Love or Blood

by GothicRose18

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

54. A Promise

Author's Notes: The love keeps me going, kind readers! You are all so amazing with your feedback! You all are very perceptive too! XD I do appreciate it IMMENSELY! XD I honestly don't know if I'd keep going if I didn't have readers. This would just exist in my head, I guess! Anywho, this was another chapter I just finished. I am sorry for all the grammatical errors, I will go back and edit them out, as is my new process with these long updates. (I've spelled necklace as neckless like 6 times the last few chapters...yeah, go me) XD

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Love or Blood

Chapter Fifty-two: A Promise

xxxx

For hours I fought to stay awake and watch the assassin. For the most part, I felt successful. Lucien Lachance had fallen asleep quickly while holding me. As uncomfortable and awkward as it was I was thankful that he felt so contented - for in his slumber he let me be, for the most part, at least. However, the madman clung to me like a child would to a stuffed toy for hours. Whenever I tried the slightest movement he would wake, grunt and pull me back. It was exhausting and nearly identical to his treatment of me in the Market District of the city. Eventually, I gave in to the thought of escaping him and I too surrendered to exhaustion and slept, although I was unsure when I exactly did.

When I awoke I was still a prisoner to the assassin's embrace. I was nearly trapped beneath him. Most of his upper body laid over me and one of his legs had hooked around mine. Even being half awake, I was appalled and tried to move away. Reaching behind me with some difficulty, I pushed against his chest, again receiving a grumble in response, followed by his gravely and muffled voice. "I am trying to sleep."

"You are heavy and hot," I whined, still trying to wiggle free, only to be presented with yet another obstacle. I groaned upon realizing that I was hardly able to lift my head from the pillows. "And you are lying on my hair. Would you please move a little?"

"Life is full of suffering, isn't it?" Was the response I received before the assassin again lapsed into silence as he fell back to sleep.

"Please?" I whined louder in exasperation, slowly waking further and growing embarrassed and angry over our closeness. "Please, Sir-" I halted my words, thankfully catching myself and stifling the mistake before it was made. I chewed my lip in thought, now fully alert and unsure of all. I stared absentmindedly at the assassin's hands and eyed the lightly roughened knuckles as I wondered what to do. Lachance's skin was a healthy shade but seemed so very dark in comparison to the Count. I found my musings strange and attempted to literally shake away the thoughts, wincing at the process of trying to move my head. "Mister...? Lu...Please?" It was all so very offensive to me. The madman was bold and uncouth. Worse still, I did not know what to call him - the vulgar assassin who was presently draped shamelessly over my body.

"My name is not Sir nor is it Mister Lu. I have a name. Use it." My lip returned between my teeth. I did not want to speak his name though I was unsure as to why. In Castle Skingrad, I could not bring myself to say the Count's name because I was not his equal, I was nowhere his equal. With the assassin, it just felt wrong and strangely perverse. Again, I did not know why. Perhaps it was his treatment of me. He had the habit of turning anything I said into a lewd innuendo and I despised it.

"Please, I-I do not want to." I eventually managed, trying to stifle my rising unease.

The assassin took a deep, groggy inhale. "Then I sleep and your suffering continues." Lachance settled further into me, the hand by my face came to rest near my cheek. I was newly engulfed by the madman. "Now cease your endless squirms and pleas." For a moment I tried to do as told and be still but the ache at the base of my skull grew persistently. He did not command my stillness so I did not remain so. Once his breathing deepened I deemed it safe to try to move. With nervous hands, I vainly attempted to gather my hair and pull it out from under him. I moaned in exasperation at my lack of success and again twisted beneath him to ease the tension. "Stop that." He grunted, causing me to flinch.

"Please move a little." I implored, unable to conceal my surmounting frustration. When I had shared the Count's bed he too held me. His arm seemed permanently around me and even though it was him - a man I cared for - I was still unsure and off-put by the closeness. It was new and unusual. I had never been so close to another person before. Now, with Lachance, the strangeness was greater. The assassin's breath ruffled my hair and tickled my neck. His body was warm and his movement was constant...aside from when I desired him to move. The Count did none of these things as his state of unlife did not require breathing, warmth or fidgeting. He lacked the little aches we of the living feel from an overly firm or soft mattress, and so did not move. He did not need to draw breath unless speaking and so his chest remained still. The blood within him was unflowing and cold. His heart did not beat, so there was no warmth...Again, I strove to stop my thoughts and continued to complain. "It hurts. You are making my head ache."

"I could say the same to you." Lachance admonished, his voice uncharacteristically tight.

I sighed from irritation and gave another half-hearted push against him, angling my head awkwardly. "Please?" I was unsure if the man was being impossibly stubborn, deliberately irritating, or genuinely tired. Regardless, I was done with being beneath him, pain or no. Not only did I despise him but his body felt increasingly warmer by the second, which was oddly comfortable and uncomfortable at the same time. Every bit of him pressed into me but I did my best not to think of what parts of Lucien Lachance were where on me. "If my voice grates in your ears and gives you a headache please move and I will be silent."

"Wrong head, my dear." Was the assassin's nonchalant reply. "Do not say I did not warn you." I did not understand and repressed the urge to roll my eyes. I gave another agitated huff and tried to raise myself onto my elbows. The assassin again grunted and placed his hand on my hip, stopping the action. "By Sithis! Stop squirming. It is maddening. I wanted more sleep. Unless you intend to ease my ache, be still."

"Ease you?" I echoed into the pillows with disdain. "I will gladly let you sleep more if..." My voice failed me and I was struck with a near crippling wave of nauseating disgust. I shrieked in repulsion as all suddenly came together, my face burning with embarrassment from both my near stunning naivety and Lachance's prominent arousal. I had been trying so hard not to register his body that I had overlooked the changes occurring under the blanket. "G-get off!" I squealed, not wanting to move and wanting to move away frantically all at once. It was physically taxing to try and block the feel of him against me. I did not want to move under him despite desperately needing to be away. I did not want to feel it more than I was already forced to. "Please get off of me! Get off!" The removal of his person was a dire need.

"I warned you." He chided, thankfully lifting himself from me, his movements still sluggish from sleep. "Perhaps next time you will heed me."

