Chapter three! As we had Banus last time, this section of the story will go back to Uvani's POV.
Unfortunately Enthralled – chapter three
Banus turns out to be one of those extraordinarily rare people – besides the Speaker and a select few others – that Uvani actually gets along with.
And so roughly a month down the line, he invites him in his least inviting tone to have lunch with him, and tries not to look too happy when the other Dunmer accepts. It's not a date or anything, he's just doing it because Banus deserves better than those insufferable sanctuary simpletons, especially with the little whispers that have started up since he began spending more time with Uvani. Of course, he doesn't tell Banus this – he refuses to give the impression that he's going soft – and so instead brusquely informs him: You're marginally more tolerable than the others.
He's far more tolerable. In fact, he's probably the most tolerable person Uvani has ever come across, with his softly-spoken words and never-ending smile that, to Alval's amusement, is starting to unnerve the rest of the sanctuary. There is something frightening about a person who can kill in cold blood and yet still smile so serenely all the time, but he is not so easily rattled, unlike those pathetic assassins. Besides, he has become accustomed to the Dark Elf's eerily calm manner, in the same way that Banus is used to his bluntness and tendency to turn every sentence into an insult.
"This place is nice," Banus remarks as they eat in the Five Claws lodge, tucked away in a discreet corner where no-one can overhear them, "Cleaner that I'd expected. Quiet too. You come here every day?"
He nods; "Better than eating with those fetchers, right?"
"An extra expense, though..."
"Worth every septim," Conversation falls quiet, and he can't help but notice Alor aimlessly twiddling with his fork, "What's the matter?"
"It's nothing. Really."
That earns him a curt: "Don't be stupid. Something's bothering you, and you'll gain nothing by holding it back. Out with it."
"It's just..." he sighs, puts down the fork, "Did the others really poison your food? And that's why you eat here?"
"You still remember that?" he can only just recall that discussion in the kitchen, since he forgot about it soon after – and had assumed Banus did the same. Though it does explain why he has frequently caught the Murderer looking so troubled over the past month. "If I had known it would bother you so much, I wouldn't have mentioned it."
"It shocked me a little," Banus admits, "I know they don't particularly like you, but to actually poison your food..."
"Idiot," the sharp, stern tone makes him look up and see Uvani frowning at him, "I haven't even told you what happened and you're already jumping to conclusions. You should be laughing, not getting upset over it."
Banus pauses, puzzled, "Laughing?"
"Hmph. I suppose I might as well tell you. It'll cheer you up, if nothing else," he leans forward, gestures for Banus to do the same so they can converse in low, hushed tones, "First off, nothing was poisoned. You can't kill someone with a Drain Fatigue potion. The intent was to humiliate, not harm."
He looks even more worried than before, "What did they do to you?"
"Nothing, stupid boy. Let me finish," he waves a hand dismissively, "I overheard their little scheme, took as many Fortify Fatigue potions as I could before eating – the addition barely affected me. But of course it was more fun to let them think otherwise..."
He's pleased to the note Banus' reaction to this, concerned expression melting away into eagerness, like a child being told a wondrous story, "Go on."
"So after complaining of tiredness and going to lie down, I watched them come in with a pot of paint each; they had intended for me to wake up human-coloured," Uvani gives a snort, "So I let them gloat a while, and just as they were about to start – the best Drain Fatigue spell you've ever seen. Tied them up when they were still reeling, stripped their clothes, and then revealed my own freshly-bought supply of-" he pauses, looking as deviously smug as Banus is ever likely to see him, "-Blue paint."
Banus laughs, musical and thoroughly delighted, "You painted them like Dunmer?"
"Head to toe, every last one of them. Best of all, they had timed it for the Speaker's visit so I would be further humiliated, but the tables were turned."
"Speaker didn't get angry with you?"
"Angry? He thought it was hilarious, especially when the irony of the situation was explained. I even got promoted for it – which those fetchers weren't too happy about, as you can imagine."
"But you did best them," Banus points out, "They wouldn't try spiking your food again after being humiliated like that, surely. So why inconvenience yourself like this for every meal?"
