Author's Notes: You are all the best! Thanks a million for all the love this story still gets. I LOVE the LOVE. I tried so hard to get this one up quick for ya. Again, another chapter I had way too much fun with XD There's a lot of interaction in this update (which I loved writing). But again, I did not get to proofread. I'm sorry! I was only able to write here or there all week...okay, that's how I do every dang chapter but this one was worse. I did not even get to reread it! I JUST finished and am posting it now! XD So if anything seems 'skippy' I'm sorry! I wasn't able to check and see if all flowed smoothly. I'll go back and edit later. 8D

Love or Blood

Chapter Fifty-one: Strange Eve

xxxx

I chewed my lip as Lachance looked at me, his brows slowly rising. "Would I stop staring if you spoke...? I suppose I could. I am interested enough in your strangeness to try. But what would you ever condescend to speak to me about?" His sipped from a dark mug and watched me. I too questioned my offer. Truthfully, I did not want to talk to the madman at all. However, I found his unnecessary comments and little jabs more forgiving than his constant stare. I was willing to give a conversation a try if it stopped him even slightly.

With a sigh, I glanced around the room. I could have talked mindlessly about our lodgings but I felt that would take a darker turn and refocus on our terrible sleeping arrangements. I also believed that he would quickly halt any idle chatter. Rambling on about the trivial seemed pointless. Lucien Lachance, despite 'wanting' conversation, struck me as a man who hated small-talk. The assassin wanted something that had his attention or interest. Unfortunately, I knew nothing of his wants or likes, aside from his profession and perverse attention to myself. I nervously twiddled my fingers. "You say I refuse any polite interaction from you and it is true. I-I do not know how you expect me to be so accepting. H-how can you demand me to act civil towards you after what you did?"

Lachance swirled the mug he held, looking pleased by my words. "I do not recall demanding such a thing, I simply thought you were the forgiving sort." The madman grinned at my hardened stare. "Kissing you and giving your behind a good swat seems like an easily forgivable act. Especially now when compared to what you are regularly put through by your vampire. My actions towards you are saintly in comparison." He took another swig from his cup. I inwardly cringed. "Hassildor is severe and spoiled and acts thusly. He does not realize that rejection is a part of life. You say no, he loses his mind, yes? Predictable of someone who has never truly wanted for anything...until you came along. Oh, the irony."

I stiffened, the conversation had turned personal far more quickly than I had anticipated. I was unsure how to continue. "He has wanted for much," I said lamely, thinking of the dreaded chamber I had been shown and the sorrow linked to it. The Count had wanted much for a very long time...Thinking of his pain made me defensive. I glared at Lachance. "A-and I would run back to him willingly right now if I could, regardless of his severity, just to be away from you. The Count is a good Master to me, despite what you may think or have heard."

He quirked his brow, his face disbelieving and amused, to my dismay. "That is your capture bonding illness again, I think. You hate me for giving you a fright and a kiss and yet you love him. Let us look at this from a logical standpoint:" Lachance paused and began to count on his fingers, enjoying the topic far too much. "The Count has kept you a prisoner, drained you to the brink of death, tossed you in his marital bed and has considered harming you on many occasions...almost followed through several times. I am certain he has done more than all of that to you and I simply do not know of it. Still, you love him...You are either mad or very badly damaged goods." He laughed and shook his head at me. "But odd and mad as you may be, I like you still. You are mysterious, lovely and fun to tease. You are curious to watch. You squirm over nothing and embrace actual harm, despite your supposed repulsion to it."

Again I looked away, frowning deeply at the table. "I do not like harm. I do not like pain. Just because I tolerate them as is my duty does not mean that I enjoy them in the slightest." I did not want or need to hear about what I had been through. Just watching the madman casually list my sorrows was disheartening and insulting. Lachance was quick to point out all the badness but there was more to the Count than that. I did not know him well...I did not know of his life or desires at all, but I knew of his person. He was not so horrible. There was good in him and I had known it, I missed it terribly.

"That may be true. I simply think that you unknowingly respond positively to abuse." He watched me carefully, examining my face before looking away. "But this topic upsets you. Perhaps we should not yet speak of such personal things. I'm in no mood for tears."

"You made it personal," I muttered, thankful that he decided not to torture me more about the Count than he already had.

Lachance smiled, staring up innocently at the ceiling. "A habit of mine, I'm afraid."

I scoffed but was pleased that he was not watching me. Thus far, he had kept his promise and did not shamelessly stare. I decided to endeavor to continue talking if only to keep him to his word. I took another bite of my now chilled food as I tried to think of more to say. "The night that we met..." I began uneasily, watching as Lachance grinned and poorly attempted to hide it behind his mug as he took another sip. "You presumed that I was a Dibellan. What...what made you think that?"

"It is so very obvious, I could easily tell." The madman said fast before I hardly finished my sentence. "You are not the first Dibellan I have come across. In my youth, I traveled to Skyrim on business. I did so love it there, I enjoy the cold immeasurably. Moreover, there is nothing quite like the combination of red on white or how it melts the snow..." He smiled at his no doubt disturbing recollections. I looked away uncomfortably. "But I digress. While there, I ventured to the city of Markarth. Interesting place. Trek it with a cautious step or fall to your death. But at one of its many peaks, centered in the middle of town, there happens to be a temple dedicated to the Goddess Dibella and her priestesses." The assassin nearly beamed at the memory. "I was young, younger than you are now, and curious. Naturally, I snuck into the temple to get a glimpse of the women. In my defense, I could not pass up such an opportunity. Priestesses to Dibella are famed for their loveliness and I was not disappointed. Unfortunately, I was unwelcomed."

I found myself nervous but very interested. I stared quietly at Lachance as he spoke. "They did not know what to do with me. It was a delightful toss between gouging out my eyes or handing me over to the guards. I was not very excited about either option. Thankfully, they decided to consult their leader. She was a Sybil of Dibella and the most beautiful Redguard I have ever seen. After much back and forth between her and myself, she showed me mercy." Lachance gave a happy little sigh. "But that was how I knew of you. There is an energy about you that is identical to hers. Yours is slightly different, it is a poisonous beauty rooted deeply within you. You capture attention and your touch makes blood boil in the best of ways. I kissed the hand of that Sybil in Skyrim and felt a strange spark...when I kissed you in that alleyway, I thought I would surely burst into flames. The touch of a Sybil can unhinge the mind, or so I've gathered."