"H-how dare you?!" I sat up quickly, bunching the covers over myself and hugging them tightly to my chest. The madman too sat up, his expression tired but otherwise unfazed. My face continued to burn scarlet as he simply yawned. I was appalled by him. I could not stifle my outrage as I glared daggers at the assassin beside me. How he could be so calm with his lewdness was astounding. "You are shameless a-and vile! Have you no restraint?!"

Lucien Lachance quirked his brow and eyed my flushed face curiously. "You do realize that I cannot control my...oh, what is a term delicate enough for sensitive ears? Hmm...exitement. Yes, I cannot control my excitement towards you, my dear. Especially not when your body is so close, warm and wiggling. I did tell you to stop, did I not?" I was then further outraged as he proceeded to stretch so very casually. "Now stop speaking. Your frantic tones do little to help my arousal subside."

My lip was nearing the point of being bloodied by my own teeth as I continued to glare at him. Finally, unable to stand his smug face any longer, I stood from the bed quickly and marched to my pack. I did my best to not look at the madman despite feeling his eyes on me as I crossed the room. With blatant aggression, I rummaged through my bag and withdrew the pants and overdress I was ordered to remove last night. Once in hand, I quickly made my way to the screen divider, every intent of redressing myself behind it, only to be stopped by Lachance.

"Going somewhere?" He asked, his voice laced with amusement, suddenly alert and awake. "Does the natural bodily function of a healthy male truly repulse you so?"

I turned to him with a scowl, angered by his smirk and mortified by the tented blankets in his lap. Lachance's attempt at concealing himself was poorly executed. I turned my head away and tried not to acknowledge his body any more than I already had. "Once done by you, yes. You are repulsive and offensive." I answered stiffly, hardly able to tame my hate. "I would like to dress so that we may leave. The sooner we go, the sooner I return to Skingrad."

The assassin scoffed, his smile never faltering. "Are we nearly done with this fit of petty annoyance?"

"Petty?! You violated me again!" I said in utter outrage, nearly shaking with anger. After a moment, I quickly sought composure, remembering Lachance's behavior and the joys he received from irking me. I closed my eyes and tried to breathe, gathering my hair to one shoulder in an effort to busy my hands and distract myself. Arguing with him was pointless. It was what he wanted, of course. I refused to be his entertainment. I went to walk behind the screen only to be stopped newly, this time by a low whistle, signaling me to again turn to him. I sighed in irritation and tossed my clothing on the screen before facing Lachance. The madman patted the space on the mattress that I had previously occupied and eyed it meaningfully.

"Please, come sit. I think someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Let us try this again. We need to talk, regardless. Must clear the air and all of that."

"Command me then or I will not be joining you," I said heatedly, surprising myself with the boldness of my tone. Instantly, I regretted speaking so haughtily as from my experience, men did not like any form of cheek. I blanched but managed to remain rigid and falsely confident. Lachance's focus locked onto me, the intensity of his stare was chilling. The little hairs on the back of my neck rose and I fought the urge to pinch my lip between my teeth. There was a strange glint in his eyes, making him look intrigued and oddly tempted. I faltered at his gaze, straining to not lose my calm demeanor completely. The assassin sat up further and continued to watch me, a little smirk slowly forming on his lips. His black gaze was eating away at my resolve but I met him as equally as I could. The look was dangerous...but not angry. I did understand it. I did not like it.

He proceeded to stare at me wordlessly as I did him. I was awaiting his order or command but he had yet to give one. As I stood near the foot of the bed, I felt the room's air grow increasingly thick with tension, so much so that it discomforted me more than his dark gaze. I again eyed the mattress and the nearly naked assassin wordlessly beckoning me back to it with a tilt of his head. Eventually, the madman's knowing little smirk grew into a full grin, looking dangerous and charming all at once. Lucien Lachance remained quiet so I again turned and walked stiffly behind the screen. Once hidden, I let out a long breath that I had been holding as quietly as possible. My face burned and I felt oddly jittery. I needed to collect myself. It had only been minutes since I awoke but the man was already under my skin. I moved quickly and went to dress as fast as I could, hoping to be changed before he summoned me back to his side.

"Oh, Little Countess..." The madman called with a chuckle. I swallowed hard and stopped my dressing as I heard the bed shift from Lachance's standing, followed by his footsteps as he approached the divider. I winced as he tapped the flimsy screen several times, the madman soon rounding it with a roguish grin befitting of his lunacy. "What are you more cross with, my body or your natural temptation to it?" He asked smugly while placing his arm atop the corner of the divider. "You needn't be so ashamed. Desire is in your blood...a very strong and near unquenchable part of your Dibellan nature."

His wrongful assumption made me astoundingly angry. How he could possibly interpret my repulsion to his form as any sort of attraction or curiosity was pure madness. "You are delusional," I said devoid of emotion, narrowing my gaze, causing the assassin to only grin wider. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from insulting him again. He had a way of working me into speech, as involuntary as a reflex. He constantly commented on my 'fire' and strove for arguments and awkwardness. He enjoyed the calamity and my frustration but I was unsure as to why. What could he possibly hope to achieve from provoking me? Last night he had pointed out that I was less fearful when angry and it was true. However, this discontented me further. Why did the assassin want me unafraid of him? It seemed counterproductive to his agenda...whatever it was he desired.

But as I eyed the madman, I realized that I did not fear him as much as I should. Lucien Lachance was an assassin - a murderer. He killed for profit and evidently enjoyed his work. However, he was a man, a mortal man. He ate when hungry, he slept when tired, he had mortal weakness and his strength was not endless. I then thought of the Count and his every calculated move. All he did was purposeful and strong. Deliberate. Simple gestures were premeditated and all was impactful. His red eyes were always searching and intense. Even cultured displays could turn severe or deadly at the drop of a septim and the outcome depended on his preference. The Count's strength was infinite. He was immortal and had not living weakness. He did not need to sleep when tired...but he did need to eat when he grew hungry.

"Perhaps I am." The assassin continued, breaking me from my thoughts. "However, I would like to point out a fact: it was you who violated me. If you wish to get into the technicalities, I could elaborate further for you."

