The Gray Fox looked down at the young woman cradled against him and held back a weary sigh. He had tried so hard to protect her, inadvertently given up his identity so that he could fulfil her mother's last wishes and make her disappear, drifted from his home city to evade the assassins and keep them ever guessing and then finally allowed himself to be torn between Anvil and the Imperial City when she had finally found a home, just so he could keep an eye on her.
When she had not arrived at the pond as planned he had come to the Waterfront to search for her. He had found her lying on the floor of her miserable shack against the wall trying in vain to rub the bloodstains off her hands. "I didn't mean to do it," she rasped out as her eyes went wide and she shook her head in disbelief. "He kept provoking me...he confronted me on the road but it wasn't enough..." She broke off into sobs and shuddered.
"It was self defence," he retorted gently. 'She grew up so quickly,' he thought sorrowfully, 'ten years of our lives gone already. Ten years without my wife and home, ten years for Seraphina to be without her home, to be a fugitive of the assassins. She's a woman now and her mother never got to see it.'
"I only meant to warn him off..."
"I know," he assured as he pushed some of her sweat soaked hair back from her brow.
She paused as his brown gloved hand brushed against her forehead and glanced up at him with a tearful, longing green gaze. She met his own bright eyed, sky blue stare and sighed, those eyes always seemed to look familiar and yet there was a mystery to them, even to her. "What will I do?" she queried quietly.
"We will sort this," he retorted firmly. It had taken several tries, sobs, screams and ramblings but he had finally gotten the just of the story. A nobleman had accosted her on the path just outside the city when she was coming to meet him and provoked her into a fight; the fight had turned ugly then lethal. His darling Seraphina, only just turned twenty, had blood on her hands. He had known from her wild state that it had been accidental, of course it had, Seraphina had a temper but she was not a killer, but there was no undoing it.
She shook her head miserably and said softly, "I ruined everything. Today was supposed to be special...it's been so long, I'm lonely without you..."
He tensed slightly, wary of her tone. He had tried to be her guardian but it was so difficult when they were always on the run and he was jumping from city to city, forced to guide and lead a guild he did not want, then he had tried to be her father when her own had rejected her but that had been even worse, he was, despite his best intentions, more of a stranger to her than her real father. At least Sam had a name and an identity for her to know but the Gray Fox was a fable, a masked mystery, and without the mask he was a stranger. "I'll get water from the well and we will get you cleaned up," he said as he pushed her away as gently as he could manage.
She nodded weakly with a dejected look as she leaned back from him and wrapped her bloody hands about her torso tightly.
"It was a terrible accident but an accident nonetheless," he said reassuringly as he pushed himself to his feet. He stepped towards her door and paused with his back to her to remove his mask.
She watched on curiously, knowing he had taken his mask off before her several times and yet not once could she recall the face. Blue eyes and dark hair, that was all she could remember but she could never look at that face and know he was the Gray Fox, it was a wicked curse and as frustrating for her as it was for him.
'How can I love a man whose face I can never quite recall and whose name I forget no matter how many times he says it to me?' she wondered with a frown. 'Am I just in love with his reputation and legend like everyone else?' She shook her head scornfully. 'No, he helped me run from the assassins, he found me a home and he tries to keep me safe. He meets me every year to feed the ducks, sometimes we can even have a drink and he makes me laugh. I know him even if I don't but it's not enough.' She thought of Roland then and the tears burned anew. 'What would he think of me? Bad enough he spurned me but he would probably hate me if he knew what I had done.'
The Stranger stepped out into the cool afternoon, and headed round the back of Seraphina's shack to where the communal well stood. Despite still wearing his Gray Fox leathers no one blinked an eye at him, a few beggars were curious, wary even of the unknown man but no one once recognised him as the infamous thief. He stopped at the stone well and leaned against it wearily, the water was deep within the ground, the well shallow from usage and a lack of rainfall. It was the beggars and thieves only free source of freshwater that was uncontaminated, the water in Lake Rumare near the Waterfront was rife with pollution and waste and it was hard to get down to it to fetch water and even if one was successful the guards were quick to tax them for the privilege.
He started to pull up the bucket causing the rusting cogs to creak and the wooden bucket to bang against the stone loudly. 'I need to know if there were any witnesses,' he thought seriously, 'that's the first problem. Next is bribing them into silence if possible, if not then I need to get her out of the city, at least until the heat is off. Where will she go though? Anvil?' He winced at the thought, every time he went there he was heartsick for his wife, it was torture looking up at her and having her looking right through him like he was nothing and yet he could never stay away for long. 'No,' he decided firmly, 'I can't have them both there it would be too much.'
