"Simhaud! You're back, finally! It's been weeks since you left."

Armand flashed a big smile towards him, which only helped to sink his mood lower. Trying not to think about what he was there to do, he smiled back.

"Hello, Armand. Nice to see you, too."

The Redguard shook his head, happiness still on his face.

"We were starting to think that you had disappeared like the others, too. Glad it's not the case."

Simhaud just shrugged. Don't think about it, don't think about it…

"Oh, by the way. Here, this is rightfully yours, I believe."

Damn. Armand started to rummage in his bag, before extracting something made of gray leather. He handed him the Cowl of the Gray Fox, and Simhaud had no choice but to accept. For the moment, at least.

"And here I was, fearing that you would try to steal it for yourself and kill me had I returned back."

Fun fact: he had actually hoped that. It would have made everything definitely easier, and would have spared him the need to make up some lies to cover the truth.

"Hey, I might be a thief, but I'm not a backstabber." Armand shrugged, his face returning to a more neutral expression. "So…what happened? Did you discover why those thieves disappeared first and returned insane later?"

It had just began. Simhaud inspired, then spoke again, lowering his voice.

"About that…we need to talk."

Armand expression immediately soured. He lowered his voice in return, looking around to see if anyone was listening. No, they were alone in that part of the Waterfront.

"I don't really like that tone. Are we in danger?"

Simhaud shook his head.

"No, don't worry. The Guild is safe."

"I…see. Can you go an greet everyone? While it could help reassure the others, if you don't have time for that, I'll…"

Well, thank the gods Armand was pretty receptive…Or not. Maybe it would have been better if he had been denser than granite, in that situation.

"No, I have all the time I need. Let's go to the base. We will meet later at the usual spot."


Namira laughed softly, the vivid image still dancing in her mind after Sheogorath's colourful description.

"Those mortals never cease to amuse me!"

Sheogorath scoffed, his expression halfway between irritation and hilarity.

"Oh, sure, Namira. It amuses you because you weren't the one that had to do it."

He paused, before high-pitching the tone of his mental words.

"Oh, I'd really like to send you those reinforcements for Bruma, to defend the only person that stands between us and Dagon, but you see, we have a tiny Gate in front of our city and we're too useless to do anything about it! Oh, please, valiant hero, close it and we'll send the troops, never mind the fact that that Gate is probably going to re-open the second you leave the city!"

Namira couldn't help but chuckle again. Luckily, Sheogorath didn't take offence: in fact, she suspected he had launched himself in that imitation of Chorrol's countess just to make her laugh, if his brief smile was a clue. However, it didn't last long: the Prince sighed, shaking his head.

"I'm definitely going to crawl into those Gates until this ends, am I not?"

His tone was now one of flat resignation, with a lingering aftertaste of frustration.

"…I'm afraid yes, Lord Sheogorath." she said in the end, with a shrug and the hint of a sigh of her own.

Sheogorath scoffed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He looked so…human, right now, Namira realized. No wonder he had been so successful in keeping his true nature a secret so far, he looked like he was born that…Oh. She bit her lower lip, almost wanting to hit herself for that slip. Luckily Sheogorath wasn't hearing her inner thoughts…

"I suppose I deserve it…I was the one who lost the Amulet, after all."

The tone was now one of pure resignation. Feeling guilty for her earlier thoughts, she answered immediately, with the warmest tone she could use at the moment.

"Don't be too hard on yourself. You've done a lot, even with your avatar's mortal limitations."

Sheogorath's expression suddenly hardened, a brief mask of fury darkening his expression.

"Dagon is going to pay for this."

Namira couldn't help but wince. She had never seen Sheogorath so…menacing. He usually was a moody creature, yes, but he was fond of soft tones and laughter, even when he was threatening to rip someone's spine from their back. To see poisoned, barbed steel emerging from under that façade…well, it was not a pretty sight even for the Mistress of Decay. She thanked that she had never crossed the other Prince's path, because finding that fury directed at her…

"…Anyway, have you got something for me?"

She almost jumped again at Sheogorath's voice. She noticed that his tone was polite again…good grief, he sure was quick to change! Not that she could really complain about that particular variation, though.

"Oh! Yes, now that I recall. Nocturnal was here not too long ago, and she left this for you."

She snapped her fingers, making a black, elegant bow appear in the hands of Sheogorath. Well, the bow wasn't originally black, but she really thought that it looked better that way, it's surface now similar to Ebony.

