Author's Notes: The amount of feedback for the last chapter was insane! Thank you all so much for letting me know your thoughts! I love your opinions and how everyone has a different take. It's pretty awesome for me to read! Especially as the author, 'cause I know what's going down~XD! I'll get rid of the terrible-awful-terrible grammar mistakes when I give this a reread. (Ever notice how most errors are more toward the bottom? I run out of 'let me give this a quick look' time) XD
Love or Blood
Chapter Fifty-three: Fort Farragut
xxxx
As expected, the journey was especially long and tedious. Lucien Lachance had stopped us many times, claiming that rest was required. Due to the constant pauses, it was now nearing dusk. Once we had finally made it to the Blue Road he stopped us again, thankfully promising to keep the break brief. With deft and fluid movements, he dismounted Shadowmere. The assassin stayed utterly quiet as he unclasped the little fastener to his gray cloak. I watched him peculiarly as he reached up to drape the cloth over my shoulders. I assisted in righting the cloak, grateful for more warmth. Lachance rummaged through one of his packs, eventually procuring his black robes. The madman fixed me with a knowing little smile before donning them. I had to look away, I disliked the frightening black shroud greatly.
He had kept his word and no sooner had he dressed were we back on the road. I remained incredibly stiff in the saddle, loathing the sinister robes and the perverse man now turned back into a frightening killer once more. I tried to block out the existence of the assassin behind me and was thankfully distracted as a droplet of water struck my nose, followed by another. A light showering of rain had begun to fall.
We traveled further along the path for a time in now incredibly tense silence, only broken by the madman himself. "Are you still very angry with me, Little Countess?" Lachance purred by my ear, causing me to scowl. "I thought you of all people would have appreciated a tool for your defense."
"I do not think a stake has any particular power against you." I seethed, leaning forward to be away from his body. After the madman had gifted me a stake I had been livid. I had kicked the offensive thing into the woods and remained by Shadowmere for the duration of our rest. Lachance had been so pleased with himself over the tool and my 'silent rage', as he had kindly put it. "I thought your 'Family' appreciated the Count. Your behavior is treacherous."
Lucien Lachance chuckled cruelly before speaking. "Oh, silly Abigale. Yes, he is thoroughly appreciated by my Family. Our ties with Hassildor are dear. However, I covet what he has...I would like it for myself." I glared off at the misting sky, repulsed by the man behind me. The assassin was indeed mad, his already frightening behavior was made worse from his misguided jealousy. Lachance again chuckled before abruptly steering us off of the cobblestone road and into some dense woods. With Cheydinhal so close in the distance, I knew not what caused this detour. I stiffened as he stopped his mare, my eyes darting about the shadowed wood. All was eerily still, aside from the gentle pattering of rain.
"Envy is unbecoming." I forced, flinching as my hood was slowly pulled back. I swallowed hard as Lachance gathered my hair. I was distrusting of the man in every way possible and I did not appreciate this silence. I glanced over my shoulder, hoping to break the quiet and encourage Lachance to speak. His eyes met mine and I was further discontented by his smile.
"Don't tell Nerah that." He murmured quietly, fishing in his pocket. The assassin then reached further into his robes and pulled out a long, black sash. For a moment he eyed the cloth in hand before turning his attention back to me, a very prominent and malicious gleam about his blackened gaze. The shadow of his hood made him all the more wicked. His chest swelled, his smile grew. Lucien Lachance was excited over something and it was terrifying. "My dear lady, I am going to need to borrow your vision." I quickly shook my head at him, feeling pale. The madman pulled a false expression of regret. "But you cannot know where we are going. You must not see."
I stared hard at the now apparent blindfold, shaking my head once more. "I will close my eyes." I did not trust Lucien Lachance, I did not like Lucien Lachance. He was a sadistic killer. I could not handle the idea of having him remove one of my senses. Even if temporary, even if for an honest order, I could not agree to it. I needed all that I had to monitor his every move. I watched as it was his turn to shake his head, my stomach becoming uneasy. I bit back a small sound of nervous frustration.
"I am afraid I can give you no other options. Agree to this now or I must forgo my oath, Little Countess. There are rules of secrecy that even I must abide by." He stretched the cloth in his gloved hands, his stare roaming my face all the while. "Perhaps this will help you learn to trust me. Now, face away and close your lovely eyes." Without another word I did as told, my breath already ragged at my impending loss. I tried to stifle a shiver that ran up my spine as Lachance reached out before me but failed. He saw it easily. "All this fear over a little blindfold? Come now, am I truly so untrustworthy?"
I swallowed hard as I felt the cloth gently brush against my cheek, then secure over my eyelids. My hands shot up on instinct and grabbed his. Shadowmere shifted beneath us and I squeezed Lachance tighter, unable to stifle a fearful whimper. My perception was altered with startling quickness. I was floating in darkness. My fingers lingered on his gauntlets, eventually holding his wrists fearfully as he tied the coarse cloth. "B-be quick." I managed, trying desperately to gather my bearings.
"I would love to, my dear...but you must let go of me first." Being so disoriented, I found that I did not want to release the assassin. He kept me grounded and taking my hands from his seemed impossible and terrifying. He guided my grip to the saddle and pulled my back close to his chest. I had never had a fear of heights, darkness or small spaces. I feared people and talking to them, hateful stares and roaming hands. This felt tantamount to all those fears rolled into one and I was unsure why. Lachance could not hurt me and at present, I leaned into the assassin for support. Still, him robbing me of one of my senses left me feeling crippled. I tried to calm myself with the knowledge that this would not last.
Lachance pulled my hood back over my head. Shadowmere moved in what felt like a circle before setting off in an unknown direction. He led her casually and she trotted at her usual pace, slow but purposeful. I wanted him to slow her down and speed her up all at once.
I eventually heard more water, like a pond, the sound a slow and steady trickle as rain pelted the pool's surface. It faded and we were again plunged into the quiet of the woods. The only sound to be heard was Shadomere's hoofs crunching over fallen brush and snow, and the slowly strengthening shower overhead. Soon we came to an incline and I found myself clasping the saddle until my fingers hurt, my grip slipping from a mix of water and the sweating of my palms. More quiet, more terrain, more movement. Then finally, after what felt like so long, blessed stillness.
I reached up fast to lift the blindfold only to have Lucien Lachance quickly stop the action. "That will not come off until I remove it." He stated firmly. "Be patient. We have arrived." I nodded feebly, feeling the assassin dismount and listening as he walked closer to me. "Hands." He ordered and I tentatively complied, prying my fingers from the saddle. He took them both and placed them on him. My fingers traveled his robes mindlessly, trying to absorb what I held, eventually recognizing shoulders. One of the assassin's hands had settled under my thigh as he aided in turning me. I jumped but otherwise stayed quiet. Letting Lachance maneuver my body was difficult. I chewed my lip to keep from voicing my displeasure and tried to comply.
