Author's Notes: Fanfiction is having trouble. Hasn't let me post this...lets try again! 8D This chapter is Lucien dominated, which was not originally intended. I also had to rewrite an entire portion of this chapter, as my laptop froze and the work did not save. Ugh... Anywho, no Janus... Which - I'm not gonna lie - is upsetting. I miss writing about him. We're getting there, slowly but surely, but he is mah fave and I miss his angst XD. There is a small portion of this chapter which is a direct pull from an in-game book. IT IS NOT MY WORK. I will italicize the text, but what you are reading is not mine - random and obvious, I know. Some gore in this chapter, too! Heed the warnings! lol
WARNING: This chapter is rated M.You have been warned.
Love or Blood
Chapter Sixty-one: The Best Behaviors
XXXX
Lucien Lachance had won. In the quiet of Fort Farragut's antechamber, he grinned in the darkness with his Sybil sleeping in his arms. Hours had passed them by, both slow and sweet. At one point he had drifted into a deep slumber, then he awoke to the feeling of pure triumph and glee. He again looked down to Abigale Lynn, admiring her beauty with great appreciation. She was all his now and it felt wonderfully satisfying. Their union would be rough at first, he was well aware of her lingering and burdensome attachment to the Count of Skingrad. However, Lucien also knew that those troublesome sentiments would assuredly fade with more time.
The assassin pulled at the chemise she wore and let his hand drift beneath the cloth. He touched her supple skin, noting the unrealistically smooth and soft feel of her beneath his roughened fingertips. She was tender, more so than a newborn, he thought, feeling that such a comparison hardly did her any justice. Lachance felt very much unable to make a satisfying match of her delicate flesh to anything he had ever felt. It was that good, that mind-numbingly glorious. So satisfying to simply touch...
He kept his caresses tame and did not wander anywhere he had not stroked before in the day with her awake and alert. Still, the entire act made him feel deliciously wicked, despite the touches being so harmless. He believed the quickening of his own pulse to be caused by her willingness. Should the girl wake to him lusting, all was not entirely hopeless any longer. They were now very much bonded, as he had claimed a week prior, and she would not forcibly deny herself of him. The desire was mutual and in dire need of exacting - a bath the only thing that stood in their way. It had the assassin quite tempted to empty one of the many stone coffins of his fort and fill it... but such desperation was very unbecoming. It did not fit his character. And as great as his longing was, he was not a man to change any part of himself to earn a woman's - not even one he cared for - affections.
Lucien allowed his mind to wander, prideful over all he had secured. A companion worthy of devotion, at long last. He had thought he found 'the one' several times prior but something always went amiss. Usually, once it was discovered that he was not an entirely safe lover to keep. Not all his previous relations ended poorly, of course. Truthfully, he only butchered his partner of seven years due to her own infidelity. He had invested much in that, and having refused pursuits to remain loyal, soon finding his practices were not being reciprocated hurt his pride and very tender feelings...and there had been so many missed opportunities.
Had the Speaker known of Abigale Lynn's existence in any measure, he would have forgone all else. He was still rather disturbed by his own affections for the girl, but now with their finalizing of their relations, he simply permitted the feelings to exist. Why not? After all, she was his now and he had grown quite weary of trying to stifle such sentiments. Now, the girl was undoubtedly beautiful. Truthfully, Lucien thought the word 'beautiful' to lack impact when describing her. It fell short to what he beheld, touched, heard, tasted, smelled...he could not find an adequate word in his remarkably vast vocabulary that felt remotely satisfactory for her description. She was otherworldly. Dreamlike. A gift. But all these things were only on the surface. Inside she was deep and equally stimulating.
Abigale Lynn was wonderfully odd. Off - a touch mad, much like himself. Her eyes were always searching for motives, things, hidden meanings in the simplest of words. She trusted no one, nothing, not even herself. She put stock in the absolution of betrayal. Everyone was out for her blood and flesh. He supposed she earned the right to scrutinize and flinch so, as from what she had shared, her upbringing was anything but sweet and calming. The end result that was Abigale Lynn proved rather suiting for him and his career. He longed for honesty, whereas she searched for falsities. What better pair on Nirn than her and he? None. It was astoundingly fitting. He would be good to her in all ways. And she would be a wonderful asset to him as well. Should she grow more comfortable and interested in his career things could get interesting. Such an untrusting beauty was sure to cause a stir or distraction...though this was just a fantasy for him. He would not force her to partake in an assassination in any measure. He had no desire to see blood on her hands. But he could not help but wonder if she would appreciate his finesse with a blade against a man's back...
What he knew of his Abigale Lynn, he very much liked and had no desire to order or change her. He enjoyed her great disbelief, her genuine little laugh, her heated glare and reddened cheeks. As the girl was, she seemed ever fitting to his odd spirit. They tended to just work. It was astounding how he looked forward to the morning; Abigale Lynn's perpetual groggy confusion and her messed fiery tresses. The war of blankets that followed waking, the way she eventually sat up, cocooned as though caught in a blizzard as she watched him dress, soon venturing from her confines to follow suit. It was a little ritual that was astoundingly homey despite their location, whether they took their evenings in a lavish inn, humble tent, or dilapidated fort, the delightful pattern followed.
Nights proved equally comfortable, as did the day. He greatly enjoyed Abigale Lynn's odd company. As they steadily wore away their initial 'newness' familiarity took form. They grew close and tended to unknowingly rely on the other for small comforts that were often only seen in relations that were several years into the making. Lucien found himself looking forward to their future and could not help but to speak or think of it passionately. He could imagine her excitement to new environments. Cyrodill was lovely, Skyrim lovelier still. Going by her likes, he believed she would have a great appreciation for the province of Skyrim - Riften, especially - much like he. Her gaze tended to linger on great birches. She would enjoy it there. But first, he would endeavor to grant her a visitors access to the Arcane University. Since her newly discovered magic, she would light up at the Mystic Archives, no doubt. All those books at her disposal for three days time would make for a much better visit to the Imperial City than the damnable Market District ever could. She quietly admired flowers too. A few hours spent in the Arboretum would grant him her favor, certainly. She spoke of Kvatch as well. He doubted she would care for the arena but the statues were thought-provoking. She did enjoy the arts, as a Dibellan it was an obligatory admiration. They could traverse the museums there...
He was never going to fall back to sleep this evening.
Lucien's mind raced at the prospects of pleasing the woman in his arms. He found himself staring at her confusedly, again wondering why he allowed himself to get so lost in thought when it came to pleasuring her in senses that were hardly carnal. The Speaker acknowledged his attachment to the woman, he understood the depths and reasons of his feelings but he could not help but be troubled by them all the same. It was unwise for one in his position to be so very attached so suddenly. A great perk to her knowing of his position in the Dark Brotherhood was their honesty. So, with his confessed affection and their agreement for a partnership, he knew he had to lay some plans should he ever be compromised.
