A/N: Everyone seems to be thinking the Dark Brotherhood are going to attack Jorrvaskr and kill Kodlak. I can't imagine why you think I might do that to everyone. )

Summary: Delphine decides to make her move on Jorrvaskr and start asking a few pointed questions, with some unexpected answers. Meanwhile, Elisif and Eola hunt down Sinding, but the after-effects prove more permanent than a Daedric curse...

Chapter 10: Under a Blood Moon

Had Cicero but known it, the decision to go north would have many consequences, the most immediate of which was that he and Ria didn't run straight into Delphine and the others on their way to White River Watch. That could have gone very well indeed... or very very badly. At any rate, it never happened, and Delphine made her way into the former bandit hideout without any trouble.

Arnbjorn and Calixto were having a close look at the body of the dead Companion. He'd been found in his underwear, wolf armour heaped in the corner. Cause of death would appear to be the slashed throat that was definitely Cicero's work, but the chewed right arm looked like Eola's doing.

"Well?" Delphine asked Arnbjorn. "Which of your two scenarios is the most likely?"

Arnbjorn poked over the bite-marks on Skjor's body. "The one I thought it might be. I have good news and bad news, Delphine. Good news is Cicero's probably not a werewolf."

"Well, I should hope not!" said Delphine, wondering how that was good news and what the bad news might be. "What's the bad news?"

"Bad news is I think Eola now is," said Arnbjorn, looking slightly nervous and with good reason. Delphine looked about ready to stab someone and truth be told, she felt it.

"How?" she managed to ask.

"Skjor was a werewolf, all the Circle are," said Arnbjorn. "It's where I got my beast blood from – it was Skjor who turned me. You drink the blood of a werewolf, you become one."

Delphine stared down at Skjor, feeling numb. Not difficult to work out that after killing Skjor, Cicero had given Eola the Ring of Namira to heal herself with. He'd had it with him when he vanished, was wearing it when she saw him, and he might not have known what it did, but Eola would have done. She'd needed healing, used its powers, taken a few bites out of Skjor not knowing he was a werewolf and...

"Oh gods," Delphine breathed, feeling vaguely nauseous at the thought of her girlfriend turning into a raging beast. "Sweet gods, Eola. I need to find her, I need to make sure she's alright."

"It's not that bad!" said Arnbjorn, a little stung. "She should have control over the changes, she can decide if she ever wants to use the power or not. It's not a curse."

"I don't know if she sees it that way," said Delphine, worried. Becoming a werewolf – few people would be entirely easy with that, and Eola hadn't chosen it. On the other hand, at least Eola wouldn't be too horrified or guilty to learn she'd changed into a beast and torn some innocent and not so innocent people apart. It wasn't far different from the sort of thing she liked to get up to anyway.

"What's our next move, Listener?" Aranea asked. "I don't think there's more this place can tell us."

A good question, fortunately one for which Delphine was prepared.

"We relieve the others, and then keep a watch on Jorrvaskr until tonight. At which point, we're sneaking in while they're all asleep for a little... interrogation. In particular, I want to know why Vilkas didn't tell me Cicero was one of them, and then I want a word with the Harbinger. Someone has a few questions to answer."

Finding the deer Sinding had mentioned had been harder than they'd imagined, but with enhanced werewolf senses, they'd tracked it down in the end. Elisif's archery skills had proved woeful to say the least, but a few spells from Eola weakened it sufficiently that it was easy prey when Elisif finally hacked it to death with her axe.

"Is that it?" Elisif asked, voice hushed. "We killed it, now what? Was it the right one?"

The answer to that question soon became obvious as a ghostly stag materialised above the cooling body of the one they'd just killed.

"Well met, hunters," the ghost said. If a deer could grin, this one would be. "I am Hircine, Lord of the Hunt. What would you ask of me?"

Eola nudged Elisif forward. Elisif wasn't at all sure about communing with an actual Daedric Prince, but if it was the only way to get the curse lifted, she'd do it.

"Er... hello, Lord Hircine," she said nervously. "I found your ring. I was hoping to give it back."

"Were you now," Hircine laughed. "Would that be because of the little gift that comes with it, by any chance?"

Elisif hesitated for just a beat too long before answering.

"I just thought you should have it back. I know if someone took something of mine, I'd want it back."

"How very generous," said Hircine, sounding only a little scathing. "But I don't just want the ring back. I want the thief punished. Sinding has offended me, little hunter. That makes him prey. Hunt him, kill him, offer his skin to me. Then I'll take the ring back."

"What?" Elisif cried. "But he's an innocent man! He doesn't deserve to die!"

