Author's Notes: Here it is! Thanks to all who reviewed! Your continued support is why this story gets updated! Thanks a million! Oh, and I forget to mention a few chapters back, bleeding after intercourse is normal during the early stages of pregnancy...so, there ya go! X) And on another quick note, my experience with Hindaril was very similar to Lucien's XD I worked up a small reason for this...you'll see. AND *dodges thrown shoe* I will be posting every other week. The next update should be on the 7th!
Love or Blood
Chapter Sixty-seven: Underground
xxxx
Lucien Lachance and I entered his chamber for the evening. I sat on the edge of his bed, again glaring hard at his back as he locked the door and began to disrobe. His conversation with Vicente Valtieri had been brief but was well received by his 'Brother' - disturbingly well received. The Speaker wished for Vicente to watch over me while he traveled off to kill another vampire, the one by the name of Hindaril, as per the witch Melisande's request. Unfortunately for me, Lucien was unsure just how long he would be off. The witch provided directions but the assassin still needed to track down the vampire's lair. He also needed to purchase more provisions and supplies for his trek. Then, of course, there was the act of slaying the powerful creature. Presently, that happened to be my greatest of woes.
The Speaker was undoubtedly strong, cunning and agile, but Melisande had spoken once of the power of Hindaril. He was a great and dangerous foe. Although capable, I feared for my assassin. I did not want him to go. I did not want him to leave me. I did not want him to get hurt...
"Please, reconsider." I again sighed, losing my glare to my own mournful thoughts and frowning at Lucien as he turned. The assassin flashed me a small and disingenuine smile, one plainly saying that he was not entirely comfortable with our upcoming separation but felt it was best.
"You are beating a dead horse. A rotting, dead horse." He tried playfully, but his eyes grew stern. I felt myself wither further under his black stare, worrying my lip with my teeth at the resolute look. "I am sorry, Abigale. This has to be. You shall be safe here, although uncomfortable. Try to enjoy the privacy. Enjoy the town. Enjoy the bed and pillows. You may also do as you wish with no one ruling you. Roam free...but I implore you to arm yourself wisely and have someone accompany you, should you leave the Sanctuary. Or at the very least, let others know where you will be. I shall leave you with a purse of gold; browse the shops and buy yourself something without my moping." I bowed my head, staring down at my hands as Lucien tried further to persuade me. His bribes did not work, he and I both knew this. Lucien took a deep breath before exhaling slowly through his nose, growing frustrated with my unyielding doubt. "...Abigale, it would be irresponsible, foolish and selfish if I dragged you along with me."
I looked up to him quickly, pleading once more. "It would not be dragging! I will go willingly with you."
"No." Lucien snapped, voice dropping low and stare hard. I gulped and turned from him sharply, again biting into my lip, harder this time to stop its tremble. I knew I was not very useful but my restorative powers could help the assassin, should he need it, and I feared he would. I did not love Lucien Lachance, no, but I cared for the man greatly and my affection for him steadily grew with each passing day. I worried. I had enough to worry about and block my heart from, this was but another great and terrible circumstance that I could not aid in, simply because Lucien disallowed me.
"I-I am only trying to help you. I do not doubt your abilities but I -"
"I know you wish to help me, my dear." Lucien stopped me, his tone growing gentle as he joined me on his bed. "And I appreciate it. I truly do...but I cannot have you join me. Not this time." His hand went to my shoulder, applying small pressure before dragging me down to rest on his own. "Try to view this from my standing. Do you really expect me to drag you off willingly into danger? I promised your protection and I meant it. I shall do all that is in my power to keep you safe. Thrusting you before a hostile vampire, something you have been forced to face before is a great counter to my vow. Don't you agree?" I gave a small, reluctant nod, leaning further into the familiar warmth of Lucien's body, already missing the intimacy of him being so close and constant. "And you are not a walking healing potion, Abigale. I should not have to point out such things. You accompanying me would be impossibly greedy of me, as I am tempted to bring you for other more personal reasons... I confess I am not relishing the time we will be apart..."
Nodding, I ran my hand up the assassin's chest, closing my eyes as my fingers wandered the contours I had now memorized. "Nor am I."
"But you will be fine," Lucien reassured, his hand falling over mine. "As will I. It will simply be a strenuous trial for us both. We cannot be attached constantly. There will be times where I must leave you. Let this be a test, hmm? For the both of us."
"...I suppose I do not have a choice in this matter. I must accept your test." The assassin further wrapped his fingers around my hand, capturing it and bringing it upwards to plant a kiss upon my knuckles.
"Yes, you must...You cannot accompany me. Not this time, my dear." He muttered against my skin, the scratch of his coarse facial hair making me pout once more, as I knew soon I was to be without it. Over the last two passing months, I had grown remarkably close to the man who once wanted me only for my flesh. It was an odd change, perhaps a totally unthinkable one, as I had once been petrified and repulsed by Lucien Lachance. However, I grew to know him, his darkness and his strange affection. He was my protector, as he claimed to be. He was a man who loved me with my permission, all the while knowing that my heart was still held by another. Another I did all I could to keep from my thoughts. Another whom I could only visit in my dreams...
The assassin's lips continued to climb the length of me, wandering from my fingers to my elbow, then shoulder and neck. I wallowed in self-pity and basked in sensation, tilting my head back so that Lucien would have more of me to caress before reaching my mouth. His hands went to my back and he began to peel my clothing away. I stared up at the stone of the ceiling, my arms instinctively wrapping around the assassin's neck. I was soon beneath him, his lips finally closing over my own as my head hit the pillow, my bosom freed from the dress and brassiere I wore. Roughened fingertips grazed me as he palmed my flesh, rolling and weighing my breasts in his hands. I moaned into his kiss, my hands slipping from his back to his shoulders so that I could hold him.
Lucien Lachance pulled away from me for a moment, fingers going into my hair, his mouth hovering over my own. "This is but a step towards our success, Abigale. I promised you a pretty life. Let me keep that promise." I nodded to him, desperate for the blessed distraction of sex. Our lips again met as his hand wandered into my skirt, the heat of him causing me to frown once more. My heart raced with anticipation while aching at my impending loneliness. "We simply must tolerate these new temporary partings. But worry not, as I have already seen our future, my dear. It will be wondrous."
I could not help but scoff the smallest bit. Despite having me regularly, Lucien would do or say anything in attempts to charm me. Still, I enjoyed his methods, his hands, and his words. I hummed in thought and at all the pleasurable sensations, wondering for a moment how I would be alone. Shamefully, I wondered how I would prevail without the assassin's body at my beck and call... "I will miss your ever wandering touch and silver tongue so very much, you rogue." I teased, my attempted playfulness dying once his hand slipped past the final bit of cloth between us and ventured to my sex. In moments I was rendered breathless.
"Miss more than that, Abigale." He murmured into my flesh, the command accompanied with another kiss before he put his mouth to my ear, voice low and husky. "Miss me."
