Author's Notes: *Slides into your email* Heyyyy been a lil' while, huh? Hehe...ehem. Welp, here I am! TADA? Anyone still here? Hello? No? Mayhap?! XD
Love or Blood
Chapter Seventy-eight: Emphasis
The following day was warm, almost unseasonably so. The Castle's cold was ever-present, however, I could feel a change in the air. The warmth had spurred me from my covers and out into the halls. I roamed aimlessly, fingers running the stone walls as I wondered how the world outside looked. Yet such thoughts evoked powerful guilt within me. I did all I could to keep such rebellious sentiments away.
At present and blessedly, the Count slept. We had spent nearly the entire previous day together and it had exhausted me. Although wonderful, being so very close and cordial eventually wore on me. My nerves felt taxed from minding my manners so now. I could not help but entertain the thought of the Count feeling similarly. It was an uncomfortable concept, but also a reasonable one. After all, the Count and I had been so very tactfully evading certain topics and shifting unsavory issues from our conversations for weeks. It left me depleted and in desperate need of quiet.
On I walked, in a poor attempt to collect my thoughts. Although physically feeling better, my spirit had dampened considerably. There were many awful things that had yet to occur in Castle Skingrad, but all were due to run their course. One such problem happened to be the impending arrival of Vicente Valtieri. Or, rather, I dearly hoped it was the elder Vampire - one of the lesser evils - that the Dark Brotherhood would send.
Despite being under the Count's constant care for the last month, our discussions regarding my time with the Brotherhood were quickly silenced...It was partly my doing, partly not. We spoke of lightly of my journey and where I traveled, yes, but both the Count and I avoided the more intimate details. When I first arrived back in Castle Skingrad, I was purely desperate to admit all my wrongdoings to the Count. With my deceit having since been acknowledged by him, I supposed I had in a small way. However, that brief discussion was the only time my infidelity had been addressed, and I felt it was not enough. I knew it was not enough.
The Count was curious. Very curious. I could sense it in him, mostly; I would swear that I could feel his interest. Other times, it was more prominently displayed, due to an odd question or look. Although I had wanted to desperately sate the Count's curiosity and tell him all, another part of me - perhaps a wiser part - advised me to withhold such things. My reasoning for this was morbid, as I was not biting my tongue out of cruelty or shame, but rather as a precaution. Some of the Count's inquiries came with a dangerous air. Thus far, we had avoided all hostility. I truly did not know how we managed such peace, but I was mindful to keep it.
A month prior, I had returned to my Count, ready to be judged and accepting that I would die. Yes, would die. Now, with the Count so kind and sympathetic, I was doing all that I could to keep him in such a way. It was a more comfortable union now, almost equal. It granted me more time to digest the commitments I was to make on behalf of my heart.
The Dark Brotherhood was ready to intrude on my carefully constructed tranquility. The Count and I had enough trials we were to deal with, our wounds still fresh. I did not want my unfaithfulness brandished before the man I both loved and feared again. I did not want the Count angry. I did not want the Count hurt. I wanted his happiness and mine, and I was garnering the heart to take on the Count's eternal pledge to prove this... My vow was but one thing we delicately touched upon - my becoming a bride and more - an eternal love to the Count. Although gently discussed, it was quite clear that the Count still held me to this promise after I vowed my love forever. Nevertheless, I feared the Dark Brotherhood's interference would hasten my obligation, as it would fill the Count with insecurities.
Indeed it was confusing, as I did not want to die...but I would be reborn. And I loved the man who had once asked this of me. I would comply, in time. At present, I was not prepared. Though, truly, I doubted I would ever be 'ready' for such a thing. There was much I currently denoted too overwhelming, my accepting the Count's Dark Gift was simply one such thing.
My thoughts slowed my steps some, but I forced myself to continue on. With no destination in mind, I eventually found my way to the Count's study. I stopped by the door and leaned against the stone. Despite my anxieties, I was very glad to be back. I was overwrought with emotion, yes, but so very fulfilled all the same. The desire to be with the Count was a feeling that never left me during my travels. He was always a constant in my thoughts, even being such a foolish and dangerous wish. The Count had been positively awful to me prior to my leaving. I knew his treatment was wrong and wicked...but in a mix of madness, love, hurt, and naivety, I returned to him - hurt being my greatest motivator.
