So here is another chapter, finally! I'm getting ready to move into my first house, so the update has been a bit delayed in coming, but I hope that the length makes up for that. I personally really like this chapter, but let me know what you think, pointers, the usual, etc.

_______________________

Chapter 19:

Arelius stared down at the body with its open throat and glazed eyes, his vision sweeping over the wreaked human life that lay a minute's walk from his home. The guard's helmet had fallen loose in the attack, and it sat several feet away where it had rolled, a few specks of blood marring the inside, but it was the sword that drew the most attention, for it remained in its scabbard. The man had not drawn his weapon, so either he'd been caught by surprise, or his opponent had been much too fast for him to handle. Either way, it was not a good start to the day.

"How long ago?" Arelius asked. Several guards were preparing a stretcher to remove the body while others kept curious citizens away from the crime scene.

"Late evening, early morning," one suggested. "He's been there a while."

"And no one saw anything?"

"People heard the guard yelling at someone, but other than that, I'm afraid that we've got nothing," a new voice chimed in, and Arelius turned to see a captain of the watch approaching him. The man's distinct armor shone in the sunlight of early morning as he reached out and shook Arelius's hand. "Arelius," he greeted.

"Sevor," the blade returned. "What happened?"

"We were watching the house as you requested, and one of my men thought that he saw someone. We heard him warn that there were multiple attackers, but then he was dead, and we haven't found a damn trace of his killers. I'm sorry. Your wife was be in an awful state."

"She'll manage," Arelius stated, eyes flickering toward the dead body as it was lifted from the ground. "I'm sorry for the loss of your man. He was young."

"And should have waited for backup before confronting the suspects. I warned him about the possible danger, but the youngest ones have the most to prove." The man shook his head with a sigh. "I hate to lose even one, but that's the life of a captain, as you know." Arelius briefly imagined Portia with her wide eyes and stuttering mouth as she tried to explain her unintentional bloodshed. The man that she'd killed had looked as young as this victim.

"Are you launching an investigation?" he asked the other captain.

"Of course. I'm here to question the locals. Hopefully someone saw something. If not, this could be a very trying task, but I suppose that you'll also be making inquiries..."

"I won't step on your toes," Arelius assured. "But I will use my resources."

"And I'll keep you informed. Give my regard to your wife." Arelius agreed and returned to his home to find Lucretia waiting in the foyer, her arms crossed over her delicate chest as she chided the children for running through the house. She looked calm as ever, but the messy state of her hair was enough to betray her haste that morning, and the entire house was on edge because of it. Being a woman of pride, she would fix her image before more of the servants arrived, but for now she merely allowed Arelius to pull her into a hug.

"I suppose that the watch gave you their usual promises," she smartly commented.

"They'll do their best, but we won't rely on them if that's what has you concerned," Arelius offered.

"I'm not worried," Lucretia sniffed. "I've already had the window locks checked, and the servants will get a talking to when they arrive. No one will enter or leave this house without my permission." Arelius released her, not wishing to extend more comfort than was wanted, and allowed Lucretia to continue with her tasks. He followed behind her as she ordered about the servants, her control quickly solidifying into the usual, rolling ease of daily life, and her hands unconsciously moving to fix her hair.

"The children are being sent to their grandmother's for a few days," she told Arelius. "I think it prudent, unless you've some objection."

"I'll kiss them before they leave then," he agreed with her. Indeed, he would feel much better knowing that the children were out of harm's way. "I'll have Tamil escort them once they're packed." Lucretia nodded and turned her attention to the courtyard where her two boys were busy chasing each other with sticks. They looked so much like their father... "Dear," Arelius soothed. "I'm leaving. Watch the house, and try not to worry too much." But that was easier said than done, for neither of them believed for a moment that the guard's death had been a random murder.

