[A/N] Remember how I said I couldn't wait to write this chapter? I ended up having to force myself to write it... because I got a beauteous new laptop for Christmas that could run Skyrim. Guess what I've been playing for the past three days? ;)

It amazes me that the chapter even got done. But it did, so here it is - and let slip the Daedra!

[DISCLAIMER] I do not own The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim or anything related to it; that's Bethesda's deal, not mine (sadly). I also do not own "Snowship" by Benjamin Francis Leftwich. However, Kajsa Red-Blade and Ronan Sorleigh are my original characters and they belong to me.

CHAPTER XXXIV – In the Dark

He put his hand in my hand and he told me, "Son,
When they all come looking for you, where you gonna run?
Your heart's wired up to the eyes in your head, and they're flashing bright."

Be careful what you wish for when you're young...
Be careful what you wish for when you're young...

I signed a deal with the devil, and he took my soul
To a room with a table in the dark and cold.
I signed my name just the same as I'd done on the line before...

"Snowship," Benjamin Francis Leftwich

Stopping at the bottom of some stone steps leading to a small corridor with a low, arched ceiling, Karliah turned around to face her two companions, violet eyes gravely concerned. "Are both of you ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be, lass," Brynjolf replied. "To be honest, I'm not exactly relishing the prospect."

The edges of her mouth twitching in a tense smile, the Dunmer turned to a silent Ulfric. "And you, Jarl Ulfric?"

The jarl looked away from his surroundings – a moss-covered hall lined with faded banners on the walls and burning braziers – and towards her, not anticipating being addressed. "What can I expect?"

"I'd advise you to remain on your guard, as Nocturnal can be rather unpredictable at times," Karliah instructed. "When She addresses you, be respectful, but not diffident. The Daedric Princes are generally not appreciative of those who are downright impudent, but they dislike weak-willed individuals even more."

"'When'?" Ulfric questioned sharply. "What do you mean?"

"Brynjolf and I are both Nightingales, and we have already proven ourselves to our Lady," the Dunmer explained, biting her lip in hesitation. "If you are to associate with us and be trusted with the secrets of the Nightingales, Nocturnal will be... testing you to judge your worth."

"Why didn't you mention this earlier?" the jarl demanded. "Before we stepped foot inside these caves, or before we left Riften, or before I even agreed to come along?"

"Lass, you really do have a bad habit of not revealing crucial information until the last minute," the Second remarked dryly.

Karliah sighed. "I apologize, but now isn't the time to argue. We need to summon Nocturnal and find some answers."

Biting back a scathing condemnation, Ulfric forced himself to nod and settle for sarcasm. "Then what's your plan?"

The Dunmer flinched a bit at his tone, but remained firm. "There's a gate up ahead. Once I open it, stand on the western circle. When everyone's in place, I'll summon Nocturnal."

"Sounds good, lass," Brynjolf assured, albeit a bit shakily. "Lead on."

Pulling her hood and mask up to conceal her face, Karliah turned around and walked onwards, up the stairs and into the narrow hallway, followed by the two Nords. Pulling a chain hanging from the ceiling, she paused and waited for a row of iron spikes to vanish into some holes in the floor before continuing on. After following the Dunmer's lead by adjusting his own hood and mask, the Second then proceeded after her.

The jarl stepped out of the passage, glancing around at the huge chamber that the three of them had entered into. There was a circular stone dais in the center, the seal on the floor bearing the insignia of a stylized bird whose wings cupped a full moon. Branching off of the dais were three arcing walkways leading to miniature versions of the parent structure. Walking out to what appeared to be the westernmost circle – also the only vacated one – Ulfric took his place, crossed his arms over his chest, and waited.

The figure in Nightingale armor on the circle next to him (judging by the slight frame, it was Karliah) knelt down on one knee, lifting both of her hands in supplication and raising her voice. "I call upon You, Lady Nocturnal: Queen of Murk and Empress of Shadow. Hear my voice and answer my summons!"

Her words echoed off the moss-coated walls for a moment, and then the chamber fell completely silent. A split-second later, the air around the three of them grew dryer and thinner as a round, roiling void of deepest purple, ringed with shadowy smoke, crackled into sudden existence, hovering over the largest circle.

Brynjolf and Karliah both bowed their heads quickly, but the jarl remained still, eying it with uncertainty. This is supposed to be a Daedric Prince?