"The Bow of Shadows. Not only a fairly powerful weapon, but it's enchanted to grant you both speed and some precious seconds of invisibility. Or, at least, that's what Nocturnal said."

Sheogorath looked at the artifact for a few seconds, studying it, before grinning.

"Colour me impressed."

"She said that you would need a better bow soon, but, sadly, her shrine was too distant for you to reach right now."

Now, Nocturnal's fascination with the Madgod was hardly a secret for anyone smart enough, but this move was uncharacteristically blunt. Perhaps it had been urgency that had made the Mistress of Shadows so open.

"My, how thoughtful." he said, a little amused smile lingering on his lips for some seconds. She was not sure whether he was ridiculing Nocturnal's attentions or simply acknowledging them, but honestly she didn't care much.

"…And for me…"

She was about to introduce her ring, when Sheogorath raised an hand.

"I dread to sound rude, but that would be a definitely bad idea."

She stopped right in her tracks, surprise overcoming her.

"…I beg your pardon?"

"You giving me an artifact is not that surprising…but two? Even Dagon would get suspicious. Of course, he could simply be not watching, but I'd rather not taking any unnecessary risk." he explained with a polite tone and a serious expression.

Of course. She nodded, before sighing.

"…Oh. You're right. Well, that's pretty unfortunate! I wanted to help you on your quest to find some disposable artifact for that Septim, since my Ring is pretty useless to you…"

After all, her Ring was effective if you were hit a lot, a strategy that Sheogorath was going to avoid in favour of striking from the shadows, unseen and untouched. He chuckled lightly, before shaking his head.

"I appreciate, my dear, but don't worry. I will find something I can safely give up. Now, I really need to return to Cloud Ruler Temple to restock, before going south again. Goodbye, Namira."

She nodded, before mind-speaking again.

"Very well, Lord Sheogorath. Until next time, then, and may your mission be successful."


The main hall of the Thieves Guild's headquarter was now filled: the news of the return of the most skilled agent of the Gray Fox (well, that was his official position. Only Armand Christophe and Count Umbranox knew the truth) had spread quickly, and every thief in the Imperial City not currently working had come to cheer and drink.

"Simhaud!"

The Bosmer woman's voice almost made him jump. He knew he would have to face her, sooner or later, but he had definitely hoped that the latter was the case. He smiled, trying to sound relaxed and happy to see her…only to fail spectacularly.

"Hi, Methredhel."

"Wow, how gloom we are today! Are you not happy to see me?"

He waved an hand in the air.

"Oh, no, not at all. I'm just tired, I had to travel for days without a true opportunity to rest."

Methredhel raised an eyebrow.

"You liar." she said in the end, with a slightly teasing tone. He found himself pulled along their little charade, faking an outraged tone.

"Hey, it's true!"

The Bosmer laughed, rolling her eyes.

"Sure, sure."

However, her expression immediately got serious. Simhaud definitely didn't like that.

"Can we talk a minute somewhere more…private?"

He forced himself to smile and nod, despite his internal turmoil.

"Of course. Follow me."

Simhaud led the woman up a staircase. He didn't have to search for long for the key of his quarters, and in no time the door was open. He stepped in, motioning Methredhel to do the same.

"So…what is it?" he said, closing the door.

"Well…You better have a seat."

Oh, great.

"Should I start to worry?"

The Bosmer shrugged.

"…Maybe?"

He frowned.

"Has something happened to you? Because you seem awfully calm for someone…"

"Simhaud, calm down! I'm fine! Can you let me finish?"

He sighed, before muttering something along the lines of "yeah, sure". Methredhel nodded, before inspiring deeply.

"I…We…We will have a child. I'm pregnant."

He had expected to hear something like that, but to actually listen those words…it felt like the world had crumbled under his feet, the walls coming down to crash on him. He was there to cut his ties with his mortal life, not to discover new ropes tying him down to it.

"It's…oh! Oh! It's…great."

Methredhel sighed, before going to sit in a nearby chair.

"Wow, don't be so enthusiast."

Simhaud rubbed his head, his mind working frantically in the vain effort to find something smart to say.

"Sorry, it's not that I'm not happy, it's just…so sudden."

The woman nodded, a little smile forming on her lips.

"I know. And don't worry, I won't force you to marry me or something."

