Chapter 22:

This was where they were supposed to meet, for Portia had received a notice that morning instructing her to find a table since Cassius would be running a little late. "The Gilded Swan" was a nice place for a meal, although a bit above her usual spending range, but an occasional treat would do no harm. Besides, Cassius would probably insist on paying, and the very idea sounded so much like a date that Portia hesitated as she stepped into the building. This was not a date in her mind, for Cassius was one of her suspects, but what exactly did he think of this? She had, of course, considered several possibilities, and as farfetched as a date sounded, she supposed that this was how ordinary people went about courting. Aristocratic men were understood to take ladies to public places lest rumors spread, although that was an often ignored social convention.

Either way, she was here now, and Portia would be damned if she let the implications of this meeting deter her. The concept of a date merely unsettled her since she was inexperienced in such matters, for while she had been assigned to male targets before, she had never led someone on when working. Sure, some flirting had served her well in the past, but to encourage someone as dark and demanding as her current suspect seemed a bit foolhardy. Normally, the idea wouldn't have bothered her since danger was no stranger, but this matter was complicated by the fact that she found herself genuinely coming to appreciate Cassius as a personality, and if she had to kill someone, she didn't like knowing them as a person.

Always assume the worst so you're never surprised, she recalled, Arelius having given her the advice one stormy night when she was about to go on patrol. As long as she recognized where the danger in Cassius lay, she would be prepared to handle him, or so she hoped. He had bested her in combat once before, and if he was the enemy, taking him down was not a task to laugh at. Beyond that, he was definitely clever, which made him an engaging man whose attention kept her guessing, and if he weren't so enigmatically threatening, she would have found his qualities ideal for a sparring partner.

"Good day, Portia." She glanced up to find Cassius slipping into the seat opposite her, their small, corner table brightly lit by a nearby window, and the light catching gold embroidery on the man's outfit. "Have you already ordered?"

"No," she answered. "I was waiting for you."

"Good. And were your students giving you difficulties today?" he continued, pointing to a large bruise on the back of her hand. The man looked delighted about something, but in a twisted way that only he could pull off so perfectly. Why, when he was such an imposing figure, did he always seem so interested in details concerning her? Thank Akatosh that the sphere was invisible, for she was sure that the man would have immediately noticed it otherwise, and she didn't feel like explaining the artifact's presence to him. She had let more than intended slip last night anyway, and she blamed the damn wine and his compelling companionship for that. She certainly wouldn't be accepting strange drinks from him ever again, for she had mentioned the alcohol to Lucretia, who was an expert on rare vintages, and was told about magically-imbued drinks that went straight to the head. Damn, conniving bastard.

"One of the boys was a little overzealous," she explained away her bruise, examining its purple and green hue. "If I hadn't stepped in, I'd be faced with an injured child and an angry mother right about now."

"Pain might have taught the weaker pupil a lesson," Cassius suggested.

"Do the world a favor and don't become a teacher," Portia responded, making Cassius bellow that deep, rich laugh of his. His black hair was loose today and hung about his face, the soft strands brushing across his cheeks as he smirked at her, and it was a smirk, for what he was doing definitely couldn't be called a smile. Damn, conniving, handsome bastard. Lunch wasn't going to be dull.

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

Tamil stood on a rooftop overlooking the Temple District and unrolled the scroll in her hands. Wind tousled her short, dark hair as black clouds approached on the horizon, sweeping down from the northern mountains and promising rain. It would be a perfect day for exploring the sewers, for the rats would run into hiding with the promise of swelling canals, and even if overflow made the walkways slippery, Tamil would rather deal with dampness than animals. Unfortunately, she'd been ordered not to explore the underworld.

Arelius didn't want her down there by her lonesome self when dawn members possibly lurked beneath the city's feet, and his decision irritated the hell out of her. He didn't know that she was a former assassin and accustomed to fighting in the dark, but he did know what she was capable of, which only served to aggravate her current restriction. Perhaps if she hadn't been severely injured during her last encounter with the Dawn, she'd be permitted to explore, but Arelius didn't heedlessly throw his recruits into danger. In her experience, he was more than willing to risk lives and make sacrifices for the empire, but he didn't do so unless convinced that it was necessary. The Dawn was a primary concern, but apparently their heads weren't worth losing his best operative.

