchel as I wondered if the Count found my humming as obnoxious as I found the madman's awful tunes. "I do hope the Inn has coffee, they seem to on occasion. If not, I may have to drink a potion or two. I do so hate squandering my supplies. Far too early for bed, however." He grumbled while rubbing the back of his neck. Over the last few hours, I had noticed Lachance's enthusiasm dwindling. I was surprised that he could still be as energized as he was after being awake for so long. "How do you take yours? I assume you must have grown fond of it after staying awake all night for a nocturnal aristocrat."

It took me a moment to realize he was again asking me another question. I sighed. Answering Lachance all day grating. "How do I take my what?"

"Your coffee. You take it like your men, yes? Pale and cold and bitter?" He meant to tease me but I was rendered clueless. I looked at him in confusion, examining the deep bags under his eyes as I did so. He was growing tired. With any luck, he would leave me be to sleep. Hoping to wear him out faster I decided to feign interest to his words. In any case, ignoring him proved impossible.

"What is coffee?"

I was surprised when Lachance stopped for a moment to fix me with a look. "You are telling me that you do not know what coffee is? Little Countess, that is absurd!" He looked bewildered and mildly intrigued. I was thankful when we continued to move. "Have you no knowledge about your region? Coffee beans are one of Skingrad's famous exports. Not as widely known as its wine, cheeses, and tomatoes of course, but still a vital trade good. The Imperial City also happens to be one of your biggest buyers of the beans." He laughed and draped an arm over my shoulder. "We must school you on your home, my dear lady. Your Count may not see value in you aside from your pretty face, bust, bottom, and blood but I certainly do. We'll make a proper Little Countess out of you yet."

Unable to stop myself, I glared at Lachance. I was no Countess. Skingrad still had a Countess. His title for me was rude and infuriating. I wanted to tell him to stop but I would not dare to. He could make my life awful if he wanted, I should have been happy that he was behaving as tame as he was. With great effort, I bit my lip and said nothing.

Eventually, we stood before what I thought was a tavern, the sign standing by the door was the only thing that proved otherwise. "The Merchants Inn. Now, I could have purchased rooms for us at the Tiber Septim Hotel but I thought the luxury of it all would make you homesick...Being that you have already gotten sick within the first few hours of our venture, I thought it foolish. Upper middle class for us tonight, beloved." Lachance held his arm out for me to take. I did so quickly and without complaint. Although I loathed holding the assassin, I much preferred his arm rather than his hand on my waist or hip. "Oh, and do not forget, we are betrothed. Act the part and do not flinch from me so." The madman pulled me closer, I looked away which caused him to sigh. "That won't do. Would you like some motivation? We are very happy. I am a merchant from Leyawiin. You and I are traveling south to my home where we shall be wed." Lachance paused and rubbed his chin in thought. "You are also a full-blooded Breton from Highrock. Your Cyrodiilic is broken and lacking - you do not need to speak to anyone that way...you are welcome."

I was very grateful for that, the lie was generous. I had often hid behind Lachance all day when someone so much as looked at me. He noticed, no doubt. I was surprised that he did not exploit my hesitance as seemed his custom. "Thank you," I said quietly, feeling less tense but very awkward. Knowing that I did not need to speak to anyone brought me great comfort but I could not help but question his motives. Lachance was not compassionate...

"Your discomfort to socializing is obvious. I must be good to you on some occasions. After all, you are to be my blushing bride soon." Although he spoke with mirth, I easily noted the drop in the volume of his voice. I did not like it. "Why don't you blush for me now?" I was not surprised but still, I frowned. This was the first genuinely nice thing he had done for me and he could not miss the opportunity to utilize the gesture. Lucien Lachance naturally had to follow his sympathy with something crude and unnecessary, it was his way.

"I cannot blush on demand," I answered stiffly as I released him, trying to distance myself the smallest bit.

"I understand that. Hmm, how will we ever hope to convince the masses that you are to be my bride if you do not look the least bit happy..." I wanted to tell him that blushing had nothing to do with happiness but I knew better than to bother. Lachance was again goading me but this time it felt strange. Perhaps it was the deep bags under his eyes but his stare felt more devious than usual, which was a feat to achieve. "Ah, I have been struck with the most wonderful resolution. Come now, Abigale. May I see your hand?"