"I will," I near babbled with sheer earnest as a private proclamation to the assassin. Desperately, I sought to appease Lucien, my own methods quickly mirroring his as I was ready to say or promise anything to secure the removal of his trousers.
"Would you still promise such a thing if I was not already inside you?" He inferred with a wicked grin. I swallowed thickly as his hand stilled, nodding hurriedly to pacify the insecurities that belonged to the man of my current desires. Anything to make him continue. Anything to progress. And thankfully, my desperate nod worked to satisfy Lucien. His expression turned appreciative, almost tranquil. He kissed me once more and soon we were entangled. The assassin wasted no time in removing what remained of my clothing and his before settling himself again between my thighs. I whimpered loudly at the feel of his arousal teasingly set against my sex as he prolonged our joining. My whimper turned into a whine as he remained still. I tugged at his shoulders greedily as he snicked down at me, finding sadistic joy in my frantic desire.
"Lucien," I complained, my hand sliding between us to guide him to me, my actions being halted by the assassin's own hand wrapping around my wrist and thwarting my efforts.
"Shh, my dear. Not so loudly. We are in my Sanctuary. You do not want all to hear your begging echoed, do you?" He taunted, causing me to blush and still beneath him. My gaze flickered to Lucien's door, worried that a possible audience could be stationed outside of the assassin's chambers. My worries soon died, however, and I gasped loudly as the assassin entered me carelessly. Any and all restraint was tossed to the wind by both the assassin and myself. Our impending parting brought out our passions tenfold, audience or no.
xxxx
Some hours later, the sound of rustling clothing woke me. Lucien Lachance stood in the room's far corner, again fully robed and cloaked as he prepared himself to leave. I frowned at the sight, rubbing some weariness from my eyes as I sat up the smallest bit, preparing to address him carefully. Although already having won the battle of not allowing me to accompany him back to the Nibenay Basin, I was not yet ready to completely give into his will. There happened to be some form of fight left in me, albeit slight. "Lucien...let me come with you." I pleaded softly at his back for the final time, causing the man to sigh deeply before slowly turning to me.
"I admire your persistence, I shall give you that, my dear. But you are supposed to be sleeping, not starting this endless back-and-forth again." He remarked in a dry tone. I only pouted once more and instinctively pulled the blankets further over my nakedness as he approached the bedside. The Speaker sat, pressing me gently back into the mattress as he did so. For a moment he was quiet, simply looking over my features, eventually brushing my hair from my face with another great sigh. "I feel that I could simply stare at you for eternity. It is most difficult to stifle the urge to rejoin you in bed."
"So join me." I again tried, reaching up to touch the cheek hidden within the assassin's hood. "I...I am afraid of being alone. Especially here."
"I know." Lucien nodded, frowning slightly at my confession. "But you need not be. No harm will come to you here. You are safe, I assure you."
"I never would have dreamt myself to be so dependent on your presence. I-I will miss you every day -" In an instant, a similar circumstance played in my mind with the echo of my words. I stared up into Lucien's black gaze, so different from the pair of garnet eyes I had once looked into... "H-hurry back. Be quick." I nervously added, Lucien's brows furrowing as he noted the rising tears in my eyes. Even in the darkness of his bedchamber, the ever perceptive assassin caught my sorrow...but could not accurately place its root. Not this time.
"I shall be as swift as I am able. Do not weep, my dear. Upon my return, more will change. We will slowly build together so that when I must take my leave, you shall be in a more desirable place for yourself. I am sorry again for this inconvenience but my unique Family is yours now. Do accept them."
"I do...or I am trying to. A-and it is not all your Family, Lucien," I interjected, wiping at my tears and cursing them, cursing the image of another who plagued me while a man who cared soothed me to the best of his abilities. I was a horrible person, even to Lucien Lachance, who was a horrible man to all but me... "They make me uncomfortable, yes b-but it is not them. I just feel an emptiness within me and you are not yet gone...It is pathetic, I know."
"Not at all. I do understand the desires for companionship and yours are stronger, being that you have been under someone's constant care..." The assassin fixed me then with a false, sheepish grin. "And regrettably, my care sometimes proves to be a small touch lopsided."
This caused me to smile through my tears. "More as crooked, much like your grin. Your smirk." I slipped my hand from his cheek to his lips to touch the very same crooked smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. I stared, watching and wondering not only how I was to cope with the impending loneliness, but also with the thoughts that would surely follow with the absence of my assassin. The thoughts of another. Despite our intimacy, despite my need for his company, I considered Lucien Lachance something akin to a friend. A friend I would lie with regularly. Live with. Hopefully, one day, I would learn to love the man, for presently, my heart still belonged to another. It was a great betrayal to both men. I knew I was meek, my behavior repulsive - a complete coward in every regard - but I could do nothing for the love in my heart to another but wait for it to die. Just as I waited for love towards the assassin to bloom.
I dearly hoped for both my sake and Lucien's, that it would.
Sniffling once more, I accepted the assassin as he scoffed before bending down to kiss me. "No more weeping, Abigale. You are making this excruciating and it need not be." The assassin patted my head before he stood, collecting his satchel from the floor. "Goodbye, my dear. I shall return, fast as I am able, without being too reckless..." He muttered, moving towards the exit of his chamber...but then Lucien Lachance paused, his hand hovering over the door latch for a long moment. The assassin's hand retracted slowly. Lucien turned to me once more and stared. Eventually, his stillness vanished as he hastily made his way forward, removing his glove as he did so. His expression was oddly determined as he pocketed the gauntlet. I then watched curiously as the assassin tugged at the black ring he wore, wrenching it from his finger wordlessly.
Lucien took my hand in his own and placed the small black band in my opened palm. He closed my fingers around it, his throat dipping as he swallowed hard before speaking again. "Hold this while I am gone. The ring is very dear and aches me to part with it - much like yourself. Consider it is a piece of me, if you will. Keep it close. I present it to you now as a token of my trust and love." I stared up at Lucien, feeling my cheeks grow pink at the intensity of the assassin's stare. I nodded carefully, bringing my closed fist to my chest and feeling...moved. "May Sithis guide us both in this new stage of our life's journey..." Lucien crouched down by the bedside, one hand working into my hair, the other falling to my lower belly. "And may he give me strength for future trials towards the purification of our union."
Lucien's small and odd prayer surpassed my depth of comprehension. The assassin had a way with speaking and at times I had trouble with his expressive use of words. I did not know what he longed to 'purify', nor did I grasp his meaning at all. However, I hung onto his statement of love and remained ever quiet as he kissed me once more before sweeping from the room in a flurry of black shadow.
xxxx
Many hours slowly ticked by. I remained in the assassin's room, eventually washing and dressing, attempting to busy myself with what little was accessible to me. Unfortunately, this proved remarkably difficult, as there was little within Lucien Lachance's room that held my attention pleasantly. It was plentiful in disturbing illustrations of anatomy and of all our internal workings - men, mer, and beast...but I did not like looking at them. There was also books on weapons and magic, the art of death and his religion...and I did try to school myself in that a bit. I attempt to learn of the assassin's God, even if only to understand Lucien more but all felt too gruesome. I needed to take such darkness in slowly, so all was literature was carefully set aside.