A harsh and brassy, yet distinctly feminine voice emanated from the void, filling the chamber with its displeasure. "Why do you summon me, Karliah? Have you come to throw yourself on my mercy, to beg for forgiveness?"

"Lady Nocturnal," the Dunmer managed, bewildered, "I – I did not know that I had – had disappointed You somehow."

"I should have learned by now not to trust you with possessions of mine." Nocturnal laughed coldly. "First, my Key, and now, my Champion – but unlike with the former, you had a chance to prevent the loss of the latter. A chance that you should have seized."

"My Lady!" Karliah protested. "Kajsa outright refused our offers of aid and –"

"That does not matter!" The Daedric Prince's enraged voice rang throughout the chamber. "I am not like my treacherous brothers, Mehrunes Dagon and Boethiah, who enjoy toying with their champion's lives; I expect my Trinity to be preserved! You should have been at her back, Karliah, instead of what it is you do now: cowering on your knees and offering me pitiful excuses!" The last word was nearly shrieked. "What would Dralsi Indoril have said if she were to look upon her daughter now? Disgraceful!"

The Dunmer seemed to crumple under Nocturnal's barrage, sinking all the way to ground, her shoulders sagging. For a moment, Ulfric felt pity for her, but also intense gratitude that the Daedric Prince had not turned to him yet.

"Lady Nocturnal," Brynjolf began cautiously, his brogue wavering, "we come not to apologize, but to redeem ourselves in Your eyes. We intend to rescue Ka – Your Champion, but in order to do that, we need Your assistance."

There was silence for a moment, and the absence of sound seemed even more frightening than Nocturnal's screeching. Then: "Look at me, Karliah."

The Nightingale in question slowly raised her head. "Yes, my Lady?"

"I will give you this last chance to redeem yourself. If you succeed, I will pretend as though this whole debacle never happened. But if you fail –" Her words hung threateningly in the air.

"I will not disappoint You again, my Lady," Karliah swore.

"We shall see," Nocturnal purred smugly. "Now, Brynjolf: please have the third member of your little party introduce himself."

At the Second's nod, Ulfric straightened up to address the void. "I am Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm, son of the Bear of Eastmarch, and future High King of Skyrim."

"Ah, so this is the noble Bear of Markarth, the Killer of Kings," the Daedric Prince mused aloud, a mocking tone to her voice. "Tell me, Jarl Ulfric: why are you here with my Nightingales?"

"I am here because – because I wish to save Kajsa as well."

"Why is my Champion so important to you?" Nocturnal questioned. "Hmm?"

The jarl swallowed; it seemed as though the void was a single, lidless eye, scrutinizing him intensely. "She is the Dragonborn. She is a soldier in my army. She is my friend and – and the one that I love."

Derisive laughter echoed throughout the chamber. "Oh, how precious. It seems that love is to be the downfall of my Trinity." The Daedric Prince's voice turned scornful. "Gallus loved Karliah, as did the traitor Mercer Frey. Brynjolf loved Kajsa. Mercer could not have Karliah, so he killed Gallus and framed the woman he loved. Brynjolf could not have Kajsa, so he believed Mercer's lies.

"Love is foolish, the worst curse of all... but one that you mortals embrace willingly. Why is that, Jarl Ulfric?" Nocturnal demanded. "Perhaps you can... shed some light on this matter."

Ulfric was quiet for a moment, trying to gather his words. Discussing philosophy with a Daedric Prince... how surreal can this day become? He sighed, but looked straight at the void again to give his answer.

"Love gives hope. Kajsa gives me hope – the hope that I will achieve what I have fought for all of these years, the hope that there is heroism and nobility in all of us, even those who do not believe themselves heroes, and..." He choked on his words, but soldiered on. "And the hope that I have found someone to share the rest of my life with."

Silence filled the chamber. The jarl could feel Brynjolf's and Karliah's sympathetic eyes on him, but he did not meet them, instead looking down towards his feet. The Nightingale crest stood out from the stone beneath him, making him feel even emptier than before. Standing in the place that rightfully belonged to Kajsa made him feel even emptier, like an interloper. I should never have agreed to come.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Nocturnal spoke. "I have no stomach for human sentiments, love included, but there is one principle that I can abide: loyalty. Are you, Jarl Ulfric, truly loyal to my Champion, as you have insinuated?"