"Deserving death does not come into it," said Hircine, supremely indifferent to Elisif's protests. "He is prey, prey must be hunted. That is all there is to it. If you do not hunt him, others more eager to gain my favour will arrive before you. I'm sure you would not want to miss out on the spoils now."

"You mean if I don't do it, I'm stuck like this," Elisif breathed, horrified. Hircine just tilted his head.

"You'll find the prey at Bloated Man Grotto. Make haste, hunter," was all Hircine said before disappearing. Elisif stared at the ground where he'd been in stunned silence.

"Elisif? Elisif, are you alright?" Eola asked, placing a hand on Elisif's shoulder. "Elisif?"

"We have to find Sinding, kill him and skin him as an offering to Hircine," said Elisif, trying not to cry. "Otherwise Hircine won't take the ring back and... and I'll be stuck like this forever! Oh, but Eola, I can't! How am I supposed to kill an innocent man? And skin him? But I can't even be around people like this, never mind be queen. Madanach won't want a werewolf for a wife! And Skyrim needs me!"

"Elisif." Eola had taken Elisif's hands in hers, trying to calm her down. "Elisif, it's all right. I'll help you. We'll do it together. Just think of Da and your people. This is about a lot more than you. Not just Skyrim, but the Reach too. We're not going to last long with someone else ruling Skyrim. The Empire won't help, they're too busy calming Cyrodiil down and worrying about the Dominion. We need you as Queen. Come on, Elisif, you can do this."

"I'm going to have to, aren't I?" said Elisif, wiping tears from her eyes. "Oh Eola, I'm so sorry, this is all my fault. I'm so sorry for dragging you into this."

"It's okay, honey," said Eola gently. "I don't suppose it would have been a good idea to leave a Daedric artefact lying around for just anyone to take, would it? Come on, let's get moving. Bloated Man Grotto's some way away."

Slowly, Vilkas opened his eyes. Something was wrong, the room had been dark when he fell asleep, but was now lit with a searingly bright light that didn't look like candlelight, and his arms were stretched out and he couldn't move them... or anything else. There was a woman in leather armour sitting on top of him, and while in itself it might not have been a bad thing, the fact remained he was non-consensually tied to the bed, some witchlight spell on the ceiling was blinding his eyes and he didn't like the way she was looking at him.

"Hello, Vilkas," she said casually. "I do apologise for disturbing you, but I'm afraid I had a few more questions."

"What is this?" Vilkas growled at her. "Some sort of interrogation? You could have just asked!"

Delphine leaned forward, the magelight's harsh brightness bleaching her features and making them look like some sort of mask, one of the hateful carnival ones from Cyrodiil that had always given Vilkas the creeps.

"I could, but I wanted to make sure I got an honest answer. Unlike the ones I got earlier. I don't like being lied to, Vilkas."

Vilkas grew cold as he realised she knew about Cicero. He could only thank the gods that Kodlak had sent Cicero away that afternoon with Ria. Poor girl had only just got back and now she was off again, but Kodlak had assured him she'd been quite happy to help. Apparently she'd met Cicero before and liked him – had learnt quite a few things from him in fact. So that was why she'd got back from her Trial and suddenly developed a style of combat based on ducking and weaving and moving too fast to hit, and with a vastly improved one-handed weapon handling technique. Vilkas hadn't been sure what to think about that. It bothered him for his protegee to suddenly start looking up to Cicero instead of him. However, right now, all that was the least of his problems.

"I'm telling you nothing," he said fiercely. "Now get out of here before I call the rest of Jorrvaskr in here."

"Not feeling talkative? That's a pity. Never mind, I don't mind talking for a bit. I don't advise screaming though. You see, you're not the only one with loyal brothers and sisters, and mine have been hard at work." The jolt of terror Vilkas felt must have shown on his face, because Delphine laughed at that. "Oh don't worry, they've not killed anyone. But if your siblings wake up in a hurry, they'll find their legs tied to the bed and their weapons and armour mysteriously misplaced. We've also got means of preventing werewolves transforming, much like our resident alchemist provided a serum that when rubbed into the skin, hides our scent from you. We came prepared, Vilkas. So if you care about your siblings at all, you're best advised keeping quiet so as not to wake any of them, and then answering my questions. Starting with why you never told me about Cicero."

"You're not getting your hands on him," Vilkas hissed. "I don't care what he did or who he offended, he's our brother and I'll die before I see any harm come to him."

"Noted," said Delphine tersely. "So you do know him. Where is he? We searched the place, he's not here."