I sat on his bed, listening intently to the echoes of Lucien's Family outside of his door. Although 'innocent' and familiar, the sounds were frightening. It seemed the place was busy, as it always proved to be. I forcibly turned my attention to the ring Lucien Lachance had me hold. It was large, of course, having to fit around the assassin's finger and although the band seemed quite plain it emanating strong magicks. The ring's material was also unknown to me; it was utterly black with no engravings, gems or carvings whatsoever. I could not find even the slightest indication as to why the nonmaterialistic assassin would wear it...besides the fact that all in his Family wore an identical piece...and there was the reason why.
Swallowing hard and flushing slightly, I again thought of Lucien's words before he left me. Trust and love. Again the assassin admitted his love in a much more tender way than his last confession. His words stirred something within me, as did his actions. He wished for me to do as I wanted, walk about freely and enjoy myself. His only request was for me to be mindful and take caution as I did so...no one had ever trusted me to do that, and I knew his affections blinded him toward my utter helplessness, but the assassin believed that I could care for myself, at least a small bit. All he did warmed me inside.
And love...I did not love Lucien. I did not...but perhaps I could try to. Try harder too.
A sudden knocking on the assassin's chamber door frightened me. I jumped from Lucien's bed and stared at its entrance, feeling unnerved and at odds with what to do. With great effort, I forced my movements and cautiously made my way forward. The Speaker had warned me on my first visit to be respectful, so I believed those rules still applied. Despite my natural hesitance, I went to open the door to greet one of the many killers.
"Psst, Lady Abigale! It's me, Nerah!" Sounded an equally sudden voice from beyond the door before I could even hope to open it. "Can I come in? Speaker Lachance left hours ago. Don't worry, though! We can't, you know, eat you or anything." Her polite reassurance made me grimace, but I hastily opened the door and was greeted by the tall, red-eyed, Imperial girl. As ever, she was clad in her black armor, her hair tousled and dark as coals. She smiled, showing me pleasantly crooked teeth and sharp fangs as she did so. "Phew! Hey! I was worried that the Family Man pulled you apart and left your bits askew in his room! You are insanely quiet, you know. It's a touch creepy."
Blinking, I wetted my lips and opened the door wider, subconsciously flashing the very unbloodied Speaker's room for Nerah Vlando to view. "I...I am sorry for it. I am intact though..." I managed, stepping back some, trying to be as polite as possible and invite the young vampire in, should she wish to enter...which, she did.
"Whoa. It's a little unnerving to be in here without my Speaker." Nerah balked, looking about the room widely, her expression much like mine had been during my visit to the Arcane University. Even whilst brooding, it was a very pretty place. "He's only allowed me in his chambers...hmm, three times since I've been with the Brotherhood? All for Brotherhood reasons, of course. Like: 'Recite the Tenets, Miss Vlando' or 'No more drinking, Miss Vlando...Snap at me again and I'll eat your damn soul and like it, Miss Vlando'..." Again she grinned before pulling out a chair at Lucien's table and helping herself to sit, leaving me still stunned by her abrupt mannerisms and her eerily good impression of Lucien's voice. "Since you've been around, life's been smooth here! I am as pleased as peaches with him gone all the time. I owe you my thanks."
"I...did not know peaches were pleased." I began nervously, causing the Imperial to snicker. Cautiously, I took a seat on the bed after closing the door the smallest bit, leaving it ajar should any other Family Members wish to visit. I had to be polite and respectful. I was a guest here, this was their home. "But you are welcome, I suppose."
"So, how are you holding up?" She asked quite randomly, to which I answered with an instinctive shrug and hopefully 'pleasant' smile. "This is...quite a switch, huh? I, uh...did not know if...Sithis, I don't know." Nerah Vlando gave a small and sudden curse under her breath as she rubbed the back of her neck nervously. "I'm not good with apologies or anything, but...I am sorry. Orders are orders. Back in Skingrad I really wanted to...ya know, tell you something was rotten but I couldn't tell you. What my Speaker and Vicente tell me to do - I do. I can only obey their orders."
Frowning at the Imperial, I only nodded. Truthfully, that terrible night was mostly a blur and I remembered little. I had nearly forgotten Nerah Vlando's presence at all, being that it was so brief, as she had fled early from the dawn. "I sympathize," I muttered, knowing all too well of my previous bondage and the strange form I was presently in now. "It is not your fault. Do not trouble yourself with any guilt. All blame is mine."
"Hardly!" Nerah interjected before shaking her head. "The blame belongs to my Vicente, my Speaker, and your Count."
"He is my Count no longer." I snapped, surprising myself with the bitterness of my tone. I blanched at the confusion on Nerah's face before mumbling an apology and continuing. "Forgive me, the topic is still tender. But the Count is no longer mine, he never was. Now, Lucien - your Speaker - has secured me with an offering of himself. I belong to him now, as well as any underling, I suppose..."
"You cannot belong to Lucien, as you already belong to another, Miss Abigale Lynn." Came the cool interjection from the hallway. Nerah and I both turned, her wincing slightly at the sight of her Brother, while my cheeks turned and angry, indignant pink. Vicente Valtieri stood in the door's opening, hand lightly pushing the wood further open, his expression regal as he regarded me with interest. I only glared, anger steadily rising within me. "It is a fact that none of us have forgotten, although it seems some wish to gloss over its truth. Not an easy thing to brush aside, and going by your ruthless glare at myself, not a welcome topic for discussion."
Nerah glanced between Vicente and I, clearly at odds about what to say or do. However, the elder vampire made her mind up for her as he extended his hand and spoke again. "Nerah, I require a private moment with Miss Abigale Lynn. Would you be so kind as to gift it to us?" Without a word, Nerah Vlando stood and exited the room, casting me a nervous glance as she did so before vanishing down the hall. Vicente stepped further into the chamber with me and I stiffened...but not from fear.
"You have something to say to me?" I asked, forcing a modicum of politeness, feeling heat and wrath wash over my every inch. I forced myself not to act on the strange violence within me, no matter how hard it felt to stifle.
"Actually, yes, I very much do."
"Well, you have waited for Lucien's absence before daring your approach, so I can only imagine what you have longed to say." I snipped, doing all that I could to keep the hostility from my voice as I crossed my arms. "But that seems to be your pattern, Master Vicente. You wait for whomever presides over me to leave so that you may plant your seeds of discord. I am ignorant no longer in that regard, so please do not take me for such a fool again. Your Speaker has taught me much..."
The vampire blinked in surprise, his eyes searching me as he stepped closer. "I see that now. Lucien has sunk his claws into you deeply. Perhaps it is for the best." He muttered, adjusting his black tunic as he gestured to the bed I sat upon with a want to sit. "May I?"