Lucien Lachance's crimes against my family still had me reeling. I had cared for the assassin, he had tried for my happiness, in his own way. It made me wonder, had I never discovered such an atrocity, would I have still eventually left the assassin? The sad truth was that I did not know the answer. I loved the Count but my fear of him far surpassed any similar sentiment I harbored towards the assassin. Yes, Lucien Lachance was exceedingly dangerous, and it was foolish not to think of him so. Yet he had treated me well, assured my comforts, and lovingly tended to me. Only in Bravil did it go truly rotten. Had I not found out about my parents' demise at his hands, he would have had me longer. Perhaps not forever, as I loved the Count, but I could not deny the odd bond Lucien and I had formed. I enjoyed his presence. He had been my friend. A friend I routinely shared flesh with.
An image of the assassin came to me then. I could see him sleeping in my mind's eye: one arm behind his head, his chest rising and falling, a scattering of morning sunlight from outside our tent dotting him. In sleep, Lucien looked so very at peace, and so very normal. I had spent many hours studying his sleeping form, wishing away his darkness, but accepting it all the same. Recreant as I was, I had turned a blind eye to his behaviors, for I needed his protection and comfort. Only when on the receiving end of Lucien Lachance's diabolical acts did I leave him. I was not blind to this truth, I felt it defined me.
My absolute cowardice was on display for me to view. My entire existence was one of shame and contradictions. It pained me to be so weak, and I was in all aspects, from my morals to my physical capabilities. I was utterly useless. I needed another's strength and protection to survive. Such a truth was hard to accept. Especially now, with all said and done, as I still needed security. The Count's security.
Although my return had so far been a smooth transition - besides my random bouts of sickness - it would be the greatest lie to say that I was wholly comfortable. I was glad to be back. I loved the Count. I was home...but I knew the Count now. I knew what he could do, should he have the mind to do it. The Count and Lucien Lachance had some similarities. In the end, they both fell to violence towards my person. But Lucien was mortal, the Count was not. I was not sure why this mattered so, but I felt it did. I had also noticed that with the Dark Brotherhood Speaker, my word and will held more weight. Whether this was some from mortal empathy on Lachance's part or just a weakness for myself, I knew not. Regardless, the Count was infinitely more severe. I had survived Lucien Lachance, I had not survived the Count's anger.
I pulled myself from the wall and looked down the corridor, my thoughts suddenly forming many grim connections. With an unexpected destination in mind, I let my feet carry me on back down the hall. An odd sense of purpose fueled my steps as I passed the Count's room once more. I needed to continue to be brave. I loved the Count and I wanted him to love me, but I could not live in fear. I did not want to be afraid of him, nor did I want to continue on with our facade of wellness. Our problems needed to be addressed. I did not want to pretend that all was well and no awfulness had occurred. Perhaps it was wrong of me to want to go over our 'problems', perhaps letting it lie was kinder...but I found that I cared not for being kind. What I wanted, truly cared about, was obtaining and holding onto happiness. I was ready to face a great many evils for it.
With an oddly still hand, I gingerly prodded at the door latch to the Manor's holding closet, finding it unlocked. With no hesitation, I pushed open the door and stared into the utterly black room. What little light offered from the hall was eclipsed as I entered the small space. I raised my hand into the blackness and focused my energies, watching as tiny particles came forth from nothingness, glowing and spinning. The small bits of magic merged, forming a bright, neat, little orb in my palm. I held it out to the room, illuminating the space, thinking of a time where such magic was mysterious to me. I had once watched the Count in awe as he summoned light. His, of course, was a much more impressive spectacle, but I still felt pride over my new abilities.
I closed the door behind me and examined the area. It was a remarkably small and unassuming little room, the size of a broom closet with a little bed bolted to the wall. Surprised by my lack of trepidation, I further the chamber. There was much hidden within the Castle that I needed to carefully examine. I could no longer overlook the ugly or terrible. To turn a blind eye was as foolish as it was dangerous.
Smoothing the coarse sheet on the cot, I tried to reimagine the awful night I had my first taste of the Count's darkness. It was a difficult thing to forget, and yet there was much I knew to be missing from my recollections.
The Count had sought me out as I remained in his library. I had been hurt and confused, due to our odd talks and his confessions. I naively thought it would be best to await his orders, allow him space while still being close if needed or desired. Indeed, I was foolish. I had not the faintest grasp of the danger that lied in store for me.
I could not forgive him for it.