"I don't know, the Harbinger sent him away. To keep him safe from you," said Vilkas, straining at the ropes holding him. It was no good, they'd been tied by an expert. No getting out of here without using beast form, and not only had she said she had means of dealing with that, he'd sworn not to use it, and true Nords kept their oaths. "Torture me all you want, I can't tell you what I don't know."

Delphine patted his cheek tenderly. "It's a good thing some of my Family aren't conducting this one, they'd happily take you up on that even if you didn't know. But I'm merciful and I'm prepared to believe you don't know where Kodlak sent him. So answer my next question instead, and I'll take my leave. Who's Cicero's lover?"

Cicero's... lover? Vilkas hadn't expected that one, not the question or the idea of Cicero being interested in anyone that way. There was a certain charm and flirtatiousness to the man, but Vilkas honestly couldn't imagine him being intimate with anyone. Cicero had always struck him as a bit too childlike for that. Still, Cicero was a man grown with presumably a man's desires, so it wasn't out of the question. All the same, Cicero had slept in a bed in a shared dormitory and just hadn't been alone with anyone long enough to have taken them to bed.

"He doesn't have a lover," said Vilkas, confused. "He flirts with everyone and will be all over anyone who's remotely nice to him, especially if he wants something, but actual... intimacy? He's not had the chance. It's possible the night of the abduction, he was out quite late then, but surely one night's not enough for him to get attached..."

"Are you sure?" Delphine purred. "No one in Jorrvaskr he liked to spend time with, go out on jobs with? That woman, Aela, she has nice red hair. Cicero likes red, you know that."

It was very true, although Vilkas wondered how she knew that. Cicero had often exclaimed how pretty her hair was, but every single time, Aela had irritably told him to go and bother someone else.

"It's not Aela," said Vilkas. "He's not her type. He was also friendly with Ralof, but Ralof's definitely not the type of man to be with other men. Why do you care anyway?"

"That's not your concern," Delphine snapped, her face closing. "All I care about is finding him."

"All you care about is the damn coin from whoever's hired you to kill him," said Vilkas bitterly. Damn assassins. No care for the harm they did or the pain they caused, just death and blood for nothing more than coin. It made Vilkas sick to think about it. On the other hand, a paid assassin could be bargained with. Not that Vilkas had a lot to offer. But Cicero was his Shield-Brother – a hyperactive and half-crazy simpleton of a Shield-Brother perhaps, but Farkas wasn't exactly the next Calcelmo either and Vilkas still loved him. Vilkas wasn't about to let Cicero down.

"Listen, you don't have to do this," he said, sounding a little desperate, but not caring. "You don't have to kill him. Just leave him here with us. We'll keep him here, safe and away from whoever his enemies are, you go back to your client, tell him Cicero's dead, take your gold, everyone's happy."

To his surprise, Delphine looked rather insulted by this.

"What do you think we are, some sort of mercenary gang?" she snapped. "We're the Dark Brotherhood! We can't just go around letting targets live and lying to clients about it! What sort of message does that send out? Honestly, I'm appalled you even suggested it, and you a man of honour and all."

"What would you know about honour?" Vilkas couldn't stop himself saying. She wanted honour? He'd give her honour. "But if you're so damn honourable, how about this? Don't kill him. Take me instead. My life for his. I don't care about dying. There's no Sovngarde for me, I know that. So kill me and let him live. You get a death, Cicero lives, the client thinks his enemy's in the grave, everyone's happy."

Delphine looked back at him, startled. Her turn to look confused now.

"You... is this a serious offer?" she asked. Vilkas hung his head, giving up. Farkas would be heartbroken, and it would mean never seeing Ria again, and Kodlak would be grieved, but Vilkas had seen the attachment the man had to Cicero. Vilkas didn't know why, but Kodlak loved Cicero almost like a son. If his death could keep Cicero safe... so be it.

"Yes," said Vilkas softly. "All I ask is you make it quick."

"You'd give up your life to save him from us, why?" Delphine whispered. "You've known him barely a month. You know nothing about him."

"I know he's a good man," said Vilkas, remembering facing up to an unexpected Dwemer abomination in Shimmermist Cave and being sure he was going to die, and then Cicero appearing out of nowhere, darting around the thing's legs and slashing certain key wires with his dagger, and as it fell to the ground, leaping on top of it and methodically taking it apart with his sword. Remembering getting the letter from Ria telling him Farkas was injured and they'd be delayed while he healed, and sitting outside, wondering what she wasn't telling him and if Farkas was really going to be alright, and how foolish could his twin be, didn't he know Vilkas would be devastated if he died? It had been Cicero who'd sat with him and listened to him rant about how he knew this would happen if he let the two of them head off without him, they'd get into trouble and he'd lose one or both of them, and now it had happened, Farkas was injured, he'd almost certainly got injured saving Ria from something, and what were they thinking, getting into dangerous situations like that, they could get killed, didn't either of them think what that would do to him? Cicero had patted his hand and said nothing, just smiling knowingly and only saying perhaps Vilkas should be a little clearer how he felt about them both when they got back. Ridiculous advice, Farkas surely knew Vilkas cared, and Ria was just his trainee and a friend, nothing more, despite those dangerous dark eyes and that hunter's grin that gave him the shivers. All the same, Cicero had cared enough to say it and that meant something.

