Author's Notes: You are all the best...like wow. Your reviews just blow me away every time. Never apologize for them, big or small! They get me excited to write, to piece this story together further, bit by bit! Like I said a million times before, this whole fic has just sat around in my head for years. I'll write some, get busy and stop...but I really don't want to stop, and I'm pretty sure you readers have a lot to do with that! XD Thank you all again for the constant love, sex scene appreciation, and speculation! XD
WARNING: This chapter is rated M. for Sexual Situations. You have been warned.
Love or Blood
Chapter Sixty-three: Kindness
xxxx
At some point, I had drifted off to sleep only to be roused by a pair of lips touching mine. I groaned, feeling thoroughly bewildered as Lucien continued to kiss me, chuckling lightly as he did so. When I roused further, I beheld him back atop of my body. He hovered over me, his hands wandering and mouth moving sensually against my own, my lips moving with him instinctively, even if the execution was exceedingly sloppy. I whined, realizing that he had been touching and kissing me for Gods knew how long before I had awakened. My whine turned into a confused groan and I moved my head away from him, hands going to push at his chest. "Wha-? What are you doing?"
"Demanding your attention." He mumbled against my cheek, sounding so very pleased and smug as he did so. "You fell asleep on me. It was insulting...Who knew being on the other side of neglect could make one so humble?" His hand went to my throat, fingers creeping to my jaw as he lightly attempted to coax my mouth back to his. I was awfully disturbed by his methods of awakening me and refused him.
I scoffed, though small and not so harsh, and again tried to push him away. I was tired, it was not yet morning. Outside of our tent was dark and quiet, the only sound to be heard happened to be the assassin's ruffling of linen as he shifted over me. "Neglect? We went to bed. Sleep is what normally follows." I protested, voice still muffled from my half awakened state. I was too tired to be bewildered but I was certainly off-put enough for it to show plainly on my face.
"You poor, sweetly ignorant child. So deluded in your innocent imaginations." He continued cheekily with another soft chuckle, lifting my dress as he did so. This woke me considerably, face contorting. "Allow me to correct you..."
"No!" I squeaked, pushing my gown between my legs. I was baffled. Lucien wanted again. I felt it was much too soon. Perhaps an hour had passed us, at most. The aches of my sex had yet to subside. I was not prepared, physically or mentally. I did not know if it was normal to do such a thing so frequently. If it was, I was quite mortified by the prospect. I was not ready for him again, not at all. "Y-you just...We just did that. It is too soon."
"Is there an allotted timeframe that I am unaware of?" He countered smoothly, though still holding his usual mirth. Lucien slipped his hands down my arms before taking my wrists and pinning them over my head. My heart began to race. I missed the warmth of sleep, but his eyes made me also miss the warmth of him. Still, I would try to remain firm in my dismissal and hope he would heed me. "You cannot truly wish to deny me. I consider myself a strong man, Abigale. However, presently, I am willing to beg...You should be very appreciative."
"I do not want you to beg." I glared, giving my arms a futile tug. He grinned at my efforts, removing one hand to smooth back his hair, keeping me pinned with a single grip, flaunting his strength over me. I was very unimpressed. I knew I had little to no physical strength and did not need a reminder, not even a playful one. My gaze narrowed further. "Take your pleas elsewhere."
Lucien nodded approvingly, his eyes darkening the slightest bit, his face contemplative. "No begging on my part, hmm? The other side of the spectrum then. I suppose I could simply force you. Ravish you..." In an instant, I went rigid. His free hand lovingly stroked down my side, his grin wolfish. I did not know whether or not he meant those words...or if it could be considered force, for as I stared at him, my pulse quickened for reasons that had little to do with fear. Still, I gulped as he leaned down to my cheek, his whispered words ruffling the messed hair by my ear. "With your secret consent, of course. I could love you brutally, but not without passion or consideration. I only require a yes."
The assassin began kissing and teasingly nipping at my jaw and throat. I worried my lip as I wondered if this was normal. I felt the terrible desire flood into my belly with all the force of a dam breaking. It was so very peculiar to be pulled by the slightest of gestures and Lucien's dark suggestions. Did I want the assassin? No, I did not. But my body seemed to be utterly pulled by him. It was greater than temptation. It was a nearly insatiable want. My fingertips began to tingle as I leaned myself the smallest bit towards Lucien's mouth. Regrettably, I did enjoy how he worked his lips... "I...I prefer if you were not so brutal...I like passion better."
Lucien pulled back, his smile broadening and knowing. "Is that a yes?" He asked me in a purr, both his hands falling to my hips, his fingers flexing along my skin with anticipation.
I swallowed hard, a light blush creeping to my cheeks. He had brought me great pleasure alongside many more regrets. It was terrible, but I supposed his bed skill was a perk to being with him. Lucien Lachance...I did like him, perhaps cared for him a small amount as well. I did not love him. I did not think I ever could. His work was the stuff of nightmares. However, he was now my protector and companion. I would need to accept the good and the bad. The good, being how he could move his hips.
I wetted my lips and watched his mouth. If this was one of the only escapes I was to be given, I would take it and hope I did not get too hurt in the process. "...A secret one." No sooner had the words left me did his mouth fall again to mine. His grasp on my hips tightened as he pulled my groin to his. I tried to release my thoughts but soon remembered the pain from our earlier union. I winced at the memory of having my lower half suspended in the air for him. It was not the most uncomfortable of feelings, but I did not want him to again roughly handle my now aching womanhood. "C-could we...try something else?" I squeaked against his kiss, attempting to watch my wording. I did not want the assassin to think I did not enjoy what he did to me, I liked it very much. I simply wanted something less strenuous on my sex.
"Certainly." Was his remarkably delighted reply, followed by him flipping me crudely onto my stomach. I gasped as he lifted my dress up, his arousal still shockingly warm as it pressed against my bottom. Both of his hands slipped beneath me, one to my sex, the other wrapping around my neck. Even with a loosened grip, I did not like his hand at my throat even more than the placement of his erection. I mumbled a protest that quickly died in my throat as he again began to work me, using his mind-numbing and terribly wonderful skills to effectively seize my compliance. I was physically ready for any and all of his desires in moments. Mentally, I was still far off and detached from myself. All was for the best.
Once satisfied with my state of arousal, he guided himself to my sex and again began the torturous plunge into my womanhood. With my legs being closed the sensation increased, my already sore sex ached, causing my eyes to water. I buried my face into the mess of blankets and whimpered and groaned, cursing my body's natural resistance as he steadily sheathed himself within me. One hand returned to gently massage me, the other parted my hair and slipped down my chemise, pulling it below my shoulder. His mouth soon closed over the revealed flesh as he began moving his hips. I chewed my lip, all sounds stuck in my throat as I tried to grasp the sensations. Such a position never occurred to me. I realized how terribly naive I still was. There was much I did not know. Lucien was my teacher... and I did regret that. He was good and skilled and practiced and wonderfully talented with everything carnal, but I did not love him. I tried to tell myself that it did not matter.
