Author's Notes: Be gentle, it's been a while.

Love or Blood

Chapter Seventy-six: Castle Skingrad II

xxxx

There was too much emotion. It was in the air and on my skin. I needed renewal, so I washed in a childish effort to obtain it.

The Count had left me alone and I was unsure how to process this action. I knew he was to be offended - he had to be - but I knew not the scale of his sorrow or anger. He exuded none, of course, but that was just one of the many things I was left to fret over. The Count and his changeable moods...but Gods, was I so very happy to return to him. However, I was well aware of how contradictory and rash my decisions were. Nevertheless, I made them from my tainted heart and decided to follow. For once, I would try not to think on my choices. And although I knew - despite my best efforts to not know or feel this truth - that the road ahead was full of fear and uncertainty. Yet the man I loved was again within my grasp and down the hall...and all mine. All mine in the ways I needed him to be now, and in all the ways that he could be. It mattered.

The Green Room was silent as I washed. Everything was pristine and grand. I noted a great many things as I took in the space once more. Many upgrades had been made to the furnishings. The room itself somehow felt rejuvenated - and for reasons other than higher-quality accents. It was lovely. The feelings the chamber evoked, however, were troubling. I shook them away quickly and stamped out nearly all reason and doubt. I did not return to consume myself with uncertainty. I did not return to hurt myself further. I came to fix and heal and love...I came back to try to repair my heart and be with the man I loved. Right or wrong did not matter...But when I regarded the new gleaming bell at the bed's far corner, my stomach turned and I could not help it. Instead, I took in the positives around me. The fixture to the Maid's Quarters had been replaced, after all, and the stone repaired - this was a good thing. And pressed, pretty clothes were laid upon the bed, flowers new, fresh and fragrant. All still mine, neat and tended almost as if I had never gone. I ventured to label all 'better' in my mind. Newer. A fresh start and perspective.

Moreover, the Count had anticipated my arrival all along. He never gave up on me. All was prepared for my return. This morning I woke up with a killer, yet the Count kept a space just for me. He knew I was to come back to him. I was expected as agreed. He waited, I arrived. He promised - swore, I would return, and he was right.

'If you think it wise to run, even for a moment, know I will give chase.'

It hurt. It was but another thing to forget. My mind hollered for a moment over my indecisiveness before I managed to wash it away. I knew I was frightened and could not fully suppress all. But for the last few weeks, I was bedding a murderer, now I was reuniting with another very dangerous man who knew well of my indiscretions. A level of fear was warranted.

Blessedly, the assassin had all but vanished from my mind, due to the stress of my situation. But, whenever he entered my conscious, I scrubbed myself to the point of pain, as if to wash him away. If possible, I would pretend he never existed. That I never cared. That we were never close. Now that I was housed by the Count once more, what was that evil man's worth? He was bad and I meant to squash Lucien from my soul, along with any lingering affection towards him. I did not want to care or feel the strange hurt and bliss that came with his absence.

Again I scrubbed away any negative or rational thoughts and let my mind wander to the Vampire down the hall.

The Count was so wonderfully dreamlike... yet terrifying - but this was the way of him. He was quick to command and I reveled in his word. Finally, having his hand to guide me once more was like a gift and lifting. However, I knew, deep in the recesses of my compressed thoughts, that it was foolish to again trust the Count so freely...I did not. But, I was determined to, so I would. I was fearful of being in his care but not nearly enough as I should have been - as any normal person would have been. Perhaps my thought suppression was so great, or perhaps my thoughts were not so complex that suppression was even required. This concept slipped into my heart and gave me pause. Thankfully, I was not lost in my musings for long as soon a knock upon the door jolted me from the tepid waters.

"Abigale Lynn?" The voice, coarse as gravel, called from the hall. As if summoned by an otherworldly force, I rose from the water in a near blinding pace, grabbing one of my many luxurious robes and rushed to the entrance of the chamber, treading water in my wake.

