"Ah, there you are."

Aneril's back snapped straight, while Vareysa casually turned her gaze to watch the Queen stride down the hallway, towards where they stood waiting outside her temporary office in Castle Firsthold. They had been summoned here by Queen Ayrenn for reasons unknown, but given that they had faced down Kinlady Estre just the day before, Aneril guessed that the Queen might want a report on the battle…

Ayrenn smiled at them, her bright eyes carrying none of the gravity from the previous day.

…Or she might not.

The Queen beckoned, and they followed her through the door which an attendant had hastened to open, then shut with nary a sound behind their backs.

"I do apologise for making you wait, but Firsthold is in a complete mess, as you well know," Ayrenn sighed, reaching a hand up as if to touch her hair, and frowned when her fingers bumped into the crown instead. She came to a stop beside her desk, frown deepening briefly, then looked back at the two women standing before her. "Ah, yes. Aneril."

"Your Majesty."

"At ease, soldier," Ayrenn replied airily to the knee-jerk response, taking a seat behind the desk. "I have new orders for you. But before we start on that, I've a few questions I would like answered." She opened a desk drawer, rifling through its contents, and withdrew a sheaf of papers bound together by a string in the corner. Ayrenn skimmed through its contents quietly, then looked up at Aneril. "You have rendered exceptional service here in Auridon, and back in Khenarthi's Roost with Razum-dar. After I inducted you into the Eyes, Raz has assembled a dossier on you – which I have read, and found…interesting."

She set the dossier on the table, and leaned back in her seat. "It seems you were a captain of the Dominion, before your contingent went missing during a mission in Cyrodiil?"

Aneril grew cold. "Yes, Your Majesty."

"According to the records, you were to give aid to our soldiers stationed at a town near Bravil. But there was no further news after you were dispatched. What we found a month later, was the ruins of a ravaged town, littered with the bodies of Daedra and mortals alike. The only evidence of your contingent's presence, were the six bodies identified by their dog tags."

"That's all?" Aneril whispered, feeling the ground open up beneath her feet.

Ayrenn tilted her head slightly, sharp gaze taking in Aneril's stricken expression. "You didn't know."

"No. I had no way to check, not after…" Her voice wavered, then died away.

The Queen waited, but when Aneril didn't try to speak again, she continued, "Since that time, your record is a blank – you were presumed dead. But here you are, standing before me, alive and well. At a briefest glance, one would piece this information together and say that you managed to flee the destruction – or worse, deserted to escape certain death. But your recent deeds have proven a character indisposed to such actions, and I would rather hear an explanation from you, before jumping to conclusions."

"Your Majesty." Aneril steeled herself, then plunged into her tale. "We were answering a request for reinforcements, but we received word from the garrison again while we were on the road. They were under siege by members of the Worm Cult, so we doubled our pace to town…only to find it already half-destroyed." She shifted on her feet, hands clutching tighter behind her back. "Upon our arrival, it became obvious we were being lured into a trap. The cultists performed a ritual just as we began to fight back, and those of us who weren't dead were ripped from this world, and thrust into Coldharbour."

"Ah, yes. How the soul shriven come about," Ayrenn mused. "But you look well enough to me."

"I don't know how, but I survived with…my mind intact. I managed to escape, and ended up in Khenarthi's Roost where I first met Razum-dar." Aneril sighed heavily. "Your Majesty, I know this is hard to believe. But I swear to you, I am telling the truth."

"Relax, Aneril," Ayrenn laughed, waving a hand at her. "I do believe you. In times like these, tales such as yours are only becoming more commonplace." She stood, and rounded the table so she was facing Aneril directly. "Now, given your service record and history, and I am inclined to restore you to your former position, if you wish. Or, judging from the battles we've shared together, I know that you wield magic and blade well enough to join my Wings. Battlereeve Sielaire is looking for more capable soldiers to join her ranks, and I would be more than happy to assign you there."