Finding my sudden clarity of thought odd, I frowned at my own musings. I knew I had put the Count through much. I did betray him - perhaps equally, perhaps not. Regardless, in my heart of hearts, I knew I would never pardon him, for that nor many other things. My return to him was spurred from hurt... The assassin had murdered my family. I had to leave him, it was the most noble thing my sorry self had ever done. Yet, even in this action, I still held selfish sentiment. Childishly, I loved the Count of Skingrad, the man who could treat me wicked if he wished. Regardless, the Count was a greater man than the Dark Brotherhood Speaker. A far greater man, even with all his faults and cruel acts. I felt lowly for having taken so long to accept this. I had been so afraid. In truth, I still was. This 'fear' was different, however. The Count's violence was not random. I could not say the same for the assassin.
Lucien Lachance...how that man invaded my thoughts. I was still impossibly angry and jaded - more at myself than the Imperial. I had fallen into the plans he designed for me with such minimal opposition. In truth, I merrily yielded to his dilapidated fantasy. I had been so impossibly afraid of my Count that I was willing to overlook all Lucien's atrocities. I was so easily manipulated. I genuinely thought the Count was a monster. My naivety was baffling. The Count was scorned, he was angry, he was hurt. Although by far not right, his actions were not stemmed from evil. Were they vile to myself? Absolutely, I saw this now. I could not forgive him for such deeds. But no longer was I so blinded, as I had come to know a far more vile entity.
"Kill me." My mind echoed my plea, so brokenly lustful and pained.
The Dark Brotherhood Speaker was purely wicked to all of Nirn but he had limits when in regards to my person. Even in our violent joining of Bravil, he could have very much done more. Going by the assassin's inclinations, I should have been killed. Why he did not decide to end my life was an unsettling mystery. In truth, I longed to confide in someone about the terrible deeds that occurred in the awful, little, town. He confessed to the murder of my family, he killed an innocent man before me, he dragged me through the mud, he assaulted me, he violated me...
Raped, my mind tried to correct, and I physically shook my head, the magical light in my hand flickering. I thought of my shameful lust and desperate, weak, need for normalcy with him. I had begged him for death, all the while feeling desire burn in my belly. I was uncertain what it was to be called, but 'rape' did not sit well in my conscience. Though the action should be viewed as unnatural and wrong, I had clung and found familiar pleasure in him. I drifted off to sleep in his arms. I did not fight. I did not want to. It was my sad goodbye to the happy lie we had constructed. Although it hurt, it had to end. I was tentatively appreciative of finding out all the terrible truths. Lucien Lachance was as I had originally estimated: he was mad. His mind, truly, was broken.
"You are positively insane, Lucien. You are so twisted and sick that it hurts to look upon you."
I sat upon the cot and stared at the stone. It was offensive to my small honor, but I wished there was something that could help the assassin, he was - had been - my friend. A strange part of my soul missed him. I was still unused to waking lying in my luxurious bed, alone and cold and quiet. No longer did I want to be so lonely. Lucien Lachance had taught me the comforts of a man. Now I wished to feel that comfort once more, but not with the murderer. No, I longed to be intimate with the Count of Skingrad.
This truth caused me to reflect a great deal. I had lain with my parent's killer. I had overlooked many diabolical acts. My virtues were warped and selective. Still, thinking of being so intimate with the Count caused me a level amount of discomfort. I was quite sullied now...and The Count was still married. I knew not why it mattered so to my heart, but it did. It was uncomfortable. Again, I had slept with the murderer of my family, after learning of the deed. Yet my imagined touchings of the Count in an immodest manner made me feel equally wrong. I knew this was due to my odd and damaged character. I also knew that I needed to seek correction.
The Count had made no true mention of his wife's impending rest or the cure. I had been so weak and sickly upon arrival, I believed he feared such talk would further ail me. I was glad of his decision. Unfortunately, much like my wanton treachery, we needed to discuss it - her end - and soon. Now that I was well and more cognitive, our mutual silence was near maddening. Our secrets were there and waiting to be confessed. Truly, I had grown so used to someone's constant voice that now sitting in the quiet with the Count, speaking lightly of idle things, discomforted me.
Neither of us would be ready for it, but we both knew there was much to go over. The Count was soon to put his wife to rest. I had been across Cyrodiil, having a dark tryst with a murderer. So much I needed to get off of my chest and I believed the Count felt similarly. Not only did he wish to know of my time away, he longed to tell me of his solitude. I could see it in his stare. Though the burden had lessened, even with all the stress I surely applied, weight was still upon him. Much like my longing for an ear to tell of all my woes and failures, the Count too expressed this, by his mirroring look alone. Even so, the Count was able to conceal this wanting look better. I could only detect it so easily because I too felt ensnared by my secrets, I knew how such turmoil twisted one's features now.