Tamil unfurled the scroll and read through its contents, her face darkening as she did so. It was as she'd thought: Cassius didn't exist in Morrowind's courts. No one had ever heard of him, and the Matrino family line had died off almost a decade ago.

So who are you, Cassius?

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

"I heard that you were once a guard," Cassius commented, glancing at the darkening sky as he and Portia walked along the street, houses walling them in on either side. His companion wore a tunic and breeches today, and a sword was at her waist, the blade bobbing with each step that she took.

"I was for a while," she told him, her eyes also fixed on the black clouds above. Already people were hurrying to get inside, but she continued at a steady pace, unconcerned with getting wet. The cool rain would feel refreshing after collecting dirt in the training yard.

"But you're not a guard now," Cassius stated. "Why not?"

"There was an accident," she confessed, not seeing the point in lying to him. "One of my men died, and I decided that the job wasn't for me." Cassius cast an estimating glance in her direction, a hand brushing hair away from his face.

"You don't strike me as someone to be bothered by death. I would have guessed that you're experienced with such matters. Surely you killed when you were a guard."

"Once or twice," Portia slowly spoke, each word measured. She did not want to appear weak before this man, but she wouldn't pretend to agree with his callous dismissal of death merely to gain his approval. "There was a burglar that I cut down, and a killer in a back alley." Who was a spy passing information to a rogue nobleman in Anvil, but Cassius didn't need to know that she'd been involved in much more than she let on. "That never bothered me. Blood isn't something that I shy away from, but if I don't need to kill, I won't."

"But then how would losing a man make you leave a promising career?" Cassius pressured her, and she sent him a cold stare, warning him not to cross the line of acceptable questioning. As usual, he seemed immune to nonverbal cues.

"He didn't die by the hands of an enemy," Portia allowed. "And ever since, I've taken death more seriously. I didn't see the risk to others when I was less experienced, but the safety of people around you can't be taken for granted." The first few drops of rain began to fall, splattering off of the stone streets with muted music, and sending several nearby children into a laughing fit as they danced away from rushing parents. They reminded Portia of Arelius's children, and she briefly said a prayer for the two boys, willing the trouble of her life and the empire never to touch them. The danger of Arelius's secret life must have perpetually put poor Lucretia on edge. No wonder the woman was so strong and distant at times.

"It never rains where I'm from," Cassius stated, turning his face upward and letting the still mild rain run down his face as Portia watched the water roll down his exposed throat. He looked peaceful again, like when she'd read to him in the library, and it occurred to her that she'd never seen Cassius showing even the slightest interest to something as trivial as rain before.

"How do you grow food if it never rains?" Portia asked, hair matting to her head with the dampness, and cold drops dripping from her fingers.

"There are some plants that require little water or...other liquids, and my comment wasn't literal. There is rain, but not like you've seen, and when it hits the earth, the heat is so intense that it turns to steam." He closed his eyes a moment before lowering his head and looking at her, his hair completely slick and clinging to his neck, and the rain gaining momentum.

"This way," Portia motioned. "Before it downpours." They jogged toward a small shop with an awning over the doorway and stepped beneath it, their bodies close as the speed of the rain increased to a torrent, and the street gutters overflowing with muddy water as Portia stepped onto the shop's front step to keep her boots dry. She found it odd that she and Cassius were having such a mild day together, but she wouldn't complain as they waited for the rain to stop or slow. Part of her enjoyed his confident presence, which had felt familiar from the start, and right now, dark eyes fixed on the weather, he was incredibly docile.

"Have you ever fought in the rain?" he asked.

"Yes, and it was miserable." He chuckled and flipped dark hair back over his head.

"I've never fought in weather like this, but I would like to try."

"If that's a challenge, I'm passing," Portia muttered, and Cassius leaned against the building behind them with raised eyebrows.

