Author's Notes: Sorry guys, this chapter is late. I've been super busy with life again and it is getting hard to juggle everything. I really appreciate the feedback, it's the only reason why this update was posted at all. I may have to postpone the next installment. I need more time to write. The next update will probably be posted around the 23rd. If sooner...awesome! If not, I'm sorry. I don't want to make a promise I can't keep. I also don't want to crank out crap chapters. We all know I have terrible grammar, we don't want that to escalate! I also do NOT want the quality of the story to drop in my haste to update. So, yeah. 23rd at the latest. It sucks because we're getting more into the web of deceit! XD Again, thank you all for your reviews, kind words, speculations and (hopefully) patience! : )
Love or Blood
Chapter Sixty-six: Apple Seeds
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Another week passed us by, the days melting into one another. The assassin and I had grown different towards each other and not in a negative way. The assassin became much more attentive since our trip to Kvatch. In the mornings, he asked if I was ready or willing to travel. In the evenings, he would stay awake and watch me, gently stroking my skin, constant gentle touches until I drifted off to sleep. It was an oddly soothing thing, being watched over by a murderer. A murderer I chose to accept. I had grown used to betrayal, used to forcing acceptance of behaviors I did not approve of. Lucien Lachance chose not to harm someone I begged him not to, then he apologized for the treatment in its entirety. It was the best that I could obtain, so I took him.
It was the day after we left Kvatch that Lucien proposed a strange offering to me. 'I feel it is now unfair for me to know as much as I do about you while you know so little about me. If you so wish it, ask me anything you would like about myself. I will answer you honestly, so long as it does not betray my Brotherhood. But should you not ask, I will not divulge. You must ask the questions or I will give you nothing. It is your choice'.
Those were his words and I was so very intrigued by all and accepted his offer. However, I had yet to ask him a single question. Over the passing days, I decided it was best for me to remain ignorant as I healed. I was still very upset and unsure, but after the assassin's mercy towards Martin, I felt a touch better. Lucien Lachance would not change for me but that did not mean he was incapable of feeling. He knew I would be further hurt, so he did not act on his tendency for bloodshed. This gave me hope for us, along with his astonishingly tender treatment. He was very much the same Lucien Lachance but his touch was less bruising. Now all was more lax and lingering. I enjoyed it.
He had been deeply apologetic the morning we had left Kvatch and spoke little out of shame. Truthfully, this made me feel unsure. I confessed that I did not like his meekness, and just like that, it was done. However, his gaze still held a small amount of guilt. I found it odd that the man felt more poorly over locking me in a room then his contemplation of murder. Of course, it was foolish of me to find it strange at all, as he was a killer and liked what he did.
Steadily, I began to come to terms with all that had transpired. With the passing of my parents, the separation from the Count and Lucien's behavior in Kvatch, I had been in a mild state of shock. I had slowly came back down to Nirn on my own time. No longer did I try to silence or stifle my woes. I felt them, acknowledged the hurt and moved on. There was little more I could do. I mourned my losses. I had many now, but there was one thing that remained with me and swore to continue to do so, should I be willing to him...so I chose to remain.
Lying with the assassin proved different as well. I tried to reciprocate the affection I was shown. Some pain had abated and I began to try and move with Lucien, rather than lie there as he pleasured me. I wanted him to feel as desired as I did. It was partly forced, partly not. He guided me wordlessly to his preferences as I did him. My fingers in his hair happened to be something he especially liked, which intrigued me, as Lucien was very particular about his hair. The assassin was also all too eager to show me different ways for us to join and delighted in my surprise to each of his new proposed positions. I tried to show equal enthusiasm, even if some new physical situations seemed intimidating.
Overall, I had grown closer to Lucien Lachance. He was who he was, as was I. We would not change as people but we cold grow together. I could find happiness in the assassin, even if slight, and that was better than the alternative. Far better.
As we passed the threshold of Drakelowe once more, the witch, Melisande seemed especially pleased to usher us in. Her cottage was again very much the same. However, she looked the smallest bit neater. Her long, white hair had been braided, and her sullied apron had been replaced with a mildly cleaner one. Her feet, although still bare, no longer looked as though she had been walking in the mud around her overgrown gardens.