At last the bucket reached the top of the well and he poured it into another nearby bucket before letting it drop back into the well. He lifted the second bucket and hastened back to her shack. He opened the door, sat down the bucket and hastily put on the mask, avoiding her puzzled stare as he did. It stung to see even her green eyes look at him with confusion. She had come to know the Imperial known as the Stranger as a person, even started to remember him but she was completely incapable of reconciling him with the Gray Fox. Worse, she did not know him at all as Corvus Umbranox, Count of Anvil who had saved her on that fateful day ten years ago.
"Fetch a cloth and some soap," he commanded her gently as he sat the bucket down and rested on a wooden stool. The shack only had one room which contained a tattered blanket and flat pillow on the floor, a battered, wooden trunk with one lock on it, two wooden cupboards, a single table and chair, both with dents, scratches and wonky legs, and the stool. The Gray Fox loathed to see how Seraphina lived every time he visited but she had pointed out that better conditions would only draw suspicion upon her, it was why all the thieves of the city lived in squalor despite their ability to steal coin. They could steal only enough to live by and help the beggars with, taking for jobs for stealing was fine too but stealing too much for personal gain always drew suspicion and questions eventually.
Seraphina found a moderately clean cloth and an old half bar of yellowing white soap before pulling a chair out from the table and sitting on it opposite the thief. She was numb as she allowed him to soak the cloth in the bucket, rub the soap along it and then take her right arm in his hand and rub the cloth along it. At first he tried to be kind but the blood had started to dry and in the end he abandoned compassion for practicality and started to scrub the skin raw.
Finally, when he was certain every speck was gone, the Gray Fox abandoned the now reddish-brown cloth in the murky water with the soap and gave his protégé a small smile. "There, clean again," he enthused. The expression she gave him in response made his heart swell with pity; she was so pathetic looking, her green eyes filled with guilt and her lips sunk down in a deep frown. "I will see Armand," the Imperial remarked calmly, "and find out if there were any witnesses or if there are any rumours but I will not let him or anyone else know anything about it, if I can help it."
"And if you can't?" she quipped bitterly. "If he knows, if the guards know, then what?"
"Then you and I leave the city," he answered firmly as he reached out to her with one gloved hand and stroked her blonde hair. She leaned into his palm and he froze, unsure what to do, his fingers gripped round her cheekbone subconsciously in a light gesture prompting her to let out a soft almost inaudible moan. The thief's hand dropped away and he stood up hastily, feeling awkward and a little embarrassed. He realised he had been looking at her pearly pink lips when she had moaned, noticing how soft they looked, like petals. "I'll see you as soon as can," he assured, "try and get some rest."
She nodded miserably as he turned away from her and hastened out the door, once more slipping off his mask before he did.
After a couple of hours had past there was a knock on the door. The noise tore Seraphina out of her almost catatonic state on the floor and she looked to the door warily, fearful of guards. "Sera open up!" a familiar voice called.
Her emerald eyes widened but she remained where she was.
"Sera please!" the voice begged.
She knew she should ignore it, especially now after all that had happened, what if he knew? Yet she couldn't ignore him, even after all he had done. She pushed herself to her feet, walked slowly to the door as he continued to knock and call and at last unlocked it and opened it to him. "Roland," she greeted coldly.
Roland Jenseric was a tall, attractive Breton woodsman; in his early thirties he had short, raven black hair, a hint of stubble at his chin and dazzling, gold eyes. It was his unusual glittering gaze that had ensnared Seraphina, it was impossible not to be lured in by his promising amber stare. He opened his mouth, ready for an explanation probably, but Seraphina was quicker, slapping him hard before he could speak a single word.
The Breton reeled back in shock with a gasp of pain but managed to resist touching his now reddened cheek. "I'm sorry Sera," he said sincerely when he composed himself. "I really am, I wanted to tell you but I didn't want to hurt you."
Seraphina shook her head angrily as she feel the tears begin to burn anew, this she did not need on top of everything else. "I don't want to hear your excuses," she snarled heatedly, "or your lies! Just go away!" She slammed the door hard and immediately locked it, opening it had been a mistake. 'I can't deal with this,' she thought as the tears streaked down her cheeks and she looked about the shack anxiously, 'not now...I killed someone...I stabbed him so easily...Roland cheated on me...It's too much, everything's just falling apart!'
