Author's Note: So I posted all three of these at once because I don't want to write Stonebriar anymore and these were the last finished chapters I have. Sorry. I know it sucks, but I really only started writing this so I could break a writer's block and now that it's broken, I'd like to get back to my books. I'll probably finish it sometime though.

Stonebriar

Chapter Seven

*

Eloe woke up a few hours after dawn and promptly buried herself under a pillow. She did not want to get up. She definitely didn't want to get up and face her assassin first thing in the morning. She just wasn't up for the smug looks and sexual innuendo. There were far more important matters to concern herself with at the moment. Like the reason she'd been neglecting her more complex potion orders in favor of smashing berries so she didn't have to worry about singing her eyebrows when Lucien smirked at her over his book. Recently he'd taken to reading the Lusty Argonian Maid while shooting pointed glances in her direction and if Eloe were honest, she rather enjoyed the attention.

She knew better though. While her bed was especially big these days and her covers rather cold, getting involved with an assassin was not about to fix that. He'd be good for a night or two certainly, but those few nights would jeopardize the rest of her life. There was no telling what sort of horrible… people, for lack of a better word, were following him and really the sooner she got him back up and on his feet the better.

It was a blessing then that he was healing so fast. Already she had more magic of her own to spare, Lucien beginning settling nicely back into his body as he began making his own magic again. It was a relief, she insisted despite niggling doubts to the contrary. Captain Steffan had taken the better part of two months to get back on his feet and he'd been…

He'd been sharing her bed.

Eloe sighed, wondering if her assassin would be especially put out were she to suddenly smother herself with a pillow. It'd be a service to Cyrodiil, really. A woman with her gift—with her responsibilities—pining away after a man who wanted less than nothing to do with her like some girl just filling out her skin.

But then that wasn't exactly true. It wasn't him she was pining after. They'd separated rather less than amicably over a year ago and she was far too practical to hope or even want a reunion with him. No, it was his warmth she missed. It was having someone there to fill the empty spaces. It was having someone she could speak her mind to without worrying about mindless rumors. If she were completely honest with herself, it was waking up next to someone she could stand the sight of she missed the most.

It was strange being so lonely. She'd spent the majority of her life being the outsider, drifting from place to place with no connections to tie her down. And she'd made friends along the way—she wasn't an irredeemable social pariah—but leaving them behind had never bothered her. But somehow now, waking up alone, going through her days alone, without even Perennia to drop by…

Perhaps that was why her assassin had her so charmed. And she knew better than to return his idle flirting, but it'd been ages since she'd had anyone to flirt with and longer still since there'd been intelligent conversation involved.

Eloe closed her eyes, wishing she knew what her assassin was even doing here. Something immense was brewing—an uneasy energy hanging in the air like a summer storm's first threat—and there wasn't a doubt in her mind that Lucien was at the center of it. Her too now that she'd dragged him back in the world of the living. Whatever was tipping the balance of power involved them both. And Arkay… Arkay was only watching. He was never the most communicative of gods, but usually he sent some sort of oblique sign. A flower blooming in the snow, an unexpected child with an interesting birthmark—something. Not now. Now it felt as though he were waiting for something. Waiting and watching to see what his flock would do. And Eloe had the distinct impression she was being tested but she hadn't the faintest idea what to do.

Which probably meant she needed to visit the Chapel of Arkay in Cheydinhal, but the city was a lifetime away and—was that coffee she smelled?

Thoughts drifting away from her like daydreaming rabbits, Eloe emerged from her smothering cocoon. She definitely smelled coffee. Well, that was certainly enough to get her out of bed at least. Smiling to herself and pointedly ignoring the fact that she was no doubt about to walk into a conversation laden with sexual suggestion and far more intelligent quips than she could compete with this early in the morning, Eloe slipped on her robe and wincing at the feel of the cold floor on her bare feet, made her way out into the kitchen.