No sooner had we received her welcome and sat in our now usual seats, did the witch smile, hands clasped together eagerly. "I have been impatiently awaiting your arrival. Do you have all of my ingredients for me?"
"All but the ash," Lucien answered as he rummaged through the satchel of purchased supplies, delicately placing out the required elements. "That one I am saving. Here is all but the dust that you desire."
The witch began to inspect the spread of ingredients carefully, pouring over all separate pouches with extreme diligence. "Six cloves of garlic, just as I asked for. Very good...Wonderful specimens of Nightshade, seems you know a good blossom when you see it...And decent Bloodgrass. I understand it is difficult to find prime shoots, lest you wander into Oblivion itself, which I would never recommend." She then eyed the small bottle of Argonian blood appraisingly, giving it a small swirl in the air. "Ah, most excellent. Thick and cool. I do hope it didn't cause too much trouble to obtain, although I doubt one in your field of work would have much of a challenge acquiring such a thing."
She gathered all the elements and brought them to her bed, plopping them all unceremoniously onto the unmade sheets and messed blankets. Lucien and I watched with equally inquisitive expressions, as she had been so very meticulous with their prior examination. The assassin stood, soon taking my hand and aiding me in rising as well with him. "...Well, it seems that you are satisfied with what we could obtain. I suppose we should take our leave then, being that we still have to retrieve the vampire ashes that you claim are so very important."
"No, no leaving. Not quite yet, young man." The witch said from over her shoulder, soon retrieving a small pot of damp soil from beneath her bed...The witch then turned to me and Lucien, smiling widely. She brandished the pot as though it were a trophy made of solid gold as she made her way over to us. "I'm afraid I will need one more thing from you today. More specifically, from your lady. A pinprick's worth of blood is all. Just a drop."
I froze, staring at the still grinning witch and Lucien who had greatly soured. "Why? We brought you what was asked. Why her blood?" The assassin snapped, glaring into the pot of black soil. "What is in there?"
"Oh, so many questions..." The witch chided, placing her hand upon Lucien's shoulder, meeting his stare with the utmost confidence. "I promise you no harm will come to her. What would be gained? Nothing but enemies." Melisande proclaimed before gesturing to the planter once more. "Nothing in here but wheat and barley, young man. A maiden's blood may help it to flourish...that is all." Her grin widened slightly as Lucien's brows jumped upwards. He eyed her questioningly, which gained him a little nod from the witch. His mouth opened and closed before he grabbed my hand.
"You told me not to give her anything!" I whispered harshly, watching as the witch stalked over to a pincushion on her bookshelf. "W-what is that?"
"Only as she said, my dear. Wheat and Barley. Your blood may make it grow. It is but another requirement to our deal with her, is it not, witch?" The assassin said boldly to gain the older woman's attention, exceeding in near startling me more.
Melisande stood hunched over a lit candle, the selected needle for the task twirling lightly in between her forefinger and thumb. "Hmm? Oh, yes, yes. I will only fashion a cure for vampirism should you comply, dearie. Do not worry, this will not hurt. It is only a little needle." Her posture erected as she again strolled towards us, Lucien's grip on my wrist near bruising as he held me in place, despite my lack of struggling. I only swallowed hard as Melisande looked to me once more, her smile disturbingly innocent. "Ease yourself, dearie. The blood of a Dibellan has a tendency to...aid plants. It may help them grow large."
"Do it." The assassin grunted, the witch complying quickly, pricking my middle finger deeply. Blood quickly welled around the needle before it was retracted. Melisande took my hand from Lucien's and guided it over the pot, squeezing the bleeding digit gently over the soil. Several droplets pattered. Four on one-half of the planter, four on the other, before a quick spell of restoration was cast over me by the witch, whose attention was now greatly fixed on the bloodied dirt.
In an otherworldly fashion, the droplets of red seeped into the soil. The room was quiet. I watched Lucien. I watched the witch. I knew something was occurring but did not have the faintest clue what it could be. I only chewed my lip and held my hand, eventually joining the pair in watching the planter curiously. Then, before my very eyes, I watched as a bright green shoot slowly punched through the dirt, twirling as it grew upward before straightening. And then another. And another. And another. All on one side of the planter, growing recklessly fast and tall, appeared barley.