He raised his hands in the air.

"Oh, great! Now my worries are gone." he said, his sarcasm clearly showing.

"Ah-ah."

He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to not getting crushed by the guilt that was now busy devouring him. He couldn't stay. Yes, he knew that, but…that didn't mean that he would try his best to help her. He moved towards her, taking her hands into his and kissing her on the forehead.

"Don't worry, I will do whatever I can for you."

She looked at him for some seconds, trying to decipher his expression. Before she could, however, he stepped back, going towards the door.

"Sorry, I have to go now. I'll see you later, okay?"

The Bosmer blinked for a moment, confused, before giving him a tentative nod.

"Good. Bye, Methredhel." he said with a little smile, before exiting from the room in a fluid motion.


"Oh, here you are. I was beginning to wonder when you would show up."

Clavicus Vile was in a foul mood, that day, Simhaud quickly realized. Well, more foul than usual, that is. Really, the Daedric lords were a bunch of sourpusses! Thankfully he and Sanguine usually lifted the collective mood…

"Well, I was in the area, and I thought it would be nice to visit you." he joked.

"Please, Sheogorath, I don't have time for your humor today."

"…Has something happened?"

Vile snarled. Man, for a Daedra that looked like a child he sure was bitter!

"Isn't that obvious? But it's nothing that concerns you, so let's just get to the point, shall we?"

Simhaud scoffed.

"Fine, fine, don't be such a curmudgeon!"

"…Tell me you didn't just say that because you wanted to say the word 'curmudgeon'."

"…Was that so evident?"

He could almost hear the sound of Clavicus Vile's hand hitting his forehead. However, it was another voice that answered.

"Please, Lord Sheogorath, just say what do you need. Currently Vile is pretty busy, and I'd rather not have him any more upset."

He raised an eyebrow, a small smile spreading on his face.

"Oh, hello Barbas. Fancy see you here…"

He was about to say more, when he remembered the Daedra's words.

"Oh, right. Let's get to the point…Vile, I need your Masque."

There was an instant of silence, before the voice of the other Daedra boomed in his mind.

"YOU WHAT? You don't even need my Masque!"

"Hey, that's untrue! I really need it!"

"Oh, really? For what? You have already charmed your way in more places I care to count! How does the enchantment on the Masque help you?"

Simhaud shifted his weight from one foot to another. Telling the other Prince what he needed the artifact for was definitely going to anger him even more, and right now he lacked the time or the mood to reason with an angry Daedric Lord.

"I just need it, okay?"

"Oh. Oooooh. Now I remember…you want to give it to that Septim mortal, right?"

Clavicus' voice had become dangerously sweet: definitely not a good sign.

"Well…"

"Well, USE YOUR OWN ARTIFACTS THEN! I have other uses for the Masque right now, and I'm not going to give it up for who knows how long!"

Simhaud had to stop himself from growling.

"Are you weaseling out from your deal, Clavicus Vile?"

The other Daedra definitely felt the danger in his tone, but didn't budge from his position.

"Oh, come on, you already have two artifacts on you!"

"Dammit Vile! I need them and you know it!"

"Well, and I need my mask! Go ask…"

He never finished his phrase.

"Lord Clavicus Vile, I find myself extremely dissatisfied with the fact that my words have already been forgotten. When I said 'and we shall all assist Lord Sheogorath' I meant all of us."

The words dripped in Simhaud mind, leaving an oily aftertaste after them. He nodded, asking himself how exactly had the Prince of Fate managed to enter that conversation.

"Hermaeus Mora, how nice to see you here. Mind helping me?"

"That's my intention, Lord Sheogorath. Clavicus Vile, I'd like to remind you that losing Umbra is entirely your fault and doesn't excuse you from your pact."

It took just some seconds for Simhaud to understand the whole situation, and even less for him to laugh.

"No, really? You want to bribe some foolish adventurer with your mask so they will try to get Umbra back? Oh, come on, every adventurer worth of their name would just keep the sword…assuming that they can take it in the first place."

Umbra had always been a sore spot for Vile, and probably the only thing that prevented the Prince of Bargains from lashing out against Simhaud was Mora's presence...damn him, he had his tentacles everywhere, but at least this time his intervention had been useful.

"Sure, go ahead and insult me, that's really going to help your cause! And this situation is your fault, anyway!"

