Author's Notes: All of you rock! Your speculation pleases me XD I hope to vaguely answer some questions without giving anything away in its entirety. As a warning, this chapter does have a significant amount of Lucien violence. We can't forget who or what he is now can we? ;D
WARNING: This chapter is rated M. for Sexual Situations and Gore. You have been warned.
Love or Blood
Chapter Sixty-four: Anvil
xxxx
It took little over a week for the assassin and I to finally reach the Gold Coast. The air warmed considerably, smelling sweet of long grass and salt from the Abecean Sea. We mounted a tall peak in the road that overlooked the horizon. The hills of Anvil County rolled lazily over the land. The grass was thick with patches of green but mostly pale-yellow stalks. The waters were crystal off in the distance. Colorless and shining, the sea was a reflection of the sky and both melted seamlessly together in image. Nestled in all, bordered by water, strips of land, and massive jutting stone sat Anvil - my birthplace.
I held the assassin all the more tighter as I stared down to the steadily growing city. For years now, I tried to not even think of my old home. Now, I went to it upon request, feeling a mixture of emotions all the while. With each hoofbeat, we grew nearer, and I grew more apprehensive. So much had happened in five years time...I did not know what I would be returning to. I thought of my old family home and feared the thought of its front door. I still had yet to decide on visiting my family. Perhaps I could glimpse them from the shadows and be satisfied with that. It was better than my poor explanations and introducing them to Lucien Lachance...
We eventually made our way to the stables and I had to steel myself as I looked up to the large doors of Anvil. I swallowed hard once we dismounted and wandered over to the entrance. I watched the assassin as he rolled up the sleeves of his tunic, deliberately turning my attention from the slowly opening gate. Soon his hand fell to the small of my back and I was ushered into the city by Lucien with deliberate force. For the most part, the assassin and I were very much back on decent terms. I forced myself to be more accepting of him and again blocked out thoughts of the Count in their entirety...at least, as much as I was able. Lucien's insatiable lust for myself was a successful distraction. However, tolerating his steadily darkening proclivities was the problematic aspect. Despite enjoying all, I was having much trouble keeping up with his appetite...
My thoughts of all vanished as soon as my eyes fell upon the tall tree that centered in the middle if the town. A thousand images of sitting beneath it in the shade and watching the leaves sway assaulted my mind. I blanched as I eyed the very bench my mother would sit upon while I played at her feet.
Feeling suddenly very small, I gripped the assassin's arm and stared down at the intricate paving and masonry of the roads and walls. All was so familiar that it was frightening. I remembered leaving everything behind more that I remembered living among it for years. I questioned my reasons for coming to Anvil, wondering if perhaps all was just another foolish mistake on my part. However, Lucien was having none of my trepidation and forced me to walk at his side as we moved to the large tree of my childhood. "You wished to be here so desperately," The assassin began, wrenching my fingers from his arm and forcing me to sit on a bench. Once I was successfully detached, he straightened and folded his arms over his chest. "And now we are here. Are you not satisfied, my dear? Will we be enjoying our time here or no...?"
"I only need a moment." I protested, understanding his irritation for my sudden quaking. It was I who pleaded to be taken to Anvil in spite of Lucien's opposition. He reluctantly agreed, so my current display was most detestable. Still, it was all so...unreal. "This is so much to absorb. Can't I have a moment to collect myself? It has been years. This is so strange to me."
"Sometimes I think you are a masochist." Lucien scoffed, though not unkind as he too joined me on the bench, reclining back leisurely. "I cannot pretend to understand why you wished to come here. Especially not after all you have told me of your childhood. We are not here for happy memories." He walked fingers up my shoulder before pulling me to him. I leaned into his body, now warm and familiar - from his scent to the hard contours of his defined physique, all was pleasingly familiar...perhaps how I had hoped Anvil to feel. I was saddened to find that it did not.
"No, not happy memories. Still, they are mine." I sighed, staring upward as I had done so often as a child. I relaxed as we sat, slowly finding comfort in the assassin. It seemed my protector was even greatly adept in guarding me against myself. He had done so now countless times by words, touches or other clever little distractions. My interest locked to him. It aided me. And once I slowly recovered and carefully took in the rest of my surroundings, I pouted at the looming branches overhead. "...This tree seems so much smaller now."
Lucien chuckled, his hand running up and down my arm. "You were a child then, Abigale. Everything appeared larger."
This caused me to frown. I pulled my gaze from the tree above to examine my hands. Indeed, I was no longer a child, but I did not feel wiser or stronger, as I had always believed adults to be. I felt very much the same. It was a strange thing. "I suppose..."
"So, how long must we stay in this heated Oblivion until you are satisfied? I cannot say I know much here that is pleasurable to do." The assassin wiped some sweat from his brow and reclined further, looking as though he was ready to nap right in the center of town. His words and manner calmed me and caused me to smile. There was much I longed to do as a child but was never able to enjoy, due to circumstance. Now, I was a woman, and with Lucien Lachance by my side, I felt the possibilities were endless. I did not need to be so apprehensive. Although I still questioned seeing my family - as I feared the union to be too painful and confusing - there was plenty else I missed and longed to see.
I stood and took one of the assassin's hands in both of my own and tugged lightly, trying to coax him into standing with me. "I know much we can do. Let us see the beach and the lighthouse. We can walk the shore and later go to the inn. Please?" Lucien smirked up at me and begrudgingly stood. His smile turned genuinely kind, despite him reaching up to pinch my cheek.
"As long as you do not turn into an incessantly pleading child. Lead on, my dear."
XXXX
Vicente Valtieri rested upon the hard slab of his chambers and stared up at the stone over his head. Over the passing weeks, much had transpired, much that he had not planned for. A little over a week ago now, the elder vampire felt the first terrible joining of Lucien Lachance and Abigale Lynn, the entirety of their union echoing loudly in him. Apparently, the Dibellan's potent magic and sex traveled through Vicente's and Lucien's connection with startling intensity. Abigale Lynn progressed along every magical hold and sense one marked by a vampire held. It almost knocked the Eliminator off of his feet. One moment he was speaking to Nerah Vlando, the next he had gone rigid by sensation alone.
He could hear her, smell her, feel the joys Lucien felt as his hands traveled her skin, the soft echo of flesh in Vicente's cold hands. It had nearly crippled the vampire. Knowing that her magic spread and divided not only to Lucien and himself but Janus as well was...embarrassing. The intimacy the two had felt was not their own and was greedily enjoyed by the elder vampire and loathed by the Count of Skingrad. Vicente felt sufficiently perverse over basking in their union so, but it was quite impossible to ignore. Try as he might, he could not stifle the terrible and wonderful magic that was a Dibellan's touch.
