Title: Mourner's Dawn
Pairing: Lucien Lachance/OMC
Disclaimer: I don't own Elder Scrolls.
Summary: Without him, they'd be nothing. Without them, he would still be alive. They should have known better. Lucien does not pick his silencers idly.
Author's Note: When you open up the cheat console, press on a dead character and type resurrect, they… well… resurrect. What if that cheat was really a spell, a rare ability to call spirits back to their own body? Resurrection without necromancy, as it were.
What if it worked on Lucien?
Dialogue will not be the same for two reasons. One, copying from the game is boring. And two, I don't remember most of it. XD
Sam stopped short upon entering the cabin, the burlap sack dropping from his hand.
He didn't see the head roll out across the floor, to bump fleshy, rotting lips with Bellamont's shoe. Just at that moment, he saw only the ravaged corpse hanging from the ceiling, battered past recognition.
He should have been angry, furious. Should have raged against them, threw down the head and journal as proof. Should have ordered a Purification of his own. They already thought him mad, eccentric. Lucien had controlled him.
Only Lucien. And Lucien was dead.
He could kill them. All of them. After all, he'd killed the others. Couldn't he manage this as well?
revenge revenge revenge revenge
The never-ending litany poured through every crevice of his being. And then the rage began to bubble, slowly, quietly in the center of his being. His face changed ever so slightly, a dangerous glint in the eyes, features just a little more like stone.
Only Lucien would have noticed. And Lucien was dead.
"You don't need to worry, you know," Arquen chatted on cheerfully. "Everyone knows you were simply following orders, and the real traitor's already been dealt with."
You have no idea what you've done.
"As you were the traitor's Silencer, it only makes sense for you to take his place."
You lot can't be that strong. Took all of you to kill Lucien. He'll have weakened you. I could do it… I could do it.
"We go now to ask the Night Mother for guidance in this dark time. Once there, she will promote one of us to Listener as…" and here she grew uncomfortable, "as Ungolim lays dead by the traitor's command."
It wouldn't take much to drop you. You're exhausted. It's there in the slump of your shoulders. As for your boys… Lightning. I can drop a daedra at fifty yards, I can kill them.
"Return here at dark and we'll travel together to the Dark Mother's lair."
I can salvage this, Lucien. I can save you.
"Sam?" She leaned down to put a hand on his shoulder. "Are you alright?"
He jerked away at the touch, glaring.
"Don't touch me."
But the woman only laughed and pulled away.
"Oh, you're every bit Lucien's toy, aren't you? Just like him… only shorter."
Look down at me much more and I'll stab you through the gut. I'm sure Sithis won't grieve much.
He realized his silence wasn't helping matters. Not that speaking his mind would earn their praise. He was walking a thin line, having served a traitor. It was possible to be tainted, wasn't it? He could have known everything. He could have killed them for love…
"You needn't grieve for him, you know," she added softly. "He wasn't worth your loyalty."
Sam clenched his hands behind his back. He couldn't start a fight here. His magic was wild, and Lucien was already damaged enough.
"Perhaps." His voice was choked, rough. "But I don't believe it."
"The proof is there," she said, shocked that anyone could doubt it. "What's not to believe?" And then it sunk in some. "Oh, I see. You were close," she pronounced the word carefully, with no small measure of pity. "I assure you, Sam, there is no way he could be innocent."
"Innocent?" Sam snorted. "Innocence is relative."
"I… suppose that's one way of looking at it."
Angrily, he swiped a hand through sweat streaked red hair and turned to look up at her.
"At least let me take him down."
"No." It was Bellamont now, vaguely distracted as he picked his way past the rotten head. "He deserves to hang there and rot."
"Control yourself, Samwane." Lucien's voice hissed in his ear. "Easy now. It's not as though I'm going anywhere, am I?"
"He was my Speaker."
"And that, my pet, is my traitor. See the way Bellamont watches the head you've so kindly provided? Even if the reason why eludes me."
"No, Mathieu is right." The second man, one whose name he didn't know. "Traitors deserve no kindness in life or death."
And then, without warning, he keeled over as if punched in the gut. The pain apparently refused to lessen, as he staggered outside soon after, the sound of his retching drifting into the house.
"I'd do more," the feeling of cold fingers across the back of his neck. "But they've tired me out."
Slowly, Sam smiled. He wasn't losing his mind. He couldn't be. Lachance simply knew him well enough not to leave just yet. Or perhaps he only wanted revenge. Either way…
Sam barely came up to Lucien's shoulder when he was alive and well— the curse of a Bosmer. Now, with him hanging a good three feet above the ground, there was no way he was going to reach the rope that bound him.
Leaping up on the nearby dresser, he was just able to loosen it, slowly lowering his mentor to the ground.
Laughter then, barely heard, a silver whisper on the wind.
"How refreshing. You couldn't possibly damage me any more and yet you still show such reverence! I knew my trust in you was well placed."
Sam clenched his teeth against the rage and depression that had wedged itself beneath his breastbone. Carefully, he lifted the corpse from the ground and settled it into the old woman's bed. Lucien was a mess. It'd take days to fix all this.
"He's a work of art, really." Bellamont murmured, coming to stand beside him. "The cuts and gouges add something to the mystique of it all, if you ask me."
"I'm going to give you ten seconds," Sam growled. "And if you aren't across the room by then, I'm going to throw that head of yours into the fire."
"Head? What… what head? Mine? Well, that's certainly an odd threat."
"Your mother's head, fetcher. Move."
"My... mother? I don't... Yes, well… alright then."
He stood there, leaned over the corpse, waiting to hear Mathieu's footsteps fade to the opposite wall. Only then did he begin to pick his way over Lucien's injuries.
The gaping hole where his cheek should be scared him. If he couldn't find the missing pieces…
"She tried to cut out my tongue. They'd already taken my… more important bits. I was bleeding out, but damned if I'd unclench my teeth."
Sam felt sick and half mad.
"I need to find your missing peices," he whispered.
"What good will it do?"
"I can fix this."
Soft laughter then, and a hand against his face.
There was silence for a long moment and then, a soft agreement.
"You can't look now. If they suspect anything, I fear you'll join me. And it's certainly not the cleanest death."
"They can't kill me."
A rough pressure like a hand seizing the scruff of his neck.
"Don't get cocky."
Sam attempted a smile, but it emerged as more a twisted grimace.
I can fix this. I can fix this. Don't break down in tears, you idiot. This can be mended.
The pressure drifted off and Sam started, alarmed.
"Hush." There was an infinite exhaustion in that whispered voice. "Let me sleep."
"You don't understand, Lucien." He kept his head down, so they wouldn't see him speaking to the air. "If you sleep, you'll drift—"
"Sam?" Arquen touched a hand to his shoulder, wary to disturb him from his fervent prayer. "It's time."