*

Lucien scanned the newspaper with little interest, far more concerned with the date than a rain of burning dogs in some backwater little town. He'd lost almost two weeks. Two weeks and he still didn't know if his Silencer was even alive, let alone whether or not she'd been able to find and destroy the traitor. He hoped the Cheydinhal sanctuary was still barricaded, at least. He'd ordered Vicente to hold the door until he returned, but if the vampire had heard of his death…

Lucien sighed and let the newspaper fall to the table, running fingers through his newly cropped hair. He needed to get back but he knew damn well he might as well kill himself as leave now. Climbing up the stairs this morning had winded him. The likelihood of his even surviving the ride to Cheydinhal in his condition was slim. Not that current company left anything to be desired. The woman was a mystery—closed off one minute and mischievously charming the next.

And, he noted with a smirk, currently making a bee line for the coffee in a robe that likely predated civilization.

"I must say, my dear, you look absolutely stunning in the morning."

Eloe glanced at him as she took a mug from the hearth, hair sleep tousled into a mane around her head, circles under her eyes glaring in the morning light. All in all, she looked like someone who had recently contracted rabies from a vampire. But Lucien smiled brightly nonetheless, tried to look more sincere than amused and reached for his own coffee.

"You know," she said, pulling a tiny silver bowl of sugar cubes from the standing cabinet, "I was fairly certain the phrase bed rest involved a bed."

Lucien laughed and leaned back, watching as Eloe took a sip of still steaming coffee and closed her eyes in bliss.

"I'm afraid I've never been the sort to stay in bed without a reason," he purred, watching the motion of her throat as she swallowed. "Though if you were to take it on yourself to convince me…"

Eloe looked up at him and there was a spark in her eyes he found decidedly attractive. She actually looked as though she were considering it.

"No," she said at last. "The last man to offer me that keeled over from exhaustion and I don't want to have to wrestle you into the wheelbarrow again."

And he tried to keep a straight face to that, he really did. But his prim and proper priestess said it as though she were commenting on the weather and Lucien wasn't entirely sure whether to laugh or press her against the wall and see just what she was hiding under that threadbare robe.

*

Somewhere between last night and waking up to the smell of coffee, Eloe distinctly remembered promising herself she would not flirt with assassins. Especially not assassins that looked far too tempting in clothes Steffan had left behind half a lifetime ago, sitting at her kitchen table and watching her as though she really were stunning first thing in the morning. Because she was a grown woman and as a grown woman, she knew that flirting with assassins was pretty high up there on the list of stupid ideas. And beyond that, she had work to do—probably even had places to be—but it was getting pretty damn hard to think with him sitting there oozing sex at her and oh sweet Arkay he was standing up.

"Is that so?" he purred and Eloe hid her sudden blush behind her coffee cup, wondering if she could drink all of it in one go if it would spare her looking at that smirk. "Because I was rather under the impression that you were the one to last… keel over from exhaustion, as it were."

I will not flirt with assassins, she thought with a force of will usually reserved for childbirth. I will not flirt with assassins.

"Is that the Black Horse Courier?" she asked, sidling past him for the kitchen table in what was absolutely not a retreat. "They usually deliver the weekly on Mondas."

And she could feel Lucien's amused smirk burning a hole in her back but Eloe refused to turn around. If she turned around, she'd end up meeting his gaze. And if she met his gaze, she'd end up sending him unconscious messages like want to find out how sturdy my table is and that was not the sort of thing that would be at all good for her peace of mind.

"It was rather interesting, actually," he murmured and she hadn't heard him move but suddenly he was right behind her, his breath caressing her neck, long fingers curling around her waist. "A whole town aflame."

I will not flirt with assassins… only there was something in the way he said aflame that sent shivers skittering down her spine and Eloe turned just to feel those fingers stroke a line of fire through the fabric of her robe. That wicked mouth of his was curling in one corner but she found herself ignoring the challenge of it in favor of imaging the way he'd taste. And it was a bad idea. She knew it was a bad idea even as his other hand cupped her cheek, burning like a brand into her skin and she wanted so badly just to lean in…

Until some fetching idiot knocked on the fetching door.