Vicente's Speaker was avaricious in his desire for the girl, and the elder vampire could not blame him in the slightest. The joys were otherworldly, even when felt by the magical echo. Vicente could not even fathom how actually being with the girl felt. It seemed too good to be comprehensible.
Regardless, along with their sex, his Speaker's feelings did surely strengthen for the Abigale Lynn. There were many emotions and strange sentiments that also traveled along their bond. Much was extraordinary, many unusual and wondrous sensations and whispers of thought. It was remarkable. Lucien Lachance was capable of the oddest things. His usual violence in the bedroom was blessedly stifled. Although still very much perverse and dark, he felt things for the girl, there was emotion to their joining. Not all was done of pure desire, it was also a connection, both physical and emotional. This left the vampire equally stunned. Lucien Lachance's love was twisted, but it was love, nonetheless. That in itself was frightening.
Still being rather disgusted with his Speaker, Vicente was glad over his absence. After being stabbed as a disciplinary act, he was still a touch sore - no pun intended - and was anything but looking forward to Lucien's return. However, a small part of him wanted the Imperial back, for Abigale Lynn would be joining him, and Abigale Lynn was no longer bound to Janus Hassildor...
The Count had written to Vicente. He spoke of his anger, his misguided anger and great shame over his actions. Mostly, of course, he spoke of Abigale Lynn. He felt her care for Lucien, just as Vicente felt Lucien's care for Abigale Lynn. The Count, who apparently loved the girl far more than Vicente would have ever dreamt, decided that he would not keep her from genuine happiness, should she find it in another male who treated her well. Janus Hassildor, with all his faults, was a good man who genuinely loved his little servant. He claimed his love to be unconditional and unending, and wanted it to be known that should Abigale Lynn long for his companionship, she would be welcomed.
Vicente was to pass this message along to her. Although not relinquishing his mark or ownership, he vowed to give the girl as she desired. Whether it be his embrace or that of another man, she would have it. He kept his mark and ownership as a piece of her. Perhaps it was for pure sentiment, perhaps it was a form of protection, or perhaps it helped delude the Count that she was his...it mattered not. What mattered was Janus' love for Abigale Lynn, and Vicente hoped with all his little, blackened heart, that once this message was received, Abigale Lynn would return to the Count of her own volition. After all, such a step on the Count's part showed great compassion and mental stability. Vicente wondered if he was finally ready to receive the lovely Abigale Lynn...only after months of having been apart.
Greedily, the elder vampire had hoped the Speaker would have kept the girl in their Sanctuary. Vicente had wanted to be with her. He wanted to get to know her...Innocently. She was captivating and intriguing. Now, he very much doubted such a thing to occur in their near future, as the pretty girl would not so much as speak to him. Abigale Lynn still felt very much betrayed by the elder vampire, and Vicente could not blame her. Although things may have turned our 'alright' it was he who designed her leaving and put her through the discomforts she had faced. It was no secret that she hated him for this, and although bitter, the vampire knew it to be just.
Regardless, Vicente needed to bring word to Abigale Lynn of the Count's newfound pledge of love, freedom, and loyalty but knew not how to do so. With Lucien Lachance having thoroughly staked his claim, such a thing would be difficult to bring to her attention.
Another more problematic aspect in all was the dividing factor, which happened to be Abigale Lynn's long dead mother, Tertia. Should she find out that the woman died at her newly anointed lover, she would assuredly rejoin the Count - which is what Vicente Valtieri wanted. In spite of his own selfish interest in the girl, a vampire's territory was an important thing, and the Count of Skingrad happened to be his friend of over forty years. He wanted the man happy. He wanted the girl happy. He hoped them to find this happiness together.
Only Lucien Lachance now stood in the way, and oh, what a problem that man could pose...But the secret of Tertia could be the solution.
xxxx
The assassin and I eventually wandered to the beach. All was beautiful as my memory had served, but very much different. As we strolled along the dock, sailors did not jeer with the large Imperial by my side. Nor was I afraid to stray too close to a ship or crate, out of fear of another striking a random conversation. With Lucien Lachance's hand upon my hip, all kept their distance and allowed me to enjoy the salty sea air as it whipped through my hair. It was remarkable and I appreciated the assassin's presence greatly as we wandered through the reeds and out of sight.
Slipping off my shoes once we reached the sand, I relished its warmth and the coarseness of grain, fighting not to simply collapse into the white granules. The waves, though steady, were loud as they lazily rolled onto the shore. The reeds and warm grass all gently swayed along in time with the waters. It was beautiful and I was transported to my girlhood before all had darkened so. That time had been brief, the memories themselves fleeting, but they were mine to cherish, no matter how sparse or faded they were now.
When I eventually returned to Nirn and peeked one eye open, I was alerted to a smirking Lucien Lachance. With folded arms, he watched me bask in my own thoughts and sensations. I smiled up at him sheepishly before gesturing to all that surrounded us. "Is this not beautiful?"
"I have never cared much for all this sand, though I can appreciate the breeze." He confessed, nodding in approval to the expanse of sparkling waters, warm sands, and lush fauna. "Also too hot for my liking, but I can admit that the water is agreeable. Did you swim in it often as a child?"
"Weather permitting, every day." I grinned as we inched our way more towards the shoreline, walking the familiar paths of my childhood. "One must not stray too deep though. Far too much dangerous sea life if you venture out beyond the rocks." I sat in the sand, bunching my skirt beneath me so that my toes could be kissed by the cool waters as I thought oddly on all the things I had feared as a girl. "Mudcrabs are not so bad here but there are plenty of giant slaughterfish and sharks."
Lucien's expression puzzled some as he regarded me curiously. "Sharks?" He questioned. The assassin had admitted sometime before of his dislike for deep waters. I was not surprised that he was unfamiliar with the beast of the Abecean. They seemed to favor the coast of Anvil. I was unsure if they could be found elsewhere, although this I did not doubt.
"Great fish with many rows of sharp teeth." I tried to explain, thinking of the few times I had seen one swimming or caught in a fisherman's net. "Large, sharp teeth, and eyes that are...well, much like yours, actually." I teased as Lucien sat beside me, puzzling further. "Black." I clarified, causing a little snicker from the assassin who only shook his head at my remark. The more I thought about it, the more the comparison seemed terribly fitting. Black eyes and bright teeth...
"You have destroyed my desire to swim." He admitted with a grin as he watched the gulls overhead. I reclined further, eventually letting myself fall back to lie in the sand, arm draping over my eyes. "...So this is what you longed to do for years? Sit? Is my lap not good enough a place of rest?"