"You know nothing about him," said Delphine, and now she just sounded sad.

"He's my Shield-Brother," said Vilkas. "I would die to protect him, as I would for any here. And it would break the old man's heart if anything happened to him. So go, assassin. Take my life, take your leave, forget Cicero was ever here." He closed his eyes and waited for the end. Nothing happened. Surely she wouldn't hesitate? She couldn't be unwilling to kill, she'd outright said she was Brotherhood.

A gloved hand patted his cheek.

"You really mean it, don't you," she said softly, amazed. "You have no idea who he is, but you're still willing to die to protect him."

"Yes," he hissed. "Just get on with it, you sadistic bitch."

Laughter. "Well, yes I am," Delphine said, clearly amused by something. "But you don't need to fear. Keep your life, Vilkas. Cicero is safe from me – we're not going to hurt him. There's no contract on him, never was. That's not why we're after him."

She got off him, stretching her legs out. Hardly daring to hope, Vilkas opened his eyes. She was about to head out, looking at him over her shoulder, still smiling.

"I know where I've been going wrong," she said. "All this time I've been thinking like an assassin, when what I should have done was think like a Companion. Thank you, Vilkas, you've been very helpful."

"Wait, where are you going?" Vilkas cried. "Are you going to untie me?"

No answer. The magelight blinked out as he heard the door close behind her, leaving him alone in the darkness. Well, wasn't that just lovely. All he could hope was that it wasn't Aela who found him like this, or he'd surely never hear the end of it.

Kodlak lowered the book he'd been reading. They were being quiet, very quiet. No one had approached his room yet, but he was fairly certain everyone else had been tied to the bed with weapons just out of reach, and that was the best case scenario. He reached for his own trusty Skyforge blade. Not that he feared the Brotherhood, but it wasn't a good idea to let them think him weak.

The door cracked open, the assassin creeping in with barely a sound. Kodlak was impressed by the skill involved. Even so, he could hardly let them proceed unhindered.

"Come in, why don't you," he said calmly. "I know you're there, you know I'm here, we may as well dispense with the charade and talk like civilised folk. Why don't you take a seat?"

Delphine looked up, and to her credit, smiled, blushing a little.

"You're good," she admitted, getting up and closing the door behind her. "Don't worry, I'm not here to kill you or anyone else. I just need to talk to you."

"In the middle of the night?" Kodlak asked, raising an eyebrow. "Most people would arrive in the day for casual conversation."

"It's not a casual conversation, and I'm a night person," said Delphine. "I didn't want to be disturbed."

"I see," said Kodlak. "Might I surmise from this that my brothers and sisters will, if they wake suddenly, experience great difficulty in getting up and arming themselves?"

"They might find it a bit harder than usual," Delphine admitted sheepishly. "Don't worry, they're fine. Only one of them seems to have disappeared. Where did you send him, Kodlak? Where's Cicero?"

So it had come to this. Kodlak's hand went to his sword-hilt.

"He is not here," said Kodlak, amazed at how steady his voice was considering his inner wolf was starting to growl. "I sent him away, so that he would be safe from the likes of you. You may practice your murderous trade as you please, but you will not lay a finger on any of my folk."

"I know," said Delphine, and her voice was far gentler than he'd ever thought he'd hear it. "I don't want to hurt him, I swear it. I just want to find him."

"You expect me to believe that?" Kodlak asked, disbelieving. All the same, there was something in her eyes that seemed... sincere.

"I don't," she said, looking away. "But I'm done playing games, so I'm just going to tell you the truth anyway. Believe me or not, as you please." She reached into her pocked and pulled out something made of red and black cloth, placing it on the table and staring at it, folding and unfolding it. Kodlak looked at it, blinked, looked again, and felt a chill go down his spine. Surely not...