"Yes," he answered immediately. "Always."

"How far would you be willing to go to save her? Until Sovngarde, as you Nords always say?"

"Even farther."

"And would your loyalty to her ever waver? Even if she had done something entirely inexcusable in your eyes, would you stand by her side?"

"I – I will always be steadfast."

The Daedric Prince laughed lightly. "Such unswerving devotion to a woman you know almost nothing about. Had you been a thief rather than a jarl, you would have made a wonderful Nightingale."

What does she mean by that, that I "know almost nothing" about Kajsa? Ulfric nearly frowned, but kept his face neutral and his demeanor polite. "Thank you for your compliment, Lady Nocturnal."

"There is no need to thank me for stating what is fact." Her amused tone turned sharp. "Do not forget that time is running. Whatever you have summoned me for, it needs to be accomplished now."

"We – or, I suppose the jarl does – have some questions for you, my Lady," Brynjolf said quickly. "About Kajsa's abduction."

Nocturnal seemed to pause in consideration. Then: "And you are prepared to pay the price for the information? Whatever I may ask of you?"

The Second and Karliah both nodded, followed with some hesitation by the jarl.

"Very well. Jarl Ulfric, you may ask three questions of me: no more, no less. I will give you the plainest answers I can – the Daedric Prince of darkness must preserve some secrets." There was the faintest hint of some dark humor in her last remark.

Now, Ulfric frowned, carefully planning what he would say. If I have only three questions, I must make every one of them count. "My first question is this: where in Skyrim do the recently reformed Blades make their headquarters?"

"Deep within the Karthspire, in Sky Haven Temple."

The jarl's frown deepened. Karthspire... the name is reminiscent of the Reach. "Second question: where in are the Thalmor holding Kajsa?"

"At the Thalmor Embassy in Haafingar."

Ulfric's spirits dropped a little further. Out of the three locations suggested, that is most definitely the worst of them all. We'll definitely need the Blades for that. "My third and final question... why exactly have the Thalmor captured Kajsa?"

There was another pregnant pause. "I would advise that you look to Hjerim for your answer to that question, Jarl Ulfric." An air of smug secrecy was creeping into the Daedric Prince's words. "My Champion hides many stolen treasures in her houses: some to sell, some to keep – and a handful to conceal from others' prying eyes."

The jarl stiffened in alarm. Kajsa knew why the Thalmor were after her?

"Thank you, my Lady," Karliah thanked, gratitude flooding her voice.

"Do not thank me yet, Karliah," Nocturnal warned. "You know not yet what I will ask of you in return for this information."

"Well, what do you ask of us, then?" Brynjolf asked a trifle impatiently.

Suddenly, the void crackled again as it swirled into a smoky mass in the very center. As the deep shadows wove into it, they refined the formless shape into something resembling a human figure.

"Who – who is that?" the Dunmer gasped.

Ulfric peered at the shadow's face. It appeared to be a young Breton man, probably in his middle twenties, with unkempt dusty-brown hair and stubble, keen olive eyes, a slightly crooked nose, and thin, smirking lips. Even though it was a lifeless image of whoever it was supposed to represent, the shadow seemed to project a sort of effortless charisma and cunning.

"His name is Ronan Sorleigh." As the Daedric Prince spoke, the image vanished as quickly as it had come. "Your task is this, my Nightingales: find him and bring him into the Thieves Guild. Train him. When the time is right, make him a Nightingale."

"Lining up a replacement for me already, I see," Karliah murmured fearfully.

Nocturnal laughed suddenly, a sound that sent chills down Ulfric's spine. "Oh, you need not worry, Karliah. Ronan may not have to replace you for a while longer, provided you make sure that no harm comes to my Champion during your little rescue mission. Given the short lives of my Nightingales, I only feel it prudent to have a backup."

"What's so special about the lad?" the Second questioned.

"What is there to say? He may be young, but with the Guild's guidance, he has the capability to become a truly exceptional thief and Nightingale." She laughed again, soft and sinister. "Like father, like son."

"'Father'?" the Dunmer gasped. "You can't mean –"

"What are you talking about, lass?" the Nord thief ventured, confused.

"Don't you see the resemblance, Brynjolf?" the Daedric Prince purred. "His father was your beloved late Guildmaster, Mercer Frey."

[A/N] *Hums suspenseful music* Sound off: review, my loyal readers!