In spite of all, the Count was so very happy that I returned. His smile was wide and kind, his touch was soft, his patience endless. He was genuinely glad to have me, in spite of all that I had done. I longed to reciprocate this sentiment, but my feelings were more conflicting. I was thankful to be back, to have made it back to him. I loved him. And yet, his joy made me feel odd...Ashamed. I was unworthy.
A sudden knock to the chamber's entrance jolted me from my thoughts. I stood abruptly, magic flickering in my hand as I turned towards the sound. Light spilled into the space as the door began to open, none other than the Count standing in the hall. Bathed in the blue glow of my spell, he glanced about the little room oddly, scrutinizing my actions while looking unkempt. I took in his attire, robed and in boots, his dressing hasty. The Count had arisen fast once he heard me moving about. I was still unused to his constant watch over myself. The Count was with me even when he was not present. It was odd, but I tried to welcome it. I had missed his strict attention.
I was slightly miffed, slightly startled. I longed for him to go back to bed, thinking of my self-reflecting to be healthy, though I knew why he rose to keep me from it. This particular room was a very unkind place for me to be, of course, and he had made it that way.
The Count sighed then, long and weary. There was a pause, in which I did not shift, despite feeling uncomfortably suspect. "Abigale Lynn, what possessed you?" He eventually spoke, his voice was not unkind but firm and questioning. "The Castle has many places for you to roam and wander to. Why here? Why this chamber?"
At first, I answered him with nothing but a stare, feeling caught for reasons I did not want to recollect. Letting the light slowly fade from my fingertips, I decided to try and respond honestly. Rather, as honestly as I was able. "I wanted to be brave." My reply was met with a concerned and curious look. The Count frowned, now scrutinizing the little area with a critical air. I wondered if he did not understand, I wondered if he took offense. I swallowed hard and forced indifference. "I wanted to confront something, Sir. Even if that something is small, has no voice and cannot fight back. I feel a need to. It is a small step forward, I-I think. I am readying myself."
The Count said nothing, despite looking as though he had much to comment on. Eventually, he gifted me with a small nod of acknowledgment, his eyes scraping every corner of the space we occupied, his expression turning. I realized I wanted to say more, much more, but thought the area and timing were wrong. Instead, together, we lapsed into another awkward silence. The Count, now no doubt grasping my intentions, eventually stepped away from the door. Again he looked as though he had a mind to speak. Instead, the Count only cocked his head to the side, beckoning me to join him. I followed him out fast, unsure of how to act, and immeasurably thankful once he decided to speak for me.
"Why do you feel the need to ready yourself for confrontation?" The Count held an arm out to me, his free hand pulling the door closed. I accepted him, all the while keeping my gaze to the floor, though not wholly out of shame. No, but it was the softness of his voice that made my gaze drop. I did feel partially guilty for bringing up such darkness, but I also knew that it would inevitably have to be discussed. "I am glad that you believe yourself well-enough for such a thing, though I do not think it to be necessary."
"I believe it to be," I answered, voice small. I felt that I was forcing the Count and myself into an uncomfortable predicament. This, though, I felt needed to be done. I greatly appreciated our quiet and peace but knew it was soon to be disturbed. I felt it prudent now to tell the Count of my feelings...before someone of the Brotherhood decided to give their poor interpretation of my actions. "My Lord, we have...we still have many trials that we have yet to face. I think it wise to ready ourselves and prepare. We should be honest with one another."
Watching the Count's profile as we walked, I easily detected the sudden change that accompanied my statement. His gaze sharpened as he continued to stare ahead, tone aloof, though I knew him to be listening carefully. "Honest. Have you not been 'honest' with me, Abigale Lynn?" This too I was not yet used to. The Count and his shifts in mood. I had thus far been spared his temper, though I did wonder how long I could be spared such a thing, especially when on such a topic.
"I...I have, Sir." I tried with caution, wracking my mind for any recent, prominent lie. Thankfully, I found none, though I was highly aware of the many things I still withheld. "Yet there are questions that remain unasked...about my time away. C-concerns you have kept to yourself, out of kindness for me." I chewed my lip, attempting thoughtfulness, attempting to be kind...while also desperately hoping to be cunning and clever. I needed to control the information the Count was to learn - not the Dark Brotherhood. "Please, no longer show me such clemency. Y-you have every right to this. Ask what you wish, even if uncomfortable. I shall answer you."
"There happens to be a great deal of many things that I desire to know. My curiosity is no secret to you, I am sure. I question the good of this, however. You have claimed to tell me the 'important' aspects of your journey. All other queries from me would be selfish and vain." The Count frowned a little, bowing his head some to me as he spoke. "I do not know what purpose knowing for the sake of knowing would serve. Nor do I wish to discomfort you, Abigale Lynn."
