Chapter 34: Uneasy Alliances

The Greybeard's had been surprised to see Lumen back so soon, and they had been downright annoyed when she asked them to hold a peace council. She understood why they weren't pleased. They had never wished to be involved in political affairs, and neither did she. But in the end, Arngeir had said, "Paarthurnax has made the decision to help you. This is the road we have to walk. Even the Greybeards must bend to the winds of change, it seems. So be it. Tell Ulfric and General Tullius that the Greybeards wish to speak to them. We will see if they still remember us."

Now Lumen approaches the gates of Karthspire. The Forsworn camp seems to grow and expand every time she visits, and now the place is a veritable fortress. Madanach has been very busy, it seems. The camp's population has grown as well, and Lumen stares up at the wooden ramparts, searching for a familiar face and finding none.

"I wouldn't come any closer, if I were you!" A guard hefts a spear aloft, ready to strike. "Go back the way you came, traveler!"

Lumen pats Shadowmere's neck after his ears flick backwards at the man's threat, the last thing she needs is for her horse to attack the man once they get through the gates. "I need to speak with Madanach!" she calls to the guard. "Tell him the Dragonborn is here to see him!"

"Yeah, sure, and I'm Tiber Septim himself," the guard says, and the other men on the ramparts start to laugh. "Go on now! Off with you!"

Behind her, she can hear Cicero mutter something about Shouting him off the ramparts, but she ignores him, even though the temptation to follow through is strong. "Where is Uraccen?" she asks. "He'll recognize me."

"Recognize you from where, little elf? I certainly don't recognize you."

"From this very camp!" she snarls, and the guards snicker at her obvious annoyance. "I met him here!"

"Ah, and now you've met me, but I'm still not letting you in," the guard says cheerfully, as he winks at her. "Now go on, I would hate to have to stick a spear through your pretty, little head!"

"Give me a fucking break," she hisses under her breath. "I have information that Madanach will want to hear! So go get Uraccen, or Borkul-" she pauses, wondering if he'll let her in if she rattles off enough names. "Or even Liadan, if you are allowed to speak with her, that is."

Upon hearing the name of their resident hagraven, some of the guards begin to murmur amongst themselves. The particular guard that has been giving her grief lowers his spear, and after a hushed conversation with his fellow warriors he says, "You wait right there, little elf." And then he vanishes over the edge of the ramparts, presumably to fetch Uraccen.

"Is it a prerequisite for all guards to be annoying shits?" Lumen dismounts Shadowmere, taking the horse by the reigns to keep him still so Cicero may do the same. She ordered Luka and Arnbjorn to go on ahead, and they would catch up later down the road. This visit shouldn't take long. All she has to do is speak with Madanach and get that dossier from Delphine.

Cicero grunts when his feet hit the ground. "It seems like it," he says. "It also seems like the title of 'Dragonborn' carries little weight around the Forsworn."

"I noticed," she says, still prickling with irritation from being laughed at.

Minutes pass, and Lumen's annoyance grows. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, and folds her arms with a huff. While she certainly doesn't expect the Forsworn to roll out the red carpet for her, a little respect would be nice. She and Madanach have a working relationship, after all.

Finally the gates open, and the annoying guard waves them in. "Come on, little elf. It seems like you aren't completely full of hot air."

Uraccen stands beside the guard, grinning at Lumen's obvious irritation. "You'll have to forgive him," he says. "He's new to this and a little over-eager."

"I can tell," she says, patting Shadowmere and leaving him to graze inside the gates. "I realize my visit is unexpected, but I have news for Madanach."

"What sort of news?" Uraccen asks. "He is rather busy, but I am sure he'll make time for you if it's important."

"I'm supposed to convince Ulfric Stormcloak and General Tullius to meet at High Hrothgar to engage in peace talks," Lumen says tersely. "You think he might be interested in hearing about that?"

"Follow me, Dragonborn," he says quickly. "Madanach will definitely want to hear of this."