"Lord Vile…Lord Sheogorath…please stop this senseless bickering."

He could almost feel the gaze of the eldritch Prince on him, begging to stop talking and making the situation worse, but couldn't help himself.

"You can't even prove that witch was me!"

This time, not even Mora's presence was enough to rein the other Prince.

"THAT'S IT! You want my Masque? I will exchange it with Umbra! You don't have Umbra? FORGET ABOUT IT."

The Prince of Knowledge sighed deeply when the mental connection was suddenly severed, leaving him alone with Sheogorath.

"Here we are, unwilling witnesses of the last temper tantrum of the Prince of Wishes. I'm afraid reclaiming Umbra will be the only choice for you, if you want that Artifact. I would love to help you, but I'm afraid gifting you with the Oghma Infinium away from my shrine would only be helpful in arising suspicions."

Simhaud sighed.

"I know, I know. Since I don't have the time to search all Tamriel for that damn sword, I'll guess I'll…"

"Uhm, may I?"

The third voice startled him for a second.

"Mh? Oh, Barbas. Did Vile throw you out too?"

"Oh? No, not at all. I'm just…asking for your help."

Simhaud sighed. Again.

"I don't have the time to…"

"If I may, Lord Sheogorath. I was about to intervene before, but Barbas was swifter than me. Umbra…and the mortal that is carrying it…is located an hour from here."

Well, that was interesting. Barbas spoke again, a plea in his tone.

"Look, I know Vile's being an ass, but I'm asking you to help anyway. It's not too far, you get your Masque, Umbra is removed from this world so that Dagon can't put his hands on it and it looks like you're just an adventurer doing a task from a Daedric Lord, which should lessen Mehrunes's suspicions."

Silence.

"…and Lord Vile shall owe Lord Sheogorath a favor." added Mora in the end, with his best commanding voice (and a damn good one, to boot).

"…and Vile will owe him a favor, yes."

The Nord threw his hands in the air, realizing too late that he'd been cornered.

"Fine, fine! I will do it. I hope Vile has his Masque ready for the time I return."

"Good! I will go with you. It's probably the minimum I can do." added Barbas, joy in his voice.

"Very well. I will excuse myself then, now that the issue is solved. If you find yourself needing some help just call, Lord Sheogorath. Farewell."

With Mora's voice retreating from his head, Simhaud was left with the sensation of murky water in his mind, and a canine presence that was arguably worse. Once again, he found himself sighing: why things couldn't be simple, for once?"


"Okay, we're alone. Now, in what kind of idiocy have you gotten into this time?"

There was no joy in Armand's face, this time. He shook his head, trying to not look the Redguard's face.

"I really can't talk about it."

"Simhaud, this is bullshit! I deserve...no, better, Methredhel deserves to know!"

"Maybe I've told her."

The Redguard shot him an angry glare.

"...Fine, I didn't." he conceded in the end. "I can't talk about it, I told you. It's too dangerous."

Armand clearly wanted to shout at him, while punching him hard, but thankfully he restrained himself.

"It's the Dark Brotherhood, Simhaud? Or worse?"

The Nord shook his head, looking away. Armand's insistence was not making the whole situation easier.

"As I said before, I can't say. But I assure you, once I'm gone nobody is going after you. It's me they want."

This time Armand grabbed his arm, hard, forcing him to face him.

"Simhaud, stop speaking nonsense! Who are 'they'? Has this anything to do with your investigation?"

Simhaud looked into Armand's eyes, disgust building into him. He was going to lie, lie shamelessly to the few people he still cared for. He was doing this for their sake? Maybe, but he still felt filthy for that.

"It doesn't mind anymore. There's nothing you can do. Nothing. Get into this, and you will die too. Get the others into this, and they die too. Is this point clear enough, Armand?" he hissed, yanking his arm away from the Redguard's grip. The fact that his words had frozen him had probably helped, too.

"Sorry. I just don't want anyone else to suffer from my mistakes."

Armand laughed, probably emitting the saddest laugh he had ever heard.

"It's a little late for feeling guilty, isn't it?"

"Yes. Yes, it is."

They looked at each other for some seconds, unable to say anything. You are doing this for their sake, he had to remind himself.

"What about Methredhel, Simhaud?"

"You know?"

"Yes. She told me when she was sure of it."

Simhaud sighed.