The wood of the door was an obstacle I quickly removed. I met her gaze, large reptilian orbs glazed from emotion, and felt tears burn my own eyes. Then, in an action that felt so very natural, I went to her with open, needy arms. Hal-Liurz met me fast and cradled me in her embrace. The Stewardess, once nothing more than an authoritarian figure, was suddenly one of the only purely gentle hands I knew. She soothed me like one would a child, speaking to me with her rasped voice that until that very moment I had not realized I had so missed. Then, for reasons I could not, would not evaluate, I wept once more. I sobbed in the hall and let the Stewardess hush me and usher me back into the room before I was seen or heard.

I was so very overwhelmed but again shook the thoughts with a literal turn of my head as Hal-Liurz held me at arm's length. "Are you alright? What happened?"

"So, so much." I babbled, continuing on foolishly. "But y-yes! I am alright - more or less. Alive at any...I mean for...I am so very glad to see you!"

XXXX

The ride had been particularly grueling and emotional, but after long last, Vicente Valtieri made it to the city of Skingrad. Being apprehensive from all that transpired, and feeling an unstable Lucien Lachance nearby, Vicente was careful in with his mount's trot and remained vigilant. The weather made his scouting of the city a touch more difficult, and he bitterly humored how aptly the drizzle depicted his and his Speaker's mood. Although high noon and remarkably humid, the sun was shrouded with thick grey clouds. The steady mist soaked his hood - something he did not need so vitally for once - and obscured his vision some, but having decades of experience wandering the streets of many cities, and being a creature made to hunt, the vampire easily found his target.

Once Vicente reached his destination, looking upon the Three Sister's Inn with a quirked brow, he dismounted fast. Lucien Lachance tended to favor the seedier parts of town when in his cups. And presently, the Speaker was drowning himself. Vicente's magical tethers to his Brother were so strong they nearly made him cough on the bitterness of...whatever Lucien Lachance was heavily drinking.

Pushing back his hood and shaking off the rain, the Eliminator entered the building with a frown, finding his Brother fast. Had the Speaker been younger, he would have been disciplined for eclipsing his faculties. And had the matter not been so personal, Vicente might have felt differently when his eyes fell to his mournful Sibling. But what the Vampire felt was troubling. The absence of Abigale Lynn left him perplexed - and more than that. He was angry and afraid - two emotions that took a great deal of coaxing to ignite within the Eliminator.

Many questions formed and rung loudly in his mind. Had Lucien returned the girl without his notice, and if so, when? Vicente had not felt the parting of his Speaker and Abigale Lynn. Of course, he was well aware of the trauma and turmoil that had unfolded. However, Vicente was only given small and sudden glimpses into his former underling's psyche. His connection with Lucien, though strong, was still difficult to understand after all the years. Much like the Speaker himself.

Presently, Lucien Lachance did not seem so enigmatic. Hunched over the bar in plain clothes, his robe draped over the stool opposite him, the Black Hand Speaker accepted another drink from the barkeep with a grunt before fingering a small purse on the counter - publically flaunting the many golden Septims inside. Vicente straightened and marched forward, unsure what to be more angered over as Lachance took another deep swig. "Gods Brother, you shame yourself!" Vicente seethed in hushed tones as he approached, quite mindful of his voice's volume and more irritated over Lucien's lack of shock. Vicente made himself welcome by pulling the stool out next to his Speaker, sitting with his unwavering glare still fixed on Lachance's back. "You are fortunate it is only I who ever seems to find you like this."

"Well indeed...lucky me then." Lucien groused, not so much as casting a glance towards the Vampire next to him.

Shaking away the nonsense, Vicente leaned in closer, his words dropping further in tone but no less desperate. "Where is Abigale Lynn?"

This finally prompted something resembling emotion in the Speaker. His nostrils flared before he pointed to the door, tankard still in hand. "Back with her Master."

It was the truth. Relief, though fleeting, graced the Vampire. She was back in Castle Skingrad - not in a ditch somewhere. Though, shortly after the revelation, this brought about a new onslaught of woes. Janus Hassildor was back in control of the girl...It was as he had once promised and hoped. Vicente had wanted to only bring his friend comfort, provide aid and strengthen the bond between the Brotherhood and Skingrad. Now, with the fresh memory of Abigale Lynn's skirts swishing down his Sanctuary halls, disappointment settled within him. She would not return there again. He was selfishly frustrated for reasons he should not be.