I blinked and stared at him with extreme scrutiny. I shook my head at the madman in disbelief, my upper lip slightly curled at his ridiculous allegation. "How on Nirn -"

"I thought so." He answered fast, moving closer to me. "You see, I very politely asked you to stop moving. I, an innocent lamb, was trying to sleep. You bucked against me with blissful abandon. I was a helpless victim to your Dibellan wiles. I even asked you to stop." He pouted, feigning sorrow. "You being angry at me for arousal that you caused is akin to swatting a dog for chewing the bone he was just gifted. I am so very confused, conflicted, excited and apologetic...It is all your fault yet I am the one to be punished?" He reached up to toy with my hair, wrapping a lock around his finger, voice low and eyes playful. "I demand justice."

"You are absurd." I squared my shoulders. "I-If you want justice then let us go to the guard and explain our situation. I doubt they will be so sympathetic to your plight."

He inhaled sharply through his teeth. "I suppose you have a point but I did not specify Imperial Legion justice. Moreover, I think we can settle this together like two rational adults." Lachance came closer still, ever shameless with his desperate pursuit. I gulped and tried to look away from him, finding it impossible as he nearly took up all my vision. I held my breath and braced myself for the impending repulsion. "We will roll around in bed as lovers, wrestle naked for a bit like animals and then take out our mutual sexual frustrations. We can be needlessly violent or hopelessly passionate." He purred, plucking at the sleeve of my chemise. "I shall follow your lead to ensure your comfort. See? A reasonable, balanced and beneficial solution for both." The hand that played with my hair moved further down to instead toy with the amulet I wore. "Let us be rid of all this needless tension."

I glanced down at the black amulet he held away from my breast, only to bring my gaze back to him as evenly as I could. I thought oddly on how his eyes matched the gem in both gleam and color. My pulse quickened but I kept my tone cool and as emotionless as possible. "The tension you speak of is one-sided. Entirely your own. Please," I placed my hand over his and carefully removed his hand from the necklace, much like he had done to me the previous evening. I kept my stare locked onto his, finding a peculiar strength in his blatant motives and the protective jewel. I tried to senselessly focus on the roughness of his hands as I touched him. Again, trying to remove the curious feeling from the man it was attached to. "I-I beg of you to cease this notion of you and I for it shall never be -"

"Not for a day, not for an hour, not for a second." He said quickly, stealing the words from my throat. His brow had become slightly furrowed and his grin more challenging. I only stared dumbfoundedly. Slowly, I remembered the origin of my speech. Of course, the statement felt familiar to me but I had not linked it to the response I had sent Lachance. His direct quote of my letter was startling and took me off-guard. My mouth went dry and I felt oddly sheepish. Knowing the assassin had memorized my note was chilling. Stranger still was that I too had memorized the words in my own way. It was an odd coincidence that did not bode well. "So you say," He continued sharply. "I remain unconvinced. I'll have you know the odds are in my favor, Little Countess. You are a Dibellan, after all, and I believe you already considered the 'notion' of you and I long before we started this little journey of ours." Lachance spoke with far too much confidence and I found it difficult to continue to meet his gaze.

I felt myself blush but I did not dare turn away and incriminate myself further. It shamed me to admit it but what Lucien Lachance said was true. After the Count's first betrayal, the assassin always lingered in my thoughts as a possible escape. He had asked to court me and meet me. I had greatly considered him as a potential release from Castle Skingrad. However, I knew the price I would have to pay as debt to him, as the madman had made his desires perfectly clear. Despite Lachance's looks, there was nothing about the man that I found moderately appealing and I would not lie with another based solely on their features...unless there was the chance of freedom. It was wrong but saying I had not considered it on many nights was wronger still. I very much was tempted and it greatly dishonored me. I had been pushed to the brink of whoring myself to the assassin to get away from the man I cared for.

Now I stood before Lucien Lachance, the man who had unknowingly, yet knowingly almost had me due to my sheer desperation. Fate was odd. I wanted to declare Lachance a liar, a madman, and claim his accusations false...but I could not. No matter how offensive he was, no matter how twisted his motives, I was shadowed by him for safety, something I had thought about often. I had to be away from the Count and the Lachance was my defender.

I swallowed hard, somehow unable to lie directly to the assassin. Instead, I went over his words and latched onto another subject, unable to keep the emotion from my voice. "W-what does me being a Dibellan have to do with anything?"

Lachance quirked his brow, smile slipping altogether. "What a wonderfully obvious evasion...I'll allow your deception. We shall visit that topic another day, perhaps." He pursed his lips and returned some space to me. "And to answer your question, Dibellan's desires are crippling. You find someone you like - physical or otherwise - and are touched in a way that you enjoy...well, not much will stop you from getting what you want then. Morals are turned to ash." I was surprised, relieved and curious as he turned from me and walked away. Lachance retrieved a shirt from his pack and pulled it over his head. "Speaking of, I don't recall you putting up much of a struggle after I got my kiss from you and went for more. Hmm...no, not at all."

XXXX

Hal-Liurz woke the following morning with a strange heaviness in her chest. She went about her duties as Stewardess and ran the Castle much like she did each day but all she did felt monotonous and taxing. The burdensome feeling would not leave her. She supposed it was due to seeing Shum gro-Yarug haul off the Countess' harpsichord. It was one of the very few things the Count had allowed to linger in his manor for over half a decade. Watching the instrument be loaded on a carriage and shipped back to Leyawiin gave Hal-Liurz an eerie grasp of reality. The Countess would soon be at rest. It was really happening.

The Stewardess had to excuse herself. She returned to her chambers shortly after her revelation. Once there she sat by her window and stared off at the city. Her mind continued to roam. She realized then that she did not know how to feel about Countess' approaching end. For almost all her life she had tended to the unmoving woman who she hardly knew but knew to love. What would happen with Countess Rona gone? Bringing the Countess to peace had become her life's private mission. Hal-Liurz had begged the Count for decades and had always been denied. She wanted both to be at peace. Now he came to her with the decision she had so longed for. It was as wished by her mother so long ago.

Despite all the recent events in Castle Skingrad, the Stewardess could not help but to worry for the Count. It had been the three of them for so long now. She could not help but wonder how all would go. Presently, the Count was indifferent and cold but hotheaded when tempted. She knew eventually the man would break down in a fit of tears. He had turned so very violent recently, his behavior and actions borderline gruesome...but it was not always so.

Not long ago she wished to resign. It was good that she did not. She would remain loyally by his side during the Countess' upcoming end. Through it all, she would take care of him...