"I wished to lie on the sand. And we hardly do any resting should I poke your hand, never mind sit upon you." I corrected cheekily, not sparing the assassin a glance as he shifted beside me, chuckling darkly. For a few more moments I tried to relax, all the while feeling Lucien's very apparent stare. Eventually, I gave in, as I could not ignore his obvious attentions. I turned to watch the assassin, who had joined me in the sand looking strangely tempted as he eyed me. His gaze was one I was beginning to recognize. An insatiable hunger. For the briefest moment, I thought of another pair of eyes that held the very same gleam... "...Yes?"
"I want you on the sands of your childhood." Lucien suddenly proclaimed boldly, inching closer to my body. Having nothing to do with the sun, I narrowed my gaze as Lucien's hands began to wander up my thigh. "Most of your memories are poor here. Let us make better ones." I glanced about nervously. Despite being hidden in the reeds, I was very much against public displays of affection. The woods had been an exception, of course.
"We could be seen." I snapped, jerking my leg away only to have the assassin tackle me quickly. Looking positively wicked, he pulled me further into the brush and away from the water. I huffed and glared up at him as I went to right myself and brush sand away, only to have my moves prevented by a firm hand to my chest.
"I am a master of stealth, my dear. Let us not allow a minute detail such as voyeurs to hinder our pleasures." Again, I only glared, readying a retort that quickly faded as his mouth swiftly fell upon mine, his kiss hard and deep, soon traveling lower to my neck and bust. He pulled at the sleeve of my dress, revealing my shoulder so that he could sink his teeth into the flesh there, an action he greatly enjoyed doing. I stifled the sounds that worked their way into my throat and shamefully allowed his proceedings for a time. Only when his hand slipped under my dress did I halt him.
"Lucien, stop," I whined, taking the assassin's wrist in my hands. "I cannot. I...I do not wish to here." The assassin pulled away carefully, looking mildly insulted as he did so. On the now rare occasions where I would deny Lachance, he would appear mostly indifferent but I could sense his irritation. I did not deny him often now, but once we had first started our trip to Anvil I certainly had, as I was far too angry for discarding my precious possessions...but I did not let him know this. Instead, I had half-lied, making up an excuse of an overly sore sex - which was mostly true. The half-truth worked but had unfortunately fanned the assassin's already sizable ego.
"Any particular reasons?" Lucien asked, managing to not sound rude but genuinely intrigued - a feat only the assassin could achieve. He moved away slightly so that I could sit up and beside him. I sighed at his look, endeavoring to seem calm and collected. Truthfully, I very much desired Lucien and did not want his proceedings to end. Unfortunately, they had to.
"Many."
Lucien draped an arm over his knee, more of his concealed irritation effectively stifled as he regarded me questionably. "Such as?"
This caused me to pout and turn my attention to the sand. My body language was still submissive by nature, but my tongue exuded some of the sharpness Lucien Lachance had coaxed into existence. "Must I really explain myself to you?"
The assassin grinned the smallest bit at the bite of my tone. Indeed, he did like and appreciate my fire, in both the best and worse of ways. In truth, it was hardly forced and was simply becoming my natural reaction. I wondered if he had been right all along about my secret feistiness. "I suppose not, no. Although I would appreciate your honesty in these matters."
I frowned and began to draw little circles in the sand with my finger, trying to quell the burning desire that still lingered within me. It was more of an obligation that we did not continue with our bodily wants along the beach of Anvil, rather than an actually choice. "I do not wish to insult you. I fear my reasons would."
Lucien scoffed lightly. "Try me."
I turned to him, lips still pulled in a pout as I absorbed his terribly handsome features. Everything about the assassin's looks, I greatly liked. His black eyes, the thick facial stubble along his cheeks and prominent jaw, the smallest of hooks to his nose, full lips, the little cleft in his chin, that smirk... "I do not...I am very willing to you. I want you to have me, but not here. Not now." I sighed with frustration at myself, turning away from the man I had been shamelessly examining for my own perverse reasons. I swallowed hard and forced myself to be meaningful. "The memories I have here are of before my life turned into a strange thing. Before I knew of responsibility, struggle or sex. I do not want to sully those memories. I wish to hold back, even if other parts of me are greatly protesting."
When I refocused my attention back to the assassin, his usual little smirk had turned into a full-fledged grin. Lucien's natural dark grin, all teeth and charm. He placed his hand upon my knee, applying ample pressure for such a seemingly innocent gesture. I gulped newly as I eyed his hands, wanting very much to have them roam me once more...and thinking oddly of another pair of hands I longed to feel as well. "Perhaps I would not be so insulted if you told me in what ways your other parts are protesting?"
Closing my eyes, absorbing the pressure of Lucien's fingertips, my mind thought of another once more, my words divided - both for Lucien and yet not. "I burn for you. It is inside of me, I ache and long and burn. It is a heat so intense. I could weep for you to dowse it." The words sounded vaguely familiar once they left me, but I shook my head the smallest bit at the phantom notion. "I long for you to touch me. I need it."
Once I again looked to the assassin, his smile had vanished, an expression of pure need that I easily recognized graced his every feature. I bit back a bitter smile at how easily my divided confession pulled him. My words pleased him greatly. "How far to the nearest Inn?"
xxxx
"This one? No, you really cannot have worked here. No...I refuse to believe it. It is far too bloody rich to be coincidental."
"Yes, Lucien, I really did." I griped, arms crossed as we stood before the town's Inn. In my youth, I had worked there for a time at my father's command. He wished for me to socialize. He hoped I would perhaps meet someone my own age. Friends or lovers, it mattered not, my father simply longed for me to be away from our family's woes and foolishness. I was grateful for the work, as I had my own gold, and it was that very gold I pocketed as I ran away from home.
Now, standing before the lovely Inn - The Count's Arms - my face was pulled into a pout as Lucien looked torn between hilarity and offense. I thought all bittersweet, he seemed conflicted on how to properly react to the Inn's name...
"...How do you not see the humor in this?" The assassin inquired, turning to me, looking completely perplexed and affronted. With a soft groan, I turned my gaze away from him and the building, tapping my foot impatiently, hoping to entice him to stop his teasing.
"Perhaps because it leaves a poor taste in my mouth?" I easily countered, already resigned to sup and lie elsewhere. Anything and anywhere to avoid more of the assassin's taunting...