Vicente half huffed, half sighed, and adjusted the tie in his ash-brown hair, attempting to appear normal and regain composure. A difficult task. "Am I the only man who does not run into the bottom of a bottle when problems arise?"

"Where is Nerah? She is always in tow." Lachance ignored, finally peeling himself from the counter some to glance about, his dark eyes glazed from drunkenness. "For once she could prove useful..."

"I won't ask why." Vicente quipped, waving away the barkeep fast before she could make her approach, again whispering. "Now what in Sithis' name happened? I know something went horribly awry. Is Abigale Lynn alright? What was done?" The Speaker's fingers drummed on his tankard before he took another long drink. The Eliminator felt a small pang of insecurity then, emanating from the stoic assassin before him. It did not take a mastermind to piece together the rejection. Now knowing the Speaker before him managed to force himself to acquiesce with Abigale Lynn's wishes, Vicente was comforted some. Having been feeling oddly on the outside himself while next to Lucien - when in regards to Abigale Lynn - Valtieri tried to sympathize the smallest bit. After all, Lucien was his Family, dark and twisted as a Family - they still were just that.

And Abigale Lynn was safe. All else would mend in time.

Reaching out, Vicente laid a hand upon his Speaker's shoulder, thinking of the few times he had comforted Lucien over the years. The boy was stubborn but normally accepting. A heartbreak of this magnitude was new territory, however, and Lucien's heart was a strange thing indeed. Regardless, Vicente felt quite odd once Lachance took hold of his wrist and removed it so casually. He then turned to face the Vampire fully in his seat, attention now set and unwavering. "You are happy that I lost. I know you are."

Vicente blinked, taken aback by the odd claim. Lucien was drunk and hurt. Despite being no innocent, Lachance was still Vicente's Speaker and more, and so the Vampire decided to respond with respect and tentative familiarity. "I understand this hurts, Lucien. We all agreed that this was the way it was to be. You may have had some of the Hand swayed but nothing was concrete without her's and the Count's approval. You know this. All is for the best. She had to return -"

"She'll be back."

Something akin to a smile touched Lucien's lips, though bitter and knowing. Upon hearing this statement spoken with such conviction, and while watching his Speaker's expression slowly turn unreadable, the need to comfort Lachance vanished entirely. "You say that like you believe it. She will not be back, Lucien. Unless she told you otherwise...?"

"No."

Irked by the assassin's focus and evasiveness, Vicente could only glare in irritation. "Then you are simply deluding yourself. Holding onto this idea or fantasy - yes, for that is all it is, a fantasy - is an unhealthy thing. She has no further attachments to you. It is done."

Sitting far too composed for one so deep in their cups, Lucien responded fast and deeply, now focused on nothing but Vicente and their conversation, his finger wagging above his drink. "Wrong again."

This gave the Vampire pause, his eyes narrowing. "Then pray tell what you are being so deliberately cryptic about?"

At this, Lucien turned back to the bar and nursed his drink. "Are you certain you wish to know? You will be quite jealous." Further infuriated with the nonsense, Vicente opened his mouth to speak, only to be cut off by Lachance once more. "You know I had her...frequently. I know you felt some of that with your Dark Gift and bonds to me. Did you enjoy her to? There was so much pleasure I would be amazed if it remained solely with me."

"I am very much aware of your bedroom activities with her, Lucien. You need not boast so." The Eliminator tartly replied.

"Oh but I do." Was Lucien's casual response, fully facing the Vampire once more. "For there lies my connection. My bond to Abigale is inside her..." The Vampire could only stare. Ignorance was never a joy Vicente could revel in. Being so certain yet uncertain as to what he heard, a tense moment followed. The Eliminator processed the new development. "Don't you see, Brother? Hassildor will certainly boot her once he finds that she carries my bastard in her belly."

The sentence, the proclamation remained in the air for a moment. While the Vampire's expression only read pensive, he was hot with fury. Blinded by it. Vicente's pale hand formed into a fist, hard as stone - blessed with the Dark Gift as he was. There was no warning for the living assassin opposite him. The Vampire's arm pulled back in one graceful motion, like that of a skilled archer drawing a bowstring, before snapping forth with inhuman speed, strength and precision.