************

Portia stood in the aisle, her eyes scanning the massive bookshelf before her as she searched for another tome on the daedric language. She'd come across several difficult words in her usual studies, and her hopes of understanding them were pinned on finding an older book with detailed definitions, but so far, she'd found nothing in the palace library's extensive collection. And what a collection it was. There were books here that hadn't been opened in what she suspected were era's, and some only remained whole thanks to the magical care of archivists. Her fingers touched a worn spine as she tried to read the book's title, but the lettering had largely disintegrated.

"Damn books," she grumbled, moving further down the aisle. She could always ask for assistance, but she didn't want the librarians to know what she was researching, for daedric studies in light of the current political situation was extremely unpopular, and she was no scholar to have an excuse for reading on such topics. Of course, she'd admitted her interest at the dinner party, but hopefully the incident had been forgotten amidst the tipsy state of most guests by the evening's end. The only one that hadn't disapproved of her words was Cassius, and that he too found a dark topic interesting did not surprise her in the least given the man's nature. She could still imagine the bloodlust in his eyes from the day of their sparing, which had been clue enough, but during the party, he had almost been gentle with her. True, his words had been a bit morbid, but the soft and probing quality of his touch had made her allow his fingers on her neck, and the tips had traveled oh so tantalizingly across her skin.

Focus. She was investigating Cassius and Horace, and just because that meant spending time with them didn't mean that she should allow Cassius such liberties. No one touched her without permission, so the fact that intimacy had been implied through his actions annoyed her, and not only because of the party's gossiping eyes. That was merely the icing on the cake, for his physical closeness had been inappropriately bold considering how little they knew of each other, and proper decorum stood against such actions, leaving other guests to speculate. It wasn't that Portia believed in strict social dogma, but she was playing a role that put her in a position where negative rumors could potentially harm her standing, and a dirty image was not something that she would appreciate.

Beyond that, the entire 'let's take a walk' scenario puzzled Portia, for Cassius didn't behave in such an eager and interested manner with others. In fact, he seemed to keep his distance from most people, yet the way that he engaged her suggested a strong acquaintance, for only familiar people would accompany one another into a garden late at night, or make flippant and sometimes questionable comments. Denying Cassius would have been the proper move, but Portia wished to worm her way into his world for investigative purposes, for she could spot a shady character when she saw one, and Cassius could not possibly be innocent. So she had gone with the diplomat, but she wondered if she had unwittingly sent him the wrong message in doing so.

That's part of the game, she consoled herself, but it didn't mute the irritation concerning her lack of control over the situation. It wasn't that she felt helpless, but Cassius forever seemed to catch her off guard, and she had enough to handle without his surprises. After all, Mehrunes, the damned prince of Oblivion, was somewhere in this city, hunting her. That was the core of her issues as of late, and she'd been meaning to investigate the matter further—perhaps split from her body again in an attempt to discover his exact location, but the task was a daunting one. She hadn't dared to mindlessly sleep since she'd seen him in his new bedroom, for she couldn't risk discovery--not that Mehrunes knew who the 'being' was, but if he found out, she might as well jump from the city walls.

Stop being weak, she chided herself, growing more annoyed as she realized that finding the desired daedric book would be nearly impossible. Perhaps Gilthan could help, but she didn't want to drag him into suspicion at the university, and she felt that her work needed consistency and true dedication to warrant such an action. Currently, she'd been so preoccupied with Blade business that she'd hardly touched a book in days, but she had never quit her studies since language was necessary for spying. Subterfuge was still the plan, but one to be implemented only after she carefully explored her newest ties to Mehrunes, which was a day that fast approached. She actually thought that she was becoming quite adept at daedric, for the more she read, the easier it became, and now she was slowly recalling words that she'd seen in Mehrunes' palace.

Grabbing one of the library's rolling ladders, Portia propped it against a shelf and began climbing it, one rung at a time, hands periodically reaching out to examine a book. There was actually a book on dremora culture, and she wondered how much of the text had been fabricated since no human had ever studied dremora in their homeland. Perhaps she would check into that at some later date, but the thought fazed out as a creeping sensation slithered up her spine, causing her head to instinctually turn left. She frowned and recognized this feeling from before—from dinner—when she could have sworn that she'd felt a faint pull as the last guests were arriving.