"This is indeed the Inn for us. I wish to sleep and eat here." He grinned, eyeing me with great humor, relishing my flustered little pout. "Although perhaps the greatest happenstance to ever grace Nirn, and with all the hilarity that is saddled with it, I wish to go in...but not only for those reasons alone. I want to see bits of your history." He took my arm and tried to capture my tenderness, using his ever black gaze and charming smirk to sway me. His little-boy smile was positively lethal, I could admit. "I wholly understand if this is too much for you, but should you find it within yourself, I would greatly appreciate dining here," I answered him with another deep frown, which prompted him to lean down and nip my lower lip teasingly. "I promise to make it worth your while. Finish what was started earlier?"
My cheeks turned a bright shade of pink, my pursed lips pinched by my own teeth as I shied away the smallest bit. Despite his endless lust, he was hard to resist. The man was tempting and knew well how to bring pleasure, even if his methods left me greatly ashamed after all was said and done...He made it hard, if not impossible to appear indifferent to his temptation. At times, I questioned who the true Dibellan was between us. And due to our earlier activities, I was easily swayed.
In an attempt to not fall completely to his dark charm and proposal, I snatched my hand away and recrossed my arms, trying to appear more vexed than interested and again embarrassingly titillated. "Fine. But we go to the beach again after. That is what I have missed the most. I want to spend more time there without your hands going to places they should not."
"Of course, my dear." The assassin beamed before ruffling my hair. He retook my hand and guided me into the Inn, which was very much the same. I remembered each corner of stone and table well and was pleased to find most unchanging. Even the proprietor, a stern Redguard named Wilbur - whom I avoided for obvious reasons - looked the way he had years before...but with a little less hair. I sat at a table in the corner, hoping to remain unseen as I drank all in while the assassin ordered us a meal. It was so very interesting, so much so that I had easily lost myself in thought. Memories of scrubbing tables and sweeping came forth to me. A fond recollection of Wilbur striking a drunkard over the head with one of his precious wine bottles for grabbing my backside caused me to grin.
"Excuse me?" I jumped and turned in my seat to the Imperial who addressed me. He was seated at the table next to mine, clad in fine burgundy clothes and wearing his hair in a long, soft brown colored tail. In an instant I turned away the slightest bit, trying to hide my face while not being too terribly obvious. The man was none other than Velwyn Benirus, a boy I knew and played with as a child, who had apparently grown into a man over the last several years. "...Abigale Lynn?"
I stood quickly, near leaping from the table and towards the exit, heart pounding and unsure. I knew the possibility of being discovered existed, but Anvil was a large city and I was no longer a girl and felt myself to look different. Being so easily discernable frightened me. I did not want to be found by those who I knew... At least, I did not think so.
"W-wait!" Velwyn stood, his chair scraping across the floor as he pushed from his seat to follow me out. "Please! I just -" His voice was cut off, a strangled grunt causing me to turn. Lucien Lachance had Velwyn by his hair, dagger pressing with dangerous firmness to the pulsating ventricle beneath his jaw. The assassin loomed over Benirus, who happened to be a much smaller and younger man - only being my age - which thusly made Lucien look more terribly formidable than his norm...while likewise causing Velwyn to look so very boyish. Much like I remembered him.
"Oh, how trouble follows you. My dear, can we truly not go anywhere?" Lucien grinned from over the other Imperial's shoulder, wrenching Benirus' head to the side ever so slightly, causing the smallest droplet of blood to bloom beneath the bite of his blade. My mouth went dry at the sight of crimson languidly slipping down the channel of Lucien's dagger.
"L-Lucien, wait!" I stammered, still very rigid as my eyes met Velwyn's petrified green gaze. "He is...I-I know him. He poses no threat."
The assassin sniggered, eyeing the man in his grasp with amusement. Cruelly, to the assassin, a man like I remembered Velwyn to be was insignificant to the point of laughable. He found my statement to be as entertaining as the person he held. "I am well aware that he is no threat, beloved. However, I did not like his persistence. He looked ready to lay his hands upon you." Lucien continued, his eyes darkening the slightest bit, his humor twisting into a diabolical thing.
"We knew each other well! We were good friends as children!" Benirus choked, again fearful...much like he had been in our childhood...much like myself. "T-tell him, Abigale Lynn! Tell him how close we were!" His obvious panic caused Lucien to scoff and darken further. I pleaded internally for Velwyn to be careful with his words. The assassin was possessive, I had come to realize and appreciate this, as it made him ever more vigilant. However, should Lucien feel so inclined, he would punish another over a thought - a fabricated slight or occurrence that his lopsided imagination concocted.
As was his way, Lucien's mind measured to the exact extent I preordained. Ample pressure was applied to the blade once more with the slightest twist of the assassin's fingers, one of his dark brows rising incredulously. "Good friends, hmm? I cannot say I like this term 'good friends' nor your implied 'closeness'. All of these words worry me greatly. And you share age, yes? Perhaps the aforementioned intimacy suggests other actions..."
"We were children, Lucien. Seven years of age." I countered firmly, finding my strength in the hopeless look on Benirus' face. I mirrored him on more than one occasion and did not wish to stand by and spectate the panic I knew too well. "Stop it, please? You are being purposefully cruel."
"As ever." The assassin quipped, thankfully pulling his blade from the other Imperial, dragging it tauntingly across Velwyn's neck during its retraction. Benirus, having been released, quickly cupped the small wound on his neck, another instinctive action I knew all too well. He walked over to me, stiffly, jittery, turning once to stare at the grinning Lachance who gifted him a little wave as he watched Benirus make his way before me.
"Abigale Lynn..." The young Imperial began, looking addled but far more perplexed over all that had just transpired. "I-I cannot believe...just where have you been? What happened to you? One moment you were here and then you'd up and gone. Everyone assumed..." Being so riled, he babbled on, looking me over with great confusion. "It's been nearly six years. Where on Nirn did you go?"
I opened my mouth to speak, unsure of the words that I wished to say when Lucien interrupted fast. "With me, of course." The young man jumped as Lachance stepped by him and to my side, sheathing his dagger before slinging an arm over my shoulder. "Pardon my rude assumptions, as I am her husband. Your manners were offensive and forceful. I oh so wrongly presumed your motive to be devious. I could not have another man pawing at my wife, now could I?" My expression twisted ever so slightly at the blatant lie but I decided to go along with the assassin. It was a decent cover, I supposed.
Velwyn looked affronted but gave a quick nod of acknowledgment to my apparent husband, mumbling a soft and perplexed apology. He then turned his attention back to me, his gaze pleading for answers that I was reluctant to give. I did not know what to say.
"You have been presumed...may we sit together and talk? Provided I am not intruding on you and your...husband's holiday."
"I suppose..." I answered nervously, glancing upward to the assassin whose expression clearly showed his objection to the idea. However, Lucien said nothing as we all returned to the table I sat by prior. Lucien helped himself to our meal wordlessly, which I thought quite unlike him but appreciated nonetheless. Velwyn sat beside me, looking at me strangely as he sought composure and the correct choice of words.