As a Speaker for the Dark Brotherhood, Lucien Lachance did not want for gold. On the contrary, he was not entirely sure what to do with his wealth. It aided in his traveling, kept him fed and made his equipment well and efficient, but that was to the great extent of his purchases. Much of his gold was hidden or simply tucked away for emergencies. Keeping a woman who relied on you utterly was a great responsibility. Should he ever fall, he would need to be certain that Abigale Lynn would be tended. Gold, lodgings, food, protection...he had much to do. Lachance had long been eyeing the mountainous region to the north of Fort Farragut, south of Riften. Perhaps it was time to put some of his needless wealth to use and build a proper house. They need not reside in it, but it would be hers if anything unforeseen should unfold.
There was much he wanted to do for the woman he had yet to sleep with and the thought made him laugh aloud at how ridiculous it all was. He never imagined being so attached and falling for the girl who had so easily dismissed his very handsome and charming self outside of the Skingrad Bakery... Likewise, who knew he could ever secure himself a Sybil of Dibella, who would have been a Countess? If anyone was so deserving, it was him, most certainly. But all the same, it was startling. After all, there was still much that had to remain hidden from Abigale Lynn.
Her accursed mother, the wench of the Anvil docks. He could spit for taking the Contract now. Did he regret ending the woman? No. The only reason he cared at all was for the fact that she was the mother of his woman. That was potentially problematic. The honesty Abigale Lynn so praised, he vowed to mostly uphold. The claiming of her mother's life was something the girl could never know. The woman was not worth a second thought to Abigale Lynn, but her mother's murder at his hands would assuredly ruin all he had just claimed. And, regrettably, it would ruin Abigale Lynn. The girl did not speak often of her mother and Lachance knew their relationship was bitter and exploitive - due to Tertia - but that hardly mattered. Peopled tended to attach to their biological mothers. Lachance himself had 'attached' to his own...for a time, so very long ago now.
Nevertheless, he vowed silence over the matter. The only ones who knew of his involvement over such a predicament, he presided over. As Speaker, he could swear them all to secrecy, and it would be done. He would not lose Abigale Lynn to loose lips and gossip. The mere thought spurred him from the bed, leaving a disoriented Abigale Lynn in his wake. The girl was a perpetually heavy sleeper until now, it seemed, as she watched him with confused fascination while he began to dress. "What is wrong?" She mumbled in question, sitting up some, quickly awakening further as she watched him go for his robes. "Has...has something happened?"
"No, I am simply taking measures to keep something from happening. Do not fret. Sleep." Growing ever more curious, the girl hesitated before sitting up further, blankets pooling in her lap. She watched him nervously, swallowing hard as he righted his hood. Her thumbs began to twiddle, apprehension surmounting as he armed himself, as was his custom.
"Don't go..." She said suddenly, voice small and eyes large. She shrank slightly as he turned to face her. He stood fully as a Dark Brotherhood Speaker and less the Lucien Lachance that she knew. Again she was falling to the old 'clothes make the man' stigma. His robes did not kill people - he did. "I...What will make you stay?" She near pleaded, causing the assassin to slowly piece that she believed him to be going out to murder. He could not help his smile, try as he may. She would assume such a thing, but he had been 'good', as the roads proved very much lacking in game... And he was quite innocent this evening, planning to visit his Family vampire for a small chat. However, Abigale Lynn did not know this, so his lopsided grin made her ever more desperate. "Please stay, Lucien. W-we can abate your tension in other ways..." She swallowed hard, looking very much out of place as the offering left her lips. Lips that were quickly pinched between her front teeth as she steadily grasped the magnitude of her proposal.
This gave the assassin pause. He regarded the visage before him, his lovely companion in the dark, wrapped in still-warm blankets. "I recall someone wanting to take a bath." He near chided, watching the girl falter before giving an attempt at nonchalance as she shrugged, small and unsure. Her little scheme, though exceedingly tempting, was quickly discarded in his thoughts at its execution. Of course, this he did not yet let her know. He strode back to her, watching her throat dip as she gulped anew, staring up at him with widely set eyes. It was amusing how very frightened she was over the simple garment he wore. Lucien knew it to be intimidating, the black cloth stained further from old blood that never faded, it's heavy and shadowed appearance as it draped over him. He wondered if he could ease her fear, even if slightly.
The assassin took her pretty face in his hand, thinking fondly of the hours they spent only kissing, silently admiring how her lips were still slightly fuller from the earlier abuse he inflicted. "You would accept me now, as I am?" He inquired in a purr, watching as her gaze darted away from him as she forced a small nod, the action made purposely difficult by his hand. Lucien dipped down to kiss her, enjoying the darkening of her iris from the shadow of his hooded form. He engulfed her, bearing down to capture her mouth again. A quick kiss, a quick taste, and he was done. "As much as your proposal is desired, appreciated, and tempting...I must refuse it. You are offering yourself in the hopes of sparing another. Such a way is not how I long to take you." He admonished before straightening. "I must go out, but not for the reasons you think. There is simply a small matter of business that I must attend to. You need not concern yourself with it in any regard. I will return within the hour." Lucien went to walk away but stopped, as the realization of Abigale Lynn's absence dawned on him. He had yet to be so far from her...
Once more, the assassin walked back with a sweet smile, stealthily unleashing a small dagger from his sleeve as he did so. This, she did not notice. Abigale Lynn shrank away slightly, no doubt believing Lachance to be taking her up on her previous offer after all. "It pains me to leave you." He said, sounding almost unbelieving at the epiphany as he again leaned down to the rather confused girl. "I would appreciate a small token for my comfort, as you have all of me here, it seems only fair. May I?" Before Abigale Lynn could part her lips to inquire, Lachance quickly brought his hands and blade up to the back of her head, painlessly severing a lock of hair. He took the bit from the base of her skull as to not uneven the look of her locks, as he quite admired the tresses as they were. All the same, the small bunch of hair looked much like a flame in his fingers and he had to stop himself from bringing it to his nose before her.
"What did...?" Abigale Lynn only stared, looking mildly appalled as she gingerly touched the back of her skull, watching as Lucien carefully wound and knotted the lock in his hand for integrity. He flashed her a smile once more.
"It will grow back, and now I can bring a piece of you along with me." The girl looked as though Lucien had just pulled a small mudcrab from her hair and held it in his hand. The sheer amount of shock was rather amusing. He laughed at her expression before turning, all robes and darkness with a bit of flame in his palm as he went to exit the fort. Surprisingly, a rather panicked voice soon followed him.
"Y-you will leave me?" Abigale Lynn called, her voice tight and disbelieving. Lachance fond her absolute fear odd but only for a moment. He had left her in the wood before, but not alone, as Shadowmere guarded her loyally. She had no concept of how very safe Fort Farragut was. He already admitted that their separation felt off to even he, but he did not want to exacerbate her fears and so sought to soothe.
"Do not fret, my dear. Rest. Nothing can get you in here...save me." He turned to give her a little smirk, finding her desperation for his protection unusually enjoyable. "You will be locked within these walls. The ruins are filled to the brim with Dark Guardians, much like the Sanctuary. Nothing will get through. Beyond them lies numerous traps. Again, nothing will get through." He reassured, soon pointing to the roots of the tree and the secret entrance as he sought to bring her further comfort. "Shadowmere patrols the area. I shall have her rest above you here. You need not worry so. Relax, enjoy your own company and know that I am not out bringing death for once."
"I-I do not think I am capable of sleep if you are gone." The girl suddenly admitted as she followed his gaze up the rope ladder. "You truly won't be long?"