As his pace quickened, he worked a fist into my hair and pulled my head back. I yelped, his mouth finding mine and swallowing the cry. I could feel myself building, nearing completion. The combination of his touch and thrusts was unbearable. There was again too much heat and sensation to my already tender flesh. With shameful quickness, I climaxed. Whining and whimpering, my hips developing a mind of their own, thrusting back into the assassin, the motion like the rocking of a wave, forcing a groan from him. I shuddered, body weakened and taxed. Lucien slowed his movements before stopping altogether. He held us there for a moment, almost as though collecting himself before leaving a trail of kisses up my shoulder and neck, stopping at the corner of my lips, his smile twisting along my cheek. "You, my dear, are easily excitable."
Lucien chuckled while planting several more kisses to my fevered flesh. He then lifting his body, removing himself from me, the action causing me to gasp. He laid on his side and pulled my back to his chest, taking my leg in a hand, fingers embedding into my thigh. Again I gulped as he aligned our bodies. "Do let me know if this proves too much for you." He said far too smoothly before entering me anew. I yelped and gripped the blankets, allowed him to usher me into bliss once more...And again, and then again, several hours later.
XXXX
The Count paced before his roaring fireplace, feeling much like an animal prowling as he did so. It was midnight, perhaps a small bit later when he felt it - that final crack in his Abigale Lynn. She broke. She broke down and accepted another man. Invited him inside her with all the hesitance a hare would welcome a fox into its burrow. Janus could feel her pleasure and would swear he could hear her cries. He was angry, near blinded with rage that ran white-hot in his cold veins, burning him internally with all the intensity of the sun. He would bleed fire if a blade ran across him, and it was this fire that he channeled as he rang the bell to the Maids Quarters once more as he summoned his sword from atop its perch.
He was purely lethal when Hal-Liurz entered his chamber. The Stewardess blanched at the sight of the Count, cloaked and with a sword in his hand. She stared, at a loss for words as his blade slid into his sheath. "I will be taking a short leave. I won't be away for long. I expect all work to be handled accordingly. Upon my return, I want all to be as if I were never gone."
"Yes, my Lord." She said tightly, eyeing him nervously and inquisitively. "May I ask -?"
"Where am I going? Certainly. Somewhere near the Imperial City, I have gathered that much." Janus answered dismissively as he adjusted his cloak and scabbard. "I am bringing her back to me, Hal-Liurz. I am done. I am wholly done with all of this. She had her freedom, she had her little affair. Now, it is time to come home to me." He said through gritted teeth, pocketing some essentials for his journey. The Stewardess shook her head.
"Sir, you cannot drag her back here -"
"To oblivion, I can't!" He snarled, rounding and glaring daggers at the Stewardess. Hal-Liurz only stiffened the smallest bit at the flash of his fangs. "She is mine to do with as I please. I shall drag her back by her pretty hair if I must, but drag her back I will. She will forgive me with the passage of time. This is what is best for us both." He nearly snarled, looking purely crazed. Frenzied. Much like a wildman...or a vampire..."She belongs here with me. No one else. Me... And I need her back here now."
"Y-you let her go to show compassion!"
"I said I am OUT of compassion, Hal-Liurz!" The Count shouted, though not sounding entirely angry, but driven. Madly driven. "I have told you this before. You cannot understand what this is doing. I feel her. I feel everything about her. Lust, fear, sadness, regret...I know what she is doing and why she thinks it is right to be doing it, and it is gnawing at me to take action." The Count calmed ever so slightly, running a hand through his hair to help ease his unending fire. "She is only with another man now out of fear. I have terrified her to the point of insanity. She is acting on impulse, doing what she thinks is best. I need to set all straight. I must make her see sense. I am the best thing for her, as she is for me! And If she can forgive me for ending her little affair, then I can forgive her for having it. I will welcome her back and it will be as though all our turmoil never was. We shall start anew, be warm and kind once more."
The Stewardess took a deep breath and fought to be firm. Handling the Count was never easy. Truthfully, the man could not be 'handled' at all. He was much like a wildfire when angered. One could only avoid the path of destruction. However, Hal-Liurz knew by the Count's words that much of his actions - stupid and ridiculous actions - were driven by heartache. He truly did love the little Abigale Lynn and had he known the proper way to go about retrieving her affection, it could be a warming realization. However, anything that happened to be mutual was eaten up in Janus' rage. The Count angered easily and his temperament proved violent. Directing that at one so innocent and young had its repercussions. Abigale Lynn was also very much a slave to their Count, so the power he held was more than daunting. The Stewardess thought the girl's actions wise if viewed from the perspective of a naive youth. So, she spoke carefully, hoping to ease her way into the Count's thoughts, rather than force her opinion. He never reacted well when posed an idea that countered his own. "You frightened her away and now you intend on dragging her back. How will this help? She still has time. Let her be gone for the promised duration, please."
Unfortunately, the Count only shook his head. "No. I am not going to sit by and allow this to continue. I am leaving. Her fear will fade with time, and that is one thing I happen to have in abundance. It may take decades, but I will wait for it to pass. Love will follow." Janus again turned, glancing at the clock before bringing his attention back down to his Stewardess, eyes ablaze with ambition. "When I return, I want all of the documents raising her station to be at the ready. Hopefully, that will calm her some."
"It will not." Hal-Liurz countered swiftly, meeting the Count's gaze and remaining firm. "What you are doing is wrong and you know that it is wrong. I ask you again to leave her be. That is true love. Let her choose to return to you."
"She will choose wrong, and I am not permitting such a mistake...I appreciate your concern for her. Know that I am doing the right thing...Be well, in my absence." Was all the Count said before giving a brief nod farewell and sweeping from his bedchamber, then Castle Skingrad altogether.
xxxx
Walking the Imperial City was torturous. The market was loud and bustling and every part of me ached in the most terrible and delicious way. My cheeks remained a constant pink, fearing that somehow all of Nirn knew what the assassin and I had done in the woods. Riding to the Imperial City had been particularly awful. Despite Shadowmere's smooth pace on the road, the soreness had been indescribable. I tried to hide my discomfort from the assassin and kindly declined a potion he had offered me, mostly because he looked so very proud of himself while brandishing it.
Shopping proved agreeable. It was very different walking with Lucien now, compared to our first trip. Although I still clung to him, I did not loathe him and fear him...at least, not as much as I had before.
My mind raced as we walked, reliving all I had done with Lucien Lachance, and the bitter truth that in a month's time I had formed some strange relationship with the killer. I thought of the Count, my mind drinking in his features greedily as I did so. Knowing I would never return to him now numbed me. I no longer knew what to do with my feelings of guilt, fear, and yearning. All was far too confusing. I could not help but miss him, in spite of all, and my betrayal crippled me. I walked, talked and spoke to the assassin, but my heart had crumbled. I could feel the Count's anger. His confusion and his own ache. I knew our emotional bond was still terribly strong and this maddened me.