Lumen sticks her tongue out at the annoying guard as she passes him by, and holds her head high as she follows Uraccen through the crowded camp. Cicero is at her side, humming a soft tune as his keen eyes scan the area, searching for any sign of danger to his Listener. The gentle, lilting melody is a stark contrast to the organized chaos of the Forsworn camp. There are people constantly moving about the camp and children running free, left to their own devices while their parents work.

Uraccen leads them to the far side of the camp, where the noise of the main camp is merely a distant murmur rather than a lively din. Madanach is pointing out something on a map of Skyrim, having a hushed conversation with Borkul and a small group of Forsworn warriors. They look a bit older than the warriors guarding the gates, and she wonders if they are leaders of the various camps that have joined Madanach at Karthspire.

"Wait here," Uraccen murmurs, stepping away from Cicero and Lumen to whisper in Madanach's ear.

The old warlord's posture grows tense at the news. "Dismissed, all of you," he barks. "We'll continue this later. Something has just come up." Uraccen inclines his head and leaves the area with the Forsworn warriors trailing behind him, and Madanach turns to face Lumen and Cicero. "Tell me why you of all people are organizing a peace talk."

"Because no one else will do it, apparently." Lumen perches on the edge of the table, nervously fiddling with the belts of her armor. "And because I need to trap a dragon in Dragonsreach, but Balgruuf won't help me unless Ulfric and Tullius agree to a temporary truce. And before you ask, no, I don't know why he thinks I can organize this. Diplomacy isn't exactly my strong point. I kill my enemies, I don't bargain with them."

"He thinks you can do it because you're the Dragonborn," Madanach says, groaning softly as he sits in a nearby chair. "What he doesn't know is that you're the leader of a cult of assassins and that the emperor's blood is on your hands." He scratches his chin and narrows his eyes at her. "Why come here, though?"

"I thought you'd like to know," she says with a shrug. "And maybe I thought you'd have some advice for me."

He laughs at that. "I appreciate the courtesy," he says, offering her a tight smile. "Exactly what sort of advice do you think I can offer?"

"I don't know," she sighs. "I don't even know what happens at a peace council. Do I just make Ulfric and Tullius hug it out?"

"Now that is something I would like to see," he says, laughing again, although his laugh is more bitter than it was before. "I can't say what will happen, but I suppose I can give you a rough idea. Peace talks typically include land trades, prisoner exchanges, and weregild payments. Things like that. Although I doubt you will be in charge of such matters, you just have to get Ulfric and Tullius together in the same room without a fight breaking out."

"Wait- The Empire has control of Markarth right now. What will you do if Ulfric demands it?"

Madanach is deathly quiet for many minutes, and Lumen regrets even asking such a question. "Do you think he'll ask for it?"

"I don't know," she shrugs. "I would, if I were him. Those silver mines are worth a fortune."

"If Ulfric asks for Markarth, and if he gets his way, do me a favor and let me know, will you?"

"Yeah, sure," she says, watching Madanach closely. He's acting a bit strange. She'd expected a more violent reaction to the news of peace talks and to the possibility of Markarth falling under Stormcloak control. He paid the Dark Brotherhood well to deal with the Silver-Bloods. Surely he'd be angry to know it was all for nothing.

"Do you need anything else?" he asks gruffly. "I have more important things to do than to be gawked at by a silly elf."

"I'm not gawking, I'm thinking," Lumen snaps.

"Think elsewhere," he says, pushing away from the chair and coming to stand at the table. "And get off my map."

"I thought you'd be more upset about this."

"What do you expect me to do, girl?" he asks, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "Rant and rave, and toss a few fireballs around for good measure? I can't stop the inevitable. But I can plan for it. Now, go on. I have things to do."

Lumen sighs and hops off the table. "Right. Well, don't say I didn't warn you," she says, not bothering to hide her annoyance at being unceremoniously shooed away. "Come on, Cicero, let's go find Delphine."