"There's no contract out on him," Delphine said, her voice rough and jagged as if there was something in her throat. "There never was. We were hunting all over Skyrim for him, but not to hurt him. Never that." She sniffled, wiping a tear from her face and finally looking up. Kodlak saw tears rolling down her cheeks, saw the wedding ring and another ring with a sapphire in it alongside it, a custom more often seen among Imperial wives who would wear both wedding ring and a betrothal ring from their beloved – easily explained if she'd married a Cyrodiil man, he realised now. And the black ribbon round her wrist, a gesture of mourning in High Rock. Proof of her words though was not on her hands, it was in them – there in the two-pronged jester hat she was clutching as if her life depended on it. No one in Skyrim wore a jester hat, Skyrim hadn't had jesters in years. No one but one man. The Jester Dragonborn. A short Imperial redhead who could carve opponents into pieces in seconds and laughed throughout as he did it. Now here was a leading Dark Brotherhood assassin in his room in tears, clinging to the Dragonborn's hat. His son's hat, if Ria was right.

"He's my husband," Delphine whispered. "He's been missing for weeks, I thought he was dead. He must have been, nothing keeps my Cicero imprisoned for long. We'd not even been married long and only that morning, he'd told me how much he loved me and that he thought I was beautiful. He's such a sweet man. He'd never run away, he was happy. At least I thought he was... Then I found out he was here, and I came to find him but he's gone again. Please, Harbinger. Please tell me where he is. I miss him so much, please..."

Kodlak stared at the hat, finally lifting his eyes to look at her. It still could be some sort of deception, but he knew how to read people and he didn't think a leading Dark Brotherhood assassin would want someone to see her so upset and vulnerable. She looked genuinely heartbroken at the thought of Cicero being gone. He remembered his words to Cicero and Ria that a killer motivated by love was the most dangerous of all, and that even a monster like Madanach might love his wife and children.

Even a Dark Brotherhood assassin could love her husband and be devastated when he vanished without trace.

But why would the Dragonborn of legend marry a Dark Brotherhood assassin? He could have had anyone. Why marry someone he knew was a murderer? Kodlak found it hard to believe that Cicero wouldn't have known who his wife was. There was only one real explanation, wasn't there.

"He's one of you," Kodlak said softly, feeling his heart snap in two. "Did you recruit him yourself? How long has the Dragonborn been the worst kind of sneaking backstabber? When did you corrupt the spirit of Ysmir?"

Delphine's lips curved briefly in a smile. "He recruited me, Kodlak. He's been part of the Brotherhood for twenty-five years. He was fifteen when he killed his first, and he's never regretted any of it. Don't think of him as some noble-minded hero. He kills for fun first and coin second, and if he's managed to make Skyrim think he's a legend, it's because I steered him towards the ones that needed killing most. I sent him after dragons and Thalmor... and he turned me into an assassin. I'm not even sure I regret it any more. He has that effect on people."

Indeed. He'd had that very effect on Kodlak, being sweet, charming, innocent, vulnerable, childlike, cosying up to everyone like a practiced flirt and then turning around and demonstrating some killing moves that impressed everyone. All assassin's moves, Kodlak realised now. Stealthy, sneaky, stabbing moves, a flowing means of fighting ideally suited to a warrior you didn't even know was there until they killed you. The gods had given a Dark Brotherhood assassin the gift of the Dragon Blood. It was a cruel, cruel irony, and even crueller for Kodlak was the knowledge that the man they'd chosen was his son. His son, a hardened and unrepentant murderer, even if he no longer knew that. What was worse was that Kodlak couldn't even bring himself to hate the man. Cicero might be Dark Brotherhood... but he was still Kodlak's son.

"I sent him to High Hrothgar," said Kodlak wearily. "If he is truly Dragonborn, the Greybeards may be able to help. But if he's truly a Dark Brotherhood assassin, then by the Nine, I hope he never remembers. I almost think I would rather have him innocent and unknowing than..."

"I understand," said Delphine. "Must be hard to realise the man you loved like a son isn't being persecuted by the Brotherhood, he's being reclaimed."

"He is my son," Kodlak said gruffly. "I knew his mother years ago, but she disappeared. I didn't know she was pregnant, not until Cicero turned up here looking just like her. He wrote this down when he got here, although he doesn't consciously remember any of it. Here." He passed the piece of paper to her, waiting while she scanned it.

"Talos preserve us," he heard her whisper, and wasn't that the crowning irony. Cicero probably wasn't even a Talos worshipper really. The amulet must have been a gift from his wife – a Thu'um enhancing talisman for her Dragonborn husband.

She passed the paper back to him. "You're really... you're really his father." Kodlak nodded. She didn't say anything more. Finally he looked up to see her frowning at him.

"What, lass? Finding it hard to believe? He takes after his mother physically, you must know that."

