That infernal knocking was driving him mad.

"Oh, for Dagon's sake." Harrow clenched his teeth and drummed his fingers against the slab of polished stone he had been using as a desk. Apparently, his brethren couldn't take the hint that he just wanted to be left alone. He had a terrible headache and really was not in the mood for anything except rest at the moment. "What?" he snapped, his voice dripping with annoyance.

"Dawn is breaking, Brother Harrow, sir! News!"

"Wonderful." It was the irritating Breton again. Ernand, or Ernard... Eduard, perhaps? Harrow didn't care. 'Irritating Breton' fit better, anyway. His little snippets of news never seemed to be good ones. The Dunmer sighed wretchedly, rubbing his forehead - he was beginning to understand why Ruma and Raven had been so irritable all the time.

Well, before they got splattered and stabbed, respectively. Harrow imagined that it would be rather difficult to be bad-tempered in Paradise. Could people get headaches there...?

The Breton cleared his throat, nervously. "The preparations for the Gates are ready, brother. Uh, sir. Our agents in all the major cities have reported that they are prepared at any time, and will proceed upon your word."

"Excellent." This was surprisingly good news! Harrow felt better already. "Thankyou. Any more information about the Septim Heir's little lapdog?"

"He has a dog, sir?"

And there was the headache again. "The girl. Pente." He paused. "It's a metaphor."

"Oh. Nothing much. No sightings of her after Leyawiin."

"Alright. You're dismissed." Harrow waved the Breton away, scowling. "That means go away." Stupid fetcher. Glumly, the Dark Elf closed his eyes in an attempt to block out the pain building in his temples. He was going to have to contact Mankar. Something to look forward to, he thought, sourly. Ooh, maybe he'll rant at me enough so that I fall asleep. That would be wonderful! Bah.

Harrow let out a pained little groan. Maybe being in charge of a Daedric cult wasn't all it was cracked up to be, after all...

Warm.

Warm feels nice. I like warm. Good things are warm, like sunny days and sitting by the fire and fresh cake and... whatever this is. I like it; it's warm. Not like cold things. Cold things are horrible.

Wasn't I cold just before...?

Pente's eyes snapped open as she remembered what had happened. The armour, running through the door, the ice that had prickled and stung as it covered her flesh... But she was alright now, safe and warm and... and cuddled?

She emitted a tiny, shocked squeak as she realised that the warmth surrounding her was caused by Baurus, who was holding her close in what could only be described as a hug.

Oh m-my.

"Oh, you're awake?" Baurus breathed a huge sigh of relief. "Thank Talos. Don't scare me like that."

"I..." Responding was proving difficult. It was hard for Pente to form complete sentences when her mind was currently running along the lines of 'hug eep oh my hugging gosh what now it's a hug I'm being hugged'. She blinked a few times to clear her thoughts. "S-sorry."

"How're you feeling? All warmed up? Any pain anywhere? You hit the floor pretty hard," Baurus said, with concern. "Not that I know any spells to fix you up with. That's why I thought it'd be safer to warm you up this way. If I used magic, you'd end up with your hair burned off."

"Oh." Pente really wished that she could remember how words were supposed to work. "Still cold," she said, hopefully. Baurus laughed, and held her more tightly. A happy sigh escaped Pente's lips - this was nice. Purely for warming purposes, obviously. She felt like she could stay this way forever, if it wasn't for --

"AGH!" she screamed, pulling away and pointing wildly. Another bloody skeleton! Instinct took over and she shot a blast of Stark Reality at the figure, divesting it of its armour. Baurus took advantage of the skeleton's confusion and knocked its head off with one swift swipe of his katana, the bones clattering horribly as they hit the floor. Pente sighed, shakily. Ph-phew.

"Good reflexes," the Redguard panted. "That was too close. Good thing you were here!" It seemed to have escaped his notice that Pente was the reason he hadn't seen the skeleton in the first place, but Pente was too distracted to bring that to his attention. Raising a shaking finger, she pointed over Baurus' shoulder.

He turned around only to find himself face-to-face with a ghost. Uttering a cry of shock, Baurus attacked the spirit with his blade. The ghost barely reacted, simply looking mournfully down at the floor.

"That wasn't very nice." The glowing figure sniffed, looking at Pente and Baurus with sad, accusing eyes. "Rather rude, actually. I just wanted to say thankyou, and what do I get? Attempted murder. If you can murder someone who's already dead, that is." The ghost tilted his head to one side, examining Baurus. "That's a very nice sword you have, though. Mine was a lot like that."

