While last chapter was Uvani's POV, this one will belong to Banus Alor. I'm planning to alternate it each chapter, so you get the story from both sides.

Unfortunately Enthralled – chapter two

He's become rather enamoured with Alval Uvani.

That's odd, because he doesn't really get attached to people. Certainly, he gets on with them well enough, but it never develops beyond that, and he's not yet been sad to see someone go – death or otherwise. Some would claim that makes him cold, emotionless, but he doesn't feel that way, just...distant. Separate from everyone else, somehow.

Maybe that's why he feels a certain kinship with Uvani; every time he has seen the Dunmer he has been alone, and he only seems to engage in conversation when he absolutely must. The other assassins aren't terribly happy about that, grumbling frequently when Alval is not present (silly, he thinks, because what will vindictive back-chat achieve?) They have tried encouraging him to join, but he will not – nor will he leap to the mer's defences, because he still doesn't know him too well, but he politely tells them he does not yet have a reason to complain.

And why should he moan about a trait he finds admirable? There is a certain strength that comes with being a lone wolf. He still remembers when he first entered the sanctuary, how everyone scurried to obey the Speaker in a mix of respect and fear. But Uvani stayed exactly where he was, he recalls, without so much as a change of expression. He was not afraid, he was not subservient, he was not about to move from his perfectly good chair for some man with a black robe and a fancy title. It makes him, in Banus' eyes, so much more than everyone else here.

That is, he reasons, why his gaze and thoughts keep drifting to the Dark Elf, why he keeps finding little things to do, like sweeping the floors or tidying away the books, that will let him stay around his new-found fascination. Because he just likes being near him, even though they haven't exchanged words since their introduction a week ago. He has an aura about him, a sense of pride and power that he can't help wanting to be close to. To admire someone so greatly after just a week...but then, a great deal has happened over seven days, from moving to the sanctuary he now calls home to his very first contract. Everyone asked him how it went, except Uvani, but he did not expect him to – and he has the sneaking suspicion that the Executioner already knows.

He is proven right.

Uvani is so immersed in his writing that he doesn't hear Banus approach, allowing the younger Dunmer a curious glance over his shoulder. On the paper is some sort of report, though concise and to the point, like Alval himself. As his eyes flick to and fro across the page, certain sentences jump out at him: 'adept at stealth', 'dagger as a last resort', and 'doesn't like to leave marks'.

He smiles, because it doesn't take a genius to know who is being discussed: "Are you writing about me?"

Uvani, who hadn't realised he was standing so close, tenses and covers the paper with his arm, but Banus has seen enough anyway. "And who gave you permission to read over my shoulder, underling?" he snaps at once.

It goes ignored; "So it was you following me, then?" he presses, not quite able to explain the happiness behind such a notion "I thought there was someone else there, but I couldn't be sure...you were there the whole time?"

"Fine. Yes, I was watching," the other answers irritably, "Not that it's any of your business. I can shadow you any time I want, Murderer. After all, someone has to make sure you don't screw up...again."

He tilts his head to one side, "You thought I screwed up? I didn't get arrested."

"You ended up using the dagger even though you hadn't intended to. And because of that, you spent an extra hour cleaning up when you should have just left. Anyone could have walked in and caught you."

"Perhaps, but I couldn't just leave him like that. There was so much blood..."

Uvani snorts and turns away, "If seeing blood scares you, you're in the wrong profession. In fact, a lot of people here think the messier, the better."

"I'm not scared of it, I'd just rather not see it," he half-protests, the adds: "What about you, Uvani? Do you like the sight of blood?"

"That's a morbid question. And also none of your concern. Why would you want to know something like that?"

"I'm curious about you. You're not like everyone else here."

Uvani pauses, but his back is still turned, so Banus can't read his facial expression. Eventually, he speaks: "Curiosity killed the mudcrab, Dunmer. But since you're brave and stupid enough to ask, I'll indulge you this once: I use Destruction magic. That leaves burns, not blood."

But of course, he already knew all that from the other assassins, and he's well aware that Alval has just tried to side-step the question. He really doesn't like giving information about himself away, but Banus isn't about to be tricked out of an answer: "But do you like seeing blood?"

"I don't care what they look like," Uvani replies sharply, "So long as they're dead. What does it matter how clean or carved up they are? They're still going in a hole in the ground."

"Okay then," he feels a certain satisfaction, because he's learned a little more about his superior, even if he had to pester him into saying it. And since Uvani seems to be marginally more agreeable than usual, perhaps... "Uvani?"

"What, Murderer?"

"Can I sit with you for a little while?"

"No you can not," he snaps, "Now go away before I use you as target practice, stupid boy. Go! Begone!"

He does not find himself disheartened, because he half-expected such an answer. Instead he gives a smile Uvani can't see, and inclines his head before departing.

He doesn't get to talk to Uvani again until the thunderstorm.

The worst Leyawiin has seen in years, the Master of the sanctuary tells them all, warning them to stay inside. Uvani ignores him, of course, strides out of the door with his nose in the air...strides back in thirty seconds later utterly drenched, and grudgingly admits that no-one will be leaving for a while. A few others titter at the state of him, but he ignores them and goes to find dry clothes, as proud and haughty as ever.