Eyeing the chair Nerah had previously occupied, I furrowed my brow. "Occupy my more intimate space? No, you may not. The bed is not mine, I cannot permit who sits upon it. The chair is best."
"Your 'no' was perfectly clear, Miss Abigale Lynn," Vicente mumbled, moving to take the seat opposite the mattress. Instinctively, I moved back some, thinking of the last time I had been alone with the vampire and how he, in a matter of shameful moments, caused my entire way of thinking to flip. "I am sorry all has come to this. I suppose your hate and distrust for me is completely justifiable. And you are correct, I do wait until your companions are away before I dare approach you. My reason for that is to avoid hostility. We both know that you attract dangerous men prone to violence. It is best to tread cautiously for both our sakes."
"An astute observation and wise decision," I grunted, twirling my hair as I avoided the vampire's gaze.
"Abigale Lynn," Vicente sighed, rubbing his temples, his voiced laced with exasperation. "Hate me all you like. I am sorry for all the trouble I have caused you. Try to understand that my motives were pure. I worried for Janus. I knew of Rona and have tried my best to help him for over forty years in regards to her. When you came into his life, the man seemed...alive again. Once things between you both became unstable, I knew I had to remove you while he resolved his inner conflicts. I would never have imaged my Speaker to have gone to such lengths to secure you in his care. I thought you would be with me..."
"As did I when we made the arrangement," I answered him guardedly, swallowing the bite from my tone. "But that was not to be. So, you promised me Nerah and her 'Brother'. I did not understand the significance of the term then."
"Yes...I apologize. I know I acted rashly, but I knew that I had to deceive you no matter the cost, especially once I discovered Lachance's intent. He is my Brother, I love him thusly, but I know of his determination and desires. This is why I implemented the amulet. I wanted to assure you and myself that you were under no threat. I am sorry that it failed. I failed." Vicente laced his fingers together and sighed anew, looking dejected. His strong guilty tone had me very suspicious. I only watched the man before me with a skeptical gaze, unsure how to proceed or take his apology. I knew I could not trust him.
"The amulet did indeed fail. Before I arrived at your Sanctuary it slipped right off of my neck." I informed him, watching Vicente's expression again twist, this time to surprise. "Lucien Lachance did not take advantage of this misfortune, however. He returned it to me and warned me to be cautious with it. The clasp was temperamental."
"He tampered with it quite a bit before it reached your hands..."
I smiled bitterly at the vampire, leaning back the smallest bit as I did so. "I do not doubt that." Lucien would do such a thing, he was not above it. He longed to lull me, for the amulet to fall so that he could show me his 'benevolence'. It was a game and it had worked, but I felt we both came out winners in our own right. He had me, as he wanted, and I had life and the possibility of happiness and love...
"So, permit me," Vicente began, his eyes sweeping over my features curiously. "Why in Sithis' name are you so very attached to my Speaker, all the while knowing your state now is by his design?"
I stealthily rolled Lucien's ring in my palm, feeling its weight. Vicente posed a decent question. Most in my position would not have fallen to Lucien Lachance. They would be repulsed by him, his plans and desires. I, however, needed the assassin and had grown to care for him. Vicente Valtieri was very correct, as I did attract dangerous men, but I hoped to use such traits to my benefit. The Speaker cared for me and I found myself wondering if the depth of his affection ran deeper than the Count's. So long as his dangerous ways were not directed at myself, I would cope in time. The assassin had shown me much and done plenty to express his warmth for me...the ring I currently held spoke volumes. "Perhaps because he has been honest with me from the very beginning. He told me everything, from his motives to his wants...Lucien held nothing of that like from me."
"Dear girl, that man has many more secrets kept from you. Things that you could not possibly -"
"I know full well, Master Vicente," I interrupted, shaking my head forcibly. "I asked him to keep such things from me. I do not wish to know anything he does not feel prudent to tell me. I would much rather be kept in the dark on such matters. Nothing good comes from revealed secrets, as you well know. I want to remain ignorant to the mysteries of men."
The vampire sighed, looking fretful but said nothing else on the matter. Instead, he stood suddenly, the action causing me to recoil the smallest bit as he took a step closer, reaching into his pocket as he did so. "Alright. Here. This was my last letter from Janus. Perhaps you should read it." I blanched, staring at the crisp parchment Vicente brandished before me. I could see the Count's handwriting, my heart wrenching at the elegant scrawl.
Unthinkingly, Lucien's ring fell from my hand and plopped on the bed beside me. I reached for the letter, my movements as desperate as a man lost in the desert and offered a waterskin. However, the soft patter of the ring landing on the blankets stilled me. I turned, staring guiltily at the black band. My breath caught at my cruelty. Seeing the Count's paper, signature and sealing-wax caused me to momentarily forget the assassin. No, not forget - abandon his sentiments. I recaptured the ring, movements slow and shameful as Lucien's proclamation of love resounded in me. Vicente watched all with a curious brow which furrowed further as I gave a reluctant shake of my head towards the letter he held. "No...thank you."
"Wha-why not?" Vicente inquired, looking baffled towards my refusal.
"I cannot."
"This is proof of his affection!" The vampire insisted, smacking the parchment in his hand, causing me to flinch. "Why refuse him? Why accept Lachance? Janus loves you!" An image of the Count came to me and I felt my heart break anew. I felt defeated. I felt longing and fear. Mostly, I felt anger towards all of Nirn. I despised myself, the vampire before me and the vampire I loved. Again tears clouded my vision, but I steeled myself and straightened, meeting Vicente's stare the best I could. For a moment nothing was said as my chest rose and fell rapidly with my labored breathing, my heart racing despite my stillness. Hatred, desire, and confusion mixed together in my heart and caused my honesty.
"And I love him," I confessed, demanding myself to continue to look upon the vampire before me. "But I cannot be with him."
"Why?"
"He cannot love me as I love him. I am a possession and not a person. I understand his way of thinking and he is not wrong for it...But if I return, I will die. As his possession, he longs for my end so that I may be with him eternally. The Count longs to turn me, Master Vicente. I swore to him that if I returned I would do as he wished. Marriage and death...and I do not want to die."
"Janus is changing." Vicente gently implored, again gesturing to the letter in his hand. "He spoke before in anger and desperation. He did not mean his words. Please, reconsider him."
I frowned, again looking towards the parchment and aching to reach out to it. "I may..." I began, rolling the assassin's ring in my fingers as tore my attention from the note and looked back to the vampire who held it. "Tell me, has he relinquished his ownership of me?"
Silence followed my question. "Perhaps you should read for yourself?"
Anger bloomed within me once more, flourishing with reckless abandon. My cheeks reddened and my glare returned. I knew the answer to my question by Vicente's evasive response. The Count was not one to relinquish anything, especially not myself. However, yet again, the vampire hoped to deceive me. I was insulted and angry. "You no longer hold such influence over me, Master Vicente." I countered, standing from the bed to face the vampire. "I find your methods of deception distasteful."