Not knowing what to say or how to react, I stayed quiet. There was indeed a Sybil and a temple in Skyrim. It was frightening to know that I was almost sent there. I did not understand. How did one become a Sybil and what supposedly marked me for it? The only reason why I remotely believed myself to be one was because of the words of Molag Bal. For what purpose would the Daedra lie to me? Why would so many holy people falsely call me a Blessed One?

What little I did retain from the many devotees of Anvil's chapel was that there was only one Sybil at a time. There was never two...perhaps Lucien Lachance was wrong. He was mad, after all. There were many questions in my mind, things that the assassin could not possibly answer. Tentatively, I pushed the ceramic plate before me away, my hunger had again vanished. Feeling unsure of myself and his story, I mindlessly played with the front lacing of my dress, saying the first thing that came to my mind. "I-it was very wrong of you to make me kiss you."

Lachance chuckled. "You sound unsure of yourself. And the wrong things in life are usually the best, my dear lady. You cannot bring me to regret something so wonderful. I had not been so taken by a kiss since my boyhood. You drove me mad in moments. I was ready to worship you in the most carnal of ways..." I swallowed hard and fidgeted in my seat. This was but another thing I certainly did not want to hear. "Does my flattery make you uncomfortable? A thousand of my most sincere apologies. Let us just say thinking of you kept me warm on many a night." I did not comment. I glared off at nothing as I debated on what was more tolerable, Lachance's words or stares. Thankfully, I did not have to ponder long as another knock slowly sounded from the door. The assassin stood mutely and invited in the same servants as before. They came bearing buckets of steamy water and began to refill the bath.

Once they had gone and their footsteps had faded down the hall, I looked pointedly at the tub. It was his turn to bathe. I was grateful to be away from him again, I looked forward to the privacy. "Shall I wait in the hall or downstairs?" Lachance shook his head and kicked off his boots. I pouted and watched him carefully. "Where would you like me to go while you bathe?"

"Nowhere." He said impassively, unfastening the many belts down his tunic, only looking up as he shrugged the garment off. I found myself thankful for the black shirt he wore beneath it. "I am not permitted to leave you alone in public. You are to be accompanied by a Dark Brother or Dark Sister for the entirety of our journey. You should be pleased that I granted you privacy to wash. Regardless, you will not be left with the peoples of the Imperial City or any town we travel to hereafter." I was rendered speechless. However, my stunned state quickly turned into mortification as he reached up and grabbed the fabric on the back of his undertunic, preparing to pull it over his head.

"S-stop! Stop!" I shrieked, putting my hands up to block him from my vision. I should not have been surprised by his behavior but I was. Men seemed to be so carefree with their nakedness. I changed before women but never with the opposite sex nearby. The Count was the only man I had ever seen fully nude. If I could, I wanted to keep it that way. Although, after I had shared his bed, he too seemed completely at ease with his nudity around me. I hid under blankets and robes, ever shy while bare and beneath him. Men did not harbor this sentiment, it seemed. Regardless, Lucien Lachance was the last person on Nirn I wanted to see nude. "I do not want to see you naked! Can I not go?!"

"An oath is and oath. Lest you want me to break it? I'm afraid all bets are off then, my dear." I bowed my head and scowled while shielding my eyes with one hand. I listened as clothing hit the floor, my skin crawling with each soft rustle of fabric. I loathed him and his actions were disgusting. "You need not be so bashful. I won't tell a soul if you look." His voice was laden with amusement, I could hear his permanent evil smile.

"How do you find this funny?" I snapped, feeling my face flush. This man vile. He knew I was afraid of him, he knew I found his entire being repulsive, yet he saw fit to parade himself around under my nose. Lachance thought he was a prize and thusly made a spectacle of himself. He found my revulsion to his body and 'charm' entertaining. I knew he cared not for my comforts but I was still disturbed by his actions. How he could be so comfortable using his own body to irk me was was astounding. He was dedicated to being offensive. "This is wrong of you to do. Your behavior is appalling. I-I...you are wicked!"

"That I will not deny. However, you are overreacting. I am merely taking a bath, which is so very innocent. You are not being forced to participate or spectate. Look away if you feel so inclined. Or watch, or join, whichever you like." I bristled, shaking my head while still shielding my eyes. "There is truly no need for you to be so morally outraged. Nudity is natural." I hunched further down, his closeness was unsettling.

"Being forced to be around someone naked is anything but natural." I managed to murmur into the table, praying he would soon finish. Lachance was taking his time to disrobe, deliberately irritating me.

"Clothes are an illusion." He stated far too proudly. "I shall tell you a great secret known only to the very few Grandmasters of life, as most commoners cannot handle its truth...people are naked under their clothes. Take that in for a moment. The cloth you wear is not a part of you, it is but a little shield from Nirn's harsh elements." He strode passed me and patted my head. The touch made my jump and shudder as if I had just swatted a many-legged insect off of myself. "So if you wish to join me in our very natural state, I would keep it an eternal secret. We could be part of the few who celebrate this truth together. It could be our private custom. You will find it very freeing, it may loosen you a bit." He snorted and walked further behind me. "Sithis knows you need that. Perhaps we will find common ground in our nakedness. We could grow close."

"Have you no shame? Are you truly so delusional?" I finally snapped, no longer able to sit quietly by while the madman blatantly harassed and insulted me. "I have no interest in you! None! Please, leave me be."

"Ah, there is that fire again. You are very feisty deep down. I like it." I buried my face in my hands, already regretting my outburst. I was ashamed at how easily the assassin could get under my skin but he would not stop. "And my dear lady, I am an optimist. When others hear 'no' I hear 'maybe'. Therefore, it is entirely likely that you will have an interest in me if you do not have one already. It also means it is highly likely that you will get naked for me." Apparently pleased with himself, the madman again picked up his dreadful whistling. He was insufferable. Although I could not see him as he walked around the room, most likely as bare as a newborn, I knew he was intentionally agitating me again. Lucien Lachance was exhausting and very insane. I did not have the patience for him.

I took a deep breath and sought composure, trying not to give him the reaction he wanted. The man drove me wild and he enjoyed it immensely. "You live in a fantasy. I will not be taking off any of my clothing whilst in your company."

