Authors Notes: Welp! This chapter is complete! It was actually so long that I had to remove over 3,000 words and carry them over to the upcoming chapter. I hope this is up to snuff! Thank you all who have reviewed and continued to support me even with the update gaps! That being said, I hope you enjoy this! XD
WARNING: This chapter is rated M.You have been warned.
Love or Blood
Chapter Seventy-one: A Letter
xxxx
The blood of Tertia stains His hands.
The blood of Tertia stains His hands.
The blood of Tertia stains His hands.
I read the neat scrawl slowly, over and over in my head as I felt myself go pale, a trickle of sweat forming and running down my nape. I racked my thoughts, going through so many memories both quick and fleeting. I did not want to understand the contents of the letter in my hands. It seemed as though my mind refused to absorb the seven damning words in an attempt to protect what little sanity I had left. My mother had killed herself, I was told. She took her own life. Whoever wrote this terrible letter thought otherwise...perhaps knew otherwise.
Swallowing hard, I tore my eyes from the parchment and back to the door. Despite knowing how foolish it was to do, I scrambled through it in my nightdress. Hastily and full of jitters, I unlocked the bolt and flung the door open, paper clutched in a grip that made my knuckles as white as the note I held. I stared down the hall, searching the darkness and quickly settled my gaze upon the figure that stood at its very end. A young man, hands in his dark robe's pockets, wearing a jovial smile that I instantly remembered. This was the courier who delivered messages to me from Lucien Lachance, back when I resided in the Maids Quarters. A time that felt like so long ago now...
"Y-you!" I whispered into the darkness, ready to advance but feeling that I should stay away, my damp stockings sticking to the wood like an adhesive. "What is this? W-who sent you?" I stammered with my heart thundering away, panic in full bloom. In response, the man - the 'courier' - only pressed a finger to his lips, signaling for my silence with his wordless, skewed smile. I deflated at the look, knowing by the cold, tightening of my chest that this man knew much. He was no mere courier, he never was. He was a Dark Brother, no doubt. This led me to question why the Dark Brotherhood sent me a letter claiming my mother's death was not as I had heard it to be. "...Please..." I swallowed hard, staring into the twinkling brown eyes that I could feel on my own more than I could actually see. "Why?...I...'His'...Who is this r-referring to?" I forced, straining to speak as the tightening of my chest had made its way to my throat. I knew the answer but I had to hear it. I knew the answer, but I did not want to believe it. I knew the answer but hoped all was an elaborate and cruel trick.
I knew the answer but I did not want to know it. Nor did I want to hear my suspicions validated. But, again, I had to.
The man down the hall moved slightly, and on instinct, I moved back. "You know who." He stared, the light from the downstairs hall skewing his features. My tongue felt thick in my mouth as the man's smile slipped altogether in a blink, his expression suddenly stern and a touch tender. All almost felt reproachful, as though I should have known better. "Did you honestly expect a positive outcome from your dalliance? Hmph. We kill and kill and kill. All we know is death...All he knows is death...You have my sympathy." And he was gone.
Clutching the letter to my chest, I continued to stare at the spot the man had just occupied. He had vanished, as though in thin air, but I felt his spell of invisibility seep over me like a caress. He lingered in the hall for a moment and watched me before leaving the inn, and I found that I could do nothing but stand and continue to stare long after he had truly gone.
Swallowing thickly, I eventually managed to turn and enter the inn room, gently closing the door behind me. I leaned against it then and listened to the rain continue to pour outside and trickle onto the floorboards. I closed my eyes, my thoughts suddenly quiet as the sounds of my surroundings deafened me. Carefully, I unclutched the note from my fingers which were numb from the grip and forced myself to look down at the parchment once more. I found it odd how the paper shook in my trembling hands, yet the blackened letters were still so clear, even as tears spilled down my cheeks.
"I-I do miss Anvil. The sun is always bright and warm there. The buildings are so pretty. I liked to watch the tall grass sway in the breeze or the water hit the docks...I could have watched either for hours. I miss the sand." I bit my lip at the memories that came forcefully to my mind. All was an echo suddenly so loud it overpowered the rain. "The sunset is beautiful. There are more colors than I can count. It is so quiet -"
"Another place." Lucien had interrupted, stopping me from continuing, ending my proposal. "Anvil is in the opposite direction of our destination, I doubt we will travel to the coast, lest our journey calls for it. Do not hold to the idea, it is unlikely...think of somewhere else. I shall endeavor to bring you there." He had fought me on traveling to Anvil, now I knew why. He knew from the very beginning. He knew perfectly well of the disturbing wrong he had done to me. What a fool I happened to be. How did I not know?
I sank to the floor, tossing the paper and sobbing into my nightdress as I crumpled and hugged my knees. Memories assaulted me with all the brutality of a literal beating. I did not want to believe it. I did not want to recall any more than I already had, but like treacherous snakes, my thoughts slithered to my minds every corner and tugged the damning truth to me; brandishing all boldly, holding me in their constricting grip, making me view all in a terrible flurry of pictures and sounds.
"Tiger lily." Lucien Lachance corrected in my memory with a chuckle. "I should have seen that one coming. Did you know lily flowers happen to be a rather prominent symbol of Dibella worship? They are stamped and carved everywhere in Her temples. I suppose here in Cyrodiil everything about the Goddess is tamed for the very delicate masses. Hard to see any detail." An image of my mother came to me then, young and beautiful, coupled with Lucien's foul words. Her smile was broad as she tucked a bright orange flower behind my little ear. "Who gave this to you? You said it was a 'she', yes? Well, she has quite the sense of humor to gift that to a Dibellan."
"It was from my mother," I said aloud to the empty room, envisioning a time before all went rotten, swearing I could truly see my mother before me through the misty veil of tears that fogged my vision. I remembered how the assassin's demeanor had instantly changed. He had soured some, the natural glint in his eye vanished. I did not know fully why then. I knew now.