XXXX

Hal-Liurz kneeled by her mother's bedside, face buried in her palms, weeping softly. It had all happened so quickly and the young Argonian was still in a state of shock. She could only sob and shake her head. Nothing had been certain for so long now but her mother had been the one constant anchor, the one binding force that kept the very out of place Argonians happy, loved and in Castle Skingrad. Now her mother was gone and Hal-Liurz knew nothing would be the same. All was a game of chance. Soon she would have no home. She would be poor, abandoned, motherless...

The pain was indescribable. Her mother would have scolded her - should have scolded her - for getting worked into such a state of distress but she could no longer do such a thing. Hal-Liurz looked up again to her mother's pale and lifeless figure. How a cough could so quickly lead to death made her head spin. Just hours before the woman had been herself. Cranky, compassionate and ever hardworking. The deterioration was baffling. Hal-Liurz did not want to believe that she was now alone. So very alone.

Her childhood was glorious. She had been lavished with luxuries that she had often taken for granted. She was an Argonian born and raised inside Castle Skingrad. Never mind the gowns, jewels, and gifts; she had been taught to read, write, to do mathematics and even learned some sorcery. Most of her race knew not how to spell their own name. All this wonderment had been overlooked up until three years ago.

When the Count and Countess of Skingrad had become afflicted all had changed. Within two weeks of their new condition, the Countess had lost her baby and the Count went mad. It had been horrifying. Worse still, the Countess, who was the only one friend to Hal-Liurz and her mother had taken ill and fell into a coma during the two weeks as well. They were left alone with the Count, kept only by her mother's usefulness and the Count's inability to actively search for new help. That was three years ago...Now her mother was gone.

More tears ensued from her grim realization. Hal-Liurz had liked the Count greatly until he nearly lost his mind from vampirism. He had treated her fairly and well but was always at odds with her race. He openly expressed his dislike on several occasions to her mother. Thankfully, the Count never acted on his threats and always quieted his distaste for her race whenever Hal-Liurz had been in earshot. She knew, of course, but she had appreciated his deceit for her own reasons. He had let her mother know that if she proved to be burdensome he would ship them both back to Black Marsh. Hal-Liurz had never set foot in her home province and by her mother's stories, she prayed she would never have to...now it seemed imminent.

Hal-Liurz was a girl, she was only sixteen years old. She was not skilled or valuable like her mother. She was not brave or nearly as well-spoken. The Count of Skingrad did not need her. She would be taken from her home and all she loved. She prayed that wherever she was to go, she could have a place to bury her mother. She would need a plot of land to visit.

A knock sounded from the door and little Hal-Liurz jumped a mile. She sniffled and glared at the wood, no doubt that stupid Nordic maid delivering linens in an untimely fashion. She decided then that she could use the sheets as a respectable cover for her mother until she had her taken to the chapel. The thought rotted her stomach. Not only was the vision nearly impossible to handle but the young Argonian did not know who to contact. Who would help her? "It's open." She muttered in near delirium.

She watched on in a haze of tears as the door swung open. A part of her was ready and wanting to give the maid a piece of her mind. Anything to distract her from all the current awfulness was wholly welcomed. However, the person who stood in the doorway would receive none of her anger.

Hal-Liurz looked up from her position on the floor and stared confusedly at the Count. He remained in the opening, body composed and face stoic as he watched her. "M-my lord," Hal-Liurz murmured, wiping her eyes as she made a move to stand. "I did not..." The Count silenced her with a simple gesture of his hand.

"You need not rise for me." He said to her softly, still not yet stepping foot into the chamber. Hal-Liurz only watched him, still fighting off sorrowful tremors. "If you would prefer privacy and time to mourn, simply say so and I shall leave you be. If not, I will gladly stay with you."

Again she only stared, eventually clearing her throat and nervously shifting on the floor. Her gaze flicked to her mother's body, causing more fresh tears to burn in her eyes. "I do not want to be alone..." The Count entered wordlessly and went to stand at Hal-Liurz's side. She sniffled and smoothed the bedcovers over her mother's form, still lacking the strength to rise. "I do not know what to do."

"You grieve. You mourn. There is nothing more for you to do." The Count replied tenderly, again using a gentleness she had not heard in years. "I know this pain. It was long ago now but it is an ache that still lingers...but the intensity will pass with time. It feels impossible now, I understand, yet know that this is the natural order of things. Parents do not want to outlive their children." She was surprised by the hand that he placed upon her shoulder, further surprised as he crouched down beside her. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from sobbing anew. "You were dearly loved by her, Hal-Liurz. She went up against all to ensure the best for her daughter...she put me in my place many a times, as we both well know." He offered a small fanged smile and Hal-Liurz did her best to meet the still unnerving red gaze. "She was an exemplary mother and woman."

Hal-Liurz tentatively placed her hand over his and nodded. "Thank you, my Lord. She is...was...t-the greatest mother. I am lost without her. I-I am nothing." She again smoothed the blankets and began to tremble. "What will I do now, Sir? Where do I go? I know nothing. How is this done? How is any of this done?"

"I will arrange all, do not burden yourself. This is not a child's work. I need only your guidance."

Hal-Liurz sniffled and rubbed her eyes. "Guidance?"

"Yes." The Count carefully stood, reaching out and aiding her to do the same. On wobbly legs, she righted herself and straightened her skirts as the Count spoke. "I am afraid I remember little of you and your mother's private affairs. I do know that Jeene hailed directly from Blackmarsh. Is there any family there or perhaps a preferred location you would like her to rest?"

The young Argonian shook her head solemnly. "She hated her life in Blackmarsh. And n-no family. It was just us..." The Count only nodded, his gaze set upon the form of Hal-Liurz's mother with a prominent frown. Hal-Liurz swallowed hard, she was not sure how to feel about the Count's expression. The man looked more troubled than sad, as though he was staring hard at a difficult puzzle and this further worried her. Try as she might, she could not stifle the terrible unease that settled in her alongside her sorrow. All was uncertain and everything she knew was soon to change. She held back more tears as she eyed the man before her. He had always been intimidating and strong but vampirism worsened it. She once did all that she could just to be around him. Now, over the last three years, she had done everything just to keep away. Her mother had insisted on the distance. Now she was gone and all was grim "H-how did you know she passed? I told no one."