His whistling slowed and stopped. "Do I hear a challenge?" I sat up straight on impulse, grateful for the wall I was facing and his position behind me. The madman would take my statement as a challenge. The contemplative sound he made chilled me. "You do look more like you are ready for an outing rather than bed. I may not be able to command you to get nude...but for your comfort and wellbeing, I think you should shed a layer or two." I swallowed hard and chewed my lip, listening intently as Lachance settled into the tub, sighing loudly. "Let us make it a command, hmm? Take off the dress and pants."

"Y-you cannot make me."

"Oh, but I can. You are wasting clean clothes by sleeping in layers. That is cutting into our supplies." He chuckled darkly. I was mortified by how easily the order was given and rationalized. "See? An honest command. You can say no... However, you would experience firsthand how fast I can undress you entirely, should you want to refuse. So two articles or all, beloved?" I pushed the chair out from beneath me and stood, glaring at the wall as I began unlacing the front of my overdress, hands trembling with anger as I did so. I was torn between weeping and violence but I did not want the assassin to see me cry. I refused to. "No, no, no. Abigale, turn around and face me. I must make sure you are doing it right, for your own well-being, of course." I clenched my fists and turned abruptly, looking to the ceiling as I did so. The shaking in my hands worsened as I again reached up to pull at the lace. I felt sick. "Look at me."

My nostrils flared. Many hateful scenarios flashed through my mind so passionately that they surprised me with their violence. Lachance began to snicker. My lip trembled as I tore my eyes from the ceiling to stare down at him. It was only then when my eyes fell upon a screen divider did I realize how sick the assassin truly was. "Y-you..." I glared at the flimsy bit of wood and cloth. It was not very large but it effectively concealed the madman and tub from my gaze. He could not see me nor I him, yet he knew my every move. He again tormented me for his own personal amusement. He knew I refused to look at him and so ordered me to, just to make me stare dumbly at a screen. I felt foolish for being so easily read. I now knew why it took him so long to get into the bath...he was setting up the little cover as quietly as possible. My body shook with repressed rage."I-I despise you! You are foul and wicked a-and -"

"An avid observer of your personal boundaries? Cruel of me. You still undressing, yes?" Lachance commented lamely. I quickly removed my overdress and pants, eyes never leaving the screen before me. As I stood there in my chemise and stockings I felt less afraid. In my fears stead was a nearly impossible anger. The assassins 'humor' was dark, perverse and twisted. I was rattled by hate and confusion. "I'll take the rapid sound of movement as my answer. Good. Why don't you go into the little pack by the door? I think a good story will help us unwind and ready us for bed. Let's give the little book we bought today a try."

I had only been alone with Lucien Lachance for a little over twenty-four hours. In the time that we had spent together thus far, I found myself more irritated by the man than afraid. Part of me wondered if it was a good thing. When I had first seen him I had nearly fainted from my own fear. He had been a constant thorn in my side for little over a month. His filthy lustful notes were now interpreted differently. Every threat and lewd comment were his ways of staying a constant in my thoughts. It was as if he had read my every weakness in the few moments he had me pinned in the Skingrad alley. With hardly any effort the madman had effectively planted himself into my mind. All he set out to do he did and it was remarkably stunning and equally disgusting.

I stuffed my clothing in my bag with unneeded roughness. My body was still all jitters from his game with the bath and divider. I again glared at the screen. "Can you not read that book yourself?"

"I am illiterate." Lachance again chuckled, the sound deep and relaxed, his words more so. "How rude of you to presume."

Again, his words irked me. He was impossibly insufferable. He found so much merriment by his own words and actions, a madman through and through. "You wrote me several letters." I snapped, pushing my hair from my face as I bent over his pack. I missed my hair ribbon terribly but I would not yet dare ask him for it back. Truthfully, I did not know nor want to know what he did with it.

"Astute observation. I just so love bedtime stories, I shall gladly lie through my teeth to have one read to me...so read it. It was not free, as you well know." I grabbed the book with disdain, wanting more to toss it in his putrid bath water than read it. But my angered actions faltered and I frowned down at the contents of his pack. Beneath the rather obnoxious title I was being forced to read were two more interesting tomes. The binding of one was old and gray, the lettering obscure. Opusculus Lamae was all I could decipher but I knew not its meaning. The second book quickly grabbed my attention as I had seen it several times before. Simply looking upon it pained me. The Old Ways...The Count read it on and off. It had stayed primarily on the little table by his favorite chair. The last time I had seen it in his hands was on the night I met Lucien Lachance. The cover was thick and green and easily distinguishable. I fought the urge to touch it.

"Y-you have other books that look more pleasing. Perhaps I could read you one of them?" I asked nervously, still eyeing the inside of the assassin's pack. I had never before been so intrusive and I knew it was wrong to look into another's possessions but I was still very tempted to poke through his things. I was curious as to what else he carried on him. A jester's hat seemed appropriate for one as mad as he...

"Perhaps not. One is not mine, it is Vicente's. Must have gotten mixed in our belongings, I suppose. It is not something the lover of a vampire wants to read, I can promise you that. I made the mistake of skimming it. Very regrettable." He muttered, followed by the sound of splashing. "The other is exceedingly dull but informative. It is painful to read but I will finish it. I cannot leave a book unread, no matter how sleep inducing it is. I'm sure you sympathize." I did agree with the assassin but my stubbornness kept me quiet. I was still very embarrassed and vexed, I did not want to acknowledge having anything in common with the madman. "Now I am nearly done here so I would suggest that you quit stalling and read. Sit on the bed so that I may hear you better."

I walked over to the bed and pulled the covers back. My irritation continued to overpower my fears. So long as Lachance was away from me, the bed was not so daunting. I sat down and pulled my knees to my chest, bunching the blankets over me. Although my clothing was still quite concealing I felt exposed regardless. In an effort to comfort myself, I wrapped my arms around my legs and held the book out, keeping its no doubt offensive context as far away as I could. With another indignant huff, I peeked inside, regretting it immediately. "...You cannot expect me to read this."

"I can and do."

"B-but it is a... an act? A play? I do not know but there are lines and scenes! It is not an actual story." I complained, turning the racy and appalling pages. What little I saw as I flipped through the book brought an uncomfortable blush to my cheek. There were many explicit and embarrassing words. Entire segments were nothing but 'humorous' sexual actions written with startling shamelessness, punctures of dialog scattered haphazardly further down the page, acting more as a filter rather than a focus. The 'scenes' were set too well. "T-this was on the shelf for public eyes? It is atrocious! This is not literature, it is disgusting!"