"He does," said Delphine. "But believe it or not, I do see a bit of a resemblance to you as well. You've kept him hidden all this time and got him away just in time to stop me seeing him. Take it the hair dye was your idea too. You're a very cunning man, Kodlak Whitemane, and a perceptive one. Much like your son. Very protective of your loved ones. Like your son."

"But even in my headstrong youth, I would never have joined the Dark Brotherhood," said Kodlak, staring straight into her eyes. "Unlike my son."

"If your eyes were brown, they'd look just like his right now," said Delphine. She got to her feet, clearly done talking. "So he's gone to the Greybeards – well, that might be a good thing. At least he's safe. And this little visit hasn't been in vain. We searched Vignar's room while we were here, went over this whole place. Vignar keeps a journal, you know. He's worried about Skyrim, hates the Dominion, wishes Madanach had died in Cidhna Mine. But he's not a traitor. He's deeply grieved that Companions were involved, hopes Elisif is alive still, and doesn't want another war. Skyrim's suffered enough in his mind. There's no one else in Jorrvaskr who might have been involved, and now I know you were protecting Cicero, not traitors... well, I can let you be. The conspiracy's moved on. I imagine they'll try to relocate Elisif, but Skyrim's a big place and Eola's an old hand at disappearing into the wilderness. They'll never find her. In her absence, I think they're likely to make a play for the vacant throne, which means I'm off to Solitude in the morning. I think I might find Ralof there."

"And Skjor? He's been missing since that night too," said Kodlak. It wasn't just Cicero who might not be all he appeared to be after all. "Is he in Solitude plotting treason too?"

Delphine paused, and when she looked at him, her eyes were full of sadness. "He's dead, Kodlak. I'm sorry. But for what it's worth, I don't think he was involved. He tried to take one of us prisoner so he could torture her and find out where we were based so he could wipe us out and free Cicero from being hunted. It backfired and he's dead. We took the body to the Hall of the Dead this evening."

Kodlak bowed his head. He'd suspected Skjor was dead but to hear it confirmed... Part of him wanted to rip her to pieces, take revenge on the Brotherhood for the death of his old friend. Something stopped him though. They were murderers, but Skjor had tried to take them on by himself and paid the price. He must have known the risk. Also, while he could never approve of their business, they were Cicero's family too. He knew deep inside that he couldn't hurt Cicero's wife. He'd save Cicero from anything, but he couldn't save the man from himself. Cicero's memories might well return eventually and the first thing he'd do would be to seek out the wife he'd left behind. Kodlak couldn't be the one responsible for Cicero coming home to find his beloved wife dead, he just couldn't.

"I see. Thank you for telling me," he said. "Now if you please, I'm an old man. I need my sleep."

"I'm sure you do," said Delphine, sounding not unkind. Sympathetic even. "We'll be on our way. No one's been harmed, and you'll find all your weapons and armour in the mead hall. If Cicero comes back, send him to Solitude. I'll find him there."

Kodlak was sending him nowhere if he could help it, but he nodded in her direction anyway. He'd be prepared to tell Cicero where she went and let him make his own decision, but that was all. She left, closing the door behind her, moving silently in boots that surely had some sort of enchantment on them. Kodlak finally let out the breath he'd been holding. All of it for nothing, Stelmaria's handsome young son had been lost to the Brotherhood years before. Part of him wondered if Stelmaria knew, if she was even alive to know. He should have asked Delphine, it sounded like she knew of her. He'd give anything to speak to Stelmaria again, talk to her about Cicero, find out if she was as disappointed and heartbroken as he was. Find out if it was wrong to still feel just a bit proud of him regardless.

We made a monster, you and I, Stelmaria my love.

We made a Dragonborn.

Now that at least was something worthwhile. Not many men could say their son had killed the World-Eater and won a civil war. Maybe he could never approve entirely of his boy, not any more. All the same, he'd always had a sense Cicero was special. In Kodlak's eyes, he still was.

Blood everywhere. Death everywhere, flies buzzing around corpses – elves, men, women, one lone Khajiit. All torn to pieces by a werewolf's claws.

"He's been here," said Elisif, looking at the demolished campsite, bathed in red light from the moon.

"He's still here," said Eola, picking over the bodies, nostrils twitching. Must be the smell of death affecting her werewolf senses, Elisif guessed. It really couldn't be easy for her having to struggle with a beast nature thrust upon her. Elisif wasn't dealing terribly well with the Daedric curse either, but at least she'd not changed since that first time.

Round a corner, and there he was, Sinding now back in human form, perched on top of a rocky cliff.