"As I your relations with my Speaker." The vampire remarked swiftly, seemingly unperturbed by my brashness. "I suggest you end your affairs with him immediately. I took you from Janus to protect you. You being with Lucien Lachance intimately is equally dangerous as the Count's state two months ago. More dangerous, to be accurate."
"Who are you to declare such a thing? Lucien Lachance has not lain one finger on me in anger." I snapped, staring up at the vampire, my heart panging as I thought of another who was not above hurting me. "I...I cannot say the same for the Count, no matter how much I care for him and love him - the truth is the truth."
Vicente moved even nearer, which evoked a scowl on my features as his expression lightened, secret knowing about his stare. "But you do not love Speaker Lachance, do you, Abigale Lynn?"
I swallowed thickly, lifting my chin to the vampire as a smirk slowly snaked its way across his lips. "What concern of that is yours?"
"Dear girl, what do you think will occur when Lucien finds that your heart is firmly attached to the Count? You and I both know of the love you still feel for the man. How long do you think Lachance's patience will last you? What will he do when he discovers your affection stunted?" I stiffened for a moment as Vicente eyed me from my head to my shoes, gauging my doubt, smelling my fears...
"He will kill." I eventually managed, my glare never faltering, not even once the vampire placed his cool hands upon my shoulders. Vicente's thumbs lightly touching the flesh of my neck elicited so many feelings, images, and thoughts of the Count...On shameful instinct, I turned my head away and waited. Longed. Vicente thought the act was a haughty gesture, that I had no longer wished to look upon him. Thankfully, he was completely oblivious to my offering. I wanted the vampire to bite me and I was not surprised in the least by the impulse. Much like sex, I could close my eyes and imagine another. Fangs tearing into my skin could transport me for a moment.
"Precisely. If I was able I would put a stop to this impending violence. However, Lucien is my Master and thus I can do nothing, should he turn his blade to you. Speaker Lachance - I am powerless to. Whereas Janus happens to be a different story entirely. Should he ever harm you again, I can take action against him and correct the man." Snapping from my stupor, I blinked and looked up to Vicente, puzzled by his words.
"Why would you go to such lengths for me? Why would you hurt your friends for my sake?" Although posing the question, I already knew the answer. I remembered Vicente's touching me in the Count's manor and his hasty apology for doing so. It seemed I had another who fell for the Dibellan charm. My stare turned inquisitive as I wondered how I could work the three-hundred-year-old vampire before me. While Lucien was away, could I be safe under Vicente's care or would he fall to temptation and hunger as the Count had?
"Because I care for you. You are the lover of my friend and now the lover of my Speaker as well. I know where you are better off to be, and it is not here."
"Thank you for your concern over my welfare but it is not required." I tried, forcing my tone to be as gentle as possible. Without hesitation, I then reached up to place my hands over Vicente's, relishing the coldness of his skin. I looked deeply into Vicente's ruby gaze and identified the quiet longing there. Vicente could control himself, I believed, as he had centuries to perfect the skill. He also held great knowledge that I hoped to utilize while Lucien Lachance was away. He was a Breton, his magic could be passed unto me now that the amulet was no longer a hindrance. He could protect me too, should I need it, as he earlier proclaimed... "I love the Count of Skingrad, Master Vicente, though I hope one day this will no longer be true." I began carefully, doubting such a thing could ever hope to be. "Your Brother has secured a place in my heart, even if small...as you have too."
XXXX
Lucien Lachance had little difficulty locating the vampire's lair. In two days time, he had purchased all needed supplies for dispatching an undead and tracked the beast down, finding the nest to be in an old cave called Redwater Slough by the locals. He camped outside, some distance off and waited for morning. After all, the assassin knew from experience how weak vampires tended to be with the coming of the dawn.
The Speaker again poked his crackling fire with a long stick, Shadowmere at his back as he sat upon the ground. Lucien longed for sleep but presently found himself unable. He missed the warmth of the woman he had come to care for. The assassin hoped she was doing well with his Family...
Yes, he missed his Abigale Lynn. In his free hand, he clutched her lock of hair, occasionally bringing it to his nose to inhale the lingering scent. He longed for her embrace with great intensity and needed to comfort himself like a child. Shadowmere again whickered at him, finding sadistic humor in his longing, though she too missed the Dibellan and all her soothing magicks. The assassin tossed the stick into the fire before he pushed at the mare, chuckling warmly.
"Oh, my dear friend, I do so miss our little companion." Lucien began, leaning back into the large, black horse. "I believe she is the one for me. No, I know she is the one for me. I have seen our fate, as I have told you. We have an entire future that I cannot wait to attend. Watching all unfold was much like a symphony, so very beautiful. And, of course, I am very glad that you enjoy her as well, Shadowmere..." The assassin shifted slightly at the agreeing puff of air behind him, his thoughts soon swirling the woman of his desires and the child in her belly. "You and I, we have been together for years now. Decades...And in that time I have lost count of the precise number of souls sent to our Dread Father by my hand. The true whole of lives taken, the exact number of men slain, eludes me. I have sent countless to the Void and now the definitive number of dead has escaped my knowing. Truly, I stopped the tally long ago. Yet now I grow curious as to my present state of mind."
Lucien frowned and stared up at the night sky. "Of all that time I have never been so hesitant as I find myself now. I have slain those of my own blood. I have dispatched children of all ages and even the unborn..." The assassin's frown deepened as he shifted his gaze to his hand, eyeing the pale ring of flesh where his ring was usually positioned, his mouth going dry. Lucien Lachance's brow furrowed. He loved Abigale Lynn. He loved her every part. The child in her belly could be his and it could not be. Regardless, it was her. A part of her that he was to end...
The assassin sighed. "I worry, my friend. I worry. Internally, I weep for the impending doom of a child that may not be my own. It twists me in ways that are foreign. I know that if it was ever wished by our Mother, the act would be done without hesitation. But it is not. I am alone in this decision and I though I do not doubt my abilities, I question my resolve." Lucien turned to watch Shadowmere, staring into her eyes, red as blood and equally as familiar. His words, when they left him - more as escaped - in a soft murmur. "Can I kill a part of the woman I hold so dear?"
The mare nodded in response. Lucien returned his stare to the cloudless night and eventually drifted off to sleep.
XXXX
The Count of Skingrad again sat with his Countess. He looked upon her form, gaze full of pity, heart full of grief. He realized, over the painfully slow weeks, that he had done so much wrong to his cold wife. As Abigale Lynn had once said, he made a fool of both women...but mostly of himself. The man existed off of his desires. As husband and wife, Janus and Rona simply existed in a strange union. Their love was odd, almost platonic, but it was still a strong sentiment, but not as strong as Janus' loneliness. And it was that poor feeling that kept Rona with him, it was was why his wife remained in her lowly state for a shamefully long time.
As husband and wife, Janus and Rona simply existed in a strange union. Their love was odd, almost platonic, but it was still a strong sentiment, but not as strong as Janus' loneliness. And it was that poor feeling that kept Rona with him, it was was why his wife remained in her lowly state for a shamefully long time.