"A painfully tender topic." He mused as he had settled further into his chair. I recalled his face, so calm and contemplative, and the creak of the wood beneath him as it accepted his weight. He knew. He knew. He knew. Still, he said nothing. "I believe I have already made you significantly uncomfortable today and the night has just begun. Let us not start it by reopening old wounds, hmm?"
Reopening old wounds...
"A topic for another day?" My mind chimed in mockingly. I sniffled and glared at the crumpled paper on the floor. I felt ill. Terribly ill...
"Another life."
But my thoughts were not yet done with me. Caught in a snare of rapid remembrance, my mind raced to our visit of Anvil. I thought of Lucien's actions towards Velwyn Benirus. He did not want me found and was ready to slit an innocent man's throat to keep his secret. This, I was not surprised by. However, when the image of my parents' tombs came to me, I had to clutch my stomach to keep from retching.
"Lucien, I...I just do not understand. H-how could this have happened? It doesn't make any sense."
The assassin had sighed gently, pulling me to his chest ever closer, fully enveloping me in his embrace as his hands held me tighter, near clamping down beneath my collarbones...I wondered why he held me so tight. To flaunt me before the tombs? I stood on my mother's grave while in the arms of her killer. "A cruel fate, my dear." Was all Lucien had offered as he rested his chin on my head. I touched his hand for comfort. He bent then, inhaling my hair deeply, thumbs running gently back and forth on the skin by my throat. I thought his presence aided me, made me strong...I now stared at the floor in bewilderment, wondering if the assassin - no, knowing the assassin found some measure of sick joy in my needing him.
"I dearly hoped that you would never encounter the truth of all this. I still wish it." He had confessed as he turned my head to search my face. Now I knew why the assassin had looked so very sincere when he said those words to me. Of course, he wanted the truth buried. Buried alongside my mother... "I deeply regret your pains. If I had known, this would not have been...We would not have traveled here." No, for he feared discovery and Lucien Lachance could never be discovered or compromised in any regard. However, for all his cunning, planning and expertise, Lucien had read me wrong. In regards to me...the assassin gave me too much credit. He overestimated my knowledge and insight. Lucien had feared I would have somehow discovered the truth of my mother's murder on my own. If his dark secrets were brought to light, he knew I would have run from him, and he did not want that. But I was a stupid, stupid girl. I would have never known...
Lucien Lachance, the Dark Brotherhood Speaker...He did not want the twisted game of him and me to end. He was as I had first assumed yet foolishly brushed aside when I was not inflicted with immediate violence... He was a madman. Why did I ever wish to think otherwise? Why had I looked the other way?
Because he treated you as equal. A niggling little voice sounded in my mind once more as I held my head in my hands. He treated you well. He does to this day...
I pushed those thoughts.
The Speaker did not wish for this true darkness to be found. He kept it hidden behind charming smiles and warm caresses, but there was no denying any of it now, as much as I longed to do so. For so long I had tried to ignore his murder. I had wanted to validate it somehow. I had even fallen merrily into his ploy to stay with him in an attempt to stave off his hunger for death.
"I know what you are hoping," He began in my mind once more, his eyes full of mischief. "You wish for me to confess some deep trauma. A rational reason that looped me into murder? An accident, an excuse..." I swallowed thickly. He had warned me of his truer self, in his own manner. Still, I had locked it all away inside the far corners of my conscience to keep myself alive. I preserved myself while others fell...only now was I able to truly reflect. I was to feel the hurt I caused many simply in trade of survival..."But I have none to give. There is no alternative motive or explanation for why I do what I do. I enjoy it. That is its end."
And that was his logic and my justice. The fate of two very selfish people. I wanted life, Lucien wanted to take lives away. And so, Lucien Lachance killed my mother and extended his hand to me. It was almost poetic. It was so very like him that had the loss not been so tragic, I may have laughed at the familiarity of it all.
Fortunately - or perhaps not - I did not know how nor did I know precisely when he committed the deed I still had difficulty grasping. What I did know, however, was that the assassin had taken my mother's life, let her blood stain his hands, knew of our relations and yet pursued me - her daughter - all the same. He wanted me as a lover and friend. A companion. It was disgusting. It was shocking. It was a nightmare that I could not wake from. I felt truly broken, a doll of porcelain one had brought a hammer to. I never stood a chance against him. Never. I was a stupid girl.
My mother was not a good person in the years before her murder, but she was my mother...and as a small girl, before all was ruined, she had loved me and I loved her. My feeble heart still did in spite of her wrongdoings. But my tears for her became bitter and more self-loathing as humiliation settled into my very soul.
I felt...violated. I hurt in ways that surpassed the pain of knowing my mother had gone from Nirn at the hands of the assassin. Now I knew she went by the will of someone who wished her dead. They called to the Dark Brotherhood and Lucien Lachance took it upon himself to slaughter my mother. And I, in all my naive, stupid and foolish ways, found comfort in her killer. Romantic passionate comfort...all the while, Lucien knew...he enjoyed it.
Dabbing my cheeks with my sleeve, feeling flush from shame and pale from loss, I decided to pry myself from the floor and did so with trembling limbs. I staggered to my pack of belongings and began to change, eyes glazed and movements dumb. The assassin was a man without a conscience. He killed because he liked it. Should he catch wind that I knew his secret, I could only surmise what would be done to me. I needed to plan my approach with caution. And so I hurriedly dressed and lit a candle on the bedside table. Without hesitation, I then burned the letter. Steady and slow, I scattered its ashes as I had once done to Lucien's notes to me so long ago.
After the letter was gone and its powder remnants undiscernable from the wood rot's natural grime, I tied my hair in the neatest tail I could manage before slipping on my shoes. I fought my body's tremors and rummaged through our supplies - namely, Lucien's. Eventually, I found what I had been searching for and pulled a dagger from one of the many compartments of his preferred satchel.
Controlling my fingers was a task most difficult, but I managed to pull the sheath from the blade and hid it away back into its pouch. I examined the gleaming dagger: a sharpened tip, so fine it tapered to a hair, it's edge precise and deadly. A channel ran down its length, the width of the blade turning thicker towards the center.