"I will be back very shortly. If you cannot sleep, wander. Poke through my things, if you wish, but know you will not be happy with what you find. I hide nothing from you in here. What is mine is now yours, the same applies to me for you." He watched her shift uncomfortably, inevitably, her gaze fell to his little bookshelf. He doubted very much that the girl would snoop, but from his own experience, he knew most women to be inclined to, so he permitted it. As a precaution, he warned her of the only thing that could potentially harm her, should she somehow manage to pick the lock. "Oh, and eat nothing here. Most food you should find has been treated with poisons, serums - things of that nature. Enjoy all else." Her face converted into a delightful mix of repulsion and mortification as he turned to proceed up the ladder, finding a nearly immeasurable amount of pleasure at the timidly mumbled farewell he caught as he made his way up the rungs...
He almost turned around again to stay.
xxxx
For a time I remained in Lucien's little bed after he had left me. Truthfully, I did not know what to do and debated on staying in my current position until his return. The foreboding grate to my far right soon discomforted me to the point of rising. I knew it to lead deep into the bowels of Lucien's fort, and anything past the assassin's chambers was very much terrifying. The apparent undead denizens patrolling the halls was not something I wanted to accidentally receive a glimpse of.
I took a small candle and lit it quickly, then proceeded to stand on the once-green threadbare rug as I glanced about Lucien's private sanctum. Most, if not all of my attention, was primarily set upon the assassin in the fort, not his things or the fort itself. With Lucien away, I decided to do as permitted and poke about his things. I was not accustomed to nosiness and I felt I knew Lucien quite 'well', but he had gifted me the opportunity and I would do as offered. He had no time to shuffle his items about or hide his secrets, all was open for me to glimpse.
Yet as he had predicted, I soon regretted my decision quickly...
His bookshelf was sparse. Guides to cities and holds dotted the shelf, along with several other obscure titles and a few tomes on the deity, Sithis he worshiped. There was the book of Tenants, a list of all the rules those of the Dark Brotherhood Family followed. Beside that were some stoneware mugs and plates, along with another pair of dark leather gauntlets. All looked 'tidy' but very unused. A lightly dusted jewelry box was perched atop the bookshelf. I stood on my tiptoes to eye it better and prodded its lid, finding it unlocked and, unsurprisingly, near empty. Upon further inspection, all that resided within the small chest was some gold and a golden bracelet.
The petite bangle was a thin yet solid gold ring with no discerning design. Although not particularly elegant or gender specific, I could easily tell it had been crafted for a woman due to its small size. I took it tentatively in my hands to examine it further, soon noting the elegant engraving within. Belle Chance. I quickly put it down and stepped away, knowing fully well that I had just touched a personal artifact of Lucien's. It was unlike the assassin to keep anything he did not value. This was a token, a memento, no doubt. Unsure how to feel about such a thing, for it was surely a thing, I moved further away to the back corner of the room. I happened upon a large stone basin filled with a random assortment of objects residing within. As I looked closer, I soon discovered the 'objects' were not truly random nor objects at all, but darkened bones. I stared, both mortified and transfixed into the basin - now more aptly described as a coffin - feeling very unsure how to proceed. I did not know what to think. The assassin kept bones in his private sanctum. Bones. I longed to label them as animal but was soon keenly aware of the skull surrounded by small purple and yellow flowers.
I averted my attention and moved away stiffly, blocking all from my mind as I approached an unlit desk. I raised my candle to it for a closer look. Much like the Count's study, there were many alchemical supplies. An alembic, mortar and pestle, and a retort, all surrounded by numerous ingredients and bottled little potions...or poisons. I was surprised to see some parchment and charcoal, along with an illustration of something I could not define. I moved closer, soon making out some of the assassin's neat handwriting. The drawing was labeled. Valve, ventricle, chamber... I could not define the assassin's work and again turned my attention to another small chest near Lucien's illustration. It was oddly cold to the touch. Enchanted, I thought, and also unlocked. With the slightest touch, the lid lifted. The contents inside confused me. I stared puzzledly down at what I thought to be an unknown slice of meat, soon realizing how terribly close to the truth I was.
I looked back to Lucien's drawing, steadily piecing together what I beheld. Only after carefully shuffling through the assassin's many notes were my fears finalized. On his desk, locked in an enchanted box for freshness, he kept a heart. A human heart.
I scampered back to bed, grabbing one of the random books from his shelf in passing before burying my nose into it. I soon regretted that too, having grabbed the tome I had once glanced a month before in the assassin's pack. What I could decipher of the title, the book was called Opusculus Lamae. I remembered Lucien telling me it belonged to Vicente. I stared down at the covering as I debated reading. My eyes nervously traveled back to Lucien's 'alchemy' desk and the little cold box carefully placed and so unassuming. I had agreed to him now and I knew I was in for many more surprises from the assassin. Still, I was very much discontented and longed for a distraction. I wondered if my happening on the book Opusculus Lamae was an odd coincidence. Perhaps Lucien had yet to return it, as we very busy...
No sooner had I opened the cover and took in the first few sentences did I believe Lucien when he told me once that this was a book I should not read, as I had been a lover to a vampire. He was astoundingly right.
Translation by University of Gwylim Press; 3E 105
As brighter grows light, darker becomes shadow. So it passed that the Daedra Molag Bal...
In an instant, I regretted all that I had absorbed. My blood ran cold and the book almost fell from my grasp. Molag Bal. It was too strange an incident. My shoulder burned but I knew I could not stop reading it. I was entranced in the worst of ways. This felt to be a sign. I could not ignore it as much as I longed to. Swallowing hard, brow fixed and lips buttoned, I tried again.
As brighter grows light, darker becomes shadow. So it passed that the Daedra Molag Bal looked on Arkay and thought the Aedra prideful of his dominion o'er the death of man and mer, and it was sooth.
Bal, whose sphere is the wanton oppression and entrapment of mortal souls, sought to thwart Arkay, who knew that not man, nor mer, nor beastfolk of all Nirn could escape eventual death. The Aedra was doubtless of his sphere, and so Molag Bal set upon Nirn to best death.
Tamriel was still young, and filled with danger and wondrous magick when Bal walked in the aspect of a man and took a virgin, Lamae Beolfag, from the Nedic Peoples. Savage and loveless, Bal profaned her body, and her screams became the Shrieking Winds, which still haunt certain winding fjords of Skyrim. Shedding a lone droplet of blood on her brow, Bal left Nirn, having sown his wrath.
Violated and comatose, Lamae was found by nomads, and cared for. A fortnight hence, the nomad wyrd-woman enshrouded Lamae in pall for she had passed into death. In their way, the nomads built a bonfire to immolate the husk. That night, Lamae rose from her funeral pyre, and set upon the coven, still aflame. She ripped the throats of the women, ate the eyes of the children, and raped their men as cruelly as Bal had ravished her.
And so; Lamae, (who is known to us as blood-matron) imprecated her foul aspect upon the folk of Tamriel, and begat a brood of countless abominations, from which came the vampires, most cunning of the night-horrors. And so was the scourge of undeath wrought upon Tamriel, cruelly mocking Arkay's rhythm of life and death through all the coming eras of the et'Ada, and for all his sadness, Arkay knew this could not be undone.