"This is the section here, sir," a librarian explained, and Portia watched as two people stepped into her aisle. Cassius, she realized, eyes zeroing in on the smartly dressed diplomat. He appeared genuinely surprised to see her on the ladder, but his features quickly rearranged into a smirk as she gripped the ladder for stability. Well, it was her job to get closer to the man, but why did he need to appear everywhere that she happened to be? She wasn't sure if fortune or misery were smiling on her as she began descending to the floor, wondering what today would bring.

**************

It was his lucky day.

Mehrunes nearly grinned in unexpected delight as he realized who was sharing the aisle with him. The librarian was quickly dismissed, and rudely at that, but the prince could have cared less as he strode forward with every intent of enjoying his afternoon. After all, his servants were busy with their respective tasks, and that left him time to examine the palace's book collection on Oblivion and daedra, which was partly Portia's influence, for she'd sparked his curiosity when mentioning her readings. What did mortals write about his kind? Hopefully it would be utter rubbish and make his digression worthwhile through laughable ideas.

"What an unexpected surprise," he greeted Portia, who was now on the floor, her green eyes hitting him with the acuteness that he'd come to expect from his intelligent opponent. As always, it was difficult not to hint at his identity in order to taunt her, but he would keep himself under control, Ruined Cloak's warnings running through his head. He did not take orders from others, but the mage had a point in stressing discretion, and Horace backed up that emphasis, especially given the time clock that they were under. The time to destroy this lovely woman would come soon enough...

"What brings you to the library, Cassius?" Portia asked while tossing her thick braid over a shoulder.

"You made the collection on Oblivion sound fascinating," Mehrunes replied, hands behind his back as he carelessly glanced over the books. He had planned to look through a few, but he wasn't much of a reader when it came down to it, so his interest was quickly diverted to Portia. "I came to see its quality for myself." And found something much better, he added with a heavy dose of twisted pleasure.

"I'm afraid that I've already taken the best books," Portia half-smiled. "I was hoping that I could find an older dictionary, but no such luck."

"Dictionary?" Mehrunes questioned, curious as to her reasons for needing one. She couldn't possibly be learning daedric. He couldn't remember the last time that he'd met a mortal who understood his language, but then again, this woman had shocked him before.

"Yes," Portia sighed. "I need a dictionary. I mean, I have one, but it's missing certain words, and so the passage that I'm reading has me stumped. It would be easier if I knew someone with language skills, but I have yet to meet one."

"What language is the book in?" Mehrunes asked.

"Daedric," Portia answered, obviously weighing her words. She was waiting for his reaction, and he knew it, but he only tilted his head to the side and smirked. So she was learning his language, and what was the purpose behind doing that? He could ask, and he would, but he was certain that the answer would only be a half-truth or even possibly a lie.

"Why are you learning daedric?" She smiled disarmingly, hands on her hips.

"I'm sure that you find it odd, or perhaps you don't," she quickly corrected. "I don't think that you'll condemn me like others would. You are in this aisle." Her smile could have been forced, but he had a hard time telling, and not for the first time, he had the urge to grab her feminine form and force her to speak the plain truth. He was not accustomed to having to talk and carefully pry information from someone like this, even if he was finding a flare for it. "Like I said before," she continued, "I find the topic interesting, and I've been to daedric ruins before. Actually being able to read what's on those walls would be great, and there are the books to consider. The best books here are written in daedric and several hundred years old..."

"Merot ke mnom?" Mehrunes asked with a smile, causing Portia's eyes to momentarily widen in shock, and how he reveled in her loss for words. He stepped closer to her with insufferably smugness as she stared at him, her clothing slightly disheveled by the day's sword lessons, but the unkept edge suiting her.

