Author's Notes: We hit 500 reviews! I'm stunned! To know that this story is still being shown love after such spread-out updates and major twists to the plot is insane! I thought I would have lost some readers once the focal point 'left' Skingrad, but it seems exactly the opposite. You are all my motivators - seriously! Without you guys, this story would just exist in my head. Thank you all so much for the continued support! I did my best to post this once I hit that big 500 XD Lots of rain where I live right now so I've been staying in :P Makes writing faster, which is nice! Thanks, downpours! Thanks, readers! Thanks, reviewers! 8D
Love or Blood
Chapter Sixty: Acceptance
XXXX
The Count of Skingrad walked the outer walls of his Castle, face stony and mind in an uproar. He was granted no sleep in the day, having been far too troubled. However, he was oddly comforted to feel that someone was just as troubled as he, perhaps more so... Abigale Lynn was an absolute mess. Guilt had firmly lodged itself within her, strong, loud, and near crippling. She was close to ruin. Her sorrow and confusion did worry the Count, as he cared for her very much in spite of all. Her fear had also returned and renewed. She was in complete emotional turmoil. Sorrow, lust, guilt, confusion, fear... Janus wondered if she would survive her own thoughts, as she tended to be overpowered by them.
As he wandered his county, admiring the spring, he himself felt a touch indifferent to all transpiring. Did he love Abigale Lynn and want her back? Certainly. Should she somehow appear among the blossoms he would go to embrace her without question. He had reached an odd equilibrium, almost akin to acceptance. Being that he drove the woman he longed to love away, he knew her current attachment to another was just. It was a taste of his own medicine. He loved Abigale Lynn and had loved Rona simultaneously. He betrayed his wife in his little love's embrace and he betrayed his love while still caring for and keeping his wife. It was adultery no matter which angle he observed from. Abigale Lynn and he were not formally betrothed, as he had ruined that with jarring swiftness, but he did betray her and his wife. Being faced with his own behavior was as humbling as it was bitter.
The Count slowly began to realize, via the echoes of his own words, how very forceful he had become. He expected things - it was that simple. With Rona, he expected her to wake daily and had awaited her for fifty years. He expected returned affection once he confessed his feelings to Abigale Lynn, and on the night they slept together, he preemptively locked the door... The Count would get as he desired and it had spoiled him rotten. Even Rona, she would wake for him in the end, this was a certainty.
Being a spoilt man had turned him into a very lonely vampire, which was something he did not wish to be. Accepting blame, his side in everything wrong with his life, was a new personal task. He would tread the line of guilt with caution, as he feared the possibility of it engulfing him. Enduring it and rising above was to be his charge. There was no more to do than that. And as he walked, mind adrift and thoughts scattered, he endeavored to block the feelings of his Abigale Lynn. He pitied her but in contrast to facing his blame, he could only do so very much at a time and did not want to analyze her desires more than needed. Realizing that he thrust her into another man's arms enraged him. He might as well have served her up to her pursuer naked on a silver platter...
His fangs again unleashed of their own accord, something that had become a continual occurrence since feeling his love being pleasured. It was infuriating, and to staunch the flow of white-hot anger, he tried to focus on other matters. Channeling his raw energy into something productive would be challenging but he hoped to try, all the same. Regardless, repeating 'I deserve this' was hardly satisfactory. Instead, he had again written to the High Chancellor. The Count was beginning the steps of raising his Abigale Lynn to a proper lady; gifting her a decent title as to make her transition to Countess flow smoother. And yes, she would be his Countess...
Vicente Valtieri had regrettably informed him that Abigale Lynn would most likely be delayed in her return. Apparently, progress towards the cure had been made, but it was only a very small step in an apparently elaborate quest. This displeased Janus greatly. He was no fool. The man who journeyed and quested for him was the man who currently had pulled his Abigale Lynn away. Why should he keep his promise of swift return? He wanted what belonged to the Count and as such aimed to keep his Abigale Lynn.
After much prying that lasted until the early hours of dawn, Janus eventually was able to garner more information from Vicente about the man who lusted for his love so. He was a man of power, which was horrifically problematic. Had he been a mere underling, he would have been easily dealt with. The elder vampire had informed him that the man - who was, apparently, a full-grown adult and not a child as his Abigale Lynn, who knew no better - had more than significant influence and reach. He was a member of the core governing body of the Dark Brotherhood, which left Janus all the more worried for his naive love. He was greatly helpless in retrieving Abigale Lynn and had to hope that she would return to him of her own volition. For now, it was up to the male, so her swift return was highly unlikely. It was bleak, grim...
Controlling his instincts and stopping himself from setting out to hunt and kill the male was astoundingly difficult. It was all he thought of doing. His anger for Abigale Lynn was surprisingly slim. He only wanted her back to him but now he wondered the type of woman she would return to him as.
Vicente and he had also spoken more about her presumed Dibellan roots. It was a shocking discovery which led both vampires to curiously poke about the Count's library for more information. The Count had many tomes on the Nine, as Rona was a very devout believer. Literature of Dibella was slim but thankfully, not non-existent in the Count's Castle. However, it was incredibly dusty. Ironically enough, Janus was not surprised by this in the least. What they did find was that Sybils of Dibella were... promiscuous. Purely sexual beings that were as incredibly beautiful as they were irresistible. They were to be taken at youth to Skyrim, regardless of their homeland, for protection and rites. There they were to be taught the Dibellan arts. Music, poetry, song and dance, the arts: sculpting and painting. But above all these things that they were taught and excelled in naturally, sex was their greatest of virtues. It was praised, worshiped and thought to be holy.
Janus steadily began to believe his Abigale Lynn to be 'a blessed one'. All seemed to fit. His love for Abigale Lynn exceeded her flesh but his desire for it was strong, proving unbearably so. The Count thought of his love's parentage and how she had run away. The connection was stunning. It all made sense and left the already very troubled Count to be further concerned and more than a touch ashamed. He, a vampire, had attacked and almost raped a Sybil of Dibella... he kept the last bit secret from her and proceeded to deflower her still. Janus was not a great believer or follower of the Nine, and he never thought he could have felt more disgusting for his actions and almost actions than he already did...but there it was.
A renegade Sybil was a dangerous thing to be, even around those who claimed their love toward her. Without proper instruction, Abigale Lynn was left to 'grow' all on her own and in poor circumstance. 'Men have never been nice to me' she had said, and what an understatement it was. Her earlier behavior had come back to Janus with all the force of a hurricane. When first in his Castle, Abigale Lynn eyed everyone as though they held daggers to her back. She smoothed her way around walls and people, aiming to remain out of sight. She feared any interaction and once 'comfortable', clung to her 'protectors' and hid in their shadows. Abigale Lynn looked to her superiors for support and shield. She did not venture out from underwing, and aimed to keep them pleased as to better guard herself...she had done the very same to him. All was for protection and entirely justifiable fears. She had been a poor and lonely Sybil, tossed into Nirn with no guide, no security and no true grasp of herself.
She had no doubt been tormented by many. Consequently, when the Count had confessed his love, it now made sense why she chose to play ignorant. Be utterly aloof. His Abigale Lynn had been deathly afraid. She saw men as most would see a rabid, diseased dog foaming at his maw...or a hungry vampire. He, foolishly, did not care to have her elaborate, he had only focused on his own heartache. Had he pried, tried, or simply gave her more time, all might have been different. Again, the spoilt Count had been expectant and when things fell short, he stomped his feet and produced results. Terrible results, of course, but results nonetheless.