"I…respectfully decline, Your Majesty." Aneril bowed her head, and explained simply, "I much prefer my role as an Eye."

"Of course. And I'm sure Raz will be pleased with your decision." Ayrenn smiled, then turned around to pick up the sheathed sword lying on her table, along with two small notes. She held the sword out to Aneril in both hands. "A gift, my friend – for your admirable service in Auridon. And this–" Ayrenn continued, handing a note to her. "–is a requisitions form that entitles you to anything you need from the armoury. I would suggest replacing…everything you have." She passed a bemused eye over Aneril's armour, thoroughly scratched and burnt, and missing its pauldrons.

"Thank you, Your Grace," Aneril said calmly, though she could feel her cheeks flush at the Queen's gentle tease.

"And now, the mystery that follows my distinguished agent." Ayrenn turned her attention to Vareysa, who had the courtesy to cover her look of boredom with a polite smile. "Vareysa – despite my agents' best efforts, your name has been the only thing they've managed to uncover about you. That either speaks to their capability, or the care you've taken to cover your tracks."

"I would say neither, Your Majesty," Vareysa said nonchalantly. "The only way you'll find out about me is if you send agents to Morrowind, and I imagine it's not worth risking your agents' lives just to dig into my unimportant history. Besides…" Her smile widened. "I'm glad that your people haven't stuck their noses where they don't belong…or could get cut off."

Aneril's eye twitched at her words, but Ayrenn let out a short laugh instead.

"I see. Be that as it may, I still wish to offer my thanks for your aid." Ayrenn handed her the second note. "This entitles you access to the Dominion's armoury as well. And I would suggest the both of you equip yourselves as best you can." She turned her gaze back to Aneril. "The king of the Wood Elves informs me that there's some manner of discontent in Elden Root, our capital city in Valenwood. I would like you to meet with the King, and work to end the discord. Once local matters are in hand, I'll meet you in Elden Root."

Aneril nodded. "Understood."

"I suggest that you head to Skywatch and look for Captain Jimila. I've heard she's a reliable captain with a fast ship. She can bring you to the port of Haven, just south of Elden Root. If she gives you trouble, tell her I sent you."

They went to the armoury that very day, where Vareysa scoffed at the array of Dominion-stamped armour, but picked up a new pair of daggers to replace hers, which had been half-melted by flame atronachs. She shot a few jibes at Aneril, who wore a sharp new suit of steel armour, but her prodding wasn't as incessant as before, mindful to give her companion some space. Aneril had fallen into a silent pall since their meeting with the Queen, her shoulders heavy from the weight of an answer that she…realised she'd been avoiding for quite some time.

Part of her had always suspected that her contingent didn't survive – she'd spotted too many familiar faces among the shackled prisoners to even hope that more than a handful had escaped with their lives. Perhaps some did, but she didn't want to entertain that notion anymore. As far as she was concerned, most of her soldiers were soulless slaves in Coldharbour now, and the rest were left as nothing more than corpses on Nirn – the lucky ones, as it were.

Aneril 'brooded quite zealously' – as Vareysa put it – for their entire journey to Skywatch, but she took a deep breath upon reaching the city's gates, and forced the past to the back of her mind…until such time they would haunt her again.

They'd arrived in the evening, and found Captain Jimila on the main deck of her ship. The Khajiiti captain greeted Aneril warmly – she'd helped to rescue the captain's crew from the Maormer, back in Khenarthi's Roost. Thus Jimila didn't give them any 'trouble' that the Queen had worried about, and gave the pair a private cabin on the ship. Then, she extended an invitation for a round of drinks before the long voyage – which Aneril declined, but Vareysa took on eagerly.

So Aneril spent the night in the cabin alone with the tiger cub, grateful that she'd gotten some measure of privacy to herself. But when she woke the next morning, she found Vareysa's bed still empty. Aneril felt a pinch of concern – just a pinch – but decided to wait for a while before starting a search. After all, a Morag Tong assassin should be more than capable of taking care of herself.