Sky Haven temple is cleaner than Lumen recalls. Noisier, too. There are recruits milling about the large temple, all shooting curious glances her way. She finds Delphine in the temple's main hall, pouring over some documents and old books. The stormy expression on Delphine's face only grows darker when she sees Lumen walk in.

"You've been busy," Lumen says, trying to keep her voice light. She and Delphine have always had an uneasy relationship, and something tells her it's about to get even worse. Although she isn't sure why Delphine looks so angry. "I thought you were trying to keep a low profile?"

"Nothing remains a secret forever, Dragonborn," Delphine says. "But the Empire is too busy trying to appoint a new emperor to care about us, and the Forsworn have taken care of the few, scant Thalmor patrols that have wandered too close to the temple." She pushes away from the table and walks over to Lumen. Even though the Breton stands a few inches shorter than her, she is no less intimidating. "How can I help you, Lumen? I didn't expect to see you back so soon."

"I need the dossier on Ulfric Stormcloak," she says, trying not to let Delphine's grim mood affect her. "Do you still have it?"

"I do, and I'll give it to you. But why do you need it?"

"I'm going to give it to Ulfric," she says, and the murmur of the recruit's quiet conversations suddenly vanishes. Delphine says nothing, but she motions for Lumen to follow her. She leads her up a large staircase and into a small room outfitted with a bed, a dresser, and numerous weapon racks. "Ah, this must be your room. This is definitely your style."

"Hush." Delphine closes the door to the room, which only adds to Lumen's mounting frustration with the woman. "Why are you giving Ulfric the dossier?"

"I need him to trust me. If I give him the dossier, it'll be a show of good faith, right?"

"Or he'll kill you on the spot for knowing what's in it!"

"He's not going to kill the Dragonborn," Lumen snorts.

"Cicero would like to know what Delphine is so afraid of." He's not pleased with the way Delphine spoke to his Listener, but the Grandmaster's palpable fear has him concerned. "Is Ulfric such a brute that he would kill a potential ally?"

"Maybe," Delphine says, forcing her voice into something more calm. "He killed the High King without a moment's hesitation. According to my sources, the High King had been willing to speak with Ulfric. But Ulfric used the power of the Thu'um against him and killed him."

"I'm not the High King," Lumen says, folding her arms and huffing in irritation. Ulfric is just a man, but everyone is making him out to be something more, and it's annoying. "I'm not a politician, and I am not doing this for any gain. So will you just give me the dossier so I can be on my way?"

"Fine," Delphine sighs and turns away to search through a locked chest. Lumen watches the woman curiously. She seemed so angry when Lumen showed up, although she gave no indication as to why. While Delphine is a serious woman, she is not one to give in to anger without reason. But right now, Lumen has no wish to find out what her reason is. She'll ask later, perhaps, when she's done catering to jarls and generals.

"Thank you," she says as Delphine places the worn dossier in her hands. "Oh, I almost forgot, there will be a peace conference at High Hrothgar soon, you should come. It should be interesting."

"It might be boring," Cicero says. "Politicians are only interesting when they're doing something naughty, and a peace negotiation is hardly naughty."

"Wait- a peace conference? When?" Delphine gasps. "And why?"

"I don't know when. Soon, though," she says with more confidence than she truly feels. "And I am tired of explaining why. Go ask Madanach. He knows all about it."

"Of course he does," the Breton says with some annoyance.

"Anyway, thanks for the dossier," she says, reaching to the door. "I'll see you at High Hrothgar."

"Lumen, wait-" Delphine steps forward, placing her hand on the door of her small bedroom, effectively trapping the assassins inside. "There's something else," she says, and Lumen doesn't miss the hint of danger threading through the Breton's voice.

"Okay," she speaks slowly, drawing out the word. Her eyes flick to Cicero, and even though his lips are quirked into a tight smile, she does not miss the gleam of annoyance in his eyes. He's a mere second away from pulling his knife on her, and Lumen doesn't think she could keep him from killing her. The first time Cicero met Delphine, he held a knife to her throat for 'manhandling' his Listener, and ever since then he's had a chip on her shoulder in regards to the woman.