The Count straightened a bit, returning his focus back to Hal-Liurz. "I felt it in the night...I apologize if this frightens you." The Count looked away, this time very briefly. When he again spoke his voice was tired and pained. "I thought it right to give you the chance to mourn in private before disturbing you. Time must be appropriately balanced during such trials." Hal-Liurz only nodded and muttered in thanks. She knew the Count spoke from experience. Despite his disease and the constant presence and state of Countess Rona's unlife, he had effectively kept his head on his shoulders. The man was not a feral beast lurking in a cave, as was the nature of those afflicted. "When you are ready, we will have her brought to the chapel. She will reside is Skingrad, if that is what you wish."

The young Argonian only stared at the body of her mother, still feeling greatly empty and very confused. "What will become of me, my Lord?" She asked quietly, her vision soon distorting from more tears. The Count only watched her curiously. "I-I have no one now. There is nothing for me anywhere. What Imperial would want an Argonian in their household? I-I am not smart like my mother. I am so useless. Where do I go?"

The Count's hand returned to her shoulder, his tone and expression compassionate. "Do not worry. You will stay with me for as long as you wish. No one is running you out of my Castle. Now come," The Count turned and offered the Argonian his arm, she took it nervously. "Your mother would not appreciate my letting you linger alone in your sorrow. Nor would she want you to remember her in this state." The Count lead the way out of the chamber, gently coaxing Hal-Liurz to follow. She glanced over her shoulder, watching as the Count slowly closed the door to her mother's room with his free hand. He caught her watching him. "It will be alright, Hal-Lurz." The Count tried to soothe, leading the way down the hall. The young Argonian nodded and followed mutely, feeling all too much and nothing at all simultaneously. Her mother would have been so displeased if she knew of their current closeness. Hal-Liurz again looked up at the Count's face as he spoke, his voice so sincere. "I will take care of you."

It was frightening, daunting and comforting to hear. Hal-Liurz would serve her vampiric Count all on her own. So long as she was allowed, she would stay.

xxxx

It was still so very early in the morning but I enjoyed the pale light of impending dawn all the same. I watched as the assassin secured all of our supplies onto his large black mare. The horse, Shadowmere, showed her excitement to see him with much enthusiasm. It was almost startling to see the animal's joy to his presence. He treated her well, adjusting the saddle and packs tenderly, speaking to her all the while as though she understood. I still found the animal and him intimidating, so when they approached, I involuntarily stiffened but did my best to hide the action.

Lachance held the mare by the reigns and lead her to me. I attempted to seem unafraid as the horse nickered loudly in my direction. Again wearing normal clothes and a new gray cloak, Lucien Lachance did not look like an assassin. He appeared to be an average commoner. "I know, I know, and I wholeheartedly agree." He said to her softly, running a hand along her side. "They say beauty is pain...unfortunatley, the saying never specified to whom the pain belonged to." He flashed me a grin full of pearly-white teeth. I folded my arms beneath my cloak and ignored the look. "She still likes you, which is a rare thing indeed. You should feel special. It is not often Shadowmere allows another to ride her, nor is she in the habit of forgiveness. However, she expects you to mind your manners this time. Vomiting on one's back is impolite. I should not need to tell you that."

I scoffed, arms still crossed but more as a means to keep me warm rather than a display of defiance. This morning with the assassin had already exhausted me and I was already out of patience. "Why does she like me if I am so burdensome?" I challenged while still minding my tone's sharpness. I would not be obstinate but nor would I be appeasing to him, either. I strove for middle ground, speaking only to stave his deviant looks.

Lachance shrugged, making some final adjustments to our packs. "Nonsense about her Master being deserving of something nice to look at. I'm afraid she did not go into greater detail. How very odd, Shadowmere is usually the jealous type yet here she finds our pairing acceptable." Satisfied with the arrangements he had made, Lachance then offered his hand to me, a smarmy smile dominating his features. "I'm certain she has her reasons."

"I am sure," I said with indifference, allowing him to take my hand. I was pleased to be soon away from the Imperial City. Although beautiful, the capital was loud and unruly. Even in small doses, I could only take so much. City life was not for me. I had learned that the hard way many years ago.

"Any chance I could get you to ride behind me this time? Willing to hold me close?" He questioned in a purr, pulling me nearer. I said nothing, looking away from him and toward the stables. "...I'll take that as a no. Fine. I shall permit your stubbornness. Let it never be said that I did not accommodate you. Let us be off." The madman again 'aided' me in mounting his horse. At first, I allowed it, doing my best to ignore his lingering touch. After the horrid morning I had with him the little caress was easily disregarded. However, once I had settled myself on the saddle and his hand remained, steadily venturing further up my inner thigh, I overlooked him no longer.

"When you're quite finished." I snapped, shifting my leg away from him. "Must you act on your impulses? Do you think of nothing else?"

The assassin put his hands up in mock surrender. "Impulses? My dear lady, I'll have you know that I was merely appreciating the material of your pants. They are so very soft." I only glared, watching as he retrieved a pair of leather gauntlets from his pockets. He made a show of putting them on while whistling a brief tune. He eventually mounted the horse and situated himself behind me. Unfortunately, that did not signal the end of his nonsense. He continued as soon as he was comfortable. "And I'll have you know that I am a master of my impulses. I'm rather hurt that you think otherwise. I thought my actions have been very tame, thus far." He steered Shadowmere away from the stables. I anxiously clung to the seat as I wondered how long it would take us to reach Cheydinhal, doing my best to ignore the madman. "Try to show a little appreciation, Abigale. Shepherding you is not so easy on a man. Furthermore, if I did act on my desires, we would still be back at the inn and I would be wearing your legs around my neck as proudly as you wear that amulet."

I blushed and glared off at the lake, feeling slightly sick and jittery at the imagery. "C-could you please not be so descriptive? Keep your 'desires' to yourself...please." I swallowed hard, trying desperately to shake the vision but it stuck in my mind like tar. "If I am to speak with you can it be of other things? Must the context of our conversations always be sexual in nature? I-it is not right. You must have other thoughts. I would be more accepting of you if you could be decent to me. This nonsensical carnal tension you speak of grants you no favors. It lessens you...Y-you mentioned traveling to Skyrim. Do you often travel? Have you seen other provinces?"