When Lucien touched me, my body went wild while my mind fell into a chasm of darkness. Nothing existed but him and sensation - his touch and my response, his kiss and hands. I myself was tossed into a warm void, surfacing once completed only to feel dread for hurting another's heart with my infidelity. He felt me. The Count felt all. His response was no different from his norm. Pure anger. I was deeply afraid that he would somehow rain the very fires of Oblivion over my head. Another part of me hoped that he would hate me so. I wanted him to no longer love me. I wanted him to despise me and not wish me back, as Lucien had said...but I did not feel that from the Count. Of all things I could define in the fleeting impressions of magic that I did not understand, loathing was absent. It was quite contrary, and it frightened me more than his anger ever could. I did not know if this was simply my guilty conscience, however, and so I did not tell Lucien of my fear.
Instead, I tried to distract myself with the assassin's words. His voice was rich. Dark honey. He was very pleased with our closeness and readily spoke of us as a union. We. Us. Together...I tried to enjoy it. I tried to find comfort in him. In his way, he wanted my happiness, even if it was his idea of my happiness. Truth be told, I did not mind this so, as I had not given my own life much thought. I did not know what I wanted, so I would settle for his plans and hope to find fulfillment within his dreams for me. It was not so bleak. He enjoyed my flourishing and made good on his promises. If not for his murder, he would be a good man. Perhaps a truly honest one...
I tried to be grateful for all I was given. I needed to appreciate the small gifts of life and all I was supplied by the assassin. With Lucien, I was granted many opportunities. I needed to remind myself of all he helped me to achieve and enjoy. There was much and I needed to find comfort within it. I settled my attention on all the little things and tried a smile. Lucien Lachance was not a good man but he was good to me. It was important.
Within a matter of hours, all of the ingredients on Melisande's list were purchased. The assassin and I were quick to leave the Market District shortly after, Lucien grinning ear to ear as we did so. His change in demeanor was near comical. Although he was still very much himself, he looked more of a happy man. He kept gazing at me, his smile positively charming. It made my blush worsen, and when his fingers traveled my hip, I would shudder. It was a very strange. He did little tender things too, like kiss my hand and stroke my hair. These were things that were normal occurrences for him, however, his touch lingered now. All was far more delicate and warm.
Lucien purchased us the very same room in the very same inn, preemptively. After the witch's goods were carefully hidden there and locked away, we again left the inn and wandered the City. The assassin whistled merrily as we left the Market District, arm wrapped around me, hand stroking as we walked.
"Lucien, where are we going?" I finally inquired, looking up to him, finding the sun shining off his brown hair to be oddly charming. I focused on it and the sun. Two beautiful things I needed to appreciate.
"I am taking you to the Arcane University, my dear. I have some pull there and I am going to attempt to use it to give you access to their library. It is quite impressive." This caused me to blink, surprised that Lucien considered and now wished to act on such a notion. Having lived near the Mage's Guild chapter of Anvil, I had heard many things about the inaccessible library. Knowing that I could possibly glimpse something many never have was extraordinary. I could not even attempt to imagine its grandness. I smiled, small but genuine.
"We do not have to..."
Lucien patted my head, chuckling slightly as he did so. "I shall interpret that as a 'thank you'. We must work on your manners, Abigale. Although..." He grinned and leaned down to my ear as we walked, his voice dropping to a whisper. "You are terribly polite when I am inside you." My cheeks turned a darker shade of scarlet as we wandered the city but I said nothing. The awful truth was that with such a comment, small and not so innocent, thoroughly ignited my desire. We had been together so many times in the woods that I had lost count. I confused dream and reality, as he would wake from a sound slumber to take me again. It was a disorienting bliss, the fatigue from our activities carved in the bags beneath our eyes. Shameful, wanton, and exquisite. I may not have loved the assassin but my body certainly did.
We eventually wandered the great bridge that led to the Arcane University. It was a baffling sight. We stood in the small garden entrance as I took all in. The University was a tall tower, grand and imposing, raised on a large stone platform that encircled the building in its entirety. Purple mage lights in their pits dotted the perimeter. Red banners hung along the tower's length, brandishing the Guild's signet. A wall divided the visitors' allotted area from the actual school. Another lofty structure, a grand rotunda, could be seen through the twin iron gates, along with more stone buildings and the many Mages who resided in them.
As we ventured closer, I watched the assassin, who seemed quite at home with all the grandeur. He felt my stare and looked down to me with a knowing little grin. "It is a remarkable visage the first time. However, it does get old. Needless luxury, my dear. The true wealth resides beyond those enchanted gates. You will see soon." I nodded and inched the smallest bit closer to Lucien, feeling all to be a bit overwhelming. He welcomed me, holding me to him as if I was a most prized possession. I did not mind.
Entering the first building, we stood in a remarkably dark room. Several benches, a long desk, and multiple display cases were all that the chambers held. On the floor and off in the corner, a glowing circular pad bearing the University's symbol emanated obvious magics. Although the furnishings happened to be sparse, all was of exquisite quality. Richly embroidered gold and emerald colored rugs and tapestries littered the lobby floor and walls. It made the partially empty space appear far more lavish. I stared at all for a moment before bringing my attention to the room's only inhabitant. An Imperial Mage, clad in green robes befitting of his station, a scroll in one hand and a quill in the other as he leaned against the lone desk, looking purely contemplative.
Although the Mage did not bother to glance in our direction upon entering, Lucien's little whistle certainly grabbed his attention. He startled some before setting his quill and scroll aside, a largely false smile appearing on his face. "Well, if it isn't the Reaper himself. Welcome. I do hope you are not here on business, friend."
Lucien's smile twisted to the blatantly false greeting. I was surprised that this Mage had rather extensive knowledge of Lucien. 'Reaper' hardly seemed a normal nickname... "Had I been Raminus, we would not be talking. And I do hope we are not being overheard by others? Should I get caught from your overly boisterous tone, I may have to hurt you."
The Mage, Raminus, went from an olive-toned Imperial to a remarkably pasty one. "I...no, there is no one here but me. How can I help you?" The Mage mumbled before quickly composing himself. The obvious submission was astounding. I knew the Dark Brotherhood had a very high reach, but knowing it extended to the Arcane University was puzzling. I had to wonder why no one did anything. I did not want any trouble to befall my protector but I could not help but muse. Lucien was an assassin. Why not call the guards on him, should he threaten? Was there no proof? Or were the repercussions from the cult far more deadly than an offhanded deal with one of their members?...
I answered my own questions.
"Oh, I have a small need that I am certain you could assist me with. I simply require access to your library." Lucien began, again his usual charming self and not so threatening. He then pulled me from him the slightest bit, hoping to make my apparent presence more obvious. "Access for two, for the day."
The mage rubbed the back of his neck nervously, his gaze shifting about some. "It is difficult for me to slip in one of you. Two is...well, I am afraid it is impossible." The assassin's stare turned cold, his fingers dropping on my shoulder steadily as he regarded the very apprehensive Mage before us.