Knuckles connected fast with warm flesh. Vicente felt the irrefutable crunch of broken bone as his fist collided with Lucien's nose. The blow pushed the Dark Brotherhood Speaker from his seat, barstool toppling down with him to the worn, wooden floor of the inn. "You ruined it! You ruined all with that miserable pecker of yours! You brought shame on your Family!"

Still seething and seeing red, Vicente stood to hover over his Brother, perhaps to do further harm. However, upon seeing his sibling, his Speaker - nose smashed, blood pouring from both nostrils and bruising already forming at the corners of his eyes - the heat of anger fled, shame and fear in its wake.

"Hey! Hey! HEY!" The Orc proprietor shouted, reaching beneath the counter for her ax. "Take it outside or I'm calling the guard!"

"Not necessary." Came a grunt from the floor. Lucien pushed himself into a sitting position on the ground. Vicente looked back again to his brother, suddenly aware of all the eyes on the two of them and the utter stillness of the room. The Vampire damned his irrational outburst and blamed his anger's heat. "I believe we were both just about to leave. You, sir, should apologize to this woman for causing a scene in her establishment."

Without another thought, Vicente obliged, forcing himself to ignore his Brother's hiss of pain as he rose. "My most sincerest regrets. I will gladly pay for anything that may have been broken."

"You can only imagine..." The Speaker breathed, standing with little difficulty to gather his strewn belongings and cloak from the floor. Vicente embarrassingly thought on Lachance's ability to take a hit from a Vampire and keep moving. Lucien was resilient. And, hopefully, in a mind to forgive Vicente for damaging him. Harming or 'disciplining' Lucien - rightfully warranted or not - was no longer Vicente's place. He could be in much trouble. Moreover, he should not have acted in such a way and knew it. Lashing out in anger was so beneath him. It was a strange thing to do.

"Just get your spat out of my inn!" The Orc interrupted Vicente's thoughts, making him move to pick up the stool and aid his Speaker - a show of goodwill. "Eerie bastards. Go on, move!"

XXXX

For once, the Count did not pace about his manner, despite his pensive nature. No, he now sat, having managed to bring himself to his newly acquired desk, and examined the bottles before him. They gleamed brightly. Janus tested their weight in his hands, finding it light but not. He brought them to the glow of his candle and gave one a swirl, wondering what on Nirn the concoction contained. Obviously, his interest in the brew was not purely for knowledge's sake. It affected him. Frightened him. To the Vampire Count of Skingrad, the gleaming potion was more akin to a poison. A taste and he would be stripped of his Dark Gift, or more aptly, his beloved curse.

Once the Count had overcome the majority of his cravings, he selfishly loved his new unlife. Strength, power, skill, years to garner knowledge and rule unaging over the land he loved. Yes, he quite liked the affliction he was struck with, even if the other half of him despised the obvious cons and wondered if he would be...different if he drank the cure too. But that was no up to him. He had decided that. Despite his wants, he would put his status in the hands of another. But that would come in time. Now, Janus had to focus on the task at hand. Keeping his word to his wife.

The Count had hunted a witch down for fifty years, only in the end for her to find him - at least in a way.

Janus placed down the bottle and reached into his desk, grabbing the now worn, enchanted letter. He had continued to write to the witch, Melisande, on a nearly nightly basis. She had told him in writing that his desire was approaching. The Count had foolishly assumed his potions for Rona were soon to arrive by Dark Brotherhood courier. Had he known it was Abigale Lynn's return, he would have perhaps prepared himself better...or somehow tried to.

Abigale Lynn.

Her presence was overpowering his mind, but Janus managed to hastily write on the enchanted parchment. He focused on the other very important matter in his life. Rona. It was time. And as the ink sunk into the paper, his summons was delivered. The witch of Cyrodiil would make her way to his Castle and wake his wife, long enough for her to be cured of the disease she wished to escape from. This would ensure only one outcome for his wife. The true death she longed for.

Janus felt the now familiar cold grab at his heart, but the potency of pain had lessened. Of course, it hurt him, but this was not about his feelings. This was not about his pain - but about doing what was right for the wife he once cherished. His time with her had long ended. Only his loneliness and selfishness kept her. He could have ended her suffering long ago with his own hands...but he was not such a man. Perhaps a better husband would have. Janus would eternally question this.