It occurred to him now, as he walked the grounds outside of his Castle, that Abigale Lynn's affections had distinctive patterns. Once she had been comfortable with the Count, she existed for his pleasure. She would have jumped through flaming hoops to please him. She had been safe and that made her calm. Then Janus ruined all. He had fed on her and nearly ravaged her half-conscious self. She forgave him for the bite, as she believed it had nothing to do with him desiring her body. Had she known the truth, he feared what she would have done...Regardless, her present behaviors made clear, concise and miserable sense. When Janus had been violent in her bedchambers, she had panicked. It was that fear that she had known so well all her life, the terrible consequence of her blessed form. She had trusted him, with all his faults, violence, and hungers to not touch her in a lustful, hateful rage. He broke her trust. Now, she was latching herself to another who she deemed strong enough both mentally and physically, to protect her.
Janus did not think this response was conscious, it was more of a natural reaction for security. She needed someone to guard her beautiful and fragile self. The man that she was with now was in a position of power within the Dark Brotherhood for a reason. Abigale Lynn could easily see the benefit of someone so deadly. After all, the Count had proven inadequate. He bent to her magical wiles and his own foolish and heavily misguided anger. To his love, somewhere in the far back of her soul, she knew Janus to be too weak for her and too easily swayed by his own thoughts. He was nowhere near her ideal protector. She looked, unknowingly, for those with specific traits, as she required certain characteristics for better assurance. Regrettably, for Janus, the men and women forged through the Dark Brotherhood were strong, cold, and disciplined. They had to be in order to remain hidden, alive, and achieve greatness. Thus, her attraction and attachment to another man was born.
According to Vicente, the man was all that and so much more. He was a driven and ambitious individual who was known to be both charming and psychotic. But above all, the man was cunning. Worse still, Vicente believed the man did 'care' for Janus' Abigale Lynn.
Of course, he would. The Count thought bitterly. Only a fool would not.
Despite the sadness Janus felt and the heaviness in his soul, he resigned himself to sorrow, again sampling his own medicine. This was all his doing. Abigale Lynn was now so very afraid of him that the Count truly wondered if she would ever come home. He had proven to be a monster to her, a lesser man, no better than a drunkard at a bar trying to get into her skirts. No, he was lowlier, even. So as he walked, attempting indifference and tasting guilt, he wondered if he could force her back. Did he have such cruelty in him still? He loved her, he would never hurt her again, so she should not be so afraid... and he was not ready to accept a no to her return. He would force her back, despite feeling terribly horrid for knowing he would do so.
In the recess of his mind - an idea he did not wish to entertain - he could not help but hope the Dark Brother was kind to his love. He prayed she was with a man who would treat her better than he.
xxxx
I had been sleeping soundly, lost in a dark oblivion, but was rudely awoken by a swearing assassin. Groggy and disoriented, I turned to watch him. He stood before the opened window of our inn room, glaring out into the night. Being half-asleep, this confused me greatly. I wondered why he was mad, for he was surely mad, and more importantly why he had removed his warmth from the bed. I rubbed my eyes and sat up some, noting the anxious dropping of his fingers against the sill. I thought of calling to him, lightly question him as to what was wrong but thought better of it. Something bothered him and I was not entirely sure how well I would be received.
"Sleep eludes me." Lucien grunted, having sensed my awakening. "It is the air here...wet. I cannot stand it." Apparently, the Niben's southern climate happened to be one of the few things that truly irked the assassin. He complained about it randomly and scowled at the cloudy sky and hazy air often. I sat up further to watch him continue to stare off at Leyawiin, willing the atmosphere to change. I did not mind the weather and thought his total hatred a tad ridiculous. Instead of saying this, I opted for a much more gentle approach.
"We are leaving in the morning, yes? You will not need to endure it much longer." My attempts at soothing him were met with a grunt and deepened frown. He watched me for a minute before shaking his head and walking over. Lachance retrieved my shoes that had been tucked beneath the nightstand and handed them to me. I quirked my brow and watched him, only mildly annoyed as he pulled the covers off of my body.
"I do not 'endure' things unless absolutely necessary. We are leaving now. Ready yourself fast. I am quite done here." It was my turn to complain. I whined softly as I eyed the bed. He may not have been resting but I had been quite comfortable and found his decision obnoxious.
"Must we go now?" I pouted, my high-pitched and unpleasant tone grabbing the assassin's attention. "I was sleeping. Is this not a bit hasty? Keep your distance from me and you will not be so warm. Will you not lie down and try again?"
"Unless you are naked, I will not be going back to that oven." The assassin proclaimed, already pulling a loose tunic over his head. "It will be better for us to travel now as is. The father we are from this heated swamp before daybreak, the better." He grabbed a belted vest and made quick work of dressing. I had noticed, both regrettably and foolishly, that the Count and Lucien Lachance changed in very similar steps. They both even removed their shirts by reaching upward and pulling on the fabric at the back of their collars...I thought such a way ridiculous and lengthy but admired quietly all the same. With great effort, I pushed the image of the Count aside and instead carefully dressed as I watched the assassin pull on his boots.
After my changing - which took very little time - and Lucien's decoration of himself with weapons both concealed and visible, we packed our belongings and left the inn. I swatted lightly at the sheer amount of insects as we walked and again clung to the assassin. We made our way to the stables, quickly greeted by an eager Shadowmere who seemed to sense her rider's sheer irritation to the County. Lucien made quick work of righting our supplies and saddling us onto the mare. I held him loosely, still quietly irritated over having to leave at so late an hour, but very soon adjusted my grip. Lachance had set Shadowmere into a frightfully fast gallop. I clutched his shirt tightly until my fingers began to ache and prayed that cooler weather would find us soon.
xxxx
By the time dawn had broken we were well off the road and back into the wood, blessedly trotting around boulders and brambles, steadily traveling north. I soon begged the assassin to let us take a break from riding. My body ached from being so tense for so long during his bolt away from Leyawiin. My thighs, in particular, burned from keeping up with Shadowmere's blisteringly fast pace.
We dismounted and I stood on two very unsteady legs, biting back a moan as I straightened them once the assassin turned his back. Sensing my discomfort, no doubt feeling a modicum himself, Lachance turned to me with a knowing little smirk. "Too much?" I only glared and did not dignify him with any more of an answer than that. The assassin chuckled as he sauntered over, looking more than pleased with the great distance we put between ourselves and Leyawiin in such a short amount of time. "You could have voiced a complaint, my dear. Remember: vocalize. I cannot read your mind."
"It feels as though you can at times. You are adept at sensing my discomfort so I thought it was obvious." I quipped, testing my very tender legs and groaning aloud this time at their soreness, shooting Lucien another nasty look. "And, I think you knew fully well that I was frightened and exhausted. You roused me from sleep and thrust me onto your horse and proceeded to ride on like a madman. I am lucky that I did not fly off and into the Niben."
The assassin patted my head once before me. "I would have joined you, should you have been tossed in. It may have helped to wake us both." He grinned widely at my continued glare and placed a gentle hand upon my shoulder. Lachance then muttered a soft incantation, magic steadily extending from his touch to me. In moments, I felt renewed. His restorative magic was much more gentle than the potions I was used to drinking for the Count's bites. This felt much like a caress and was as soothing as it was effective. "There. Any better?" I gave a small nod and watched his hand, shifting my hips to assess my newfound rejuvenation.
"Thank you." I breathed, still intently watching him as he retracted his touch, looking smug. I wondered what his talents felt like once cast. Never able to truly progress in my own magic, all was a mystery to me. Lucien had me practice some while we took shelter in his Sanctuary but all I did was purposely blocked. I could not help but long to know what most did as easily as breathing. It was an enigma. The idea of energies I never knew or effectively produced was so very difficult for me to grasp.