"Merot ke namnom," she replied, returning to her controlled expression. "It is not difficult," she then repeated in common tongue. "So you also speak daedric." Her pronunciation was beautiful, and her recovery quick, making Mehrunes particularly pleased as he listened to the daedric syllables flow from her mouth. It felt like months since he'd spoken in his favored tongue, and hearing it from her was...mesmerizing. He couldn't explain why her words affected him so, perhaps even exciting him a bit as he considered her dedication to her quest. She had decided to battle him, and unlike so many others, she was learning everything that there was to her opponent.

"Yes, I speak daedric. I'm an unprofessional scholar of sorts," he told her. "And Morrowind has more daedric ruins than Cryodiil, making the language advantageous to know. I'm impressed that you're teaching yourself. Not many possess that dedication. Vinro begat machta."

"I'm impressive?" Portia genuinely smiled. "And you said that you and Horace have little in common."

"Hmpf," Mehrunes scoffed, disliking the comparison to that weasel. "Perhaps I can help you with this passage of yours," he then offered, forgetting about the chaos sphere for the time being. He couldn't sense it on her now—although a slight pull was making him crave close proximity to her, but he attributed that to his budding fixation with this female ex-guard and her interesting past. She did not seem like someone to be bothered by accidental murder, but Ruined Cloak had assured him that his last victim spoke the truth...

"I have the book over here," Portia told him, leading the way toward the loft. Mehrunes' vision drank in her appearance as she walked with the sure stride of a hunter, and he was sure that such a comparison was appropriate given her prior hand-to-hand attack on him in Oblivion. If she looked closely, she might notice that his left ear was scarred, even in this form, for she'd marred him by ripping free his earring. Of course, magic could have mended the wound, but he would have none of that. He was no longer ashamed to bear an injury from a human thief now that he'd met her and witnessed her survival drive. Wounds from worthy enemies were nothing to be regretted or hidden.

"This is where I usually work," she told him as they ascended several stairs into a small room where plush chairs sat around a small table. The room was vacant except for a stack of books beside one chair, where Portia deposited herself and pulled open a large tome. It completely covered her lap as she found her marked place and set it on the table, bending forward to pour over its contents. "Here," she indicated, and Mehrunes pulled up a chair to sit directly beside her. "This line is giving me a headache."

"Read it to me," Mehrunes requested, reclining and watching as she pulled the book back onto her lap. "It will be easier than both of us trying to read at once." And I want to hear you speak daedric. Mehrunes allowed his head to lull to the side in relaxation as Portia began speaking, her words molding over him until he decided that daedric from her was far more becoming than when his minions spoke it. They were rough, guttural, and abrupt in manner and speech, but she gave the language the roll and lightness of a human tongue. It had been a long time since he'd heard daedric in such gentle tones, and even Nocturnal couldn't spin the words with such a soothing touch, which was saying something since she'd once read him stories in order to calm his anger. That had been when he was much younger. They'd all been younger and had shared a plane instead of creating their own realms. So very long ago...

"Cassius?" Portia questioned, having ended the paragraph.

"Keep going," he ordered, and although she frowned at his commanding tone, her voice soon filled the air, causing his eyelids to sink lower in contentment. He silently encouraged her for some time before her speech hitched, causing him to glance at her in question. Her finger was on the page, and those pink lips of hers were turned downward ever so slightly, revealing her displeasure as she puzzled over a word.

"Grimloc..." she breathed, pondering.

"It's a large lava flow running near...it's a lava flow," Mehrunes confided, almost revealing more than he'd intended. Portia was watching him with searching emeralds beneath black lashes, and it almost made him smirk, for she suspected that his words were important, but she could not find the damning piece of the puzzle that would make the picture clear to her. Oh, she was smart, but if she didn't completely trust him, which he felt was evident from her behavior and an appropriate response to his persona, then why did she never try to avoid him? She had been working for someone when she came to Oblivion—perhaps the Blades, and maybe she still was. Oh, the possibilities...but he couldn't have her pushing him away, and so he distracted her by explaining all that she had read, to which she quietly and politely listened, the book still open on her lap.

