SERENDIPITY

CHAPTER THREE

LITTLE ANGEL

How long had it been since they left Cheydinhal? Four days? And yet Vicente's words still rung in Lucien's head every time he looked at Celeste. Was he really taken with her? He couldn't tell anymore.

There were so many reasons to love her. She was beautiful, and she was clever. She was full of life; everything was an adventure to her. In some ways, she was like a child. There was danger somewhere out there, but not right in front of her. The world was infinite and everyone in it was kind. How someone could not love Celeste Lylieve was incomprehensible.

"Lucien? Lucien, are you all right? You're awfully quiet."

Celeste stood before Lucien. For a moment, the fire behind her made her only a silhouette. Then, her face came into focus, and she smiled. She wore a dress (when Lucien had suggested that she wear something more flexible, she absolutely refused) that they had bought from a traveler on the road. It looked like something from Summerset Isle, made of loose, peach fabric and crossed over her chest with a gold clasp. In one hand she held a bottle of wine, and in the other two cups.

Celeste collapsed into the chair across from Lucien. She uncorked the wine and poured some for them both, then set the bottle aside. "So," she said. "where to next?"

Lucien was silent for a moment. He took a swig of his wine. "The Imperial City, I suppose." Celeste grinned. "Ooh, exciting." She sipped her drink and glanced around the little inn. It was one of the many on the Silver Road; they had beds and food for cheap, only because they got so many customers. Tonight they had quite the crowd.

Around the fire was a group of three burly Nord warriors, who all could have passed for half-giant. They were the loudest, laughing and eyeing the servant girls. A few merchants were scattered around the room, mostly fur and jewelry; they got the most business both on the road and in the city. The nobles were always looking for some exotic animal's pelt, or a fine, handcrafted necklet of elven make.

Two very pretty women were entertaining two very drunk mercenaries in the corner. A Khajiit and a Dunmer sat at the counter, not talking to each other or the barkeep. A serving girl on her break sat alone at one of the tables, and she kept shifting uncomfortably under the eye of an Imperial mage across the room. Finally, two bards were attempting to out-play each other while a Bosmer and an Orc watched with vague interest.

Lucien took this lull to study Celeste. Though they had not been on the road for long, her pale skin had already turned a light gold. Her blonde hair was unkempt, pulled to the side in a loose braid. A curl had sprung free, and hung just above her ear. A smattering of hidden freckles had appeared across the bridge of her nose and on her cheeks.

Absentmindedly, Lucien reached out and brushed the lock of hair behind her ear. He didn't even realize he had actually done it until Celeste looked over at him, something like shock on her face. "Hey," she said breathlessly. Lucien opened his mouth to reply.

A loud crash cut him off. Celeste flinched violently and jumped to her feet. The floor shook beneath them. One of the Nord men had fallen face first onto the stone hearth, bringing a bench down with him and shattering several bottles of mead. His friends helped him up, laughing all the while, and everyone else looked thoroughly shaken. Celeste turned to Lucien. She took his hand, knotting her fingers through his. Her voice was soft when she spoke. "Let's take a walk."

It was a warm night, though a cool breeze swept in from the north. There were a few wagons parked beside the inn, and save for that the road was deserted.

"You've been acting strange lately." Celeste said, crossing her arms over her chest as the wind blew. "You retreat into yourself whenever there's a silence, and it just feels like... I don't know. Like you're not all there."

"Ever since Cheydinhal, really." she continued. "Are you keeping something from me?" she asked, meeting his gaze. Her face was illuminated by the silver moonlight. She reached out and took his hand in hers. "You can tell me."

"I've only known you for a week, Celeste." Lucien said. "I know, but I feel like I've known you forever." she began, taking a step forward. "That's not what I meant."

Celeste's brow furrowed. She opened her mouth to speak, and Lucien began to cut her off, but something interrupted them yet again.

A shrill, bloodcurdling scream pierced the air. It was quickly cut off, leaving a deadly silence in its wake. Celeste set off at a near run in the direction of the sound after she had regained her senses, and Lucien followed.

He recognized the man at once; it was the Imperial wizard from the tavern. He had an uneasy feeling about the man the moment he laid eyes on him. And he was right - the man had pinned the serving girl he had been stalking against a tree on the roadside. One gloved hand covered her mouth, and the other fumbled with her skirts; her apron lay at her feet. She was crying.

Lucien had yet to see Celeste truly angry until that moment. With a strength he didn't know that she possessed, she pulled the man away from the girl, pulled back her arm, and punched him hard in the nose. Lucien saw the blood cascade down his face, over his mouth and his chin. He was silent, completely stunned, and Celeste hit him again.

Lucien rushed forward to intervene, for he thought Celeste might kill the man. By now, most of the inn had poured out onto the road. The three warriors were approaching. One of them easily and gently picked Celeste up and set her aside. Lucien's hand was still holding on tightly to her skirts, which he had been grasping to try to pull her away. Celeste, still fuming, jerked them out of his grip.

The shortest of the three, a red-bearded man carrying a battleaxe, slapped the mage on the side of the head. The Imperial fell over, unconscious. He was still bleeding profusely. The Nord proceeded to carry the man bridal-style back into the tavern. The serving girl was escorted inside, sobbing, by her friends and the barkeep. Eventually only Celeste and Lucien remained.

By now, Celeste's anger had faded to pure adrenaline. She was breathing heavily and her movements were quick. "Wow! I can't believe I did that!" she nearly yelled. "I could - I could punch a - a - that guy! I could take him on!" she exclaimed, punching the air and jumping around like an excited child, pointing at the tavern door. Lucien assumed she meant the red-haired man, though it was hard to tell as she wasn't making much sense. "I don't know why I would want to, though, he seems a nice man, but I could! How far away is the Imperial City?" she asked suddenly. "I could walk there right now, I don't need sleep!" she shouted. "Yeah!"

"No, no, no," Lucien said quickly, grabbing Celeste by the shoulders and pulling her back. She had started to walk away, in the completely opposite direction of the Imperial City. "That's the adrenaline talking, Celeste. Please don't try to punch that man, he will tear you in half."

"I feel great!" Celeste yelled, grabbing Lucien by the shoulders. "I know I don't drink often, but I want to get very, very drunk." she said, nodding vigourously. Most of her hair had fallen out of her braid and hung in a halo around her head. "Okay," Lucien said, not quite sure if he wanted to argue with her when she was like this. She grinned and shouted something incoherent, practically dragging him back inside.

The rest of the night proved to be just as interesting as the beginning. The adrenaline rush must have ended at some point, but by then Celeste was too drunk for it to make much of a difference. The three Nord men continued to buy rounds of drinks and they never quite seemed to get that drunk, though Celeste proved to be a lightweight. It was quite a show, honestly. Her words were barely intelligable, though the Nords still laughed at every pause. Lucien thought it might have been because they too were amused by Celeste, a perfect lady in most situations, stumbling and slurring and swearing like a sailor.

In the early hours of the morning, long after Lucien had given up and retired to his room, there was a knocking at the door. He shuffled across the room, still blinking sleep from his eyes. One of the men stood in the corridor with Celeste draped over his shoulder. He ducked through the doorway and laid her across the bed, bidding Lucien goodnight before he left.

Lucien stood for a moment, staring at Celeste in her dreamless, drunken slumber. He shook his head and adjusted her so that she was under the linens, then slipped in beside her. Just one more reason that Celeste Lylieve was impossible not to love.