I stared, flipping silently through the rest of the utterly blank pages in a mix of confusion and terror. I did not know how to properly respond to my many emotions and thoughts. I pitied Lamae, who I felt went mad, and those she set herself upon. I wondered fearfully if Molag Bal could truly walk about in the guise of a man, and quickly knew such a curiosity foolish. Why could he not? He was a terribly powerful Daedric Prince.
I regrettably thought of my terrible encounter with the Prince and realized he very much longed to defy the Nine. Any of the Nine. As Sybil of Dibella, - a concept I was still coming to grasp despite the terrible certainty over the curse - I was more than susceptible to such a challenge by the Daedra. I could feel the threat of Molag Bal, his promise to me for strength and the knowing of his wicked desire that far surpassed my comprehension. Lamae was such a symbol but for a different Aedra, and 'thusly' made to mock her deity in another way.
Arkay was the God of life and death, the cycle that graced all. Molag Bal cursed the Aedra's priestess with vampirism - with unlife - to spite Arkay. If I was such a symbol, what would my fate be? Arkay and Dibella were different Gods with different spheres. Where Arkay was life's natural circle of beginning and end, Bal defied him, mocked him with unnatural eternity. Unlife... Dibella's dominion was love, gentleness, and beauty. How would the diabolical Prince proceed with me if able? How would he mock Dibella? A burn on the face of a Goddess.
A burn on the face of a Goddess.
The Count entered my thoughts and his image made me frown. I cared for him greatly and still, despite it all. But it was he who drained and sent me to Oblivion. And it was he who Molag Bal used as a tool for my demise. Should I be attacked by the Count, I would go back and do Bal's bidding. As our terrible deal, I would be devout to the Prince. He no doubt had plans, some form of impending wrath to exact upon the next Aedra he eyed with disdain, I would be that conduit. The symbol of his malicious desire to 'best' the Aedra with the darkest of implements. Should I be dragged to Oblivion and forced to gaze upon the terror that was Molag Bal, it would be the doing of the Count.
The Daedra was wise and terrible. Why he set himself after the priestess and not myself was confusing...then I wondered, painfully, if it was more to do with the spheres of the Gods who presided over us. Love, gentleness, beauty...I questioned my affection for the Count, even then. I knew I loved him now, did I love him even then? Was it my stifled devotion of a man who did me harm a ploy to the Prince? The Count was a vampire, I was a Sybil. That in itself should have been enough, but it was not. Slowly, I realized that the Prince longed to use my affection for his vampire. Having the aspect of 'love' be a seed to my demise. That would be one of the three spheres of Dibella's domain to twist. That left gentleness and beauty.
Did Molag Bal desire to make me cruel? I remembered his promise of turning my weak body strong and shuddered. Mentally, I quoted the book: savage and loveless. I was timid and meek. What could he do to me to change this for his pleasure? As Molag Bal tended to do the opposite of the Aedra's influence, I knew gentleness would turn to violence. I wondered if such a thing possible. Beauty would be the final aspect for his corruption and I found it strangely not as terrible as the other spheres he would warp. Should Molag Bal make me what he deemed ugly, I could not pretend to be very upset. Beauty was the most burdensome thing about myself and I had long considered it my worst feature. My greatest flaw. However, this would not come to pass without the ruining of my other aspects and thus was not a thing to consider good in any form.
With trembling limbs, I garnered the strength to stand and place the book back on its shelf and stared hard at the spine for a moment. The bones and heart of Lucien's chamber were no longer so frightening. The assassin was mortal. A homicidal mortal that swore to protect and care for me. I needed this, I needed him and I needed to be away from the Count. Now more than ever, I feared the idea of return. I would not go to him willingly, as I would be walking to my doom. Should Lucien tire of me and wish to return me to him, I would run. I would run from both men and not look back. My heart would die, but I refused to.
Swallowing hard, I decided to prepare to further solidify my relations with the assassin. I knew what he desired and the knowledge made me fearful. Lucien was... unsettling. The man knew how to work his way beneath my skin. He would root out weakness just to watch another squirm. Yet with this, he was not terrible to me. He had moments of cruelty but all paled in comparison to what I had gone through with the Count, and I knew the assassin cared for me, as well. I was truly quite disturbed by the magnitude of his affection and was afraid to ponder how deeply this sentiment ran. However, there was much to the man that I appreciated or liked, and he was the greatest of alternatives. I had told him honestly what I felt and what I wished of him. He agreed to my terms and set a few of his own. Now, we simply had to make good on our ends of the bargain.
I crawled back into Lucien's bed and stared up at the roots of the ceiling. I longed for the assassin's return. I needed him. I missed my Count but could never have him again. The book had been a sign, a symbol of his impending wrath and danger. If he could, he would tear me limb from limb, something he had looked on the cusp of doing several different occasions. I wished he wasn't so cold. I wished I wasn't so foolish and fearful. I wished the assassin would return so that I may seek the strength to embrace him. All was for preservation now. I would do my best to reciprocate Lucien's affections and lose my feelings for the Count.
XXXX
Vicente Valtieri had been alerted to the sound of merry whistling. Far too merry whistling. The vampire inwardly groaned and placed down his quill, quickly returning his reports into the ledger of his room as he listened intently to Lucien's approach. A knock soon resounded against the wood of his chamber door. Not that the sound was needed in the least. The Speaker let his presence be known and plain this early morning, which was a poor sign, indeed. Poorer still was the noted absence of Abigale Lynn. Her heartbeat was not present with Lucien.
The Eliminator opened the door, his face already fixed with scrutiny as he eyed his taller, grinning Brother. As predicted, no Abigale Lynn at his side...but he was covered in her scent. "Looking for someone?" Lucien goaded, unable to miss the opportunity to flaunt his confidence to the vampire, who looked especially peeved due to his Abigale Lynn's lack of attendance.
"Yes. May I inquire as to her whereabouts?" Vicente replied, ever light despite the dangerous gleam to his ruby iris. Lachance could only grin as he invited himself into the vampire's quarters, nodding approvingly at the orderly stack of completed contracts upon the table. He flipped through them, poorly masking his devious mirth.
"She is safely kept in my sanctum. I did not force her to join me, the bed was far too warm. I myself did not wish to leave it." Lachance commented smoothly, leaving the vampire's face to twitch at his back. "However, I simply had to pay you a visit, dearest Brother. We have certain matters to discuss and I am positive that you will receive all information I have to offer you poorly." Lucien continued to stand, thumbing through documents, black gaze over the paper and set upon the stiff vampire who lingered by the door. Vicente dreaded Lachance's visit already and feared he knew the context of their impending discussion.
Vicente attempted to be equally casual and took a seat in his favored chair, noting how Lucien still preferred to stand. "Well, the only way to know that for certain is to tell me. Do go on. You have my full attention."