Soon his hands settled on my hips and I slid from his horse, again shocked as my feet hit the cold, wet ground. I clung to him to keep from slipping, the slightest dip in the land a potential hazard. "Please remove it now?" I whined in question, unnerved by all my unknown surroundings.
"Not yet," He said softly, his voice low yet loud to me. Lucien Lachance's gloved hand touched my cheek, causing me to flinch. He brushed some stray hair aside. The other hand soon came up to grasp my chin and tilt my face to his voice. "Hmm, I must admit I quite like this. I miss your gaze, true, but this helpless clinging is rather enjoyable." I chewed my lip and turned away. His gauntlet slipped from my cheek to my neck, eventually resting on my shoulder. "Perhaps we will implement the blindfold again for a different purpose." He brought me closer to him and began to walk me through the woods. "No retort? How disappointing. You are growing quiet..."
With great effort, I repressed another tremor and forced myself to respond. "Focusing." I risked letting one hand fall from him to clutch the amulet I wore. I held it perhaps too tightly, taking comfort in his oath. My shoes hit something firm and the assassin wordlessly forced me to stand fully on the new terrain. He released me then and stepped away, leaving me to stumble alone. My fingers brushed against coarse tree bark, the feeling familiar to me as I had earlier sat beneath one. I tried to lean against it, finding the dampened trunk to be an odd shape. The rain suddenly became deafening as I wondered where the assassin was. "C-can I...will you take it off of me now?"
My words were met with more silence. I gulped, fingers flexing, all too tempted to remove the blindfold myself...which was no doubt what he was hoping for. I tried to steel my nerves, knowing the madman was watching me closely. I attempted to sound brave. "Please take this off of me now. I am cold and wet. Please, I know this must be highly amusing to you but it is not for me." I received no response, it angered and frightened me. "W-will you make me beg you? I am not above it. You remember this, I am sure."
"I certainly do." Came the reply I was awaiting, mere inches from my face. I pressed my back further into the odd tree trunk, mentally cursing the man who delighted in my anxieties. I felt him draw in closer. Too close. "Tell me," He began, again crudely toying with the jeweled amulet. His gauntlets were horribly rough against my skin. "How badly do you want me to remove that blindfold?"
My jaw set in place and I tried to move away, soon finding that I was unable as one of his arms blocked my path. I could not run, I could not see. This angered me further. "Not badly enough to remove the amulet." I declared as boldly as possible, finding it oddly comforting to not have to look him in the eye as I spoke.
"I did not think you would. Perhaps I can convince you to amuse me in other ways?" I listened to the rain. To say I was not curious would have been a lie, for indeed I was. However, I dreaded his proposal equally. "I grow weary of not having a name. I am not your Sir or random Mister. You will refer to me no longer, I wish to be addressed." I sighed, knowing well what he wanted and ready to give it. Did I want to speak the assassin's name? No. I had to once and I hoped to never utter it again but my luck proved rotten. If giving the madman a little thrill removed my blindfold, I was willing to do it.
Once again, the assassin pulled down my hood. I was newly disoriented by the small droplets of rain that struck my face. "How shall I address you?" I dared to ask before gifting him what he wanted.
"Just my name, Little Countess. I want to hear my name on your pretty lips again." I took a deep breath, already expecting and accepting his nonsense. Having admitted to him my reluctance for address him properly this morning, I had sealed my own fate. I supposed I was lucky, a name was just a name. It meant nothing. It did not physically hurt.
Again, I listened to the rain. "Lucien Lachance." Hands went around to the back of my head, working gently, slowly tugging the blindfold's knot loose. I blinked as the world came back to me. The space I stood in was cramped and strange, an encasing of wood, crowded by myself and the assassin. It was the trunk of a large tree, hollowed out and now inhabited. I stared up at the dark sky above me, made visible as the tree's top was no more. Rain slid down my cheeks as I took the unusual place in. My gaze soon fell back to Lachance, who was watching me with great intensity. I faltered at his stare and the large black irises that remained unmoving and set on my person.
There was a strange air about Lachance. He kept his body close despite having already removed the sash. I was steadily becoming immune to his assertive nature. The man cared not for my comforts and only strove to please himself at my expense. His incredible knack for unsolicited implications kept me wary of speaking his name, despite having said it once before. Still, the look in his eyes made me question the words that left my mouth. His gaze was incredibly heated, nearly riled, easily piercing through the shadow of his hood. I thought of when the Count hungered before drinking from me as Lachance's stare closely resembled the look, only paired with a little smirk.
It was difficult to tear my gaze from his but I managed to do so. I turned my head away, the madman undeterred and still leering. I was unsurprised but thoroughly agitated as Lachance cupped my face and forced my attention back to him. He nearly closed the gap between us, his hood shielding me from the rain. I despised being constantly touched and grabbed. I did not like his games, all left me so uncomfortable. My face began to burn at his deep stare. He seemed to be waiting for something but I did not know what. I wondered what he wanted this time, for he surely wanted. I swallowed hard. Feeling unsure and desperate, I tried his name again. "Lucien Lachance...?"
"Good. Though I heard you clearly the first time." His smile twisted but he did not step back. "Your blindfold was already off but do feel free to say my name as much as you like. I enjoy it." I nodded slightly, restricted in my movements because of our closeness. I felt slightly sheepish having so easily done as he wished without his command. "Are you ready to make the descent, my dear?" He inquired lowly, his voice as deep as his stare. His expression was ever devious but I did not understand his words.
"Descent?" I repeated nervously, trying to understand his possible implication.
"Yes, Little Countess." He grinned, his gloved fingers running down the side of my face. "I see your confusion. Descent does have two meanings, after all. Presently, I speak of it literally. However, for both, it is a long way down." He lingered for a moment, looking impossibly smug before stepping away. I then watched Lachance curiously as he gestured to our feet. I blinked and stared down bewilderedly at the hatch that was embedded into the base of the tree. "Home sweet home...Mind the roots."
XXXX
Nerah Vlando stretched as the Black Door swung inward, granting her access. She quickly stepped inside, watching the door with apparent apprehension that never left her. Since her early days with the Dark Brotherhood, the speaking door always bothered her greatly...
She sauntered through the Sanctuary, scratching at the Family's pet rat, Schemer in passing. The halls were oddly quiet considering the calamity she assumed would be ensuing. Nerah had envisioned her Speaker chasing poor Abigale Lynn down the corridors by now. She wondered how much 'progress' he had made with Hassildor's companion and the thought made her uneasy. Now being a vampire herself, she had a better understanding of the great possessiveness that came alongside the disease. She could also physically feel the Count's ownership of the girl and it was startlingly strong. Tampering with Abigale Lynn seemed severely foolish. Like taking a naked jog in the sunshine, she mused.