"You?" he cried. "By all the gods, I didn't think... Come to kill me, have you?"

"I'm sorry," Elisif said, tears in her eyes. "It's the only way to lift the curse. I'd live with it if I could... but I'm needed."

"Needed," Sinding repeatedly bitterly. "Whereas I'm just a lonely man with no loved ones who no one will miss."

"You got that right," said Eola cheerfully. "Now are you going to give in and let us get it over with, or are you going to drag it all out and put up a fight?"

Sinding just laughed. "You think you'll win, don't you. Because you're two young women in the flower of your youth and nothing really bad has ever happened to either of you. Well, maybe you've seen a few fights, werewolf, but have you ever really lost one? And do either of you know what it's like to be prey?" He didn't wait for an answer. His body shifted, and then he was in his beast form, leaping down from the rock to land before them.

Elisif shrieked, brandishing her axe in front of her. Eola had raised the body of the Dunmer mage and cast mage armour on herself, Dawnbreaker at the ready. The battle was on.

Elisif spend most of it hiding behind a shield she'd found, darting out from behind it to strike with her axe, sometimes missing, sometimes managing to get a glancing blow in. Mostly though it was Eola's magic doing the damage. Sinding swung his claws this way and that, mostly missing or skittering over armour, but one real hit and they could both be down and bleeding.

Eola's zombie Dunmer blasted the wolf with lightning, causing it to stagger back under the impact. She raised Dawnbreaker to strike, and on Sinding's other side, Elisif raced in with her axe at the ready.

Sinding looked up, glared balefully at them both, and suddenly launched himself at Elisif with the last of his strength. She swung her axe, catching his left arm, but his right was still working and his claws raked down the left side of Elisif's face in a spray of blood. Elisif staggered back, crying out in shock, hand clutching her cheek as blood poured over it.

"ELISIF!" Eola screamed, horrified at the sight. Sweet gods, they were miles from the nearest proper healer, her own skills were good but limited and even someone like Aranea or Calixto might never be able to properly heal damage like that. Sinding turned to her, something like spiteful satisfaction in his eyes. Maybe he wasn't going to win this one but he could make sure Elisif never forgot him.

Eola was quite willing to ensure Sinding carried the memory of her into the afterlife and beyond. Flames in one hand, Dawnbreaker in the other, Eola the Fire Huntress was ready.

Sinding was not. He raised his claws to give Eola the same treatment he'd served Elisif – and then blood exploded from the back of his head as Elisif's axe clove his skull in two. The light went out of Sinding's eyes as he fell to the ground, dead. Behind him, Elisif was standing, the half of her face not covered in red pale as death and her remaining good eye with tears flowing. Then her knees gave way and she collapsed to the floor.

"Elisif," Eola gasped, racing to her side. A telekinesis spell brought their packs over, and then every single healing potion either of them had was either being poured down Elisif's throat or over her face, Eola's entire magicka being expended on healing spell after healing spell, until it ran out and then Eola would drink magicka restorants until her reserve filled up again. Finally, it was done. Elisif was as healed as she was going to get. It was never going to be enough.

"Mirror," Elisif whispered. "For the love of Mara, get me a mirror."

Shaking, Eola produced the small hand mirror she'd picked up at Riverwood. Elisif stared back at her new reflection.

Truth be told, it wasn't as bad as it could have been. Two thin parallel scars down her cheek, but the nasty one was the one that cut across Elisif's left eye, claiming her sight in it forever. Eola had done her best but eyes were notoriously difficult to fix. At least Elisif had kept the eye, but it was blind and sightless like Eola's own.

Elisif threw the mirror down, covering her face with her hands.

"He will never want me again," Elisif said, her voice sunk in despair. "No one will want to look at me again. How can I be queen like this?"

Eola held her as Elisif sobbed her heart out on her shoulder. She wanted very much to tell her it was going to be all right, but in all honesty, she wasn't entirely sure how Madanach would react to this. Devastated, angry, yes of course, what husband wouldn't be? But would he still stand by Elisif and love her? Eola hoped so, but he'd walked away from Mireen when she'd turned into a Hagraven. Eola hadn't blamed him for that, Mireen had been a vicious shrew before the metamorphosis. Would he do the same to Elisif though? Eola hoped not. She'd grown fond of Elisif.

"Plenty of Nord rulers have had battle scars, some of them even lost an eye," said Eola. "Why not you?"

"They were men," Elisif whispered. "Fierce warriors, Nord heroes, everyone expects them to fight and have a few scars to show for it. And that was in the days of old, it's different now! Jarls aren't meant to get that close to the fight these days! Certainly women Jarls aren't meant to. Elisif the Fair, they call me. The Fair!" Elisif burst into tears again.

