A/N: Wherein we learn more about Ceria... and perhaps Sans, though the saying that all legends or stories are loosely based in fact could be applied... perhaps. Anyways, as always, have a good day/night, and enjoy the chapter!

Chapter Three:

Ceria was having a nightmare. Her father was being sucked up into this swirling purple portal, and she couldn't save him. He screamed, unwilling to go into the portal, but the portal didn't care, and swallowed him anyway. Ceria reached out to him, tears in her eyes.

"Don't go, father! I'll save you! Please, don't leave me!"

She heard her mother's terrified voice. "Inigo! Hold on! I'm coming!" Ceria had never heard her mother so distraught before.

Inigo screamed one last time, before disappearing forever.

Ceria surged forward, as she watched her father drown in a purple swirling void. "No! Father!" She screamed, opening her eyes as she lunged out, lightning shooting out of her hand and arching across the room, scorching the walls.

Ceria sat, panting, as she slowly realized that that was just a dream. She buried her head in her arms, fur sparking as she cried. "Father…" she muttered into her arms. "Nine, does Vaermina truly hate me that badly, to torture me so?"

She sensed a presence, and stiffened as she heard Sans's voice softly murmur to her. "Bad dream?" She lifted her head to see the shorter skeleton kneel down next to her. "Don't worry, I understand." He glanced at the scorch mark on the wall. Lightning still sizzled and spat there. He whistled softly in appreciation. "You're powerful, I'll give you that, kid."

Ceria hung her head. "Father…" she whispered as she dug her head in her arms. Ceria started to cry, the vividness of her dream lingering in her mind.

Sans felt sorry for the kid. "Hey, it's alright. Hey, don't… don't start the waterworks, jeez." He sighed, not sure how to calm the child. He wasn't all that great with kids. "Uh… Did you ever have any pets?"

Ceria lifted her head, confused. "Once, yeah." She sniffed. "A fox named K'shar."

Sans blinked in surprise. A fox, as a pet? "K'shar, huh? Weird name, that. What inspired the name?"

Ceria looked down at the ground. "Uncle Hanzo's father was named K'shar. I think he was… One of the Suthay-Raht."

Sans nodded, although he had no idea what she meant by that. What was a Suthay-Raht? Did that make him special in some way?

Ceria took a deep breath. "Nine, I miss Uncle Hanzo. He may be… loud, but he was family… sort of."

Sans smiled at Ceria, while inside he turned her words over. Is Nine considered a profanity where she's from, or is she referring to her deities? "Maybe you'll see him again. Perhaps even sooner than you think." He really hoped that today he could find her parents and take her home. Perhaps she was with the Temmies? Sans had to admit, she did sort of resemble one.

Ceria turned to Sans, her eyes wide with hope. "Really? Do you think so?" Sans nodded, happy to see the sparks fade from her fur. He started to realize that every time Ceria was upset, her fur would spark with lightning. Interesting concept, and one that Sans would keep in mind.

Ceria looked up, thoughtful. "Let's see. We're somewhere where it snows a lot… And there was a forest, I remember… We must be near Dawnstar, right? Then, Milara Tebris should be around, and she can bring me back home!" She glanced at Sans, hope shining in her eyes. Sans had a thoughtful frown on his face as he slowly shook his head.

"I… Don't think I've heard of this Dawnstar, kiddo. And who's this Milara Tebris you mentioned?"

Now it was Ceria's turn to frown. She turned, her tail swishing as she thought of how to answer. "Dawnstar… Is a hold within Skyrim, yes? And Milara Tebris is… Infamous for being almost godlike, actually." She twitched. "There are rumors around Whiterun saying that she's a Vampire, but I don't believe them. After all, her brother is part of the Dawnguard, who hunt Vampires."

Sans sat down beside her. "I can tell this is going to take a while, but... I have a few hours to kill, yet." He sighed. "So, kiddo. I can tell you're not from around here. Do… Do you live on the Surface?"

Ceria nodded, frowning. "Yes, of course. Only bandits and the like lurk underground. As well as skeletons, draugr, Dragon Priests, and other creatures that Mother and Father hunt down."

Sans hummed thoughtfully. "Your parents… What are their names?"

Ceria blinked. No-one had ever asked for her parents' names before. "Mother… Her name is Nightshade. Father is called… Inigo."

Sans nodded. That was what he had expected. "Alright. Uh… What do your parents do? You know, for a living?"

Ceria leaned away from him in surprise. No-one had asked her that before, either. "Umm… Mother is part of the Thieves Guild, I think. And the Dark Brotherhood. Father, well… He was a mercenary, but now he's settled down some, and works as a liaison between Whiterun and the trade caravans."

Sans frowned. "Hold up, kiddo. The Thieves Guild? You saying your mom's a thief?" He was surprised, to say the least.