"A play? I heard of erotic books but erotic plays are new to me. Pick an act and give it a read, beloved." I scowled and reflipped the pages, seeking the tamest scenario possible. However, unbeknownst to Lucien Lachance, there were excerpts of explicit deeds titled 'set'. He told me to read the act, which consisted of only awkward and terrible dialog. The formatting of the book was my loophole and I intended to use it.

With a heavy sigh, I skimmed the pages, finding myself back to the beginning of the book. The 'sets' had yet to become overly sexual and were on the gentle side. It was good enough, despite it making me feel foul to gaze upon. "Act four, Scene three. Titled: Spear. Continued." With great difficulty, I attempted to keep my voice smooth and uninterested, hoping that Lachance would get bored by my lack of enthusiasm. I tapped the book nervously, already not wanting to continue..."It goes right into speech." I said nervously, getting only an encouraging hum in response. I sighed anew, biting back a whine. "Lifts-Her-Tail: -"

Lachance immediately burst into laughter. "Lifts-Her-Tail?"

"You picked the book. She is an Argonian." I grumbled, secretly thankful for the interruption.

"An Argonian with a very unfortunate parentage. They must have hated her greatly to name her that." He replied with another chuckle. "But that simply will not do. I cannot in good consciousness hear about an Argonian in a carnal situation."

"Does it make you uncomfortable?" I asked the screen snidely, finding the flimsy cover empowering.

"It greatly does. Argonian women are intelligent, beautiful and skilled. They are not to be viewed as sexual objects. I could greatly harm that author for implying otherwise." I scoffed, finding his random compassion to Lifts-Her-Tail almost humorous. I doubted his sincerity. "Anyway, we shall name her something else... This story is about a maid, yes?" I stiffened and glared, already knowing his intentions. I offered no refusal and allowed him to continue without complaint. "Abigale Lynn, won't you give Lifts-Her-Tail the night off?"

I took another very deep breath and tried to seem unfazed. "Fine. But I am not an Argonian. Some of their dialog will not make sense. The Lord likes her tail, hence her name."

Lachance found more humor in my comment. "Easily fixed. They say tail, you read breasts or backside. I personally find great pleasure by simply looking at you from behind...so we shall go with backside. Simply improvise, my dear." I pinched the bridge of my nose. I wanted desperately to be away from the madman and his ridiculous games. "It seems our problem is solved. Do read on."

I unclenched my jaw, something I had hardly registered doing and again focused on the book. I would read him the dreadful story but I would do so with no emotion. I kept my tone stiff and cold. "Lifts-Her...Abigale Lynn: Certainly not kind Sir. I am here but to clean your chambers." Lucien Lachance again began to snicker. "Crantius Colto: Is that all you have come here for, little one? My chambers?"

"Is it not like an echo of Castle Skingrad?" He interrupted in a mix of mocking astonishment and cruel joy. "I can almost picture it. Do continue."

"Abigale Lynn: I have no idea what it is you imply, Master. I am but a poor Breton maid. Crantius Colto: So you are, my dumpling. And a good one at that. Such strong legs and shapely backside." More laughter rang from behind the screen, followed by a great rushing sound as he stood. Lachance had finished his bath. "This story is absurd. May I stop?"

"You may not, I am enjoying it. Keep going." I bit the inside of my cheek and tried to finish the dreadful act as quickly as I could.

"Abigale Lynn: You embarrass me, Sir. Crantius Colto: Fear not. You are safe here with me. Abigale Lynn: I must finish my cleaning, Sir. The mistress will have my head if I do not. Crantius Colto: Cleaning, eh? I have something for you. Here, polish my sword...sword...? Spear! P-polish my spear." I blanched at my accidental slip. In my rush to finish, I had let my mind roam. I could not help but see the small similarities. I thought of the occasion when I was asked by the Count to polish his sword. The memory made me pout and feel self-loathing, I had momentarily forgotten myself. Regrettably, Lachance quickly latched onto my error and my horribly obvious feelings toward it.

"Did I just get gifted a rare glimpse of the goings on during your shift for Hassildor? Sword polishing...I bet. I'm sure he enjoys that very much." The madman chuckled cruelly. I listened with my lower lip between my teeth at the rustling of fabric, feeling anxious as he dressed. I was unsure why but my innocent imaginations humiliated me. Something so little caused me to feel great shame. The story's vile implications of polishing made me revisit the memory uncomfortably like it had somehow become tainted. Of course, the experience of cutting my hand before my intimidating vampire Master was not a good one. Nor was the odd behavior of the Count that followed the bloody injury. I had repeatedly embarrassed myself before him, much like I did with Lachance now.

I swallowed hard and placed the awful little book down, my pout still present and deep. "I misspoke."

The assassin finally emerged from behind the screen, his hair in a wet tail, his face smug. I looked away quickly upon seeing he was shirtless and wearing nothing but pants. My pout turned into a scowl. "So you have never played with Hassildor's sword, hmm? I've heard otherwise -"

"Your informant is as heartless as you." I snapped, still refusing to face him. I inhaled shakily and tried to refrain from showing my distress. "...He certainly had me fooled." I thought then of how I confided in Vicente Valtieri and how I had for some unknown reason trusted him. He appeared so sincere and readily willing and able to 'help'. I supposed he had learned much in the ways of manipulation after having walked Nirn for so many years. He claimed to be at least twice as old as the Count, after all.

"Come now, Vicente would be so hurt if he knew you used that tone in reference to him. He has no choice but to tell me. I ask, he answers." I fidgetted as I watched Lachance from the corner of my vision. He began to blow out several candles, drawing closer to the bed. I hugged my knees tighter, now forced to face our awful sleeping arrangement and the madman's statement.

"W-why would you ask him such things?" I questioned timidly, not truly wanting to know the answer. I also quickly kicked the loathsome little book to the foot of the bed. I hoped he would forget its existence.