"Make it possible then." He said with false merriment, his gaze fixed on the rather rigid Imperial. "You are a mage - benders of matter and magics...bend." Without another word or thought, Raminus straightened and marched over to Lucien and I purposefully. Lucien leant out his hand, palm up and open as the mage muttered a quick incantation, his hand hovering above the assassin's. Soon a glowing emblem of the Universty's seal radiated brightly in Lucien's palm before vanishing altogether. The assassin smiled. "Good. Now her."
He turned to me, pulling his gaze from Lucien's stare and to my own, faltering the slightest bit once our eyes met. "Oh, hello..." He mumbled, eyeing me with particular interest, an interest that the assassin quickly tapped into.
"Manners, Raminus. Do get your jaw off the floor and produce your magic." Lucien snarled, the sudden darkness towards the end of his tone causing both the Mage and I to jump in unison. Raminus opened his mouth to retort but resigned himself to a shake of his head and gifting me with an apologetic look before beginning the very same incantation. After several attempts, his brow steadily furrowed, his curiosity towards my person renewed. He turned my hand several times, looking more and more puzzled as the moments ticked by.
"I am trying but I cannot...hmm, how very curious." The Mage muttered, his hazel stare meeting my own once more with tenfold interest. "You are already a member?" I glanced to Lucien, his dark brows quirked. With extreme hesitance, I took a small step back from this Raminus and dared not answer. I was no member of the Guild, Lucien and I both knew this. The Mage pouted, again looking very curious. "You need no pass, you already have entry. May I ask your name?"
"Her name is Abigale Lynn." Lucien answered swiftly, watching Raminus as he regarded the assassin and my name with a scholarly interest.
"Now that does sound familiar but I cannot ever recall seeing you here. I know I would surely remember you..." He trailed off for a moment and stared at me once more. His face soon contorting to a strange recognition. "You would not happen to be the Lady Abigale Lynn of Skingrad, would you?"
Unlike my usual silence, a strange unintelligible stammer escaped me as I quickly backtracked to the assassin further. Lucien came to me quickly, his falsely charming demeanor again in play. "The one and only. We prefer to not flaunt such a status...for obvious reasons."
"Ah. Well, Count Hassildor has written about you in great length. Your beauty is certainly beyond compare. I do hope the Evoker status is more than satisfactory to yours and his needs, my Lady." The Mage continued, but his expression changed soon, almost sympathetic in nature. "It...it is good that our ties with Skingrad shall soon strengthen. I...Congratulations. I have worked with the Count for many years and know much about him. You are a brave and wonderful lady. Skingrad is an... unusual place. Truly, you are befitting of a Countess to see through the Count's unique nature."
I only stared, utterly dumb and mute as Lucien continued to speak to the Mage casually. Soon we began to move and were granted access to the entirety of the Arcane University. There was much at my fingertips. Books, magic, knowledge...but my mind was utterly black. I was somewhere else entirely. I was back in Skingrad.
XXXX
Lucien did his best to encourage her. He whispered words of comfort that seemed to bounce off of her shoulders. They wandered the University, poked through countless books and scrolls and poured over all things she claimed an interest in. She would crack the smallest of smiles, give the most clipped remark before falling again into her mind and woes. Lucien cursed Raminus Polus for his blabbering mouth. Abigale Lynn had fallen inside herself. Fear and sorrow.
Together they practiced some magic, strengthened her restorative abilities and walked through the gardens. Eventually, they left and Lucien glared daggers at Raminus' back on their way out, finding the willpower to not sink an actual dagger in his spine...
The assassin would openly admit that her woes grated on him deeply. Her capacity for affection towards the Count of Skingrad was baffling, indeed. Lucien was human - despite his bloody desires and thoughts at times insinuating otherwise - therefore, he knew well of certain mortal pulls. As an assassin, a Speaker, he was quite remorseless and cold. However, as a mortal and mostly stable male, he too was prone to certain behaviors, should he be wronged. He reacted one of two ways. The first, he was utterly indifferent and could not care less, should an outcome fall to a less than satisfactory standard. Such things happened, as was life. However, his other reaction...well, when sufficiently wronged, he often left a trail of bloodied bits of whatever or whoever evoked his wrath. Again, such was life for the Speaker.
Abigale Lynn. She was purely delicate work. Much like a contract that required the utmost precision and diligence, proper working and implements were to be taken. It was a precarious balance. Meticulous. Too much pressure and she shied from his hand like a beaten animal. Not enough pressure and her mind again wandered off into another plane of woes that made up her existence. It was pitiful, but he reveled in the tedium and constant struggle to win her. And win her he did. For she was surely his now. His golden statue of loveliness...
They wandered back to their inn room, where Lucien was able to effectively stifle some of her distress with more pleasure. He would not pretend to know how to cure her of her wrongful attachment to Skingrad, so he did his best to distract her. It had worked and together they were lost in a tangle of limbs and slick flesh. It was purely extasy. Although greatly inexperienced, Abigale Lynn was gifted with a natural ability to bring pleasure to herself and her partner. Tasting her skin drove him wild. The lightest brush of her lips had him on the cusp of release. The sway of her hips was madness. The tightness of her sex bordered painful. His name on her breath as she panted and sobbed in pleasure was a song...
There was nothing on Nirn in comparison.
Taking her under a black sky had been poetic and he longed to do so again. The night was picturesque, cloudless and cold. By the camp's fire, she looked to be made of gold. Her hands above her head, hooded emerald eyes, and flames for hair. A goddess of heat and desire, all for him to enjoy, tend and keep. He cherished her, all of her beautiful features and haggard soul. He wanted her constantly, in ways that were not so carnal and difficult to understand. He needed to bring her joy, pleasure, and comfort. He needed to bathe her in the blood of her enemies and bask in the gratitude that would surely follow...metephorically, of course...
As night soon fell, he convinced her to walk with him through the Arboretum. She agreed and thankfully seemed to be a bit more of herself after their union. Sex had a medicinal effect, it seemed. He felt it too. He had lost count of the times he had her, but it was never enough. He loved her every inch and curve and would live within her, if possible. He left little marks on her neck and chest, small brands. His little marks. Seeing them on her paleness gave him completion. He loved it. He cared for her greatly. She was all his and he would endeavor to make her happy by whatever means. Even means she had yet to agree with...they would be happy together, he would ensure it.
xxxx
We wandered the Imperial City Arboretum at nightfall. It was cool and quiet. I steadily calmed myself over the passing hours of the day and strove for normalcy. With the assassin at my side, all felt very surreal but...tolerable. Decent. I repressed my sorrows and tried my hardest to ignore the feelings of remorse inside of me. I needed to stop my thoughts and again focus on the very small but important comforts.
"Which statue would you like to see first?" Lucien asked as we strolled by ivory columns covered in thick tangles of ivy. "There is quite the selection here. We could visit Dibella. I owe her thanks, you know..." I ignored him, fighting a sneer at the mention of the Goddess and glanced around, having much difficulty making out anything in the dark. If not for the occasional streetlamp, there would be nothing for us to see. As I stared up at the soft orange glow of light before me, an image of a terrifying figure came to my mind. I glanced at the assassin, remember all too well my first encounter with him. Oddly enough, I smiled. Small, bitter and happy.