"Then we'll call you something else," said Eola softly, stroking her hair. "We'll get you some war paint to hide the scars a bit and then we'll get you on your throne again, and absolutely no one's going to talk down to you or treat you like a child ever again, because you caved in a werewolf's skull with an axe and people respect you when you can do things like that. Come on, weren't we meant to skin this guy?"

"Let's do it," said Elisif grimly. She took the dagger Eola gave her and made her way over to Sinding's corpse. She'd not really had a lot of experience with skinning beasts and it showed. It took nearly an hour and the result was not something you'd be getting a good price for in any halfway decent blacksmith's store. But it was done.

Hircine materialised, nodding in approval.

"Well done, little hunter. You have more fire in you than I thought. I'm impressed. Thank you. I consider the thief adequately punished." The ring on Elisif's finger flickered and was gone. Elisif sighed as it vanished. At least one problem had sorted itself out.

"Can you heal my face as well?" Elisif asked hopefully. Hircine shook his head.

"I am a hunter, not a healer, mortal. True hunters keep their scars as a memento, a tribute to worthy prey. Do not hide them in shame, little one. You took on a mighty foe and lived and all will know now that you are strong. And just in case they need convincing – he hurt your face, so now I will give you his. When any ask you who wounded you, tell them you're wearing him."

The werewolf pelt shifted in Elisif's arms, shrinking and reshaping as it turned into a set of leather and metal armour, Sinding's face forming the centrepiece on the breastplate. Elisif ran her fingers over it, staring at it in awe. There was enchantment laced into it, she could tell – magic and poison resistance.

"Thank you," she gasped, but Hircine was gone.

"Try it on," Eola urged. Elisif disappeared behind a rock and changed into it. It fit perfectly, moulding itself to her body. It was supremely comfortable, if a little revealing. On the other hand, at least it being this low cut meant no one would be looking at her face. A small mercy.

Eola whistled as Elisif came back.

"Well, look at you, wolf slayer! Don't you look all bad-ass!"

Elisif had to admit, she didn't look like a helpless little princess any more. She didn't feel like one either. She felt... stronger. Fiercer. Angrier. Definitely angry. Angry at the bastard who'd taken her looks out of spite. Angry at the world for making them the be all and end all anyway. Angry at those who'd taken her from her husband's arms in the first place. Angry at pretty much everyone. But not the woman in front of her.

"I couldn't have done it without you. Thank you, Eola. If there's ever anything I can do for you, you let me know. I'm not murdering innocent people, but anything reasonably ethical and within my power, you just have to ask."

"Oh honey, let's get you back to Markarth before we start thinking about favours owed," said Eola sadly. "We need to get you back to Da and then back on your throne first." She finished cleaning the blade on the ebony war axe and handed it back to Elisif. "Here. This is yours now. A fierce werewolf-killing warrior queen deserves a proper weapon, don't you think?"

Elisif tucked the axe into her belt. "You don't have to do that," she said, fighting tears again.

"Yeah, I do," said Eola. "I kind of feel responsible. Besides, I already have Dawnbreaker. I don't need an ebony war axe as well."

Elisif traced her fingers along its handle. It truly was a fine piece of work and it had served her well. No enchantment – well, she had a few skills in that area, she'd have to see about sorting that out. It'd need a name too. Hmm. She'd have to think of something. The prospect almost took her mind off Madanach's likely reaction. Almost.

"Do you think Madanach will be very angry when he sees me like this?" Elisif asked nervously.

"Yes, probably," Eola sighed, taking Elisif's hand. "But not at you. Come on, we're not far from the border. There's a Forsworn camp at Serpent's Bluff – once we're there, they can get us over the border via all the mountain trails and down into Markarth that way. By tomorrow night, we'll be there."

Tomorrow night. Back in civilisation, and with the prospect of everyone pointing and staring and then seeing her husband again and... well, if he still wanted her as his wife of course. He'd probably not publicly repudiate her, not when he'd married for peace, not love. But would he still look on her as tenderly as he did before? Unlikely. Her marriage could be over before it had even started.

Despair in her heart, she followed Eola out.

A/N: See? Kodlak's not dead! I couldn't do that to Cicero in the end. Having his wife and his father trying or succeeding to kill each other... no, he's suffered enough.

Poor Elisif though. I really wasn't sure about doing that to her, but on the other hand, I wanted to set her firmly on a warrior's path and have everyone take her seriously as one. Maybe she's not movie star pretty any more, but she's never been better equipped to show up in Solitude and kick a few arses.