"You look much like I remember. It is almost eerie how little about you has changed. How have you been?...And where have you been?"
"With me." Lucien clarified suddenly, shooting Velwyn an utterly black look and false smile before taking another bite of his meal. I watched Benirus as he gulped, staring at the obviously dangerous Imperial by his side before turning his gaze back to my own. I gave a little acquiescing nod to Lucien's statement. Again, I supposed it was good enough a cover as I could get.
"Why did you never write? Everyone was so very worried for you. They...they declared you dead some years ago now." I nervously twiddled my thumbs beneath the table, forcing control as I heard the Count's declaration so very long ago resounding in my mind. He would have permitted me to write to them, should I have wished it, but I did not.
"I did not desire to be found. It is better to be presumed gone for good, as I had no intentions of returning." I cleared my throat nervously, feeling the back of my neck perspire ever so slightly at Velwyn's puzzled expression.
"Yet here you are?" He pried, inching closer with genuine curiosity, which prompted a sudden clatter of cutlery as Lucien crudely brought a knife and fork across his plate, demanding Benirus' attention and halting his progression to myself.
The assassin grinned at the small gestures effectiveness and fixed the younger man with another cruel and false expression of lightness. "On vacation." Lucien clarified firmly, gaining a little, timid nod and slightly widened gaze from Velwyn as he did so. "And at my behest too. I do so love Anvil. A pretty town where I procured my pretty little wife. Do you not agree that this coastal gem is worth a small vacation?"
"I...yes. I admit it has its charm. And you also look familiar to me as well. Perhaps we have met before? Do you frequently visit -"
"No." The assassin glared, his blunted knife suddenly looking more deadly as the words left him.
"Velwyn," I interrupted, hoping to stop the random violence Lucien was no doubt enacting in his mind. "This visit was very spontaneous. I do not wish to be discovered. I am sorry for having left without a word but...You know well of my family and why I had left them." Thankfully, this silenced both men with great efficiency and caused Benirus to give a small frown of sympathy before nodding. Indeed, he had been one of my only playmates before I had been called away to tend to children while I was a child. He had also been around during my mother's indoctrination of myself to the Dibellan chapel, and all the discomforts that happened to imply. I did not consider Velwyn and I very friendly or close, but he had been around and knew well of all that transpired. Our town was closely knit and gossip traveled fast. Due to obligation, I had to stop playing, due shame, I sought no one out to confide in. I hid. It was this sudden realization that proved to me that I again wanted to do so. "Being that you are so informed, I pray that you will not alert anyone to my presence. Please, do not tell my family that I am here. Make no mention of me. Please."
"Abigale Lynn..." For a moment there was quiet, my name hanging tensely in the air. Velwyn's gaze turned somber as he looked as though he wished to touch me, Lucien's presence preventing him from acting on the notion. "I cannot make any mention of you to your family. As they...I...I do not relish being the one to tell you this." His gaze flitted across my features, his mouth opening and closing as he wondered how to word his news. News that had me suddenly very apprehensive. "Well, to start, your sister and her kin have long left for Skyrim. They are not here anymore nor do I know where they relocated to." He began cautiously, watching my face for a reaction. I swallowed hard but gave him none, though it pained me to think of several little faces that I would never again see, and little bouncing blonde curls... "Your brother also left some years back. Legion, I think. Stationed in the Weast Weld, last I heard."
"Guillaume cannot be of the Legion, he is too young." I protested, Benirus shrugging slightly.
"Well, he did not have many choices." Velwyn again started, releasing a small puff of air as he did so. I raised my brow questionably, shifting my gaze to the very stony assassin who was presently glaring holes into the back of Benirus' head with a look so deadly. "You see, your brother had to leave. There was no one left to watch him...I am so sorry, Abigale Lynn. Both of your parents have passed, several years ago now."
I stared, my mind suddenly dark as I searched the young man before me for any deception. I found none and still could not believe him and so continued to stare. My mind could not grasp my violently reeling reality. The faces of my parents came to me, my memory distorting features I had not seen in years. My body turned into a statue while my mind began a barrage of questions, pleas and refusals. I did not want to believe the man before me but his apologetic expression was not false in the least. I had to believe him...my parents were gone. The realization tore me. My stomach sank, my heart ached, tears formed in my eyes so quickly that my world swam and left me in utter confusion in a matter of moments. Every person I had known or loved was out of my grasp, gone or dead. My parents were dead. Dead.
My mother and father were dead.
They had passed while I ran away.
I had never known.
Should I not have felt something? Did I?
Why? How?
"L-Lucien?" I looked to the assassin, mortified, reaching out to grab hold of his shoulder. He wordlessly let me grip him as I turned to Velwyn once more, barely able to keep myself from hysterics. Tears flowed but somehow I kept an air of composure, despite a part of me feeling long cold and dead too. "When? How?"
Velwyn nervously rubbed the back of his neck and shook his head at me. "I am so sorry, Abigale Lynn. I know you were estranged...but that matters little. I cannot express my condolences enough. But I beg of you not to pry any further. There is much you do not wish to know."
"W-who are you to claim such a thing?!" I snapped, pushing away from Lucien to assert my demands towards Benirus. "If I cannot hide from you, then you shall not hide from me! Answer me, Velwyn Benirus now! How and when did they die?"
Lucien placed his hand upon my waist, the other lightly caressing my cheek as he turned me to face him, his expression stern. "My dear, I agree with the boy. Some things can only cause more harm than good. The details are of little importance. They are gone. Mourn them." I shook my head at him and hastily wiped my tears. "Death is tragic no matter the cause." He insisted and I knew it was the truth, however, it mattered little. I needed to know.
"How, Velwyn, how?"
"I am sorry, Abigale Lynn but your mother...she took her own life." I blanched, my body cold. Lucien mumbling soothingly by my ear, sweet little words and whispered apologies that meant little. I knew he cared not for such things. I knew his sentiments were only showed as he deemed them obligatory. Velwyn soon continued, barely audible over the current ringing in my ears and Lucien's hum of little encouragements. "They believe the drink may have caused some type of delirium. He mind went and so did she. She was not your mother any longer. It was best you were gone, I am afraid."
I managed a nod, steadily feeling oddly detached from all my surroundings. "M-my father? What happened to him?"
"He passed on from heartache shortly after your mother. I am so sorry."
The assassin took over, speaking to the still apologetic Velwyn Benirus as he gently rubbed his hands up and down my arm. I was no longer listening. My entire family was gone. I had left them but in the end, they had left me. It felt too cruel...but I still could not help but wonder if all was somehow just.