"I have a strong interest in what you allow between your legs. I am very curious as to what causes you to spread them as well. I thought it obvious." Lachance blew out all candles but one on the bedside table. He stood by his preferred side of the bed and grinned down at me. I stared away at nothing but my focus was locked onto his form. The madman then reached down and violently pulled the blankets from the bed. I gave a little gasp from the shock of the action. I swallowed hard and stared up at him. "Pity, that chemise is far too long. However, those stockings are oddly becoming. Do they go over your knees?" My face burned. I looked down at the mattress as he continued to stare with a cruel little smirk. "This is rather surreal. Fantasies rarely ever live up to expectations, yet here you are. And all that white makes you look so pure."

"You promised you would not stare," I said while nervously inching away. My heart was beating fast and my mouth went dry. I reached up and clutched the little amulet tightly. He could not harm me, he had sworn an oath...but he could make me very, very uncomfortable and torture me with his perverse and wicked ways.

"And you promised you would talk." He said matter-of-factly, still watching me intensely. "Until you do so, I shall gawk. You are quite the vision, so very lovely. How does it not go to your head? Perhaps you do not see what I see. I would love to know you better, especially intimately. Will you be lying down soon? I'm looking forward to seeing your hair out on the pillows. I wonder what sounds you make...you are blushing."

"You are horrid." I eventually ground out, again hugging myself tightly. "Fine! A-anything to make you stop. What would you like to talk about?" He only proceeded to grin at me, eyes narrowed ever so slightly as he continued to eye me like meat. I decided that I did not want to know what he desired to speak of. "W-why did you take the blankets? Just to be obnoxious and stare?"

"In part." He confessed as he finally took a seat beside me. I longed to sleep on the floor. "Truthfully I cannot stand a tightly made bed. Far too constricting. I am not a fan of pilliows either." He laid the covers out over us then, casting me a peculiar glance. "Do you intend to sleep sitting up? That will irk me immensely...I forbid it. Lie down. I promised to be good." I slowly began to do as told, trying desperately not to tremble.

"Can't I sleep on the ground?" I pleaded, remaining propped on my elbows. Lachance continued to watch me with amusement.

"Certainly not. The farther north we travel the colder it will become. We'll have to stay close to fend off the chill." The assassin stretched out some and winced. He then curiously poked through the blankets, regrettably retrieving The Lust Argonian Maid. He looked pointedly at me before thumbing through the pages. I shifted awkwardly as I watched him.

"Y-you promise not to touch me? You swear it?" Despite him being a foul human being, I hoped to receive a small bit of comfort. He had taken an oath but I did not know the exact wording of his promise. There could be loopholes and I put nothing by the madman. Still, I felt hearing it could help calm me, even if slightly.

"No. I will not make a promise I cannot keep." He said while lying down fully, holding the book out above him. I found myself tempted to bolt from the room. "We will undoubtedly touch each other much in our sleep. It tends to happen when you share a bed with another, as I'm sure you know. However, I won't knowingly slide my hand into your smalls, if that is what you are asking." He smiled impishly at me. "And cold and heartless as I am, I thoroughly enjoy cuddling a pretty girl. I took no oath against holding you...and good evasion to my order in regards to your reading. You skipped the interesting content and read only the 'act'. I must be more careful with you. Living with a man who can hear your lies must have taught you much. You are sneaky and clever."

"I am anything but clever. I am stuck here in bed with you by my own foolishness." I lamented, watching as he sat up, placed the book on the little table and blew out the last candle. My skin prickled at the total blackness of the room, the only light coming from the crack under the door.

"You are too critical of yourself. You had little choice in the matter. Vicente was determined to remove you from the Castle. Your agreeing was pure luck." Although I could no longer see the assassin, I was highly aware of his movements. I flinched as he came closer, eyes darting over his slowly appearing figure. I was suddenly alerted to a warm hand against my chest, fingers splayed over my collar bone. I yelped at his random touch and grabbed his wrist, mortified as he pressed me down flat to the bed and loomed over me. The white from his teeth and gleam of his eyes were the most visible features I could see. Lachance placed his other hand firmly over my mouth and hushed me. "Don't scream, Abigale. I am trying to save you from yourself. I told you to lie down and you did not. I am very tempted to use your defiance to my benefit."

My heart thundered, my body broke into a cold sweat. I weakly pushed my hands against his chest, growing more afraid by the solid feel of him. I did not know if his promise was truly broken nor did I want to inadvertently break it by resisting him. I did lie down for Lachance but not fully, I did not know if that counted as disobedience. The madman also had a cruel sense of humor and took great pleasure in my discomfort. I clung to the possibility of this being another of his 'games'.

"Oh, do not fear, I am in control of myself. My temptations will not so easily rule me." He nearly purred, leaning in close. "But do take care with your little rebellions. They are stimulating. I find that I like them and you too much." His hand slowly slipped from my mouth, the other lingered on my chest for a moment more before it moved to play with my hair. My breath was ragged, my lip trembled. I hated being the mess I was now reduced to. It was my constant state that I tried to hide, Lucien Lachance merely surfaced it. I loathed him because of this. "So peculiar and suspicious. You perform admirably and do not act on your fears even when you are unsure of my motives." With his free hand, he placed his palm against my fingers, holding them to his chest and eyeing them curiously. "Is that a learned behavior inflicted by Hassildor too?"

I had no comment and only watched him hatefully as he lightly caressed my hand. His tone was concerned, no doubt falsely. I did not want to encourage him by any means. Instead, I focused on the heat of his skin. I despised Lachance but his warmth was still a curiosity to distract me. However, I was soon quickly startled by the pulsing beneath my fingertips. I tried to pull away, recoiling from the strangeness, but his grip prevented me from doing so. The beat was fast yet somehow steady and strong. I found it odd and disconcerting. I did not like the feeling. Realizing that I had unknowingly placed my hand against Lachance's heart was appalling. The only heartbeat I knew was my own. It was so very unreal to know that the madman had a working heart. It almost made him seem human. No, I did not like it. I did not like feeling the wicked force that powered him.

"I do not know what is more upsetting," Lachance continued, running his free fingers down my arm, easily recognizing my hesitance and its cause. "You pulling away from a heartbeat or my poor example of being the first you've touched in...years? Tragically sad, my dear lady." After a moment of his awkward touching, he released me. Although I wanted to turn away from him I could not. I did not know what other nonsense he had planned for me. The man was exhausting but I would not take my eyes from him. "Such a shame. You should not be so deprived of warmth and affection. Poor girl, you need not be so helpless. I could aid you in empowering yourself. I could also ease your pains and loneliness."