Eloe sprang back like she'd been burned—and she almost felt as though she had—trying to force her hair into some semblance of order as she hurried for the door.

You do not flirt with assassins! an inner voice was berating her. Take this as an unusually specific sign.

"Eloe," Lucien started behind her, and she paused before she could open the door, realizing in the back part of her mind that it was the first time he'd addressed her by name since she'd brought him here.

The bemused lust was gone from his face however, replaced with a dangerous, calculating look that made her realize just how vulnerable she was.

"What?" she snapped to hide her sudden burst of fear. "Somebody needs me."

He pursed his lips, looking deadly and Eloe remembered the wisdom in I will not flirt with assassins.

"Idiot child, do you have any idea who's waiting out there?"

Irritation flared and Eloe abruptly forgot how deadly he was, focusing instead on the fact that she held his life in her hands.

"Idiot child?" she asked quietly, anger waiting just beneath the surface like an ancient slaughterfish. "I'm at least as old as you are, Lucien, and might I remind you just how much you owe me?"

"And when an assassin comes barreling through those doors after me, then what?" he growled. "Will you simply convince them to leave with your no doubt exceptionalconversational capabilities?"

The knock came again, far more urgent this time and Eloe turned away from him to cast a quick detect life.

"It's Honmund," she snapped, recognizing the breadth of his shoulders through the wood of the door. And then, wrenching it open, "What's happened?"

The Nord shifted anxiously, casting his eyes back over his shoulder.

"It's Alga. She's had another of her fits and Cirroc hasn't come back from the Imperial City."

This, at least, she knew how to deal with.

"Run back, I'll follow as soon as I'm dressed. Just make sure she doesn't try to claw out her eyes again."

"Isa's with her now." It was odd seeing such a huge man so distraught. "She's not sure if she should charm her."

"Something small. Just keep her as still as you can until I get there."

"Yes, ma'am," he said and turned, leaping onto the bare back of his borrowed horse. Eloe closed the door as he flew off towards the gate, barely noting the way Lucien watched her, sitting at the table with an unreadable look in those dark eyes of his.

There was far too much to be done. She didn't have time to stop and argue about whether or not she'd made a terminal mistake bringing him here. The last thing Eloe wanted to do today was spend an hour putting Isa's eyes back in her head. Dressing with a speed born of long practice, Eloe grabbed her rough leather bag up from its place by the door and flew out to the stable.

*

Lucien watched her go, waiting for the sound of hoofbeats to fade into the distance before he rose and locked the door. It would do little enough good if the Black Hand came to find him, but at least it bought him time to escape. Aching and irritated, Lucien sunk back into his chair at the kitchen table, cooling coffee in hand. He couldn't stay here any longer. While his priestess made for an interesting distraction and he was grateful to be alive again, it was far too dangerous to remain here for any longer than was absolutely necessary. It was painfully obvious she was the sort of woman who'd open the door for Mehrunes Dagon if he smiled and said please and with the people out for his blood, that was not a risk he could take.

Finishing his coffee, Lucien pushed himself up from the table to search the carefully arranged barrels, chests and cabinets throughout the room. He needed something for luck, strength and the speed of a god. And Eloe had warned him away from anything that restored magicka when he'd asked—something about regaining power without the strength to bind it—but he couldn't wait any longer. Lucien relit the fire in the grate, feeling like time was slipping away from him.

Whatever it was he was late for, Lucien had a feeling he'd been late a long, long time.

*

Eloe flew to Bruma, making a mental inventory of everything she'd need and everything she had while trying not to think of what an idiot she was. And she almost wished she had an excuse for it. It'd certainly been a long time since she'd felt comfortable letting any man into her house, but that was no reason to start kissing assassins. Thank Arkay for Alga's visions. Eloe would be grateful for the distraction even if it turned out she'd only had a vision of the sheep in Skingrad. It wouldn't be the first time she'd rode all the way out simply to listen to prophesies about ewes rampaging through the tomato patch. Though all the times Alga had ever mentioned Skingrad, she was fairly certain it was not a place she ever wanted to go.