XXXX
The Count sat with Countess Rona, her very cold hand in his own as he searched the familiar features of his ever still wife. He had cared for her greatly once and now he wished to try and show her that very same tenderness once more. He was running out of time to do so, after all. Soon, he would be very much alone. No Rona, no Abigale Lynn, only Janus. It was grim but all was his doing. His loneliness was the repercussion of cruelty and he had enough dignity to accept this truth. He had taken much for granted. Much. He would admit that he still did each and every day. His loyal subjects and help, his ever faithful and firm Stewardess, all of his wealth and every comfort of his home. He looked by all and only wanted more greedily. Janus' new isolation would be his punishment for all his wrongs.
The Count ran a hand over his wife's brow, finding that touching her did not feel as terrible as it once had. Now with her impending rest, he felt differently towards the woman he had loved and locked away for so many years. Acceptance. She was to die, as she so wished, and there was little more he could do. He had fought her for years, a singular battle that would never end...and he was tired of fighting it. Both holding onto what once was mentally, and his beautiful Rona physically, all was to be released. He had to let her go, just as he had to let another he had so loved.
Janus frowned at his wife, solemn and deep. He would miss what they once had, no matter how tedious and grueling it had been at times. He would also miss her constant presence. Rona, his silent companion. When he felt so very alone and detached from all she was there even though she was not. Being so isolated proved difficult, and it had shown so very clearly how much he had twisted by solitude. His treatment of Abigale Lynn was the terrible pinnacle of damage that isolation could cause. It brought him down so lowly. The only way to make right what he had done was by releasing his little love from her bonds. He did just that and loathed her absence with all that he was. He missed her so.
As he stared down at Rona, contemplating loneliness, he felt a sudden stir of magic deep within his chest. Although endeavoring to shut out as many of Abigale Lynn's emotions as he was able, some managed to force their way through, and her present sorrow assaulted him with jarring force.
The Count was reduced to tears in moments, so very confused as blood streaked down his face, his still heart panging in ways he was all too familiar with. Abject Sorrow. Desolation. Internal chaos. Frustration... Janus wondered what was happening as he wiped at the blood on his cheek, face puzzled as he stared down at the crimson that seemed to flow as though it had a mind of its own. As wrong as it felt to do so now, he decided to again strengthen his bond with Abigale Lynn. In moments he felt Anvil, his chest aching once the cruel realization dawned on him. Abigale Lynn had just learned of her parents' deaths. She felt so very alone.
Janus closed his eyes, unsure of what he could possibly do. While still holding the hand of his wife, he longed to comfort the girl he sent away too, in ways that were not romantic but purely compassionate - something he had thought was gone inside of himself. He wished to simply hold her hand as he held the cold hand of Rona. Something small, something to tell her that she was not so lonely. He was there for her. He would always be.
In the smallest effort to bring her any solace, Janus tried to console his internal ache and exuded as much of the sensation as possible to her. He wanted his poor Abigale Lynn to calm. He also tried to extend his openness, his caring, his compassion refined...Janus could only hope some of the magics would succeed in their goal. He could do little else. Although greatly tempted to go to her...he could not. He could not. There would be nothing preventing him from begging her return, nothing stopping him from grabbing her, holding her, taking her home. He could not go to her. He would never use her current vulnerability to his benefit.
He debated still, wondering if he could muster the strength to stand before her, tell her that he would always be there, that she would never be alone...but as he decided to, his feelings of gentleness worked and Abigale Lynn began to steadily calm. The terrible burden was still with her but the shock and horror of all had slowly abated. Janus inwardly proclaimed himself to go to his friend, should she again lapse into her heartache. However, for now, it was kinder and less selfish to sit and pass along his love and promise. He would always be there for her, just as he had been for Rona.
xxxx
Night had long since fallen as I stood in the Anvil graveyard, staring at the headstones of my parents. I had remained there for so long that I had lost track of time. The air felt cold. I felt cold. I did not know how to cope in any way. Wiping fresh tears from my cheeks, a leaned further into the cloaked assassin, finding small comfort in his warm hands upon my shoulders. "Lucien, I...I just do not understand. H-how could this have happened? It doesn't make any sense."
The assassin sighed gently, pulling me to his chest even closer, fully enveloping me in his embrace as his hands held me tighter, near clamping down beneath my collarbones. I felt the pressure needed to remain grounded, otherwise, I would surely float away. "A cruel fate, my dear." Was all he offered as he rested his chin atop my head. I sniffled, reaching up to place my fingers on Lucien's own. He bent to my hair, inhaling me deeply, thumbs running gently back and forth on the skin by my throat. Feeling Lucien's solid and familiar body aided me in ways I could not define. I felt so terribly alone despite his presence, so the contact was most welcomed. His touch was of greater importance than air.
As I stood, basking in my own sorrow and feeling the assassin's warmth, I slowly remembered the Dark Brotherhood's investigation of my person long ago when I first began working for the Count. The realization pained me, I knew now why the assassin had so refused to take me to Anvil. Even before our closeness, he did not wish to journey to the coast. Kvatch was as far as he offered and now I knew why. The Dark Brotherhood Speaker knew well of my history. He knew my parents had passed and tried to keep it from me.
I turned slightly, moving so that I looked up to Lucien Lachance, whose expression was rather impassive as he attempted to be as sympathetic as he was capable. I knew the answer to my question, still, I felt it prudent to ask. "You did not want us to travel here. Did you know about their passing?" I watched, feeling nothing as the assassin gave a little nod, frowning the slightest bit.
"I did. Forgive me? You so wished to come here and I could not bring myself to tell you why I objected. Moreover, I did not think you would have believed me." I swallowed hard as I watched Lucien, knowing that he was right. If he proclaimed my family gone, I would not have believed him. A part of me still wished I could have known but I knew it would not do any good. It mattered not on how I found out, just that I did and it was awful. "I dearly hoped that you would never encounter the truth of all this. I still wish it." He confessed as he searched my face, looking remarkably sincere as he did so. "I deeply regret your pains. If I had known, this would not have been...We would not have traveled here." I only nodded, welcoming the soft kiss he planted on my lips. "I loathe your suffering. Tell me how to end it."
I reached up to his face, feeling the coarse stubble of his chin. Lucien Lachance did not know how to comfort but he was genuinely apologetic to my heartache. He was here for me. I had no one now but him. So I stared into his eyes, blacker than any void, and wondered what could be done to make any of this horribleness go away. "Take me somewhere, please. I-I no longer wish to be here." He kissed me once more before gently pulling me from the graveyard, not another word was spoken.