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Lucien watched the thick stalks grow stronger with a mouth as dry as the deserts of Elsweyr. Wheat and Barley. Barley grew. The assassin was no stranger to such methods to predict the probability of a woman to be with child, as he had done research on such magic and anatomy. And, of course, he had one or two assassinations that required the termination of the unborn. Lucien took pride in having knowledge of his targets' conditions in their entirety. So, Melisande showing Abigale Lynn to be with child in any manner left Lucien Lachance rather dumbstruck.
He stared and stared, eventually swallowing hard, glancing to his curious companion who gazed up at the still growing plants in wonder. Lucien's heart became rather loud in his chest as he continued to observe...
In truth, the assassin had wished to speak to Melisande about Abigale Lynn's 'infertility' to see if anything could be done. Children could bring great happiness, he thought. Having such a purpose could greatly aid the assassin and Abigale Lynn in all ways. But apparently, the girl was not in any way barren...and Lucien was not entirely sure how to break the news of her sudden pregnancy to her.
"See there, dearie? Barley, just as promised. Thank you. This will make a lovely little addition to my garden." The witch spoke cheerfully, jolting the assassin out of his current thoughts and back to the present. He watched as Melisande took the planter from the table, a smile still adorning her weathered features as she did so. "I had better put this plant in the ground before the roots spiral in the pot bottom. Excuse me, you two. Make yourselves at home."
Lucien was quick to step before the witch, blocking her path to the door with his body, smiling down kindly at her, his tone beyond charming. "Allow me to join you? Surely you will require some assistance with such a task. After all, you took from her...take from me now. I am a man and thusly built for labor." Melisande only quirked a brow, Lucien's grin not quite reaching his eyes, which sharpened at her quite. "Allow me to join you." He tried again, this time the hag catching his want for a private chat away from Abigale Lynn...
"I suppose I could use some help. This is quite the heavy burden. Here." The witch unceremoniously dropped the pot, causing Lucien to bend fast and grabbing it before it smashed onto the already filthy floorboards. He shot the witch a glare who only likewise smirked at the assassin's swift movements. "Wait here for us, dearie. With your murderer accompanying me, this will only take a moment. Sit! Put your feet up. Calm yourself. Tea is on the kettle."
"Don't drink it," Lucien grunted as Melisande brushed past him, flicking and unlatching locks before opening the door, allowing the light of day to pour inside the cottage. Abigale Lynn did indeed sit...with her arms crossed, lips pouted and brows furrowed. Thankfully for Lucien, she was still inclined to obey, due to her previous lover's order. It proved useful in moments such as these, where Lucien very much needed a moment away, and her willingness to do as he said aided him greatly...but that did not stop the indefinite trouble that he again planted himself in once more - no pun intended.
As they walked outside, Lucien was mindful of closing the door behind him, doing all he could to keep Abigale Lynn from overhearing the conversation he wished to hold with the witch. Abigale Lynn knew something was amiss, but until he was absolutely certain over the goings on, he wished to keep the girl in the dark. Lucien rounded the cottage corner, finding Melisande awaiting him with her hands on her hips, dirtied foot tapping impatiently. "Just put that plant down, young man. I have no real use for it."
"I gathered that much." The assassin snipped, this time dropping the planter before them. His gaze remained steely, locked onto the witch as it landed and shattered on the ground with a heavy 'thump', scatterings of soil spilling from the pot along with shards of ceramic. "Tell me what you know."
"About what exactly?" Melisande countered cheekily, causing Lucien Lachance to bristle, his eyes narrowing into hateful slits.
"Do not take me for a fool, witch." He sneered, earning a soft chuckle from the woman as she leaned against the stones of her home. The assassin watched her ease with great disdain, his fingers itching to grasp his sword or dagger, or even a damnable bit of broken ceramic to cleave at the hag with...her condescending mannerisms were not presently enjoyed. "What did I just witness? Confirm it for me."
Again, Melisande chuckled. "Does fatherhood frighten you so, murderer? I know you wanted a child and it just so happens that your young companion is growing one in her belly right now. Are you not pleased?" The words froze him. The assassin was unsure what to feel once his speculation was validated. Abigale Lynn, his beautiful Abigale Lynn, was with child. She believed herself unable to carry but somehow conception occurred. It was a miracle. The assassin was never truly opposed to having children, he simply never found one denoted worthy of carrying his seed. However, the sudden existence of life that until minutes ago was unknown and thought to be unlikely or impossible, was rather startling. Jarring. Frightening? Lucien Lachance felt...rather cold in his fingers...The witch laughed. "You had better sit down or lean, young man. All the color just left your face! Are you so very faint? I pinned you as a hardier stalk."