Shutting the letter away once more, the Count glanced to his chamber door. He purposely kept himself from listening to the ongoings down the hall. The young woman needed a caring hand that was not his own.

Abigale Lynn.

He did not deserve her to be back. Reflecting on her absence had left him with only one conclusion - he desperately wanted her in his long unlife, so long as she was willing to accept his company. Despite all that happened before and after her leaving, nothing hurt as much as the quiet of her loss. It was a familiar silence that cut deeply into the Count like a blade. Knowing he had inflicted this pain upon himself this time left him appalled by his own behavior and sheer foolishness.

His stupidity, temper and possessive ways cost the woman he claimed to care for greatly. Janus could not fathom what her mind was going through, for indeed he knew her inner turmoil to be endless. The Count vowed to make whatever she desired an easy transition. He would do whatever it was she asked as well as any servant would. He loved her. He internally swore to cherish and protect all parts of the woman down the hall.

Abigale Lynn.

xxxx

"As I said, I think you should wait and rest. There is no need to put yourself through more stress on the Count's behalf, Gods' know." I nodded to the Stewardess, agreeing with her reason but refusing it all the same. I absolutely needed rest but I felt that I needed to see the Count more. All I had done being so on display for him filled me with unease. Fussing with my finely adorned purple dress, I wondered how deep the hole I dug was, again deciding that I would most certainly see the Count soon. I needed to know where we stood. I needed to know, rather than pondering and smelling the air for dirt.

Looking over to Hal-Liurz, I felt the wonderful comfort and familiarity that came with her presence. I had been so overcome with emotion earlier, it was pathetic, if not so normal for my character. "We need to speak, Stewardess - the Count and I. So much needs...explaining." I tried, feeling her skepticism. "I-I realize you may think there is little wisdom in this action but there is much I left out of our conversation that the Count knows of. I have to try to explain myself. I owe him that."

"You are a talker after all. You speak so much now." The Stewardess commented offhandedly, causing me to pause. That - my talking - was the product of Lucien Lachance, a reaction the Speaker made me learn. I had to while traveling with him.

All this drew a rouge image of the assassin to the forefront of my thoughts. I looked away from Hal-Liurz, pinching my lip between my teeth as she continued. "Perhaps it is as you said and not all bad came from this...ahem, Brotherhood arrangement." Then I perked at her words, feeling a strange prickle form up my spine and emptiness in my arms. An odd absence of warmth. It was as if the Stewardess read my thoughts or part of them; thoughts that I did not want to read myself. "Regardless, you owe the Count nothing. Rest should be your main priority. You need not explain yourself -"

"But I want to, Stewardess." I interrupted, hastily, firmly grasping that only the dread of the unknown awaited me should I try to rest. But feeling terribly rude for interjecting, I quickly apologized and attempted to gather my inner-self before continuing. "The Count must hear of all my wrongs from my lips before he so...so graciously welcomes me back to him."

"Perhaps some things are better left unsaid, Abigale."

Her tone said all. I did not doubt Hal-Liurz's knowledge over the situation. Still, at this, I could only nod. What I needed to explain were not the kind of activities one wanted to speak of. Yet I needed to desperately. I wondered if it was selfish. "You are probably right. But I will still tell him all. But because of this, I may not be here long. I-"

"If you only saw what happened in your absence, you would know as a bitter truth that the Count has no intentions of losing you." The Stewardess proclaimed and stood, folding her arms shortly after righting herself. "You will be here for a very long time. That is, should you agree to it."

I felt myself pale at her words. We lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. I was highly aware of the odd look the Stewardess had fixed on me. I could not place the sentiment but knew it bordered on the repulsed and sympathetic. "The Count he...he told you?"

"Yes."

More quiet followed. I knew I was being scrutinized. I also knew I deserved it.

My lips parted as I felt the weight of her judgment upon me. Unsure why I felt so compelled to do so, I turned my face from her and asked: "What are you thinking right now, Stewardess?"

The question burned. I needed to know another's opinion. Again, I was unsure as to why. I wanted some form of validation on my judgment - or lack thereof. I was truly happy to be back within the Count's command but terrified all the same. For even if I were the happiest woman, eternity is a heavy, heavy promise. Our tentative relations made me feel foolish. My aching heart clung to the idea of what could be between the Count and I should all go well.