"I know about Paarthurnax."

"Good for you?"

Delphine sighs, exasperated with the Dragonborn for the umpteenth time. "Did you know that Paarthurnax was the right hand of Alduin? Did you know that he committed atrocities that are so infamous that they are still remembered, thousands of years later?"

"I like this dragon more and more," Cicero murmurs.

"I didn't know that," Lumen admits, a cold, prickle of dread skittering down her spine. She knows what Delphine is going to ask, and she also knows that it's going to go very poorly when she refuses. "But he's hardly committing atrocities now."

"So? He needs to pay for his crimes!"

"What exactly are you asking me to do, Delphine?" Lumen asks, drawing herself up to her full height, staring down at the shorter woman.

"I'm asking you to do your duty as the Dragonborn and kill him."

"No."

"Why?" she demands, incensed.

"Because he helped me," Lumen says, annoyed that she even has to explain herself at this point. "And because I like him."

"You like him?" she asks. "That's your basis for letting his crimes go unpunished? You like him?"

"Yes." Lumen folds her arms. "And don't act like you were affected by his crimes. It's not as if you were around when he was- I don't know, razing villages and roasting sheep, or whatever. Although I can't imagine him doing anything like that. He's like an old, lazy cat. Sleeping his days away in the sun."

"Meanwhile his victims-"

"Are dead! If he'd not got to them, they'd be dead anyway! It was a thousand years ago!" She starts laughing, which only makes Delphine glower at her even more. "Damn, Delphine. Let it go."

"I would be forgoing my oath as a Blade if I 'let it go'!" She starts to pace around the small room. "He deserves to die for his crimes! He helped Alduin enslave our ancestors!"

"Then you kill him."

"You know I can't!" Delphine snaps. "It falls to you!"

"I won't do it," Lumen says, her voice firm. "He's guided me. He even helped me fight Alduin at the Throat of the World! Whatever he was in the past, he isn't now!"

"He may have betrayed Alduin in the end, but that makes him worse, not better. What if he betrays you in turn, and return to his old master? What then, Dragonborn?"

"If that happens- and it won't, by the way. But if it does, then I will kill him."

"How many countless people will have to die in the meantime?"

Lumen rolls her shoulders, trying to release the tension building between them. How can she explain to Delphine that she really doesn't give a damn about any of this? His past victims are long dead, and who cares about his figurative, future ones? "I can see this means a lot to you," she says, not bothering to hide the sarcasm creeping into her voice. "But I'm not going to kill him. No matter how much you push, no matter how many times you ask, my answer will always remain the same."

"Then we're done," Delphine says, shaking her head. "As a Blade, I can no longer aid you if you refuse to do this. You're either for us, or you're against us."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Lumen snarls, her Thu'um rumbling low in her throat, triggered by her outrage. "I refuse to kill the one civilized dragon in Skyrim and you're kicking me out?"

Delphine looks a bit nervous upon hearing her Thu'um, but she does not waver. "The Blades are dragonslayers. Refusing to kill Paarthurnax marks you as an enemy."

Lumen grits her teeth, wishing to speak- to insult the woman standing before her because she is unable to do much else. But the fury burning in her soul is triggering her Thu'um and she knows her next words will be just as much of a danger to her as they are to Delphine.

"Time to go," Cicero sing-songs. His hand curls around Lumen's arm, and he practically drags her out of the small bedroom and down the stairs that lead to the main hall of the temple. "Not another word, sweetness! Cicero would rather not have an entire temple brought down upon his head!"

Lumen decides to heed Cicero's good advice, and keeps her mouth shut. Glad to leave the temple, and Delphine's angry glares, behind.

The journey to Dawnstar passes quickly. Lumen is content to sit atop Shadowmere and brood, while Cicero tells Arnbjorn and Luka all about the events at Sky Haven Temple. He does embellish a bit, but he gets all the facts straight at least.

