A.N. I had no intention of turning this fic into another romance when I started it. After a while, though, I tend to lose control over the storyline because the characters tend to write their own stories. I just hope I haven't assassinated the character Lucien because I really wanted to do the character justice.

Chapter Twenty-Two

The farmhouse that Lucien spotted in the middle of nowhere and persuaded the owner to rent it out till the same evening isn't exactly the Tiber Septim Hotel. The bedroom is rather small and untidy, but at least the owner provided a new set of bed sheets, kept just in case his stray wife returns. Lucien offered enough gold coins to tempt the farmer, the boost of whose meagre income erased any questions about the sanctity of his home.

Lucien casts a Detect Life spell just to make sure the farmer went back to the field to watch his sheep. When he turns to face Arabella, no words are spoken but she is certain that she will soon find out what it is to receive Lucien Lachance's undivided attention. It is exhilarating and exhausting at the same time. If the first physical intimacy they shared was rather raw, it was still well restrained on his part. This time, Lucien lets the control go and Arabella is left to deal with the unmitigated force of merciless desire that penetrates and slams inside her. By the time the hunger in his eyes dissipates into a glow of satisfaction, Arabella doesn't have much left to give except a smile of understanding and her own gratifications.

Though he is nearly as exhausted as Arabella, Lucien lets himself relish the feel of her hot, feverish skin for a few more moments and plants soft kisses on her neck and bare shoulder before taking his weight off her. Pleasant silence reigns as they lie side by side, each listening to the rhythmic cycles of the other's heartbeat.

"You are fast becoming my addiction," he says with a mock frown, carefully wrapping her in his arms. The scent of sweat and aftermath of lovemaking still lingers in the air, and he knows he will sleep sweetly.

Arabella believes this is perhaps the first and last time that she does not have to compete with the business of the Brotherhood for his attention. Unfortunately, so much of it will be allocated to sleep. She runs her fingers through his damp hair, drying it with a warm breeze that she commands effortlessly. "Is that good or bad?"

"Since you are addicted to me and have no option but to live with me, I have to say such an event is rather … desirable."

Lifting himself up slightly to hold her in his gaze, Lucien assumes a more serious tone. This will be the last time he will ever talk about Bellamont with her. Nevertheless, he does owe her this much, being unable to acknowledge to his family the credit she deserves for uncovering the traitor's plot and securing indisputable proof. "I am sorry for denying you the right to witness the very end of Bellamont. If it helps, I denied myself the same right, too."

Arabella does not try to turn her gaze away from him. A sudden relief hits her like an ocean wave that has passed the storm. His words remind her of the fact that Bellamont is finally free from the torturous life he made for himself. The Void may not be where he wanted to be but at least his suffering is now over. It wouldn't have made any difference to Bellamont's last journey whether she observed it or not. She only wishes an unsuspecting passer-by might give his lifeless body a burial he never granted his victims.

"I am just grateful that I have not failed you," she replies thoughtfully, forming a small smile on her lips. "And that he can no longer harm you."

"Not as much as I am," Lucien concludes, gently brushing her lips with his thumb.

Arabella is thankful for what Lucien didn't do with Bellamont and understands that it took more than just steely self-discipline for him to have resisted the urge to confirm the demise of his enemy with his very own eyes. She is starting to believe that he has developed a genuine regard for her. She will not however tell him these thoughts. It is better if the name of the former Anvil Speaker is never mentioned between them.

Closing her eyes and wrapping one arm around him, Arabella wonders what kind of dream he will have. She can predict all too well about her own. She has only ever had the same dream since she first set eyes on Lucien Lachance.

"So, how did it all end?" Vicente enquires, sipping a glass of Tamika Vintage wine Antoinetta brought with her. Clever girl, he thinks with a smile. She certainly knows how to win a vampire's heart.

"J'Ghasta was generous enough to let me have the honour of ending the traitor's life. He said that it belonged to a current member of the Cheydinhal Sanctuary since we had to bear most of the damage Bellamont inflicted. I think I'm quite fond of the Khajiit Speaker. He is rather well-mannered."