She sank to her knees and forced herself to tune out Roland's banging and pleas. It was ten minutes later than she heard Methredhel's angry shouts as the wood elf chased the Breton away before calling out to Seraphina with concern. The blonde Imperial wanted to answer the door to her friend but she was afraid the perceptive Bosmer would know that more than Roland was annoying her and that she would end up crying and admitting her ill deeds. So once more she ignored the banging at her door.
As the sun started to sink down beneath the horizon Seraphina finally drifted off into an uneasy slumber, half beneath her filthy blanket, her hair a loose tangle about her. It was as darkness finally took over that her door opened silently with ease and an invisible stranger intruded. He stopped to gaze down at the oblivious woman and smirked. 'Funny how even killers can look so innocent asleep,' he thought mockingly. Her golden hair surrounded her head and face like a tarnished halo, her creamy, pallid honey skin was spoiled with smudges of dirt, her bare throat bore a light bruise and a pale, pink scratch from where a necklace's sharp clasp had cut it, and her visible top betrayed her poverty further, showing loose threads, the start of replacement patchwork and a few grey stains. She was a beauty gone wrong.
He moved about her shack quickly like a shadow, she grunted only once causing him to tense and glance her way. With his movement his invisibility was gone and yet he still blended into the murky walls, a living being of darkness itself. Satisfied that she was still unaware of him he continued with his actions, smiling once it was done. He had a soft spot for theatrics though he so rarely took the time to be dramatic, largely it was unnecessary but in this he thought it would be helpful. If she was broken first, properly broken and paranoid of the shadows at every turn it would make it all a lot easier. Fear and guilt would consume her to the point that when he returned she would be willing despite herself considering it a punishment worthy of the crime. It was unfair that she should be a victim of his games simply because his real target was too tricky to ensnare but if he had cared for fairness he would have chosen a different line of work.
With ease Lucien LaChance drained another invisibility potion and slipped out the door back into the black of the night. Two hours later and Seraphina awoke. Mussed with sleep and aware that it was late rather than early and not a time to be awake, the young thief hunted in the gloom for a candle and then the two rocks she kept near it to create a spark. She banged them together five times before at last a spark caught on the candlewick. She picked up the metal handle as the white candle flickered to life, wondering again what had disturbed her as she swung the candle about her surroundings.
A scream escaped the young blonde and she dropped the candle. The flame snuffed out as the candle landed on its side and banged into two on the floor but not before Seraphina was able to take in the bloody graffiti on her wooden wall. There in large, crimson smears were the words- 'WE KNOW'.
The door was forced in swiftly as the Gray Fox came at the screams. He had been returning from a satisfactory search for information about Seraphina's deed and was walking in the shade of the trees of the Waterfront with Armand. The Imperial thief had learned that there was rumour spreading of a bloody murder of the wealthy man Pennus Mallius but that no one knew the culprit. Supposedly a guard had seen a woman flee from the scene but he could not identify her, only able to say that she was blonde, but he had not witnessed her commit the deed only seen her leave the body. Now the beggars gossiped that perhaps she had simply been traumatised by the killing or was fleeing from the murderer, with some coin the Gray Fox had encouraged this particular rumour to keep spreading.
"Sera!" he called out anxiously. He saw her sitting by her bed, stiff and wide eyed; she looked at him wordlessly before raising a single finger to point at the wall. He followed her gesture but in the darkness it was hard to make out what she was pointing at.
"Someone knows," she choked out fearfully.
Armand arrived behind the masked thief with a pant and queried, "what's wrong? Is she alright?"
The masked thief stepped to one side to allow the Redguard in as he continued to look to the wall in puzzlement. Armand stepped in with a torch in his right hand, illuminating the shack in a warm, orange glow. The words flared up in the light, a shining crimson brown, messy but readable, two simple and damning words.
"What does that mean?" Armand queried as he looked at the stain in confusion. "We know? Who are we? What do they know? Is it a prank?" he pondered.
"I was asleep," Seraphina murmured, "I...they must have done it then...but I didn't hear anything." She shuddered at the thought, as a thief she was meant to be more perceptive than the average person and yet here she had lain vulnerable to a complete stranger. 'Why just a warning?' she wondered nervously. 'They could have killed me or turned me in, anything. What's going on? Who did this?'
The Gray Fox took a step towards her, crouching down before her with a soothing look. "It's alright," he assured, "it's just a poor tasted joke."
She shook her head in protest, opening her mouth to object before she glanced at Armand and closed it again. He wasn't yelling accusations at her or glowering her way so he couldn't know, at least not yet.