"Excellent." Lachance near beamed, taking much pleasure from the information he was itching to share. "To start, I have already taken the liberty of corresponding with the Hand in the matter. They are well aware and we are all in agreement, for once. I pray you to keep that in mind. Be thankful that I have elected to tell you this personally. I need not have. All has been concluded. Kindness is why I stand here before you now." Lachance dropped the papers, giving another small approving nod, pleased with the amount of completed work during his leave. Leave that he was still technically on... Leave that Vicente longed for him to literally act on. He dreaded the Speaker's dark grin and his feeling of empowerment. "Your next visit to Skingrad may not be so warmly welcomed, as you will be going alone. Abigale Lynn will not be returning to Count Hassildor."
Vicente glared but maintained his composure shockingly well. He feared such a thing would occur. Since witnessing the fast growing closeness of his Speaker to Abigale Lynn, he knew something so awful could transpire. Utilizing means only known to one as terribly manipulative as Lucien, the Speaker had secured the girl and brought her to his sway. It was as impressive as it was horrible. Vicente was at a loss with how to proceed. Eventually, the vampire managed to speak, voice clear and serene, despite his inner turmoil. "How did you manage to persuade the Black Hand to destroy one of our greatest allies for your desperate scramble to obtain a girl?"
"Oh, she is no mere girl, Vicente. Don't play coy, it does not suit you." Lachance reprimanded, eyeing the vampire, wholly feeling his Brother's repressed anger before continuing. "Janus Hassildor has proven to be an inadequate host for Abigale Lynn...a Sybil of Dibella, something that could prove useful in later days to come; the Hand realizes this to be another potential tool for our Brotherhood. A new ally, should she rise to power, as Sybils tend to do. Now, Hassildor wishes for her to be his mate, but she maddens him with her form and self, leaving little for us to do business with, as both parties clash. Our endeavor in its entirety surrounds his women. A potion to cure his old wife and a haven for his this new and very important lover. The man has far too much on his plate as is. As fealty, we shall keep her longer. Until he is well, she will not be returning. For if she went to him now, I believe it is safe for us to say that he would savagely rip her to pretty pieces."
"Perhaps he would not be so inclined to cruelty had someone kept his hands to himself." Vicente coolly countered, though in regrettable agreement with Lucien in regards to his last statement. Janus may have shown progress but he was still in no state to have Abigale Lynn before him. Nevertheless, all Lachance had come to claim was pure mockery. A poorly rationalized scheme to take Abigale Lynn for himself. The gift of gab helped him to secure the minds of his brethren. He had points, of course, but none of it really mattered any to Lucien. No, he wanted the girl... "So that is it then? She is on extended leave? You do realize that she will have to return to him eventually. You failed to secure her permanently, it seems, or you would have already stated it proudly."
"You are correct, she is not mine forever, according to the Hand."
The vampire snorted, bitter amusement surfacing as he watched the ever confident Lachance regard him coldly. Apparently, the Cheydinhal Speaker did not appreciate Vicente's expression. "Fascinating. Then what is your special gambit, Lucien? Enlighten me to the many tricks up your sleeve this time. How do you hope to keep her from the Count of Skingrad? Please, do tell." The icy stare Lucien had fixed upon the vampire remained, even as a twisted smile pulled at the corner of his mouth.
"When I am through with Abigale Lynn, Janus Hassildor will not want her back." The Eliminator paused, scrutinizing Lachance as he searched for his hidden implications. The vampire swallowed hard, steadily grasping the danger to the young woman, feeling his fixed position in the Dark Brotherhood to be both horrible and burdensome. He could say nothing to oppose Lachance. He could do nothing to defy Lachance. Lucien continued to hold Vicente with the most disturbing grin as he knew the vampire to be squirming internally. His point was made. "It is that simple. How is that for a trick?"
Vicente could not hide the desperation on his features. Abigale Lynn being in the hands of his twisted Brother was his doing all along. If something terrible happened to her, all blame would justly fall to him. He thought of the first time he beheld the young girl with his friend. Her cheeks had been glistening from her own tears as she stared down at the Count. Janus' words had been warm and kind, a tone the elder vampire had never heard from the man. Walking in and witnessing his ever lonely and tormented friend crouching before a seated little woman had been a strange but not unwelcome sight to behold. At the time, he felt Janus deserved her. He lit up at her presence. Her bashful stare would capture his attention, her laugh causing him to grin, large and genuine... Now, Janus was an absolute mess and utterly undeserving of the living beauty that was Abigale Lynn, but Vicente knew the Count's affection to be pure in regard to his love. He simply did not know how to interact. Half a century on your own did things to a vampire's mind, Vicente knew this all too well. But Janus' problem resided in the chamber beneath his manor. That needed to be dealt with...
Vicente needed to speak with Abigale Lynn. No doubt she knew of the Count's anger and was petrified at the prospects of return. Still, she needed to. Janus was a great many things, but he was undeserving of this. Being abandoned by another woman was a blow that Vicente was unsure if the Count could withstand. He had been through much and loved Abigale Lynn deeply... Vicente knew the feeling was mutual too. The girl was not being deliberately cruel, she simply longed to hide from danger. At present, Janus was that danger, but it would not always be. Lucien's current threat was certainly worrisome, to say the least. The Speaker seemed horrifically enamored with the girl, but a threat was a threat, yet Vicente could not decipher his meaning.
"...You will not harm her."
It was posed as both a question and statement, as the elder vampire lacked the capability to work tact into his words, due to shock. To the Eliminator's great relief, Lucien shook his head and sat, speaking with his normal tone but with a touch of lightness. He was pleased by his work. "No. But I do intend to make her mine. I will watch over her every part lovingly. She will never wish to go from me once she has had a taste of our wondrous new life. With my unwavering attentions, she will soon be repulsed by the very thought of Hassildor. In time, she will loathe him and I will make the Count very aware of this. I will go further too, with her agreement."
"What exactly do you intend for her then?" Vicente demanded, watching the Speaker before him as he laced his fingers and placed them upon the table, still looking perfectly natural and dark, as was his norm.
"That, I cannot divulge, as I have yet to bring my plans to her attention. However, her willingness will be required." The vampire glared, reluctantly forcing himself to tap into his Brother's energy, feeling the swirl of emotions. He latched onto his Brother's internal powers and explored his dark and wild spirit. Much akin to Janus, it was a torrent of lust and possession. However, regrettably and also much like Janus, Lucien too was wrought with powerful affection and attachment. Crooked and warped, confused, strong and eager. Wanton and desperate. Compassionate, needy, considerate and not. Tender, reckless and protective. An eternal longing for her presence... The vampire was both appalled, angry and a touch fearful as he realized, still in a mild state of shock, that Lucien Lachance not only cared for Abigale Lynn but more. He, in his own twisted way - the only way he was capable - loved the girl. The vampire wondered if the Speaker had a grasp of his own tangled intentions. It was a most serious affair.
"...You are foolish." Vicente stood from his seat, nostrils flaring, unable to keep himself in check any longer. Unsure how to appropriately display his disdain and express the sheer ridiculousness surrounding him, he only knew to seethe and sputter hatefully. "You have always had an appetite for danger but this...this is excessive. This is most foolish. It is an insult! Not only do you go against your own Family for a girl who belongs to another, but you do it behind the guise of aid to poorly conceal your lust and affections for her. The girl who also happens to be a Dibellan, as you have brought to light. You have no concept of her gifts. You know not what you are getting into with her. You are foolish to think that she will be sated by you. How do you hope to win her heart, hmm? Bloody promise and brandished blade?"