"Afraid that you'll lose again?" he mockingly drawled. "Some Sherkyn you are."

"I can push you out into the rain," she teased, surprised at herself for joking with this man. She rarely said such childish things, but she hadn't spent casual time like this with someone in what felt like years. With Arelius, business always came into play, and Tamil was only around when she had nothing better to do. And Lucretia? The woman was friendly company, but their conversations were in passing, and Portia didn't want to appear a bother when the woman was so clearly pressed in watching over the house. Even if they'd been more available, Portia simply didn't have the time to sit around and act like life was normal since Oblivion, and before that, she'd been struggling to find her way out of life's jumbled nature. Now she was here, and this afternoon felt like one where she'd once gone out with her fellow Blades or guards for a drink and a dice game or two. She missed such activities now that she had returned to work. Maybe she'd see if Tamil wanted to go for a drink sometime.

"So Cassius is scared of getting soaked, I take it," she continued when her companion didn't respond to her threat. She looked at him to find his face contorted into a thoughtful expression. Then, with an almost blank countenance, he scoffed and turned away.

"Woman, no one has ever dared to do something so incredibly foolish and bold to me. Being pushed is not something that I would tolerate." Oh really? What an arrogant man, and Portia knew exactly what to do with men like that. With a quick shove, Cassius stumbled into the street, feet landing in a large puddle as rain quickly soaked him to the bone. He stood there, fists clenched tightly and shoulders rigid before he spun on her, his eyes burning with an anger that made Portia wonder if she hadn't made a mistake. No, let the man try to intimidate her, but she wouldn't cower before him, not after everything that she had endured—that she was enduring. She was tired of waking up shaking, and fearing sleep, and she had let fear drive her far too often in the last few months, even years if she considered how cowardly it'd been to hide from the blood on her hands. Arelius had done his best in showing her that, and it was one more lesson that she was struggling to apply.

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

That bitch! Mehrunes couldn't believe that he, the lord of destruction, was standing in a puddle because some woman had dared to push him. It was degrading, and no one had ever dared to lay hands on him in such a manner. Sure, he'd been challenged and wounded in battles, but to suffer something this trite and disrespectful? Oh, she was asking to be hurt. If a dremora had dared shove him like this, the damned fool would be swinging from the rafters by his innards by now, and that was before the prince's creativity kicked in. Did this woman have any idea what 'the punished' were? He ordered enemies' hearts opened and used as baskets for defiance.

Unbelievable!

"That was a very stupid mistake," he ground out, almost addressing Portia as 'mortal' in his anger, and he was quickly moving beyond angry. He had done excellently controlling himself today, behaving for the most part, and melting into the woman's company. She had spent the day with a prince and had even seemed to enjoy it, and now she had the nerve to treat him like some commoner.

"Woman..." He turned on her and reached for her unsuspecting form, her arms quickly coming up to defend himself, but that only gave him something to grab onto. She was no match for his physical strength as he ensnared her wrists and violently yanked her into the rain, her boots landing in the same puddle that he stood in. Water drenching them, they faced off, his superior force holding her directly before him as she remained willfully controlled, although he felt her pulse racing.

"Never touch me like that again," he loudly growled over the rain, wishing that he was in his normal form in order to magnify his intimidating presence.

"Are you so arrogant that you think you're above a lesson in humility?" Portia challenged, causing his blood to boil. The fire was returning to her eyes, and he was mesmerized by its intensity as he prevented her from escaping the rain or himself. Again, he felt a flare of energy from within her, and he unconsciously responded with a power spike of his own. It was becoming easier to detect her inner strength, the invisible patterns around her corresponding to what he knew of her spirit form, yet tainted by an unseen force. This human was certainly beautiful when her anger was fired, and with the rain blanketing their exchange, she was all his.

"I don't have to stand here and take this," she forcefully retaliated, and before Mehrunes could blink, he was on his back in the water, stone pressed against his soaking form as Portia quickly stepped away from his grasping hands.