She had a quiet meal with some of the crew onboard, then wandered about Skywatch's market with the cub, looking for supplies to pick up before their journey to Valenwood. And when she returned to the ship at noon, there was still no sign of Vareysa, but she found Captain Jimila on the deck, sitting on a crate with a pitifully hungover expression.

"Oh, she hasn't come back?" Jimila muttered when Aneril approached her. "Sorry, but I don't know where she is…"

"Wasn't she with you last night?"

"Yeah. But then the drinks ran out…or did I pass out?" Jimila groaned into her paws, dragging her claws down tan fur. "Okay, wait. I think I…remember her staggering out of the tavern? But I don't know where she went. Sorry, friend."

"It's alright. I'll look for her," Aneril sighed, feeling the cub's tail slide around her calves as she walked over to the boarding ramp – and stopped.

A lone figure was trudging up the ramp with shoulders hunched, and though their jacket's hood was pulled low over their head, their identity was obvious.

"You're alive," Aneril said drily when Vareysa reached the ship.

"Unfortunately," she rumbled. "Ugh. Not now, cubby." She pushed the cub away with a foot, when it pawed at her legs.

"There you are," Jimila purred, as Vareysa went to lean heavily against her crate. "Where were you?"

"In the market. I woke up behind that huge boulder near the forge…fully-clothed, thank gods."

Jimila laughed. "Ah yes, speaking of which, you lost the contest. I'll have Oblan bring the laundry to you every morning."

"Guar shit." Vareysa slapped at her thigh. "I won. And you were making a fool of yourself."

"Fine, fine." Jimila hopped off the crate, holding up her hands. "Honestly, I was hoping you'd forgotten that raunchy song about the queen."

"Hey, if it's any consolation? I would, too." Vareysa shot her a grin. "She does have a nice ass. Don't you agree?" She nudged at Aneril, who fixed her with an unamused stare.

Jimila clicked her tongue playfully. "Right. Now, try not to wander off. We'll cast off soon…when the Prowler stops spinning."

Vareysa heaved a sigh as the captain walked off. She looked at Aneril with a furrow between her brows, then grabbed her elbow with surprising speed. "Oh, right. I have something for you…" She pushed the hood from her head, then squinted and cursed at her decision, and pulled the hood back on again. "Thrice-damned sun…"

Aneril watched her dig into an inner pocket of her jacket and fish out a neatly-folded letter, handing it over.

"Courier found me while I was walking back… Said he was looking for a 'gorgeous Dunmer wanderer and an Altmer soldier with a scar over her right eye'. Hope you don't mind, I thought the letter was for me too, so I took a peek."

"Huh." Aneril read its contents quickly. "Tharn wants to meet us in some place called…the 'Wormroot Depths'? An Ayleid ruin in Grahtwood."

"How convenient," Vareysa drawled. "Just where we're headed. Like it's preordained, or something."

Aneril rolled her eyes. "Go get some rest. Your humour isn't any better when you're half-dead."

"You think it'll get better when I'm fully dead?" Vareysa smirked, pushing herself up from the crate, only to sway forward and hug tightly at Aneril's arm. "I'm so tired, oh strong and valiant knight," she simpered. "I don't suppose you'll carry me to the cabin?"

"No."

"Please?"

"I'll dump you into the sea."

"How very cruel of you," Vareysa said with a pout. She reached up to tweak Aneril's nose, snickering when her hand was slapped away. "I'll bring you around one day, you frigid Altmer."

"I highly doubt it, you bothersome Dunmer."

According to Jimila, the ship voyage to Grahtwood – southern Valenwood and home to Elden Root – would take little more than two weeks, if the winds and seas were favourable. Aneril didn't mind the length of travel; she'd always enjoyed the simple motion of moving, be it on a horse, in a carriage, or on a ship. Sitting on a transport seemed to create this little bubble of serenity, where she was safe and secure in her own thoughts, and could just…let go for the moment. Especially now, after the past hectic weeks filled with a series of perilous missions, she cherished the time to just sit by herself, and not have to worry about the Dominion, the war…not even her absent soul.