Antoinetta takes a generous drink of her wine, thinking she can do with a bath. The water she swam through was rather mucky. She casts a sympathetic glance over Shaleez before turning her attention back to her favorite vampire and her account of Bellamont's death.

"I remember exactly which parts of Maria's body Bellamont assaulted. So, I gave him a little hello from Maria and an extra stab through the heart with a good twist just to make sure. I can understand, though, why Lucien left the miserable rat to me and J'Ghasta to deal with. I nearly left my glass dagger where it stuck. I was even tempted to throw away my guantlets and armour. It felt like they were tainted by unclean blood. Lucien probably didn't want to part with his beloved sword. Anyway, I suppose I could auction them to the highest bidder in the Sanctuary."

The gleeful expression on Antoinetta's face gives away to a rather melodramatic sigh as she becomes conscious of her sorry appearance. She looks across the water with a mournful gaze. At least, she had enough sense to leave most of her lugguage near the entrance. The question is how she is going to get her blankets and dry towels without having to suffer another traumatic swim. As she turns her eyes back to the vampire, her eyes light up; Vicente looks much composed and rather dry.

The afternoon sunlight pours in through the small window, bringing with it unwelcoming heat and brightness. Lucien stirs and wakes into the world where Bellamont is no more. Even though the heat makes him frown, he does not try to untangle himself from Arabella's tight grip. She has earned that much for herself.

There isn't much that he can think about the Brotherhood business till he joins Uvani and J'Ghasta. The future of their organization will very much depend on the Night Mother's choice in the Listener. He is certain, however, the Black Hand and the Brotherhood not only have survived the crisis but will also emerge stronger, regardless of whom their Unholy Matron plans to appoint in that prestigious position.

With eyes half closed, Lucien indulges himself in the idle planning of his incoming wedding. The Black Hand members will have to be informed of the event, preferably afterwards with the exception of J'Ghasta, who, if not invited, would probably declare the marriage void. Vicente can plausibly perform the ceremony in addition to serving as another useful witness. Luckily for himself, Arabella does not have a family, whose existence could complicate the whole process. There is no way that he will agree to going through a church wedding.

Lucien turns his gaze towards the sleeping form contentedly wrapped in his arms, his eyes catching the silver amulet she is wearing. The sight inevitably takes his mind to one important and difficult question; the wedding gift. He likes to be in control and does not like it when he feels lost. Unfortunately, this is one area where he doesn't wish to consult Arabella but knows that he doesn't have any other choice. Lucien very much doubts that either J'Ghasta or Vicente has dated anyone similar to Arabella, whose sole interest seems to lie in … himself. Apart from the fact that he loathes asking advice on private matters, their suggestions may well turn out to be a poor guidance. As for his own experience, he never felt any need to bestow gifts to anyone other than his former Silencers. In any case, the Black Hand usually looked after such matters.

Arabella's sleepy eyes finally open with an accompanying soft sigh as Lucien carefully separates himself from her grasp to get dressed.

"I wonder," he says with a quiet smile, "whether it is ever possible to leave your side without being noticed. It doesn't do much good for my confidence as a professional assassin."

"I hoped to wake up before you."

"So that you could watch me sleep?"

"So that I could shelter you from the intruding afternoon sun," Arabella replies, her palm stretched outwards in the direction of the small window.

The room suddenly darkens and cools. Lucien cannot believe his eyes when he realises that the window has just vanished, replaced by a solid wall. He will have to spend some time to find out what other things Arabella is capable of. Then, it occurs to him. She's never even tried to use a Charm spell on him, despite her exasperating desire to secure his affection.

"How good are you with Charm spells?"

"On occasions I had to use them, they never failed me in obtaining the information I wanted," replies Arabella with a slight smile. "I never used them on you because I didn't want turn into illusion the only reality that matters to me."

Lucien nods his understanding. He is her master only because she lets him. She could have easily changed their standing towards each other. Nevertheless, it remains true that she belongs to him and will protect him till the day she breathes her last breath. Perhaps, he doesn't deserve her devotion, but then emotions are rarely directed to deserving objects.

"If we were given a chance for another life, find me before the Night Mother," he says, a playful tone disguising the nature of his remarks, an apology.

"I would have hoped I would turn out rather sensible next time."

"You should be. I would be the reckless one."