"That's the hardest part. I'll admit, I wouldn't had been too keen on the idea of being a father in normal circumstances, but this…"

He shook his head, unable to finish. Instead, he took out something from his satchel. Armand jumped, recognizing immediately the Cowl.

"Well, this you know of. There's also this." he said, taking out a key and a folded piece of parchment from a pocket. "It's yours, but I ask that you use it also for Methredhel."

"Don't tell me that's the map to your legendary secret hoard."

He nodded.

"And the key to it. You would probably open it anyway, in the end, but that definitely simplifies the whole ordeal. And about the Cowl…I know you had reservations about accepting it…"

"Simhaud, I'm not a legendary thief capable of sneaking into the Imperial Palace and exit with his head still on the neck."

"Neither was my predecessor. And let's be honest, the Gray Fox doesn't need to be a legendary thief, but needs to be the one in charge of the whole Guild. Your talents are perfect for that…but, if you still don't feel up to it, just wait until you can find someone more suited. That Cowl is yours, now: if you get up some day wanting to throw it into the lake, please feel free to do that."

He handed the content of his hands to the Redguard, which begrudgingly accepted.

"You are an idiot, Simhaud."

"I know, and you are the best friend a man could wish for. I will miss you."

There were a few moments of awkward silence, before Simhaud cleared his throat.

"I guess I should go now. I won't ask you to forgive me, but…Please, look after Methredhel. She didn't deserve anything of this."

"I will. Farewell, Simhaud."

He nodded, before turning his back and exiting the Waterfront District, without looking back even once.


"Remind me why this is a good plan." Simhaud almost growled in his mind, after the arrow he had launched was neatly cut in two by the Bosmer now possessing Umbra…well, the Bosmer possessed by Umbra, actually.

"Well…If you were a normal adventurer I would suggest you to run away now and go tell Vile you couldn't recover Umbra, but you really need that sword …and you are far more capable than a simple mortal, anyway."

"You are not saying that because of that time I wanted to kill you for chewing my slippers, right?"

"…I did never…ah, damn it. No."

His seconds of invisibility were going to end soon, he realized, and when that would have happened…well, he would be in trouble, now that he had failed to land the first, decisive, blow from the shadows. Daaamn. He put down his bow, his right hand ready to unsheathe the Ebony Blade. Really, that whole mission was going to transform into a contest for bloodthirsty Daedric swords, and he wasn't that keen on being in the middle of it.

"Vile is going to owe me big time for this!" he mind-shouted, quickly extracting his weapon and charging towards his opponent.


The guards found his body the next morning not too far from the Market District, his throat slit. They simply presumed he was the latest victim of some thug, and quickly proceeded to remove the body, moving it into a chapel of Arkay to wait for someone to claim it. It wasn't long before the grim news arrived into the Waterfront District, and even less before Methredhel discovered it. Saying that she was desperate was a massive understatement. Armand assured her that the Gray Fox would have started to investigate immediately, but in the end even the mysterious head of the Guild failed in discovering more about Simhaud's death. A letter coming from Windhelm saying that a certain Harrald Snowhill was distraught about his brother's death, but could not leave Skyrim to pay his respect to the departed was the only thing they received from the Nord's family, a month later.

Six months later Methredhel gave birth to three children, two Nords, a boy and a girl, and a Bosmer girl. The whole Guild in the Imperial City vowed to help her, especially Armand Christophe. In fact, when the Gray Fox himself announced his intention to support to the young Bosmer mother, many suspected it was because of the influence of his new second in command.

Raising three children basically alone wasn't an easy task, but Methredhel wasn't really the type that gave up easily. She had to keep going, no matter how the pain sometimes crushed her, or how many times she wished she had never let Simhaud go, that day when he had returned with a darkened face and who knew how many secrets. Just keep going. Do it for Armand, do it for Rorik, Frilgeth and Misandrael, do it for yourself. She thought everything was getting better, after five years. Still, that Nord she had seen in the Market had managed to open the old wounds. She sighed, shifting uncomfortably in her bed…maybe Armand was right, she needed some rest. Perhaps she could go for some time in her…well, Simhaud's…house in Bruma. She had always liked fresh air and the atmosphere of that town, and she could stay in touch with the Guild via Ongar. Yes, she definitely should have done that, she decided just before her weariness won its battle with her mind, finally making her fall asleep.


And once again, thanks for the support! Feel free to leave a comment, as usual!