The welcome warmth of home is not enough to soothe her frayed nerves. Her brothers head to the common area to greet the family they haven't seen in well over a week. Lumen watches as Cicero lifts his shirt and shows off his newly acquired scar with pride, and if she weren't so lost in her own anger she'd laugh at how Babette and Eola fawn over him. As entertaining as it is to watch, her attention is pulled from the commotion when she feels the Night Mother's tell-tale warmth wrapping around her shoulders.

Lumen grabs a quill and a piece of parchment from a nearby table and sits in front of the Night Mother's shrine. The hissing, ethereal voice fills her ears, lifting her soul, and easing the seething anger Delphine had left her with. Her hands seems to move on its own volition when Mother whispers the names of doomed individuals in her ear, but the writing is her own, unique script. A descending stroke ends in a perfect hairline, a serif is added to a letter she's yet to write, but she knows where is ought to be all the same. Every letter reeks of a perfection that was beaten into her at a young age.

She blows the ink dry, her eyes briefly scanning the page. There is a substantial list of clients and vague descriptions of where to meet them. She would like to help her brothers and sisters tackle such a long list. Nothing made her feel as good as spilling a little blood in the Night Mother's name, but she has other responsibilities to take care of before she returns to her life as an assassin. Gods, she can't wait for that wonderful day.

Her descent into the common area is hardly noticed by the others. They are all too busy laughing at Cicero who has just discovered how to make his scar dance. All except for Arnbjorn and Nazir. The former retreated to his bedroom as soon as they stepped into the Sanctuary, and the latter is sitting at the head of the dining table with his nose stuck in a book.

"Hello, Nazir," she says. "I have a gift." She waves the paper in front of his face to get his attention, smiling when he finally snatches it from her hand.

"Pest," he murmurs with a grin. But it fades when he looks at the list. "Oh, no."

"What is it?" she asks, completely baffled by his strange reaction. "Someone you know?"

"Sort of," he sighs, placing the parchment on the table. "Astrid never filled you in on our relationship with Maven Black-Briar, did she?"

"Astrid wasn't too fond of sharing," is all Lumen can say. Anything else would be too disrespectful to their long-dead leader- as if fucking her husband isn't disrespectful enough. "Want to fill me in?"

"Have a seat," Nazir says, motioning to a nearby chair. "When Astrid was running the Brotherhood, and when we had no Listener, we had to rely on agents to deliver news of potential contracts. We found a lot of these agents through the Thieves Guild, and some we found ourselves."

"I recall her mentioning the use of agents once," Lumen says. "What happened to them?"

"I don't know," he admits, shaking his head. "News of what happened at Falkreath traveled fast, and I think many of the agents were afraid of being hunted down by the Penitus Oculatus. I tried to contact them, but I had no luck. Which is a shame. I thought I'd at least be able to find Juniper. She always did good work, and I wouldn't mind having her back in the fold, but…"

Nazir's voice trails off, and Lumen would rather not think of all that they lost due to Astrid's betrayal. "Tell me about Maven," she says, hoping to steer the subject back to business.

"Maven Black-Briar is a well known name in Skyrim. She hired us a couple times. Sometimes to kill, sometimes to threaten."

"Really?" Lumen can't help but sneer. "Astrid sent Dark Brotherhood assassins to threaten people?"

"We weren't doing so well, and Maven paid us very well for our threats."

"It's degrading," she growls, upset that the Dark Brotherhood was sent to do such menial tasks, and now she has to deal with this Maven person, who probably thinks of the Brotherhood as her own personal attack dogs. Well, she's got another thing coming.

"Be that as it may, the Dark Brotherhood has a long history with Maven. I thought we would be rid of the woman since we no longer have use of Astrid's agents. But it seems as if she finally broke down and performed the Sacrament," Nazir says. "She must be desperate."

"I like desperate," Lumen says. "Desperate people are willing to part with more coin for our services."

Nazir offers her a small smile, but it fades as he looks over the list once again. "I am happy to set up the contracts for you, Listener, but I won't deal with Maven. Someone else will need to speak to her on my behalf."

