Matia dropped through the hidden entrance to Fort Farragut. She wasn't certain why she'd come except that she wanted to see the only person left who didn't make her want to kill them. The elf woman, Arquen, drove Matia half mad just with her somehow still pompous presence, and the new recruit was no company since he trembled in fear and stammered out only professional courtesies whenever they crossed paths. Matia wasn't sure why as she wasn't an imposing person; with barely nineteen years to her name, standing a head shorter than Lucien, not an excessively tall man himself, petite, a light tan with softly waved, warm brown hair and eyes that could be as doe-like as she willed them, she did not think she cut a figure to inspire such trepidation. Then again, to a brand new Murderer having heard the dark history and background of the Brotherhood, the Night Mother and Sithis, they would probably expect someone who appeared more murderous in the post of Listener. The fact that she looked so harmless and innocent may have made her particularly unnerving.

She'd have preferred if Lucien would stay at the sanctuary too, but she supposed if she had the option like him she would stay somewhere the elf wasn't, too. He did not show any surprise at the Imperial girl's unannounced appearance, merely halted what alchemy he was practising and greeted the new Listener courteously.

"Oh, stop with that. It's odd... how am I the Listener, really?" she asked weakly, mainly for something to say.

"The Night Mother has chosen you and she has her reasons. All of them more worthy than any you or I could offer." Lucien observed the girl's apparent nerves and supposed she was worried that he felt usurped by the child prodigy. "Don't worry, I am not wounded by her decision nor was I expecting the position myself. As I said, her reasons are the truest, and I am honoured to continue serving her as Speaker." The girl had only marginally relaxed and he couldn't resist toying with her a little. "And you, my Listener, as part of your Black Hand." He bowed somewhat theatrically, making the girl visibly cringe. Only she could have properly recognised the mischief in his actions. Arquen would have been taking notes.

"Stop that, I told you!" At least she had relaxed enough to throw her riding gloves at the vexatious Speaker, who happily had not risen far enough from his ridiculous bow to defend himself from the flying leather. Matia smirked at the flustered expression she glimpsed on his face, so rare if ever existent on the ever-ready assassin. She moved to flop down in a chair. "I don't mind being Listener... it's just... the people. How can I be the boss? I'll probably be the youngest one here for some time."

"The new one seems sufficiently terrified of you," Lucien commented, deciding on looming over her to regain some dignity.

"That's almost worse! Grovelling and treating me like some... noble. I'm just a low born, practically a street child, I grew up anywhere and everywhere on my own. I don't know what to do with that." Her tone was somewhat final, as though she hadn't really come to talk about that. She gazed off to the side and faraway.

Lucien took the chance for a retaliation. "The boy is young, fresh. Perhaps he is simply anxious that the first pretty girl he has spoken to is also quite deadly." The moment of contemplation on the young Listener's face preceding the almost double take as she struggled with how to respond to the unexpected comment was a joy to behold. She settled with scrunching her nose and huffing as she turned away, arms folded. By Sithis, the girl wonder was actually blushing.

He left her to fluster a while before returning with two cups of wine. The Speaker never usually drank much- the idea of purposefully degrading his reactions and coordination did not seem wise. But after very nearly meeting his demise at the hands of his own people but for the swift intervention of his Silencer at the time- this blushing girl in front of him, of all people- and the traitor now dead, he felt the need for a drink once in a while. Matia accepted the cup and half drained it in a few gulps. Never very ladylike, that one. He conceded to put her out of her misery, given that she had saved his life. "Matia, the boy is afraid of your deservedly fearsome reputation. Yes, you were promoted at times due to some politics and necessity of the situation, but you eliminated half the Black Hand single-handedly. Not forgetting you succeeded where others had failed for so long with Dreth and Phillida."

The girl forced a brief smile and drained the rest of her cup. "Mmm, he's probably more concerned with the... Purification." She still paled at the word. It stung Lucien, too, though he was more practised in preventing painful events from reaching where they could really damage him.

They remained silent a while, remembering. Remembering their fallen siblings, remembering how it had thrown them together as the only two who could save their guild when the treachery continued. Matia noticed Lucien attempt to surreptitiously down his wine. She could feel hers warming her belly and beginning to lift the cloud that had settled over her mind from this conversation. She was partial to a drink but had never built up much of a tolerance, being so small. "Hit me," she held up her cup for her host to refill. She needed a break today. Lucien returned her newly filled cup with nothing more than a raised eyebrow, thankfully, but she sipped this one more slowly.