Her Speaker was either astonishingly brave or exceedingly unwise. Hassildor would eat whoever touched Abigale Lynn - Nerah knew that to be truth. She could feel it as truth, as easily as she felt her leather armor on her skin. Apparently, the Count was remarkably territorial...and powerful, and strong, and big, and handsome...
Yes, she believed the man to be a stupid git. He was undeniably sexist and narrow-minded but he had the height of a Nord, the body of a fighter, the looks of a God with dark hair to boot. Damn shame! She thought with a sigh. Nerah found the man greatly irritating and knew Hassildor would much rather pull her intestines out through her ears than sleep with her...but if Abigale Lynn ever decided to swap Masters for a night Nerah would give it a go. Then again, Abigale Lynn was rather attractive too...
"Sister?" Nerah jumped, turning to see her Dark Sister, Ocheeva observing her from a shadowed nook. "Are you alright, Nerah? Your fangs are brandished." The young Argonian came forward, eyeing the dark-haired Imperial curiously.
Nerah recovered quickly and poked one of her fangs with a gauntleted finger. "Huh, happens on its own, occasionally. I'm working on it. And yeah, fine. Peachy." With a concentrated effort, she retracted her fangs. The action was still difficult to master, akin to trying to move your hand after having the blood cut off for hours on end. She tried, failed, then eventually righted them in her mouth. "Vicente back yet?" She inquired, massaging her oddly tired jaw.
Ocheeva shook her head. "I am afraid not. I have been awaiting the arrival of someone. The others retired hours ago. You are the first to return to the Sanctuary." Nerah's probing of her own mouth instantly ceased, her ruby gaze narrowing. "I assumed our Speaker was with you. We have yet to hear from him. Perhaps he's having difficulties with the package?" Nerah swore, hands flying to her hips. Vicente would not be pleased if he knew she had run off ahead.
"They're not back yet? Speaker Lachance said he would be here before me! What in Oblivion is taking him so long?..." As her words hung in the silence of the Sanctuary, her unease slowly surmounted. Of course, Lucien Lachance would promise to meet her here. Of course, he would be nearly twenty-four hours late. Of course, he would make it so he would be alone with Abigale Lynn. "...Shit." Her stomach flipped. Vicente would be furious. If he decided to again kill her, which Nerah could not blame him for, she doubted she would wake this time. "Shit! Erm, Sithis!"
Nerah Vlando slapped a hand to her forehead and groaned. Ocheeva quirked her scaly brow. "I thought you all would have returned before dawn at the latest."
"Yeah, well, it seems our beloved Speaker had a change of plans." She swore again and began to pace the floor. "Let us hope they return before Vicente does! Oh, sweet Matron, he is going to kill me." Ocheeva grinned and placed her hands on Nerah's shoulders, effectively stopping her twitchy Sister. Nerah pouted and fixed her with a look. "I mean it, Ocheeva! Vicente trusted me to 'monitor' things. I just wanted to get back home. I was starving. I still am!"
"Vicente would not break the Tenets over a pretty girl." She chuckled, brushing some dirt from Nerah's pauldron. "Neither would Lucien. You are overreacting."
"Want a bet? I think they've all gone nuts over her! I can almost see why, though. I mean, it is a little eerie. She's pretty and all but there's something else to her...I don't know...But she does smell like chocolate and sex!" The Argonian's brows rose further, her expression twisting slightly. "Uh, sorry. I'm sure you'll see it all soon enough."
Ocheeva's expression fell back to a comforting smile. "True, both our Speaker and Executioner have spoken of her beauty. However, I am certain it is no more than that, Sister. Men lust the same as we do. She is owned so she is a challenge and you know our Speaker in that regard. As for Vicente, the girl is a slave to Count Hassildor, who our Brother has been a friend to for over four decades. I'm sure the Count simply tells of their bedroom habits and Vicente has grown a natural interest." Nerah made a little face, both unconvinced and disturbed. "Our ties with Skingrad are far too lucrative. Neither of them would compromise our friendship with him to sate a petty desire. Do you really think them so weak-willed?"
xxxx
"Yes," Lachance said again, much more firmly this time. "Now stop fidgeting. You found it in yourself to do it last night, did you not? Garner the courage again, Little Countess." I only turned from him, repeatedly scanning the large underground chamber I was in. All was made of ancient stone. The room was very large and every sound made a soft echo. Above me, dangling from the ceiling, were the roots from the hollowed tree, along with the ladder we used to enter the space. To my left was a deadly looking iron gate, effectively sealing off the room from the rest of the secretive citadel. A massive pillar stood in the very center of the space, entangled with the roots of the tree. It seemed to act as a divider. Behind the pillar was cold and dark and did not seem too lived in. The assassin favored and mainly inhabited the very front of the chamber.
Before me was the area Lucien Lachance primarily occupied. There was a small bookshelf, a chest of drawers, several cupboards and adequate lighting. From the walls hung dingy tapestries, looking nearly as old as the dilapidated ruins we stood in. One was seemingly innocent, the others I could no longer look at after identifying blood beneath a large woven black hand. Instead, I stared at the floor and the threadbare carpet that had been strewn out with little care. All did little to warm the area. On the contrary, the chamber was very literally cold, nearly freezing. Having already been wet from the rain, my body trembled terribly. I hugged myself, finally gaining the courage to respond to the madman. "Your bed is much smaller. It will not fit us both."
"Do not worry about the space - or lack thereof. We shall make do." The assassin worked his gloves from his fingers, the wet leather plopping loudly onto the rickety dresser he stood by. "I can always sleep on you again. Which, space or no, I fully intended on." He flashed me a grin. "Undress, my dear lady. Staying in damp clothing is very unwise."
I huffed but did as told. Pealing both cloaks from my body and eyeing my poor state of dress, I finally noticed how very wet I had become. "Where shall I put these?" I asked, holding out the now heavy cloth. Lucien Lachance eyed the floor, causing me to quickly shake my head. "Neither of these are mine. Is there not a proper place?"
"This is not Skingrad. If you find a place suitable, by all means, utilize it." I pouted and glanced about the room, eventually finding and settling on an unoccupied table. Upon further inspection, the small bit of furniture looked to be on the verge of crumbling. Regardless, I carefully laid out both cloaks, trying to appropriately place them to ensure they would dry evenly. The assassin watched me with interest. "How sweet of you to tend to my things with the same care you show to Hassildor's possessions. I am greatly moved."
"Do not be." I quipped, turning to rummage through my bag for something suitable to wear for bed. "I am only showing common decency to something that does not belong to me."