It was my turn to stare. Whatever nonsense he was surely planning, I wanted no part. However, I knew I had no freedoms. I would not knowingly deny him and risk breaking whatever oath he was promised to. He could not hurt me, that was what truly mattered. All else was simply embarrassing but small on a grander scale. "Is that a command?"

He turned to face me fully, another smile plastered on his face. Lucien Lachance grinned far too much and I did not like it. I did not like him. "It will be if you say no. Your willingness is so much more fun. Play along?" I reluctantly held out my hand to Lachance, which pleased him. He took it gladly and bent down to it. Again I glared at him. His games were absurd. He placed his warm lips against the back of my hand and looked up at me. He was watching for a reaction but I gave him none. I was not swayed, embarrassed or remotely moved. The only thing mildly curious was the scratch of his facial hair. I continued to stare at him with my lips pursed and waited for him to finish his foolishness. "No emotion?..." Lachance hummed in thought at my lack of response. His black eyes shifted from my face to my knuckles as he straightened, refusing to let me go. I was then shocked as he quickly twisted my hand and brought it back to his mouth, nipping my exposed wrist.

I shrieked and pulled away. The madman's grin was wide and wicked. "W-what did you?! Why?!" I stammered, holding my wrist to my chest. I was outraged and mystified. It did not hurt but the act was so random and strange. I stared at the madman in a mix of horror and confusion.

"I wanted a reaction. I simply chose to woo you in the manner in which you are accustom to." My bewilderment turned into anger and I felt my face flush with rage. He was foul and crass and repulsive. I could not stand him. "Well, well...you like being bitten. It certainly explains much. I'll make a note of that for later." Lachance inclined his head, eyes searching my face. "And look, there is my blush. We can go inside now, beloved."

"Y-you swore and oath not to harm me. You broke it, you -"

"I broke nothing. I see no blood, no permanent mark, no lasting damage...if I wanted to harm you, I would be more creative." Lachance again held out his arm to me. "But I have told you countless times that I have no intentions of harming you, oath or no. Unless you want me to, of course." I could only clench my jaw and walk back to him. My face continued to burn. I wanted to say something cruel to him - anything cruel but I could not. Again I was left with no alternative. My voice trembled with emotion, my stunted rage nearly made me tremble.

"I do not like being bitten." I finally forced, unable to say anything else.

"Your reaction and relationships prove otherwise, my dear." The assassin said far too lightly. "We all have something we like, no need to be ashamed. It certainly explains a lot about your life choices." He paused, brow quirked and smile still present. "I wonder what else you enjoy." Thankfully, he did not search for a response and instead lead us into the Inn. He walked us to the counter and began a polite conversation with the proprietor. It was disturbing how easily engaged he made people. No one but I knew he was a devious killer and I was to be silent. It was alarming how quickly people fell to his appeal. He was handsome, his smile was charming and his false demeanor was interesting and enticing. I, unfortunately, was given the great pleasure of knowing Lucien Lachance's true nature. A part of me envied the townspeople because of this.

In an effort to ignore the assassin I glanced around the room. The building was warm and busy. The smell of food was heavy in the air. Despite Lachance dampening the Inn's image, I found I quite liked the furnishings. All looked inviting. It was a little worn but I thought it as a home should be. It felt lived in yet cared for. It was nice.

When his conversation with the Inn owner ended he startled me greatly by again kissing my hand. I stopped from flinching and allowed myself to be pulled to him. I had not been listening to their discussion, as I was too lost in my own mind while they spoke. However, the mischievous grin on Lachance's face proved to me that I should have been more vigilant.

A key was slid across the counter to us and Lachance took it quickly. He was grinning ear to ear as he led us to a stairwell. "Your beauty is good for my gold. I have never had such wonderful prices from the male vendors of the Imperial City. I think I've spent half of what I expected." We reached the landing and I was more than happy to pull away from him. No longer being watched, I saw no reason to cling to the madman. He smirked and beckoned me to follow him further down the hall. "Even the Innkeeper liked you. The man gave us a wonderful deal on the room and a promise to make fresh coffee after I told him you fancied it. Ah, bliss. I'll buy you a good dinner in thanks." We stopped before a door and he started up his dreadful whistling.