The assassin carefully settled himself beside me, far too closely. One arm snaked under my head while the other draped over my torso, hand coming up to caress my cheek. I stiffened and ignored his words. I forced myself to look at him. My senses were overly high and sporadically absorbing random information regarding him. I tried my hardest to block any and all thoughts from my mind and failed. Despite being so addled I did my best to speak as calmly as I could. Constantly reminding myself of the amulet that had again tangled in my hair helped some. "Please, let me go. I-I cannot sleep like this."

He too ignored my words and eyed me peculiarly. What I could see of him in the darkness was certainly unnerving. His eyes were frighteningly black, stare quizzical and fathomless. The normally handsome features were now more shadowed and menacing, appearing sinister - borderline ghoulish and cold. If not for his constant smile in the day, I wondered if this harshness would show in the light. He had toyed with me before as he did with me now, but I could not say I had seen genuine anger from him and I certainly did not want to. He could purposely make himself terrifying. He was Dark Brotherhood, after all.

It occurred to me then that he was the last thing many saw. My mouth again went dry and I became all too aware of the arms that held me and the hand against my cheek. I tried not to think of how much blood he had joyously spilled. "Would you greatly object to me kissing you?" He asked me suddenly, startling me with the random inquiry. I blinked and watched as a devious little smile formed on his lips. Caught in my musings of the macabre while being held by a murderer, I found that I did not want to deny him, at least not outright.

"I...I-I would." I began nervously, finding myself unable to look away from him.

Lachance's stare narrowed slightly, smirk still present. His eyes hooked me. "You let me before." You did not give me many options, I thought anxiously. Although I was very afraid of the madman I had no intentions of giving him his way repeatedly out of fear. I did not want to be again put in such a position. I did not want to forever be stuck in that alleyway.

Lachance seemed fond of ultimatums and bargains. I hoped that if I named my terms - any ridiculous terms - he would agree. That way I would not again be pulled into doing as he wished from my inaction or fright. I needed some form of upper hand, aside from the amulet I wore. I wracked my mind for a solution. I wetted my lips and quickly glanced down at the blankets before bringing my gaze back to him. My heart raced. "I would let you if there was something between us."

As expected, he quickly grew interested. "Go on."

"I-if there was a barrier...Like cloth." I said uncertainly, watching as his brow quirked. I chewed my lip as I observed his expression. He considered my offer, brow furrowed in thought. I felt tense by his silence. I did not see how he could exploit my offering. So long as I was clothed the was not much that he could do.

"So as of right now, I cannot kiss you here," He said while tapping my cheek. His voice caused me to flinch. "But I can kiss you here?" He rubbed my arm beneath my sleeve. I nodded, starting to feel a bit uncertain. "I suppose that is fair. It is better than nothing at any rate..." He sighed, sounding almost too uninterested...I worried further. "May I have your solemn promise to that? Swear it on my oath?" I tried to move away from him slightly. I did not know if he was intentionally acting odd to scare me into going back on my proposal, as he had me tempted to. Lachance was good at manipulation and working fear. Perhaps he truly did not like my offer and so acted odd in the hopes that I would notice and take back my offering? I saw his falseness easily. There was also the possibility that he spotted some form of exploitation...but then would he truly act so obvious?

I decided not to take any chances. He could not do much violation through my clothes, no more than he had done before, at least. "Yes, I swear it."

Lachance turned to stare at the ceiling, a large and horrible grin on his face, his fingers twirling in my hair. "Ah well. I shall simply have to make the best of what I am graciously given." I gulped. I knew then that I had done wrong but I could not see how. He did not let me wonder for long, however, as he again moved, this time letting me out of his grasp. "Get comfortable and sleep, Little Countess. Tomorrow I will decide if we are to travel further or wait another day in the city." I nodded mutely and turned away from him to lie on my side. I had no illusions of sleep. How could I hope to?

I suppressed a groan as he again embraced me. He buried his face in my hair and inhaled deeply, causing me to shudder. "You smell like flowers and heat." He chuckled lowly, the sound a soft rumble in his chest, the amused vibration felt odd against my back. I again tried to shift away from him but had no such luck. "You know, I have done much traveling in my time and have seen many things. I have partaken in great pleasures and comforts. But no matter where I go or what delights I participate in, there is nothing quite like a warm bed with a woman in it. I think it is easily my favorite place on Nirn. What is yours?"

Away from you. I mentally quipped but did not voice. Instead, I sighed and answered calmly. "I have no favorite place."

"A place you like then. Perhaps the cold embrace of Hassildor? His teeth anchored in your neck...so very soothing." Although his words were incensed me and were crude, as was his nature, his enthusiasm was gone. His voice was a murmur. He was again growing tired. "Maybe somewhere less foreboding and cold -"

"Anvil," I said quickly, hoping to encourage his inevitable slumber. "I-I do miss Anvil. The sun is always bright and warm there. The buildings are so pretty. I liked to watch the tall grass sway in the breeze or the water hit the docks...I could have watched either for hours. I miss the sand." I bit my lip at the memories that came to my mind. I often tried not to think of Anvil. Despite the badness linked to my old home, there was good there too. The land was lovely. Since speaking with Vicente, I found myself missing my family, namely my father. My chest began to ache at the image of his face in my mind and his ever tired smile. Tears burned the corners of my eyes and I tried to stop my imagination. "The sunset is beautiful. There are more colors than I can count. It is so quiet..."

Lachance sighed deeply, the sound halting my thoughts. "Another place. Anvil is in the opposite direction of our destination, I doubt we will travel to the coast, lest our journey calls for it. Do not hold to the idea, it is unlikely...think of somewhere else. I shall endeavor to bring you there." He stroked my hair as if attempting to be soothing. "Bruma, Bravil, Leyawiin, Chorrol, Kvatch...we could travel to any of these cities."

"Kvatch was nice...But please, not Bravil," I whined, earning another chuckle from the assassin.

"Vicente found that you were jailed there. I take it there are no happy memories toward the town?" He relaxed further into my back.

"None," I answered carefully, slowly realizing that it was the Dark Brotherhood who looked into my personal history for the Count all those months ago. I glanced over my shoulder at the madman. "You...you ask Vicente personal questions about me, yes?" He gave me a tired smile and nod. I chewed my lip. "C-can I ask you what you know of me?"