"We'll wash it off in the morning," the Gray Fox assured.
"Yes," Armand agreed though he still looked confused, "in the mean time, maybe you should stay with someone else," he suggested, "at least until we can get a better lock for your door."
"That won't be necessary," his superior retorted, "I'll stay here tonight."
Seraphina looked to him in grateful surprise; he rarely stayed a night with her anymore.
"But there's only one bed," Armand objected. He didn't want the fabled thief thinking the Imperial City thieves couldn't do better for him.
"It's fine," the Gray Fox assured. "Now it's late, we can do no more this evening. Thank you for your assistance Armand and we will see you in the morning."
Armand wanted to argue against this dismissal but he knew better, instead he nodded and exited out of the shack reluctantly, taking the light with him. He shut the door behind him, banishing the outside world of the Waterfront and leaving the two Imperial thieves alone in darkness.
"No one knows anything," the Gray Fox was quick to assure the blonde, "I asked around. There are rumours about the murder but only one guard saw you fleeing the scene and he was too far away to identify you. Most people think you were fleeing from the killer or simply running out of shock."
Seraphina shook her head and stammered again, "someone knows, it's on my wall; why else would they do that? Someone knows."
He tugged off his gloves, set them on the floor and then embraced her close with his bare hands, pulling her tight against him. "No one knows Sera," he insisted, "this is just some cruel joke, probably ten other houses have the same message on their walls either to flush out the killer or just to spook people. It happens in the wake of a mysterious murder, people come claiming to be the murderer or accusing others just to garner attention and create more drama. Pay it no heed."
"No, they know it was me," she argued nervously, "they know but why are they taunting me like this? What next? What if they've gone to the guards?"
"That won't happen, I promise. Look this stupid prank has made you afraid, I understand but I assure you the guards cannot come to you, they have no evidence or witnesses, nobody knows a thing. Now, I'll stay the night with you so no one else will be sneaking in here to scare you."
"Stay the night?" she echoed as she looked up to him in the gloom.
"Er..." He felt his cheeks burn beneath the mask at the implication. It had been strange seeing her again, startled and crying at first it had been easy to mistake her for a child again but then the bloodstains had ruined that image. Then he had returned tonight and there had been no mistaking her for anything but a full grown adult. In the light of Armand's torch as afraid as she had looked he could see the experience and maturity in her emerald stare, the sternness in the jut of her jaw that a child could not master and then of course his blue gaze had, just for a brief moment, dared to take in the womanly curves scarcely hidden beneath a low cut and tattered, stained, cream shirt.
She snatched one of his hands in hers and pressed his bare palm down on her thigh and he realised she had only the long shirt on. Her thigh was smooth and warm beneath his calloused hand, toned from all the running she had done from buildings, guards, and owners of many trinkets and treasures, as well as the sneaking about in tunnels, corridors and sewers. She was slender from minimal food and toned from an active lifestyle like most thieves were, they did not hunger like the beggars but they rarely dined like the middle class and never supped like the nobility.
"Sera..." The protest was there on his lips but she silenced it with a kiss and, as desperate for company as she was, he allowed her to.
It was not right; they had never been this way. He continually thought of Millona and she had been enamoured with Roland but Millona did not even recognise him and Roland had replaced her. They were alone save for each other, as it had always seemed to be for the past ten years despite their best efforts to fit in somewhere and find a new life for themselves.
"It gets longer and longer," she murmured sorrowfully, "the gaps between your visits. It might be months before I see you again and I know, I know you have the ache there just like me. No matter how hard we try to fill it and no matter who with it doesn't work. I'm the only one who understands you and you're the only one who understands me. You're the only one who could forgive me for what I've done." She fell silent then as the tears trickled down her cheeks once more.
She was right; she was the only one who understood his curse and his eternal loneliness and heartache. Of course she could never replace Millona, no one could and he could never possibly be the one for her but at least there was no deception with Seraphina, no acting or faking. "You just want the pain to end and so do I," he realised even as he pulled his hand away.
"Yes, that's it," she retorted sadly, "ten years of agony, of never being who I should be, it's a curse we share. Let's share it then, and banish the pain, if only for a moment."
He shook his head. "No Alexandra," he dared to use her real name, "no pretending or forgetting it wouldn't be right." It was difficult to reject her, he was attracted to her he realised but their relationship was already so complicated, he did not want to make it worse.
She sighed and bowed her head, banishing his beguiling blue gaze. "You're right," she murmured bitterly, "it just hurts so badly."
"I know."