"Well now, you do babble when nervous. I certainly struck a nerve - good or bad, I cannot help but wonder." Lachance chuckled heartily. "That curiosity must be remedied. And your behavior falls into very distinct patterns, Little Countess. Very obvious patterns..." I did not like the poorly hidden implications of his words but I endeavored to be silent. Whatever behavioral patterns the assassin was picking up on, I was certain they were not good. I did not know how to conceal them, however, for I knew not what they were. It was impossible to view my behavior from another's perspective. I could only strive to veil my true self and hope to dissuade him. "But I'll bite - which also has two meanings - so yes, I have seen several provinces and yes I travel often. Not so often now but I do still tend to get around."

I nodded and shifted slightly against Lachance. It was impossible not to touch him. Part of me had become accustomed to it, almost building up a tolerance from the constant contact. It was an odd realization. "May I ask where you have gone?" I questioned politely, again trying to mind myself while keeping the conversation flowing. Of course, I would preferably not speak to the man but I knew it was the lesser of evils in my position. He would not be so rude if I amused him with talk.

"Skyrim, as you know. Also Highrock, Black Marsh and Elseweyr. All so very unique." The assassin had done much traveling in his time. I could not imagine going to so many places. "Skyrim is by far my favorite place to go. The other provinces do not even compare. Although Black Marsh holds a special place in my little heart as well. It is more of a sentimental feeling rather than a love for the land...the country is all muck and swamps and the bugs are maddening. Not the place to go for a honeymoon, if that is why you are inquiring about the other regions." Immediately, I soured. "Elseweyr is too bright, Highrock can tend to be no different than Cyrodiil and we just went over the bugs of Black Marsh...Hmm, your Count has Nord in him. I think he would appreciate Skyrim as well. Vacation there, Little Countess. Make love in a cold, dead land to a cold, dead man."

I glared off at nothing and open my mouth to retort but all my hateful remarks vanished quickly. Instead, I blinked. I was quickly astounded and intrigued regarding the bit of information that stood out most to me. I could not keep from hanging onto Lachance's words concerning the Count. "The Count has Nordic roots?" I inquired, looking over my shoulder to watch the madman nod. The revelation was fascinating and strange. "He does not look like a Nord...that is why he is so tall. I always wondered."

"It comes down from Ocelinna's line, evidently. She was considerably tall too, being half a Nord herself." Again I blinked. I chewed my lip and stared confusedly off at the waters as we continued over the bridge. "Quite the pretty Imperial name for a lady of Falkreath. She came to Cyrodiil to marry in Bruma. That fell through so Skingrad collected her instead. And so now you know the story Hassildor's height."

I made a little face, drawing several conclusions but not daring to voice them. "W-who is Ocelinna?" I ventured, feeling perhaps needlessly foolish.

He tutted loudly. "She was the mother of your Count, my dear. Did you and Hassildor ever speak or was your face pushed into pillows for the entirety of your servitude?"

I tried to ignore his grotesque words. I found myself newly embarrassed over my lack of knowledge towards the man I cared for. How and why did Lucien Lachance know of the Count's family? I had difficulty picturing a boy Count or his relatives. The Count was very strong and big, he was also a vampire; trying to imagine him once being small and helpless was impossible. He had once been a boy, a baby. I could not fathom him being helpless and clinging to a mother - Ocelinna, a new entity to me. It was almost as though the Count simply appeared on Nirn, great and powerful. But no, he had a family, still had a family. Only very recently did I discover that he still had a wife... I wondered if Lachance knew of the Countess too. I did not doubt it. "We spoke," I eventually answered lamely. "J-just not of those things."

"What did you speak about?" Came his quick and curious reply. "I hear tell that speech is challenging for you. Even I have moderate difficulties getting you to talk but I have my ways and more success than most, it seems. I can only imagine how your temperamental Count handles you opportunistic tongue and meekness. I am surprised he has not personally removed your vocal cords and brought them to his ear in a misguided attempt to hear your pretty voice." Again I flushed an angry scarlet, knowing all too well how the Count despised my silence and inaction.

'You do speak Cyrodiilic, correct?'

'You are delightful. You are just in need of a little motivation to help coax it out of you.'

'I earnestly wish to be your friend, Abigale Lynn.'

'I can make you happier if you would only let me.'

'I think myself a good man and master to you...You are ungrateful.'

'All you ever do is think! You try hard to figure out how to weasel your way around real action and responsibility.'

'Please speak to me…'

'Are we not adults? Can't we speak and act civilly?'

'Your passive behavior and lack of action makes things worse for us both.'

'You are absolutely infuriating. You do not talk. You do not speak!'

I stared off at nothing as my mind continued to roam. I wondered what the Count disliked more, my silence or when I defied his wishes. The thoughts made my chest ache, the pain was different to the longing that I continuously tried repress. Lachance moved behind me, causing me to question myself. The madman chuckled, his random humor made me glance at him in confusion. "I personally think he would be very jealous if he knew how much you talk to me." I sighed irritably. I did speak easily to the assassin but it was done partly to keep him from watching me and partly because the man did not stop from getting under my skin. Talking was my only defense against him. "I think he would be cross with you if he was to find out."

"I doubt it," I answered quickly, secretly grateful for the distraction. "I agree that he would be cross but his anger would not be set upon me. I would be worried if I were you. The Count angers easily." I did not know why but as the words left me I felt strangely prideful. My expression twisted and turned haughty. However, I quickly corrected it, thankful that the assassin could not see my face.

"So I've heard. But I do regret to inform you that I harbor no fear of your Hassildor, Little Countess." Lachance proudly stated, his voice especially smug. "I cannot express this enough to you. At best, the Count is a mild irritant. The man is not a creature to stress over, he is an oversized child. Hardly terrifying."

As the little declaration left the assassin any and all arrogance I felt moments ago vanished quickly. In the place of my misguided pride, I felt small and feeble. The Count was terrifying. "You should not underestimate him," I warned. When angered, the Count's eyes seemed to change, whether or not the look was from my own imagination or an actual physical twist from vampirism, I did not know. They darkened, focused and warned of pain. His hands easily held me in place, leaving me defeated and afraid. I was powerless against him always and he was not against reminding me of this...nor was he against reminding me of his ownership over myself. He brandished his claim often, fangs at the ready, should I wish to defy him. "He frightens me," I muttered softly to myself, feeling loss from my painful recollections.