With extreme care, I tucked the blade away in the waist of my skirt, making sure to adjust my clothing accordingly so that all was hidden. I prayed I would not need to use such a thing and I also acknowledge my positively pathetic state and inability to self-defend. Still, I needed it, even if it was perhaps impossibly ridiculous to carry. Should the need arise, I would have something.
Sitting down on the bed, I tried to steel my nerves. Back when I had first begun to travel with Lucien, I had wanted to remain ignorant of everything he did. I had begged the assassin to keep the Brotherhood business out of my life. Nevertheless, the killing of my mother felt - to me - to be above such a promise. But perhaps that was absurdly foolish. I supposed I was not to permitted to know. Lucien Lachance could have been sworn to secrecy over the ordeal. If that was the case, I could accept the measure of deception. What I could not accept was his want to know me, his pursuit of my acceptance and drive for my affection. The man knew he had killed my mother, done me a most grievous wrong, yet he pursued...beyond that.
Knowing Lucien Lachance, this was not simply an occurrence of emotion that could not be quelled in spite of right and wrong. No, he knew full well what he was doing and how foul a thing it was. It excited him, and I was a conquest he longed to keep. My acceptance was a sweet thing to a man of murder. After all, I accepted him thus far, and only after being on the receiving end of loss by the assassin did I now see how terrible it was - how terrible he was. I could block it away no longer. I had become one of the many people hurt by the Dark Brotherhood Speaker's hand.
It was my dues, I knew that now. It was as I deserved for turning a blind eye to the wrong Lucien Lachance committed. This pain was a pitilessness justice, but it was justice nonetheless, and now I had to endure it.
Once before, weeks ago, I had contemplated the Count's actions and the actions of Lucien Lachance. I considered them and their similarities. I thought, for a weakened moment, that perhaps the two committed the same sins. I had wondered if they were cut from the same cloth, but I only expected atrocities from the assassin and not from my Count. Therefore, I tried to be more accepting. Now, I saw how terrible the comparison was. Lucien Lachance was simply an awful human being and I had searched for excuses out of my own cowardice to face this reality.
Quiet and contrite, I felt truly ruined as I awaited the Dark Brotherhood Speaker's return. Utterly tainted and pathetic. I was no better a person than him...but I did not kill. I strove not to hurt others. I simply wanted to be, but I had to learn the hard way that there was no 'simple' for me. Somewhere along the time I had spent with the Count and Lucien, I had forgotten one of my main principles: to expect what I dread. I was forced to live in fear once more. It was more practical. The existence I was currently caught in was painful and cruel. Perhaps if I had continued to live by my fundamental truths, I would not have let my guard down. I would have never grown to care for the assassin...
And so, I sat and gazed at the door. Rigid and awaiting my 'protector'. I would not tell Lucien Lachance about the letter I received. Instead, I would feign calmness to the best of my abilities. I would work out the truth, prove him 'honest' as he claimed to be. Then, and only then, would I leave him...
Somehow I would leave.
xxxx
A small amount of time ticked by and I tried my hardest to savor every moment that I was given before the dreaded encounter. I felt I needed each second for aid in collecting myself. I required the time to gather my inner strength, I naturally had very little but I wanted to not be a coward, so every moment mattered to me greatly. However, fate deemed that I was not to be kept waiting long. Soon I heard footsteps slowly approaching, so soft in sound that had I not been awaiting them, they would not have existed to me. All seemed to still as I set my stare on the door's latch as it began to move, my breath stilling in my chest.
Cloaked and shrouded in shadow, Lucien Lachance silently entered the room, water droplets gently falling lazily from his shoulders and hood. My stomach soured instantly as I took in the living darkness that was him. The only indication of a person existing in the black robes happened to be the Speaker's ever twisted smirk, scarcely illuminated by my lone candle. Swallowing thickly, I tried to acknowledge his presence with a tentative nod. I sought to ease the thundering of my heart with the truth of our union. Lucien Lachance and I had a history. We had relations and more...he was not here to cut me down as he had my mother. He was ignorant of my current knowledge. For the moment.
"Good evening, my dear." He greeted me, so very casually. I mentally boggled. He killed my mother, how could he be so calm? How did he do all that he did while the blood of my mother stained him? I was her child... "I am glad to find you have fully awakened. You see, I have been reflecting..."
His words hung and silence lapsed. I feared his thoughts, I feared all that was to come. Regardless, I swallowed hard and remained strong. I did my best to speak and force my tone's indifference, however, I was quite unable to fully conceal its waver. "Oh?"
"Hmm, yes..." The assassin paused, his gaze left me then, turning skeptical as it flicked about the room. For a moment, my ears began to ring as I wondered what Lucien was searching for. Did he somehow know that I learned the truth of my mother's demise? How did he find out? Did I leave a bit of incriminating evidence so obvious? Could he sense his missing dagger? I blanched, wringing my tunic with both hands, mindful of the blade pressed cold against my thigh... "Abigale, where is your food?"
"My...my what?"
"Your dinner?" The assassin clarified, quirking his brow as he stepped further into our room, brushing off some of the rain from his robes. "I had a meal sent up to you. Did it not yet arrive?"
I let out a breath I did not know I was holding, on the verge of tears from relief alone. The simple thought of discovery had thrust me into a near blinding panic. I did not know how long I could continue this facade, nor did I know how I was ever to work the truth out of Lucien when his mere inquiry about supper sent me into an internal frenzy. Still, somehow, I managed to speak again and shake my head, my voice so taxed I could never hope to conceal it. "No, it...it never came."