I too turned, hoping to capture the Count's gaze, feeling a measure of distress as his attention remained fixed down the hall. "Do I not deserve it, Sir?"
Before I had arrived in Skingrad, I knew the terrible anger the Count felt towards my betrayal. It seemed to melt from the man upon my arrival. I did not like it, I did not think it right or healthy, either. I knew - felt - the Count's resentment. It still lingered within him somewhere. I wanted him to express it, even if only by a modicum. Acting as though all was well troubled me. No good could come from it, especially when others would soon bring the things he wished to not know to his attention. The Count needed to hear such awful things from my lips first. If anything, it would soften the blow.
"You speak with such conviction now. You should not. You judge yourself harshly." The Count stated, matter-of-factly. "Perhaps you need to talk of these things, more for your benefit than mine. It troubles you."
We wound our way back to the Green Room, my room. I sighed, again looking towards the Count. I did not like how I was to be retrieved and brought back to my Chambers. Yet I did see an opportunity to continue our talk by utilizing my woes and concerns. "You may be right, my Lord. But I do not wish to unsettle you while alleviating my own conscience. It is selfish. I am sorry, Sir."
"Do not be." The Count said, his voice dipping low and growing thoughtful. He released me by the Chamber door, eyes searching and expression concerned. His worry did guilt me. It hurt how much he cared. At times when his face was so genuine and empathetic, I could almost forget the pains we inflicted upon each other. Almost. "If it would make you feel better, if it brings any small semblance of comfort back to yourself, of course I will hear you."
"You would?" The Count nodded. I chewed my lip, feeling relieved, and not all, all at once. "Won't you come in?"
XXXX
Janus followed close behind the young woman as they entered her room. Despite the space now being very familiar to the pair, the Count felt strange whenever he entered the room. This Chamber now belonged to Abigale Lynn. For the better part of a month, after she first returned to the Castle, his poor love had been so weary. She took to her bed for quite some time. Janus had entertained her as best as he was able, purchasing things for comfort and staying to talk for hours on end. Everything was light and gentle. Janus could not imagine all she had no doubt been through.
The Count wanted her swift recovery and so sought nothing she was not willing to divulge. All made for a smooth transition. Her return had not been marred by unpleasantness. Of course, the Count had questions, being both personal and uncomfortable. He had locked them deep inside and told himself the woeful unknown was as he deserved. Thusly, Janus was nervous and partially stunned at her sudden want for such a discussion. And although the topic set his vision red, not his nerves - nor temper - would stop him from hearing her confessions. For deeper reasons than his curiosity, the Count was more than willing to hear his love. She was still hurting. It was his fault. He sought to soothe.
Abigale Lynn sat, taking a chair at her little table, surrounded by a neat array of small comforts still scattered from recent use. Janus looked at his young love, eyeing her fairness, mournfully thinking of the topic at hand. The Count had thus far 'enjoyed' not discussing her activities. Having to confront such unsavory actions guilted and repulsed him. He had frightened her into such a predicament. He had spurred the act. It was his fault...yet it hurt him. Janus deeply questioned his worth as a lover and more. Yet this 'hurt' went further. This was no mere dalliance, no accidental joining. Abigale Lynn went back for more from this other man, again and again.
The Count was vainly curious and it all stung. Yes, yes, a selfish part of him wished to interrogate, to demand why, to have her enumerate every last licentious detail...Yet Janus did not know what good this would serve him, nor did he fully understand why his heart wanted to be further hurt. The impossibly strong feelings Abigale Lynn set off while in the arms of another man set the Count ablaze with anger. His imagination had run wild, it still did, should he think on her actions - which, unfortunately, he did each day. His mind would paint a picture in vivid and sordid detail.
"Will you not ask me something, my Lord?" Abigale Lynn's little voice brought the Count from his lurid imaginings and back to the present. She stared at him, visibly anxious.
Again, Janus questioned the good of this conversation. A long, weary exhale left him in a cool rush. He eyed a chair, yet decided not to take it. Sitting comfortably, as if they were discussing something mundane over wine or tea, seemed as preposterous as attempting normalcy. He was on edge, pretending otherwise would do him no favors. "Are you not the one who desires confession? Tell me what it is you long to say, Abigale Lynn. I shall listen."
"I-I was hoping that you would aid me with questions. Give us start."