He inhaled deeply and pulled me close again. Despite his awful deviousness, I found his warm embrace oddly comforting. I too was growing tired but refused to sleep. "I know much. Where to start...Well, You were born in Anvil. Third era - of course, around the year 412. You attended school for a few years - you went to the little one on the hilltop, correct? Opposite the lighthouse?"

"Yes," I said with an enthusiastic nod. "You know of it?"

"Of course. I must have walked by at least dozen times." I smiled a little at the memory. I had loved school, it pained me when I could no longer go. "What else do I know...Your mother tried to make a healer out of you, according to the Mages Guild, but you could never cast. Funny for a Breton. I'd wager those fanatics at the chapel of Dibella had something to do with your stunted talents. I would gladly teach you, though I am surprised that your Count never offered."

I rubbed my eyes wearily. I did not want to speak of the Count with the assassin. He only wanted to bring up painful things. "I never asked him."

"Do you need to? Odd. You did not ask me either, I simply offered." Lachance said through a yawn. "I also know of your incarceration in Bravil, your time spent with the misfit band Thieves 'Guild' and the goings on in Skingrad. Other things too. Your favorite things..." He made a small contemplative sound. "You like books and red. I am well informed." His weariness was encouraging. I hoped soon he would sleep. "You still angry, yes? Did I sufficiently get under your skin today?" The comment, though fatigued and muttered, took me off-guard.

"I...yes?"

"Good. You are less fearful when you are cross. Firey little redhead."

XXXX

Mourning. How strange it was to do. The Count stood in a very depressing room, feeling tired and oddly detached. Janus purposely avoided this particular chamber like the plague. He could count on one hand how many times he ventured into it within the last year alone. There was nothing he needed here so pretending it did not exist was easily accomplished. Now, standing before his wife's old harpsichord, he found the space heavy but he himself indifferent.

Moments ago, the Count had rung for Hal-Liurz. He felt he owed her a small apology. Much like all else who presently wandered into his midsts, she received reckless cruelty but unlike most, his Stewardess was not afraid to voice her displeasure. Janus believed it was a very useful trait, given circumstance. It would be helpful to have his behavior checked now and again while he grieved. He also needed to tell Hal-Liurz of Rona's impending peace. The Stewardess had long begged the Count to grant his wife her desire. Like most who knew of their situation, she thought him keeping her 'living' was cruel for both Count and Countess. After half a century, he finally agreed.

Janus again looked about the chamber, staring off at the very sparsely furnished space. The room once acted as something of a parlor. The walls had been lined with large windows and numerous decorations had filled every corner. The place was once bright and luxurious. It had been Rona's favorite room. She often spent hours within the chamber, playing the harpsichord, entertaining guests, reading...then she used the space for crying, fits of anger, miscarriage...then silence.

The Count eyed the stone arches that were once windows and the space beneath them. She had been standing there, arguing with him, again refusing to feed. Rona had already started to turn sallow and gaunt. Then her expression switched to shock and confusion, the change startlingly abrupt. The smell of blood permeated the air, mixed heavily with the unmistakable scent of death. His wife had nearly collapsed from discomfort and uncertainty. There were no doctors for vampires and the Count did not know what to do, but he did all that he could. It had all happened so quickly and Rona hardly pained. Delivering his lost child was a memory that he had effectively and thankfully repressed. However, holding the child, burying his boy was something that never left him...

Hal-Liurz had knocked on the door and opened it quickly. She watched the Count with a puzzled expression, knowing well why the man refused to enter this chamber and wondering why he decided to. Janus turned his attention back to the instrument he stood beside. Mindlessly, he pressed several keys. He found the sound chilling.

"Thank you for coming quickly," Janus said, unintentionally sounding less appreciative. Currently, he could not bring himself to care that he sounded disingenuine. "I have treated you unfairly recently. I apologize for it. There is much happening that I must speak to you about." The Count continued to toy with the harpsichord, unsure of how to continue. He sighed heavily. "The Countess will soon be getting the peace she has sought."

The Stewardess' physical reaction was immediate. Her heart raced. She was distrusting and afraid. "With the help of the Brotherhood?" She eventually asked with uncertainty. The Count nodded, finally facing her. Hal-Liurz's expression was critical and curious. Her skepticism was justified. She spent her life in his service and during most of that time, the Countess had been in her eternal slumber.

"Yes. They are assisting in obtaining the cure for her vampirism. I have two months to get her affairs in order. Truly there is not much to do. I could arrange a spot dug for her in less than a days time. Nevertheless, I am trying to use this time. I'm trying to grieve." The Count ran a hand through his hair. "I am still unbelieving. It does not feel possible but it shall be done."

"I suppose that explains some things." The Stewardess began, eyeing the Count critically. "I understand that you are pained. This cannot be easy for you...I myself am not sure how to feel. It has been so long..." They lapsed into a tense and uncomfortable silence, only broken when Hal-Liurz cleared her throat. "Like I said, I understand that you are in pain but none of this can excuse your recent behavior. You have become monstrous. Using the Countess as an excuse is offensive and beneath you. I don't pretend to understand your condition but you know that I have done my research regarding it. I have been with you through great suffrage and seen things I think we would both like to forget." She straightened and glared. "In all of this, I find your treatment of Abigale Lynn most horrid. You have never abused anyone the way you do her. I cannot help but think it has little to do with your vampirism and more to do with your ownership of her."

The Count clasped his hands behind his back, jaw set in place. Janus knew that Hal-Liurz had been waiting to be summoned so that she could speak her mind on his and Abigale Lynn's difficulties. Regardless, this was not a topic that he wished to discuss. He needed no reminders of his horrid treatment to his Abigale Lynn. He was greatly irritated by her words. It was a struggle to unclench his jaw and balance his temper. "Why do you think she is not here, Hal-Liurz? I am trying to be good to her." He said sharply, still inwardly battling for peace.

"Shipping her off because you cannot control your urges is hardly good." The Stewardess snapped, easily seeing his poorly concealed fury. She shook her head discouragingly at the man's unnaturally hardened stare. "By the Nine, how do you not see this? My Lord, you are not yourself...I think you should relinquish some of your ownership. Or in the very least, let her come back to the Maids Quarters with me when she returns. There are solutions. You can be 'good' to her by doing actual good. Selfless good."

The Count nodded, his expression slowly returning to be cool and composed. He rolled his shoulders and tried to ease the surmounting tension in them while eye the Stewardess as he spoke. "I will be fixing it all, in time. She will not be slave to me forever."