"Perhaps you misunderstood. Listen well, Brother. I am not going against our Family by any measure. I am aiding all -"
"You are aiding only yourself! You are helping yourself to a frightened girl. You are the odious alternative to what she perceives as her doom! I feel your attachment, Brother. I can assure you now that your ridiculous sentiments will not be reciprocated. She belongs wholeheartedly to another. Get that through your astonishingly dense skull before I crack it upon the stone!" Lucien's response was only an eloquent quirk of his dark brow. The rooms atmosphere soon matched the mutually cold looks from both assassins. "I...I have tried to warn you before. She is tempting. She cannot help it...But she is not yours, Lucien. She is still intended to Janus. You only prolong the inevitable. Please, try to severe this wrongful attachment. It will bring you only disappointment." Vicente tried to soften, but the damage was long done.
"I find your disobedience and the measure of petulance to your tone offensive. I am your Speaker, not some lovesick youth for you to scold. Quite the opposite." Lucien said darkly, standing slowly, all shadow, cloak and hidden malice. "I wonder, Brother when have you last eaten? You look peckish. Allow me to sate you."
If Vicente could have further paled, he would have. Lucien walked all too casually to Vicente's cabinet and produced a tall goblet. The vampire watched on as his Speaker blew some dust from its rim before placing it down on the table with the utmost delicacy. With equally smooth and controlled movements, Lucien removed his gauntlets and procured a dagger from his sleeve, meeting Vicente's stare with a lopsided smirk before bringing the blade to his wrist and severing the flesh. The clean red line wept into the goblet, flowing as sleekly as the assassin it poured from.
"I am in no mood for this," Vicente mumbled, watching the crimson run heatedly. A primal and sudden hunger for known blood screamed to him in the back of his mind. The vampire questioned then if Lucien had been with Abigale Lynn and he had somehow missed it, wondering greedily if some of her magic would pass into Lucien with the sharing of flesh, and so to Lachance's taste. He smelt of her, at any rate. Lucien's blood had proven to be strong bodied and deep, much like its bearer. It ran nearly black in color, so very dark and rich... "You seek to distract me. Why?"
The Speaker soon did a quick cast of restorative magic, knitting his skin beneath his still-bloodied wrist. He walked behind Vicente to retrieve some linen to clean the mess. "It is no game nor is it a distraction. It is a gift that I so kindly grant you...along with my condolences."
"Condolen-?" Before the vampire could finish speaking, Lachance had stealthily unsheathed his sword and brought the blade up hard, finding purchase in the vampire's side, gliding effortlessly between ribs before pushing and pinning him to the wood of the adjacent cabinet he had retrieved the goblet from prior. Vicente was not granted a reaction or sound, pain and surprise silenced him. His fangs unleashing of their own volition as he eventually managed a growl at the man who had effortlessly joined him to his furniture.
Lucien released a long, satisfied sigh. He gave his Brother a delicate pat upon his head, still hovering over the vampire with his blade held in a tight fist. "I have been good, Vicente. So very good. It is taxing to my soul. I do not relish hurting you, per se, but you require discipline, and I - release. Two birds, one stone." He gave the hilt a purposeful jerk, watching on curiously at the slow ooze of vampiric blood as it steadily left Vicente. Lucien easily imagined the blood of another undead. But his Brother then winced, still very much idle, aching to inflict harm upon the untouchable Speaker. Being alerted to Vicente's apparent - yet not so terribly important - pain, Lachance loosened his grip some. "It seems in my absence you have become rather obstinate. I am no boy. Such insolence must be dealt with accordingly. I pray you learn to mind me once more. Another threat to your Speaker and you will wish dearly that I ended you now against your fine cabinet...A thousand apologies for it, it was an exceptional piece."
Lachance did not withdraw his sword but he stepped away and turned his back to the still pinned vampire. Being a Speaker often required violence to Family members. Lucien's action were often severe, but he had not needed to inflict bodily harm on a Sibling in months now, over a year, before his recruiting of Nerah Vlando. Being an undead, extreme measures were taken against the Eliminator to force his point. Vicente would heal. Had he been mortal, the punishment would have been less harsh. But that was not the case here and Vicente's words bordered treason. One never disobeyed an order from their superior. Speakers were to be shown due respect. Vicente's personal opinions were null. And, of course, he had hurt Lucien's feelings. Lachance considered himself a tender soul. Such negative comments were unrequired. He was a Speaker, he knew well what he was doing and how to do it.
Vicente glared, hard and passionately hateful at Lucien's back before shifting his gaze to the sword hilt buried in his tunic. He took it with both hands and pulled, Lachance's renewed whistling ringing loudly in his ears as the pain made him grit his teeth. Feeling the tearing burn inside as he began to extract the foreign object from his body caused the vampire to audibly groan and hiss. He shook as the sword's tip dislodged him from the cabinet, forcing him to stand on his own once more. Vicente's cold blood coated his hands as the blade steadily came forth, gleaming and red. With a final stifled gasp, the removal was complete. He stood for a moment, caught between obedience and wrath as he held Lucien's sword in his hand. Its weight was remarkable... Its weight was intolerable.
With his free hand, he touched his steadily closing puncture, swallowing hard as his pain subsided, eternally thankful for his vampirism. After another moment of recuperation, Vicente wiped his blood from Lucien's blade upon his sullied tunic before letting the sword clatter on the table. He helped himself to Lucien's 'offering', ever the loyal Dark Brother...
Lucien's whistling stopped, he turned with a wolfish grin to see his sword clean and Vicente seated and drinking greedily. "Point received?" He cooed in question. The vampire only nodded between gulps, resigning himself to stare at the ceiling, thinking almost fondly of sparring with the boy Lucien and blooding his nose on countless occasions. He also still cursed that ever surprising left swing... "Splendid. Well, now that you have been checked, I have an order I know you will regard with the utmost severity. For it is indeed an extreme affair. We spoke once of Abigale Lynn's mother, and her death by my hand...we will never speak of it again, henceforth."
xxxx
Somehow, remarkably, I had fallen back to sleep, only to be awakened by the most peculiar sensation. I felt eyes upon me, the gaze so intense and obvious it roused me from my slumber, effectively tearing me from my dreams. I glanced about the fort nervously, peering into the cold dark. I watched the grate, fearing the presence of an undead, but none proved to be there. A sudden chill caressed me, causing me to shudder violently before pulling the blankets up and around myself further. Again I squinted into the blackness, knowing I was being watched. I thought of the terrible Opusculus Lamae and grew fearful...
The covers were violently ripped from me, causing me to shriek and near cower. A dark but familiar chuckle quelled most of my fears and kept me from leaping off the mattress. Lucien stood by my side, a living shadow to my immediate left. "It appears that someone could sleep in my absence after all. I shall admit, I am a touch disappointed by this." Still recovering, I swallowed hard, mutely rubbing the chill from my legs as I stared hatefully at the blankets in his hand. "Did you even miss me at all?"
