Y'all don't understand how fucked up Lucien gets me. I get thinking, then I get depressed and I write happy things to try and make it better.
The fire blazing in the hearth painted Fort Farragut's walls a warm orange, creating a homey atmosphere in the otherwise dank sanctuary. The spacious room was home to the few things the owner found neccessary to keep on hand, scattered along dusty tables and bookshelves and thrown haphazardly in chests. The worn Brotherhood banners waved lightly in the chilly breeze flowing in through the halls, and Lucien Lachance found himself pulling his silencer impossibly closer to him as they rested on the old king bed.
Winter would be coming soon, the thought of crimson on the gliterring snow pulling a small smile from him, and he looked down at the woman/man resting on his chest. He was excited to see them paint the snow, wondered what kind of lovely art they would create. He leaned up on his elbows, stroking through the (race)'s hair. How lucky he was that he could be able to witness such a masterpiece.
The true masterpiece, though, was the (race) in his arms. He considered himself truly blessed by the dread lord. He had the Hero of Kvatch resting beside him, bare from their love making and completely vulnerable. The hero who had placed their trust and love in him.
A few days later, and his Silencer was to depart on a contract in Skingrad. He lead them outside, into the inner workings of the fort and presented to them a beautiful horse as dark as the void. "A token of my trust and love."