Ceria blinked, and nodded. "Yes. She told me that she never wants me to be like her, though. She knows it's wrong, but she does it anyhow. She will not tell me why."

Sans sat back, a headache starting to arise. Looks like there's more to this kid than meets the eye, huh? He sighed, rubbing his bony temples. "And your dad… You say he was a mercenary? Like, the kind who would take money to go beat up a group of people?"

Ceria nodded. She glanced at the ceiling, thoughtful. "Before that, he was a bandit. Addicted to Skooma, he told me. And before that, he was trained as an assassin. Not really part of the Dark Brotherhood, though. Just a branch-off who were just in it for the gold."

Sans held up his hand. "Whoa, there, kiddo. One step at a time. So, he was a bandit? You mean, like the kind who rob people?" Ceria nodded. "And your dad was addicted to… What was it?"

"Skooma. Khajiit refine it from Moon Sugar, I think. Father told me to never go near the stuff. Uncle Hanzo once used Skooma, I think. Or was it Moon Sugar?"

Sans shook his head, letting out a low whistle. "Your family is worse than mine, I have to admit. Bandits, thieves, mercenaries, assassins, and drugs. Not a good recipe for a healthy childhood, I have to admit."

Ceria crossed her arms in protest. "Hey, there's some good! Mother is Dragonborn, and helped save the world from Alduin. Father saved an Argonian family from a nest of giant spiders, once. And Uncle Hanzo is part of the Companions, who protect Skyrim from bad people."

Sans scratched his head. Who was this Alduin? And what are Argonians? Giant spiders sounded a whole lot like Muffet and her gang, though. "That's… Nice, I guess. But still, kid. You're like, what? Six? Seven?"

Ceria shook her head. "I'm ten winters old. Father says that when I have my thirteenth winter, he'll let me go to Winterhold, and start training with the Mages there." She looked at the ground, feeling slightly ashamed. "Maybe they'll help me learn to control my spark-ups," she said softly.

Sans softened as he took in the image of a small white fur-ball who had problems controlling her magic. He lifted his arm in a comforting gesture. "Hey, kid. It's alright. We all have bad days when magic is involved. It's… Sort of part of magic. It's not very consistent."

Ceria sighed, studying her feet. "But… But my magic shouldn't react like this. A full lightning cloak that activates whenever I get upset. That's what Mother says my magic is like. And I have lots of power for a Khajiit. But I'm bad at controlling it. I almost hit you, when I woke up, didn't I? I'm sorry about that, by the way."

Sans shrugged. "Eh, you didn't hit me, and that's what's important. Although… Trying to explain this one to Paps is going to be fun, I can tell." He frowned. Ceria sighed.

"But… I'm not supposed to be so… Archmage Luna said that mages don't develop lightning aptitude until they're… Older than me. And I've… I've hurt people before, on accident, with my powers. I don't like it, and I just want to be normal. Is that so hard?"

Sans sighed. How was he going to calm the kid down enough to get her back to sleep? Maybe a bedtime story? Would that work on the kitten, like it always does for Papyrus? "Hey, kiddo. Why don't you lay back down, and I'll tell you a little story. That be alright?"

Ceria looked at Sans, before shrugging, and lying back down. Sans settled in, grumbling a little. What story should he tell?

"Alright. There once was a monster, a wee little thing, barely a year old. He had enormous power for one so young, able to summon bones already, although they only did one damage. His father knew that something was wrong, as monsters of that age shouldn't be able to use magic like that. So he started to do research, to try to see if someone like his young son had gone through this before. Meanwhile, the little monster got a new brother, who wasn't nearly as gifted with magic as he was."

Ceria frowned, questions forming in her mind, but Sans held up a bony finger, silencing her questions before she could even ask. She settled back with a huff, her magic starting to settle as she calmed. Sans smiled slightly as the lightning around her faded. His story was working after all.

"One day, the little monster's father called him into his office, excited. The father told the little monster that he had found a way to dampen the kid's magic, and that all the little monster had to do was go into this little room and stand very still. The little monster didn't know what to think. He liked having magic, and it was fun to play with, but his father loved him and only wanted the best for him, right? The little monster backed away, refusing to dampen his magic. The father was unhappy with the choice his son had made, but decided to let the kid be. Soon after, the little monster learned how to control his powers, and used them for good, and to keep his little brother out of trouble. And all was right with the world. The end."

Sans looked up from his hands, which he'd been staring at as he told his little story. Ceria was fast asleep, curled in a little ball. He smiled to himself. "Goodnight, little monster." He then yawned, getting up as quietly as possible. He looked at the clock. I've got a couple hours left before I have to be up. He dragged himself up the stairs towards his room. He looked back as he crossed the threshold, taking one final look at the white kitten before he shut the door and went to bed.