"What do I think right now?" Hal-Liurz echoed, her brows knitting. When she deemed herself ready to speak, her voice was tired, and her opinion surprising. "I think that you are a girl, Abigale. Too young. A child." A nervous sound escaped me, curious and insulted, despite knowing I had no right to be. I had not expected my age - of all things - to be a factor. Now, it was and my face began to burn. But the Stewardess continued, her tone growing firm. "You should not be going through what you are right now. You cannot yet grasp the magnitude of the Count's request, and so should not answer it."

Feeling foolishly offended, I too stood, keeping my demeanor as calm as possible. However, the act of standing caused me to catch my reflection in the long mirror. The image of a rosy-cheeked girl, wearing a frilly gown with large, lavender ribbons in her hair fanned the flames of my uncertainty. I had to look away. She was right that there was much I should not go through, but that sentiment meant little now. "Young or no, I have already answered the Count's request. I am here, am I not? Should he accept me - I am here." My own words worsened the unease in my belly. "Stewardess...I am sorry. I-I must apologize again. I should not have posed such an odd question. Please, let us forget it. A-and would you ask if the Count would see me now?"

Hal-Liurz spoke to me quickly, stating something before leaving. Admittedly, I did not hear her over my own thoughts and thumping heart. Again, the woman - the girl - in the mirror on the wall caught my eye. She was confused and frightened, but I told myself that was alright. I was alright. I was home. Yet my smile looked crooked and strange, ate up by the confusion in myself. Turmoil and confusion that only a fool such as I could summon. Regardless, this was discouraging, should a smile be prompted. Perhaps a smile no longer felt right on my face. Still, I wanted, needed, to be as genuine as I could.

I vowed that.

xxxx

We began the short walk from the Green Room to the Count's Chamber. Hal-Liurz spoke occasional words of comfort, but she was already instructed to leave us once I was received by the Count. We wanted our privacy. There was much embarrassing talk to be done.

Dread formed in me and swelled once we stood before his door. I closed my eyes and gripped the brass knocker before the Stewardess could. It was cold and reassuring to me, much like the Count himself once was. I hesitated for the briefest moment as my thoughts raced, but I managed to force my mutinous reservations away. However, before the knocker could fall from my grasp, it was snatched away as the door itself pulled open, the action causing me to stumble forward some. The shadow in the door's crack caught and captured my gaze. I froze, hand open and reaching.

The Count stood, clutching the frame of the wood in a large, white grip. He stared down at me. Hauntingly beautiful garnet eyes kept me pinned. If one who did not know him glanced, they would think his expression stern, but I could tell by the simple parting of his lips how very nervous he was. This comforted me some.

I swallowed hard, hand still outstretched from holding the knocker. "W-would you see me, Sir?"

The door opened wider, the Count's full frame coming into view. "Of course." He replied, trying to mask the unease in his voice. Hal-Liurz stepped forward then, her sudden presence in my peripheral causing me to jump.

"We have done this before," She began, and I was very unsure who she was addressing. "Are you certain you wish to be alone?"

At this, I went to answer. Yes - I thought. But as my lips parted, I realized just how much dread accompanied me to the Count's door. Yes - I wanted to be here. No - not in these circumstances. The statement would be a lie, so I could not utter it. I could only nod to the Stewardess in response. The Count saw this. He watched my mouth move, stop, and seal closed as I finally responded with a tight nod. The Count was no fool. This hurt him. I watched him look away, his lips pressed together. He said nothing against it.

Hal-Liurz left us then, promising to not be far. A part of me wished she and all the rest of the Castle would depart while I confessed my shame. I felt as though all of Nirn was soon to hear my confessions.

For a moment I debated on lingering in the hall. It was difficult to garner the courage to walk by the Count. Indeed I did so as he moved for me to pass him, but I could feel his eyes and disappointment. It frightened me, so I suppressed the desire to scurry into the space and instead entered rigidly.