"That's very helpful," she thanked him, and the warmth in her voice made Mehrunes question just how suspicious she was, for she was skilled at looking calm and collected. The uncertainty of this game never failed to keep him engaged. "If you have nowhere else to be, there was another section that was giving me problems," she continued with an inviting expression. She wanted him to stay, and Mehrunes wouldn't disappoint her, although in the back of his mind, he was wondering if she would agree to spar with him after this. Nothing would uplift his day more unless Horace found information on the chaos sphere, and even then, he'd prefer to hear a report later and spend his current time with this woman.

"I'm glad that I can be of use," he told Portia with a slight smile. "Please continue." She went back to reading aloud, and this time Mehrunes decided to indulge himself a little more than usual. With daedric in the background, and in such a lovely manner, he opened his mind to Oblivion, which he had not yet done due to the possibility of someone detecting the connection, but who would detect him? At first, he had thought that the mages might, but now that he was here in Tamriel, they seemed harmless enough, and he was in the library, not Horace's house, so being tracked wouldn't be an issue. That settled the matter, and so his power began to subtly flow and pump through his veins with the aid of his chaos sphere, his mind brushing across his dominion.

The connection was slight, and it only allowed him to feel the heat and familiarity of his homeland, but the energy pulse thrilled him. He had been restraining himself since coming here, but now, in this setting, he was suddenly tempted beyond control, his hands clenched together on his lap as the the hum of chaos purred deep within his chest. Oblivion. Chaos. It was here, in his hands, reminding him of his hold over the world and its mortals, even as the call of the Deadlands beckoned him to leave this lesser plane for home. He already felt as if he'd been surrounded by common tongue for too long.

"Adno lec..." Portia's voice trailed off, but Mehrunes did not immediately notice. Only when he readied himself for another pulse of energy did her hanging silence strike him, and he might have dismissed it as nothing had it not been for the woman's expression. Her mouth was halfway open, and her eyes went wide in shock before they glazed over, making her appear totally lost to the world. Her entire body was rigid, and her hands gripped the book's edges with such force that he was sure she'd tear a few pages loose.

He did not understand her sudden change in mood and posture, but so enthralled was he with his own power that he wouldn't break his charged state in order to check on her. He wasn't ready to return to a weaker existence, and so he summoned that second wave of energy, the air around him warming with the effort, and his mental pathway to Oblivion widening. This was what he loved about being a daedric prince, and he regarded flashes of his kingdom with pride as he reveled in his own abilities, but what he found as his energy throbbed through him with increasing strength disturbed him. He was not alone, and the longer he channeled power, the more evident that became, for a presence materialized from within the folds of space and nearly collided with him, unseen soft hands pushing off of his chest to avoid closer contact. He could feel that damned being brushing across his mind, trembling in worry and uncertainty as his power enveloped them both.

What was happening? Mehrunes didn't even finish his thought as the being began pulling away, fighting him with all of its strength, but its power was miniscule compared to his own, and so he chased it with tendrils of energy. As his will bent around the spectral, he felt its anger and panic over the intrusion, which made him grin in anticipation of victory. Their connection was as strong as ever, and he could even feel the direction that the being was going, causing his head to jerk in that direction only to find his gaze locked on Portia. The being was moving by her—no, not beyond her, but into her. Mehrunes' eyes widened in stunned realization as the woman leaned further into her chair, sweat trickling down her brow as her eyelids drooped and the book fell from her grasp.

"No..." her words were a barely uttered plea that quickly turned into an angry growl and frown of determination as she fought him, but she didn't know that it was him, or did she? Should he let her know? It was tempting, but no, he couldn't do that—not yet. He released his power and watched as Portia jerked so sharply in freedom that she nearly fell from her chair. Maybe it was too late. Maybe she'd followed the energy back to its source just as he had, but perhaps...