"You... what..." Baurus gaped, and turned to Pente for support. "Um..."

"G-g-ghost," Pente said, helpfully.

"Oh, yes. Very observant. Remind me to rub it in when you two die, too." The ghost folded his arms dramatically. "If you hadn't freed me from the Underking's curse, I'd be quite upset." He softened, slightly. "Thankyou for that, brother Blade. I'm Alain."

"You were a Blade too?" Baurus asked. It was an unbelievably creepy feeling to be speaking to a dead person so casually, but he had no choice. Pente certainly didn't seem to be up to anything even approaching conversation.

"G-ghost," she whispered, confirming Baurus' thoughts.

He turned back to Alain. "Uh, so... Do you know how we're supposed to get the armour of Tiber Septim?" Baurus motioned towards the corridor where the armour lay. "My friend kind of got caught by the magic trap business in there..."

"Oh. That." Alain emitted a ghostly sigh. "More of the Underking's work... If you can free my friends, I'm sure we could do something. There were four of us, altogether. We all got cursed. It's a very sad story, would you like to hear it?"

"I don't think we have time," Baurus said, hastily. "We'll go help your friends. C'mon, Pente."

"Ghost," she whimpered, scurrying after the Redguard as quickly as she could.

Aranwen fluffed her hair carefully, her face displaying a satisfied little smile. Perfect! She turned to Jauffre and giggled. "Oops. Looks like I left my mark, sweetie!" She lifted her hand and wiped away a red smear of lipstick from his face. "There."

"Quite," Jauffre croaked. "Indeed."

"Come, dear. I left our Rotmeth out in the hall. You should taste some... It's very good," she purred. Jauffre gulped, and Aranwen led the way towards the Great Hall, humming a happy little tune. As they passed by the armoury, a figure emerged from the doorway. Aranwen gasped, stopping dead in her tracks. "Oh! Who are you?"

"Hmm?" The muscular Nord blinked, then smiled proudly. "Oh! I am Styrbrand, the Unbelievably Mighty! Touched by Destiny! Marked for greatness! Chosen by the Nine --"

"Styrbrand?" Jauffre asked, confused. "What are you doing here? Why? Who let you in? This is most unusual --"

"Oooh, you know him?" Aranwen trilled. "What's the story there, dear? He seems like a fine young man." She patted Jauffre's arm reassuringly. "Not at all my type, of course. I prefer someone with more... experience."

Jauffre managed to restrain himself. "Ah, um, yes. Quite. So, Styrbrand, why have you, uhm..." he paused. "...Graced us with your presence?"

"Um." Styrbrand pouted. Why was it that nobody ever let him finish his introductions anymore? And why wasn't Jauffre pleased to see him? That Bosmer had promised to put in a good word for him! She'd promised! "I came from Bruma. With the Countess. Uh, that girl said she'd ask you if I could --"

"The Countess?!" Jauffre yelped. "Countess Narina Carvain? Here? Where is she?"

The Nord shrugged, sulkily. "In the big room with Brother Martin."

"Why was I not informed of this?" fumed Jauffre, storming out. There was a short silence as Aranwen ran a critical eye over Styrbrand. Hmm. He'll do.

"Darling. You came from Bruma? When you go back there, would you mind sending this message for me?" She fished a handwritten list from the pocket of her dress and batted her eyelashes, hopefully. "It's a clothing order that I need to get delivered. Very important. I was going to ask one of the Blades to do it, but as you're such a big, strong, powerful man, I'm sure it'll be no problem for you, dear!"

Styrbrand sagged, despite the flattery. Why was it that the only people who ever paid any attention to him were crazy Bosmers?

..."And then he said, 'but brother - I'm afraid that's my wife!'" Martin explained. Narina burst out laughing.

"Goodness! I never thought the life of a priest could be so interesting!" She drained her latest glass of Rotmeth, smiling. How many had they had, now...? No matter. Gosh, it was good for warming you up, though! "Ahh. You're a lot more than you appear to be, aren't you, Martin Septim?"

"That's nothing. It pales into insignificance compared with tales about the place I used to hide away my valuables while I was in the chapel --"

"My lady!" Jauffre burst into the room, bowing his head in apology. "I was not informed of your arrival! I assure you, had I been told that you were coming, I would have arranged for a more hospitable welcome."

