I have to admit, I am deeply, deeply conflicted about the ending. I've written it. But now I'm considering doing an alternate ending. But I'm not even sure how that's going to work.

Anyway. This chapter takes place just after the Blood of a Daedra quest. Again, thanks to everyone for reading.

She spends the next two weeks scouring what feels like all of Cyrodiil, closing Oblivion gates and visiting Daedric shrines. When she returns to Cloud Ruler Temple at last, it is with an unusual lightheartedness that she has not felt since the Amulet slipped from her grasp—and a touch of smug satisfaction.

It is late. Martin is not in the main hall, though all his books and papers are there, spread across three tables; remembering what he told her the last time she arrived at such an hour, she smothers a grin and creeps around the back of the Temple to the living quarters. It is the work of a moment to slip past the guards and pick the lock on his door. Martin is facing away from her, bent over his desk—some last minute research, no doubt. She clears her throat loudly.

He leaps up and whirls around, and she is pleased to see that a dagger is in his hands. "Hello," she says.

"How did you get in?" he demands. Then, "Where have you been?"

She finds herself grinning despite herself. "Did you miss me?"

He puts down the dagger. In three quick strides he is across the room, and his hands are on her shoulders, pulling her up, and then she finds herself being crushed in a fierce hug. "I hoped you would come back," he says, holding her back at arm's length, his worried gaze on her face. "I thought—well. Have you forgiven me yet?"

"I came to apologize to you," she tells him. "I shouldn't have been so angry, when you were only trying to help—but," she adds hastily, because Martin looks as though he is about to speak, "I knew it wouldn't be that easy to earn your forgiveness. So I brought you a present."

Martin frowns, momentarily diverted. "A present? What—"

"Actually, three presents. But you only get to pick one."

"They're not stolen, are they?"

He looks so worried that she has to laugh. "No," she says. "They were rightfully earned and freely given. Do you want them or not?"

"I suppose so," Martin says, releasing her. Then, as she turns to dig through her pack, he asks, "How did you get in, anyway?"

"Sneaked past the guards and picked your lock," she says absently. "Get Jauffre to double the patrols in the north corridor, and put a sentry under your window. And for the love of the gods, change your locks—any street thief could have gotten in."

"You climbed in through the window?"

"No," she says patiently. "I sneaked past the guards in the north corridor. Here." She turns back to him, and places three packages in his arms. "Pick one."

He unwraps the first and holds it up against the light, blinking as though he cannot believe his eyes. "Azura's Star," he says slowly. "How did you get this?"

"I had to kill five vampires."

"How—" He shakes his head. "Never mind. But—"

"The other two," she reminds him.

Reverently, he sets the Star down on his bedside table. The second package is much smaller. "The Ring of Khajiti."

She grimaces. "An entire nest of necromancers."

The third package is the largest of the three. Martin's eyes widen in shock as he looks at it. "The Sanguine Rose," he says.

"Oh, that one was funny. See, Sanguine thought Countess Caro was too stuffy, so he had me cast Stark Reality on her at a dinner party, and—"

"Enough!" Laughing, Martin holds up his hand. "I can well imagine the consequences."

"You don't want to hear about Countess Caro?" She is a little disappointed. "That was the most interesting quest of all the three—"

Martin looks amused. "I am sure she is a lovely woman, but Countess Caro is someone else's wife. I don't believe the Count of Leyawin would appreciate me imagining his wife naked."

"Don't worry," she tells him cheerfully. "Everyone else in Cyrodiil already has."

"Ah. Well, I suppose that makes it all right, then." Her insides do a strange little flip when Martin smiles at her. "How did you know I needed a Daedric artifact?"

"I overheard you and Jauffre talking about it."

"Of course." He looks down at the staff in his hands. "Did you know—I never thought to see this again. I once possessed it, briefly…a lifetime ago, it seems now. To obtain it, and then give it up—I honor your dedication to our cause. I think…I think I will use this in the ritual. The world can do without the Sanguine Rose causing trouble."

"All right." She shifts a little, restlessly. "I'm sorry," she bursts out suddenly. "For losing the Amulet, and disappointing you—and then Baurus told me that you still needed my help, but I don't know if you do, and I've already failed you once—"

Martin touches her cheek. "So you thought you'd overcompensate by getting three Daedric artifacts instead of just one." His voice is kind.

"Well, yes," she admits. "But I'll understand if you want to send me away—"

"No." Martin is all seriousness now. "Don't go. I was wrong, you know. The Nine did send help—they sent you. You had the courage to save Kvatch and the selflessness to offer up the Sanguine Rose. I need you. Tamriel needs you."

"Oh."

"Promise me something."

Anything, she wants to say, but manages to bite her tongue before the word escapes. "Yes?"

"Don't take off again without letting me know."

She cannot resist teasing him. "So you did miss me, then."

Again that smile of his; again that odd flip of her insides. "Yes," Martin says. "Yes, I did."

--

Baurus grins at her the next time she sees him, on patrol through the Great Hall; Jauffre gives her a searching look when he comes to fetch her to close Bruma's oblivion gate. But neither of them say a word.

She is a little ashamed to discover that she is relieved. But still, she had not looked forward to a lecture on duty and faith and loyalty from either of them.

--

Martin shows her the Mysterium Xarxes later, and the small bits that he has managed to decipher. They pore over books together. Martin is surprised when he learns that she has trained a bit as a mage. "Is there anything else I should know about you?" he asks, jokingly. "Are you a priest as well? A Champion of the Imperial Arena? Princess of a foreign country?"

She smiles. "I brew an excellent Fatigue poison," she offers.

"An alchemist. I should have known."

She likes the way his eyes crinkle up at the corners when he smiles.