The assassin indeed leaned against the stone of the cottage as well, staring off at the broken pottery vacantly. His mind raced. Lucien did want a child, yes, but there were many questions that buzzed around in his mind. He wanted to be happy, to tell Abigale Lynn. It would please her, eventually, as it was a greatly frightening prospect. She thought herself barren, finding out the contrary would make her happy, provided she was tended to accordingly...Unfortunately, Lucien's pleasantly frightening thoughts stopped in their tracks as he continued to stare down at the shattered bits of red ceramic, thinking oddly of the Skingrad banners...Lucien Lachance was not her only. The assassin's stomach sank and he could not conceal his sudden disappointment. "...How far along is she?"
"I'm no midwife, young man. When the child comes, you can backtrack the months. She is not showing, so she cannot be too far along...though I did not have a belly until I was far into my pregnancies..." Melisande hummed in thought, looking off to the side before turning her attention to the suddenly rather twitchy assassin. "Ah, I see...There is another potential father. The vampire?"
The glare Lucien set upon the witch should have killed her, alas, Lachance needed her alive for the moment... "Yes. Is there a way to tell if it is mine?"
"Certainly. Compare its features once it's born."
"No." The assassin snapped, again glaring a hole into Melisande's skull. "The child cannot be his. She thought she was barren. A spawn of that vampire cannot thrive within her. She is too...fragile. I need to know for certain that I am its father."
"I agree with you, she is most fragile, but the girl happens to be anything but barren. She has fertile magicks in her." The witch then looked at the assassin pointedly. "Further, I have seen more of your future as well. Your path can go either way, depending on how you handle this situation. There is no way possible that I could tell you who the true father of her child is. And unfortunately, it is an equal chance for you and her other...but depending on how this matter is worked, your happiness will be secured with her. This matter is a delicate one, indeed. Your stealth may be required."
Lucien Lachance pinched the bridge of his nose, his thoughts scattered like planter on the ground. "What do you mean, pray tell?"
"Again, there is no possible way for me to tell you who the father is. Now think. Take comfort and know that your pretty Dibellan is not infertile. If she can carry now, she will carry again...The solution to this problem is quite easy and very self-explanatory. You are a killer - Kill." Melisande explained, shrugging lightly. This caught the assassin's full attention. "Oh, don't look so surprised. As if you have not killed babies or the unborn before."
"Not ones that are possibly mine!" Lucien stared, feeling strangely hostile at the thought. What grew now in Abigale Lynn could be part of him. It could be. Killing it to save the trouble that the spawn of Hassildor would inflict was a bitter thing to swallow. What if the child was Lucien's and he ended it as a precaution? Lose his firstborn to fear...But what would happen should the child be born the spitting image of his or her father? Yes, that would give him a definitive answer, but then they could hold an heir to Skingrad, a child of the undead...and their spawn hardly ever turned out normal. Could Lucien pass the child for his own? Accept it? He doubted it. Could they ship it to Skingrad? Abigale Lynn would not allow it. No. And then she would forever look upon the reflection of her previous lover. A lover who caused her nothing but trouble...
"Possibly, my dear. Possibly." The interrupted, pulling the assassin from his worrying thoughts. The witch then bent down and plucked a few strange looking herbs from her garden, the assassin following her every movement with great care. "I cannot tell you what to do, as I know not the answer. However, I can provide you with options. A quick and painless option. The unborn is far too undeveloped and will be unidentifiable. She will only think her blood has started. After the course has ended, you may try to conceive again. It will take." The witch strode over to the assassin and carefully took his hand, unflinching and unafraid, despite his purely lethal look. "If you so desire it, brew these in some tea. Have her drink at least one cup in the evening. The child will pass through her body by dawn at the latest. It will not fail."
"Sounds similar to Tansy." Lucien found himself muttering as his fingers closed over the odd assortment of roots and flowers. The assassin, for the first time in his life, found himself mortified at the prospect of killing. Killing a child that could be his own. Killing a child of Abigale Lynn. A part of her, regardless who the true father was...