Janus buried his face in his hand, memories playing out behind his eyelids. There was much pain, much needless suffering with only little good recollections. Their marital years had not been conventional but the Count had always assumed that was the way of nobility. He thought of his wife as a girl and himself as a boy. After his father had passed away, Janus took the thrown months after his marriage. Although thoroughly prepared for the station of Count, he was nowhere near ready to assume the role as husband. His parents were much like Rona and
He thought of his wife as a girl and himself as a boy. After his father had passed away, Janus took the thrown months after his marriage. Although thoroughly prepared for the station of Count, he was nowhere near ready to assume the role as husband. His parents were much like Rona and he. There was no passionate love there...truthfully, Janus' mother was a rather cold woman - the way the Count grew to believe all wives behaved.
So, the boy-Count found himself indifferent to the girl he had wed, until one faithful day when they had reached an understanding...
XXXX
A young Janus Hassildor strolled leisurely through his great hall, several friends at his back as he did so. They chatted on about this or that, and Janus tried to listen, he truly did, but his attention was mostly held by the document in his hand. He scratched his chin in thought as he weighed heavily on the best material for the reconstruction of his roads...
Eventually, the new Count dismissed his companions, gesturing to the documents before turning away. He had much to do and much to avoid. Namely, his mother and new wife. Presently, Janus could not stand either woman and had taken to sleeping in his study rather than share a bed with his bride. His mother was an equal nuisance, pestering him constantly, wondering why his wife was not yet pregnant.
Of course, Janus Hassildor would never admit that he was not permitted to bed a woman...nevermind his own wife. Such matters were embarrassing and not something he would speak of, especially not to his mother. As far as she was concerned 'timing' was everything and their supposed 'timing' was off.
So the Count pocketed his orders and slunk into the manor, brushing by several servants and staff as he did so, seeking seclusion. Eventually, Janus found an empty room and stowed away in it. The Count closed the door and again went to pull the papers from his pocket, soon finding that he was not the sole occupier of the chamber.
Rona Hassildor sat in the far corner of the Blue Room, hunched over at a desk, her arms folded and head rested in their nook. Janus debated on leaving, readying his retreat to avoid insult from his bride, but saw upon closer inspection that the girl was sleeping. At first glance, all appeared peaceful and tranquil, but as the Count's gaze swept over the slumped form of his new wife, he noted several scatterings of parchment by her feet and an unfinished letter upon the desk by her hands.
Janus frowned and stepped closer, noting more disturbing qualities of the woman before him. The letter she had begun to write and failed was blotted with tears, some ink bleeding onto his wife's gown and fingers, the smallest of smears upon her cheek. Janus swallowed hard as he stood at her back, turning his stare to the paper and steadily grasping its contents. His wife was writing a letter, a plea to another for patience, to wait for her. She begged and apologized, swore her hatred for her present marriage and vowed devotion to another. Janus only blinked. It seemed his wife had a reason for her distaste towards the young Count after all. She loved a boy of the Leyawiin guard but was selected against her will to marry himself...
The Count startled and stepped back as Rona woke with a gasp, hastily covering her writings as she demanded privacy. "Can't you and your mother leave me alone!?" She demanded in question, turning as red as a beet as she glared through a veil of tears. Janus only put his hands up in defense, apologetic but grateful for the discovery. So grateful.
"I am sorry," He began, cautiously. "As your husband, I worried what had so upset you." Rona only scoffed as she wiped her tears and declared him a liar. His wife stood, crumpling her paper quickly and moving to leave the room. Janus was quick to block her path, his hands going up once more. "No, no. We must speak about this. Please?"
"Why? What is there to say? You wish to tell your mother of my affairs and force a divorce? Shame me and my family? Have me labeled harlot?! Fine! Do so and I may be rid of you both!" The young Countess snapped, one little hand forming into a fist at her side while the other pointed a finger to his chest.
Janus stiffened, his own anger growing. However, the young Count managed to bite his tongue. In order to gain the upper hand with Rona Hassildor, one had to exploit the laws of the Nine and the Empire. The girl's piety was a deterrent, but Janus was determined to put an end to their hateful union and constant conflicts. Thusly, he was all too willing to use his station and status to grab her ear. "Calm yourself, Rona! I am your husband and Count. As such, you are to honor and obey me. Now I demand you cease this hostility at once!"
As expected, Rona puffed out her chest but retracted the smallest bit, her arms crossing hatefully as she turned to face away from her husband. "Now please," Janus began, dropping his sternness altogether, his voice and self turning tender. "I want to help you. I sympathize with your pains."
Rona scoffed once more, setting her sights hatefully on the young man before her. "How could you possibly hope to 'sympathize' with me? You were not taken away from your home and loved ones, thrust into a marriage and forced to bear some man's children!"
"No, but I was told that I was to share my life, home, and bed with a woman who hates me and my family." Janus reminded evenly, one black brow quirking.
"I do not hate you, I merely find your appearance too dark and manners repulsive." Rona quipped, her nose in the air.
"Dark?" Janus questioned childishly, his boyish vanity causing him to scrutinize his own complexion and compare it to the woman before him, overlooking the comment on his manners entirely... "I find your statement hypocritical. You are darker than me -"
"Not your skin, you- ugh, your hair! It is as black as death." The girl corrected, casting Janus another glare. "I prefer blondes or just...lighter hair."
This time the Count sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, eyeing the long brown braid down Rona's back. "Ah...as do I, I confess."
"Then we are equally matched in our disappointment of another's features and flesh."
Janus shook his head, muttering in agreement before slowly remembering the topic he wished to discuss. "We are also straying far from the matter at hand." He remarked desperately, trying to focus his attention on his forming idea. "Rona, do you not see? We are equally disappointed in this forced arrangement. Why bother hiding it?"
"I had no intentions of doing so."
"You misunderstand," Janus sighed, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. "I am the Count of Skingrad. In time, this farce marriage can be undone!" His declaration caused an immediate change in the woman before him. She blinked, looking confused and for the first time, a touch vulnerable. Her distrust was written plainly on her features. Rona appeared inclined to speak but pressed her lips as she further turned to face the young man before her. "I cannot create miracles, unfortunately, but we can annul this union. Neither of us are happy, nor did we want this. I am fully capable of picking my own wife and am completely willing and able to make a suitable match for you." Janus glanced to the crumpled paper still clutched in Rona's hand before continuing, being careful with his words and tone. "It seems your heart belongs elsewhere. As Count, I can have it arranged so that our marriage is invalid. After that, I can propose a match between you and your...lover?"
"Friend." Rona corrected, her voice desperate and eyes again glistening with unshed tears. "N-not yet lovers. I believed that I would be his wife one day, but I swore to myself to remain virtuous until married, regardless..."