Lucien swore, slamming the door with irritation behind him as he did so. I jumped at the action, watching as he smoothed away his frustration with ease. "I shall go down and get it myself then while giving this 'innkeeper' a well-deserved complaint." I shook my head at him and mumbled something vaguely coherent about not being hungry. Unfortunately, my pallor gave Lucien pause as he drew in closer to me, dropping down so we were at eye level. "Are you unwell, my dear? You are quite pale...Much more than your norm, at any rate." The assassin remarked, tenderness quickly overshadowing his irritancy. He touched me lightly, assessing my health before lowering himself further and bringing his eyes to mine. There, my heart began to skip in my chest as my gaze met Lucien's black irises. I always found it mystifying how his pupil seemed to melt into the orb surrounding it. Utterly black eyes. Only once an impossibly bright light like the sun hit his sight directly could one view the hues and deep tendrils of brown and gray, and still, I would debate the color. His eyes were black, a reflection of one's soul. Black. "Abigale?"
"Yes?"
"Are you alright? Your gaze..." Lucien's voice trailed off, his fathomless stare still eating up my own while his expression appeared intrigued and concerned. I watched his lips press into a thin line before releasing as he examined me, almost as though struck with an epiphany. "You are afraid of me." He said, so clear and definitively. Although his expression did not change, his hand fell upon my thigh as he came ever nearer. It was not a sexual act, just a touch of familiarity. To me, the feeling made bile rise in the back of my throat as I sat there trying not to convey my internal turmoil.
Again I twisted the fabric of my shirt and felt the weight of the dagger concealed against my flesh, it gave me small comfort against the parrying wait of his stare. "Yes," I said once more, this time with a firm nod as I did my best to appear stable, while I was everything but.
"Is this fear because of my promise to you? Oh, my dear sweet child, this is what I wished to touch upon earlier before I became distracted. I do apologize for my harshness. You see, I try to be sympathetic Abigale, I truly do. However, I can openly admit that I have difficulties with your affections. I fear that a reunion with Count Hassildor, no matter how small or brief, could jeopardize all that we have made together." Lucien inched closer then, one hand gently caressing my cheek, the other sliding up my thigh to rest on my lower abdomen. "Sometimes, to ensure survival, drastic measures are required. I believe this happens to be one of those times. Our togetherness is too valuable a thing for me to lose. I will take no risks."
"Of course." I breathed before closing my eyes, needing to somehow be away from Lucien, even if for a moment. Eventually, I forced something akin to a smile. I needed to comfort the assassin to gain appropriate distance. Presently, the Dark Brotherhood Speaker was far too close for me to dare try...anything. "My thoughts have me shaken. I-I just need a moment."
"I shall give you that then. But first, would you like for me to say anything in particular? Perhaps something that would bring you comfort? I did not intend to instill you with such fear." Lucien mumbled before rising and taking a casual step away. I shook my slowly head, watching him with great care. "I can feel your eyes. They are burning with intensity...are you certain that I cannot provide you anything?" Again I shook my head mutely, which caused the assassin to sigh long and deep. "Very well. When you are ready to be truthful I shall accommodate you in any way I am able."
Lucien then fully straightened and turned away, walking towards a dilapidated dresser. I more than bristled at his words and glared daggers at his back, wracking my mind as I sought the beginning of a topic I still did not wish to acknowledge. "Do you really mean that?" I asked, watching as he removed his belt and scabbard - his primary weapon now being tucked neatly away, as was his custom.
"I do."
With my eyes still on the assassin's back, I formulated something that vaguely resembled a plan, despite being poor and incomplete. Lucien carefully stripping himself of his many weapons helped fuel me with what little courage I could garner. I knew it was now or never. "I suppose I do have a bit on my mind. May I ask you a question?" Wanting a modicum of control over the situation before it darkened, I forced lightness into my tone, even with its quiver. Lucien encouraged me with a nod as a dagger left his boot and joined his sword. His arsenal seemed endless... "When...when you left me in your fort, I looked around a-as you permitted me to." I swallowed hard and continued to watch the assassin's back, nervous about proceeding and uncertain of where I was going, exactly. My current assumption could have no correlation to our current predicament, yet I thought it worth a try. "I found a few things there but one I am most curious over. In a lockbox, you kept a golden bracelet...w-who is Belle Chance?"
I had many reasons for asking this question. Mostly, from what I had come to learn about the assassin drove the inquiry. Lucien had another vile habit and I was unsure if he was entirely aware of it. Regardless, I had noted that he occasionally took 'trophies' from his kills. A cap from a baker, a heart from a nameless victim, a bone or two...perhaps a bracelet? He kept tokens. I could not help but wonder...
"My mother." Was Lucien's pithy reply. My internal musings came to a grinding halt as I observed the assassin's unchanged posture. "Why do you ask?"
Internally balking, I quickly sought to right myself and ignore Lucien's question. The assassin had an actual mother, I did not know why I somehow found it odd. Everyone on Nirn had a mother. Still, given the circumstance, I felt it was a sign of fate and so continued tactlessly, as though I wanted to prove him a liar. "Her name is quite like yours...Belle Chance is your mother?" I supposed I always assumed Lucien Lachance crawled from a pit of sorts, even before all the current awfulness. The Count of Skingrad seemed too powerful a being to have ever been a babe. Lucien, I could imagine with some difficulty as a child, but as a dark and mischevious one.
"Was. She is very dead." The assassin near drawled as he wrung more moisture from his clothing, still fully clad in his black robes. "As for her name being so similar to mine, it is because I used 'Belle Chance' to create myself."
"What do you mean?" I asked with caution, worrying my lip soon after.
"Belle Chance? Remove the B the E and an L...toss in an A for good measure. Lachance." The Dark Brotherhood Speaker clarified, stretching some before continuing to disarm himself. "Sadly, I was never given a surname and knew not hers. Nor did I know her true name, if I am quite honest with you. I did the best with what I was given. She was exhausted before my thirteenth year and was not much for talking. Ergo, I created myself - using what she supplied as a bit of a foundation."
Swallowing hard, shaking away any pity I would have normally harbored, I forced myself to continue. I was intrigued...yet terrified. "You said she was exhausted? Did she pass on from illness?"