"Much more powerful and less painful. I promise you, she will not be in any more discomfort than an average woman's cycle. She will bleed for ten days on end. Tend to her, show her how loving you can be and she will be overjoyed. Finding that she is not barren and has a loving assassin to dote on her. Most pleasant." Lucien swallowed hard, pocketing the herbs carefully, his gaze set to the green forests, his mind in the mud.
"Ignorance is bliss. Only I will carry the burden of my child's demise...by my hand and design."
The witch gave Lachance a genuinely sympathetic look. It was not an easy thing to do, she knew. Melisande had seen Lucien's possible futures and one did involve children, the other did not and ended...violently. She debated showing him. She did not want to alter his decision. This was purely out of her hands, her influence could change much... "It may not be yours."
"It also may."
Melisande sighed. "It is all up to you, young man. But I am afraid I have a price, even for this..." Her hands returned to her hips as she glanced over at the broken pot once more. "As you know, information is a valuable commodity. Better than gold. Therefore, I shall not breathe a word of our discussion or what is in your pockets, provided you give me the name of the vampire you are trying to create a cure for." Lachance only quirked his brow as the witch continued. "For my own research and protection. I'm sure you understand."
Without missing a beat, the assassin answered, hoping that perhaps the witch would be plotting something foul to befall his now rival. "Janus Hassildor." The witch blinked at Lucien's swiftness in response, knowing he was so very forthcoming from hate, but still surprised that one of shadows and secrets would betray his patron. "I have a request for you as well, Melisande. You said you could glimpse my futures. Do you possess the power to share your insight with me?" Instantly, the witch recoiled slightly, worrying of altering the assassin's judgment in a negative way..."You have given me choices but no information. This is not a matter to be taken lightly and I need to know the angles in which I am approaching with. What is it that I am reaching for...or trying to avoid?"
"I...if you really wish to know, it will cost you."
The assassin straightened. "Name your price."
"Along with the ashes of Hindaril, I will require an extra four more portions of vampire dust and a lock of your hair." Lucien Lachance, without hesitation, brought a dagger to his hair and hacked a lock from his tail, feeling a great dose of irony as he did so. He handed the bit to the witch who tucked it into her apron with a nod. "Good. I shall take this as a forward." Melisande then grabbed the assassin's hand and pulled him near, her fingers laying over his eyes. "Do not forget the ashes."
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Lucien Lachance arrived wearily before a large and sturdy house. The abode was made of white stones, red roses scaling its walls, creating a magnificence that warmed him pleasantly whenever the sight came into his view. He sighed, ready to rest his aching self after a rather taxing contract. He dismounted the equally pleased Shadowmere who galloped off to her stables as he pushed through the iron gate. Lucien walked the familiar stone path to his little manor and approached the heavy wooden door, which swung open for him abruptly, nearly smacking him in the nose...
A child stood at the threshold, beaming up at him with pure delight. Her little face was beautiful, her skin an olive tone, black eyes piercing him through the tangle of messed red hair. The feeling that spread through his chest once he looked upon her was indescribable. A glowing - his joy. She spoke to him excitedly, babbled and grabbed his hand in both of hers, pulling him inside the home. His home. Their home. Abigale Lynn stood at the top of the stairs, ever beautiful, a small and nervous smile on her face as she spoke to him. He longed to touch her, feeling an almost ridiculous amount of anticipation as she slowly dismounted the stairs. Lucien's attention was soon divided by grasping little hands and the softest of kisses by his Abigale Lynn...he had been away for weeks. He had missed them so...
Years passed. He stood in the field amongst the yellow wheat, the hired hands cutting away hefty stalks while he and his little girl were using the sickle for another purpose entirely...
The assassin taught his daughter - his pride - how to use such an odd weapon efficiently. The little girl had grown significantly and anything her father taught she absorbed, being remarkably astute. Much like Lucien, she moved with near baffling fluidity, her small body lithe and exceptionally nimble. She was brave. Unflinching. Eager to learn everything he taught her, possessing the wonder only a child could hold for her father's work, though she knew not what it was.