"As am I," Lachance said proudly. I glared at him from over my shoulder, his expression was sly and arrogant. "Have I not treated you well? I keep you tended. Do you think your Count would appreciate my handling of you, thus far?" My glare sharpened and I refocused my attention back to my things to keep from expressing my irritation. Yet as was the madman's way, he demanded a response and persisted in eliciting a reaction. I knew the more I disregarded him, the more aggressive he would be with his provoking ways. Still, I was in no mood to be further manipulated. The blindfold from earlier was enough. "Perhaps I am too lax. Do you enjoy his treatment better? Would a little bloodshed make you feel more at home?" My jaw set into place as I tried even harder to ignore his words. "No, you are right, we should not spill a drop from you. Such wastefulness is shameful. I am positive that the Count misses your blood terribly...Oh... He most certainly misses you as well, my dear. Do not fret over that. There is no question as to what he loves more, is there?"
I pushed my damp hair from my eyes and bit the inside if my cheek, my face growing hot. His implication was obvious and hurtful. Did the Count love my blood more than myself? I did not know, nor did I truly want to. The idea was painful and unfortunately, not very farfetched. Over time I had slowly come to realize that vampires did not think as mortals. I accepted this truth but never did it bother me as greatly as it should have. It was simply a fact that remained in the back of my mind. Then the Count attacked me and I was forced to live the truth. Everything had spiraled and the change was violent. I went from slave to friend, to food, to lover and back to slave again. Now he wanted marriage. All was confusing and painful. So painful..."No. No question over that at all." The madman continued and my vision began to swim from hateful tears. I did not want to respond to his provoking ways but I needed him to stop. "But I do have a small inquiry. Very trivial. It is so slight and minuscule but it tends to be common knowledge between the intended and you are both so very close, after all. So, I cannot help but to wonder...does your fiance know your favorite color?"
"Stop!" I seethed, rounding on the madman and stepping forward. Lachance looked intrigued and amused by my outburst. I knew the assassin wanted my fury, I knew he was entertained by my emotions but I could not stop. He angered me. He embarrassed me. He was shameless and infuriating. My cheeks continued to burn. "Why? What do you gain from tormenting me so? H-have you not made your point countless times since we started this venture?" I nearly pleaded, torn between sorrow and wrath. "The Count and I know nothing of each other! Are you not satisfied? What more do you want? Do you think to understand me better?" The madman stayed quiet and took a casual step forward, still seemingly delighted. I scanned him quickly and stood my ground, clutching the amulet I wore tightly. I was done with his foolishness. "Perhaps you already do - but not well enough it seems or you would know that I will not be whoring myself to you. I see through you like glass! I am nothing more than a game, another notch in your belt, a conquest. Fine! I care not how you view me. But I do regret to inform you, Lucien Lachance, that you will not be having me. You will never have me."
I turned from him, blinded in my fury and moved to go to my pack once more. My body was hot from anger and my ears were ringing loudly. He could retaliate but I could not bring myself to calm. I trembled, feeling strange, no doubt from my fit. Although my hearing was distorted by my own rage, I was still alerted to the sound of a soft 'ping' as I walked away. I tried to ignore it, thinking of how odd I felt and how awful I reacted. Again, I tried to repress my true feelings. I had to be brave. The assassin did not respect me and he had no reason to do so. However, he had sworn an oath and would not harm me. So long as I had the amulet, I could be brave. I did not need to allow myself to be treated so poorly by a man who did not rule me.
My hand drifted to my throat in search of the necklace, needing the comfort. I groped aimlessly for a moment or two before bringing both hands to my chest in a flurry of panic. The amulet was not there.
I spun to see the madman who had stealthily moved even nearer to me. A frightful and knowing smile was plastered on his face, his eyes shining brightly beneath his hood. He pointed to the floor, my gaze quickly following. My blood chilled and the hair at the back of my neck stood on end. Under the toe of his boot, winking so innocently was the little amulet. I froze, petrified as I watched him retrieve it. I did not know how it had fallen from me. My mind did not want to understand that it was no longer dangling from my neck. I did not know what to do.
Lachance held the amulet out in front of him, swaying it before me tauntingly. "Never say never, my dear lady." My heart raced as my gaze darted about the room. I did not know where I could go. The entirety of the chamber was closed off and I could not reach the rungs of the ladder without support, either. My stare returned to the assassin who had pooled the golden chain in his palm. He came forward, eyes searching me, head tilted back to stare me down. "You look as though you want to run...Don't run. There is nowhere for you to hide in here." He stated smoothly, wearing a grin that was impossibly wicked. "Be still and relax. This will be much easier on you if you accept me."
"Don't." Was all I thought to say, my voice frighteningly small. I watched Lucien Lachance unblinkingly, still unbelieving that I was utterly defenseless and alone with the madman. He took another step closer and I could not bring myself to move away, I was too shocked. Once he finally stood before me, I only stared, my body completely rigid.
"You are without shield or shackles now, my dear. Do you feel naked by it? Your fear is impossibly strong. Tangible." Lucien Lachance placed two fingers to the hollow of my throat, his expression both delighted and inquisitive as he felt my rapid pulse. "It festers inside of you... But is it all for me? If so, I am humbled. It is pleasing to know that I have yet to lose my touch in the art of terror. It is an ability that I am most proud of." He loomed over me, something I had thought I was beginning to be used to. Now, without my only protection, I was to have this great discomfort and fear return with awful severity. "You were so very brave moments ago. I enjoy your fire." He rolled the amulet between his fingers, his blackened gaze shining like the jewel he held. "Do you possess the capacity to speak out against me now?" There was a pause as he awaited my response. Eventually, I only shook my head, loathing myself for speaking at all. "How disappointing. Ah, well. It will make this all the more easy. Turn around."
My jaw trembled. I bit the inside of my cheek as I again shook my head at the assassin. I knew I could do nothing against him, however, I would not willfully obey. Having been so easily manipulated by the Count days before, I knew just how weak and small I was. Lucien Lachance was no vampire but he was strong and fast, I had learned this firsthand. Too much defiance could make all worse for me as it had with the Count, and it was this fear that kept me from actively fighting against the assassin... I would face him and I would hate him but I could do no more than that.
Lachance's brow quirked, smile gone. His head inclined slightly to the side as he observed my forced defiance. "No? Well, perhaps there is some fight in you yet." His hands went to my arms and held them firmly. I was then turned, forced to face away from him before he pulled my back to his chest. He brushed my hair to one shoulder and wrapped his arms around me tightly, sighing happily near my exposed neck as he held me. I sucked in my bottom lip, every slight move of his hands caused me to squirm involuntarily. For a time he only kept me in his arms, breathing into my skin and hair. When he again spoke, his voice was far too contented. "I grow restless at times, Little Countess. Your company has aided me to ease that burden. Perhaps in exchange, I could ease one of yours?" I stayed rigid, my hands forming into tight fists.
