"I suppose you wish to join me?"
Lucien glanced over, the fire casting long shadows below his cheekbones. Vicente moved from the doorway.
"Misery loves company."
A dry chuckle. "I suppose."
"Was that a confession, dear? What do you have to be miserable about?" Vicente pulled up a chair and set two mugs of something hot on the floor as he spoke, angling so they sat opposing in front of the roaring fire. The sanctuary was quiet this late.
"I don't quite know what you're talking about-"
"Don't give me that, Lucien, I walked this earth before your grandparents lived."
Lucien made eye contact, then, and Vicente noticed, perhaps from years walking amongst the most secretive of people, that his gaze seemed far away. "I fear a great change is coming."
"In regards to your little protégé, I presume? Coin is flowing, Lucien, and that is a change I can get behind." Vicente allowed himself to lean back, stretching long legs and wrapping his cloak tighter around his torso.
"And what if this change is not of the prosperous kind?" Lucien pushed, seemingly stressed. But when wasn't he? "What if it brings darkness… or death?"
"Then who are we to stand in the way of the Dread Father's plans?"
Lucien broke eye contact. A speaker silenced. He seemed to glare into the fire as a comfortable quiet blanketed the two.
Reaching out, Vicente gently pressed two fingers into Lucien's furrowed brow, causing him to relax on instinct. Then, with a gentleness he didn't know he was capable of, he brushed a stray grey back from the Speakers forehead. He seemed to have more every time Vicente saw him.
Getting older. Vicente ignored the way death seemed to become a less comforting thought the closer Lucien came to it. The Void was a thief.
Vicente couldn't think like that right now, instead focusing on the darkness under Lucien's eyes. "You've been losing sleep?" As much a statement as it was a question.
Lucien laughed again, "when have I not?"
"Mortals need rest, you know."
Lucien chuckled again, this time less strained. "Well aren't you just the scolding parent?"
Vicente allowed it, "I could always get Ocheeva?"
"By Sithis, no!" and wasn't his laugh the most beautiful sound? "I'll try! I promise."
They spoke through to the morning hours, until their drinks went cold and their voices slowed to that comfortable silence. Lucien had slumped slightly in his chair, a side of him no younger sibling had permission to see, and Vicente couldn't help but feel honoured, a painful feeling in his long silent heart.
"Valtieri?" Lucien said softly, his eyes drooping, eyelashes brushing cheekbones.
"I'll wake you if anything happens, Lucien. Sleep."
And, for once, Lucien allowed the stern tone. His breathing evened out, body no doubt appreciating the rest. Vicente pulled his cloak over him and, after a moment's hesitation, planted a kiss upon his tanned neck.
Vicente knew, perhaps for longer than he realised, that it would come to this.
The order to Purify the Sanctuary, the assassin, Listener , that couldn't go through with it.
"I got there as quick as I could, I promise ," they'd said, but the damage was done, Vicente just needed the words. "I tried to save him, Valtieri, but he wasn't…he wasn't Lucien anymore."
They'd brought his body back. For a proper funeral worthy of one in his position. He'd been wrapped in their cloak, bleeding and still.Vicente knew he shouldn't have but he'd pulled the fabric back.
It wasn't him. It couldn't be. Body all twisted and mangled, face contorted into this pain filled horror. He couldn't do it. He'd killed so many and yet this was the first time he'd found himself on his knees, praying to God he didn't believe in, hoping some divine entity would have pity on sinners like them.
A speaker, silenced.
"He didn't want to live," the Listener tried gravely, "a life after that humiliation is no life at all. We must respect the Dread Fathers' plans."
Vicente ignored them, placed a nightshade on the soil. It was raining, and the sanctuary had quietly dispersed after laying offerings.
The Void was a thief.
Vicente lived on.