Their lesson ended quickly as Abigale Lynn approached. Holding her hand and toddling at her side followed a small boy. Brown curls adorned his head like a little cherub, his skin fair and cheeks a ruby color - much like his mother - while his eyes were again the reflection of his father's - a dark brown. A delightful black.
Some time went by. They traveled. Skyrim. His Abigale Lynn loved it, he knew she would, as did their daughter. The boy was still far too young to have an opinion but greatly liked the food and music. The couple stole a moment as the children slept, and in his rapture, Lucien was purposely anything but careful. He was so very happy. They conceived again. Abigale Lynn knew she was pregnant before they crossed back into the Cyrodiil border. She adored the new unborn, although thinking rather soon and sudden.
More joy, more time...then trouble. So much trouble that the assassin had to leave his family...then return. Return fast. Someone was going to hurt his family.
Shadowmere rode to their home, her hoofs deafening as the manor grew ever larger. Lucien leapt off of the mare, his stomach dropping as he pushed through the iron gate, his daughter emerging from the house, his son on her hip, both bloodied and frightened. They stayed by Shadowmere as Lucien went inside, blades drawn. The assassin was afraid and confused. He still did not know how the madman had found him but his twisted intentions were frighteningly clear. His children were safe. He needed to secure his Abigale Lynn.
With his heart in his throat and sweat along his brow, he scoured his home. Fortunately, Lucien found her quickly. She was shaken, injured, bleeding from her lip and bruised around her neck but blessedly alive. He thanked the Matron aloud before embracing her, accessing her injuries before turning his attention hatefully to the form on the floor. By their feet, a robed stranger. Upon inspection - a traitor. The traitor. Abigale Lynn had used the magicks of her birth sign to subdue and bind him. Lucien was thankful, he was proud. His woman ended the crisis that could have destroyed his other Family...
The Hand would arrive, his name would be clear. They were finally safe. Lucien embraced his woman again, touching the small of her rounded belly, feeling the reassuring kicks from within. They would gather their children and calm, then stow them away in their rooms as Lucien worked.
The Hand arrived an hour after Lucien. Together they interrogated the traitor in the barn. Lucien could only pace back and forth as the proceedings went on, doing all he could to not destroy the man who meant to rape his pregnant wife before killing her and his children - his Brothers and Sisters tearing him apart as a finishing touch on an elaborate plan of madness that went back decades. Once satisfied, the obscure traitor was dragged into the wheat crops. There they all slowly took part in killing him in the field. Lucien later used his petrified bits as a means to fend off crows. All was well...
More and more and more years. Lucien looked at his reflection, scowling at the graying hairs that would not leave him and the creases on his forehead that deepened with each passing day. His Abigale Lynn smirked, sauntering over, looking somehow more alluring as a grown woman. Confident. Pleased. Seductive. They spoke, she tutted, she pulled his hood up gently, the action always touching the assassin. Acceptance. Love and acceptance.
His daughter ran in, arguing with her siblings about some trivial nonsense that she longed to murder them all over. Lucien Lachance was a proud father indeed. He patted her head before booting them all out of his and Abigale Lynn's room. Hand business could take a day or so and he needed his required compassion and passion for getting him through it.
He held Abigale Lynn, he was in her, she breathed the words 'I love you'. So rare, so beautiful. They had completion. He was so very happy and would remain so for the rest of his days...
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The witch removed her hand, bringing Lucien back to the present. All swayed, the colors of Nirn painfully vivid. "Collect yourself." She advised gently, watching Lucien wobble the smallest bit. The assassin felt as though he had been deeply submerged in water and just resurfaced to catch his breath. He gulped at the air greedily, his mind still swimming in the metaphorical waters. Melisande gave him a moment of recuperation before continuing gently. "When you are ready, I shall show you the alternate fate. I warn you that it is...gruesome. You may need to sit down for -"
"No need..." Lucien rasped, bending at the waist, his hands on his knees as he regained composure. The assassin swallowed hard. No, nothing, not even the most foul of demises could pull him away from the afterglow of joy he had just known. He had all he had ever wanted in a span of moments that felt like years. By night he was a killer - deadly and cruel. By day he was a father and husband, both loved and needed. A teacher, a master, a lover, a murderer... That was his destiny. "That...that is all I wanted...needed to see. I want...that."