"And I will not infringe upon your vows and virtues." The young Count reassured, having long given up any and all attempts at being intimate with his bride. The young Countess again looked skeptical, causing an almost illogical sense of panic to course through Janus' veins. His bride had proved to be a formidable foe when angered and could quickly make the young man miserable. Thankfully, she had no intentions of doing so this day. At least, not after Janus' proposal.
"You truly can undo this? And you would be willing to?" She eventually ventured, causing a great sense of relief to wash over the young Count.
"Yes. But like I said, I cannot perform miracles. This will all happen in time. With my mother still in a position of power, she will contradict and attempt to stop the proceedings. She would thwart my efforts and strive to keep our union valid." Janus explained, watching as Rona nodded in agreement, already knowing where the man's proposal was leading. "It is gruesome but we will have to wait until she is no longer with us...once the throne of Skingrad is mine and mine alone, we shall undo this facade."
Rona Hassildor grew quiet, watching her husband before her, eventually glancing between him and the floor in thought. "This could take years." She muttered sadly, and Janus too felt a weight on his shoulders at the thought and proposal. He did not like the idea of his mother passing, especially after his father had just gone from him...and he did not want to be alone, but neither he nor the girl before him deserved to exist in misery as his parents had done.
Janus cleared his throat and shook away the bitter thoughts. "But now I think we can venture these years on better terms. I want nothing from you, Rona. You are a lovely girl, smart and intelligent, but we are not compatible in any way. There is no need for us to suffer through the doings of our families." His bride nodded in agreement, looking down sadly at the paper she held. "I would never force you to stay. I would never force your affection. In time we will separate but I hope that until then...perhaps we need not be so hostile towards one another?" Janus tried, watching a curious expression form on Rona's face. "For the sake of appearances, we will act as husband and wife in public, but when we are alone -"
"We can be friends?" The Countess asked, causing Janus to inwardly startle. He would never have thought 'friends' existed in Rona's vocabulary when circling himself, but her look was hopeful. He nodded, smiling the smallest bit. He could manage a friendship with his wife.
XXXX
The steady drip, drip of water in the cave was the only sound to be heard in the blackness of Redwater Slough. As the light from the cracks in the old cave door slowly dissipated, the near deafening silence of the cavern grew, only to be punctuated by the occasional echoing drip as moister fell from the rock formations above. With carefully measured footsteps, Lucien Lachance wound his way down to the bowels of the cave. Sheer blackness greeted him, but the trained assassin welcomed the change. After all, the darkness was his element, his religion.
With the softest of murmurs, the Speaker cast a spell to detect any and all undead. After allowing himself a moment to memorize each flicker of unlife to his senses, he again began to move, his steps as silent as a whisper. As the magic left him, the assassin crept deeper and deeper into the cavern until he came upon his first foe. Prior to leaving the cave, Lucien Lachance dowsed himself in a potion of displacement, ridding him of any and all natural scent before donning his black leather armor and enchanted robes. The unholy cloaks of the Black Hand were particularly useful, as they gifted the Speakers of the Hand with even greater stealth, fortifying their natural abilities a step further, making them nearly undetectable to even the undead who could hear heartbeats...it muffled the sound, but not entirely. Thankfully, for the Speaker, plenty of rats inhabited the cave as well and helped him to masquerade around.
With the back of a vampire to him and vermin scurrying by his feet, Lucien remained undetected. The assassin drew his blade, treated with a poison of Silence and heavily enchanted, and struck. He aimed his sword between the beast's shoulders, attacking the dead heart, dropping the fledgling before it was even aware of the blade jutting from its chest...
The Speaker frowned as the creature crumpled. He eyed the very dead vampire with a curious brow. He rolled the beast over with the toe of his boot, examining the overly gaunt features that quickly worsened as the natural vampiric decaying process began. The truly dead vampire had dropped with startling ease, leaving the assassin to question the 'power' of Hindaril. The creature before him was no more troubling than a mudcrab. He had expected some sort of fight, regardless of his implements to remain undetected and was startled by the weakness of his target.
Lucien Lachance had been so baffled by the swift and silent death that he had given the vampire that he had been thoroughly taken off-guard as the sound of heavy footfalls rushing at him sounded from behind...
The assassin turned just in time to parry the blow of a longsword wielded by a tall Nordic female, sending her stumbling back. The Nord was clad in a low-cut iron breastplate and ill-fitting grieves, and pointed elven boots barely reaching her mid-calf. Much like her decaying kin by his feet, the woman was extremely gaunt, skin pulled with unnatural tightness across her bones. Her eyes glowed a strange amber, her fangs bared but hardly terrifying compared to what Lucien had before experienced personally.
Before the assassin could recover, the vampire came at him once more, his blade again catching hers before any damage was done.
Although still mildly surprised by the attack, the Speaker was further shocked as he pushed against the flat of his own blade and was met with little resistance. Vampires were powerful, he had trained with one and dispatched several in his own time, this was hardly a fight. The woman was unnaturally strong, yes, but not as brutal as she should have been. So the assassin formulated a plan to end the fight quickly, using her weakness against her. Lucien Lachance focused on keeping her occupied with his overpowering of her blade, breaking her stance as she began to panic, her legs spreading as she fought against him. With silent and brutal strength, the assassin kicked down onto the undead woman's knee. The vampire's bone splintered with a sickening snap, her cry reverberating off of the walls as she too crumpled by his feet, her sword still held in a tight fist. Lachance grimaced at her wail and glanced about the cave, knowing fully well that she had alerted more of her kin with the shout.
With determination and anger towards the lost element of surprise, Lucien again kicked the woman while she was down, his boot connecting to her jaw. The blow sent the vampire reeling back with great force. As her head collided with the stone beneath her, the assassin seized the moment. Lucien reached into the sleeve of his robe to swiftly and elegantly remove a silvered dagger. With power and precision, Lucien plunged his blade deeply into the disoriented beast's heart. She thrashed for a moment, some fight remaining in her chilled blood. However, being so robbed of his favored element, the assassin was no longer in the mood to play. Lucien exerted unneeded weight to his blade before sending a spell of flame to travel down its length, his gauntlets growing hot as steam billowed from the wound and the impaled vampire. She squirmed before succumbing, being the second creature unable to put up a challenge worthy of her state.
Now fully alert to his surroundings, Lucien retrieved his still white-hot dagger and turned. Remaining crouched over his second decaying victim, the assassin was all too quick and eager to plunge his blade into the belly of a leather-clad orc. Thankful that he had some element of surprise, the Speaker did a quick survey of his newest foe. The vampire stared, his face twisted in agony, the great axe he held over his head seizing in the air from pain. Again, this undead too had amber eyes and hauntingly sunken features. Of course, all that mattered little as Lucien's shortsword soon swiftly met with the hollow of the orc's throat before embedding in deeply.