"You are my burden," I snapped, jerking away slightly on impulse. I kept my head turned as far from him as I could. When he began to chuckle softly, I glared off at the roots in the ceiling.
"You don't mean that. After all, I am your protector and escape. Ready to be liberated, my dear?" He laughed a little more before planting his lips on my neck. My mind spun back to the first kiss the Count and I shared. It started with the gentlest touch of his mouth to my neck and led to so much more. I burned, impossibly angry and confused as the assassin touched me now. Although Lachance did not kiss me, only lingering his mouth and cheek against my skin, I burned. The scratch from his facial hair and caress of his warm lips made me feel much more alongside my hate and it angered and embarrassed me further.
But Lucien Lachance gave another small sigh before carefully released me from his grip. Instead, his hands went to my chest, keeping me in place as he held the amulet's chain before my vision. My breath hitched at the sight, leaving me tempted to grab it. "This little chain is no more innocent than one made of iron. It is your choice to wear it. Try now, for a moment, to feel yourself without it." I swallowed hard, hanging on to his words, still stunned by my own confusion and the lack of violence. "Imagine that I am not here, no one is here. It is only you. Alone. There is no duty to suffer. No pain, no Masters, no shackles...Try." Again I gulped. Unable to do anything other than what the madman commanded, I did indeed try. I stared ahead at the gate I faced, trying to envision a life without rule. With the madman at my back, the simple imaginations were too difficult to process. I could not do it. I shook my head.
"I-I cannot."
"Do you think your chains keep you safe? No." The assassin continued, his chest pressed against my back as it had been so many times now. However, this felt different. I did not understand. His absence of harm was nearly equally as frightening as his threats. I wondered if this was a new torment. A deliberate pause and tease before actual pain. I did not doubt it. "The possibilities can be endless, Abigale."
Finally, I could take no more of this odd talk. A part of me wanted Lachance to start whatever atrocities were in his mind. Anything to get it over with. The prolonged torture was maddening. "W-why are you not yet hurting me?" I demanded as forcibly as I could. Had it been the Count who held me now, I would have easily caved and begged for his swiftness of action. However, this was not the Count, this was Lucien Lachance - a mortal man. Shrewd and perverted, dark and malicious, oddly clingy and positively mad...but I took comfort in these qualities as they displayed his mortality. That natural mortal weakness made me almost brave. Almost.
I risked peering over my shoulder at him and he fixed me with a sharpened stare. "Do you not know my motives? I thought you could see through me like glass?" I chewed my lip as I continued to watch him. Lachance was cunning, it was foolish of me to think him transparent. "I am hurting you now but you refuse to feel it. The path to freedom is a painful one, my dear. It is not easy. But I do not wish to cause you any more pain than necessary. If I did, it would be done."
I realized then as I stared into his endlessly black eyes, that I hadn't the foggiest clue what Lucien Lachance wanted from me. I had thought I knew but his current admission left me bewildered. I did not believe his words, of course, but his actions were deafening. I was defenseless, I knew he desired me, I knew he preferred my willingness but he was not above force. So as I stood against him, my fear strangely and unwisely began to subside. It was replaced by curiosity, an extreme desire to know. However, I was still very critical, to say the least. With small courage fueled by interest, I dared to question him again. "Why is my freedom important to you?"
The assassin's smirk returned but it did not reach his eyes this time. "I have my reasons." He said vaguely, the chain slowly slipping around my neck. "Simply indulge me and I will ensure your happiness, given time." As the gold touched my skin, I was thouroughly bewildered. As before in the alleyway, Lucien Lachance was letting me go unharmed. It seemed too good to be true.
"Y-you will not...you are not going to -?"
"Take advantage of you? No, Little Countess. Hmm, however..." The necklace fell from me for a brief moment. The assassin shifted behind me, one hand upon my shoulder, making a small contemplative sound. Before I could react or inquire, my backside was sharply struck, the random act causing me to yelp. I stared over my shoulder at him, appalled and bewildered. He grinned at me. "Bring back memories? That was wonderfully gratifying." The assassin approached again and on instinct, I shrank away slightly, covering myself. Lachance was undeterred, chuckling some as moved behind me. He began to fasten the amulet around my neck with disturbing gentleness. I held my hair away for him, feeling confused as he swore at and struggled with the damaged clasp. "It will hold but you must be careful with it. It may fall again."
"Thank you," I breathed, unsure why I deemed it necessary to do so.
"Your gratitude is demented. You should not thank me for not violating you, Little Countess." Lachance commented, causing me to feel very odd for the action. I was accustom to acknowledging and thanking others for kindness, even if the 'kindness' was not truly kind at all. The madman then stepped away and walked back to his little bed. He began to disrobe and I found myself watching his moves with renewed interest. "In light of our recent closeness and hopefully better understanding, perhaps I can simply ask you to get into bed rather than commanding it?"
I eyed him strangely. Although I did not trust Lucien Lachance, I decided to fight him no longer. I only nodded, finally retrieving another underdress to sleep in from my pack. I would change behind the pillar, then I would go to him without complaint.
XXXX
Janus rubbed his temples, eyes closed. He stood within the Chamber of Fate feeling terribly uncomfortable. He was alone with his catatonic wife once more. Knowing that her end was soon approaching should have made him feel sadness or anger but the Count felt nothing. His lack of emotions confused him. "I am trying to grieve for you," He continued, having been speaking to the Countess for several minutes now. Usually, the simple act of addressing his wife caused him great sorrow. Normally, he would feel guilty and mournful. He would miss her...but Janus no longer knew what he had once missed about her. "Yet I fear I have run out of grief. I do not know what is left for you within me. It has been half of a century, Rona. This all should have been addressed much sooner."
Again he was met with silence, his hands falling to his sides once more. The Count was still indifferent as he stared down peculiarly at his wife. He felt nothing, just a tad puzzled over his apathy. "Perhaps I am in denial. I do not doubt it. You have become a part of this Castle, imagining you gone from it is difficult...but soothing." He admitted with a small frown. "I apologize for my cowardice but I cannot take full blame for your current condition. I suppose we still have that in common - addressing our problems poorly. Now your presence only exacerbates my damnable disposition. It is time we put an end to this madness."