"How did you do it?" I asked, glancing up at the lamp we presently stood beneath.
Posing such a random and vague question caused Lucien's face to contort a small bit. "Pardon?
"The light." I pointed, filled with genuine curiosity. Distractions were good for me, and this was a true interest. "When we first met, you turned a light red...others you extinguished completely. How did you manage to do that?" Lucien looked struck by the memory and smirked down at me. With the slightest snap of his fingers, the light above us changed to a blood-red color, the hue causing me to recoil. He flipped up the hood of his cloak and grabbed me, the action causing me to jump.
"Unholy Illusion Magic, my dear lady." He grinned, his voice dipping to an ever lower timbre as he pulled me into his shadow for a kiss. I allowed it but pulled away fast before he could hope to deepen the touch. I worried my lip and slipped the smallest bit away, finding his ever locked gaze comforting and terrifying. The red light above our heads reminded me of danger - the danger that was Lucien Lachance. An apparent requirement for my preservation. "You hit your head quite hard when you fell. I would have healed you...had you not attempted to kick me in my very precious endowments."
"How lucky for you that I missed," I replied with an air of cheek, gulping at the darkening of Lucien's look. Distractions were indeed good and desire proved my only escape from reality, but Lucien's desires seemed endless. Regardless, aches and pains and my natural fear for the assassin mattered not. No. The only thing that mattered was life, protection, and pleasure. I would come to accept this truth with time. I had too, for the sake of my very sanity.
"How often do you visit the Imperial City? Do you know it well?" I asked randomly, backing further and further away from the heatedly staring Lachance. Like a magical magnetic pull, I could feel his desires. I tried to mimic him in his greedy and nearly insatiable lust. It was not a difficult task as it burned in my belly too. I again wondered if it was normal...perhaps the passion of a Dark Brotherhood Speaker could prove dangerous if not sated...I would taunt no longer unless I intended to give.
"More than I would like to." He easily offered, eyeing me like meat. I continued to move away from him, standing before a large column. The assassin wetted his lips, fingers flexing as he watched me. His ever black stare held me by the pillar. I would accept him again, should he want. It pacified my other burdensome feelings. "There is no one here but us, my dear...well, one person, but I can dissuade them from lingering. Some beggar...After that, perhaps I could have you among these beautiful flowers?"
My heart raced with nervous anticipation. I swallowed hard, eyeing the deadly sword attached to the assassin's hip. I knew I needed to specify to keep the bystander living. "O-only if your blade remains unbloodied, Lucien."
"I can spare some coin for the infirm." Was his reply, a smirk chasing across his features before he turned away to shoo the only possible observer with gold. Once he had stalked off I sighed and leaned against the pillar I stood by. I stared up and into the night. With my distraction gone, all regrets flourished once more. They bloomed inside of me like terrible, poisonous flowers.
With the assassin off...I wanted to weep. I closed my eyes and allowed my own self-hatred to flow. I cared for the assassin. He was mostly good to me. He cared for my comforts and interests, he took great care of my needs and more. Lucien wanted me to be able to stand on my own and at his side. He nourished my body and magic with sensuality and cunning. He made my flesh feel alive. Pleasures like I would never have imagined emanated between our union...but I was not there. I was tossed to the wind of all, cornered in my own heart as I clawed at the man who moved inside of me. Who cared for me...why did I reach out in my very soul to the other man who wanted my death?
I told myself the heartache would come to pass. It was normal...but my pining was not. Skingrad would be my doom. Lucien was salvation. A dark salvation that consisted of sex and blood...but love was absent. I wondered if I would ever know it again and why I had so vehemently denied it prior. Or, more depressingly, had I ever been given a choice between the two apparently essential aspects. Was there even a distinguishing line in the matter with the men I chose? Was one more important than the other, in the end? Love or blood? Was it all simply preference? Was it all the same? If viewed from another's eyes, could an onlooker tell me what was truly best? Was I wrong for leaving the Count of Skingrad? Or was Lucien the hero for taking me from him? Was I the villain of my own story? Who was in the wrong...or had there never been a right at all?
The Count of Skingrad. Did we ever have a chance, or was all pure folly? Could a slave ever be loved as a person? Had I not been a slave, would it have ended differently, and why did I care for him so? The facts did not matter to my emotions. Why? I did not know why I clung to the Count, even after swearing to not return. I longed for him and his ways. Lucien was better for me, but the Count had won my heart. The man who had a mind to kill me twice had won my heart...and I dared refuse a murderer? No longer.
In time, I hoped, albeit bitterly, that Lucien Lachance would win my heart back, should he truly want it, by whatever means he deemed. I would welcome him, in all of his bloody and foul ways, for he cared more for me than anyone else I knew and showed it in his actions. He thought of me and my wants, even if his desires were overpowering and selfish and deadly. No one else ever had cared or considered so... And that was why Lucien Lachance had won me...and yet I wept at his victory.
XXXX
She was there. So very beautiful and so very there. His Abigale Lynn, bathed in the soft blue moonlight of the Imperial City Arboretum gardens. She leaned against a pale column, almost matching it in hue, her gaze towards Atherius, eyes shining brighter than all the stars in the sky. She was unchanged, so young and lovely and it made him ache. He brought himself so very close, cloaked under a hefty spell of invisibility and stared. He drank in her every feature. Her scent. He missed her so...
His Abigale Lynn, so pretty, so sweet. He was taken, taken so swiftly that all emotion left him but longing and need. His heart ached to beat within his cold chest at the sight of her flaming hair as the wind ruffled it gently. The flush of her skin as the cold nipped her nose and cheeks almost brought him to his knees. She was the epitome of loveliness. She was his light in the darkness, his little hum through the quiet...and she was weeping silently into the night.
Janus had stormed his way to the Imperial City. Biding his time in the Tiber Septim Hotel until night fell upon the Empire. He then tracked his love like a bloodhound, finding her among the largest garden of Cyrodiil. He never thought to have his anger wrenched from him so. It was almost as though a magical entity reached inside of his chest and pulled all his blackness away, leaving nothing but his old pain, loneliness, and his Abigale Lynn.
He stood utterly motionless, a foot away perhaps, and watched a crystal tear slide down her cheek. Her eyes searched the heavens for answers to questions Janus felt would be impossible for him to fathom. For weeks, he had felt her pain, the pain he had inflicted. Now, he was to witness it once more and her quiet killed him. She looked confused and so very wronged. Bitter and dejected. But the most worrisome part was the emptiness that Janus could feel. There was a void in her now that she endeavored to fill, almost as though it was a sacred mission. She quieted the rift of her soul with carnal pleasures - a mortal coping method...and Janus wondered if he was to blame for that too...
'Your passive behavior and lack of action makes things worse for us both...What little patience and tolerance I have are wearing thin. It would be wise of you to rethink your coping strategies.'