The Count was a good man. I had seen this goodness. I had known this goodness. Did the bad outweigh the good? I did not think so. Still, there was a substantial amount of sorrow between us now. I left because of this sadness and fear. If I thought too greatly on the Count's treatment of me over the last few weeks, my stomach knotted over the thought of return...but I missed him. I missed him so.

We finished our trek over the bridge and began traversing through the little town of Weye. The morning had the streets empty and still. A small fog drifted off the water and over the road, making the gray morning darker. I found the wispy distortion symbolic. "If he ever hurts you, I will kill him," Lachance said suddenly, his hushed voice cutting through the peace of the town, loud only to me. I froze from his random assertion. "A lovely blessed creature, such as yourself, should not be in bondage - held against her wishes by the cold clutches of the undead. It bothers me greatly." I peeked over my shoulder at the assassin but he would not look at me. He stared intently at the road, maneuvering Shadowmere over the poorly visible terrain. "I have slain hundreds of his kind. One more would be easily dispatched."

"Even in my fear, I care for him greatly," I said firmly, finally gaining the assassin's attention. "I do not want to speak of him being hurt."

He quirked his brow but otherwise remained expressionless. "That is the beauty of my career, Abigale. We will not speak of it once the deed is done." He leaned in close and I turned away slightly. The movement caused his mouth to brush against the shell of my ear for the briefest moment. The touch was not lewd, it was purely accidental but his mouth lingered there, now by my temple. His warm breath running across my cheek caused my skin to prickle. The feeling was not terrible. "It only takes a little fire."

I turned from him sharply, scowling in thought. "I will not speak of him being hurt. I refuse to."

"Fine. Delicate ears." Lachance muttered, steering us to the right as we approached a fork in the road. "I have slain thousands of 'undead'. Fire, silver and sunshine are the best ingredients to the great recipe for their long overdue demise." I shook my head and stared off at the shoreline, trying to enjoy the gray sky. I would not dwell on his idle threats. It was nonsense.

"So you say." I sighed, effectively muting my depressive thoughts. It was going to be a long ride and the impending treck made my still sore muscles ache greatly. Deciding to entertain myself slightly, I smiled at Lachance's words and the small error he made in his declaration. The madman was not the only one who could entertain himself at another's expense. "...You mentioned to have slain thousands, correct? A moment ago it was only hundreds..."

"I was being humble." He answered quickly, although I could hear the knowing smile in his voice. "Do you doubt me, my dear? What reason do I have to lie?"

At this I could not help but to shake my head at him. For once, I found his false sincerity a bit amusing. If nothing else, he could keep me from obsessing over my sorrows and longing. I could try to find humor in the madman. "What reason do you have to tell the truth?"

"Touché"

XXXX

The Count twirled the stem of his silver goblet between his fingers, watching the red liquid swirl. The blood winked at him once the light from the fireplace hit the goblet just right. Even though thoroughly warmed and from a human race, the blood left much to be desired. He frowned as he continued to watch the liquid whirl gently. The coppery taste had hints of sweetness but was overbearing with its greatly robust undertone. Janus' tastes dearly missed his Abigale Lynn. Her blood was well-balanced and thick. It was richly sweet and strong, deep and intense. He could taste her beautiful essence in a single drop. The color of her lifeblood was deeper than rubies, garnets, and even the bloodiest rose...it was rose gold. Perhaps not in color, of course, but it was worth all of his gold and then some.

Janus downed the remains of his goblet, the taste almost shocking and repulsive as he thought so strongly of his Abigale Lynn. Once empty he slammed the chalice down on the table before him and scowled. He grew angry over the lingering flavors in his mouth. His love had promised her blood to him whenever he desired it. She had said he could drink from her whenever he wished. He was always welcomed to it, she vowed. Abigale Lynn had sworn her consent and forced his compliance to her demands. Where was she then? She gave her word and he wanted it now.

Janus tapped his knee in irritation. He knew the thoughts and feelings were childish but he could not stifle his inner outrage. He eventually stood and paced about the room, trying his hardest to shake the ridiculous anger. He ran his hands through his hair, muttering incoherently to himself, trying to will away his strongly possessive aggression. His relentless marching soon brought him near a particular pillar of his bedchamber. The Count's face twitched as he eyed the stone, his movements halting for a moment. He sucked at his fangs, unsure when they exactly came forth and slowly made his way before the column.

He let his hand touch the pillar, his mind wandering guiltily. Janus could almost see her face, smell her skin and hair, feel her warmth and fear. The Count inched closer, frowning deeply. His eyes fell to the floor and he eyed the rug under his boots. Janus could remember all too well the events of that dreadful night. Her blood had broken his memory, at first. There had been gaps in his actions, he had done things he did not remember. Of course, they came back to him in the hours following the incident and the recollections shamed him greater than the bite itself.

The Count's fangs quickly receded of their own accord. His mouth went dry as he continued to stare at the carpet as though the fabric had a mind to swallow him whole. Janus wondered what Abigale Lynn remembered. Surely if she knew what he had almost done she would never have come to him again. She would fear him more than she already did, which seemed impossible. She would never return to him of her own free will, either. The Dark Brotherhood would have to drag her back to him. He felt shamelessly comforted over their vow of a swift return.

He swallowed hard, acknowledging his awfulness and leaned against the pillar. He was a monster. He did not deserve his beautiful Abigale Lynn but she was his and would remain so. Janus desperately wanted her back to him. He loved her so and when she returned he would endeavor to make her the happiest woman on Nirn. He did not care what it would take. Over time, her fear would fade...he just had to conquer his possessiveness. He would never let her go but he would give her the right to refuse him, whatever his wishes. Abigale Lynn was his but he was not wholly entitled to her body, person or her blood. All she gave him was a gift...he needed to remind himself of that.

Janus knew that he had become insanely possessive over the girl long before they had become intimate. It happened very fast, perhaps recklessly so. Soon after she settled into his home he became all too aware of her presence and actively sought her out just to watch her. Before they had begun to converse, he would observe her quietly. There was something about her that pulled his attention and he had to actively fight it. He had found her annoying but addictive. He had to stare, he had to look, he had to hear her speak to him. Each small progression of their friendship made him thirsty for more. Her companionship became a physical need. It still was. How he hated her being gone.