"Cassius?" Portia called, unsure of herself as she straightened in her seat. He stood before her, a hand braced beneath her chin and tilting her head up toward him. He wanted to catch the last glimpse of the fire leaving her body, for while he was not a great admiring of mortals, there was an undeniable beauty to this already attractive woman when she was riled. It was the same quality that had so impressed his mind when she'd wounded him. "I'm sorry," she apologized, a bit dazed. "I don't know what happened. I just...I don't feel well." So she hadn't been able to trace him. That was a relief.

"It's alright," he crooned, still touching her face until she lifted a hand and gently removed his fingers, a spark in her eyes telling him that he'd breached some invisible barrier. "I could help you get home, my lady."

"No," Portia protested. "I'll be fine. I don't know what came over me, but it's gone now." Mehrunes tried to help her stand, but she waved him off and retrieved her fallen book rather than meeting his intense gaze. It was beneath a prince to help a human stand, but he'd tried, and she'd shunned his aid in reply, which did not sit well with him. How dare this mortal...

"I insist that you allow me to help you," Mehrunes pressed, hating every moment of being brushed aside. No one brushed aside the lord of Oblivion.

"I..."

"No," he roughly opposed. "Here; take my arm." She reluctantly did so, her body still clearly unstable and Mehrunes lightly supporting her. The idea of her dependency on him was strangely intoxicating as he led her toward the library's exit, and beyond that, he dared to send small shots of chaotic energy into her body, teasing her with the dread of her spirit being called again.

So this was the spirit that had been haunting him, but why? Why would she seek him out? He could remember her trailing him, even touching him, defying him, searching the palace and testing his patience, growing more confident with time...but why? And how? He tried not to stare at her as they walked, but he had a feeling that his blatant curiosity was showing, even if she didn't say anything. Perhaps she was too shaken to care, but already he felt her strength returning, for she was leaning on him less and less.

This is the being, his mind repeated, and leave it to this thief to make his existence more and more complicated. So she had followed and challenged him; that shouldn't have shocked him, for he'd considered a possibly link between thief and spirit before, but discovering that his contemplations were reality was still having an effect. After all, hadn't he grown comfortable with that being? Even inviting it to get closer in his boredom, taunting it in good fun as it laid beneath him while he chose clothing? That was why Portia had felt so familiar during the dance, and that was why he was more at ease with her than he'd expected given her theft. He'd been hunting a thief that had secretly been beneath his nose the entire time! With a mixture of appreciation and loathing, he realized that her hand was pulling away from his arm.

"Thank you for your help, Cassius," she told him. "Until next time."

"If you ever desire help with your daedric, let me know," he absently replied. She left him standing in the street, and he didn't even attempt to follow her. He merely watched her braided hair vanish among the people, his mind furiously working. Now that he knew of their connection, perhaps he could exploit that.

***********

Portia was cleaning the wound on her hip, for the scar had torn loose while at the library, when that unnaturally tenacious power had sucked her out of her own body. She'd felt her consciousness loosening and someone hungrily dragging her away, subtly at first, but once she'd been detected, the tug-of-war had begun in earnest. Cassius probably thought that she was either mentally or physically sick, which would not work in her favor since he seemed to prize strength, and she hadn't even gained anything from the event.

With frustration, she nearly slammed her bundle of dirty bandages on the floor, the pain of her wound and the annoyance of being forcefully summoned bearing down on her mind. She hadn't even been able to track the power source, and what a fooled she'd been to miss the opportunity. The entire goal of still working on daedric and wearing the sphere was to find Mehrunes, not frantically flee from him when he reached out toward her spirit form. After all, he didn't know who the spirit was, and she was dependent on his mood and some whimsical, chaotic power to open their connection. So now she had to somehow sleep when she was irked and troubled, and hope that he tried to call her. The night was looking worse and worse, and all because she had forgotten her mission when she most needed to remember it.

But Cassius was there...no, no excuses, Portia!