"Oh, Jauffre!" Narina got to her feet. "I am very mad with you. Very mad indeed. You've been a very bad..." she paused, thoughtfully. "...A very bad Jauffre."

The Grandmaster's eye twitched. "My lady?"

"Yes," Narina said, firmly. She wished Jauffre would stop swaying like that - it made it very difficult to concentrate. "Why didn't you tell me about these Mythic Dawn people, hmm? And you kept Martin a secret, too! Why did you do that? Martin is a lovely," she beamed.

"I certainly am," added Martin, smiling widely. "A lovely lovely." He dissolved into undignified laughter, apparently finding the situation hilarious. Narina seemed to agree.

"Ah, yes. Yes, you are." Jauffre shook with silent horror. The future Emperor of Tamriel and the Countess of Bruma appeared to be drunk. This was not good.

"There's another one!" Baurus yelled. "Go!"

"O-okay!" Pente squeaked, aiming her Stark Reality spell at another skeletal Blade. As it reeled from the impact, Baurus charged forward to attack. With a satisfying clash of metal on bone, the skeleton collapsed to the ground and released the spirit trapped within. Pente cheered - this was easy! It was so refreshing to not be struggling for once. The ghosts didn't even seem too scary, anymore!

Well, as long as she stayed hidden behind Baurus. But still, it was a remarkable improvement!

"That's the last one, right?" grinned Baurus, sheathing his katana. "We make a great team!"

"I know!" Pente enthused. "I m-mean, I didn't do much, but you were really good."

"You were the one who made it so easy! That spell seems like a neat trick to know," said Baurus, starting to walk back towards the circular room. "What's not to like about a spell that removes peoples' clothes? You'll have to teach me it sometime..."

"You don't need it!" Pente chirped, oblivious as ever. "Not with weapon skills like yours!"

Baurus' mouth twisted into an amused smirk. "Yeah, I've been told I'm really good at using a sword."

"I can tell! You should teach me," she replied, smiling shyly. "I m-mean, I could always stand to learn new things."

"Hey, I just might take you up on that!" Baurus laughed, raising his eyebrows. Pente blinked, confused - what was so funny?

"Oh. Hello again..." Alain, the first ghost, waved a spectral hand. "You did it. Well done, I suppose..." He trailed off, glumly. "We'll just go and make it safe for you to get the armour. No no, don't worry about us... We can't get hurt. You know, being dead..."

"S-sorry," said Pente, shivering.

"Not a problem, Blademaiden," Alain replied, drifting slowly towards the room containing the armour. "It'll be nice to finally get some rest..."

A glowing light spread throughout the room as the ghostly Blades began to work against the Underking's frost enchantment. Pente turned to Baurus. "It must be so depressing being dead," she whispered, fervently.

"Let's try and avoid finding out for sure, then." Baurus walked over to pick up the armour. "Come on. It's time we got back to Cloud Ruler."

"What's going on?" asked Aranwen, suspiciously. She had finished talking with Styrbrand, and was not happy at what she had found in the Great Hall. Not one bit.

She fumed, glaring around the room. A woman! Talking with my Jauffre! And Pente's Martin! Drinking my Rotmeth! I bet the hussy couldn't even appreciate it, leaf-eater that she is. Silly woman. What's she doing here?!

Jauffre sighed. "Narina, Aranwen. Aranwen, this is Narina, Countess of Bruma. She was just about to give me some rather important information, so if you wouldn't mind --"

"And getting this information involves plying her with my Rotmeth?" the Bosmer interrupted, snatching the bottle from the table. Empty. She scowled at Narina with intense dislike.

"Sorry. My fault," Martin apologised. "You were correct, though. 'S very good."

Jauffre held his head in his hands, his muffled voice tinged with despair. "Countess. You mentioned a note?"

"Oh, yes!" Narina passed Jauffre the scrap of parchment that detailed Jearl's orders. "There you go!"

"There, all done. Now, shouldn't you be leaving?" Aranwen snapped. "It's getting rather late."

"Ohh..." Narina sighed. "But I didn't get to see any of the things Martin was telling me about! The library, the architecture, the armoury... I'm very interested in Akaviri weapons," she explained, smiling brightly. Martin let out a very un-Emperor-like cackle.

"Styrbrand!" Jauffre called, desperately, a pained expression on his face. It was definitely time to end the meeting before things got out of hand.