"Unrequired, Little Countess. I am only undoing the damage I inflicted to your tender self." The assassin soon followed my gaze to his gauntleted hand. His brow steadily quirked at my pout, oblivious to the focal point of my curiosity. I considered asking him to teach me his magic but was ashamedly embarrassed to do so, despite being unsure why. "...You look interested." He said suddenly and I gave a small, tentative nod in response. "Would you perhaps be interested in trying to dabble in the Arcane now?" I nodded hurriedly, feeling foolish by the amused grin that broke out on the assassin's face as I did so.
Being so terribly obvious and eager I blushed and inwardly cursed myself for it. I quickly brought my cold fingertips to my cheeks in a poor attempt to halt the color, Lucien still watching with avid and unabashed interest. "Yes, please. I-I would like very much to learn."
The assassin took both my hands in his own, thumbs pressing almost painfully into my palms as he did so. I held back a wince as I remembered him doing the very same action multiple times after my training with Teinaava. "The best way to learn is to practice. Try to cast anything, bring it forth to your hands." I nodded, feeling suddenly very on spot and unsure. I did want to learn but conjuring powers I had never fully known was daunting. I chewed my lip and looked to Lucien again, feeling very much like a hopeless student. He laughed at me lightly, the sound airy but not unkind. "You must make an attempt or nothing will happen. We will stand here until nightfall."
"I...I do not know what I am doing exactly." I confessed, now doing my hardest to avoid the assassin's stare.
"Do as my Family taught you. You were making progress even with your stunted talents and that wretched little amulet. Repeat those exercises and it will come. Try." I nodded, thinking back hard to my days in the Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary. Although it was not long ago that we resided there, most of my memories regarding the Speaker's Family were oddly repressed. I remembered mostly him, as I shadowed their leader as instructed. My training was vastly limited, yet it was more than I had ever been taught. Under Lucien's black stare, I could not help but falter. His underlings had forced their kindness to me and feigned respect, as ordered. Lachance had to do no such thing. He expected excellence from all, now he watched me, and I was perpetually pathetic in all things that involved life... "You know, I had predicted this," Lucien remarked, thankfully pulling me from my thoughts. "I realize that I make you tense but it is very unnecessary. All start out unsure as you are now. Not even I was born with a blade in my hand, you know. Practice is required for greatness."
Again I gave a little nod, rendered mute as I dared myself to meet the assassin's gaze and listen to him continue. "Raw talent does help but it is hardly needed. You will never know the full extent of your gifts if you make no attempts. Test yourself, Little Countess... Now conjure." I looked away and closed my eyes, trying hard to relive the lessons I had been taught and remember the instruction given. However, I was still keenly aware of Lucien and his inquisitive stare. His observing of me made me shrink away slightly even as I tried to focus. For a flickering moment, I thought I had felt something but it died quickly and I shook my head with discouragement.
"Perhaps another time. I-I cannot do this. I am too tired." I pulled my hands from his, relieved that he let me do so. However, Lachance continued to watch me peculiarly before carefully removing his gloves.
"No, you are not 'too tired'. You simply lack the proper motivation." He commented casually, pocketing the leathers and retrieving a dagger from his boot. With no hesitation, reaction or a simple change of expression, the assassin brought his own blade across his palm and sliced a deep gash into his flesh. I could not stifle a little gasp from the spectacle, watching in mortification as blood quickly welled in his palm and ran through his splayed fingers...I was also reminded of a situation I had foolishly put myself in some time ago. "My, my...what an unforeseen turn of events. Quite the predicament you are now caught in, my dear. Assistance?"
"I-I do not know what to do!" I squealed, faltering before making my way forward to the heavily bleeding Lachance. I was baffled. "What on Nirn possessed you?"
"In regards to what? Everything I do? Madness or destiny, I know not which." He teased, flashing me a big, white smile. "But to be quite honest with you, I am not entirely in the mood for such a psychological conversation. Being on the receiving end of the blade is very unpleasant. Make it better, at your earliest convenience... Ehem, tick tock."
"At my earliest convenience?!" I repeated, now even more baffled. I was in no mood for Lucien's teasing or his random self-harm. I took his wrist in both my hands and held him tightly, trying to staunch the blood flow and force him to angle the appendage higher, but he would not budge for me. "I only recently stopped thinking you to be utterly mad and you do... you do this! Why?" The assassin whistled, expertly ignoring my pleas. I looked for Shadowmere, hoping to grab a potion, only to find that the mare was nowhere to be found. I whined in exasperation and focused back on the assassin's red hand, oddly wondering if he thought the sight of his bloodied skin to be normal now, being that the blood was usually not his own.
With my lip between my teeth, I shut out my fears of him and wondered what to do for assistance. Knowing that he wished for me to try my magic, I decided to give a halfhearted effort, hoping that once he saw its ineffectiveness, he would change his mind and heal it himself. The plan seemed good. However, I did not factor in what I would do should my magic work. So, I was left quite dumb and partly startled as I effectively willed his wound away, wishing that I could have done the same for myself in Castle Skingrad months prior.
I stared, more shocked at the sight of steadily knitting flesh than I had been at the assassin's ruining of it with his blade. "Excellent. Do not lose your focus from surprise. Continue." I nodded mutely, still near gaping from bewilderment at Lachance's hand before me and the tendrils of my magic that licked at his skin. Once it had finally healed, the assassin delicately pried my hands from him, looking thoroughly amused by my apparent surprise. "See? Easy. You need to stop now or you will wear yourself out. End your magic, Abigale."
Again, I nodded foolishly. Unsure of how to stop the flow of energy from my fingertips, I took a small step away from Lucien. Thankfully, it had worked. I watched Lachance as he tested his palm and flexed his digits, seemingly very pleased. He looked to me appraisingly, flashing me a large, knowing smile. I only continued to stare, utterly dumbfounded that I had successfully conjured magic. I looked down to my own hands, summoning lightly again, watching in amazement as my restorative powers resurfaced at my command. "I...I can do it?" I mumbled disbelievingly, eyes as wide as saucers as I gawked at the blue smoke-like wisps and their oddly bright shine.
"Of course. It is strong within you, as I expected it to be. Breton roots, like myself. And let us not forget your Dibellan blood too. You have a gift, indeed." He rolled his wrist, genuinely grinning at the appendage as he did so. "I thank you for your great blessing, my dearest Sybil... But I confess, I am quite stunned by the potency of your spell. You truly healed the damage I had acquired over a decade ago. This joint would pain me and grind, now it is like new. Aches that I only realized were present have disappeared..." He again rolled his hand before turning to me and offering a strange little bow, still looking thoroughly gratified and intrigued. "I never doubted you for a second, my dear."
I swallowed hard, feeling quite awkward to receive a bow from the assassin that was not in mocking jest. I flushed slightly as he rose and did my best to compose myself and appear firm. "Well...well thank you. B-but that does not excuse you giving yourself an injury. You could have lost too much blood and suffered true damage." The assassin only chuckled before turning. He whistled for Shadowmere, who quickly joined us again. I fixed her with a glare as well, knowing disturbingly how strong her connection was with Lucien. No doubt he somehow had her run off so I could not go through our supplies for aid.
Lachance pulled a rag from his pack and wiped the blood from his hand with it. "Do not fret. I survived and I am not so fragile. I have suffered worse... A crisp corner of parchment, for example." He laughed at his own joke and placed the stained cloth back into a satchel before turning his attention to me. "But if you are so inclined to worry, perhaps you can kiss it better? I heard that helps quite a bit too." I folded my arms over my chest and turned my head away from the assassin. In truth, I was hardly angry now. I was a small bit peeved by his methods but appreciated them all the same. Yet I did not want Lachance to know this, I did not want him to think I condoned his behavior in the slightest. He had frightened me, as he often did, and I did not like the sight of blood upon his hands for multiple reasons.