This lead Janus to scowl. Why was she so calm and pleased? What did the Brotherhood have to offer her in the way of comfort that he could not give to her better? Was it him? Did she hate him so much? The Count thought back to when he had marked her with a gentle kiss on the hand, the memory soothing him slightly. The feel of their deep connection had overjoyed him. His heightened sensitivity to her emotion made him so pleased. This new tranquil state disturbed him. Sometimes he felt something...a flicker. It was a strange sensation. He thought he had felt fear the previous evening but it did not last and was so very small. However, it was earlier in the morning, when he thought he felt something that caused him great anxiety.

It had occurred in the wee hours of dawn. The Count had been readying himself for bed when the oddest sensation struck him. It was so gentle, almost like a very soft breeze. His Abigale Lynn had been curious...dangerously curious and frightened all in one. The feeling would not have been worrisome had he not known his love's feelings so well. Janus had personally felt this emotion before on her several times during intimate situations. The quickening of her pulse stressed him further.

Thankfully, all had been fleeting and the calm had returned. Whatever it was had ended in little over a second in time. His Abigale Lynn could have been lost in a fantasy. He wondered if their distance had anything to do with the extreme dulling of their connection. Regardless, he was becoming greatly displeased and was seeking a solution.

xxxx

It was a little past noon when Lucien Lachance decided we were due for a break. I was grateful to be off his horse and offered no complaint as he again saw fit to assist me in dismounting. No sooner had my shoes hit the grass did I begin to stretch and massage my overly tense muscles. My body ached in places I wish it did not. Lachance watched me with amusement, leaning against a nearby tree. "We are lucky the day is warm. The further north we go, the colder it gets. I have no doubts that Cheydinhal still has a little blanket of snow."

I frowned and removed my cloak's hood. The sun had broken through the clouds some time ago. Feeling the warmth on my skin and hair was soothing. Hearing that I was to again soon lose the heat upset me. I glanced about at the budding foliage. "It is First Seed now, yes? Is there really snow there still?" Lachance nodded and picked up a fallen branch. He then procured a little knife from his boot and began to roughly chip away at the wood. I watched him nervously, still unable to remain unfazed when the assassin held anything remotely sharp. "I-I was looking forward to spring and warmth."

"Typical woman." He smirked, intensely focused on his carving. "Longing for pretty flowers and sunshine. Do not worry, snow or not, you are bound to see greenery. We won't be staying in Cheydinhal for long if I can help it." He held the now smooth wood up to the sky and examined it further. "I will do my best to bring you to all the pretty, bright places. You have spent far too much time in darkness, Little Countess. Frolic with me in the day?"

"Frolic?" I questioned, walking away from the assassin to a tree opposite him. I placed my hand against the bark, smiling slightly at the coarse textures. I peaked at Lachance to see if he was watching and was thankful to find that he was not. I slipped behind the tree and knelt down to touch long, green blades of grass, warmed by the sun. My smile turned into a grin. I missed the feeling of nature. I was again thankful to be away from cities and cold... "What does frolicking entail?" I asked from over my shoulder. Thankfully, the assassin was still preoccupied with his apparent whittling. I grabbed a sprig of lavender and brought it to my nose.

"Do you swim?" He inquired, sounding far too innocent.

"Maybe," I answered tentatively, sitting on my bottom and rolling the shoot between my fingers. I thought of the Count then and wondered if he liked the smell of lavender. I hoped he was resting well...

"Mysterious," The assassin teased, causing me to shake my head. I found Lucien Lachance much easier to speak to so long as I did not have to face him. Even on his mare, sitting with uncomfortable closeness, words were easier if I focused on the road. Thankfully, he had not been vulgar since this morning when I had begged him not to be. I knew his decency would not last long, however. If there was too long of a lull in our conversations, I would feel his eyes begin to roam me. Occasionally, his hands too.

Not wanting to give him any reason to think of me as 'mysterious' or tempt him into being lewd, I replied swiftly. "I swim."

"I thought you might. If we travel further south, I'll toss you into the Niben." I scoffed, again shaking my head. I brought my knees to my chest and stared up at the gently swaying branches above me. The sun and the breeze were soothing, the slowly moving limbs of the tree were hypnotic.

"I cannot feign surprise. May I ask why, though?"

"Nope." The assassin said, suddenly right beside me. I startled, flinching away from him and placed a hand over my own mouth to keep from shrieking. Fortunately, I kept myself from fleeing or otherwise making a fool of myself. The madman looked far too pleased and snickered quietly as he settled on the ground beside me. He took my hand from my mouth, still grinning. "Little Countess, do not cover your mouth for the assassin. It makes the job easier and takes away a bit of the fun, if I am honest." I only glared. "There is no need to be so cross. You made it too easy for me. How could I not frighten you?"

"Self-restraint?" I deadpanned, causing him to again chuckle.

"I do love your glares. You are quite the vision, my dear. The strength I have against my natural compulsions can only stretch so far. I make a living off of untimely surprises. This was a desire that I could not simply pacify." His smile stayed as he tilted his head to the side and examined me, his dark eyes ever mischievous. "Do you know that you play like a child when you think no one is watching?" I turned away from him, feeling slightly embarrassed knowing he had been observing me. I swallowed hard, still angry and jittery from being so frightened and refused to turn back to him. "I have something for you," He said, inching closer. I was not interested. The madman tutted and placed a hand atop my head to coax me into facing him. I grudgingly complied. "So stubborn and feisty." He chided, wearing a roguish grin.

Lucien Lachance leaned in close and took my arm in his hand, black irises still devious. He gave the crook of my elbow a kiss, causing my brows to knit. He kissed me again and again, slowly traveling up my sleeve only to stop before my wrist. I was thankful that he honored our promise and did not touch my exposed skin. Still, I could feel his breath and the scratch of his stubble through my sleeve, all left me curious. He fixed me with a sly look, which caused me to frown. He wrapped his fingers around my fist and pried it open. He was very close again, I realized. I kept my gaze locked onto his, unsure of his motives and off-put by our proximity. "It is a wedding present." He said softly, placing something both rough and oddly smooth into my open palm.

He quickly stood and walked away. For a moment I watched his back and listened to his whistling. When I eventually looked down I gasped loudly and dropped the deadly looking stake Lachance had gifted me.

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Dun Dunn DUNNN... XD Awkwardness is awkward! I keep forgetting to write important stuff down here. Hmm~ R&R if it pleases ya!