"You long for me to interrogate you. This feels to be more punishment than aid." Janus refocused his attention back onto the young woman, his stare unintentionally hardening. "You should not long for discipline by me. I understand my position in all this. I forced your hand, your actions were spurred by me. This guilt you harbor is wrong. You had reason for doing...you just had reason. The true crimes here are mine. Put all other woes to bed."
"Sir, I cannot. Nor can I stop questioning my actions. I want others to question them too." Abigale Lynn shifted in her seat, her fingers, which happened to be intertwined on the table's top, began to twiddle nervously. "This is how I think it is best to be approached. I long to answer for my crimes. Please, ask me something."
Janus' posture shifted and went from flustered to stiff. Behind his lips, his tongue ran anxiously over his teeth, lingering at his fangs that he longed to keep in check. He knew Abigale Lynn would not stop until sated. She was sullen. Contrite. She always had been. Wrongful, misplaced, or not, she desired questioning and correction. The Count felt it to be wrong to deny his love this. Cruel as he believed it to be, it was as she desired. He owed her much more than this dark request. "Fine. Why do you feel as though your actions were 'crimes'? We both know I gave you more than adequate justification."
"All I did was cowardly. I am a coward." She began, not a moment spared. "I allowed things a normal person would not all for the sake of my own comforts. I think...I think you blame yourself as harshly as I do. B-but that not my only motivator. To be secured - that is what I sought. I allowed foulness to befall others to ensure my safety."
"That is mortal, Abigale Lynn. Human." Janus found Abigale Lynn's eagerness to speak of such things upsetting. Her personal views left a bitter taste in his mouth. She had carried her guilt quietly for weeks, now she was near bursting from shame and the conversation had just begun. Regardless, he was curious. Her wording was strange and left the Count greatly uncomfortable. He tried not to show it. "What actions did you permit?"
"Anything. Everything." Janus remained silent, feeling unease, yet permitting her to continue at the pace she set. "At first it was as I was told 'Behave and all will be well'. I did so, but more." Abigale Lynn made a little face, her fidgeting renewed. "It was...empowering. So long as I abided by certain rules, I could do as I pleased. I relished the small power of being so unharmed. I flaunted it and myself. 'Behave' proved a loose term, my Lord. I have gone over these things again and again in my mind. Never before had I held such authority over myself...Yet, when I no longer was held by bonds to such a command, my behavior did not stop. I knew it was wrong, I should not have done the things I did, yet I believed it wise at the time. I acquired a protector."
Her eyes met his, the look meaningful and sad. Janus carefully pieced together her meaning, knowing now exactly where this discussion was heading. He longed to stop it. He longed to ease her. "You used what you had to secure yourself from me. You were afraid, Abigale Lynn, and I made you that way. I had you thrust into such a position. I had you believing that you had little options besides the ones immediately presented. I was the cause of all the madness you endured."
"I appreciate your words, my Lord, but it was not so black and white. There were other ways...but I was far too feeble. I chose what was easiest on myself, rather than setting out on my own. And in the end, I...I..." Abigale Lynn swallowed hard, her cheeks growing pink in a shameful blush. She tore her gaze from the Count as if she could not bear to look upon him while talking any longer. "He treated me as equal. Swayed me with his natural self. He listened. Talked. Kept me safe and tended. He took care of me. He fell in love. Promised to make me happy...I liked it, Sir." It was Janus' turn to look away. His brows furrowed, but his expression remained placid, as though he was attempting to feign indifference for himself. His look was almost curious, but inside he was hot with rage. Again, he wanted nothing more than to kill this man - this walking filth with a heartbeat. This lovesick wretch needed to perish by his hand..."I am so very sorry. I did not love him, but I enjoyed his care and self. I felt I owed him my love, after all he gave. S-so when he asked for more, acted passion and compassion, I-I...I honored his wish."
The silence that followed her was deafening, lapsing into an odious and threatening thing. The Count could smell her fear, taste it on his tongue when he parted his lips to respond, but no words came to him. Thoughts, purely red and lacking proper linguistic description, plagued him. Steadily, his temper rose, swelling, boiling, and all-consuming. He longed to stifle it, he did not want to cause any harm or anguish to his Abigale Lynn...but the implication - no - the truth, set him ablaze with wrath that needed to be exuded. He eyed the girl, truly looked at her, as abstract, bestial perversion ran rampant in his mind. "Tell me it then." Janus spoke, his voice devoid of emotion. Inside he smoldered, outwardly, his hands formed into fists so strong his knuckles burned from pressure; he hid them from her view. "You so wish to confess. Tell me it. Your first time with him. I am to hear it. I want to know how you were seduced."