Peace truly was a rare luxury these days.

Aneril looked up subtly from the book in her hands – a traveler's guide to Valenwood and the Bosmeri people – and fixed Vareysa with a thoughtful gaze. The Dunmer seemed unaware of the attention as she remained curled up in her bed opposite Aneril's, thoroughly engrossed in her own book – a collection of short stories about the old Yokudan warriors.

She'd fully expected Vareysa to grow restless a few days into the journey, but her companion appeared to enjoy the calm voyage as well. Oh, she'd spent many hours exploring the decks of the ship, poking her nose into its many nooks and crannies with the cub by her side, and sometimes even climbed the rigging to reach the crow's nest for a good look at the waters around them. But she spent just as much time lounging under the sun, and reading the books she'd borrowed from Jimila's library in quiet corners around the ship. It was a surprise, but not an unpleasant one. At least Aneril didn't have to deal with her constant prodding as she'd feared before…

She became distracted then, glancing at the small white figure that had sauntered through the door–

Aneril did a double-take at the tiger cub, who carried a large hunk of ham determinedly in a mouth that was a tad too small for its catch. The sight was endearing, of course – watching it struggle to keep the meat lodged between its fangs – but then Aneril realised where it must've taken the ham from.

"Did you get that–?" Aneril asked in a hushed tone, dropping her book to the bed as the cub turned its head to look at her. She jumped onto her feet, catching Vareysa's attention as she scooped up the cub in one arm, holding onto the ham so it wouldn't fall from its mouth. The cub whined as Aneril poked her head out the door, making sure the coast was clear and the chef wasn't storming down the corridor, on a hunt for the missing food. Kicking the door shut behind her, she went to set the cub down at the back of the cabin, hidden behind Vareysa's storage chest.

"Aw." Vareysa leaned over from her bed, watching the cub dig into its meal. "Baby went hunting!"

"Baby stole from the kitchen," Aneril retorted.

"Eh, it's just one ham. No one will care." Vareysa scratched at the cub's head, though it couldn't be distracted from the food. "Besides, what are you gonna do? Snatch a hungry cub's meal away, based on principles it doesn't understand?"

Aneril sighed, growing soft as they watched the cub eat. "No. But we have to teach it not to steal, or we'll have a serial thief on our hands."

"You teach it, oh paragon of virtue," Vareysa said disinterestedly, flopping back onto the mattress. "I'm sure you're much more qualified to do so."

"Whatever," Aneril muttered, picking up a stray piece of meat that flew away from the cub's mouth, amid its excited chomping. She noted how carefully it nibbled at the offering, so it wouldn't bite her fingers on accident. The Khajiit was right, it seemed – this little one was intelligent. She smiled and rubbed her knuckles on top of its head, getting a muffled growl, then stroked slowly down its back. But something niggled away at her, and she didn't understand it until she raised her head to meet that quiet, red-eyed gaze.

"What?" Aneril said reflexively.

Vareysa laughed softly. "You're one of those types, huh. The strong, silent one who hates people, but likes animals better."

Aneril narrowed her eyes, but didn't feel any sort of irritation – surprisingly. "I wonder why."

Grinning at her answer, Vareysa asked, "Ever had any pets?"

"A few." Aneril grunted as she stretched a hand towards the cabin's small table, grabbing a bowl and the jug of water. "We had dogs, cats, fishes…and horses, if you count them too."

"Huh. Are you rich?"

Aneril shrugged, pouring water into the bowl and setting it beside the cub. "My family is."

Vareysa hummed, looking at her thoughtfully. "Merchant-rich, landowner-rich, or just old money?"

"Landowner. And some old money, I guess."