Inside, I was still rejoicing and greatly thankful to Lucien Lachance for successfully evoking magical energies within me. I had many tutors, even my mother and all had failed. The assassin put me in a situation where I felt a dire need to aid. It had worked significantly well. I could not help but wonder why no one else had considered such a thing. Then I felt foolish for wondering, as no one ever cared or was willing to inflict bodily harm for myself. Immediately, once recognizing this, I grew uneasy and very much bashful over Lucien's willingness to slice himself open, simply to teach me magic...
With my arms still crossed and lips pulled into a childish pout, I looked to the assassin once more, watching as he poked about a tree. Although I still did not approve of his means, I was strangely touched. "I am too angry to kiss you." I lied, watching his smile falter the slightest bit as he straightened.
"What a shame. I thought your great lapse into silence was due to your taking my request into account." He strode forward, took my hand and placed a bright orange flower into my open palm. I recognized it immediately as the tiger lily I had weeks ago described. I blinked as I stared down at its speckled petals and sunset hues in confusion. I was genuinely surprised that he remembered I confessed to liking such a thing. I, shamefully, had forgotten all about the discussion until present. "Do not tease me so... And consider this a small 'thank you' gift from me. This happens to be the lily we once spoke of. I hope it is up to your memory's standards."
I only stared curiously in response, hesitating slightly on how to proceed. Truthfully, I appreciated his small sacrifice of flesh, his off approach to my magic and his little gift. I twirled the stem of my flower nervously, chewing my lip as the assassin turned away. The man shocked me consistently. I narrowed my gaze, a touch confused and off-put. "D-do you make a habit of slicing yourself to stimulate your students? It is effective, I admit." Again, I did not fully understand my harshness. I felt partly defensive. Over what, I did not know. Of course, I did not like the image of a bloodied Lachance, but nor did I like the image of a wounded Lachance either. Even at his own hand, no doubt entirely controlled had something gone awry, I had internally panicked. I worried for him and it was an unsettling thing to realize.
"Just you, so be appreciative." He remarked lightly, beckoning me to follow him deeper into the woods. I obeyed, watching his back and stroking the petals of my gift as we walked. "You should take a moment to peek up your skirts. See if that welt I gave you healed." Lucien randomly offered, turning to cast me a wicked smirk. I blushed anew, very much despising the constant heat in my face, and refocused on the lily I held. "You put off quite a bit of energy. I would not be surprised if it extended to yourself. I was mindful not to heal such a thing. I think the bruise is a lovely addition to your milky skin. I will be rather upset if it is gone."
Although I did consider checking, I would not do such a thing with Lachance near. Instead, I carefully prodded where I knew the mark to be. It had ached some when I touched it the day prior. Upon quick inspection and lack of soreness, I smiled triumphantly. I had healed both Lucien and myself. "It is gone."
"Ah, sorrow. I suppose I will just have to give you another then, in due time." With shameful swiftness, my triumph withered and my dreaded blush returned. I again turned my attention to brightly orange petals.
xxxx
In three days time, we had again crossed the Nibenay Valley and Basin. The air again had more of a chill, which greatly pleased the assassin. Thankfully for myself, the cold's bite was not too strong and spring was in full bloom. The forest and roads were littered with greenery and brightly colored blossoms. I took in the flora with great appreciation. Some blooms were remarkably large, greater than both my hands put together. It was early in the afternoon as we rode along on Shadowmere, nearing the witch's cottage once more. Needless to say, I was less than pleased by the idea of seeing the witch, Melisande, again. Although quiet, I felt the assassin too tense a small bit as well once we approached her lands.
"I do hope she has lost some interest in ourselves," Lucien commented as we dismounted Shadowmere. "I am in no mood to stay long."
"I agree," I mumbled, slipping from the mare and into his waiting hands. Travel had proven agreeable, albeit exhausting. Having to endure another reading or some such taxing nonsense had me dreading the cottage threshold. "Do you think she will be very forthcoming?"
"Truthfully? No. She will no doubt want to pester us more before relenting anything of value. It was our bargain with her, regrettably. She will stare into our futures again. I am certain that she will be quite tactless and coarse in her findings, much like our last visit. Mythical and vague too, for as a witch, she must keep some mystery." I sighed, very much loathing another prediction. Inevitably, it had to be. With equal hesitance, we made our way to the cottage and were soon received.
Many locks and bolts being undone resounded from the opposite side of the door. Lucien and I shared irked glances before being greeted by Melisande. The witch stood in the entrance of her home, this time barefoot and much more filthy than I had remembered. Expression stolid, she wiped her very soiled hands upon her apron before ushering us inside, the assassin deeply frowning as her muddy hand fell upon his arm. She pulled him in and then myself and quickly closed the door. She stood silently, eyeing us both oddly as we stood in the now darkened entrance of her home. The assassin and I again shared an uncomfortable look.
"Hmm, I cannot determine your relations. Strange energy, wild attraction, plenty of guilt...Huh, have you had her yet, assassin?" I blanched and shifted away further from the curious woman. Lachance's change of expression was immediate, he looked torn between shock and anger, eventually offering an icy smile. I found myself incredibly thankful for the remarkable hold the man had on his temper...when there were witnesses, at least.
"I never kiss and tell." He remarked with unmistakable sharpness before fully smoothing away his irritation. With controlled casualness, he then brandished the sack full of gems before the witch. "As much as I would love to stay, I am a busy man. We are not here for the joys of your company, you realize. This is not a pleasure visit. We have what you asked. Now, won't you aid us?"
Melisande was quick to accept Lucien's offering and rummaged through the bag. She scrutinized each gem, holding it up to the light of a candle as she inspected their quality. Seemingly satisfied, she gave a few nods and motioned for us to join her at her little table. The old chair and crate we had sat upon weeks ago still resided in their same positions and were now coated with a thick blanket of dust. "That'll do, that'll do. Come and sit. Now, to the matter at hand. You need a cure for vampirism, yes? I believe I can create a potion that will do the trick. But it requires a few things. I'll fetch some parchment. This may be difficult to commit to memory. Many ingredients are required before we can proceed."
"Come again?" The assassin suddenly glared, his charming persona slipping some. "What else is 'required' and why was it not brought to my attention when first out shopping for this endeavor?" I tentatively sat in the offered chair while Lachance stood behind me brooding. The witch hunched over the table, old quill in hand as she began jotting items down onto the parchment. She, effectively, ignored him. I could not help but to stare and marvel at her ease.
"To start, I'll need six cloves of garlic, two shoots of Bloodgrass, and five leaves of Nightshade. Those will be easy enough for you to find." Lucien too watched the woman hastily scrawl items from over my shoulder, his brow steadily furrowing as he glanced further down the page. "But I'll also need the blood of an Argonian..." In an instant, I went rigid and watched the assassin's expression. Blood. Of course, the blood of an innocent would be required. I chewed my lip and felt consumed with dread once more. An image on of a Leyawiin street corner assaulting my mind. "Any old Argonian will do and you needn't kill it."
Too late, I thought bitterly.
"Again, your list further frustrates me," Lucien remarked heatedly, easily seeing the missed opportunity. "I could have easily brought you all of these 'ingredients' along wth your Soul Gems. It would have saved us time, goods, gold and my patience. Would it not have been more prudent to have given us this list prior?" Melisande shot Lucien an oddly approving look before handing him the parchment she had finished writing upon.
"Perhaps I wanted to make certain that you longed for the cure. You would be surprised by how many abandon the effort and waste my time once faced with the list you now hold. And before you dare to read and pester me with questions, I shall explain more, assassin. Yes, I require the ashes of the undead." Lucien indeed did quirk his brow as he stared hard at the parchment in hand, looking a bit intrigued as well as peeved as the witch went on. "One of the main ingredients to this brew happens to be the ashes of a powerful vampire, and the vampire must be very powerful. For obvious reasons, that may be... much more difficult for you to acquire."