Uvani shakes his head; "Thick people never learn. One of them would try something eventually, and next time I might not be around to overhear. It's safer this way. Besides..." he gives a quiet but scornful sound, "It's no inconvenience. I eat here because I want to, not because I'm afraid or in any way traumatised, understood?"
Alor looks down at the table sheepishly, "I thought something bad had happened to you. The way you refused to speak of it..."
"I didn't tell you because I barely knew you," Alval informs him, "It's a fond memory. I only share those with people I like."
He doesn't think he's ever seen Banus smile so brightly before.
Not long after this, the rumours start.
He supposes he shouldn't be surprised. Malicious little brats, always looking for ways to hurt him – but he can brush off their words, so instead they badmouth the one person who doesn't deserve it. They don't bother keeping their voices down, and Banus hears every word, but he dutifully ignores it and keeps his head held high.
Jealousy has a lot to do with it, he reckons, because not even three months in and Alor has already been promoted twice, now at the rank of Eliminator. The Black Hand are apparently rather intrigued by his killing style and the message it leaves – that the Dark Brotherhood can not merely assassinate, but do so with not a mark left, no trace of injury or struggle. It shows that they can murder at a leisurely pace and still not get caught. Something that completely sails over the heads of those other sanctuary morons, most of them still flailing at Slayer rank with their crude, unrefined executions and frequently botched jobs. It's no miracle that Banus soon outstrips them, but it only feeds the fires of their envy.
And the other reason...quite simply, being affiliated with Uvani. That bothers him far more than their taunts ever could, because their grudge is with him, not the people he associates with. Banus may converse with him, eat with him, spend more time with him than he does the rest of the sanctuary – but he's always remained civil to them, never made any enemies nor acted unfriendly on Uvani's behalf. He should be kept out of this ridiculous vendetta, but simply by not playing the lapdog ally, he has become their enemy instead.
In any case, their antagonism drives Banus further away, further towards Uvani. That would normally irk him, so when he one day looks at the other Dunmer and realises he actually likes his company, it's a surprise even to him. Then again, there's really nothing to dislike – his tepid quiescence and apparent inability to feel anything beyond mild emotion may be perceived flaws by some, but not Alval, because the last thing he wants is a loud, obnoxious, and overly sentimental fool following him around. Banus may have become his shadow, but at least he acts like one as well by staying quiet and non-disruptive.
Uvani repays the favour sometimes, secretly and silently observing the boy during his contracts. It never ceases to intrigue him, because even after three months, even after he has done enough to be promoted to Eliminator, Alor still doesn't seem like a killer. So he waits, watches him tenderly smother the life out of some ill-fated person and wonders why he can't get his head around the paradox. It still irritates a part of him that Banus doesn't just get on with it, kill the target and leave; but at the same time, there is something about the time and effort the mer puts into how his victims will be found that he finds utterly fascinating.
The problem with such a slow and laborious process, however, is that one soon gets caught.
He isn't supposed to intervene. Banus doesn't even know he's there, and he's supposed to let the assassin fend for himself instead of risking his own safety. But then, it isn't a guard – it's a friend of the already-deceased Skooma dealer, woken by the muffled cries and armoured with a wickedly sharp claymore. Even though he never uses it, Banus still carries his dagger, but it's no match against a weapon like that.
Alval watches from the shadows unsurely. He isn't supposed to step in, no matter how cornered his associate is. That is the harsh, unapologetic way of the Brotherhood, and yet – and yet it isn't a guard, nor is one nearby, so he won't incur a bounty. It may be a rule but it isn't actually one of the five tenets, and no-one actually needs to know he helped Banus just this once, and-
There is a strangled cry from the voice he knows so well, and Alor is pinned to the wall with brutal hands clamped around his slender throat. The claymore is stained with red, so is Banus' side, and Uvani stops thinking, just acts. One shock spell and the attacker flies back, crumples into a heap on the floor – still twitching, still convulsing, already dead.
Banus, several shades paler than usual, looks at the still chameleon-shrouded form before him, realises who came to his aid, who has been there the entire time. He gives a weak, strained smile.
Then collapses.
And never does hear Uvani's panicked cry.