"Oh no." Lucien smiled over his shoulder and to me, though the look did not touch his eyes. "Harbor no pity for her or me in that regard. She is dead because I willed it to be. I purged her from Nirn, my dear, and straight into the void she went. She was a blight on my existence. It pained me then, I was but a boy, but even I knew it was a necessary action...Yet I still hold her bangle. My own memento. A small piece of her out of respect, I suppose." With that, I went quiet. A dense fog clouded my thoughts. I watched Lucien's movements, so calm and fluid as I wondered what could cause a small child to kill his mother. Fresh tears burned in my eyes but swiftly I blinked them away. I did not want to feel for Lucien. I did not want to weep out of pity for him. And yet, despite what he had done to me and many others, I could not stifle the cold grip upon my heart.
It was sad and I was a disgusting person, but I sympathized with the Dark Brotherhood Speaker. I cared for him still. It made me ill. I did not love him, I was unsure of my feelings, but I knew that I cared...I still cared and it hurt.
"Did you...have a father?" I asked, eyes closed and readily accepting my fate. I knew not what to do. Decidedly, I would let all unravel now. I was done, as was this game.
"Yes, but I killed him too," Lucien answered with a hum. I knew better than to question his truth or motive. The assassin killed his own family. His own flesh and blood. I found it odd. Lucien so praised his Dark Family, and could not help but wonder if he would ever see fit to harm any 'relatives' again. Especially should he somehow gain heart's desire for a sizable house and children...would he hurt them too?
"Did you take anything from him as a memento?" I questioned, still not daring to bring my gaze back to the man I asked such terrible things, all leaning towards another terrible inquiry.
The assassin scoffed, still rummaging through his belongings, I could hear. "No."
"But you took one from your mother." I breathed, bracing myself. There was no turning back, no more hesitation. I was as ready for the truth as I would ever be, yet I dreaded every second. All led me to this. It was time. I had a right to know, to hear it from Lucien Lachance himself.
"Yes...?" I could hear the curiosity in his tone, nearly tangible in pitch. The assassin knew I was leading towards something now. Yet as clever as he was, he hadn't a clue as to what I was getting at. I believed that was for the best. It seemed for once, the element of surprise was to be mine. I could only hope that it would be a good thing.
I took a deep breath and held it inside my chest. I opened my eyes and for a moment I only stared at the assassin's back, watching this man I knew and had come to care for go about his business with only the slightest bit of skepticism. It hurt so. The pain, the loss, the humiliation. He had convinced me to care for him. All was done for his own personal satisfaction. Perhaps I was no more than a sick fantasy. It mattered not, not anymore. "...Did you take anything from mine?"
The air of the room changed drastically in an instant. I watched Lucien's hand still and twitch, but for only a moment before he collected himself, concealing the truth and his sudden curious unease to the best of his abilities. Had he not been under my scrutiny, his 'slip' would have been easily missed, but I caught it, no matter how brief. He continued his work, peeling a wet leather gauntlet from his hand as he cast me a falsely peculiar glance. "Pardon?" He said so smoothly, his voice dark silk, his movements seemingly unperturbed, albeit curious. I knew better. I could see the truth.
"Did you take a token from my mother?" I forced again, my voice unsteady but firm. I awaited him, wondering how he would broach this topic with me. Claim me mad? False? Or admit the truth...?
The assassin turned to me, assessing my face, my features, seeing the absolute hopelessness that tainted me. However, I was only offered a dark quirking of his brow as he leaned against the dresser he had been standing by. "I am afraid I don't follow."
The pity I felt fled, replaced by a twitchy, unthinking anger and desperation that forced me from the chair. My hands clenched into fists, my features still pleading, eyes already tearing once more. "Please don't do this to me, Lucien. Please."
"What exactly am I doing to you, Abigale?" The Dark Brotherhood Speaker questioned, so calm and serene. He crossed his arms, watching me curiously as I wiped away at my cheeks and tried to stop my weeping. "I think...I think you need to rest, my dear. You are overwrought. Come, let us -"
"No." I forced, asserting myself with a step forward. "I-I want your honesty. Your true honesty. Tell me. Tell me, please. Did you take anything from my mother, Lucien? Did you?" The assassin only stared, conveying no emotion as I cautiously approached. I swallowed hard, no plans or thoughts besides my dire need to know as I placed my hand over his own, his face obscure as I again blinked away my tears. His hand was cold, I brought my attention to it, taking it in both of my own, rubbing it gently between my palms as I sniffled, trying to bring warmth back to him. Warming the hands that took the life of my mother...I did not understand what compelled me to do so, but I did. All was a hopeless, needing gesture. "Please...Lucien...Did you?"
The silence stretched between us. My cheeks began to dry as I listened to the assassin breathe. I took in his scent, the coarseness of his knuckles, the familiar and alluring air about him. I had taken such comfort in this man, comfort that surpassed my relations with the Count. Lucien had become my family. He was all I had. Now, awaiting the truth to spill from his lips, I half hoped he would lie to me. Use his sweet persuasion to ease my mind and lull me into the warmth of our bedcovers, where he could simply hold me. Fill my thoughts with his will - that velvet voice and promises sweeter than honey, hands hot over my belly...
I wanted that. I wanted the rest to go away.
Lucien's hand soon warmed within my own, his voice eventually pulling me from my haze of confusion, imagination, and need. "...I did not." His answer was deep, voice low and resolute. I bowed my head. He did not take anything from my mother...anything but her life. I knew this now. This was his confession to me. He killed my mother, yet I held his hand and slipped into his dark embrace as his arms eventually encircled me. He brought his hand to my hair, pressing me closer to him. I felt empty, broken and unsure. Yet I leaned into Lucien Lachance all the same. He was warm and his arms kept my body upon Nirn while my mind slipped off into a dismal chasm somewhere. I questioned existence, right and wrong, but could not hold any thoughts. I felt I was fading. "But I kept your father's key."