Lucien scratched his chin and glanced down to the parchment once more. "Ashes of a vampire, hmm? Perhaps we shall make the journey to Skingrad..." I froze only for a moment before turning to glare at the assassin. He met my stare coolly and expectantly, offering a challenging and dangerous little smirk. "It is only a suggestion. Think of how relieved you would feel should he be removed from the picture. We could stop all this nonsense and focus on other matters."
"Stop," I whispered harshly, finding him severely lacking stealth and horribly insensitive. Mentioning Skingrad, home to the Count, was astoundingly foolish. It angered me beyond words. "For one so good with secrecy, you are remarkably loose-lipped." Lachance's bitter smile only grew. It occurred to me then, regrettably, that Lucien would not keep the Count's vampirism a secret. I did not think he would go about telling strangers, but if asked...
"Your vampire is in Skingrad?" The witch inquired, watching the odd exchange between the assassin and myself.
"N-no," I answered fast, watching in mortification as Lucien nodded his head.
"She is a poor little liar. He most certainly is in Skingrad." I stood quickly, mouth open to 'check' Lachance, but he spoke before I could hope to. "She is a witch, my dear. If I did not tell her, she would have discovered it. Her knowledge of all angles may prove invaluable. Perhaps she can help us with further matters..."
"What 'further matters'?" I demanded, arms crossing defensively. With my mind locked onto Castle Skingrad, I became oblivious to all else. To answer my question, I only received an odd look from the assassin, which did not calm me in the least.
"He is right, dearie," Melisande interjected, sharing a curious look with Lucien. I swallowed hard, feeling very much clueless as she continued. "Do not fret, your secret is safe with me. Now, back to business, hmm? The vampire must be a very powerful one. An older one too... It may be quite a trial for you." She nodded to us both and gifted us a sympathetic look. "If you are successful, it will make the cure all the more worth it. I also have a candidate for your consideration. Being that the vampire you seek is powerful, I know of one so powerful that those who sought to destroy him were unsuccessful, no matter what they tried. They could only imprison him underground, where he yet resides to this day." The witch moved to Lachance and pointed to the paper and her writing. "Search near the North Panther River for Hindaril. If you can vanquish him, his ashes will be more than adequate for my needs. Be cautious."
Lucien further regarded the list before pouting, gaze falling to me once more as he considered options that were secret to myself. The witch continued, her tone now grating on my nerves, along with all else that resided in the cottage. "Once I have all the ingredients I need, I'll fashion a cure for you. This is a delicate matter, and cannot be rushed."
"It seems so." Lucien agreed, pocketing the paper before turning towards me. "Well, we'd best be off then. Much to be done." I nodded, still glaring. Since leaving Leyawiin, the assassin had significantly calmed, as per my request. Both his sexual and violent sides had been blessedly hidden. Now, after having heard him make a terrible threat against the Count while simultaneously speaking of his home made all 'progress' vanish. In truth, I had been feeling remarkably close to the assassin. We spoke of normal things, he continued teaching me my magic and besides the random innuendo or intense stare, he had hidden his desires. All had me quite comfortable. Almost so much so that I had again foolishly repressed his darkness.
I considered storming from the cottage but decided against it. I only stood, glaring at the floor, awaiting permission to leave so I could successfully ignore the assassin and be away from our current audience. "Being that it is a considerably long list, I suppose I will refrain from looking into your futures, for now. But I do have a word of advice for the murderer..." She turned to Lucien, expression knowing and smile ruthless. "It is obvious advice but I see that you require a reminder. Now, you need much more tact to secure what it is that you want. I am very interested in the part you play and all is very enjoyable to watch unfold. However, your window of opportunity will close should you continue to be unsuccessful. I have seen much in regards to your possible tomorrows. You want to attain your prize, trust me."
"You do not need to tell me what it is that I want," Lucien replied with an oily smirk. "Thank you for your hospitality. We shall return." The assassin turned to leave but I was still near fuming and already partly out the door. I cared not for their discussion. I simply wanted to be away from all once more. I could not tolerate my thoughts or the assassin's being.
"Oh and dearie, do be more accommodating!" The witch called as I stepped out into the spring air. I turned to her for forced politeness's sake only. "You must further explore to discover what it is that you want! You are only human...mostly. You cannot help your own heart and desires. Acceptance, dearie! Do we not all have our faults? No one is perfect. Especially him." She nodded to Lucien, I only sighed, glancing between the witch and the assassin. I was in no mood for her poorly cryptic advice. I decided to answer as gently and honestly as possible, weaving through the nonsensically obscure 'aid'.
With my attention set upon Lucien, I answered Melisande. "Murder happens to be a rather imposing quality to accept."
"Touché, my dear." Lachance scoffed, arms crossing over his broad chest.
The witch then smiled softly, recapturing my attention. "Odd, is it not? You care for one who murdered you but not the one who murderers others... Curious." My attention turned hateful and I only stood and glared, watching Lucien's genuine surprise from Melisande's words and my quick change in temperament to them. He bade her a mumbled farewell and we both left the cottage in very tense and awkward silence. We trekked through the garden and to the woods where Shadowmere awaited us. I stared, silently fuming, as Lucien fussed with her saddle. I watched his fingers deftly work the belts and loops of our bags needlessly before he turned and offered me a hand to assist in mounting the mare. I glared at it, at him, and shook my head.
"I prefer walking," I said as evenly as possible, trying to quiet my strongly hateful temper. I was in no mood to hold the assassin.
"Do not be angry with me because the witch brought to light what is already well known among us." He grunted, retracting his hand and looking pointedly at me. "If the obvious is so very upsetting than perhaps you should change your life." Lucien then came forward, composed and ever calm, but somehow fully capable of staring me down even with his poised demeanor. "I find the absolute anger in those pale, green eyes of yours very much unjustly set."
"Unjustly?" I spat, feeling near the point of trembling from bottled rage. "You gave away the Count's home! How dare you?! I thought you were gifted with secrecy and -"
"How dare I?" The assassin laughed cruelly. "Oh yes, how dare I be so careless! We must protect him from all. He is such a fragile thing, reduced to feasting on his little maids - oh, Pardon - his little slaves. Slaking his thirst at your nape until you are dead. How could I possibly not have his best interest at heart? He is so very worthy of my loyalty and your affections. We must protect him..." Lucien shook his head and glared. "No, I cannot even speak of it with sarcasm. He deserves nothing. He is only good to the Brotherhood for his gold. He is an absolute death sentence to yourself and is undeserving in every sense of you, and in all ways. "
"W-who are you to judge such a thing?" I demanded, daring myself to meet his stare. "You think you are so much better? You are infinitely more horrible than he. A-and he was not always...he treated me kindly once."
"What is your definition of kindness? Did you like your imprisonment and treatment? Or perhaps you gained joy from being food and his flesh puppet?" I looked away from the assassin, cheeks burning and eyes welling with hateful tears. His words were cold and made my mind race so quickly that I could not keep up. I could not focus on a single thought or memory. I knew the Count to be kind to me once. I knew him to be... I needed him to be, even if only to console my shame for lying with him and going through all that I had. Despite me attempting to hide my sorrow, Lachance caught it easily. He spoke ever clearly, not specifically gentle or sharp. "You are correct, I am infinitely more horrible, but I would not hide it to weasel my way into your mind. I am what you see before you. Murderer, assassin, killer, cutthroat... I think too highly of you to pretend otherwise. You have your...attatchments. Do not expect me to be accepting of them."