The lock clicked and Lachance stepped away while holding the door open and motioning for me to enter. I strode passed him quickly, not wanting to have my back to him while there were no witnesses. The room was a decent size but dark. I could only see what the light from the hall illuminated. To my immediate left, there was a little round table and two chairs, a small vase of yellow flowers sat in its middle. The stone floor was mostly carpeted by thin but pretty rugs. I could make out a desk in the back of the room and the many candles we were to utilize were perched upon it. All was nice, no doubt charming when illuminated. However, I was soon alerted to the one bed in the chamber. It was large enough for two people but it was the only bed...

I quickly turned, watching as Lachance strode in looking smug. "Where do I sleep?" I asked him fast, growing apprehensive. He had stopped his dreadful whistling and began to light the many candles on the back desk.

"You sleep here." He answered calmly, still seemingly busy. I could almost sense his amusement.

I swallowed hard. My nervousness finally overpowering my anger. I tried to appear calm, knowing he seemed to feed off of my fears. Carefully, I set down the satchel I had been holding, noticing with dread that Lachance had already deposited his in the corner by the door. I wrung my hands. "W-where do you sleep?"

"I sleep here, right beside you. Preferably, closest to the door." He said nonchalantly, strategically placing candles around the room. I made a small exasperated sound that I could not stifle. My stomach became uneasy. I would not sleep in the same room as Lucien Lachance. It was dangerous and foolish and who knew what he would do. I put nothing passed him. "Ah, the great tension returns. Your fear is palpable, my dear. Your thoughts harm you more than I ever could...debatable, actually. Still, very unhealthy to let your mind wrack your body so."

With Lachance's back to me, I inched closer to the door. "I cannot sleep in here with you." I tried to sound calm but my heart felt as though it was trying to escape my breast. All was screaming for me to leave.

"Cannot or will not?" The madman asked me coolly, looking around approvingly at the now lightened space.

"Will not," I told him harshly. Did he truly think I would agree to this arrangement without complaint? If so he was astoundingly delicious. I found myself gripping the golden amulet tightly. "I have obeyed you and I will continue to do so...b-but I cannot share your bed. It is wrong in many ways. Please do not make me. I know I have no power over your word so I implore you to reconsider."

The assassin folded his arms across his chest, feigning disappointment. "My dear lady, you hurt me so. I have tried so very hard to initiate conversation with you all day and you repeatedly destroyed my attempts with curt replies and clipped tones. Only when presented with something you greatly dislike do you broaden your severely lacking vocabulary. If I granted your request I would only be rewarding bad behavior." He then walked over to me, steps slow and deliberate. I looked away from him and pressed my back to the stone wall behind me. I eyed the door which he quickly noticed. Lachance reached out and swung it closed, his attention never leaving me. "As such, your request is denied. Perhaps this discomfort will entice you to be more vocal."

Feeling imprisoned and desperate, I tore my eyes from the door to again stare at the madman. "I will say whatever you want if you let me sleep away from you."

"Really? An intriguing proposal..." Lachance stared me down, his smile slowly resurfacing. He reached up to my throat and carefully began to pry my fingers from the amulet I clutched. I swallowed hard at being forced to release it. He then held the jewel and toyed with its chain, eyes boring into mine. "Then I want you to ask me to take this off of you." I did not move. The silent threat and implication made me burn and regret speaking at all. Lucien Lachance said nothing as he awaited my response.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath as I tried to calm myself. "I-I won't say that."

The madman sighed loudly. "Fine. Again, do not make a promise that you have no intentions of carrying through." He let go and stepped away, not looking the least bit offended. "I suppose you are stuck in bed with me then - make that a command, as you respond so wonderfully to those. But do not worry, you have my word that I shall not forget my manners." The grin he wore said otherwise. I chewed my lip and held myself, watching as the assassin began to fuss about the room. "Your bath will be ready soon so perhaps it's best that we will behave ourselves. Again, I'll mind my manners and leave you to do that, so long as you swear not to drown yourself in the bathwater."