The Count sighed and passed a weary hand down his face. He had decided to visit his wife in the hopes of ushering along this 'morning' business. However, he remained immune and could not fathom why. The last time he entered this chamber was with his Abigale Lynn. "Days ago, I brought a young woman down here to you. Her name is Abigale Lynn. Rona... I love her, I love her so. It has ben so long since I felt this way. The painful truth, as much as I once cared for you, this feels different somehow. Strong and raw. Perhaps it is due to vampirism but I truthfully do not know." The Count trailed off in thought for a moment, thinking of the very strange passion he harbored for his Abigale Lynn. He could not find the right words to express his feelings for her. Janus lapsed into thought, his eyes soon falling upon his unmoving wife. He gave a mirthless laugh, finally feeling something akin to pity for himself and his once love, Rona. "I do not know why I am confiding in you. You cannot hear me. I apologize if you somehow can and this hurts you...Maybe in this we are even."
He walked closer to his wife, watching her with a curious gaze. Janus placed his hand upon hers and awaited pain. He stood motionless, absorbing the features of his Countess, memories both good and bad, playing out in his mind.
XXXX
The Count of Skingrad sat by his desk, work long forgotten. Rona stood by an opened window, bathed in the light of morning. Although early, the day proved to be exceedingly warm. Janus found he did not mind the heat so much as his wife dressed down a tad from her norm...
"I feel your eyes, Janus. Mind yourself." Rona suddenly chided playfully, her fingers combing through her long, brown hair. The Countess glanced over her shoulder at her husband, fixing him with a knowing glare. "You have duties to attend to, love."
The Count's grin was big and slightly sheepish. Rona seemed to sense his desires before he was able to express them. At times it was burdensome, as surprising his wife with anything proved to be difficult. Mostly, it was endearing. Being married to one another for nearly twenty years had gifted both with a great knowing of the other's disposition. Janus found the remarkable sense rather useful when his wife was in one of her moods. Her random bitterness turned him angry and then they fought like cats and dogs for days on end. Thankfully, though, now was not one of those days.
"My obligation is to Skingrad. Yet I find myself torn between two great loves. How can I best serve her when I am so distracted by my beautiful wife?" Janus said cheekily, watching as Rona arched her brow. His wife's lips pursed, she was unamused. Janus was unfazed by her seemingly lacking interest. She had yet to outright refuse him. So, feeling desperate and playful, the Count tried harder. "It is a tragic tale, my dear. May I have your assistance in easing this burden of longing?"
"You are ever corny..." Rona continued to stare, looking at him wth a mix of sympathy and cruel humor. Finally, she laughed, which did not discourage her husband in the least. The Countess shook her head and turned from him, her attention set back on the window. "No, Janus. You'll manage. Pry your eyes and focus." She picked up a comb and brought it through her hair, giving a little sigh as she did so. "I would swear your lust insatiable."
The Count of Skingrad watched his wife's reflection in the window's glass. Despite her tone, a little smile had formed on her lips. Rona's eyes landed on his form for the briefest moment before immediately looking away. Knowing she had been caught with a grin, she quickly turned her head, attempting to hide her smile in her hair. It was as good as any invitation and was all the encouragement Janus needed. "How inconspicuous," The Count stated proudly as he pushed out of his seat, casually making his way over to his wife. "You are truly a master of stealth. Do you teach? A few lessons would do well by me..."
He was before her quickly but Rona reacted with equal swiftness, brandishing her comb like a weapon, smile hidden behind her fee hand. "Away with you, barbarian!" She laughed, knowingly backing away towards their bed. "Your responsibilities are calling you! Go over there and leave me be!" Janus shook his head, ready and awaiting the opportune time to tackle his wife. "I shall beat you with my comb, Janus! Away!"
"It only adds to the excitement." He teased before he fell upon her.
They would stay in bed until noon, making love and talking, then complaining about the heat before making love again. It was wonderful. Their marriage was not perfect, nor was their relationship entirely 'healthy'. They often fought more than spoke and love making could take days to initiate. They knew of each other's hopes and dreams but neither cared to pretend to have an interest in their partner's desires. They attempted to be supportive but it ran no deeper than that. There was nothing in common between the two and it made simple conversing difficult. Much of their relationship was forced. Oddly enough, when both were in good spirits, the pair made decent friends...
During twenty years of marriage and through many ups and downs, the Count and Countess of Skingrad only had one mutual wish - a child.
XXXX
The Count slowly removed his hand from his wife and brought it to his cheek. He withdrew to see clean fingertips, no tears of blood. Janus shook his head and straightened his overcoat. He thought of the many conversations they would share about children. The idea seemed magical and it was the only dream they shared. They would speak of how to raise their dream child and the type of parents they would be. They would talk for hours and hours. Rona had sworn that being a mother would give her life fulfillment and completion. She had lied.
Janus turned to leave the room. He wondered what his wife had truly wanted all those years ago. They would speak so passionately about family, yet she abandoned both husband and her unborn within days. The Count could not understand. Decades before when first afflicted and afraid, he worried greatly for his small family, yet he knew to be strong for them. He had fought his instincts, he still did every day. Janus would do anything and everything in his power to protect his own. Even in his confusion, the Count knew the difference between right and wrong, and there was something greatly wrong with his wife for her to do what she had done. Never in his wildest dreams did he ever expect the mother of his child to turn on their unborn.
Janus turned to leave the room, stopping only to stand at the stairwell to watch his wife once more. He exhaled, feeling both anger and nothing. "I regret keeping you."
xxxx
I laid on my side facing the assassin, his grip preventing me from turning. I shifted in his embrace, highly uncomfortable in many different ways. Shortly after the amulet had fallen from me, I found myself in bed with Lucien. Of course, it was difficult and I had to force myself to be calm, as I was still very leery and distrusting. However, I felt something else too along with my lingering apprehension but could not put a name to the feeling. Regardless, his lack of violence still had me stunned and made me compliant. I moved without being told and without my usual impossibly high fears of him. It was foolish to lose even a little anxiety but I guiltily enjoyed being more at ease.
As I rested by Lachance he stared me down, brow furrowed and eyes curious. "Are you again planning on fighting sleep?" He eventually asked, sounding genuinely intrigued. Seeing no reason to lie, I gave a small nod. The assassin continued to watch me quietly for a moment as I mindlessly toyed with my hair. "Any particular reason why this time? I thought we were making progress."
"Progress towards what?" I dared ask, risking a quick glance up at him and regretting doing so. Lachance smiled, full lips pulling back revealing his very white teeth, his darkened stubble making the contrast of his smile greater. The one arm he had under his head propped him up some, his dark eyes peering down at me from the bridge of his nose.
"The suspicion...You are extraordinary." He said through his smile, the hand at my back moved upward to stroke my arm. I tried hard to ignore the feeling. "I mean that with the deepest sincerity. You possess such a curious gaze but I am the one who is truly perplexed here. I prove my honest intentions for you and yet I am still regarded with the utmost scrutiny. It wounds me so, Little Countess. Why such poorly hidden hostility?"