"You're going to pay for that," Mehrunes spat, surging to his feet as Portia stood her ground.

"Not unless you want to make a scene, I'm not," she warned, spinning and walking away as if he couldn't touch her. Who did she think she was? Mehrunes moved quickly to catch up with her, muscles clenching in anticipation as he seized her from behind and yanked her into an alleyway, her body ramming into the wall as she gasped in surprise. Of course she wouldn't expect him to be so brutal in such a public setting, but he didn't care as he turned her, pressing her back against the wall and drilling holes into her eyes.

"You do not walk away from me," he snarled, and for a moment, he saw a flash of painful concern in the woman's face before it vanished, whisked away as quickly as the water around their feet. Her defiant expression reminded him of a female dremora more than ever as she braced hands against his arms, trying to dislodge them from her shoulders, but he wouldn't move. In Oblivion, his servants often chose their mates based on who resisted them most, but the comparison to his situation was ludicrous. This human had pushed him too far.

"Not so fast," he growled, hand whipping toward her waist and closing over her sword's pommel as she reached for it.

"That's not my only weapon, and if I scream," Portia threatened, "you'll see what the inside of an Imperial prison looks like."

"That'd be a pathetic escape," he roughly replied, annoyed by her resort to underhanded means to best him.

"Unfair advantages should be used, no?" she glared. She was stunning in her ruffled and unkempt state, will blazing against his own as water worked its way over her fair skin. Hair clung to the sides of her face, and her mouth was slightly opened, breathing controlled and the lips slick.

She looked at him as an equal would, and why wouldn't she? To her, he was just another human right now, and the realization made Mehrunes remember his false identity and release her, every sense cooling his anger. Yes, hair was stuck to his neck, he smelled of earth, and when he looked at his hands, he saw tanned flesh and not red. He looked human, and he was supposed to be acting like a human. If anyone had seen this, or if Portia was still a Blade, she'd be more suspicious of him than ever given his recent aggression. Would she see a parallel between him and the Mehrunes that she knew?

"You pushed me into a puddle," he digested, sounding dazed before suddenly feeling a chuckle work its way up his throat. He couldn't believe what had just happened, or how attracted he'd been to this human only seconds ago. Blood, he was still feeling aroused as his violent mood passed.

"You deserved it," Portia's voice honestly stated, and he couldn't stop looking at her green eyes, the fire gone, replaced by cool caution. He'd never seen someone with green eyes that could be so hard or gentle depending on the situation. "And I can get myself home just fine today. I have a meeting with another friend in a while anyway, or else there might be some red to wash out of my outfit. Our lunch is over." Who is she meeting? The question shot through Mehrunes as Portia prepared to leave. "Go dry off, Cassius."

"I hope that our friendship isn't damaged," he taunted, noting how her clothing clung to her figure. "I might also be less forgiving next time, and you did start this." When you chose to enter my world.

"You're lucky that I'm not as aggressive as you are," came the less sharp response. "Goodbye, Cassius." He waited several minutes after she left before following after her, his actions half-hidden by the thick rain that separated him and the thief. He was sure that she wouldn't hold a grudge given her parting tone, and when he'd held her against the wall, there was something else in her eyes besides determination. She could have attempt to hurt him, but she didn't, and those green eyes widening even a fraction when she's noticed his vision drifting over her skin...

"Portia!" an excited voice called. "What are you doing out in the rain?" Mehrunes balked when he saw a high elf approaching Portia, Gilthan's shielding spell encompassing her as they joined ways and continued walking, their conversation lost to Mehrunes due to a million tiny splashes of water. The two were walking toward Arelius's house, and the idea annoyed the prince as he considered the elf and Imperial. They'd gone to the ball together, so maybe there was something more to the two than friends, which made a low growl form in the base of his throat.

Maybe this elf would be a good source of information. Mehrunes dwelled on the consideration as he trudged back toward Horace's home, alone in the misty streets, and quite certain that he'd never go out in the rain like this again.

________

This one was a lot of fun to write, and guess who has internet again. Yipee!