"B-but you expect me to accept you." I countered, hastily wiping at my escaped tears, mentally cursing myself for weeping. I attempted composure, keeping myself on the brink of a mess, not falling into it. "It is unfair and hypocritical. Will you bully me for the rest of my life? I am sorry that my weakness to him repulses you so but I cannot stifle it. I-I try so hard to. I have resigned myself to never being with him again but I cannot shut him out. I am not you, I cannot detach so quickly...I wonder if I can at all." I did my best to shake away my sorrow, trying to block out the image of the man I so missed and feared. I could not return. I would be killed. Knowing this should have obliterated my feelings for the Count, but stubbornly, stupidly, my heart would not relent.
Lucien sighed before patting my head, looking thoroughly agitated as he did so. I was thankful that he did not do more to physically comfort me than that. "It has been only a month. I suppose my expectations are a little too high. I have forgotten the pains of ended relations. Given that your circumstance was quite different, my hopes for your swift recovery border ridiculous." Regrettably, his hand slipped from the top of my head and to my cheek, where he wiped away a lingering tear with the pad of his thumb, still displeased, perhaps more so. "It angers me to know that you pine for another man. One who I believe is more undeserving of you than I. I am jealous, and I hate him for the state he has left you in. Can you rationalize my behavior?"
"For this, I suppose. Not other things, though." I mumbled, still pouting. "He...he truly was kind once. I do not know if there was always a motive. It haunts me. I want to believe there was not." I paused and watched the assassin, unsure why I felt compelled to ask him the question that had gnawed away at my souls since Lucien had further validated my being a Sybil. "Do you think...do you think he only ever wanted me for my blood? Not for his sustenance but because I am a...a..."
"Dibellan." Lucien finished for me. I nodded and chewed my lip, anticipating his answer all the while knowing how foolish a question it was to pose. "To be terribly honest - no, as much as I wish to say yes. He would be the greatest fool of Nirn to not see past it, and it safe to say that I do not think you would care so were he a fool." I was surprised and soothed by his answer, despite knowing how foolish it was to put any stock in Lucien's opinion of the Count. His words were kind to me and whether or not they were false, I needed to hear them and was very glad that I did. Lachance could have easily run with my worries, but he did not.
"You are right, I am the fool of my relations, not the men." I smiled bitterly and leaned further into the assassin's touch. I was still cross and hurt but I did my best to ignore it. Lucien was not wrong for acting out his very valid distaste. He could have done much more, he could have tormented me. Instead, he chose a higher road, and the action calmed me greatly. "Thank you for your words... My anger for you fades fast. You are purely silver-tongued." The assassin smiled and moved in closer.
"It is a gift, my dear." I quickly took a step back and busied myself by brushing the dust from the witch's cottage off my skirt, Lachance's hand still lingering in the air where my cheek had just been. To his credit, the assassin accepted my obvious aversion to his touch. He soured some but did not voice his displeasure.
"W-where are we headed then, now that all that is dealt with?" I asked nervously, still avoiding his gaze while being keenly aware of his black look.
"So you say..." Lucien grunted before whistling for Shadowmere. His stare pulled mine for a moment, looking passionately angry. I swallowed hard and again ignored him. When the assassin spoke his tone was irritated. Repressed, but irritated, all the same. "We will go back to Cheydinhal, as it seems our best option. If you condescend to touch me, we may ride quick and arrive at dusk." He fixed me with a sly grin, which was oddly bitter. I thought it strange as my anger had fast faded and felt more justly suited than his. My removal of my body from his grasp caused a great shift in his temper. Perhaps he felt entitled for more closeness as he had comforted me so... I did feel a small bit guilty to disregarding the assassin's obvious advancement once more, but I was certainly in no mood to play or entertain. I was weak and pliable. He knew this, and I did not wish to be so easily manipulated and used... "Yes, I know you did not wish to hold me earlier. Which is very ridiculous, I might add. Do be reasonable, Abigale. I grow weary of this place." He nodded to the cottage. "The hag sets us both on edge... more as you at my throat."
"You started it." I mumbled nervously, thankful for the more cheerful words and tone, yet surprised to see the sharpness of his eyes still very much present.
"Oh, and I will finish it." He grinned, offering a hand once more as Shadowmere approached. "Let us be off. Cheydinhal awaits."
xxxx
It was nightfall once we entered County Cheydinhal. Lucien maneuvered us off of the road and I was blindfolded as I had been when first traveling around the County with the assassin. After the sounds of nature and a ride through the woods much longer than I remembered, we dismounted and he led me to his hideout's entrance once more. In the hollow of the tree, Lucien removed my blindfold and opened the latch beneath our feet. He had been very much himself on the ride to his home, but once my vision had been removed, I detected a stiffness to him. I did not like it and sought to end it with talk.
"Will we not be going to your Family?" I asked once we had made the descent into the old fort. Everything was as it was when we had left it weeks ago. Dark and stagnant. I did not like the ruins.
"Perhaps tomorrow," Lucien grunted, quickly removing his gloves and plopping them upon their sanctioned table. "I am in no mood to dress the part and deal with praise. You also give me difficulties when robed. More difficulties than your norm, mind." He gave me a wry smirk before setting some of his possessions aside. He readied clean clothing for tomorrow and began to disarm himself, which proved to be quite the process.
"They scare me," I said honestly, standing awkwardly in the center of the room, very much unsure of what to do or where to stand. Truth be told, I longed for his Sanctuary and its enchanted tubs and larger bed...
"You fall into the common belief with many. Despite the well-known misconception, the clothes do not make the man. It is quite the opposite." Lucien commented smoothly, moving to light a few candles, both sparse and small. The place was very dim. I made a small attempt of a smile at his back, inching over to the great pillar of the chamber.
"Says the assassin who longs to be a nudist."
"Counters the Sybil, repulsed by her own naked form." Lucien grinned, sitting upon his bed and removing his boots. "Come. Let us prepare for bed. Today has been strenuous." I obeyed and walked to him, removing several layers by his side as had become our custom. I thought back to a month prior when I would shake at the prospect of dressing down even in the slightest form with him nearby. Now, he assisted in undoing my lacing and I did not mind it in the least. It was not erotic or perverse to me anymore, though I knew Lucien did not feel the same.
As I sat beside him while he fussed with his own clothing, I wondered how I should view the man by my side. He was an awful being. Crude, cold, callous and deadly - and currently still 'secretly' very angry over my treatment of him. Lucien was not particularly kind to me but nor had he been truly cruel. Having been 'intimate' with him almost a week ago now, I wondered - though oddly and forced - how he 'felt' and what I was to do about it. I knew his interest in me was not only carnal, and that in itself was far more confusing and uncomfortable than simple lust. He cared for me in the ways he was capable. I could not ignore it any longer. And now, knowing that I was not to return to the Count, made me consider the man that was Lucien Lachance.
He was a killer who found pleasures in death and destruction. Lachance enjoyed savage violence and tailored his knowledge to the macabre and the cessation of existence. When it came to murder, he did not need the say so from the Brotherhood to spill the blood of the innocent, as he acted on his impulse to so. He gained amusement that I could never grasp from his dealings and sought more extreme tactics to carry out his wants. Lucien had told me this himself. His dark desires would never stop until he was far too old and feeble to exact them. I wondered what he wanted from me and how I fit into his plans... He spoke before of his wishes, and now I needed to hear them again. I had choices to make.
"Are...you very angry with me still?" I dared to ask, deciding not to bother ignoring his obvious disappointment to my rejection hours prior. Lucien only scoffed as he set his belt on the nightstand with several of his other articles of clothing and possessions.