And with that, my mind, body, and soul all came crashing back together at once as my breath stilled in my chest. With extreme slowness, I turned my head upward to look at the assassin, to watch his pained expression, as sympathetic as he could be while he stroked my hair. "You...you kept what?"
Lucien's hand stilled upon the back of my head. He sighed deeply, still holding me tight. "I see no reason keeping this from you any further. Your father told me that I was to take his key from him...and so I did." I could only stare, blinking in confusion before giving a small shake of my head as I searched the assassin. I went to move away, muttering quietly under my breath, nonsense that even I could not decipher. Lucien, however, would not let me leave him, and so he held me fast in his embrace. "Please, calm. Now listen closely. I did not know you then, my dear. Nor did you know me. This happened many years ago. I do regret your pains but we cannot change what has been done. But I am here to help you, beloved. I know it hurts now, but do not worry. You are exceptional. Together we will -"
"Did you hurt my father?" I stammered, finding myself mindlessly pulling away from the assassin, growing frantic. Anger and confusion bubbled strongly within me. My heart picked up to a dangerously fast pace. Again I felt ill. I had still not recovered from the initial truth, now finding how much deeper the deception burrowed affronted me. "D-did you kill him too? Lucien what did you do?!" Why did the assassin meet my father? What was done to him?
Lucien hushed me, gripping my arms, attempting to soothe. He was so calm, so casual. He had expected this conversation. He knew one day he would have to 'explain' all that he had done. It made me weak, knowing how foolishly quick I attached myself to the deadly Dark Brotherhood Speaker out of hurt. Why had I never questioned his behavior towards myself? Why had I overlooked...was there anything for me to overlook? Was Lucien simply that good with deceit that I never would have known what he had done? How could he look at me, speak to me, sleep with me, all the while knowing it to be a morbid atrocity? And how could I have been so blinded by one person, one person who had singlehandedly ended both of my parents. "Abigale, I only did as I was asked."
I was unsure how I managed, I was also unsure what possessed my arm to swing once freed, but it did. I struck the assassin. Hard. So much so that my hand stung and I stumbled back after the initial contact, sputtering hatefully, hardly conscious of the grave error I had just made. "Monster! What about my sister? My Brother? What of them?! How do I not know that you didn't send my entire family to your damnable void?!" I seethed while weeping, watching Lucien as he very gingerly massaged his cheek. "You are a disgusting. Vile! I hate you! I hate you, Lucien Lachance!"
The assassin's stare was hard and cold. He pursed his lips and straightened, looking down at me with a level measure of contempt. "I understand you are upset...nonetheless, if you wish to raise your hand to me once more, if you wish to strike a man, be ready to receive repercussion befitting of a man." His gaze was a challenge, his body relaxed but fingers flexing occasionally. He meant his words, I did not doubt him, and he was itching to act, but I did not care, either. "With that being said, I will not warn you again. Now, please, may we speak?"
"Speak?" I spat. "You murdered my family! I want nothing to do with you!" I eyed the door, his body partially blocking my exit. I wiped away my tears, straightening, trying not to falter under his stare and my situation. My stomach twisted, pained and knotted. I wanted to scream but feared it more than striking the assassin - this though, I knew not why. I felt delirious, almost as though I was inebriated and caught in a nightmare I could not wake from. All pity I had harbored for Lucien Lachance withered away into nothingness. I could not fathom the barbarities he committed. I knew what he was capable of and that was all that mattered. My skin grew hot and my belly more uneased. I could not stand it any longer. "Move. I am done with you! I am leaving."
Lucien folded his arms over his chest, his head bowing further toward me, making his features more obscure beneath his hood in the dark room. The assassin's voice had further dipped, near dripping with frustration. "No, you are not."
"No? No... Watch me then." I hissed hatefully, brushing by the murderer, conscious of how senseless it was to do such a thing. I quickly opened the door, startled once the assassin placed a hand upon my shoulder, pulled me away from the exit before slamming it shut. Lucien Lachance fixed me with a glare, being utterly quiet. He then placed his hand on the wood with purposeful firmness to keep me from opening it once more. My hands balled into white-knuckled fists. "You cannot keep me here! Move!"
"Lower your voice." He dared snap, his expression twitching as he inwardly fought over my defiance and a 'proper' reaction. The assassin did not know how to handle me, it was becoming apparent. I could feel the violence he longed to exude. He wished to silence me as he would a 'Family Member' but I was not his to order. Not anymore. "This situation will not benefit from your hysterics."
"Situation," I repeated in a breath of disbelief, my mind failing me. "You murdered my family, Lucien. Y-you..."
"I did not know it was your family then, Abigale. I did not know that you even existed." The assassin tried clarifying, only serving to leave me further outraged. "You were presumed dead, even if I had heard of you."
"Does this justify their murders somehow to you?" I stammered, feeling passionately hateful towards the man before me. Everything he had said and did resounded inside of me. I thought of the time we spent in his Sanctuary and the delusion of Family. I supposed for one as depraved as Lucien, it was easy to kill those who were of your own flesh and blood when you believed all was for a higher cause. I was also certain that it became especially satisfying when he was around others who did the same and sang his praises over depravity. That must have made it so very pleasurable and easy for him to cut down strangers. It was mortifying and I still could not come to grips with myself. How did I ever care about this person? "You are a madman! An evil cult worshipping-D-daedra...A-a psychopath who worships nothing but your own sick satisfaction! That is all you or any of the Brotherhood happens to be!"
"Stop." The assassin said slowly, threateningly. I watched the corner of his mouth twitch and eyes narrow, but it did not deter me in the slightest. If anything, his irritancy empowered me. I found my way beneath Lucien Lachance's skin and I now had every intention of tearing my way back out. He could not handle insults to his family but he could cut down mine? He was very mad.