They drank for a while in silence- blessed silence, something Arquen didn't seem to appreciate- and she let her thoughts wander. She was slowly feeling more confident, less a worried child. She knew she was worthy of the title Listener, and she could probably deal with the people side of things. She wouldn't have to if she didn't want, anyway. In fact it would be better to keep her real identity a secret from all but those who absolutely needed to know. So why did this nervous boy affect her so? He was not too much older, and scared of her, like... like the one from a few years ago, she realised. Despite that he was physically gone, he was still with her somehow. She didn't like it. She hadn't been able to get rid of him in the year and a half or so she had been with the Brotherhood. Maybe she should start to really consider all methods of losing him.

She could feel her mood slipping again as she rued the fact that he was still here and her siblings were not. She finished the second cup of wine with an angry flourish.

"Matia?" Lucien enquired after the girl, whose slamming of her cup on the table had startled him from his own ruminations. She looked distressed and he worried the drink and talk of the ancient ritual had been an unwise duo. However, her expression softened on looking at him and she waved a hand in dismissal, rising from the chair. To his surprise- the second time she'd managed that today- she reached her arms around his neck and hugged him.

"I'm glad you're here, I thought I was going to be too late." She was speaking of the night at Applewatch, her thoughts jumping faster than her ability to explain herself at this point. He seemed to have followed, though, and unexpectedly returned the gesture, if only briefly. She forgot her previous worries for a moment as she felt the warmth of his body, drinking in the comfort another human being's embrace could bring. His hands fell heavy but comfortingly on her shoulder blades and his scent found her nose, so close was her face to his neck. She didn't know if the smell was his own or some fragrance, but he smelt nice.

His hands were pushing her arms down from his shoulders while he quipped, "You certainly know how to build tension. But you made up for it shortly thereafter." His eyes glinted as his thumbs graced the scars she had sustained on her palms in fending off her Speaker's attackers. The warmth running between the two hands, the sensation of skin against skin was suddenly all Matia could notice. She craved more of the sensation, as though she'd forgotten what it was to connect with another person- which she more or less had, deprived as she had been of much contact other than her own death-touches.

Some idea began to work its way into her mind. She was sometimes impulsive, but much more so when drink was involved. "You have made quite the assassin of me," she smirked, having fun with the idea now. She took the hands still touching hers and directed them to her waist. "Dear brother, would you... would you make a woman out of me, too?" Nothing short of stupor pervaded his features, if only in subtle ways those who knew him well would notice. She had to admire his determination to never let the mask slip.

He blinked and retracted his hands as the girl only smirked at having succeeded a third time. "You are drunk, or mad, or both. What are you playing at?" he asked rather bluntly. She must really have rattled him.

She was positively keen on the idea now and tipsy enough not to run away in embarrassment at the harsh response. "I mean it, Lucien. It's... kind of a long story..." she employed her doe-eye abilities hopefully.

Lucien paused as he surveyed the girl for signs of inebriation or insanity. She only seemed a little tipsy. "What madness would drive you to come to me with this... proposal?" Give the girl a medal, he thought, for she has achieved the impossible of rendering Lucien Lachance practically speechless.

"No madness... and you once came to me with a proposal, of sorts. Which I accepted, remember." The madwoman flashed a grin before turning serious. "But I... I can't be a boss, a leader if I'm still a child... until I've..."

Lucien could read between the slurred lines and was not sure he liked what he saw. Or was it just that he had to try to dislike what he saw? He folded his arms. "You mean to say that you're a maiden."

Matia visibly slumped. "No, there was one but... it wasn't exactly... mutual." Lucien softened his stance and let his arms drop slightly. "I still feel like that kid sometimes..." she began fidgeting with her hands.

Lucien took care with his words. Given some of the things he had done he didn't think he was the best person to whom she could be telling this story. "I see."

Matia was becoming aware her rambling had become a bit morose- not her intended effect since she didn't want sympathy over this, from anyone. She had dealt with it herself some time ago. She continued. "Anyway, I just never... you know. Found anyone else. I was never very interested... but you interest me, Lucien."

She looked up at his face and stepped closer, at this moment a picture of sweet innocence. In another situation, another girl like this... well, the assassin wouldn't have bothered with this conversation. And here she was, offering herself up on a plate. But this was family... the Listener, by Sithis. She did say it herself though: he had made an assassin out of her. And he supposed there was more than one way to corrupt innocence, an activity that did please him. "I am not described by many as a 'nice man', Matia."