Thus far, the greatest threat to the assassin happened to be the falling axe the vampire orc had dropped from shock. It clattered loudly to Lucien's right, as the man nimbly avoided the weapon. Lucien carefully rose to his feet, the undead still held in place by his blades as he did so. Once righted, the assassin then steadily pulled his dagger from the orcs putrid belly - being aided by the beast as he fumbled back, garbling hatefully on his own blood as he sought to gain his bearings. The Speaker eyed the thick, black blood inquisitively for a moment before sidestepping a sloppily thrown fist from the still staggering vampire. Like any good orc, the vampire longed to go down facing his foe. Unfortunately, Lucien Lachance was not so generous.
Lucien swept his leg quickly and knocked the famed agile beast right off of his feet and to his knees. The orc gurgled furiously and tried to stand, only to have his temple greeted by the sharpened pommel of the Speaker's blade. The vampire orc fell prone and unconscious, leaving Lucien Lachance pleased but confused...and perhaps the smallest bit disappointed.
Slinking into a darkened corner, the assassin eyed his blade, running his gauntleted fingers up its length. Her rolled the thick, oozing, black, poor excuse for blood between his thumb and forefinger, steadily forming a conclusion as to why these vampires proved to be so weak. With a frown, the assassin turned, finished off the orc with a blade through his back, again aiming for the heart. Coupled with a hearty stream of flames down his sword, the orc's demise was quickly sealed. Once the beast proved truly dead, Lucien set off once more, casting his same spell to find that only two more undead remained in the area, no doubt one was to be the 'powerful' Hindaril.
As the assassin ventured through corners and maneuvered around ankle-deep waters, he soon came to a small chamber. The room in question was stocked to the brim with shuddering cages. Upon further inspection, Lucien discovered the source of the vermin infestation and the reason for the vampire's weakness. The undead were breeding the rats for sustenance. Although keeping the vampire's alive - so to speak - it malnourished them greatly. Undead were not to survive on the blood of beasts, it did more harm than good, but what creature would go without food when it was readily available?
It was but another weakness for Lucien Lachance to exploit.
Along with the rats within the chamber, another pest skulked about the darknesses. Lucien eyed the shrieking rodent in the vampire's grasp as the beast drained the thing of blood. The assassin was quick to utilize the undead's preoccupation and the vermin's squeals as he smoothed himself against the cave wall and edged closer, his dagger at the ready. The vampiric Bosmer was blissfully ignorant to the looming shadow at his back. Bringing his blade down in a tight arc, the assassin sunk his dagger into his target's skull.
The rat fell, the undead hissed. Lucien quickly twisted his blade before tearing his weapon from the vampire. Again, the Speaker was surprised by the softness of the undead's skull, finding it no less pliable than the average bone. With that in mind, the assassin again unleashed his sword and tore into the vampire before him. It was not long before black spatterings of blood adorned the cave walls and whatever tattering bits of soul the undead creature possessed was then sent to the void.
The assassin gave his blade a quick cleaning on the tunic of the fallen mer, soon alerted to a gleaming in one of the shirt's pockets as he did so. The assassin quirked his brow and reached down, retrieving a small, black key from the body of the vampire. Could prove useful, the assassin mused, tucking the key away before again surveying the area. There was only one undead left and he had a hunch as to who the remaining vampire was. After all, he had yet to come across Hindaril. At least, none of these beasts proved worthy of the claimed power Hindaril was to possess.
Lucien backtracked until he found the last remaining passage of the cave, finding his path blocked by a rickety little door. The Speaker crept silently to the wood and inspected the area for traps. Upon finding none, the only obstacle left happened to be the hefty lock he was currently faced with. Lucien eyed the rotted door with an amused and disbelieving expression before retrieving the key from his pocket. Had he truly wished to, the assassin could have broken the wood and allowed himself entry with minimal effort. However, for the sake of what little surprise remained, Lucien opted to use his newfound key.
With a drop of salve to the rusted hinges, the assassin carefully unlocked and opened the door. He was then surprised by the sight that greeted him. Pacing about anxiously in red velvet finery, marched an Altmer male with all the same characteristics as his deceased kin. The assassin frowned, wondering why he had still remained undetected with the vampire in such close proximity...until he felt several vermin brush against his leg.
Formulating a quick plan, Lucien reached down and plucked the largest rat up by its tail. He then reached into his boot and procured a small blade. The assassin then pinned the squealing rodent to the rotted wood of the door by its lower half, keeping the rat living, shrieking, heart racing...for now.
It was enough to lure Hindaril.
The vampire's pacing stopped as he walked towards the racing heartbeat and smell of fresh blood. He stared inquisitively at the impaled rat and opened door. The small distraction was all Lucien required...
xxxx
Vicente grinned at the blue magical energies swirling in my hand. I twirled my fingers, elegantly brandishing the growing whisps. "Excellent. Your restorative magics are quite remarkable. They seem to increase in intensity with each passing day." The vampire approached me from behind, hand going to the crook of my elbow, adjusting its bend as his free fingers encircled my wrist. I allowed the touch, I allowed the closeness. Vicente enjoyed each light brush of flesh while I utilized his desires...
"To spread the healing to another, I must focus on them and not their injuries, correct?" I inquired, focusing on the glowing of my magic, calling forth another restoration spell in my dominate hand with ease.
"Correct." Vicente chuckled as I swirled the blue smoke in both hands, casting him what I hoped to be a sultry glance as I did so. The elder vampire had shown me other spells and I was steadily grasping the art of Illusion. Of course, all came at a price of false flirtation but I held no qualms in doing so. Truth be told, his touch was not so repulsive, as I enjoyed the coldness of his hands. I had no interest in the Breton vampire and only sought to use him as he had done to me. He had told me in part of the Count's role to the Dark Brotherhood. He was an ally and resource and should he fall to misery, he was of little use. I was a pawn, kept alive for the Count of Skingrad's pleasure, housed by the Brotherhood for his stability and consistency to their aid. Vicente had never meant to help me, or if he did, it was for selfish purposes. Now, I wished to help myself to his three hundred years of knowledge and skill.
My restoration powers had intensified greatly under Vicente's instruction, so much so that I was able to cast in both hands. I was beyond proficient now in healing and hoped to further my skill in Illusion and beyond. Magic could prove useful, especially the ability to turn invisible...but such magic could take years to learn. However, staying with Lucien almost guaranteed my tutelage. By the vampire or Speaker, I would be taught.
"I would so love to do more, Master Vicente." I began with a wistful sigh, dropping the healing from my fingertips. "Is there any way that we could...speed all along?"
"Ah, the routine question. You are as curious as any student I have ever taught." Vicente began as he released me from his grasp, clearly amused by my statement. "Your new eagerness is an endearing feature. However, it is the quality of learning we seek, not the quickness of progression in our magical constitution. What good would a vast extent of spells be if their potency is null?" I opened my mouth ready to respond when a cacophony of near deafening thumps and shouts resounded from outside of the training room door. Amongst the ruckus, I was able to make out one sentence: Speaker Lachance has returned.
Vicente Valtieri was forgotten without hesitation as I turned to the door.
Author's Notes: Tis' all for now!...I feel like I'm forgetting to write something here! I shalst prof later! XD R&R!