"Not 'very'. Extremely. Though I am significantly surprised that you decided to stop playing dumb." He fixed me with an odd look that quickly caused me to bite my lip on impulse. "I know it is what you believe is best to do but do not expect it to be well received by me. It boils my blood." I nodded and twirled the ends of my hair nervously, partly wondering why ignoring one's affection was my greatest - and poorest - tactic. I did it often and it never bore any fruit.
"I am sorry for it. I just...I do not know what it is that I am doing." I admitted, unsure how to proceed. Truthfully, I would have liked to avoid such a conversation but I felt it now had to be done. "You must understand that...that I don't understand. There is much on my mind...You say it will be easy for me to not return to Skingrad. You say it is a matter easily handled due to your position a-and I believe you. But...but what will become of me then? And what happens now? I cannot stop thinking it and fearing your answer." I looked to the assassin, searching for any explanations, amused by how easily I had learned to confide in him. He had known almost all of my secrets from the very beginning, after all...
"You are burdened by your own thoughts. They are your greatest inhibitors." Lachance commented, regarding me curiously. "I have told you what it is that I want of you. I believe it is your turn to tell me what it is that you want from me." I sighed, very much unsure of what I possibly wanted from the assassin. I cared for him, to an extent, and I did shamefully find his form curious...I wondered what could be built from two very unstable people, such as ourselves. He claimed to desire honest relations. Not having to tiptoe around would be convenient for him, I saw the appeal. But for myself...I did not know what could be gained. I hated what he did. I hated his bloody joys and sinister outlook of all that surrounded him. And yet Lachance had a way of making me feel at ease. Whether it was the warmth of his skin or the honeyed words that left his lips, I knew not. He simply knew how to soothe. When I forgot his darkness, he could make me laugh. He pointed out small positive things about my very useless self and turned them into achievements.
Lucien knew how to compliment. One minute I was a lowly renegade Sybil and whore, the next I was a lady traveling, laughing at some terrible story the assassin cooked up for my amusement. He spoke of interesting things and places. His stories were endless and he would even entertain me by listening to my own, poor and boring as they were. There certainly were perks that came along with him, perhaps almost equal to his cons. If not for his murder, I may have liked him more...But his skills made him strong and sharp. I felt that was required, but I was unsure why. I knew I did not love the assassin, and I highly doubted that I ever would. I still knew not how to digest the idea of Lachance and I... But he was an alternative. I wondered if it was fair. Perhaps I deserved the eternal guilt for his murders as a charge for being with him. I would abandon the Count of Skingrad for a man of murder, all to be away...
"I want whatever you are willing to give." I finally relented, shifting my gaze to the floor. "You once said you wanted a life of honesty... so, here is the truth: I am utterly helpless. I am a burden. It is kind of you to not think so, and I am not trying to speak poorly of myself for pity, either. I have no defense, no tools of trade...I have no people, no talents, and no value. Until recently, I could not even cast...Thank you for teaching me. Thank you for trying." I fiddled with the fabric of my underdress, trying to voice my honest thoughts into strong words. "I am the epitome of weakness, and I am also very much clueless on how to show proper affection to a man. You...you need to understand all of this if you truly want to... to have me with you." I swallowed hard and forced myself to meet the assassin's stare. He looked intrigued and remained silent. My mind flitted to the Count and the pain that coupled the imagery of him in my thoughts. I decided to be absolutely truthful. If it was as he desired, I owed him it for daring to shepherd me. "I do not want to mislead you. Y-you have been good to me but...but I do not think I can ever care for you the way I think you would like me to. I...It is not you, but I do not think myself capable any longer. My heart is full, and it has brought me nothing but anguish."
The assassin only stared, black eyes hooking my attention. I felt very much pinned by his gaze alone and wondered if I had been too careless or forthcoming. "Your wounds are still fresh, my dear. I believe your heart will empty, given time. I will not demand it of you, however. But we need not be so hasty for total affection. We are both adults with peculiar histories, and thusly owe it to one another to be realistic in our expectations." He gave a thoughtful nod, and I silently weighed his words. "With that in mind I say to you now, so long as there is an agreeable amount of warmth, it is enough and I will be satisfied. I need some tenderness and will only take up a very small corner of your heart... I cannot promise that I won't attempt to gain more, as it will be a challenge." He grinned, which caused me to pout. Still, I felt oddly lifted by his honest offering. It was...tolerable. "I would like small things if you accept me as your partner. A level amount of shown compassion and acted passion, I think is only fair."
It was my turn to nod, though more hesitantly this time as I regarded his offering. Logical, reasonable, mostly amenable...but still with a considerate price to pay. All had a price, and as I had long contemplated a similar bargain between the assassin and myself for protection, the echo of my musings was almost chilling. It was a dark deal, but it was a passable one. Perhaps the most decent arrangement I had been offered in a very long time.
I believed I could accept it, accept him, with all the accompanying wickedness that I knew would surely follow. I would be able to endure it, as I did believe he had no desire to actually harm me, and that was my focal point. To be unharmed... However, I was not completely foolish. I was still very curious as to why he lacked the 'impulse' to hurt me. Why me not me? "Before we fully agree, I would like to know why you have selected me as your potential 'partner'. You have been brandishing this idea around for some time. Why have you deemed me so worthy of your parameters? Why am I chosen?"
Lucien offered me a smile, both impish and genuine. "I have many reasons why I have selected you, though I am unsure if I should tell you them. I do not want to give you the wrong impression, especially now." He could tell by my face that I would not agree unless told. Thankfully, he yielded to my expression. "I am not romantic, Abigale, but from the very moment I saw you, I knew I had to play with you. Your hair caught my eye, I have always been fond of the color. I went to you like a moth to flame despite swearing not to." I quickly stopped touching my own hair on impulse, thinking oddly again on his truth and how his words were anything but romantic. I also remembered the copper-haired Dunmer of Leyawiin and repressed the thought to keep from feeling more unsettled. Something so small like the hues of my locks would draw a predator so big like Lucien - it was a ridiculous fate. "Then I heard you speak. A voice so delicate, swearing bodily harm to another...it was very hard for me to ignore."
I went cold as I thought of the angry nonsense I spewed about the baker, laying the bricks for his demise... Lucien grinned proudly at the recollection as he continued. "I stole your bag while you were lost in your fury. An excellent conversation starter, I had thought. Little did I know how rare it was for you to bless others with your pretty words. I wanted your attention and so I later acted on your wishes, then I followed you throughout the day and waited for an opportunity to get you alone."
"You followed me the entire day?" I mumbled in question, latching onto the first thing that drew me away from the pastry shop.
"Indeed, I did. Stalking one's prey is wonderfully satisfying. I never imagined being so enamored by a dismissal from a girl who was more interested in the cracks of the walkway, rather than myself." The assassin stroked my arm and moved closer to me on his bed. I again swallowed hard, finding reminiscing counterproductive to our relations. "It was in that alleyway that I realized I had no control over myself when in your company. I knew what you were in an instant...but not who. I had corned the Sybil of Skingrad. It was destiny. But I wanted more than just to touch you. I needed to kiss you and more."
"I remember well, but I do not see how any of this pertains to my question."
"I am leading up to it, my dear. Patience." He smirked, effectively silencing me once more. "After our parting, I thought of you endlessly. Days on end. I wanted you to think of me. I did not want to give you the choice, you had to think of me. So, I wrote letters that you could not ignore."
"Very aware. I read them. Your tactic worked beautifully."