I only nodded, unsure of how to respond. My mind spun as I looked at the bed, feeling ill. All the self-pity I had harbored inside of Castle Skingrad was dearly missed. I would take it back easily to be away from Lucien Lachance. I missed all and wanted to go home. I longed for the familiarity of chilly corridors and red furnishings. I needed the glow of countless candles and the Count's roaring fireplace. I missed sweet wine and overly rich foods. I wanted back the way I was sp often sought after and needed and the strange drive I always had to do my best. But above all, I missed the Count. I longed for him and it had only been a day. Everything about him I yearned for: his fanged smile, his cold touch, the constant and comfortable control he exuded, how wonderful he could make me feel with just a look...I even missed his temper and unpredictable moods. But I needed to go away from him...

Sadly, I had realized that I knew nothing about the man I cared for. At every turn, I was surprised with something new and awful. The Count lost his temper over my denial of his feelings as a man, so he attacked me as a vampire. I had tried to forgive him and instead ended up in his bed - I did deeply regret that. The act was impulsive and had been wonderful at the time. It took one nonplatonic caress from the Count to make me realize how badly I wanted him to touch me, and touch me he did. It was bliss, a mix of pleasure and pain, much like the Count himself. Unfortunately, it was very wrong of us to do. The Count was married, his wife alive. He never thought to tell me before lying with me. He did not care how I would feel about such a thing.

All was so wrong so I tried to distance myself from him. The result was him harassing me for days. He wanted to 'be with me' but it was wrong. I stood by what I believed in and he came after me again. His behavior in the Green Room was more shocking and confusing to me then the night he drained me. It was as though a mental block had formed in my mind and refused to register his actions. Part of me so missed him that I had found small pleasure in his roaming hands. That had greatly confused my already addled mind. But he was violent and demanding and I had never felt so small and awful. His following cruelty was frightening and painful. He hated my rejection. I believed the Count's hate was stronger than any emotion he harbored, even stronger than his compassion - compassion that I dearly missed.

I had to leave him and he let me go. This was my wish while he collected himself. I needed time and so did he...but I did not know the Count I was to return to, nor did I know the Count I cared for at all. He did things I would have never imagined him capable of. I did not doubt his love for me but I did not doubt his desires to harm me when 'provoked' either. At times he was a stranger. I did not know him. Did he know me?

I was suddenly alerted to Lachance's presence. He stood by the door, snapping his fingers at me while looking mildly intrigued. "Ah, I see I have your rapt attention. Splendid. You were gone again, my dear. I do so hate being ignored." Cautiously, I stepped from the wall. I wondered how long I was standing there and if other words were said. "Your bath is here. If you can refrain from moping for a moment you would have seen this easily. This isn't Skingrad, you know. There are no magical tubs. Are you partial to frigid water?"

Blinking in confusion, I looked to the corner of the room that he was gesturing to. Indeed, there was a small tub filled with steaming water. I felt ashamed and shocked knowing that I had been so lost in thought that I missed the tub and water being brought into the room...

I mumbled an apology but Lachance held a hand up to silence me. "Your obvious lack of attention is either due to your capture bonding sickness or my perverseness. Either way, I'll gift you an hour. Be dressed when I return or dine naked. Your choice." The assassin left the room, muttering about needing a drink and locked me in. No sooner had he gone did I push a chair in front of the door as a small measure against him. I was quick to undress then and clambered into the awkward little tub.

XXXX

He could feel the warmth of the early morning sun but the heat was not painful. He was well fed and the shade from their little porch provided sufficient protection. Their house on the lake had been a wonderful idea. It was the perfect location. The land was lush and bountiful, the surrounding area quiet and safe. A Bull Netch floated off in the distance but he paid the beast little mind. No, he was far too taken by the vision before him, which was extraordinarily lovely.

Abigale Lynn had her skirt hiked over her knees, the fabric of her dress was held loosely in one hand, a woven basket balanced in the other. Her back was to him as she stood in the water, kicking around the shallows. His grin broadened as she finally turned and noticed his presence, her very round belly making her wobble slightly as she did so. She smiled too and gave him a little wave before turning her gaze to the sky. "The sun is warm today, love. You should go back to bed." She called to him, carefully making her way to the shoreline.

"The view of you is well worth the burns." He answered, watching in amusement as she shot him a reproachful look. "And I missed your warmth. What are you doing up so early, hmm? You need your rest."

She made her way out of the water slowly, glaring off at the distance. "They give me no rest. We are looking for shells."