"Murderer, there is more." Melisande pressed, watching the assassin as he shook away some of the lingering dizziness from the magical vision." An alternative end may yet wait for you. There will be blood spilled and darkness. It will be a most terrible end, I -"
"An end that need not be." Lucien interrupted as he straightened, his mind still racing over the whirling pleasure from the vision of his possible future. He looked to the witch, his expression stern, his tone serious. "I want what you have shown me. How do I obtain it?"
Melisande opened and closed her mouth, looking mildly affronted before finally speaking. "As I said prior, that I cannot tell you, as I do not know. There is no way I can tell you what moves to make to gain your desires, assassin." She paused, nodding towards the still freshly poured soil. Lucien thinking it odd only for a moment, as it felt as though he dropped the planter years ago... "However, I can tell you that both of your paths heavily lie on the Sybil that you love, and the child that grows within her Dibellan womb..."
The assassin nodded and then frowned, turning to the broken pot once more...noting the absence of wheat. In his vision, he had three children but the first had been a girl. A pretty, little girl. Lucien Lachance again swallowed hard before taking in a shaky breath. He had heard once of women trying to predict the gender of their children. He once paid it little mind, now he scoured his memory for anything to aid him. "Barley grew...That holds significance. Does that mean that the child is male or female?"
"Male, but it is not always so..." Lucien's little, cold heart sank into the pit of his stomach. Male. Whether or not this child was his, the gender proved problematic. He felt the weight of the herbs in his pocket as though they were fashioned from pewter molds. It seemed his decision was already made for him. "It is not always so, young man. I only pray you take all into consideration before action. Perhaps, you should discuss this with your Sybil, after all?"
"No." The assassin responded swiftly, turning from the witch and allowing the sun to warm his cold features. "She can never know of this. It is for the best. Whether or not the child is mine...if it is male, it cannot be. It is unfortunate. I regret it already, but the child must die." The assassin glanced over to the witch who nodded mutely, looking unfazed towards his decision. "I suppose I can take comfort in the possibility of it being the spawn of an undead..."
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I glared at Lucien once he and the witch returned to the cottage. He smiled at me, broad and sweet, which irked me further. "It is time for us to take our leave now, Abigale. Much to do." He said with false charm as he offered me a hand to rise with, a hand that I childishly snubbed.
"What was all that about?" I asked as boldly as I could as Melisande brushed by us and back to the components on her bed. "Am I the only one to be left in the dark? Am I to believe that my blood was wanted only to make plants grow? I am not that foolish."
"Did you not see the effects of your blood on said plants?" Lucien chided, fingers dropping to my shoulder. "A valuable commodity for a witch, indeed. Be thankful she did not ask you to make water on them in the stead of blood." I cringed, glancing over to the witch who only carefully began to sort her goods, mute and uncaring for the assassin's presence and mine. Lucien too noticed her current preoccupation and applied a small pressure to my body, leading me to the door. "Come, before we overstay our welcome. Our business here is concluded, for now."
Wordlessly, we left the cottage. I glared at the assassin's back as he whistled for Shadowmere who was all too eager to retrieve us. Once situated, I was surprised as Lucien turned the mare to the north. I frowned as we began to move off and into the wood in a soft trot. "Where are we going? Panther River is -"
"Cheydinhall, my dear." The assassin interrupted before I could finish posing my thoughts into question. "We are returning to my Sanctuary. Did you really believe I would have you accompany me to kill a dangerous vampire? No. You shall be housed by my Family once more."
xxxx
It was well into the evening by the time the assassin and I entered his Sanctuary. I had pushed the entire Drakelowe ordeal from my mind as a new problem was posed as we neared Cheydinhall. Apparently, Lucien was going to leave me in his Family's care. However, that was not the main issue. No, the main issue was my new overseer was to be none other than Vicente Valtieri.
As Lucien believed the elder vampire to be the most capable of watching over my person, I was forced to agree. I was anything but joyed by the idea and did argue as much as I was willing to along the road. All proved fruitless as Lucien Lachance was resolute in my caretaker. Again, it angered me. I still harbored much resentment for the Breton, though I knew not entirely why his image in my mind's eye infuriated me so. I considered that it was perhaps caused by our last conversation, which happened to be our first private one, revolved around him deceiving me with extreme ease. He was a master manipulator, much like Lucien. But unlike Lucien, Vicente tried to hide this truth about himself. My assassin showed his true colors plainly to me, whereas Vicente Valtieri tried to hide behind a mask of compassion and friendship...and I fell for all like a good little pawn.