"Why? Because you know it all to be true and do not wish to hear it?!" I goaded, my hand slipping to the concealed dagger for comfort. This, the assassin did not notice, his stare was too fixed upon my own. "You hide underground because no one will accept you or what you do. You call your atrocities 'divine' and keep your rules cryptic so that no one may ever question your ways. Your cult is nothing but a band of mercenaries without morals, all with a lust for blood and gold. They fear your blade, not your 'God'. There is no glory or honor in what you do! It is wrong and vile, just as you are! You hide your broken mind behind shadows and the guise of some 'Night Mother' so that you may get your way, like spoiled children. Well, enjoy it and all the terrible things she allows you to do. Kill true mothers and fathers, children, wives, husbands, brothers...kill them all for a fantasy that claims your affection and cling to your falsehoods. Do as you are told and put as you desire above all! Nothing else matters besides you and your 'Family's' disgusting wants!" I steadied my breath, heart pounding and palms slick with sweat as I glared at the man who looked ready to tear into me. It was a look I knew well, after all. "You will forever be alone..."
"Abigale, that is enough."
Straightening to meet the assassin's cold gaze, I shook my head, our expressions nearly identical. "No, it is the truth. You would kill me gladly if you thought another companion was floating about in some nonsensical void somewhere. You would kill everything you value and everything those who care about you value without hesitation to sate your bloodlust. It took me so long to see it and I am so very ashamed of myself...but I am ending this. I want nothing to do with you or the Brotherhood. Goodbye."
Lucien chuckled then, low and deep without any true mirth to the sound. His hand slipped from the door and fell to my shoulder, the grip firm, causing my skin to prickle and hair to stand on end. "And just where will you go, exactly? Please, humor me with your plans."
"Away from you, Lucien. So that you may be alone. Truly alone as you have made me. But unlike me, you still have a mother...even if she only exists in your mind." I glared, no longer sure of where I was going with my insults or what I hoped to gain. I only knew I wanted him to feel as alone as I did now. "Living in such whimsy must be freeing. So please, be free to honor your fake mother and kill one of flesh. Murder fathers and send their soul to another fabrication. Another fairytale for a lonely child to cling to." The assassin's false humor slipped from him, his eyes narrowed into slits, nostrils flared and lips pulled into a deep frown. I plucked Lucien's hand from my shoulder as though it were no more than a soiled article of cloth. By his expression, I knew the assassin was tipping over the edge of pure rage. Regardless, I no longer would hold back. Lucien had hurt me and I wanted to hurt him. I was not strong or cunning, so I could only mar him with my words and truth. His faith was a lie that gave him an excuse to murder, my family being one of the countless casualties. He and it sickened me to the point of madness. "You are sad. A sad lonely boy. I see now why you wanted a companion so...Goodbye, Speaker. Enjoy your delusions and murder...then fester in your bloody solitude-!"
Before I could so much as blink, my back was driven into the wood of the door with a firm hand around my throat holding me there. Lucien's still gauntleted fingers twisted menacingly around my neck, while his bare hand wrenched violently into my hair. The grip was painful but Lucien did not totally cut off my supply of air. The assassin only pressed menacingly against my throat, making each breath a struggle as he forced my head back so that he could stare me down proper.
"Be silent you miserable girl before I wring out your last breaths!" Lucien threatened venomously through bared teeth. His words were no higher than a whisper, but they rang out to me loud, cold and dangerous. Terror ran rampant through my body as I instinctively grabbed his wrist and tried to twist free, my efforts met with another strong push against the door. "I have tried to be fair to you. I have tried to sympathize with your pathetic existence. You dare insult me and my beliefs? My honor? My Matron? This is your poor tactic to avenge your family? Your whore of a mother? Oh, how counterproductive. How ironic." The assassin sneered, applying more pressure to the hold he had upon me. Blood rushed my ears and distorted my hearing as I tried to gulp down a breath. I could feel bruises from his fingertips bloom along the column of my throat. Fear and panic had me ensnared and dumb. "It is most amusing how Tertia's mewling little coquette of a child disputes my glory. Your harlot mother would have gladly laid down her life to straddle my cock and sip an ale. Remember that, as you seek to defend her and hurt me; your mother ached for my touch. I merely submitted to her desires, only not as she expected. Ah, how she longed... But the apple does not fall far from the tree, now, does it?" The assassin yanked my hair back further, his mouth inches from my own, his breath ghosting over my lips as a taunt of air to my aching chest. "Do not worry, beloved, I chose not to have her, despite her wanton pleas."
"L-let me go..." I managed, my words muffled in my own ears as I foolishly continued to grip the arm that held me pinned. My mind was everywhere I did not want it to be. His words stung and flushed me with disgust and shame.
"Oh...no. No, my dear, not this time." The assassin near cooed, his hold on my hair lessening for a moment before renewing with enough vigor to make me cry out. "You will head my words, for I will not repeat them. Should you ever dishonor my true Mother again, I will know; whether it be a muttered curse or hateful thought, I will find out. And I will not show you any leniency when I do - I will give you a worthy punishment and cut you down before you may finish your offenses. I will give you a thorough education on true misery, you sullen, ignorant, child. You think you know of suffering? Of pain? You have only a vastly shallow grasp. I will remedy that." The Dark Brotherhood Speaker finished darkly, fixing me with a look that pierced into my very soul. I tore my eyes away from him, staring off into the lone candle as I tried not to show my mortification and struggle, even as another bout of fresh tears slipped down my cheeks and neck to coat Lucien's gauntlet.
I hated him.
The assassin then closed the gap between us, slowly and deliberately, before he placed his lips upon my own, the touch disturbingly tender. I jerked anew in his grip, the kiss bringing a bout of renewed rage to me, along with a sudden realization. A realization of my own stupidity once more, as his body forced the dagger I concealed earlier to bite into my thigh and remind me of its presence...
The Dark Brotherhood Speaker jarred me from my sudden epiphany as he spoke again, his mouth upon my cheek, the grip on my throat slacking some. "Do you need me to define this promise any further? Perhaps I should give you a taste of what could be? A mark, a permanent reminder, somewhere on your body where only you and I shall see as to not bring you too great of shame?"