Vicente quirked his brow at this. They? We? He followed Abigale Lynn's gaze and was startled when another presence quickly made itself known. Had Vicente not been a vampire, he would have paled. A little boy with inky-black hair ran quickly passed Vicente to Abigale Lynn, his arms full of colorful shells. His simple existence rendered Vicente speechless.

The child dropped the armful of shells in the basket Abigale Lynn carried, quickly receiving praise for the wide variety of shapes and sizes. Vicente was still stunned as he stared at the pale and lanky boy. The child was young, perhaps four years of age. Yet he was tall with rather large hands. His little face was beautiful with full pink cheeks, looking like a literal cherub with black lashes and unruly dark hair. It was a combination that was most revolting. Vicente felt his fangs unleash and was greatly ashamed by it. He looked away, ignoring the slowly darkening sky.

"Will you not see me off, love?" Vicente looked up to Abigale Lynn who was suddenly accompanied by a perpetually angry Janus Hassildor. Her expression was pained as she watched him. Vicente only stood, suddenly zapped of his energy and outraged.

The Count eyed him and placed a hand over his woman's belly. "She is mine forever, Vicente. Think of her again and I shall rip you open and ravish her before your corpse." Vicente remained stonefaced, a magical force stopping him from movement and speech. "But here, I'll gift you a memento." Vicente was further startled when the Count gave the child before him a nudge with his boot. "We will make more. This one smells lovely like his mother. Enjoy." Then in a haze of blue smoke, Janus and Abigale Lynn had vanished.

The spell had dropped, his strength returning to him in a crushing wave alongside his sorrow. He realized that he could do nothing as he stared up at the pitch-black sky. Vicente turned to go inside his lonely cabin when he felt eyes on his back.

The child stood close, looking up at him with a curious gaze, holding a great stick in his hands. Vicente glared back, fangs still at the ready in his mouth, but the child did not seem the least bit frightened of the vampire. No, the boy looked smug and sat in front of the shack's door, blocking the entrance. Vicente felt livid as he eyed the tiny spitting image of Janus. "Your father does not want you and nor do I. Leave me now or perish. I will not house Janus' bastard."

Slowly, the boy bowed his head and began to drag the large branch through the dirt as he sat. Vicente thought he had effectively hurt the child and expected to hear weeping. What he received, however, was nothing short of bone-chilling. The boy began to laugh, chuckle but the sound was not only that of a little boy, it had a dark echo - something powerful and sinister - a mix of boy, man, and beast. "Your threats are empty. Your strength is squandered. Hunter for over three centuries who shows his belly to a much younger vampire...stupidity or weakness?"

Vicente took a step back. This was no child. "Who are you? What is your name?"

"You crave her so, you covet what is his. What stops you from taking her?" The child continued to draw in the dirt, making little pictures around a large M. His voice was low, corrupt and deliberate. "The Count is strong and his desires are dark. He is made superior by his ownership. Yet, you are older. It would be interesting and bloody. Entertaining..." The little boy scoffed, his hand stilled. "You are a willful beast, Valtieri. The Brotherhood has fed you misguided notions of loyalty. You are loyal to no one. You are a hunter of the night. Have it all. You know you want to."

"What I want is your name," Vicente said stoically, flinching slightly as the child snapped the large stick in two, as though it was a twig.

"A name? I have many. A title is better." The boy picked up a shell and began to sharpen his branch. "I am father to you, vampire. Address me as such."

Vicente froze, finally made aware of his dream and the stake being crafted before him. "Father of Vampires." He said with caution, wanting to take out his sword but was again incapable. He settled for a glare, ready and indifferent to his nightmare. "What is it that you want?"

"The same as you." The boy suddenly said, the dark echoes gone, his voice now that of a little child. He looked up to Vicente with beautiful green eyes, standing slowly. A grin formed on his serene face, his mouth full of sharp and horrible fangs. Vicente was still paralyzed by magical means. The boy lunged at him, stake held high and at the ready. The child's mouth did not move but he spoke to Vicente so clearly. "I want my mother."

XXXX

Vicente Valtieri woke with a start, quickly brandishing his longsword at the darkness of the empty cave. His eyes glowed as he searched the blackness. There was no heart beating, no one breathing, and no one watching. Still, he carefully combed the very cramped space, not daring any chance. A small rock formation almost started his long dead heart as it was similar in size to the damnable dream child.