We walked in complete silence, so quiet that the sea could be heard through the thick walls of the city. I contemplated much as Lucien led me away. My entire life, all that had once been was obliterated. Abigale Lynn Rechelle Biencourt truly was no more and there were no living family members around to now protest this truth. Only I was left...but I was very unsure what or who I now was. A runaway slave? A Dibellan traveler with a Speaker for the Dark Brotherhood? A girl and the assassin? The whore and the killer? The lover of the killer? I knew not what to label myself as, nor was I deluded enough to think I would ever see my siblings again. They were very much gone, just like my parents. Indeed, Abigale Lynn Rechelle Biencourt was no more and I was unsure what was left.
Not having seen my parents mattered little to the ache of the loss. My mother, though wrong and corrupt was my mother. My father...he loved me genuinely. I was his Hummingbird. I missed them both, after leaving them behind for years, I missed them both as though I had never left. It was strange. My mother did a great many terrible things but I never thought her capable of taking her own life. My father's love for her was strong, but it too had faded after much abuse. I would never have dreamt him to succumb from heartache over her loss. I knew my leaving left its mark. I wondered if I had more to do with their deaths than let on. The thought chilled me...but I had to leave. I could not live the life that was selected for me. I made a choice to go...and now I was to go once more.
We passed the large Chapel of Dibella which I glared at with all the hate I held. All my anguish had a thread, long and tangled, but it led to the dreaded Chapel. And though nothing was out of the ordinary, and again all was much how I remembered it to be, I would swear I felt my body hum in a mix of anger, sadness, and shame as we walked on. I blamed it, I blamed Dibella, whether or not She or the Chapel was culpable. I blamed them both and myself as I clung to my assassin, feeling the terrible heat in my shoulder as we left County Anvil. I wished nothing but ill upon all.
XXXX
Lucien Lachance frowned at the young woman across from him as he brought the whetstone to his blade once more. She remained in her little bedroll for much longer than needed, sleeping or glaring off at nothing. She spoke to him when prompted of course, but the majority of their interactions were now very brief. She was mourning, but Lucien could not help but contemplate her form every now and again and wonder if she somehow knew the truth...
Traveling was much slower but the assassin did not mind that in the least. He was in no rush to return to the witch, although he did have questions about what magics could help conception, he was more than willing to take their time. Abigale Lynn was certainly not ready for such a topic, regardless. She was in her grief again and Lucien would patiently wait for it to pass, as it was his doing.
Again dragging the stone against his metal, his gaze set upon the silently suffering girl, he thought on the eve he had dispatched the mother of Abigale Lynn.
XXXX
The Bloated Float, which was anything but a posh establishment, left much to be desired. Lucien hunched on his rickety stool, a mug of ale in hand as he casually watched the woman from the corner of his gaze. He had been so very sick of the menial work he was recently saddled with and ached to get his hands dirty. Lucien took - more as snatched - the contract from Vicente Valtieri's very hands. Anvil was anything but his favorite County but it was far better than the Leyawiin alternative and he was ready to devour the assignment. His blade hand itched from lack of use. It had been months...
So, polishing off his drink before loudly settling it down on the counter with an ask for more, he smirked as the noise gained the attention of the very woman he had an appointment to see. He felt her eyes and watched her from his peripheral as she adjusted her burgundy gown before sauntering over, stumbling some and reeking of mead. A dainty little hand fell upon his arm and gave him a small squeeze. Lucien casually turned in his seat, feigning the smallest bit of surprise to the 'sudden' contact. What he beheld was the oddest mixture of appealing and sad. The woman - his target - was both lovely and pathetic.
Tertia Biencourt. Older than he by a few years but one would never have known that, as she was undoubtedly attractive. The woman was tall and remarkably endowed in her bust. The gown she wore was silken, scandalous and clingy, expertly displaying a small attractive curve to her belly and hips, all a delightful mixture of thick and lean. Her complexion was a sun-kissed olive, freckles peppering her shoulders, chest, and face. Her full painted lips were pulled into a sultry little smile. Brown eyes twinkled at him beneath her bountiful curly red hair. Her pose was confident, her features appealing, but her overall look...purely and laughably desperate. She craved attention.
Amidst all her loveliness, deep bags under her eyes and the slightly sallow appearance indicated her addiction. Her fingers twiddled the slightest bit, limbs both jerky and smooth. And, of course, she stunk of drink. Reeked, actually, to the point that Lucien Lachance almost lost his lunch on her expertly displayed and oiled bosom. Which would have been a great shame, he would admit.
"Hello, stranger," His target started, the game beginning, to his great pleasure. "I haven't seen you around here before. Would you happen to be a traveler?"
The inquiry, though appearing innocent enough, was quite the opposite. As the assassin had been informed by his target's husband, Tertia Biencourt was anything but morally clean in nature. This helpful little note aided him greatly in his assessment on how to play. He eyed her shamelessly. "I certainly am." He grinned, leaning back the slightest bit, relaxing his body for the appearance of nonhostility. Body language was just as important as spoken words and he aimed to lull her with charm and openness.
It worked. "Oh, how wonderful for you!" She smiled, inching ever closer, her spare hand going to her pretty throat - a delightfully feminine gesture. "I have always longed to travel. Is this your first time in Anvil?" Her persistence for closeness was most appealing in his line of work. With the correct ministrations, Tertia Biencourt would entice herself out and away from prying eyes...the assassin only had to gain her total interest. He had to appear as not a simple, desperate man whom she could shake a few Septims from, but an intriguing lay, someone she would like to know a bit better in private...
Lucien eyed the sway of her hips as she shifted her footing, his hand mindlessly twirling his newly filled tankard. "Sadly yes. Had I known the views and women to be so breathtaking..." He inwardly smirked at his own wording as he turned his gaze to her face, searching her, showing attention. "I would have endeavored to visit sooner." She liked that, giggling some, ringlets bouncing around her as she shook her head in a falsely modest gesture. She was fooling no one but herself.
Lucien Lachance was greatly enjoying this.
"You are kind...but perhaps a little lonely? May I sit with you?" She inquired, fingering her curls, attempting meekness. One must not be too forward, after all. The assassin found her behavior and poor acting laughable. No doubt it worked on sailors and drunks, so she could not be wholly blamed for the confidence she held in her 'skill'. "I do hope that you would not be against some company..." Tertia insisted, eyeing the empty stool to his side meaningfully.