His own words echoed, a literal taunting jeer to his taxed reserve. It seemed Abigale Lynn had taken his advice to heart and implemented new means to cope with her sorrows. She adapted in the worst of ways and it was all his doing. Everything was his doing. He had changed his Abigale Lynn, the girl he loved for all her shyness and strangeness, and that innocent gaze and warm heart. He had changed all of these qualities with cruelty. Her stare was devoid of emotion, aside from bitter confusion and hopelessness. Her shyness was replaced with strategy. Her strangeness became rigid.
Janus longed to reach out to her. He wanted to grab her, pull her to him. He needed to end their pain, but how? What would he do? Take her by surprise, drag her to the shadows and confess his love? Beg her to come home? He wanted to so desperately...
The fear inside of her still swelled, all directed at him and all his ilk. He had tortured her. Abigale Lynn looked so broken now and all was on his shoulders. His burden. His blame. It took witnessing his little love out among Tamriel to realize this. Even with another, she was torn, her soul ragged. He once thought her spirit to be sewn together crudely, and he wanted to lovingly tend to each thread. Seeing now that he had again shredded the girl before him was indescribable. He had done so much wrong. He had broken his word, her trust, his vows, and so much more. He had contemplated atrocious deeds, he had killed her...
But he loved her.
She was with another now, Janus could feel his influence swim within Abigale Lynn. This man's energy was black and cold, but his Abigale Lynn longed to accept him. Janus looked over his love, her neat clothes, her healthy pallor, her clean hair and hands...this man tended to her meticulously. Lovingly. This man of death and doom cared for his Abigale Lynn. Janus could even smell the detect life magic that the other had implemented to watch his love whilst he walked to the other end of the Arboretum. This man protected and watched over his Abigale Lynn. Of course, Janus was without a heartbeat and could not be detected, but Janus was no threat, and so appreciated the implement.
This man...he loved his Abigale Lynn...and his Abigale Lynn wanted to love him. She held herself back and away, fearing her Count. Her Master. Her love. She wanted happiness, and as Janus stared at his little servant and friend, he wondered if she had ever known such a feeling. Real happiness, without fear, obligation or blame. Janus swallowed hard, his soul aching as he reached out to gently touch her cheek, wiping away the one stray tear with his cold hand. The girl immediately startled and stared through him, her gaze settling on nothing, for she could not see him, and that was the best he could do for her.
Abigale Lynn searched the blackness curiously. Perhaps she could feel more than the briefness that was his touch. It mattered not. Janus loved his Abigale Lynn. He hated what he had done to her. He wanted her return...but he wanted her happiness more. He did not want her to cry for him any longer. He wanted her to smile...even if it was at another man. And so the Count stepped away from her ever curious gaze. She was beautiful in every aspect of the word. From her spirit to her features. Her little nose, full lips, blushing cheeks and long dark lashes. By the Gods, she was beautiful. She had made him so happy. Just looking at her could make him happy...
'You are still just a baby.'
'I like to think of myself as a young woman, Sir.'
'You are a child to me...I cannot let you go.
'What do I have to do?'
Love me. He thought defeated, stepping away from the still staring woman. He would wrong her no more. He loved her too much. He loved her to the point of madness, for it was surely insanity that forced his body to take another step away with his hands tingling and aching to embrace her warmth once more. He would never relinquish his mark, he would be there, should she need him. And if she longed to love him, he would welcome her back...but he would not force her return. He expected no longer. He loved Abigale Lynn and he would love her forever.
So he gave her one final stare, one long look, trying to forever burn her image into his mind. He thought of her laugh and smile. He would cherish those memories. His eyes bloodied and he turned away bitterly. He did not possess the capacity to hurt her. He had done enough. Pure love was not selfish, and he had never known such a truth until he forced himself to leave his Abigale Lynn in the garden.
He loved Abigale Lynn and he would love her forever.
xxxx
"...Sir?" I whispered, staring out into the empty Arboretum. My heart raced. For the faintest moment, I thought I felt the Count. I did not know why or how I recognized such a feeling as him, but I did and it was strong. I tentatively brought my hand to my cheek, where a tear had vanished from a brush of cold. I was torn between fear and longing. I pulled myself from the pillar, wondering if I should run to Lucien or to the strange lingering sensation that faded with each breath I took. Was he near or was it all in my mind, a manifestation of guilt? My own confusion muddled my reason.
I wondered if the Count had come to exact his revenge, yet I stared, unmoving and waiting for him to do so. I swallowed hard, yearning to see him, even should he be readying himself to hurt me...
"Who are you talking to?" Lucien's voice cut into my thoughts, causing me to stumble and fall against the pillar I had moments ago leaned upon. He eyed me, then our surroundings, his hand falling to the hilt of his sword, brow furrowed as he scanned all. "Who are you talking to?" He repeated, much more forcefully, gaze still sweeping over the darkened garden. I only shook my head, my chest rising and falling rapidly from my fears. For a moment, I thought of telling Lucien of my imaginings but quickly decided against it.
"I-I I thought I...I don't know."
The assassin carefully righted me and gave me a quick examination, his brow steadily quirking. "I am really quite surprised that you have not yet fainted. What has you so on edge? You must tell me, or else I cannot aid you properly."
Again I shook my head, forcing myself to babble, almost incoherently. "M-my imagination. I-I thought I...heard something."
The assassin did not look convinced but nodded tightly and pulled me to his side. I had difficulty grasping all around me. From Lucien to the stones, the flowers, and stars. I felt tossed in them all, a whirlwind of colors in my inner panic. "We will return to our rooms, then." I nodded to him, grateful for the decision to leave made for me. My mind continued to race as I followed Lucien. I wondered. I could not stop wondering. My blood felt pulled to another direction entirely. I wanted to stay in the garden and run from it all at once.
Eventually, we arrived at our inn, but the feeling never left me. I sat on our bed watching as Lucien made no move to undress. Instead, to my dismay, the assassin reached into his bag and pulled his black robes from them. He donned them quickly, hood up and weaponry concealed. I did not dare say a word against him as he did so, my thoughts everywhere, as were my feelings. I only looked at him, resigning myself to the knowledge that someone was to die by my protector's hand. I wanted to again weep from sheer confusion and bitterness alone, but I had run out of tears to spare.
"Remain in this room," Lucien commanded, his words not unkind but firm. "Someone other than myself has taken a liking to you, it seems. I am not so incompetent to have not noticed. I pray you heed me and stay locked within this chamber. I will return once the problem is resolved."
"Lucien..." I called to him weakly. The assassin turned to me. He looked as though I was interrupting him. I supposed I was. Death was his business and I was holding him back. "Could you not stay with me instead?"
He regarded me for a moment, his lips pursed before he gave a small shake of his head. "Hmm, no, my dear. Someone has been watching you...but you are mine to watch." I opened my mouth, an appeal dying in my throat with Lucien's raised hand. "Before you counter, ask yourself - do you deserve to live in the shadow of fear? Fear of man? No. And as long as I am here, I shall make it so you will not feel so hunted. If someone wishes to gawk, I shall take his eyes. A fitting disciplinary action for his lingering stare. Messy and slick..." I blanched as he gave me a little pleasant bow before he quickly turned, his mind made and ready for murder, humming to himself in thought. "But so very satisfying...Befitting. I will return, shortly."