Lucien's hand then left my hair, and I was left disgusted and mortified as it landed on the crest of my hip, slipping back and forth teasingly along the slope towards my sex. He pressed his gloved thumb along my jaw painfully, forcing me to angle my face to his as he awaited my answer. "No." I let my hands fall from his arm and form into fists at my sides once more. It was an act of false defiance. Inside, I was sick and cowering, ashamed and sobbing. Outside of my mind, I glared, trembling lip pinched between my teeth as I sought strength.
"Good. Then allow me once more to clarify." He began again, slight pressure to my throat returning as I held his gaze. Carefully, I slipped my hand into my skirt and closed my fingers around the hilt of the dagger. "Your mother was undeserving of the life she was given, or so I was told, and her actions spoke volumes... Now, your father was decidedly done with her foolishness. I care not for rationalizing murder, I simply enjoy doing. But if you so wish to dissect his reasons, take a long look in the mirror. And be thankful, my dear, be so very thankful that the rest of your lot never met me..." Lucien's free hand came up to stroke my cheek. He pressed the pads of his fingers into my flesh, smearing the moisture my tears had left behind absentmindedly, his eyes still on mine. "You being so reduced irks me, beloved, but it is due, as you dishonored me and mine...And I see the hate fester inside of you now. The tangible confusion. This truth has caused a disturbance in your very soul. Embrace it, my dear. Know that I too have felt the confusion you are now experiencing. It takes time to recover, but you will prevail. The void inside you may be filled, should you acknowledge the sacred position of my Lady Mother and the play of fate...I shall absolve you, this time, for you are empty...so beautifully devoid of anything but vengeance and wrath. It is as I once was, but you need not linger in this state. For I too repaired, found solace and completion in you, my dear. That emptiness has now been filled by you... Accept all as it has come to pass. And accept me once more. We shall move on together."
Move on.
Shamefully, I considered it. Moving on, forgetting all, being a coward and hiding as I tended to do. I could sneak away from the world and bury myself into the assassin. I could be his once more and live in his shadow... But I could not be such a weakling this time. Lucien Lachance had killed my mother and my father. He boasted and disgraced my already shamed family. His words were obscene, his actions more so. If I was to be his, I would never forgive myself. I did not want to be prey to my own self-loathing or to a man anymore. I was tired of my weakness. Tired of my curse.
I would act, this time, whether or not it meant my end. I would not yield. I would try so hard to not yield.
"N..no."
"No?"
My fingers fumbled for only an instant, but I remained strong. Pulling the dagger from my clothing, nicking myself on my abdomen in the process, I managed to free the blade and hold it to the assassin's neck. With a firmness that rivaled Lucien's own I held it beneath his chin, watching a glimmer of surprise spark in his black gaze. He did not flinch, but even the small show of shock that graced his features gave me courage...and yet instilled me with tantamount fear.
Lucien's expression soured, his hand on my throat increasing with strength, as though he were testing my resolve. "You wish to kill me?" He questioned, inclining his head, inching closer. On instinct, I quickly pressed the blade hard against Lucien's throat, listening to the sound it made as it touched his scruff, watching crimson trickle down its channel. The assassin's mouth twitched as he held back a sound of discomfort, only offering me a quirk of his brow, eyes narrowed and searching.
My heart hammered in my chest and it was a conscious effort to keep the dagger from trembling in my fingers. "No," I repeated, my words a nervous mumble as I brought my stare back to Lucien's own. The assassin was furious but I still remained true, fighting my inner coward that longed to toss the dagger to the floor and beg forgiveness. I reminded myself how weary I was of being in the same situations.
"After all that I have done for you? After all the sacrifices I have made in your name...You will end it all for the dead and undeserving?" The Speaker growled lowly, eyeing me as though I was the most offensive thing to ever have graced Nirn. "No, you are making a mistake. One that you will regret deeply, my dear -" The assassin stopped as I moved the blade, turning it upward, sinking its fine tip beneath his jaw, eliciting a strangled grunt from Lucien. Although shallow, blood wept from the small puncture and dripped over my pale fingers. I felt faint as I watched the assassin's lifeblood trickle to my hand and slip into my palm. I had cared for Lucien Lachance, after all, and although I believed myself to hate him, I did not want to cause him physical pain...I wished he felt the same towards me.
I did not understand. I never would.
"Please, let go of me," I mumbled anew, expression pleading, telling well my reluctance to bring him harm despite my present actions. Again his expression twisted, a flash of teeth as his lips pulled into a snarl. For what felt like a long time, he only stared, no doubt deciding what to do. Eventually, his hand slipped from my throat, but he himself did not move. Reaching down with fumbling fingers behind me, I groped for the door latch, my gaze remaining locked on the assassin's own and his dagger still biting into his flesh. Eventually, I fumbled the locks open and slipped closer to the Speaker to allow the door to crack. He stood mutely, hands by his sides and fingers flexing, eyes ablaze with cool fire... I swallowed thickly, carefully withdrawing the blade, and stepped back into the hallway, dagger still brandished in my trembling hands. He watched me, as I watched him, and I could feel the cold emanate from the man. My mouth went dry and I took another step away, partly in awe as all unraveled, but mostly afraid. So very afraid of everything... "Goodbye, Lucien."
I slipped further down the hall, watching the assassin who stood at the opening of his room, still a looming shadow in the doorway, glaring after me. Even when he had vanished from my sight and I rounded the corridor, I could feel that indescribable cold that surpassed his stare, like an extending hand to keep me under his wing. As I slipped into the lobby and took note of the terribly convenient lack of patrons and proprietor, I panicked and wondered what to so. But I soon heard the door upstairs where Lucien resided slam closed. My ears perked and I listened closely, but no footsteps followed me.
Without another thought, I left the inn and I broke into a run.
Author's Notes: Dun dun dun! Watcha think? XD I am putting a warning here for the next update. It will be...dark. That's all I can say. I will always put up the warnings and make it so readers can skip the M rated stuff without mission out on too much plot. Just about ALL warnings will apply for the next update...so, yeah, warning...XD