Her stare was pleading. Pathetic and beautiful. Full, pink lips quivered as she thought on what she could divulge. This angered the Count further. This was her idea, her desire. She was right to have it, yes. Regardless, it hurt. It was not something one wanted to hear. "Sir..."
Janus longed to shout, longed to destroy whatever he could grasp, but he remained firmly rooted across from her. Standing sentinel by the table, he only glared, voice firm and demanding. "This was your request. We shall see it through. Tell me."
More fidgeting, more stalling. His anger was further kindled by her silence. His stare turned unwavering and cold, it forced her to speak. "A-at night. Camping. B-by a fire." She near whimpered, looking so small and dejected. This was a challenge for her, he knew this, and it was painful for both. Regardless, Janus had every intention of making her see this discussion through to its merciless end. Again, this was as she desired. However, Abigale Lynn's obscure tale did little to help his hurt and curious self, nor did she yet appear at peace. If anything, all left Janus to feel cheap and insulted, as though all this present strife was for naught. If she had hoped to end their talk on such an abrupt note, she was sorely mistaken. Janus would force her to complete her admission. She needed too...perhaps they both did.
The Count bitterly observed her as she pulled her hands into her lap, feeling greatly offended by her vague retelling. He was aggrieved and distressed by her memories and current inaction. He would not allow this to fester and loom over them. It needed to be finished. "Is that really it?" Janus snapped, unable to keep the bite from his tone this time. "I am not a child. Tell me all."
"We were on the ground." Her voice wavered terribly. Abigale Lynn's eyes began to glimmer from unshed tears. She stared at the man before her, the look aghast and desperate as the meager detail left her lips. Her fear grew, and by the Nine he hated this current fear and shame she harbored. But Janus knew, painful and awful as it was, his anger - for once - was serving a greater purpose. "I-I do not want to hurt you, Sir. This hurts. We sh-should stop."
"I forced your hand, I know what I did. We both do. Cuckold myself like the damnable fool I am. I faced myself in your absence. It is your turn." Driven, the Count took a step forward, asserting himself, not to infringe upon her comfort, but to make her see. Compel her to understand. "Was this not your intention? To be 'brave' and confess? Nevermind my feelings. You wish to tell - do it. I promise you, swear to you, I am listening, Abigale Lynn. Let it be heard."
"He kissed me." She continued, forced, an audible tightness in her voice, tears finally breaking free as they raced down rosy cheeks. She broke there anew before Janus. She sobbed, expression contorting to pure misery. It hurt the Count so, it took such strength, but he remained firm and so said nothing. She. Needed. This. "I wept. I-I wanted you. I wanted to be with you...but by the Gods I was afraid of you. I still am, Sir." Hastily, Abigale Lynn wiped away her tears with trembling fingertips, the action useless as more raced and fell. "He told me 'let this be', and I did. He stripped me naked on the forest floor. I was ashamed, so ashamed. B-but I wanted to feel...I wanted...I needed something more than fear. I needed a distraction from longing and shame. I am so weak, my Lord. I went to him, again and again, to help me forget. To help me forget. S-start something new... I-I had to forget you..." More sobs. Abigale Lynn sniffled, shoulders slumped, she hugged herself, looking up to meet Janus' gaze. For a moment she only stared, head slowly shaking back and forth. "But I couldn't...I can't."
Abigale Lynn buried her face in her hands and wept. Despite her sorrow, despite the images making the Count inwardly seethe, Janus felt as though air returned to the room. Gradually, he loosened, listening to her cry. Her actions tormented her...but he hoped dearly that she felt relief. Even a semblance of peace was better than nothing. The exchange was far more important than the wounding of his pride. Of course it hurt, it hurt terribly, but it was done and it was due. Her actions were spurred by his misuse, his abuse of her fragile self. She needed time to heal, they both did, and he would aid her however he was able.
Wordlessly, Janus approached the weeping girl. She startled as he bent to her, placing his large hands upon her hips. Her eyes were full of questions and fear. He allowed that. He understood it.
Abigale Lynn gasped loudly as she was lifted out of the chair. Janus held her in his hands, raising her up high at arm's length. The action was easy, he was a vampire, she no more burdensome than a book in his hold. Instinctively, her fingers clutched at his arms, gripping him tightly, expression bewildered and panicked. He kept her there, high above himself. She stared at him, at the room, rightfully anxious and untrusting. The Count knew not how to apologize, nor how to soothe such pains in her heart. Yet he desired to try and confess himself. Again, to make her see.
