"I know that you are here, little cat's paw of the Septims. There is no use hiding from me."

I emerge from the shadows at the entrance, bow drawn taut with my arrow aimed directly at Camoran's heart. He is rising from his throne now, the Amulet of Kings hung about his neck catching the light from the windows. My string draws back farther. He scoffs, and his three followers laugh. "You truly are a fool, a sacrificial pawn of the aedra. My Father has brought me to immortality in His limitless ambition. Your man-made weapon will not harm me."

"That may be your opinion, but just by believing it wholeheartedly you do not make it true."

"The same could be said of you, little pawn. You are the last gasp of a dying age. You breathe the stale air of false hope. How little you understand! You cannot stop Lord Dagon. The walls between our worlds are crumbling. Soon, very soon, the lines now blurred will be erased. Tamriel and Oblivion rejoined! Lord Dagon shall walk Tamriel again!"

My arm is trembling from the exertion, but my aim is still steady on Camoran. The Altmer sweeps into a low bow and draws up his staff. "My long duel with the Septims is over, and I have the mastery. The Emperor is dead. The Amulet of Kings is mine. And the last defender of the last ragged Septim stands before me, in the heart of my power. Let us see who at last has proved the stronger!"

I dart to the left as Camoran sends a blizzard spell from his staff, drawing my bow back and hitting the heart of one Mythic Dawn member who goes down instantly. I drop Shadowrend and the Ebony blade rings out just in time to block an enchanted dagger. The wielder dies before he can swing again. I cut to the right when a fireball zooms just past my temple, picking up the dropped dagger and throwing it into the magic-wielding follower.

Camoran, blind from all the fanatic lies he'd dwelled in for so many years, does not hesitate to send a vicious lightning spell at me, which I sidestep easily. I've killed enough mages to know that in close range, they are helpless.

He is rash in his believed immortality, so I am rash in my attack. The Ebony Blade rings out, and I sprint head-on at him. He does not have time to charge up another spell, and so my blade cuts through him without any resistance. The fool does not even wear armor.

The second he falls, I am unclasping the Amulet of Kings from his neck. The world is rocking violently, sights around me melting and dissolving. Much like a Gate after I've closed it, I'm blinded, sucked into the end of a realm, plummeting from it into another.

I drop to my hands and knees as the portal shrivels up behind me, gasping for air. I've done it. I've retrieved the Amulet.

When I look up, Martin is kneeling to face me, a wondrous sight after Paradise. All the anger I'd felt about his wedding before I stepped into the portal is gone now, with only the misery still lurking there.

But we are alone in the great hall of the temple, and he threads his fingers through my tangled hair with the same look he'd had out by the lookout tower in the snow. "I should never be surprised when you return successful," he murmurs. "Yet I cannot help but feel sick with worry whenever you are away from me."

I reach up and press the Amulet into his hand before looking directly into his eyes. "Why didn't you tell me?" I'm dismayed to hear my own voice sounding so weak, but I have to ask him now, while I have the courage.

I do not need to elaborate. He already knows what I ask of, and he breathes in while he pockets the Amulet. "I only learned when Jauffre told me about the invitations. I don't wish to do it, but it's a marriage in name only. You know how dearly I love you-"

"But that does not make it acceptable." I stand abruptly to my feet, and he mirrors me.

"Of course it doesn't!" He is fervent now. "But all the Blades tell me it is the only thing that will cause each ruler to accept me. As Emperor, I must have their allegiance."

There's no point in arguing with him, because he's right. I know it as well as he. I also know that what he said is true: he does love me- as much as I do him, if not more. But if these things would come to pass, it could only mean...

Feeling ill, I ask him in a cold, dead voice, "When this is all over, and you wed Narina and ascend to rule, then what will I become? Your…mistress, of sorts?"

All the color drains from Martin's face. He has ever been honest, so I know he will not adorn the truth with anything false and comforting. "In how I treat you, how I love you, no. In what citizens will believe, yes. Of sorts."

I'd been expecting this answer already. The two of us are aware of how we need each other, so going our separate ways after we seal Oblivion is impossible, inconceivable. If the both of us survive, we will have to be together. There is no way around it.

And so it comes to this. I will be the 'other woman,' a commoner the Emperor was ensnared by in the chaos of saving the realm, who takes him away from Bruma's own dear, brave, strong Narina. Old women will scorn me as I walk past, young women will gossip behind cupped hands, whispering of me, the tainted mistress of Martin Septim, following in his father's example with illegitimate children.

Martin's grasping my upper arms now, firm and adamant, warring with the image of the future in my mind's eye. He is warm and handsome and real, and he loves me. "I would never think of you in that way. You are my superior, the better part of me and the best part of my life. I know it will be hard for you, but there's no other way. It's true that others will misunderstand, or look down on us, but I swear to be with you every day telling you otherwise, showing you how much I honor you."

Stendarr have mercy on me. The future is becoming hazy, irrelevant. I wouldn't have my dignity, but I'd have Martin...and he is here now, unlike the disapproving stares and citizen gossip we'd endure. Was he not worth it all?

"No." The word is thrown from me, flung from out of all my own resistance.

He's shaking his head in disbelief, anguished. "Please, dear one. You-"

"I cannot," I choke out. "If there is no other way, then it will not occur at all."

"But we must," he replies in a soft tone. "Don't you see? Our lives changed when we learned of each other. When you met my father and began to seek me, you were a Black Hand member in prison. Now you are a hero to the Divine. I was a farmer's son, a mere monk, no one before. When you found me, I became the heir to the throne. In the lives we live now, in the lives we will have once this ends, we are a vital part of each other. We must."

His mouth is on mine now, and I surrender. Even if I won't change my mind, I want all of him for as long as I can before everything changes. Each moment with him must be enough to take me through the rest of my life.

He deepens the kiss, pressing me to him hard enough to take the breath from my body. I try to pull him back to me when he lifts his head, but he stops me with a finger to my lips. "Whatever happens, I won't leave you. If we're separated, I'll find you somehow, no matter where I have to look." His voice drops to a whisper. "So stay."

Instead of speaking, I reach up to lace my fingers into his. When he steps away and pulls me toward him, I follow. We walk out into the cold night briefly before passing into the hall leading to his bedroom, where he envelops me in his arms again and shuts the door behind us.

Just for tonight, I let him win, so that we do not have to consider the decisions we will need to make later on. Just for tonight, we can pretend that none of it need happen, and nothing: not other people, not leadership, not death, can end us. Just for tonight, I can yield to him completely, before war and politics can take him away from me.