Author's Note: Sorry for the slow update! I'm searching for a beta to help me keep on schedule and get things done. And I want to say, thank you all so much for the wonderful reviews. I have a tendency to mix up which ones I've responded to and which I haven't, but I'll say here that every one is adored and appreciated. When I'm sitting in front of a blank screen, unable to write for fear of screwing it up, coming back here to read what you guys have said helps me break through. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.

"I will not resist the temptation to say I told you so."

I scowled, biting into an apple and rubbing sleep from my eyes as Lucien strummed his fingers on the table, waiting for me to finish my breakfast. My head ached, throbbing dully at each sound, at each movement. Thank the gods for remedies. I took another swallow of the foul potion I'd concocted, grimacing and praying it would work before I was forced into sunlight.

"Quite finished?" Lucien raised a brow as I stood, smirking at my growl.

"Quite, except my robes stink of mead and I've nothing to change into - " I blinked as he presented a small package.

"Taken care of, pet." He threw the package across the table, watching me as I tore it open.

"What's this for?" I frowned in confusion as I pulled a set of robes from the package, carefully running my hand over the cool material. Dark green, soft and well-made. Like the Apprentice robes I'd first been given in the University. I raised a brow, suspicious.

"I suppose I can't expect you to remember. Let's just say you owe me a favour." He smirked before turning businesslike. "Go. I'll be waiting by the door."

"Fi - " He left before I could speak. I sighed, changing quickly. Fine. Something whispered in the back of my mind, a niggling feeling of doubt and suspicion, but I pushed it aside. Whatever this favour I owed him was, it could wait. The halls were silent as I approached the ominous black door - everyone's out on contract, I suppose. I scowled, glancing around, seeing Lucien nowhere, before gazing at the engravings on the door.

A woman. Dressed in strange clothes, holding a frail child in the crook of one arm, advancing upon four others at her feet. It glowed an eerie, ethereal red. I frowned. Similar, in ways, to the Nordic carving Falrung did when I was small - jagged lines, deep, imposing etchings. And yet so very different. Very gently I brushed a finger over the line's of the woman's dress, shivering.

"Beautiful. Is it not?"

I turned, narrowing my eyes at Lucien. "…In an odd way, yes."

"Perhaps, someday, I'll explain what it means to you."

"Wonderful." I rolled my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose as another swell of aching arose. "Can we go now?"

"Impatient, are we? Very well. Follow me." He moved past and opened the door, the red glow momentarily shadowing upon his face before he made his way down the dark hall beyond. I hesitated, but followed, trying to keep pace.

"What time is it?"

"Early. I would prefer to do this without too much attention."

"Fair enough." I glanced him over, biting my lip. He wore civilian clothes, now, instead of black robes. Dark pants, a crisp shirt, his hair tied in a knot. He could fit in, could easily just be another man at the market. I scowled, sticking my hands in the pockets of the robe. Which I suppose makes him all the more deadly.

I squinted under the glare of the early morning sun as we exited, shielding my eyes behind my hand. The air was cool and crisp, the grass still wet with dew. As the sun blindness faded, I watched my surroundings, slowing my pace. Cheydinhal. A pretty town - the whitewashed buildings with dark planks, the cobblestone paths, the rambling brooks and idyllic bridges over them. The chapel spires were silhouetted against the sky as we crossed a bridge, our footsteps thumping in unison on the wood.

"There." Lucien stopped, gaze fixed ahead. "Hrm. Abelle chose well enough. Pity it's near the chapel."

I followed his eye, and couldn't help giving a little gasp. It was beautiful. In truth it was little different from the other homes, but the creeping vines over the ivory wall, the planks of mahogany gleaming in the sun, the iron-wrought grate - it was beautiful and it was mine.

"Well?" Lucien raised a brow. I grinned and dashed forward as he scoffed. With an unceremonious delve into my purse and click of a lock I set foot in my home for the first time.

I was greeted by the familiar smell of a smoky hearth and spice, feet padding softly on the dark floor. Tangled strings of herbs hung on the mantle above the fireplace, white linen curtains blown by a gentle breeze through a parted window. Dim sunlight that streamed in made patches on the furniture, shadowing on the soft rug pinned beneath a cushioned chair. Slowly, I beamed. "It's perfect…"

"It's quaint." The Imperial frowned, a line of contempt rising between his mouth and cheek before he scoffed. "This is what you want, pet? A pretty little house with a copper kettle, a husband and children? And here I'd hoped perhaps you might be interesting."

I scowled. "You don't know a damn thing about what I want."

"Oh? Enlighten me."

"I've no intention of doing that." I narrowed my eyes, arms crossing. "Get out of my house." Gods, it feels good to say that. My house, and to him. I couldn't resist giving a little smug smile at his frown.

"So soon? As you wish." He strode easily across the room towards me. "But, there's something you should know." I drew back slightly as he leaned close, voice lowered to an ominous whisper. "You are free of the Sanctuary, but not of us. We are watching, pet." I stiffened when his hand settled on my arm, refusing to jerk away. "Every guard in this city serves the Count, and the Count is bridled by us. Should you try to run off to the nearest knight in shining armour you will find yourself sorely disappointed." He tilted his head, and smiled. "And should any little secrets manage to reach unwanted ears, it is not only you but your mother who will suffer the consequences. Am I understood?"

I grimaced, breathing a little sigh when he stepped away. "…Crystal."

"Good." His dark eyes crinkled with his smirk. "Do try not to disappoint, poppet."

I glared after the door when it closed behind him. Do try not to dirty my doorstep again, you utter…

"Bah." I turned away and let myself relax, smiling. "Gods, this is beautiful." And all mine. Better than a dresser and bed in the basement of the University. I winced at a sudden pang of memory and guilt. Tar-Meena must think I'm dead. I could write - but what would I tell her? Hello, sorry I can't come back, my mother's a murderer and I'm a sort-of hostage of the Dark Brotherhood?

I shook my head, gnawing my lip as I ascended the stairs. Is this what I want? My fingers crept on the balustrade and came back covered in a grey film. I gave a small smile.

Whatever I wanted, there was much to do.