Obtaining composure and catching my breath, I managed a glare. Having been quite used to the assassin's hatred for pillows and his particular treatment of bed linens, I had grown accustomed to being roused as he meticulously sorted all. However, he was obvious and present and in bed during such actions. Unlike now, where he simply wished to frighten me. "Y-you... I would miss you more if you did not do such things. Why do you derive pleasure from my panic? It seems counterproductive to your wishes." The assassin only smiled, still disturbingly hooded, his eyes and teeth a frightening contrast in the dark. He traveled to the foot of the bed, eyes roaming and grin still broad. I subconsciously drew my legs in closer, thinking of the fear I once knew as a girl of a monster appearing by my bedpost. Life could be amusing in a gruesome way.
The assassin only stood, eyeing me peculiarly, eerie mirth still about his features. His silent smile was very troubling, so I turned my gaze and managed to force speech again. "You seem to be in a good humor. I-I take it your business went well?"
"Extremely." He concurred swiftly, leaning forward with equal speed to touch me. As his hand fell to my knee, I considered pulling away and quickly disregarding the notion. My earlier decision believed Lucien to be my protector. In order to keep him, I needed to please him with shown and acted 'compassion and passion'. I believed myself to be ready, bath or no, black robes or no... until I noticed, even in the dark, the red tint to his uncovered skin. I panicked.
My eyes widened and I silently scrambled away further, pressing my back to the bed's headboard. There I stared and shook my head, my breathing again labored. This was my trade off. Lucien's victims or myself. Even without me, the assassin would kill. Even without me... Still, when once again faced with murder, I could not do it. I did not want him to touch me, never mind lie with me. The confusion was terrible, but I had made my horrible decision and hoped to use his tenderness toward myself to my benefit. I was no better a person than he. Where Lucien was wicked, I was cowardly. My punishment was well suited. I longed for this justice to calm me some, but it did nothing. I was still afraid.
I eventually managing to point at the bloodied appendage, still staring in utter horror as my voice cracked. "N-no. Y-you did...blood. No." The assassin glanced down confusedly at his own hand and only chuckled once more. He regrettably joined me further on his little bed. I pushed myself into the headboard hard enough to bruise my skin as he drew in ever nearer.
"It is my own. Pay it no mind." He poorly attempted to reassure, near crawling over me. I instinctively pressed my hands to his shoulders to keep him from coming any closer. He was ever solid, broad and strong... but not nearly as much as another I knew. The man I feared surpassed Lucien in every way. Raw strength, impending size, natural intimidation... Somehow, I found a fraction of boldness with this recognition. Lucien Lachance was mortal. He also cared for me, in is own way.
With this, I straightened some. "Too convenient." I glared, turning my head away from him sharply as he took my hands from his shoulders to come even closer, his breath along my jaw.
"A convenient truth, but a truth nonetheless." He purred, lacing our fingers and planting a kiss upon my cheek. I closed my eyes, face fixed with apparent irritation. If this was how the assassin wanted me, fine. What could I do, regardless? I needed him. However, and thankfully, I was surprised then to feel him withdraw, his weight shifting away. I peeked at Lachance, soon seeing the reason why he halted his actions. His gaze had settled on his bookshelf, eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "Opusculus Lamae?" He announced with audible disdain, voicing his own irritation. "Of all the books, why in Sithis' name would you pick that?" I blinked, curious as to how he knew the book I picked... "It's off by an entire quarter inch, my dear. Perhaps more. Quite obvious." Lucien wrinkled his nose but released me entirely, looking very disappointed. "I suppose I shall end my pursuits with that. I believe it is safe to assume that it would be difficult, if not impossible, for me stir arousal in you with those images dancing about your mind. Couldn't you have befouled your imagination with it a month ago?"
Unsure what to do, I eventually offered a confused nod before altering the movement altogether, giving a violent shake my head, irritated and bewildered. "You are impossible! You cannot turn around my obvious disdain on a book. Y-you were out killing! How can you expect me to harbor any desire for you with...with murder so obvious. Of course, I would not want you. I caught you red-handed!"
"Your fire never ceases to amuse. It seems to surface when you are more uncomfortable than angry." Lachance again laughed and rolled up his sleeve further, examining the crimson-tinted flesh. "This blood is my own. I paid a little visit to Vicente. He was in great need of sustenance. I aided him. It was owed."
This caused great confusion within me. I looked to the assassin for deception but found none, all the while knowing that I would never know the truth, regardless. I only frowned, still feeling defensive but unable to act upon the sentiment any further. I resigned myself to believe Lucien. I had to continue to entrust his 'honesty' to me. His words were all that truly mattered. I sighed, channeling my defeat into curiosity over the Count's friend and Lucien's Brother - the strange link in my eternal mistakes and predicament. "...How is Vicente?"
Lucien hummed in thought as he walked around his chambers, carefully exploring all that I touched, adjusting 'moved' objects with perilous precision "Moody and poorly mannered."
I looked up to the assassin disbelievingly, watching as he prodded at his organ chest with apparent dark mirth. I averted my gaze. "V-Vicente? I do not think he is capable. He is always polite, even if falsely."
Lucien scoffed as he walked back to me. "You do not know him well then. I was his little prodigy for years. Where he lacks in temper, he makes up for it with pettiness and quiet wrath. 'politeness' slips with zero grace." He began to pack some belongings, I took his movements as a sign to ready myself. Apparently, we were to leave. "Vampires tend to be terribly burdensome Masters. Quite clingy too. Always think they know what is best, even after decades. Mine proved all teeth and little bite, thank Sithis."
I subconsciously rubbed my neck at the thought, feeling an otherworldly absence, as though the Count's fangs belonged there. I wondered if he felt it too...Catching myself, I stopped immediately. "You failed to mention such a thing before." I sputtered, reaching for a dress. "Him being your Master, I-I mean."
"Hmm, you are stammering much more than your norm. I wonder if it more due to my robes or Vicente's book, or something else entirely..." Lucien regarded me with a level amount of interest before turning his attention to the common gown in my hands. "Do me a great service? Please, wear the green one. It matches your gaze." I shot him a glare which he ate greedily. "See? My fire. It flatters you already. Heated emerald stare, paired with an emerald gown."
"Where will we be going?" I asked, ignoring his comment and thankful for the distraction as I donned the article I held, not the one he preferred. It was a poor act of defiance on my part. I supposed controlling the color of my dress was better than having no control at all. "Will we see your Family?"
"No, I have decided against it. My business with Vicente has concluded for now, and I was able to get a hold of Teinaava." Lucien declared as he then procured a tiny bottle from his robe, a swirling red liquid I knew all too well winking inside the glass. "He gifts us this with his warmest regards...Too warm of regards, actually. He took a great shine to you." I tutted as the assassin came up to me, gesturing for me to turn so that he may work the buttons up the back of my gown. Lachance had a peculiar affinity for helping me dress and undress. He did all for me meticulously, as I had long noticed now. Bows straight, buttons aligned and even, ribbons without a crease, lace fringe lightly ruffled...I felt much like a doll but said nothing against it. It was almost nice to have something other than myself shown great attention. "He is lucky I was in a decent humor. I will have you know that when we resided together in my Sanctuary, I was terribly jealous of how much you and he touched."