"Do not be so bitter, look how all has panned out. I confess, I knew that I would enjoy you but I never dreamt it would be to this extent. Aside from you looks - which I do very much appreciate - there is so much more to you. You are suspicious, cynical, untrusting and wary. You believe in no one, not even yourself. And yet while you are all those things you still manage to be gentle, caring and kind. Tender too, should I pry some of your barriers down to glimpse it." He grinned. "I find you amusing. We get along well enough...you touching me now while knowing that I am a Dark Brother is poetic. I can envision myself with you for many, many years." He paused, his stare growing more intense with his words. "To me, it seems that your anxieties have formed you into this person before me. Forever lovely and tormented. I feel I must have you and aid you. Do 'good' by you... It is a pity you must always look over your shoulder. You are my fate, I think, as you are the embodiment of innocence. I think it is my duty, my charge to guard you always, and it will be my absolute pleasure to do so."
"Charge?" I questioned, off-put by the power behind his stare, and yet finding a strange serenity with his confession. The thought of his absolute protection was appealing. "I did not know you felt an obligation to watch over me. I-I cannot say it is unwelcome but...it does not fit you. Why do you -"
"An enjoyable penance then for my past excursions. We both know that I am not a good man. Protecting you will be the most saintly thing I have ever done. And despite how it sounds, it is not selfless, as I would have you. But it is my atonement to yourself. Should you agree to our arrangement, I will keep you safe...and I will cherish you, if permitted."
I stared at the assassin and absorbed the entirety of his proposal. It was honest and logical. I did not like reminiscing on Skingrad so, but he spoke of it with passion. The memory pleased him and the opportunity for more memories together pleased him even further. Despite the very unsettling and dark aspects, I was moved. He was certainly not a romantic, as he had warned, but he claimed to care for me and I knew it was truth. He enjoyed who I was and that was surprising. He often commented lightly on my behaviors with a smile. He noticed strange and honest things. We had been so close together for over a month, hardly ever leaving the other's side...I was not repulsed by his company, even while knowing that I should have been. It was wrong of me to be so cowardly, but Lucien's greatest feature to me was his absolute control and strength. He would protect me passionately. He would guard my body - me - with all that he was. He had countless opportunities to hurt me, to touch me, to lose himself, but he did not. I could not say the same for any man on Nirn. No, not any man but the murder. If protecting me was his charge, then eternal guilt would be mine. Safety was a luxury I never truly knew and I wanted it desperately.
I kissed him. The act was odd and forced. I pressed my mouth to his, my eyes closed and face flushed by the poorly executed boldness I attempted to exude. The last time I had initiated a kiss had been for another, and it was done to pacify. This was different, as I was trying to show my acceptance to his proposal. Lucien did not deepen the touch, but I felt his lips twist into a smile against mine before I pulled away.
"I take that as a yes?" He purred in question, looking delighted yet calm. I nodded at his smirk, feeling very uncomfortable under his slowly heating stare. "Splendid." I startled as he grabbed me and tossed me beneath him on the bed. He came to me quickly and I cursed the darkness of the room and the ghoulish atmosphere that was set...and how Lucien seemed to perpetually look as though he was going to eat my soul at night. "I told you I would finish our earlier argument proper."
"W-wait!" I nearly squealed, hands going up quickly, hoping to keep him at bay. "I-I do agree but this is rather -"
"Exciting? Spontaneous?" He grinned, looking mischievous and very much riled. I swallowed hard and calmed myself. Lucien had yet to force himself on me, I needed to stop expecting it of him. He took my kiss as an invitation, I simply needed to fix his expectations.
"Sudden.'' I corrected, regaining my composure with surprising swiftness. "I will not...I will not object to you any longer but I implore you to wait." The assassin's expression faltered ever so slightly. My denial, after agreeing and 'passionate' display annoyed him. Thankfully, it did not ruin his mood. On the contrary, he still seemed greatly pleased by my submitting to his proposed arrangement... but slightly bothered that I still would not submit to him.
"That seems a contradiction." He sighed, mood still lifted in spite of my stopping him...again. "Fine. Gift me with your reasons?"
Truthfully, I had many. I felt there was so much more to absorb and I had only scratched the surface. I was giving myself to the assassin and I felt almost numb to the realization. His words were pleasing and I believed I could sufficiently tolerate him, but not myself. I knew I would forever loath myself and it was a daunting task, as my personal views were anything but high now. And there would be my eternal sorrowful link to Skingrad and the Count. Betraying him so to remain alive defeated me. I no longer knew how to feel for him. I would want him eternally - the man I once knew who talked to me about paintings and books... Still, it was done. He would never forgive me for lusting for the assassin, and even if he somehow did, he had turned cold and wanted my death regardless. Lucien took me away from all of it. Away from the Castle and Maids Quarters. Away from Tualga and Hal-Liurz. Away from the place I had grown to so love. Away from the vampire Count himself, my once upon a time hero from all things wicked and cruel...
I swallowed hard. It was done. "I want to take a bath."
Lucien paused, brow quirked at the end to my uncomfortably long musings and silence. He opened his mouth to counter but stopped. Instead, he humored me, knowing the truth behind my quiet and gifting me with false ignorance. He glanced down to his once clean tunic, resigning himself to my aversion with a tired smirk. "...We do smell of dirt and Shadowmere." I nodded and forced something akin to a smile, pleased that he visibly lightened by my mirrored look before removing himself and settling beside me. "Tomorrow then. All good things to those who wait, correct? We need not rush anything now." I nodded once more, allowing him to pull my face to his. "Yet I find myself impatient and in need of something to hold me over tonight."
It was his turn to surprise me with a kiss and I fell into it merrily. It was a blessed distraction that I greatly needed. Our lips met again and again in an estranged yet lustful dance that continued until dawn approached. I had never kissed for so long, nor did I think such a thing could have been enjoyable, but it most certainly was. He was very good with working his mouth, as I had already shamefully come to realize. Eventually, all slowed from our mutual weariness, and I thought it interesting that the assassin found such touches enjoyable and engaging for so long. I thought surely they were too chaste, as his lower-self had been at attention for the entire duration of our embrace, but he did not ask for more again. And his hands did wander...but I did not reprimand him for it. His touch lingered over my clothing and did not venture beneath. Eventually, he succumbed to sleep and I was left staring at the dreaming murderer, who I had just been numbly passionate with for hours on end.
I cried quietly for a time, thinking of all that I had lost in Skingrad, and the fleeting happiness that I had known. The Count, who I could almost feel watching me, made my heart break anew with each passing second. He was as close to me in spirit and magic as Lachance was in his physical form. I begged him for forgiveness in my mind and poured my heart out fearlessly with my thoughts. I knew he could not hear them though, but I needed to explain why I was doing this to him and myself for myself. I was far too afraid and what he wished of me was unfair. I swore my servitude, that I would live a life sentence within Castle Skingrad, not an eternal one. He had also sworn not to feed on me, or harm me in any manner. He broke his word. We both broke our word and now I was too cowardly to face him.
I could never say these things to the Count, the thought itself caused me to shudder involuntarily. I tried to think of the fanged smile I once so loved but all I could conjure was his mouth dangerous and scowling. His cool touch that I had at a time found soothing turned bruising and violent. Everything from his kiss to his caress turned bitter in a matter of days; days that seemed to never end, as I was without windows and sunshine. Time stood still with the Count and I could not handle the concept of eternity with him now...I was too feeble. Too broken. I was never strong, but he weakened me when he broke my trust and heart again and again.
Eventually, I too fell asleep and into nightmares that seemed inescapable. Leather wings broke from my skin and my blood ran cold and thick down my spine.
Author's Notes: *Plays dramatic music* Lots of feelings in this chapter...lots of stuff...lots of triple period abuse...XD I am interested in seeing your takes on this update. I love the division in the reviews XD My 'soul searching' for characters gets difficult when 'they' (not me, had no part in this :P) make decisions I don't agree with! So, it might seem skippy as I try to validate their reasoning. We'll see more of that in later chapters too. I'll try to keep it smooth! 8D