Now that was the blade in her talking, and it made her smile humorlessly as she realized how easily she was sliding back into her old role. She'd come so far that the man she'd murdered barely came to mind when she touched her sword, but sometimes, when the scabbard hit her hip just right, the pain jolted dark memories to life. He'd never be gone, but perhaps she could ignore him most of the time.

With a sigh, Portia pulled the blankets over her stomach and blew out the candle on her nightstand, marveling at how her afternoon had actually been rather enjoyable considering the company. She had found Cassius to be an attentive listener, and his language help had been invaluable. Of course, she wondered where he'd learned daedric, but he seemed like a man to seek such knowledge if only to scandalize others. Yes, he liked to push the boundaries, even with a lone woman, for she clearly remembered how readily he had accompanied her into a quiet, private corner of the library. She also remembered how she had questioned her decision while at the same time wanting to be alone with him to see if she couldn't garner information from him. What she'd discovered was that he had a gentler side—one that led him to almost doze while listening to a lady read. It had been unexpected to say the least, and not objectionable until he'd decided to touch her, which wouldn't have been so upsetting except for the way that he had seemed to be looking into her very soul.

But the dark diplomat could wait until tomorrow.

Portia's eyes closed, and her breathing evened out as she tried to sleep. She found herself focusing on the sphere, a light charge awakening at her will, and with that small spark, she dove into darkness. She could not say how she found her way, but the decision was quickly stripped from her as a more powerful force captured her own. It was him, and given how strongly his vibes rocked her sleeping consciousness, she had to wonder if he'd been prowling and waiting for her. Well, it was now or never, for the longer he remained in the capitol undetected, the greater the danger to herself. Braving this was no longer optional after the incident at the library, and so she didn't fight his pull. In fact, she ran toward it, hoping to catch him off guard and appear more confident than she was. Whether or not it was working, she was swept away in an almost terrifying frenzy of power that she was not sure she could escape even if she'd sought to.

No turning back.

Portia opened her spirit eyes and stepped forward, her hand not even hesitating as she pushed through a set of doors and into the bedroom that she had seen before. She immediately moved toward the window, remembering Gilthan's advice, and not bothering to look for Mehrunes. He was here somewhere, she was sure, and once he pinpointed her, she might lose her opportunity. Hopefully he was as arrogant as always, for then he wouldn't try to stop her spying...

"Being," a voice rumbled, and she kept moving forward, but suddenly a man stepped into her path of direction, and looking up, she found herself face-to-face with Mehrunes Dagon, although he still appeared more human than in Oblivion. "I don't like late night visitors," he told her, obsidian eyes grinding into her with such force that she questioned her naturally assumed invisibility. Oh gods, what if...? "Perhaps I'll make an exception for you this once." What?

Portia stepped away while cursing him under her breath, for he was pulling a curtain over the window, meaning that he somehow knew what she was up to. She might still be able to move the fabric, but she didn't want to risk bumping into him—not after she'd discovered she was more solid than desired in his presence, and the pull between them was always growing stronger, so accidents were not something that she wished to risk.

"I've made some observations," Mehrunes continued, his reddish body advancing on her and backing her into a wall that felt far too solid and real for her comfort. "Would you care to hear them?" He paused as if waiting for an answer before giving her his best, wicked grin. "No, I suppose you don't, but you'll listen anyway..." He loomed over her with an unbearable severity that made Portia straighten to her full height. She would not be cowed by this prince, even with all his power. "You're female."

Portia simply stared as one of his hands reached out and passed through her, but not smoothly. There was resistance, and his hand left a disturbance in her pulse that he apparently sensed if his smile was any indication. "Don't get excited," he admonished. "You're safe for the time being. I'd like to claim you and see how long it takes to break someone as forward as yourself, but I'm not going to rush." Yeah right. Portia glared and slipped through his arm, pleased that her physical form had not solidified in this odd, dreamlike state of hers. She didn't even know how that was possible when she had a very real body somewhere else, but she could worry about details later. "There's no point in running," Mehrunes grinned. "I'll never let you go, not after what you've done, but you won't stop fighting either, I'm sure."