"All right," she says, albeit confused. "May I ask why?"

"That woman has no sense of propriety," Nazir grumbles. "That's why."

"I need details," she demands, grinning at how embarrassed the stoic Redguard looks. "Don't hold out on me!"

"You know, you should be the one to talk to her," he says, completely ignoring her demands. "It wouldn't hurt to inform her that the Dark Brotherhood has changed leadership."

"Oh, goodie. One more thing for me to do." Lumen grimaces at her bitter thoughts. "Fine, where can I find her?"

"You can find her in Riften."

"All right," she sighs. "I'm heading to Windhelm in a day or two. Riften isn't too far south. I suppose I can go speak with her." As much as she doesn't want to deal with a past client of Astrid's, she is glad to be doing some work for the Brotherhood again. Maven did the Sacrament, and it must be answered with death. If the woman asks Lumen to threaten someone, then the death will be Maven's. Her Brotherhood kills people, they do not deal in petty threats.

"I should probably tell Arnbjorn and Cicero about this. I think the both of them are going to accompany me to Windhelm."

"Good luck, Listener," Nazir says, flipping back to the marked page in his book. "I'll set up the rest of these contracts tomorrow."

"Thanks, Nazir," she says, deciding to take a well deserved bath before she informs her brothers about their little detour. As comfortable as her leathers are, the thought of staying in them for another moment is nearly unbearable. She glances around the large room, wondering where Cicero has gone. It's not like him to leave an audience behind, but she knows he's exhausted after days of travel, and has probably wandered off to their bedroom to rest.

Lumen heads to her bedroom after bidding Nazir a good night. She could almost weep at the sight of the fire blazing in the hearth, her soft bed, and her bathtub, which is filled with steaming, hot water.

"Oh, there you are!" Cicero peers around the privacy screen that shields her bathtub from the door, his freshly washed hair clinging to his pale skin. "Sweet Cicero has drawn you a bath."

"I see that," she says, shutting the door and stepping over to him, loosening the belts of her armor as she walks. "Did you enjoy yours?"

"Oh, yes," he sighs, moving out from behind the screen, and entirely nude except for a towel wrapped around his hips. "I do enjoy traveling with you, but a life on the road is so barbaric. Cicero needs his creature comforts."

"I know what you mean." She drops her hands to her sides when Cicero begins to unfasten her armor, his hands moving quicker than hers ever could. Piece by piece, he helps her shed her confining leathers. "Um, by the way, we're going to Riften after we talk to Ulfric," she says, as she unfastens the clasps of her breast band. "There's a contract I need to set up."

"Really?" he says, a little distracted by the sight of her bared before him. "Cicero thought Nazir typically did such things."

"He usually does," Lumen says, sighing when she eases into the hot, scented bathwater. "But he refuses to deal with this woman."

"So what do we know of this woman?" Cicero sits on the edge of the bathtub, unabashedly staring down at her. Though there isn't much he can see between the bubbles and steam. "She must truly be a terror if Nazir will not speak to her."

"All I know is that she and Astrid had dealings in the past," she says, unable to hide her annoyance, and knowing she doesn't have to around Cicero. "Can you believe Astrid actually sent the Dark Brotherhood to make threats on this woman's behalf? Threats! That's a job for a common thug, not an assassin!"

"Shameful, but necessary at the time. The Dark Brotherhood seemed to be doing quite pitifully before we arrived," he says, completely rational.

Lumen grunts, annoyed that he is not sharing in her anger. She lathers up a washcloth, only to have it plucked from her hands. "I can wash myself, you know."

"I know," he says, his voice oddly even. He is quiet as he cleans the dirt from her face, careful to avoid getting the soap near her eyes and then moving on to her neck and shoulders. "I want to do this. You took care of me when I was injured."

"I mainly hovered and worried," she admits, the fear of that horrible moment coming rushing back. She'll never forget the sight of him falling into blood-covered snow. "I- I was-" the words stick in her throat, but they need to be said. "I was terrified I was going to lose you."