Stepping back into the Count's Chamber was surreal. My shoes touched plush carpets, my gaze pulled to the fireplace. It was aflame, carvings aglow and seating area bathed in soft firelight. My chest swelled. I followed the dancing shadows with my vision, over the large pillars and other finery. I then glanced up to the high vaulted ceilings, marveling at how the torchlight danced along the thick beams. From there, to the high, red canopy over the Count's bed, and the bed itself, and then to its messed covers.

All this brought a familiar heat to my face. I could almost envision myself in that very bed, sprawled and exposed for the entirety of the Chamber.

The door behind me closed and I suppressed the urge to again jump. Instead, I managed to turn my head back to the Count. He had moved some, closer to me, but only a little. I swallowed hard and toyed with the frill of my sleeve. He said nothing. I chewed my lip and forced myself to face him and give a small bow. At this, he looked away, and inside I panicked. After his sweet words earlier, I could not disappoint him, but I was madly unsure of myself and how to behave.

"Sir," My heart raced with the simple act of addressing him in such a familiar setting once more. One hand went to my chest and absently clutched at the fabric of my dress as my cheeks again turned scarlet. The mingling of joy and fear felt impossible to handle. Conveying how I felt - more so. The Count stood so still and patiently for me, and this embarrassed me further. "M-my Lord...I...I...I do not know how to proceed."

"Nor do I." Came his quick reply, the emotion in his voice making my belly flutter and knees uneasy. I could not stand myself for causing this obvious chasm between us. All this was my doing. I had to turn away from him, tears already burning my eyes. "I missed you so, Abigale Lynn."

The pain and weight of his statement made me hurt in ways I had not imagined existed. "H-how could you, Sir?" I asked, truly baffled that I was missed at all after what I had done. I had hurt him so. Lucien Lachance's face again came to my mind and caused the tears to break free from my lashes.

"Please, permit me to ask you not to weep." The Count spoke hurriedly, stepping closer, long fingers flexing. He wished to touch me. His face pleaded for me, I knew how to decipher this expression now. I both longed and feared for him to act on his desire. "I know that I am undeserving of your forgiveness. I vowed many things, yet knew not how to keep them. I made no purchase in my promises. I betrayed you in unfathomable ways, and cannot condone. Yet I-I..."

Puzzled, I wiped my face to clear my vision. What he said dazed me. Could he really believe he was the one who should seek forgiveness? "Sir? W-wha? No. I-I came here to confess my sins and be judged by you accordingly."

"Be judged by me?" The Count repeated, hurt lacing his tone. "You did nothing wrong."

Then I could only stand as I was again assaulted with the painful repercussions of my deeds. My head bowed, feeling far too heavy to lift. It was now too difficult to look the Count in the eyes. In spite of my best efforts, tears again fell, this time in large drops from my chin and to the floor. "You know that to be untrue."

Silence followed my whispered confession then. Gods, it was so very raw and I longed for it to stop. The shame felt endless. I was licentious and filthy.

The fire crackled and popped as I allowed myself to sob. I kept my posture bent and submissive now. I was so low and cowardly. I questioned my nerve for having dared show my face in Castle Skingrad at all. But I was needy and desperate. Above all things, I loved the Count dearly, as terrible a pair we seemed to make. "Abigale Lynn, I drove you to madness. Please..."

"Stop it. Stop it, please, Sir..." I begged, managing to look him in the eyes once more, finding we were again within arms distance. I could not stand his words, his thinking. He was so ready to be wrong that it mirrored myself and I despised it. "You gave me everything."

The Count again mirrored me as shame overtook his features. His eyes fell from me for a moment, as though he could not bear to meet my gaze. This action I had expected, just not for this reason. "And took it back from you. All I have done...I am no saint."

Unable to stand his misplaced burden any longer, I straightened, fueled with determination. I had to correct his wrongful guilt. "W-why do you fight me? You know well what I did! You act like it never was, you act like all was your fault, but you know what was done! You know I was with...I...that I-"

"Had another man." He interrupted, ice slipping into my veins. "Yes, I know, Abigale Lynn. I know."

I stood, stunned and mortified now that the truth was in the air. I knew my gaze to be wide and fearful but could not correct it. The Count's expression changed some, looking more stern as his brows had furrowed. I swallowed hard, now intimidated by our closeness. "Then why do you not hate me?"

"I cannot. I love you."