When supper-time comes around and the storm still hasn't let up, he's surprised when Uvani immediately volunteers for kitchen duty – and, as all the others are reluctant to spend any length of time with him, Banus steps forward to help. It makes him rather happy, because Alval never eats with them, always leaving the sanctuary to get his food at the local inn. He can only assume he does so to avoid kitchen duty, since he doesn't have to wash the dishes if he isn't eating from them. Maybe that is why he volunteered today, so the others cannot accuse him of not doing his bit. In any case, he is ushered into the kitchen with the other Dunmer, catching a few mutters questioning why he would willingly assist 'that arrogant fetcher'. Uvani says nothing, but immediately takes to peeling potatoes with such a ferocity that it is evident he heard every word.

Banus decides he does not like seeing the mer upset; "Just ignore them."

"I know," Alval replies agitatedly, de-skinning three potatoes in under a minute, "I've put up with it for years. I learned to ignore them a long time ago."

"I'm sure they don't mean any harm-"

"They do," he cut across him at once, "They do. Most of them would kill me in a second, if it didn't invoke the Wrath of Sithis. Hah!" there's a short bark of a laugh, more bitter than anything else, "Try to kill me, I meant. As if they would succeed. I could flash-fry them in the blink of an eye."

He doesn't really know what to say to that, so he doesn't say anything, instead busying himself with the pots and pans. "What should we make, then?" he asks in nonchalant conversation, "A stew? We have potatoes carrots, onions...there's some mutton in the cupboard too, I think. Or should we make something else?"

"I don't know. Or care," Uvani waves a hand carelessly, "Dithering about the kitchen isn't my speciality. You sort it out."

"Stew it is," he murmurs, gathering everything they'll need, "I know a good recipe...yes, I'm sure they'll like it."

A snort; "They should be grateful we're giving them anything at all."

We. It's such a simple little word, but there's something about hearing it from Uvani that makes it seem important. Maybe because he so rarely uses it, it's always I: 'I am this', 'I don't like that', 'I will set you alight if you don't stop bothering me'. Or it's you: 'you are annoying', 'you are trying my patience', 'you will have your lips frozen shut if you don't be quiet'.

But never we. Uvani simply doesn't affiliate himself with other people. It's such a stupid thing to be happy about – a stupid thing to notice in the first place, really – but he finds himself smiling regardless. He'd like to hear we more often.

"What's that dumb grin for?" Uvani interrupts his reverie, "You've always got a smile on your face for no reason whatsoever. You'll frighten people, walking around like that."

"I smile because I'm happy," he tilts his head to one side, "Does it unnerve you?"

"Of course not. I meant the idiots out there," he nods towards the kitchen door, and the rest of the sanctuary, "And anyway, I don't believe you. You smile far to much for it to be down to happiness. No-one can be happy all the time."

"I'm not. Just most of the time," he shrugs, and answers honestly: "I'm happy now, with you."

He could have sworn the Elf's cheeks tinted purple, but he isn't too sure, because 'Uvani' and 'blushing' are two words he would never put together. But he does recognise the slightly stunned look in the red eyes as Alval stares, and he stares back with an unfazed smile until the older Dunmer clears his throat and looks away.

"I don't know why you'd think that," he mutters, though it looks as though he's talking to the floor, "I'm told I'm not very good company. Frequently."

"And yet you refuse to change any aspect of yourself for the preferences of others?" he waits for Uvani to nod before continuing, "That is why I like being around you."

The other doesn't say anything. He doesn't need to. Banus turns, starts chopping onions, and after a minute or so Alval steps up beside him to help. There's silence as they work, both blinking away onion-induced tears, but he does not find the lack of conversation awkward or unsettling. It simply is, and he feels no need to speak until the stew is bubbling away over the fire.

"Uvani," he asks quietly, tentatively, "Can I sit with you at the table?"

He's expecting a rejection like last time, but to his surprise, gets: "Fine, fine, if it'll stop you pestering me. But don't get too close. And don't talk my ear off, I want to eat in peace."

It's all he can do not to beam: "Okay," he agrees, then adds, "It'll be nice, having you stay for supper. You go out, usually."

"I neither like nor trust everyone else enough to eat with them."

"Trust?"

"Why do you think I called kitchen duty? If I have to stay here, I'll at least make sure no-one tampers with my food."

Banus raises an eyebrow, amused, "Paranoid much?"

That earns him The Glare; "I have every reason to be."

"You've had your food spiked before?" Uvani doesn't answer, and Banus goes from amused to concerned in an instant, because a silence can speak volumes, "Uvani...?"

"I'll tell you some other time, maybe," Alval notices the troubled expression, "Don't look so worried, nothing bad happened. I just don't plan on discussing it with someone I've known less than a month. Honestly...and get rid of that solemn face, it doesn't suit you at all."

Back to his old, insult-everything-that-breathes self. Banus feels his lips curls upwards again, "Didn't you tell me off earlier for smiling too much...?"

"I prefer your stupid grin to your stupid frown. Now..." Alval observes him, squinting with such an intensity that he can't help but chuckle, "Better. At least you look like a happy idiot now."

And he's right, Banus does feel happy – because even if he put it bluntly, even if he would deny it to his grave, Uvani has just told him: I like to see you smile.