Leaving Millie in the horse corral, Eloe darted inside the city and into Honmund's house, freezing at the sound of Alga's rough hewn scream. In the breath of a second she was barely veiled behind a wall of boulders, watching four black shadows circle in on a fifth. And she hadn't been there—it hadn't happened like that—but she could see blood billowing from his robes as he cried out in pain, eyes locked to hers, accusing--

"You're here!" Honmund's pleased and vaguely panicked cry broke her from the illusion and Eloe offered him a brittle smile.

"How long has she been convulsing?" she asked and turned the corner of the strange little house, making her way into the bedroom. Alga's fists were clenched a bloodless white on the sheets, her face ghostlike and contorted with someone else's pain.

"Almost twenty minutes now," Isa told her with the calm of a priestess.

This, at least, she could deal with. She knew how to mend and sooth people—knew what to say and how far to trust what she was told. Far simpler than keeping a handsome killer as a pet, dreaming of his death the same night she dreamed of pinning him to the bed.

"Good," she said, taking a bottle and dropper from her bag. "The visions should come soon, then."

The covers had all been thrown from the bed with the force of Alga's tossing. Eloe stepped around them with the dropper in hand, paralyzing the woman just long enough to slip three drops of calm beneath her tongue. She started thrashing again immediately, but sagged against the bed after a long moment, eyes fluttering open though their color was missing.

"Alive in there?" Eloe asked softly, soothing her hair back from her face and pressing a spell into her skin as Isa slumped back into her chair, exhausted from holding the woman down.

"Something is wrong," Alga whispered, old Skyrim accent casting an eerie hollowness to her words. "Black. Midnight without a moon—cold as cloud scrapers."

A perfect, cloudless midnight...

Eloe stared down at the woman with her fluttering white eyes and felt as though she'd swallowed a frost spell. So she was not the only one. There were others who felt the change in balance. And how many of those others realized just what it was they were feeling? Sithis. Her assassin.

Sweet Arkay…

"Everything is falling."

Honmund stirred from his anxious pacing by the fire and came to take his lover's hand, warming her cold fingers between his own.

"This is stupid," he muttered, casting an anxious glance back at Eloe. "Can't you make her stop?"

Eloe shook her head, feeling suddenly very far away.

"It has to run its course," she murmured, even as Alga began to speak again.

"No one knows which way the world goes. Mountains are tumbling from the sky. Something is sick. Everything is sick. Wrong. The order is gone. The gods are watching." She was quiet a moment, looking around the room with eyes that couldn't see. "The gods are gone."

Silence fell on the room. Isa clasped her hands in her lap and began to pray, whispering soft entireties to Talos. Honmund only sat with his heavy jaw clenched, gripping Alga's hand between his own as Eloe leaned against the wall, her head spinning.

Lucien was using magic. She could feel it winding out from her like an unstrung ball of yarn, beckoning her back to Stonebriar with the edge of a soft demand.

"Lover's touch," Alga whispered and for a moment Eloe almost agreed, feeling the brush of ghostly fingers against her stomach as the magic wound out of her. "Too much blood to bleed. Too much life to live. Haywire. Chaos is fragmenting. Daedra waging war against nothing, fighting against the past. Too many souls to keep. We're falling. End over end and no one realizes anything until it's too late and there's always time to stop it but no one's thought to turn back the clocks."

She slumped against the pillows and closed her eyes, heaving deep, unsteady breaths as Honmund pulled her into a one-armed hug. After a long moment she managed an exhausted smile and opened her eyes to look up at Eloe.

"Your mother's coming," she croaked, her voice broken and vaguely amused. "Funny how that's the only picture that made sense, eh?"

…her mother?

Eloe blinked, the words sinking in like frozen honey.

Her mother was coming here? On one of her bloody minded unannounced attempts to convince her into having babies with the next male to cross her path? While her assassin was still in the house?

"Oh bugger."