She merely continued looking up at him with that blank, sweet expression. "You have always been good to me," is all she said.

And it was all she needed to say. Lucien raised his hand to her cheek. "Then come to me, dear sister, and I shall teach you."

She had not thought about kissing the Speaker before. Well, the image had flitted through her mind as happens when becoming acquainted with someone of notable attractiveness, but nothing she seriously considered. Maybe it was the wine, or that she considered him a good friend, or that they had both narrowly escaped death together, but it wasn't awkward when she had stepped close on her tiptoes as he guided her lips to his with a hand on the nape of her neck. The arm that slid around her waist was not possessive or violent, and the inward shiver that ran through her body as a result was a new sensation, prompting her to release her tentative grip of his clothes in favour of resting her hands on his shoulders, forearms laying across his collarbone and chest.

She had kissed before, willingly, so she knew how to respond to his lips and tongue, though the way it... explored, teasingly, not messily demanding entrance was a pleasant discovery.

"Take off your boots," an instruction, though softly given, merely a necessary action for what she was asking of him.

He lead her through a further layer of security in his private fort to quarters hidden from view of the main room. A fire warmed the bedroom, adorned with a rich rug that was a welcome change to her toes from the stone of the sanctuary. The deep red sheets on the bed were nothing less than she could have expected, the embroidered quilt being the hint of sophistication and respectable-birth that shrouded the assassin. On resuming their kiss she had grown bold, daring to try and lift his shirt. She found her self on the bed, devoid of her own upper garments instead.

Despite her tutor losing his control for a time, she received her biggest lesson from this indiscretion. His body heavy on hers, hands forceful, almost careless with her hair, arms, moving her where he wanted and exploring the flesh now on show, pushing down her laced pants and gripping her roughly as he did so, she pulled her limbs in close when able and went rigid. Even as he paused to remove his shirt she had lain still, closing her eyes when he moved her arms to pin them beside her head, unable to suppress a grimace as his legs parted hers. He noticed eventually.

"Matia." Drawn from her memories at the sound of her name, he realised his slip from her eyes, at this moment the eyes of a frightened and angry child. "You can tell me to stop. I am a friend, I would not wish for anything you do not desire."

After she learned her experience was relevant, things slowed down. The hands of a killer could be gentle, if intended. After a time she ventured, "I think I'm ready."

"No, you're not," and she learned that a killer's tongue could bring more than a death sentence, if intended.

Though superior in years and experience, Lucien was learning a few things himself from this encounter with his sister in darkness, the new head of his order. She appeared far from that now, timid in some actions, almost shy in her responses, then asking why anyone would want to do that, and thanking him most enthusiastically for enlightening her. But it had been a long time since he had held a willing woman in his arms, much less one who had come to him, or at least since he had the pleasure without any ulterior motive; he wasn't averse to arranging for a little extra enjoyment to be forthcoming before the joy of the kill, if the mood struck him.

As she had looked back at him when he called her name, fear and hate in her eyes, he remembered this was his sister, a friend, even, not somebody he was merely using for his own amusement. The look itself was not shocking to him- he saw it in the eyes of those he sent to Sithis often- but he felt something he supposed was guilt for hurting this one. She had been through much already, and that which they had faced together had forged bonds that he did acknowledge were strong.

As she looked up at him in wonder and elation at the things he was doing to bring such pleasures she did not know she could reach through the act to which she had been so abruptly introduced, something deep in him stirred. Ego, perhaps; to conduct the ecstatic screams of a woman with the precision of a maestro was always pleasing, and maybe it felt good to still have something to teach this one that had surpassed him in rank so swiftly, though he would not consciously say that was the case. Something else, then, that made him want to satisfy her then hold her close, this young thing writhing beneath him, smiling thanks for giving her some memories of an intimate nature other than the only one she held previously.

As they lay still, in silence once more, the young Listener appearing content, her Speaker voiced a thought, pregnant with intent. "Tell me the name of the one who did it."

She smiled lazily at him, eyelids opening heavily from her doze but eyes gleaming. "You don't need to do anything about him. He was my first in two ways." She paused, cryptic and dramatic- something else he'd taught her, it seemed. "I killed him about a year after," her grin widened, "then you showed up."

Lucien almost laughed, scrunching the fingers laced in his assassin's hair. Four times in one day must be a record.

~o-O-o~