So, there is Lazarus (which I should be finishing up) but I put in Skyrim again and decided to write this little tidbit. Sorry, if it isn't the most amazing thing ever. I'm tired and it's after midnight and I'm doing a challenge to post 7 one-shots in 7 days. Let's hope I survive.

Lucien frowned as another arrow whizzed through his spectral form. Did these fools not realize you can not kill what is already long deceased? His ghostly blade pierced through the aggressor's torso, the cold of the void freezing the mortal's blood until he slumped, lifeless, to the ground.

The once-speaker glanced towards his partner. The Listener, clad in black and crimson armor, danced from enemy to enemy, cutting them down with her duel blades so fluidly as though she had carefully choreographed the entire battle. When the final foe had fallen, she pulled her cowl away from her face and tucked a few strands of ivory hair behind her ear. He cobalt eyes glanced over his way, bright and shining in the moonlight.

In the void, Lucien was no longer plagued by the emotions of man. He did not feel happiness, nor sadness. Only the thrill that buzzed through his incorporeal form with each soul delivered to his Dread Father. However, here on Nirn, a strange-and yet, all too familiar-sensation coursed through him at the sight of her alabaster skin speckled with crimson blood.

But, he thought grimly, it wasn't her skin.

Svenja was talented, but at times he doubted her worthy to carry the title of Listener. But, he trusted the Night Mother's judgement. For that reason, he answered her summons and remained at her side for as long as she required his company. She was fierce in battle, at least. She laughed gleefully as her foe was cut down and overpowered men three times her size. It reminded him of when he was alive.

With a far different companion at his side.

He'd caught himself a few times, now. Instead of Svenja, the Nord, he saw a much smaller figure. A Breton. With ebony hair, large grey eyes, and a musical voice.

Who are you?

A friend, child…

Even in his inhuman state, he felt longing build in his chest. How he wished for the familiarity of his Silencer.

Yes, he respected his current Listener (not always just because he must), admired her in some ways. But, she was far from perfection. Like her kinsmen, she was more likely to rush head-first into a fight rather than artfully pick off her targets. The sheer brutality of it disgusted him. Not to mention her haughtiness when it came to her station. He wondered if she took it seriously, or used to title as a means to conquer those around her.

"Alright, fine. Be that way. Let's just get a move on," Svenja cut through his thoughts, her tone sharper than any dagger. Lucien nodded stiffly, she must've been trying to talk to him for a while now. If there was one thing she hated, it was being ignored.

Have I done something to upset you, Speaker? You're quiet…

No, my dear. Often times, the most beautiful poetry is in silence.

How times had changed. Women used to be demure as well as deadly. Lucien knew it had been centuries since he last walked on Nirn. He knew he was a man, no longer. Strange, then, that he longed for such human things.

Like the touch of a familiar woman.

He was aware of Svenja's eyes on him, but pointedly ignored her piercing gaze. He wished to be back in the Void, alone in the embrace of his Dread Father, and his own thoughts. But, most of all, he longed to be in her embrace.

"Maela…"

"What?" Svenja arched an eyebrow at the specter.

"Nothing," He sighed.

That was her name.

Sweet Maela, do I frighten you?

I am only afraid of displeasing you, Speaker.

Svenja scowled. The Specteral Assassin was pleasant enough company. He'd give her advice on her contracts and offered scintillating conversation when she could finally draw it out of him. But, lately his mind seemed elsewhere. He'd ignore her, or look at her oddly, sometimes seeing straight through her as though she were the ghost. And, now this! So there was someone else on his mind.

That really pissed her off.

"Who is Maela?"

"An associate," Lucien replied, keeping his tone bored.

"An associate that you think of fondly," Svenja spat, her fingers twitched in irritation. She was his listener, was she not? Shouldn't he be focused on serving her? Not to mention the fact that he'd never sighed her name in such a manner!

"She was my protégé, so yes. We were close," Lucien admitted, but offered no more than that.

He could sense Svenja's rising temper, feel its heat radiating off of her.

"And her name is Maela?"

"Was," Lucien frowned. Of course, 200 years had passed. Maela was nothing but dust in the ground.

But, why hadn't she arrived in the Void like the rest of their brothers and sisters?

Svenja smirked slightly. Never would she admit to being jealous that another woman had this phantom's attention, but now, it appeared she needn't worry at all. How can one be jealous of a corpse?

"A pity," Her steps became lighter, more care-free. Lucien merely nodded once more.

He watched Svenja prance on ahead. Her ivory locks blew every-which-way with the wind and the leather of her armor creaked as it stretched across her muscles.

She was his listener. He should be focused on the task at hand. But, the more time he spent on Nirn, the more he thought of another listener, one he'd much rather be following.

So young, so sweet, so soft. So eager to please. He knew the Breton had lived for him, breathed for him. Oh, how eagerly she had completed her contracts, even when it came to purifying the sanctuary, killing those she had come to call "family."

She had returned with tears in her eyes, and a smile on her face.

I did it for you, Speaker. All for you.

That night, he took her in his arms. He felt the pain, the sorrow of having lost their family. He kissed her for penance, feeling cruel for putting that blood on her hands.

Lucien…

She offered herself as forgiveness.

Her heart.

Her soul.

Her body.

Oh, Lucien…

Then he had left her. He hadn't meant to, not at all. He fought his best, but three members of the Black Hand at once proved too much for him. His soul had left for the Void before he'd had a chance to fight it, just to see her face one last time.

LUCIEN!

"Lucien!"

Lucien's head jerked up. Svenja's hands were at her hips, eyes narrowed. A cold wind blew behind her, rustling the pines and kicking up small cyclones of snow and dead leaves. They were almost back to the sanctuary.

"If you're too busy in your own head, perhaps I should send you back for the night."

Lucien hesitated, then nodded, deciding some time in the void would do his restless soul some good.

"I will take my leave then, Listener."

Svenja seemed irritated, obviously not getting the answer she desired. But, with a simple incantation, she summoned her wolfish familiar, thrusting Lucien back into the Void.

"What's so special about her, anyway?" Svenja asked the wolf, rolling her eyes as it merely stared up at her. The Nord journeyed to the Dawnstar Sanctuary, ignored the other assassins, and locked herself in her room to brood.

She was a selfish woman, she could admit that. She also had a tendency of wanting what she couldn't have. She wasn't sure what about the Specteral Assassin earned her infatuation. Maybe it was his voice, his power, his legend, the list could continue on.

But, the fact of the matter was, now that she was Listener, didn't she deserve a loyal companion like Lucien? She had worked her way up from nothing and became the most respected member of the Dark Brotherhood, was she wrong to demand his complete devotion and attention?

Svenja sighed and lightly pet the furs of her bed.

A real woman, Svenja could kill. In the matter of a dead woman, Svenja could show him just how alive and eager she was. But a memory?

By Sithis, she wasn't sure how to compete with that.

So, I'm not sure if I should just leave it here, or perhaps add on another chapter. Let me know! Sorry if it doesn't make too much sense…I'm practically dead on my keyboard.