After feeling sufficiently safe and ridiculous, he sheathed his sword. Vicente was no stranger to nightmares but he could not remember ever having such a personal one. He had worse, yes. More often than not, he would dream of his life before vampirism and had to relive all crumbling around him. This dream was different, designed to be cruel and provoking. Vicente knew it all was no doubt from his current mental duress. He did feel greatly foul for wanting his friend's lover and divided over how to handle the situation.

Vicente passed a weary hand down his face and sighed. He decided to get an early start and dragged his pack closer, picking out his leather armor. As he changed, his mind continued to roam. Although his dream had been shamefully disturbing, he would gladly relive it. Being back on the island of Vvardenfell with Abigale Lynn was something he had never thought of. He wondered if she would like the exotic lands...then he felt greatly odd for wondering such a thing.

xxxx

I sat at the table in the room, fully washed and freshly dressed. I knew I was supposed to be in bedclothes but I could not bring myself to wear something so simple. In an attempt to bring myself any comfort, I again layered clothing. I wore my usual high stockings, pants over them, a long white undershirt with a lace-up green dress over that. Since Lachance had robbed me of my hair ribbon and had yet to return it, I still had to keep my hair down. Even though damp, I did not like it. He enjoyed my hair far too much.

The assassin was prompt and returned in an hour as promised. I had found no solace while he had gone. I was simply newly confined, as seemed my norm. Still, I felt defeated at his jovial knock. I often thought of the Count as a boy. It took only a day with Lucien Lachance to prove otherwise. I stood and removed my poor barricade before he unlocked the door and entered. I was surprised to see several people with him. I kept my mouth closed and sat back down in the chair I had previously occupied.

The people were apparently servants. They made quick work of draining the tub and laying out a large meal. Lachance was equally quick to politely shoo them out. No sooner had they gone did I begin to mindlessly toy with my hair. "A nice dinner, as promised. I am a man of my word." He said while pulling the chair beside me out for himself. "You are to eat until you are no longer hungry...make that an order. If I bring you to Cheydinhal five pounds lighter and malnourished, Vicente will be greatly displeased." I scoffed at that and began to mindlessly pick at the food before me. "Little Countess, do not be cross with him. He took great measures to ensure your safety. He cares for you deeply. Can he be blamed?"

I did not comment and tried hard to focus on my plate. Lachance continued to watch me, to my great dissatisfaction. It was hard to eat while he stared. I placed my fork down irritably. I needed him to stop watching me, I could not stand his neverending curiosity. "You hardly ate anything." The madman remarked. "I believe I ordered you to sate your hunger?"

I unthinkingly ran my fingers down the sides of the round ceramic dish. The patterns were pretty, I tried to concentrate on them. "I am. I just need a moment."

"Why?" The assassin asked, sounding intrigued. I chanced a look at him and regretted it. He sat with an elbow propped on the table, chin in his hand, eyes darting across my ever feature, from bust to face and back down again. I was further outraged by his unabashed stare, especially due to its centering on what little cleavage peeked through my many layers. He was so blatantly obvious and brazen that one would think I had asked him to analyze me.

I crossed my arms and sat back further in my chair. His eyes met mine, knowing he had been caught caused him to grin. I looked away, tapping my foot from annoyance. "You make me uncomfortable. Must you watch me so?"

"Indeed, I must. You are so very pretty, it would be rude not to stare." He gave a little sigh, breaking a loaf of thickly crusted bread, which he then eyed meaningfully. "You also refuse any polite interaction and do not talk unless provoked, regardless of circumstance. I must amuse myself somehow, Little Countess." He tossed me the larger half of the loaf and focused his attention back on his food. It was my turn to sigh. I poked at the bread, thankful that he was not watching me for a moment, knowing that my peace from him would not last. I wondered then if his current questioning and staring stemmed from boredom. I supposed it could be so but I believed him to simply not care for personal boundaries. Regardless, I was willing to do almost anything to stop the assassins endless watching.

"...If I spoke to you would you stop?"

Author's Notes: Still following the plotline I made when I was like 13...which is unsettling but fun! XD Did not get to proofread this one. I'll come back and fix the errors 8D R+R if it pleases ya!