"Why?" I dared ask, so desperately. My gaze fell to my hands, filthy tools that roamed another body with such greed. When my words again left me, they were in a near dazed mumble. "I do not deserve it."

"You are right." A cold, heavy grip caught my shoulder, but I knew the action was meant to soothe and it again had me stunned. "You deserve far much better than myself." Then there was nothing more for me to do other than what came naturally to me - cry. I placed my hand over the Count's own and wept profusely. To his credit, the Count made no further move to embrace me yet. Perhaps he knew that I was presently unable to handle such an intimate touch in his Chamber.

"I betrayed you so gravely, Sir." I eventually managed, absently and vainly attempting to massage warmth into his digits. "I-I returned fully knowing you could hate me and wish me dead. B-but I selfishly wanted to be with you. What a terrible person I am to torment you like this."

"It is impossible for me to see how you view yourself as a tormentor. Seeing you, feeling you," As if to imply emphasis, the Count's free hand came up to my cheek. He froze though as if the action was too lewd before letting two knuckles graze my forehead. "I feel as though I have received the greatest blessing. I must know, Abigale Lynn, are you granting me another chance? Is this why you have returned?" The Count's eyes searched my face, and I knew my own expression to be mimicking his. His question was too good to be real. "I feel I must know before we proceed. I do not wish to make you uncomfortable. You are under no obligation to me any longer. I want your genuine happiness. But I must know..."

He was burning, like I was. I wondered then what the Count could possibly have planned that would make me feel uncomfortable. I swallowed hard and pushed such dark thought away before carefully bringing my hand to the Count's chest. I had known this man, but now touching him felt so very strange. And although his words made a part of me want to smile, the smallness of my hand against him made me gulp; Hal-Liurz's words from a short while before reminded me of our grave differences. "So long as you will have me, Sir, I am yours. Always." I tightened my grip against his overcoat, fingers entangling in the fur lining as I felt overcome by determination. "I swear it to you now. I-I wish to be yours, forever. L-like we promised. I want to be with you always. I am so, so sorry I had to find this truth out the hard way."

Another short bout of quiet followed my small declaration, broken by the Count himself, speaking gently. "Forever is a very long time, Abigale Lynn. It was wrong of me to demand that..." I closed my eyes, feeling something akin to a breath of fresh air flood my soul. It was almost too much for me to take in. However, hearing the Count speak of his wrongs moved and frightened me. I wanted him to continue to be certain and right. "But I am ashamedly glad by your answer."

"And I am ashamedly glad you asked eternity of me." Even if the prospect of it all was rather terrifying, I was indeed glad to have him still want my eternal presence.

XXXX

Inside the West Weald Inn, Lachance sat with a stained crimson cloth beneath his nose, restoration magic swirling in the air around him. Vicente hovered near, focusing his energies on knitting mortal bone - not his strongest of abilities. "I bet he is so pleased. His plaything, his little doll has returned. She is no more than a toy to him." The Dark Brotherhood Speaker continued drunkenly, blood continuing to run down his mouth and chin.

"What was she to you, Lucien? Honestly-" Vicente chided, fangs out as the scent of blood overpowered his senses. He was quite relieved by Lucien's drunkenness now. It dulled his pain, surely. And it made his judgment and punishment much more lax.

"She is my love. I love her." The mortal assassin glared, tossing the rag to the side.

Vicente's gaze followed the cloth before he dropped his hands. A final snap and grunt from his Speaker telling him his work was finally finished. "You knew that was a foolish thing to do. Fall in love with her. You know better than that, Brother."

"I could say the same to you."

The Vampire stiffened but raised no rebuke, instead, he turned his body from his Speaker and continued, quite solemnly, "We have some time before she shows, at least. I will have to inform the Count at some point. Sithis help us should he put this together. Although I am not sure how much damage I can now prevent." His expression and self became furious the more thought he put into the discussion. "You do realize this will all fall to me to fix, correct? The Hand will come down upon us both but I will be given the impossible task with repairing our relations now."

Author's Notes: AND THAT is where I'm calling this chapter! I am so not dead! Just work, work, WORK! I hope you are all enjoying the drama! XD Let me know your thoughts please! Next chapter is already in the works, as it's pretty obvious this one is broken for a freakin' update.