As hot as the water is, a chill washes over her at her admission. It is made even worse when Cicero goes silent and still, his keen eyes boring into hers for seconds that feel like hours. The yawning expanse of silence is made worse by her frantic thoughts running wild. "Oh, no. I've said too much. Why is he staring at me like that? I overstepped, didn't I? Gods. You idiot, girl. Stupid, stupid-"

The gentle touch of his warm hand against her cheek brings her frenzied thoughts to a hault. He takes a breath, his voice shaking when he finally speaks. "No one has ever valued Cicero's life as much as you do," he says quietly. "Not even Cicero himself."

"Oh, well- you know-" she waves her hand, trying to be as nonchalant as possible. "I'd be a shitty Listener if I didn't care."

"You would be a pragmatic Listener if you didn't care. Assassins are expendable," he says, leaning close to her. "And you, my dear Listener, are playing favorites."

"You're not expendable," she says, her mood serious despite his teasing. "And I'm allowed to play favorites."

"Are you?"

"Yes. It's the sixth tenet. A secret tenet that only the Listener knows," she says lightly, hoping her jest isn't verging too close to complete heresy. "It says the Listener is allowed to favor the Keeper above all others, and there's nothing anyone can do about it."

He smiles again, breathing a silent laugh that ghosts across her bare shoulders. She's never seen him like this before- so genuinely happy that it makes her heart ache. He looks years younger. And for a moment it's as if the Sanctuaries never fell, as if he hadn't spent a decade alone, as if he'd never been mistreated by time and loyalty.

Lumen is so lost in that beautiful smile, she is actually startled when he moves in to kiss her. His smiling lips meet hers, which are warm and wet from the bathwater. He kisses her like his life depends on it; rough and needy, and so unbearably honest. But he pulls away too quickly, and his open expression betrays a hint of nervousness she rarely sees in him. Rather than question him, she returns to the task of bathing while he steps away to dress.

While she doesn't question him, she does watch him. He flits around the room wearing a simple pair of trousers, his freshly washed hair still damp, and contrasting nicely with his milky white skin. A light peppering of freckles adorns his shoulders and arms, and she would love to see how many more he would sport if he spent a lazy summer in the Cyrodiil sun. "We could do that," she muses to herself. "We'll take a vacation when all this is over. Just me and him." She smiles at her quixotic thoughts, knowing she could never get Cicero to leave the Night Mother for more than a week at a time, and it would take them at least two weeks to travel to southern Cyrodiil. Ah, well. It made for a nice fantasy at least.

She steps out of her warm bath, and Cicero is back at her side, wrapping towel around her shoulders. "What are you smiling about?" he asks. "Naughty things, I hope."

"I'm thinking of happier times that have yet to happen," she admits, and her good mood vanishes when the reality of her sorry situation comes rushing back. She yearns for that quiet moment that happened only a few minutes ago, when she was lost in the curve of Cicero's smile and the warmth of his eyes. "I am ready for this Dragonborn crap to be over."

"Cicero doubts your responsibilities to the world will end after you've vanquished Alduin," he says. "You seem to be favored by the gods above and below."

"Favored." She drops the damp towel to the floor, and dresses in a satin shift Cicero laid out for her. "It feels more like a curse. I wonder if the Dragonborns of the past ever felt this way."

He unabashedly watches her nude for vanish beneath the cool, creamy fabric. "Of course they did," he says. "The world used them up, just as it will try to use you."

"That's a comforting thought."

"You would not believe me if I told you otherwise. I could tell you everything is going to be okay, that the world and the needy people in it will leave you alone once you've killed Alduin, but you are too smart to believe such drivel."

"You're right, I wouldn't believe it," she says. "But there is little the world can ask of a dead woman," she thinks bitterly. It's true that she sent Alduin fleeing back to Sovngarde, but now she is expected to face him in his territory, and she is not certain what will happen. A blessing from the gods doesn't necessarily mean she'll succeed.