"I suppose I'm leaving, then..." Narina sighed. "Pity. The castle can get so boring."

"You should come and visit!" Martin suggested. "Then you can see the... the things I told you about. All those." He waved his arm, grandly.

"I'll do that!" Narina beamed, wandering unsteadily towards the doors, where Styrbrand was waiting for her. "I shall see you... see you sometime... later. Yes!"

Martin waved, happily. "Farewell!"

"Where's Penny?" Aranwen asked, as soon as Narina was out of the doors. If Martin was tipsy from the Rotmeth, she may as well make use of it. A few well-placed words from Pente, a little flirting...

Jauffre scratched his head. "Yes, where is she? And where is Baurus?" He scowled, slightly. "If they've run off without informing anyone again, they shall have to be disciplined."

Aranwen squealed. "Ooh, darling! That sounds --"

"AHEM. Ah, Martin. Do you know where they are?" Jauffre asked, desperately trying to ignore Aranwen's cooing in his ear. Martin put a thoughtful finger to his lips.

"Oh, yes. That place you mentioned. Sancre Tor." Martin smiled. "They went to get the ancestor. Ah, armour. My ancestor's armour. Something like that. Very, very important."

"What?!" Jauffre gasped. "They went to Sancre Tor? On their own?"

"Yes."

"Sancre Tor? The place nobody has come back from alive for years?"

"I think that's the one. You know it, then?"

It was getting dark. What's more, it was snowing. Again. Pente sighed as she walked up the mountain, dreaming of a day that she would return to Cloud Ruler from one of her adventures and find that she wasn't getting snowed on.

Ooh, it'll be s-so nice. And it has to happen at some point! It'll probably be the same day that I manage to go somewhere without getting scared out of my wits. And my arrival back at the temple will be heralded with mountains of cake, a soft bed, and the news that my mother has converted to not-being-insane-ism.

A girl can dream, damn it.

"Cold?" Baurus asked, sympathetically. "It's really not been your day, has it? First your weapon breaks and almost gets you killed, then you get frozen, scared by ghosts, soaked with snow..."

"Y-yep." Pente chose not to mention that all this was pretty much escaping unscathed, as far as she was concerned. "H-horrible."

"Don't worry. You'll feel better when we get back." The Redguard winked. "I'll help you make another cake, or something."

"We can't." She sounded more depressed than ever. "My mother, remember?"

"Oh, yeah. We can't let her know you're a bad, cake-eating little heathen." He launched into a remarkably accurate impression of Aranwen, pursing his lips and wagging his finger bossily. "CAKE? Now, darling dearie Pennyface, you know how I feel about leaves. This is barbaric! Couldn't you at least put some of the flesh of your enemies into the mixture? Honestly. Such a disappointment."

Pente's eyes widened in horror, and she stopped walking. "D-don't do that!"

"What?"

"That! Act like my mother! Do you know j-just how disturbing that is?!"

"Judging by your expression..." Baurus stroked his chin, surveying Pente critically. "A seven out of ten on the disturbingness scale."

"I'd say eight." Pente shook her head. "It's like if I decided to imitate Jauffre, or something. S-so wrong."

"Go on, then."

Pente blinked. "What?"

"Act like Jauffre. I dare you."

"You dare me?" Pente tilted her head to one side, bemused. Well, what was the harm? She stood on tiptoe and assumed a grumpy expression, hands on her hips. "Uh, um. I am Jauffre!" she said lamely, deepening her voice as much as she could. "Don't do this! Don't do that! Uh... Talos' toenails! Clean up this mess!"

Without warning, Baurus leaped forward, tackling Pente into the snow. He once again imitated Aranwen's voice as the wriggling Bosmer shrieked and struggled furiously. "Oh, Jauffrecuddlekins! You know I can't resist when you talk like that!"

"What i-in Oblivion are y-- Get OFF!" Pente screeched, her voice returned to its usual squeaky pitch.

Baurus hugged Pente tight, cackling. "Oh, you know that it's so cute when you struggle, darling dearest!"

"Stop it!"

"You can't resist!"

"Stop, you're getting snow in my..."

She fell silent as Baurus' lips pressed gently against her own. Her mind was wiped blank, focused only on that small point of contact. She even forgot about the snow.

Baurus pulled away, that infuriating smile back on his face. "Told you."

Pente squeaked. Baurus wasn't surprised.

Notes: Insert massive soppy grin here. Bwahaha!