Earlier, Lucien spoke of my 'behavioral patterns' with obvious glee, unknowingly displaying a few patterns of his own. His desired topics of conversation only went so deep. He mostly wished to tease me cruelly or shamelessly express his sexual interest in myself. But there was something else now, something hidden. He spoke of my 'liberation' as though it was destiny. I wondered if he only wished for my freedom in the hopes that I would allow him to bed me. I could only hope it was something so simple. "You make foul threats continuously, they spill from your lips like water." I forced myself to meet his gaze, staring as evenly at him as I could. "You said once that I was right to be leery of you. I only follow your instruction."
The hand from behind his head went to scratch his chin in thought. I found myself watching the action intently, unsure why it had my attention so greatly. "Do you always do as you are told? How very boring of you." He commented, sounding uninterested. Lachance then reached down to fully embrace me. No sooner had his arms wrapped around my body was I pulled up and onto his chest. The movement caused my breath to hitch as I again forced my own compliance. My cheeks burned from our disturbing closeness and I wanted to move away but did not. I said nothing against him. "And I must threaten, Little Countess and wholly mean what I say. For if you were to force my hand I would make good on my threats."
"Your threats of rape?" I asked, minding the placement of my hand against his chest, purposely avoiding the steady beat beneath his skin. Lucien watched me with interest as I moved my hand across him, one brow rising, no doubt easily perceiving my avoidance.
"And harm in general, my dear." He said easily, as though commenting on the weather. His hand settling on mine, again sliding over his heart, pinning it there to irk me. "If you act against the Dark Brotherhood in any manner I will respond accordingly. So long as you are no threat to me or my family, you need not worry. It is as I said before, behave and all will be well."
"Obey and all will be well, you mean," I said while glaring up at the assassin, giving my hand a fruitless jerk. Lucien only chuckled in response.
"No, that is not what I mean. You need to learn to differentiate an order from a suggestion. Actions of importance may require a command. I wish to give you more freedoms, though I doubt it will be well received by you. You still need firm structure to function normally. Quite sad."
I listened to the sounds he produced as he made himself comfortable. A little grunt, the pop of a bone as he rolled his shoulder, his breathing so very loud... It was regrettably fascinating. I nearly felt guilty for my avid interest in his mortality. For a moment, I wondered if the Count viewed me as I viewed the assassin. The thoughts discomforted me. "I do not wish to push my luck," I said before nervously biting my lip, the words bringing me back to a more discomforting revelation. I was advised by many to not push my luck and I would continue to heed the words. Taking my 'fortune' for granted was unwise. "I did not expect you to care so, I still don't. But perhaps if the roles were reversed, you would better understand my trepidation."
Lucien nodded, his face contemplative. "You are right, I can only relate so much to you. I may have been in a similar position before...but I never had an impossibly handsome assassin deeply aching for my body as we traverse around Cyrodiil. In this, I am utterly clueless. Again, I can only relate so much." I scoffed and shook my head. "But you are resilient. Your fears can fade if you decide to grant them the opportunity to do so. Give it time, Little Countess."
"Your wish for my freedom increases my fears," I admitted, my tone laced with unbridled suspicion.
Lachance combed his fingers through my hair, smiling as it slipped gently from the spaces between them. "That is only because you have never known a person who has wanted your real happiness, Little Abigale."
His words were astonishingly corrupt. I could not keep the bitter humor from my tone or expression. I laughed cruelly and sat up slightly to shoot him a knowing glare. "And you do? I may be foolish but you must think me painfully slow to fall for that nonsense."
Lucien beamed, hand falling to my hip as his eyes roamed my face. I knew his excitement had little to do with my words and more with our closeness and my 'fire' - which was nothing more than my temper manifest from absent fear. I could effectively ignore our closeness, he, however, could not. "You are not slow or foolish, just fearful and stunted." He said coolly, fingers coming up to again entangle in my hair. "And believe what you will, as I have proven myself decent enough for one night... Leaves a bad taste in my mouth." He released me, stretched slightly as I regarded him curiously. Before I could speak again he placed a hand at the center of my back and forced me down upon him with a firm press. I could only sigh against him in irritation.
"I could use your hair as a blanket." He eventually continued, his hand in my hair once more.
"Speaking of hair," I dared to venture, pulling the blanket over his chest to form a small barrier between myself and the assassin. "May I have my ribbon back?"
"Never... Or tomorrow, I suppose."
XXXX
Hours passed before the assassin finally woke. It was no doubt dawn now and Lucien Lachance had no intentions of yet prying himself from the bed. It was warm and the girl was warmer still. In truth, his current state was remarkably comfortable, perhaps the most comfortable he had within fort Farragut for some time. The ruins proved cold and especially damp in the early spring. Unless he had a woman in his bed, he'd often opt for a room at the local inn. Abigale Lynn was an acceptable bedwarmer with the potential of becoming even greater company...
Yes, he was winning. The falling of her necklace had been a glorious stroke of luck. He utilized the accident to the best of his ability, attempting to lull her into a more secure state of mind and it had all worked wonderfully. Complaints were all but gone and she even seemed more vocal after the incident. It was remarkable. Rightfully, she was still highly skeptical and very wary of his hands. However, it seemed the girl's bravery had been coaxed into presenting itself more. Lucien found he quite liked it.
Pulling several long, red strands of hair from his mouth, unsure how they had even gotten there in the first place, Lachance moved beneath the girl slightly. She was strange...thanking him for not forcing himself on her left the murderer skeptical, to say the least. In his line of work, he was often begged, cursed and occasionally thanked - should the contract require mercy...but her thanking him was different. Disturbing. Although he knew much about the goings on in Castle Skingrad and the girl's origin, he believed Hassildor - when in his right mind - treated the girl like a princess. Her behavior was the complete opposite of what he had originally expected. He thought she would run from him, not stand defiantly and face whatever she assumed he would do. She did not fight, she did not struggle. This left the assassin confused and more curious.
Perhaps he was right in his earlier assumption, the girl responded positively to abuse. Yet he remembered their first encounter, she ran from him then. How much had occurred in such a brief amount of time to alter her body's natural reaction to flee? She was certainly afraid of him, her heart felt as though it was trying to break free of her chest. Why did she face him then? Lachance knew vampires far too well. He could only imagine what Hassildor would do to the girl when told him no.
Certain behavioral patterns have been learned. He thought, running a finger along the back of her hand. With that in mind, he would strive to make her unlearn them. She was right to be suspicious of him despite his 'good' gesture, for Lucien did selfishly want her liberation. He thought her distrust was an admirable quality. He wanted her body, of course, but there was more than that. Vicente took an oath to swiftly return Abigale Lynn. Lucien had sworn his protection. As such, encouraging a little rebellion was good for his vow. Lachance had never agreed with slavery anyway...