"Please, by all means, do sit." Being an absolute gentleman, Lucien pulled the seat out for his target before bringing his attention to his drink once more. He could not fawn too much, she would think him an easy work. He made a great show of enjoying his ale, knowing of her terrible vice and even allowed the smallest bit to roll down his chin. All a tease, all a taunt, her eyes drinking in the sight just as he drank his brew. He chuckled and wiped the bit away with two fingers before popping them into his mouth, casually returning his interest to his now sufficiently thirsty target. "Pardon my terrible manners, my lady. As a matter of fact...I don't believe I caught your name? A proper introduction is an important thing, after all."
Tertia swallowed hard, enjoying his intense stare and sloppy display of drink. "I...I could not agree more. I am Tertia Doran. And who might you be, traveler?"
"I am Lucien Lachance. Presently, a very fortunate man to have selected this establishment, as we are now newly acquainted." He grinned, noting her little nod and desperation. This was going to be easier than originally anticipated. His little show seemed to have stunned her very logged mind. "Forgive me for saying so, my lady, but you are a vision. Truly, Anvil pales when in comparison to you."
Her attention returned, her head snapping up some toward the compliment, a smile growing wide on her lips. "You are far too kind! Perhaps with your great kindness, I am lovely enough to earn a drink?"
"Lovely enough to earn the tavern in its entirety." The assassin agreed before again taking a long swig of his drink, making no move to the barkeep. Instead, his hand wandered carelessly to his very heavy purse. An impulse, a thought, then hesitation. All this fabricated for his target. Tertia watched how he faltered, her interest peaked. She licked her lips nervously all the while eyeing Lucien with great curiosity as she awaited his reasons for not acting on his claim. "Alas, I am not in the habit of purchasing things for strangers. It is nothing personal, my lady."
Tertia gave an apprehensive laugh, her hand once more returning to Lucien's arm. "You yourself just said we are now acquainted." The assassin quirked his brow at it and her, looking remorseful over his own code. He gave a sad shake of his head, patted her hand and laid some coinage on the counter.
"Newly acquainted, my dear. It is a pity...but I cannot risk handing over gold to someone I know so little." Lucien stood and righted his belt, feeling her eyes burn into his back as he did so. "One drink easily turns into three or four, then a meal, and then my pockets emptied before I can get so much as a farewell peck on the cheek." The assassin turned to her, his expression of pity and longing as he again shamelessly drank in her bountiful curves. "It is a great tragedy indeed. I am certain you are not like that, but I have been 'certain' before. One can never be too careful...It was good to meet you, my lady."
The assassin turned to leave, 'startled' when that pretty little hand grabbed his own. Tertia stood, smiling, sultry, and in her element. "Then let us not be strangers. If you are interested, I do know of a place where we can get to know each other a bit better...but it will cost you. Interested, Mister Lachance?"
Feigning a healthy measure of surprise, pretending to not have known this woman was an absolute strumpet, Lucien pulled Tertia closer after his initial 'shock'. He brought his mouth to her ear, his voice dropping to a whisper as to not be overheard. "I am greatly interested... in finding out whether or not that is your hair's natural color. You have the elegant hands of an illusionist. Can't be too careful these days..."
Tertia smirked and pulled the assassin to the door. "Only one way for you to find out."
She led him out into the night and down the docks, far by broken cargo and crates, cheap whores and sick sailors. Soon they reached a small bank of sand, hidden by an old dilapidated dinghy boat and smashed barrels. There, she wasted no time presenting herself to him, slipping her breasts from the collar of her small dress. She smiled, gripping her heaving chest, emitting a little moan to heighten the display. She was effective, Lucien could admit, and as she pressed her soft, warm curves to his clothes, he felt greatly overdressed and absurdly ready.
Her lips went to his throat, her hands expertly working his belt and slipping down his breeches. He stifled a grunt as she pulled his member from the confinement of cloth, dropping to her knees before him as she did so. Regrettably, that is where he halted her, his suddenly aching manhood inches from her waiting mouth as an echo of her husband's warning resounded in his mind...
"I warn you, assassin, she will tempt you with herself. She is temptation...I care not where you stick her, nor what with, but defend yourself too. I hear she is now so wracked with diseases that her breath upon your cock could cause an outbreak of blisters most foul."
"I have never truly cared for that." Oh, what a lie... He inwardly groused but showed none of his internal conflict. "But I do appreciate a woman on all fours?" Tertia only grinned before hiking her dress and turning away, Lucien soon joining her in the sands. He held her hips, marveling at the absence of undergarments and relishing his impending pleasure.
"You know, I thought you would appreciate this position." The woman commented teasingly, tossing him another sultry glance before laying her upper half down further, presenting her bottom to the assassin like an animal in heat.
Lucien chuckled, hands wandering the delicious curves, inwardly tutting over the shame not having her was to bring him. It was a great pity, indeed. "May I ask how you gathered such a thing?"
"Oh, Mister Lachance, you are so very polite." She giggled, completely, blissfully oblivious to the presence of a dagger, languidly hovering over her flank. "It is my requirement to know. Business is my pleasure." Lucien worked a hand into her pretty red curls, giving the gentlest of tugs, causing a little moan to escape his target. He could hear her smile. It made everything all the more sweeter.
"Really? Well..." Lucien wrenched her back, Tertia gasping at the sudden violence, staring up at the twisted grinning Lachance. "Death is mine." Fast as an arrow, Lucien's blade raked across Tertia Biencourt's neck, severing tendons, arteries, and cords. The woman gurgled, jerked, and spasmed in his hands. He watched, he smiled, he enjoyed her every move as she went violently through the throes of death. She bled out in his grasp, on her hands and knees, under the light of the moon by the beach. It was a lovely holiday.
She continued to jerk as he released his grip, the woman flopping headfirst into the now crimson sand. Her eyes were searching the encroaching blackness as Lucien stuffed himself back into his trousers before standing. He walked the few feet to the shoreline, rinsed his hands and blade and gave himself a quick examination. Still clean, still handsome. He smiled at his own reflection before turning back to the still convulsing and half-naked Tertia.
"Now you are just being stubborn." He commented with dark mirth before walking back to the woman, every intent on dragging her into the water to drown what little life remained. However, as he stepped to her side, she stilled. Slowly, her eyes unfocused, her twitching fingers unmoving. She was gone...but the assassin tossed her into the waters regardless. Cleanup was essential and the slaughterfish of the sea had a tendency to strip flesh from bone at a remarkable rate.
Once she was adrift, he kicked at the reddened sand until it was no more; some to the water, some to the dinghy. When all was tidy, the assassin left Anvil, whistling all the way back to Cheydinhal. In a few weeks, he would return to his targets husband, as per his request. But for now, he basked. It was a vacation well spent.
Author's Notes: Lucien is a murderous man! He murders!...and now it's way beyond my bedtime! XD Quality is poor due to tiredness! XD