As we wound further into the heart of Lucien's Sanctuary, I again clung to the assassin, head bowed and face pulled into a frightened pout as I stared at my shoes as I walked. Lucien could be gone for a day, or four, or a week. He did not know how long he was to be away, as he had to first find the powerful vampire cave and then slay him. All would take time and planning. In that time, I was to be alone with his Family and spend my time in his chambers as though they were my own. I knew as Speaker, Lucien Lachance was the pinnacle of power. Me hiding in his shadow and housed at his pleasure did bring me a semblance of comfort to myself...but I worried for him. Vampires were anything but weak beings, I had known this firsthand. Lucien was strong but he was mortal and I feared for his safety.
"Will you please let me come?" I again pleaded in a whisper at my shoes to the robed assassin, worrying my lip as I eventually risked a glance at him. "You said my restoration is growing stronger each day. I-I could aid you...should you need it."
"No Abigale, I will not put you in danger as a cautionary measure to myself." The assassin quipped, fixing me with a look as we carefully descended some stairs, making our way closer to Vicente's lair. "I appreciate your concern, my dear. It truly warms me...but you are not a traveling potion... I promised your safety. Here you shall be in the most capable hands, besides my own."
"Then let me selfishly say that I do not wish to be here without you." I tried, reaching out to tentatively grab the sleeve of Lucien's robe, thankful that we had not yet bumped into one of his Family Members. Although kind to me, the residence of his Sanctuary were still very terrifying. Without Lucien, I was afraid and unsure. Mostly, though, I worried for Lucien. I could not stop worrying for him. I was willing to try any excuse to accompany him on his venture. "T-this task is also mine. Please, let me join you. This place...it is your world. I do not fit here without you."
He stopped and eyed my hand, sighing before placing his own upon it. "I know you are uncomfortable here and my presence only lessens such a feeling. You are right to be fearful of this place, but I am Speaker. No harm will come to you, my dear. You are Family now."
"But not by action or blood. I am 'Family' only by your word." I insisted.
"Yes, my word, and I am Speaker. My voice is the voice of the Black Hand. The Members of this Sanctuary - they will obey me, as should you, whilst inside these stone walls." The Speaker commanded, albeit hushed and gently. "I do not mean to sound unkind to you but you must be kept safe, Abigale. My private Sanctum can prove too dangerous if I am gone for an extended amount of time. Should I put you up in even the finest of Inns, you would be confined to your rooms, and not by me, but by yourself, as you and I both fear for your safety while alone and in the open. It has proven dangerous. And taking you with me is equally brash and foolish. No. Here you shall remain, as I wish. Please, try to be accepting and do this. If not for me, then for yourself. Choose safety, my dear."
We eventually rounded the final corner, standing before Vicente Valtieri's chambers. Lucien pulled me to the side, his gloved hand going to my cheek as he stared at me mutely for a moment before continuing, his voice dropping lower, just above a whisper. "I only long to keep you from harm. Should anything happen to you..." He paused, the idea hanging in the air as his look intensified. The assassin then leaned in quickly, capturing me against the stone of his Sanctuary, his lips to my own. The action had startled me and instinctively I flinched. Soon, I relaxed and permitted the touch to deepen, tilting my head and parting my lips to allow Lucien to kiss me in the way he delighted in.
Before his touchings could progress and before I could fully enjoy his embrace, Vicente Valtieri's door opened and the vampire himself stood in its frame. I stared at him, as Lucien continued to ravage my mouth. I tapped the assassin's shoulder, cheeks flushing and shame rising at the look of disappointment on the vampire's features. The Speaker did not relent until Vicente cleared his throat, causing Lucien to pull away hastily. In an instant, Lucien Lachance channeled his desires and stowed them away, cool confidence and control resurfacing.
"Ah, Brother. Just the vampire I happened to be looking for."
Author's Notes: THE END. XD Nah, just the end of this chapter. Sorry for its shortness but as I said earlier, it's getting difficult to keep up with my huge updates. I hope you guys can forgive me!