"Is it dawn?" The girl asked sleepily, causing Lachance to inwardly startle some. He looked down at the apparently awake girl. Her large, green eyes, still heavily lidded and slowly blinking. Lucien grinned, pushing some of her hair from her face, revealing cheeks still pink from her restful sleep. She continued to stare confusedly at him as he quietly absorbed her features.
"No idea." He easily lied, watching her struggle to wake with far too much amusement. "Go back to sleep."
"No thank you," She huffed, grumpily attempting to pushing herself from his embrace. "You were watching and touching me."
"Only slightly," Lucien admitted, resuming said touching with particular mirth. He was taking far too much pleasure in what little bits of her skin caressed his. "Sleep again, Little Countess. I was enjoying your embrace."
"No thank you," She repeated, again trying wiggling away. "Please, after what occurred yesterday, lying in bed together is highly unwise."
His grin broadened at her wording, his comment sly. "Or highly enjoyable if you would only open your mind." She shot him a dangerous look which caused him to laugh mischievously. He allowed her to escape him, pleased that she did not actually leave the bed but simply sat as far from him as she could. Which, given the size of his bed, was not very far. Not surprisingly, Lucien did not want the girl to leave his side. He too sat up and draped an arm over her shoulder, gleefully disturbing her more. "I'll have you know that I have not ever had to try this hard to get a woman. You are not easy, your point has been made."
Abigale Lynn turned to stare bewilderedly at him. Lucien only smirked, purposely looming over the girl. "It has been two days." She murmured in disbelief, shrinking slightly at his knowingly hungry look. "And I am not...I am sorry." She shrank further, speaking nervously, no doubt fearing his reaction over her refusal. "You...you have treated me well but..." Her eyes flicked nervously to him. He took a devious pleasure in her forced denial, knowing that it would not always be... "I-I belong to the Count of Skingrad. You know this."
"He is not here." The assassin continued, keeping his voice warm and sultry, lips by her ear - she seemed to blush especially dark whenever he placed his mouth anywhere near the side of her face or neck. The hand he had dangling by her chest took hold of the little amulet, twirling it tauntingly before her. "Nor does he need to know."
"No, Lucien," Abigale seethed, effectively wriggling away from the now chuckling assassin. She stood from the bed in a fury, gasping slightly as the cold stone of the fort touched her socked feet. Lucien continued to watch her, overjoyed by her blush and flustered reaction. She was a Dibellan - an awfully sexual being. His offerings intrigued her, whether or not she wanted to admit it to herself. Her will was strong for such a headily passionate creature, he could admit that. "W-will we go soon? Are we not far from Cheydinhal?"
"It is around," He answered vaguely, joining her in standing. "We can be there within an hour or so if you ready yourself quickly." She nodded to him, rubbing the cold from her arms. "We may see Vicente this evening. Up to it?" His eyes quickly scanned and absorbed her change in body language. She stiffened, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "There are several inns in town if you think him undeserving of your company." Lachance offered, effectively biting back his grin at the thought of his Brother's outrage should Abigale refuse to see him.
She considered his offer but shook her head at him all the same. "I greatly appreciate the choice..." She began uneasily, again casting nervous looks in Lucien's direction. "But I would like to follow you, should you have me." The girl chewed her lip, looking remarkably timid - a feat to achieve. Lachance's doubtful and curious expression encouraged her to explain further. "You are the only person who has been remotely truthful with me, perhaps grossly truthful. B-but I appreciate it. I know there is much I cannot know and plenty of things I do not wish to understand. Regardless, I appreciate the honesty you gift me, no matter how brutal or uncomfortable it is."
Lachance could only frown, inwardly thoroughly shocked and a tad confused. "For the sake of modesty, when have I been honest with you?"
"Your motives are plain. You and I both know what you want of me. It is a wrong want but it is as honest as it is raw." She straightened a tad, looking peeved. At what, he did not yet know. "And you keep your word, small or great. You promise to meet me, you meet me. You ask to 'court' me and I do feel disturbingly courted. You threaten repercussion and I know you would gladly act on that pledge. You even promised me a good meal and I was fed well." Still looking angry, she laughed a little in disbelief. "I feel duped and foolish. I could not even get fruit from a promise in Skingrad...And here you are... But you are you! I know you are a liar, I know you are a con-artist and killer...but I have not yet caught you." She shook her head, looking pained. "I should not confide in you but you already know my secrets. Everything I have told anyone, you somehow know. Let me cut out the middleman. I shall bore you now that the 'mystery' is gone but I think that is a good thing." Abigale Lynn nodded to him, annoyed and hurt by her own confession. "So that is how you are honest with me. Until I am presented with a lie, I have no proof against you."
"Well..." Lucien began, feeling odd that he had indeed kept his word. She was right, he had yet to actively lie to her. Were there secrets? By Sithis, yes. But those were not lies, they were secrets... "Glad that you are so very perceptive, Little Countess."
"Please do not mock me." She said fast, only faltering slightly at Lachance's skeptical brow. "I-I know there is plenty hidden that I have yet to recognize and I am certain that I do not want to know any of your secrets." She paused, chewing her lip and avoiding his gaze. "Please, keep them from me, if you can. The Brotherhood's business is not mine to know."
"You have my word that I shall endeavor to do just that."
XXXX
Janus was livid. It was again early morning and he was again readying himself for bed when he felt it. Curiosity. Curiosity and heat. It left him insanely inquisitive and mildly outraged. What on Nirn was she doing and why did it last less than a second in time?
It could be fantasy, he tried to rationalize as he paced about the room. Last night he had been dreadfully worried for his Abigale Lynn. She had been petrified, the feeling was so intense and familiar but it too fizzled out and slowly died, very naturally. Then the dreaded odd calm came and again took hold. Her emotion was distorted, he knew this now. He had been blocked.
The Count was ready to have this problem addressed and had already taken action via magical means to get a certain Dark Brotherhood member's attention... He was mystified as to why his influence had been stunted but he truthfully cared not for the reason, he simply wanted it rectified. However, whatever magic was causing the magical severance, happened to be damaged. He believed it to be a device, something worn. His Abigale Lynn may not have even realized that the magical trinket was on her person. If she did, Janus would be displeased. Regardless, something caused that magic to flicker, a shift or a movement and it was that flutter which allowed him to bleed through to her.
He felt much within the second they reconnected. It was an onslaught that momentarily caused him to almost feel ill. But it was the strongest of her emotions which happened to be the most troubling. What had her interest? Who had her interest? The Count sucked at his fangs. His Abigale Lynn was being pursued.
Author's Notes: Poor Abbeh! She doesn't know things, she only works with what she's got! The end quality of this chapter is especially terrible. My husband is getting jealous of 'Hassildork'. XD