With Lucien again gone, I stared at the door, wondering what to do once more. I glanced about our familiar room, thinking oddly on the first night the assassin had forced me to sleep by his side. All had changed in the most bizarre way. I fingered the messed sheets from mine and the assassin's earlier union. It was so very odd. A strange circle of events that folded neatly, much unlike the blankets I held. My literal hunter turned my protector, my previous protector turned villainous...
I tried to feel the Count, but all was lost in a haze of my own emotions. Nothing came cohesively.
As time steadily ticked by, I realized that I could not sit by and do nothing. Perhaps I had gone mad, but I felt that the Count had been there in the gardens, and with all my fear and shame, knowing that I was utterly foolish and idiotic...I wanted to see him. Just glimpse him. So I stood and left the room.
xxxx
The streets of the Imperial City at night were as terrifying as I remembered. I hugged my cloak to my chest as I wandered the familiar path back to the Arboretum, toying with the small Skingrad emblem all the while. My mind was frenzied. All thoughts and emotions came strong but fleeting. One moment I moved with purpose, the next it was a fight to take another step. I did not know why I wandered back but my feet continued to move. I did not know what I hoped to achieve, nor did I know what I would find - if anything. Regardless, I walked onwards towards my goal.
I had felt the Count. Whether the touch was pure lunacy, the imaginations of my guilty heart manifest, I knew not. But to me, he had been there and I needed to know why...why had he not harmed me. Why had he not shown himself?
I considered myself utterly mad as I stalked on, hardly conscious of my surroundings until I heard footfalls from not far behind me. I did not continue walking, I did not turn around. It was the Count. It had to be. He had lured me out and now I was to face him alone. I swallowed hard, chancing a look over my shoulder to the impossibly large silhouette advancing. I strained to remain unmoving as he approached. I closed my eyes and readied myself for anything and everything, knowing I was fully deserving of his wrath now. I had betrayed him. "I-I am so very sorry, Sir."
He did not give me a response. Instead, I was grabbed by the scruff of my neck and lead into shadows, soon pinned to a far wall, hidden beneath a little alcove. His roughness was astounding. With my cheek to stone, I bit back tears and accepted his anger. His hands ran up my sides clumsily but with ample force. Still, I foolishly leaned into his hands that pawed at my clothes, almost as though the act itself was instinctive. I posed no argument. I did not resist him in the least. I had run from his wrath for so long and had grown weary of it. I could not run forever, so I sought him out, bitter but ready and deserving of his punishment.
He soon turned me away from the wall and my heart leapt. I longed to see his handsome face, even when twisted with anger. I was ready to welcome him in every aspect, in any of all ways as I was finally able to face him. To see him. I missed him...
...This was not the Count of Skingrad.
My blood chilled as I stared up and into the face of a stranger. The steady realization that this was not the Count, nor a man I knew froze me with confusion. My mind had been so gone. This stranger - I had never seen him before. His eyes were a pale blue, hair a tousled auburn, his expression a mixture of curiosity and revulsion, as though I had wronged him. He was interested in my response to his touch and regarded me with all the insane curiosity one with wickedness in their heart could. I wracked my mind, feeling that perhaps I did meet this man. Did I somehow hurt him and simply forgotten? His eyes were surely mad...But no, I did not know him, I decided that definitively, and as I saw the dagger in his hand, I knew it was intended that I never would.
No screams would come as I was too shocked to be solely frightened, too astounded to understand. As he pulled me to him, hand gathering my dress and blade to my nape, I wondered if this was to be my end and could have laughed at the irony, had I not been so petrified. I chased a phantom into the night in hopes of punishment or answers and received instead a random attacker. It was the cruelest of fates. It was purely ridiculous. It was as I was accustomed to. I lived to be wronged, it seemed.
I posed little struggle, still very much bewildered over the extent of violence that was intended for me, and how random all seemed. As his blade bit into my skin, I choked down a cry and tried to push him away. I failed, and the stranger came at me once more, his arm raised to strike me, face contorted with further anger. I readied myself for the blow, covering my face with my arms, peeking through their gap...but was never struck.
The man quite suddenly wrenched himself away, fully extricating his body from my person. I turned my gaze from his fists to his expression, my breath hitching as I recognized the dark-leather gauntleted hand that had clamped over the stranger's mouth. Surprise etched in my attacker's haggard features, his blade cutting through the air wildly for a moment, his movements off and jerky. A strange gleam caught my attention from the odd flailing and I lowered my stare, alerted to an unexpected yet familiar blade peeking through his chest; which vanished and returned again and again, in rapid succession as strange, strangled cries were caught and muffled by leather. The man's dagger dropped, his body twitched newly until the blade vanished once more, and this time did not return. The stranger crumpled, falling much like a weighted sack to the ground, dropping into a puddle of crimson turned black by the night.
I stood rigid, staring down at my now limp attacker, still very much confused and frightened. Carefully, I inched the smallest bit back away from the reaching pool of gore as it stretched to the toe of my shoes.
"And so goes another to the Void. Oh, my dear Abigale, why did you not heed me?" I turned my attention to the voice, to Lucien Lachance. The assassin stood, all shadow and gleaming sanguine blade. I swallowed hard, steadily absorbing the little spatters of blood along his cheek. Lucien's expression was vexed, his dark brows furrowed, black eyes boring into mine, light age lines accentuated from his deep frown. I could not answer him, I was too shocked, frightened and ashamed. The silence stretched, and the longer he stared, the harder the look became. Vexed turned livid, his fixed gaze soon penetrating my very soul. When he spoke again, his voice had dropped so lowly, yet it managed to match the sharpness of his blade. "You deliberately defied me...Why?"
Still, no words would come, despite me willing them to do so. I again stared down at my limp attacker, my senses in an uproar as I felt myself pale. He had been alive and angry moments before...now a droplet of blood rolled lazily from his parted lips and onto the cobblestone, his blue eyes so very confused and yet unfocused...
Lucien stepped over the body and I flinched away on impulse. He took my face in a hand, turning my head from one side to the other as he examined my features, expression black as his gaze. His stare soon fell to the little nick of my throat, before returning to mine with more anger rekindled. "You are lucky to not have suffered worse." He sneered, glaring at me before managing to compose himself. "I am beyond curious as to what madness drove you to the streets of the Imperial City, and after all you have shared of your suffering here...but now is not the time for talking. We must leave."
Lucien took my hand and forced me from the wall. In a haze of colors, coupled with the sound of my own heart hammering away in my ears, we fled. The assassin knew the streets well, and we wound our way back to the inn, unseen and silent. There I was ordered to go inside and collect our things. Moving by command and numb to all else, I did just that and returned to the shadowed Lachance who again led me through all the alleys and corners of the City, until we were outside of it once more. By a tree, he whistled for Shadowmere, who so ever loyally showed in moments as if appearing from the shadow, as Lucien claimed her to have done so long ago.