"Cicero has been thinking," he says slowly, still piecing his thoughts into words. "While it is true the Stormcloak jarl will be more likely to help you than the General, you should be cautious when dealing with him."

"I've been thinking the same thing," she says, sitting on the bed and motioning for him to join her. "I wonder if he'll see me as some kind of weapon and try to pull me into his stupid war."

"That is a possibility," he says, sitting down beside her. "Delphine's fear for you was not misplaced. He could attempt to kill you, or worse. I do not know what kind of man he is, but I do know nothing inspires a man's anger like a blessing not bestowed upon himself. Ulfric can use the Thu'um, and I have no doubt that he believes he should be the Dragonborn. Or he at least wishes to be. He will not be happy to see that Akatosh has chosen an elf. He will see you as a threat before he ever sees you as an ally, and if he is a weak man, he will be blinded by jealousy and never see you at all."

"Hopefully he'll be able to see past my ears," she grumbles. "I'm not going to dock them for his sake." Lumen winces at the thought, even though what she said had been in jest.

"Cicero did not realize ear-docking was a thing."

"It is among some humans," she tells him, rather surprised he hadn't heard of it before. But for all his shortcomings, and his tendency to use gendered insults (especially where Astrid was concerned) Cicero paid surprisingly little attention to race. "When I first came to Skyrim, I met a Dunmer at an inn. Her ears- they were flattened and scarred on top, like someone had cut the tip off and then cauterised it to kill all hope of healing."

He winces. "Do not tell Cicero you actually asked the poor woman about her disfigurement."

"I didn't have to. She saw me staring and waved me over to her table. We shared a few drinks and she warned me against visiting Windhelm-"

"Which is exactly where we are going!"

"I've been there before," Lumen shrugs. "I just don't go to the Grey Quarter, especially at night. I'd rather not have a run-in with some hateful human who's drunk on liquor and fear."

Cicero groans, passing a hand over his face. "From here on out, Cicero is blaming every grey hair and every wrinkle on you."

"I'm not the one who nearly got eviscerated by a dragon," she says, her eyes drifting across his bare torso to focus on the scar Alduin left behind. "Besides, there's nothing to worry about. I'll be with you and Arnbjorn. I will be safe."

"But-"

"Stop," she says, pressing a finger to his lips. "If someone even threatens to dock my ears I'll burn them to a crisp, and if the poor sod is still alive after that, you can stab them to death."

"Very well," he concedes with a sulk. "Cicero will attempt to keep his worries to himself since his Listener has no desire to hear them."

"You worry too much." Lumen grins and scoots a bit closer to him. "Perhaps I could give you something more pleasant to think about for a while." She presses a soft kiss to his bare shoulder, while her fingers drag across his torso, and come to a stop at the hem of his trousers. "What do you say?"

"What do you have in mind?" he asks, his sour mood lifting.

"I could tell you," she says, nipping at his neck. "But I'd much rather show you."

A/N: I recommend reading "Season Unending" by Heiwako. If you're down with an Elenwen x Ulfric ship (and thus, burning in Shipping Hell like I am) you'll enjoy it. We're getting to the point in Causa Mortis where it ties in with her fic. She's already written the Season Unending quest from Ulfric's POV. So it'll be fun to write it in Lumen's. Her fic can be found here on fanfiction and over at deviantArt.

Also, the character Juniper is from a fic titled "Night's Shadow" by bakasukebe over on Ao3. It's an AU based around this story, and it focuses on the adventures of Juniper, who is the leader of the Thieves Guild. It's an interesting story and I highly recommend it if you like Thieves Guild/Dark Brotherhood stuff. :D

The Season Unending part of this story officially starts in the next chapter. I promise. I was going to have Lumen meet Ulfric in this one but I got long-winded on the fluffy bit, so I just decided to end it there. I'd rather dedicate an entire chapter to her dealing with Ulfric and Maven, anyway. As always, thank you for reading!