"Oh, wow." Vareysa fell silent for a moment. "You…wanna kill anyone to get more inheritance?"

"Maybe."

She snickered at Aneril's quick answer, then quieted again. "Wait. You're not serious, are you?"

"Of course not," Aneril scoffed. "Not to get more money, anyway." She clicked her tongue when Vareysa laughed again, and slapped her shoulder.

"Humour! From you, no less. Ha!" Vareysa cackled away. "Never thought I'd live to see the day!"

Aneril grumbled when Vareysa's hand smacked at her again. "I'll show you 'humour' if you hit me aga–oh no."

She was distracted again by the cub – who'd lifted its head from the ham, and enthusiastically dunked its muzzle into the bowl of water. Then it jerked back in surprise, tongue flicking out to try and lick at its wet nose, stumbling around the floor like a drunk.

"Here, here. Hold on." Aneril plucked the cub from the ground and set it in her lap, wiping its nose with the hem of her shirt. The cub chuffed in thanks, getting another smile from Aneril.

"So, are you really going to keep him?" Vareysa asked, as Aneril hugged the cub to her chest.

"I don't know. At this point, it does seem like it," Aneril sighed. She met the cub's gaze, and cooed, "Do you want to stay or go, little boy?"

The cub chuffed, then shifted around in her arms, curling up as if to sleep. Aneril set it back in her lap, rubbing its now-longer and softer fur. "Do you think we should keep him?"

"No. But that's just me. A pet nearly ruined my contract once." Vareysa cocked her head. "Well, not really a 'pet', so to speak. Just this baby alit that got attached to me, back when I was in Vvardenfell. I tried to lose it, but then it found me again in the wilds – just as I was creeping into my target's camp. Gave my position away, but then I threw my dagger just right." She flicked a hand at Aneril, making a sound between her lips. "I always get my targets."

Aneril raised her eyes to the ceiling when Vareysa winked, but chose not to say anything, occupying herself by playing with the cub's tail instead.

"You know, if you're going to keep it, you should give it a name."

"Hm. I don't really…" Aneril stared blankly at the cub's white fur. "Um… Snow?"

"Very inspired."

"Better than 'cubby'," Aneril shot back, unaware of the pout that appeared on her lips.

"Well then," Vareysa drawled. "Come up with a new one so 'cubby' doesn't stick." She paused when the cub growled sleepily in response. "…Maybe it already has."

"Snow…ball. Snowflake. Snowdrift."

"Just because it's white, doesn't mean its name has to be related to snow."

"You come up with it then!" Aneril said. "If you know everything that's white!"

"Er, clouds. Doves. Some chicken eggs are white too, I guess? Oh, egg whites are white. Porcelain? And uh…eyeballs."

Aneril snorted a laugh. "You want to name him 'Eyeball'?"

"Hey, I'm just listing everything that's white! You don't have to take it so literally." Vareysa mimicked her pout from just seconds before.

"How about…Stripes."

"Literal. How's…Fang?"

"That's literal too!" Aneril frowned down at the cub, then a giggle escaped her lips. "Flour."

"Salt. Sugar." Vareysa chuckled along with her. "Rice. Cream."

"Mashed potatoes. Milk. Bread… Damn it," Aneril groused. "Now I'm hungry."

"Me too," Vareysa sighed. She lay still in bed for a while, then pushed herself up. "Fancy a late-night pantry raid?"

"What is it with you and late-night snacks?" Aneril said. But Vareysa just raised her brows and waited, until Aneril's stomach finally won over. "Fine. Why not."

"Great!" Vareysa clapped her hands and leapt up from the bed. "Here, you can leave Cheese on my bed."

Aneril gathered the cub gently in her arms, depositing it on Vareysa's mattress. "His name is Risotto."

"Like hell it is." Vareysa pulled the door open. "How about Chicken?"

"We are not naming him Chicken!"

"Mushroom. Onion."

"No!"