Hal-Liurz blinked in surprise. The Stewardess knew that it was very unlikely that the Count would ever release the girl. She found his veiled words unsettling. She stayed quiet and scrutinized the man before her. "...You are letting her go?"

"Never," Janus answered fast, nearly causing the Stewardess to jump. "Abigale Lynn is mine and I will not be letting her go. However, I will be giving her more authority. I do not want her fear me always. I hope that with more say she shall feel secure." The Count felt a strange comfort in his plans but he did not deny the moral wrongness of them. Thinking of marriage to Abigale Lynn while still bound to a wife he was mourning for was in poor taste...yet he could not bring himself to banish the thoughts. They pleased him. He felt it to be the best solution, the greatest way to solve all their woes. He would be free to marry soon and raising her to a decent status was easily achievable. As man and wife, they would be as close to equals as he could bring them.

However, it was after marriage when he could do more. He would make her strong. She would never be above him and there was little he could do to for that, but she would be above all else. She would never again have to live in fear or be so fragile. They would be eternal companions and would exist to please each other. Untouchable by time and bound by state, matrimony, and blood... It was good. He would warm her to the idea, as his first proposal to it stunned her some. For now, he decided not to think too much about their future. Again, it was in poor tastes. He needed to grieve Rona and not pacify his pain with fantasies of Abigale Lynn. They would be there in his mind but he would try to quiet them. For now, he kept them secret but soon preparations would need to be made. He would also keep this from Hal-Liurz, at least for a while. Eventually, he would need her aid in much paperwork..."In time I intend to abolish her slavery in turn for... in time. Much needs to be done before then. For now, know that I agree with you and am working on a solution."

Hal-Liurz crossed her arms. She knew that the Count was hiding something and she was not sure if she was yet ready to know what it was. His secrets were damning and his solutions were usually taxing and tedious. "You wish to give her more say," She eventually began carefully, watching his expression. "Does that mean you intend to listen to her this time?"

Again, the Count's expression twitched back into and irritated glare. "I do listen to her and I value all that she says to me. When have I given you the impression of not?"

"You do not like being told no, Sir." The Stewardess deadpanned, off-put and oddly mildly amused by the Count's delusion. He did not appreciate her tone and stiffened. "You hate refusal, opposition. Just about any small defiance irks you. You do not tolerate 'rudeness'."

The Count looked away for a brief moment, brow furrowed. When his gaze returned to her his gaze was cold, eyes sharp. "You are right, I do not, so watch it." After a moment of feeling his still blood boil, he eventually forced the anger from his body again collected himself. "At any rate, I will remedy Abigale Lynn's fears and cope with my displeasures toward rejection. When she returns all will be well, you do not need to worry about that. I would never again harm her in any manner. I have done enough damage. She deserves only goodness. Selfless good." He quoted Hal-Liurz directly. She still watched him warily. "Now please," The Count began, ignoring the look and tapping the harpsichord purposefully. "Get rid of this."

XXXX

Lucien Lachance awoke for roughly the third time that evening and sighed contently. Finally, after hours of being roused from sleep by the feeling of being watched -which, being on the receiving end of, was rather annoying - his little companion had succumbed to her exhaustion. Abigale Lynn slept soundly and deeply, lying partly on her side and belly, one arm by her cheek, the other somewhere under her pillow. She was facing him, eyes closed, face serene, lips parted and hair everywhere. All of this he very much liked. He eyed her full, pretty lips and smirked at her confused expression. Even in her slumber, she was so very expressive.

Lucien sat up and tossed the pillow beneath his head from the bed, cursing lightly as he did so, finding the overly stuffed cushion burdensome. He again turned and watched the girl, who repeatedly proved to be a heavy sleeper, and brushed some hair from her face to further his inspection. She was unrealistically pleasing to view. He took in her features, dark eyes scraping over her face, absorbing all little details. If memory served him well, as it often did, aside from her hair color the girl looked nothing like her mother...

He then shifted his gaze to the blankets that covered her. They hugged her ample curves, leaving little to the imagination. Lucien again smirked. Although her pale bust had his attention when they first met he found now that he had a nearly animalistic pull to her hips. He placed his hand upon the one pointed in his direction and marveled at its bow. Her body was soft, skin smooth and sweet smelling. Ever feature looked to be meticulously made and maintained. It was as if she had walked out of a very nice and enticing dream.

He let out an agitated puff of air that made several of his hairs float over his vision. Pleasing as she was he could do nothing about it and sleeping beside the Dibella blessed girl was perhaps not the best of ideas. Decent rest eluded him and his dreams had been wild. He wondered if it was all magic and again cursed quietly, wearily dragging a hand down his face. No, he could not do anything, not even touch her a little... Not yet, at least. He was greatly disappointed and grudgingly laid back down. Truthfully, Lucien had no intentions of actually forcing himself on the girl, oath or no, as he had said repeatedly. In the end, her willingness would be worth the restless nights and uncomfortably tight pants.

With absolutely no tenderness or tact, the assassin pulled the girl back onto his chest. He was surprised to see her eyes flutter open for the briefest moment, fixing him with a glare before shaking her head and relaxing back into him without complaint. Lucien bit back a laugh and played with her hair, amused by her lack of reaction. It had only been a day but he found himself greatly liking the awkward girl. She had no social skills or backbone, often hiding or clinging to him while in public. It was strangely satisfying to play the protector for once. Most of all, he liked toying with her emotions and witnessing her reactions. He was learning how she thought, felt, and how she would react to certain behaviors. Best of all, she knew exactly what he was doing and tried her damnedest to hide her true self...but failed miserably and often. Still, he admired her commitment to her doomed tactics.

Lucien easily saw why the girl was so coveted besides her obvious looks. She did as told with only minimal resistance. Weak willed men or men who were painfully insecure, much like Janus Hassildor, would find this insanely pleasing. Lucien found he liked her secret fire. That quiet heat that she aimed to stifle was most appealing. He endeavored to fan those flames. There was something about that hot glare and angry flush that stirred him. It was tantalizing. Moreover, when she was mad she was not so afraid of him and when she was not so afraid of him she spoke more...

He tangled his hand in her hair and went back to sleep.

Author's Notes: DONE. *Slams drink down on table* HUZZAH!