"Abigale Lynn, look at me. Look down upon me." Janus began, voice firm, garnering the girl's full attention. Although she did not outwardly panic, he could easily see it in her eyes, and adjusting his tone to a much more gentle one, he continued. "You need not be afraid. You need not be ashamed. Accept my fault in this, accept my blame. Do not pity me, understand me. I caused this. I did. We may both be to responsible for our actions, but I started all. I beg of you to hold that truth and this: you are above me. You have always been above me, yet you forget that. I promise to remind you every day of your greatness and worth. Do not let regrets define you. Rise above them in your grace...and look down upon me." The girl above him blinked, looking unsure, but Janus continued, again capturing her stare. "You do not owe me your trust but I will prove my worth to you. Only watch, my love. I am fulfilled by that, by your look. I shall be better. As a man, as a lover, I shall be better. I will make your heart sing, I will make you tremble and weep with pleasure. I vow this, I swear it. You need only look down upon me and watch."
xxxx
My shoes met the carpet as I was lowered carefully back down to Nirn. I shivered, staring up at the Count, feeling so, so strange as his garnet stare held me in place. The Count of Skingrad made me a great many promises in our time together. Unfortunately, most of those were broken. This though...this was an unusual vow. I was unsure how to accept it, accept him. It was an odd pledge but I was grateful for it. He was driven, almost madly so, and although I still did not trust him fully, I put stock in his words.
"Do you feel any better?" The Count asked, again effectively pulling me from my thoughts. His tone was warm and consoling, it comforted me greatly.
Closing my eyes, I took in a deep breath, attempting to release some tension in myself. Indeed, I felt something. Different. I still held many secrets, many damning things that could come back. I would be forever haunted by my cowardice, but this was something. A small start. Being so honest was painful, but I felt it required. The Count and I had been through much, pretending all was well had been wreaking havoc on my soul. I was happy I managed to tell him such a terrible truth. I was happier still with his handling of it and me. "I...I think so, Sir."
I felt a gentle ruffling of my hair then. Instinctively, I startled, my eyes flashing open upon the contact. I watched the man before me, all nerves as I took his deceptively charming features in. Carefully, the Count had woven his fingers into my locks at the back of my head. He stepped closer, his body large and looming. I felt myself being taken, swallowed whole by his shadow. Then the Count bent down, placing cool lips to my forehead in a tender, lingering kiss. Again, my eyes closed. lids feeling heavy as I took in his scent - that spice - hardly discernable over the smell of the soaps used to wash his robe. "I love you very much, Abigale Lynn. One day I hope to earn the honor of your love. But I must ask one additional favor of you: keep secrets from me no longer, no matter how terrible they may be. You do not need to fight the battles I started alone."
I sighed, letting my hand fall to the fine linens of his garment, fingering the fabric gently. "O-only if you take equal blame, not all of it. This was not all your doing, my Lord. It hurts to know how harshly you judge yourself." I awaited his response, watching curiously as all that was offered happened to be a tight nod. It disheartened me some, but I knew now that the Count truly did blame himself harshly for my actions. I did not like this, it simply was.
"All I can promise is that I shall try," He eventually murmured, causing more of my woes to abate some. "For now, I think it would be best for you to rest. If you are willing, come nightfall, we shall walk the grounds together. The air should do us both some good."
Author's Notes: So, yeah, kinda getting back into emotions. I think we can all agree Abby deserved a break from drama. She had a month XD This chapter was supposed to go on but I didn't know how long it would take before I finished it, and I know it was a loooooong time again since the last installment. Doing my best here, we all know how the world is right now. The drama ain't over yet, folks! And this was a Lucien free chapter! What is that delightfully deranged man up to? No good, I promise XD ALSO, PLOTHOLE: Three cures. Abby grabbed two. One went back with Lucien. How could I forget to write that in? Because I am stupid. So that is how Nerah Vlando became human again. Derp, derp. There was a longer more convoluted explanation on how they cured Nerah (which was supposed to be elaborated on in Envy hehe...) but this is not a Nerah Vlando centered tale. So, forgive the major HOLE in the story. I might go back and fix it. NOW BEFORE YOU GO I have one tiny treat(?) for you! If anyone is bored, I rewrote chapter 11 (which translates to chapter 9, Book of Names) This story needs to be polished and in my spare time I might dust off more for ya. I love writing this still. Like, yo, I started this when I was 13! Serious dedication here XD Please, please, plz leave a review and lemme' know how you liked it or hated it 8D!