Portia moved toward the curtain, determined to move it when a surge of pain shot through her hip. Crying out, she nearly fell to the floor but instead leaned against the wall, the desired curtains a mere foot from her. Her arm lifted, reaching for its fabric while the sphere burned against her skin in response. The bastard was going to get his own some day.

"Aghhhhh," she groaned as another sharp pain hit her, and she heard Mehrunes stalking closer.

"I don't think so," he growled. "I told you that the longer you touch Oblivion, the greater it's hold over you, and I'm telling you right now, I have far more power than required to take advantage of that. When you visited me in my home, you were distant—too detached to fully manipulate, but you're not so far from me now, are you?" The sinister bent to his words made Portia glare as he again reached for her. "You're not just mentally but physically close to me now, and we can play this game all night," he chuckled. "I haven't anything better to do, and you never fail to amuse."

Portia was wishing that her spirit form came equipped with a damned weapon as she faced off against the prince. She said nothing that he seemed to hear—not that the arrogant bastard was used to listening, and he continued talking and looking at her as if he could see her concentration and itchy attack fingers.

"You see me as I am," he thought aloud. "If you didn't, you'd have given me a few wounds to remember by now, or poisoned my food or something, but you've only..." He clamped his fanged mouth closed with a stern grunt before a more amusing idea seemed to hit him, and that's when he reached a hand for her hip—the hip where the wound was, and Portia could feel warm liquid on her skin as his fingers drew closer.

"Go back to the Deadlands, you bastard!" Portia spat, making a dive for the window. Mehrunes intercepted her with unseen force, reaching out with power rather than his physical body to hold her in place, and she certainly felt it, as if two strong arms were wrapped around her. For a second, she met his predatory eyes, and she couldn't help but ponder who would win in a fight between Mehrunes and Cassius. The aggressive man would love an opponent like this, and they'd likely rip each other to shreds, much to her convenience.

"Determined," Mehrunes admired. "I've always noticed that about you. Here, let me help you behave." Portia found herself thrown against and held to the wall, her toes barely touching the floor as Mehrunes walked close enough that his breath touched her skin. Thank Akatosh that this was only partially real, for otherwise, she'd be forced to claw him again in an attempt to die with some dignity.

"Do you know what it's like to be constantly thwarted in your plans?" he lowly asked her, nearly purring as she realized that he only wore pants. She supposed that it was better than a loincloth. "I'm a prince, and when someone makes a fool of me, I take it very personally. I've tolerated you because you interest me, being, but you can't hide behind fog walls forever. You have no idea how close your time is to running out. Sand through the glass, my lady." Portia was stunned as he stepped away, taking with it a distinct warmth that had invaded her bones. This was the man that had almost grown accustomed to and somewhat welcoming of her spirit presence, and now he rushed her with these threats? What troubled her most was the suggested substance behind them, and that could mean that...oh, by the Nine, but did he know? Those black eyes glinted with mischief, making it very likely.

"Be a good girl and go home," he whispered. "I promise that we'll meet again soon, and perhaps you'd like to wear something a little more appropriate next time. Although that is a very charming outfit..." He smirked cruelly as the power fazed out and Portia left his bedroom. He knew. Gods, but how had he found out? Why now? Was he watching her from afar until striking? Portia felt like she'd explode as she flew upward in her bed, the normal blood on her sheets, and her hands reaching to light a candle since sleep was out of the question for the remainder of the night.

Light crackled to life, and she pulled back her loosened hair. It was then that she looked down and noticed her bare, creamy legs folded across the sheets. A large tunic was the only thing that she wore, and it barely preserved her modesty. So he'd seen her, and in what a condition! She fought down the urge to break something as she leaned back against her pillows and ignored her slick wound. Of all the images of her that Mehrunes could hold, an short nightgown with a deep v-neck was not what she'd had in mind.