I laughed, small and disbelieving at him. Over a month we had been together and over a month I had not left the assassin's side, apart from training with his Argonian Brother, and that had been an hour at most. "I think I have touched you more than any other person in my entire adult life. There is little to be jealous of."
"Oh? I find that difficult to believe." Lucien muttered, fingers deftly working their way up the buttons along my spine. "I was informed that your prior employer could not keep himself from touching you, and I cannot blame him for doing so. But there is no need to lie to me, as I am not consoled by it. I appreciate honesty above all things, my dear. You may tell me the truth. Did you know that I am a small bit mad? Only a paltry amount of madness though, I assure your, or Sithis would have no use for me. As such, truth does not bother me as much as the average man - great perk to a slight flaw."
I turned to watch him oddly from over my shoulder, feeling partly insulted, partly amused, and partly disturbed. Reluctantly, I answered. "Our 'touching' was few and far between. It was only towards the end when we grew close...as you can see, it did not last." The thought made me frown as I remembered cold, large hands all too well.
"It must have been difficult for him to have you without there being any physical connection." Once finished with my buttons, he tapped my shoulder with two fingers, wordlessly vying for my utmost attention. I turned and granted him it. "I have questions, both intrusive and offensive. Will you answer them?"
I crossed my arms, interested and off-put by the intensity of his stare. Of course, I knew Lucien was a 'small bit' mad. Being a Dark Brother, I believed he had to be. However, most of his off practices seemed harmless, much unlike his true self. He did things I found odd... like my dressing, the meticulous attention he paid to his blade, his tedious arrangement of his few personally items - including myself at night and how we slept, or while strolling in the day -, his disdain for pillows, his rigorous morning exercises, and the treatment of his hair. It was never down, unless being washed, something that I had yet to witness. I knew everyone had their own personal rituals, some odder than most. I myself tended to use more soap than necessary and clung to terribly dangerous men..."I suppose I will try."
"I appreciate the effort. Firstly, I would like intimate details of your actions with Hassidor. Whatever you are willing to divulge. I wish to avoid any and all of his methods, if able. Although I doubt we share any practices, it would make it difficult for you to enjoy me, should I be unknowingly mimicking your previous partner." I stared, every part of me faltering under Lucien's black stare, false smile, and his question. "Also, please, do note that I harbor an innate understanding towards you and your pain. I simply wish to avoid any discomfort in our future relations. This does not only imply sexually. With our earlier consensus, I think we have reached a point where openness is required for us to flourish."
Again, I only stared, eventually finding my voice but completely unable to remove my completely bewildered expression. "...Where is this coming from?"
"You asked me once how I am so bold and brazen. Well, it takes work, much work, and knowledge. I need to know the things I am speaking of in order for me to be secure. When I am instilled with doubt, I must act to get a firm grasp of my surroundings...this is such a play. I am quite needy, Abigale. Help me feel confident once more by answering me, as much as you are emotionally capable."
I narrowed my gaze ever so slightly as I again searched Lucien for deception and found myself quite unable. "Why are you instilled with doubt? What happened over the last few hours?"
Lucien frowned some, feigning hurt, but held a sharpness to his stare. "Vicente claims that you feel me to be an 'odious alternative' to your 'doom'... He was rather rude. I corrected him. Still, I wondered if there was any truth to his vile assumption." I mentally cursed Vicente. I did not know if he had some sort of vendetta against me or only enjoyed hearing of my woes and causing greater turmoil upon them. The vampire, whether indirectly or not, enjoyed inserting himself and his opinions about me and my situations. I considered it now to be purposeful and again swore off ever again speaking to him. Even without contact, he managed to put me in a predicament. Lucien was most certainly my alternative. I did care for the assassin and found certain aspects about him appealing, but it boiled down to him being my only other option. My protection, that I hoped to grow fond of, at least reciprocate some of his attention in time...I was trying. He made much difficult with his sadistic and bloody methods.
Wondering how to word my response correctly, I paused, then sighed. "Lucien..."
"Oh, I do so hate that tone. Never leads to anything good when discussing relations..." The assassin remarked, crossing his arms behind his back as he took a rather deep breath and straightened. His response after was utter silence as he stared down at me, waiting for me to continue. The stillness was remarkably tense. I minded my wording...I minded my wording with extreme care.
"It is a vile assumption. B-but I suppose there is a measure of truth. A small measure. I... I am deathly afraid of the Count. I see you as my protector. But I chose you. I know I could go back, doom or no, but I will not. I wish to stay with you, as long as you will keep me." He inclined his head, watching me as carefully as I watched my tone and its composition. "I-it is as you said. We are both adults with peculiar histories, we owe it to one another to be realistic in our expectations. I am just trying to be as honest to you as possible. You are the alternative, but I cannot think of a greater one. I would not choose another even if presented."
This seemed to please him, even if only by a small portion. "Not even a handsome young heir to the Empire? Gold and luxury surpassing your Count?" His mood lifted further with my glare. I decided his little jeer to be more tolerable than his earlier stillness, so I played along and let my temper flow the slightest bit.
"And lose your consideration and thoughtfulness? Never." Thankfully, he laughed some at this, but the sound grew a touch bitter toward the end, leaving me to fidget uncomfortably as I prayed for the tension to subside.
"I do hope you are not taking me for a fool. I am a very perceptive individual. We have grown close, but the closeness is mostly one-sided. This upsets me. I believe with time that more care on your part will bloom. Now, I will not change for you, but I do try to behave for you. It is difficult and underappreciated. I am monstrous, but not towards you - and you are what matters. Remember that, when you wish to turn up your nose as blood stains me. And also remember, the blood is not yours, though it easily could be...but staining another man hands, and teeth. I assume we both know who I am speaking of?" Once finished, he quirked his brow, hand resting upon my shoulder. I looked away and gave a feeble nod.
"You are no fool and you need not remind me. I appreciate you and all you do. But I cannot help wish for you to change. What you do is... never mind. I-I am sorry. I will not accept it, but I suppose I will grow accustomed to it, eventually. Please, be patient with me. I am trying to behave for you too."
It was Lucien's turn to sigh. He ran a knuckle along my jaw but did not force my attention to him. "Although I have your best interest at heart, I can openly admit that my implements to secure your happiness will be anything but cultured. You will be cherished, but never expect me to show the greater masses or anyone you care for similar compassion. Something in me lacks any and all empathy for the peoples and beasts of Nirn. I dislike all immensely and my few exceptions are dear. You are dear." I risked a glance up at him through my lashes, lip between my teeth as he continued. "You will never need to question your worth to me...nor will you need to question me, as to who I am. I will not insult you with a sheepskin. I am your Lucien Lachance; I enjoy you, strong coffee, and the feel of my blade as it pushes through flesh. Can you more than tolerate me, in time?"
I nodded.
Author's Notes: Imagine me and you, I do! I think about you day and night, it's only right, to think about the girl you love and hold her tight, so happy together~ Lucien's whistling after stabbing, maybe? XDXD Told you, Speaker dominated chapter. I'm trying to convey Lucien in his role as Speaker and his 'feelings' for our spineless Abbeh! We all know, according to Gogron, that Lucien is ruthless. He is in no way a prince charming. A twisted, charming, murderer, but no prince... R&R please! Now Lucien has to go return some video tapes.