It all unfolded so very quickly and soon the City was far behind us. I watched it grow smaller and smaller until we dipped into the trees and it vanished from sight completely.
After riding for some time, Lucien halted Shadowmere by a stream. He dismounted silently, his anger still apparent as he walked to the water. I debated on remaining seated, all still so very fast and frightening, but even if livid, I did not want to leave the assassin's side. I carefully dismounted Shadowmere and tentatively joined Lucien, who had begun to dowse his face.
I approached him silently, twiddling my fingers nervously as I did so. Lucien did not turn to me but beckoned me closer with the slightest gesture of his hand. "Well, my dear? What madness claimed you this time?"
Swallowing hard, I watched his back. I could have lied, I could have said anything to the assassin to pacify his questions for my stupidity, but felt I owed him the truth. He had saved my life...he was truly my protector. I was foolish to go out looking for someone so dangerous. I had Lucien. I needed no more. "I thought I felt the Count." I blurted, the words making my eyes burn with fresh tears that I quickly blinked away. Lucien turned slightly to watch me, his calculating gaze causing me to gulp and falter. "I...I-I don't know why but I just thought he was there and...in the garden. I wanted to...I didn't..."
"You thought the man who has a mind to kill you lingered in the flowers, so you went out in search of your doom?" The assassin scoffed before rising. "I never knew you had such a death wish."
"Neither did I."
Lucien's stare narrowed as he squared his shoulders. "Your could have been killed. No matter how miserable you think your life to be, it is not something for you to take for granted."
I nodded, hugging myself slightly. Still feeling so far away and detached from all. "I did not mean to do so. I only -"
"Enough!" The assassin snapped, causing me to jump. His expression was stern, eyes gleaming with determination. "I grow weary of your permanent wrongly-directed devotion and this pitiful state. Enough. You are a full-grown woman - act it. This ridiculous pining for a dead man has run its course. I will not be second to one who claims their love for you yet longs for your end. If you so wish to die by a man who loves you, here I stand! Give me the say so, and I will end your suffering here and now and bring you your heart's desire."
My lip trembled as I stared up at Lucien Lachance. His threat rang loudly, but it was not his threat that shook me so, but his words surrounding it. He was right. I should not be so attached to another who had done so much wrong. I should not run off in search for a man who's motive I knew not. I should not have gotten myself into such a position tonight. I should not have done many things. Mostly, I should not have taken the assassin for granted. I offended him deeply with my constant obvious affection for the Count, yet it was Lucien Lachance who cared for me, my needs and comforts. He saved my life tonight, despite being in the business of taking many. I had greatly wronged the assassin...who had just professed his strange love for me in the deadliest of ways.
I looked away, swallowing bitterly at my own behavior. It was not the assassin's fault that I was so torn, nor was it his obligation to tend to me as he had. I was ungrateful. I had resigned myself to leaving all of Skingrad behind. In its stead, I had Lucien. I needed to appreciate him and accept my decision. I needed to. He was a horrible man that was good to me. I had known a good man who turned to treat me so poorly. I was no more a decent person than the killer I stood before and I had to stop thinking myself so better. I had lain with a murderer, cared for him...the blood that stained his hands now smeared mine, for I knew what he did, I needed his skills...I was a terrible person. Perhaps worse than Lucien Lachance. For I was a leech and without him, I was nothing and we both knew it, yet he did not look down upon me for my cowardice.
"I am sorry." Was all I thought to say after a moment of mentally writhing beneath the assassin's stare. "You treat me well...I treat you poor. I am so sorry, Lucien. I did not realize..." I looked away, truthfully, I did not realize. I never thought the assassin cared for me more than he had already confessed. He did care and so much more than I would have ever imagined him capable. I was far too busy thinking of another..."I wish I had something better to say to you. I-I will endeavor to stop all of my...my foolishness. I see now how dangerous it is...and how hurtful it is to you." He continued to watch me, softening the slightest bit, but still so very stern. I fidgeted, feeling genuine discomfort for my disregard to the assassin. "I do not know what else to say. I do care for you. And I-I wish to make this better. How?"
Lucien walked over to me and reached up, gently touching my face with a wet glove, the very same that muffled the cries of my attacker, the leather that held his last breath..."By giving me my owed compassion. I asked for an agreeable amount of warmth, not for you to let me bed you and whilst you run off in your mind to another man. I will be second no longer. I want complete and utter acceptance, Abigale. No more Count Janus Hassildor. You chose me. So be mine."
I nodded stiffly, trying my hardest to lean into his touch, as I had leaned into the stranger's, whom I thought was the Count. Lucien's hands took life, but they took life for me.
The assassin startled me some by turning my head. I stiffened, gathering his intent. Lucien's hands worked at the little clasps of the diamonds the Count had gifted me. He removed them with startling swiftness, something I now discerned that he had longed to do. I stared at the jewels as they rolled beautifully in Lucien's dark-leather gauntlets. My mouth had gone dry, I felt terribly naked and guilty. They could have been clumps of dirt, but they were gifts to me from the Count and he had warned me not to remove the gems...
I wanted to stop the assassin. I wanted to tell him no, I wanted them back...but I said nothing as Lucien tossed the diamonds into the dark stream. The gentle sound of them hitting the water made me choke down a sob - a cry so soft that even Lucien could not hear it. However, unfortunately, the assassin did not stop there. He took hold of my cloak's fastener, the little Skingrad emblem, and popped it off with a harsh tug that caused me to stumble forward. It too went into the water.
"Anything else about you that is a product of Skingrad? Anymore 'symbols' of his affection and ownership?" Lucien asked, his voice almost taunting - or my spiteful mind perceived it that way. Regardless, I shook my head. "Good. Then it is done. The path to freedom is a painful one, my dear. It is not easy, and I have warned you of this over a month ago now. You will forgive me for shedding you of your ornaments, I am sure. I can purchase you whatever you like to replace them. Prettier and more expensive baubles...though we both know that your trinkets' coin value meant little. But we must remember the principle, my dear. You could not keep them."
"You made that perfectly clear." I lamented, eyeing the stream, tempted to search for my removed possessions.
"Hmm, yes...much unlike these waters, I am afraid." Lucien smiled darkly, following my path of vision. Once his gaze returned to mine, his harshness lessened some. He patted my head before placing his hand upon my shoulder. "Let us usher along your forgiveness. I am not in the proper state of mind to see that witch nor fight a vampire that is not of my choosing. So, let us take a small vacation. Name a place and we shall go to it."
"Any place?" I asked as I eyed the steadily flowing waters and the swaying grass along its bank.
"Whatever you desire." He agreed, thumb moving in slow circles over my collar bone. I swallowed hard and tore my gaze away from my sunken sentiments, forcing my stare to be firm and words meaningful. Lucien had once told me no over my desired location, but given the circumstances, I did not think he would deny me it any longer.
"Take me to Anvil."
Author's Notes: SO tired... I have no words. Goodnight all! XD