Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Bethesda Studios and I own nothing at all except for the OC and plot. There is no profit made at all, really.

Summary: Because there was a deeper, darker version of Dragonrend… Now Alduin must learn to live again, not as a devourer of worlds, but as a man...

Genre: Adventure/Humour

A/N: Okay, another massive chapter and I'm quite ready to collapse. If you liked this, please do review and let me know my efforts have not been in vain. Sometimes I think I have this story under control and then bam, it runs away. This chapter is a case in point and I've been working on it for more than 24 hours.

Sintar:Well, ever since Brynjolf used that and broke my DB's heart, hells yeah. I've been waiting for payback. Nykle: All the sweet little lies get named in this chapter. Zute: Haha, I'm so glad you approve. The worse thing was having Bryn say that all the time, and then I walk in on him and Vex in the Cistern and he is telling Vex about what an asset she is to the Guild and I'm like "%$&* you, Brynjolf." LOL. I can't marry him though, because I use a Playstation...sigh. FloodFester: In fire and blood. I'm only half-joking. Guest: Thank you very much. I hope you enjoy this one too. Argentorum: That is one of the best compliments you could give me. Seriously. Thanks so much for letting me know. Lissaregan6: Hey! It's always so lovely to hear from you. I'm glad you enjoyed that monster (in more than one way) battle. And you are totally right about that new level of hatred for Bryn. :P Eisenfaust: Thanks! And I know it took awfully long, and I'm glad you hung in there to the end. I hope you like this one too. Kirsui: Thank you and thank you for your lovely review. It's this kind of encouragement that got me thinking about writing original stories. MetaLucario:*L* Exploding ovaries has made its way into my everyday vocabulary. And there's a little more fluffy goodness in this chapter as well. Cereza671: Well, colour me super pleased and flattered. Thank you! And yes, I am going to start writing original stuff once I wrap up Dragonrend. ChaosEmperorNex: Thank you so very very much for the wonderful review. I can't believe you've read this entire thing three times! And please, feel free to emulate away with the technique bits. Cheeredinheart: Well, Freyja is mine at least. Not that I could use her anywhere else though. And I truly am very appreciative of everything you mentioned in your review. Thank you for making me feel appreciated (!). Happysnail: Mmmm...mildly abusive...I'm afraid I have to disagree although I know I am pushing the line a bit in places. As you said, he is a dragon, a naturally wild and dangerous fantastical creature. But your review did give me food for thought and I hope it shows in this chapter. Thank you for staying with the story even though you didn't agree with all of it. I hope you stay all the way until the end. LilithiaRW: Oh yes, she knows. They definitely need to have a Talk. Polar: Thanks! Here's another chapter and I hope you find it as interesting as the other chapters. JullieFord: I'll settle for 'crazy good'. I think it's great! Thanks.

DRAGONREND

L.

"Well, can you?" He tossed the question out casually. Freyja had been wringing both hands together and probably imagining Alduin's neck between them. Pretending not to see her freeze, he drew one knee up to his chest and draped a hand over it, drawing lazy circles on the dark grained leather of his thieves' garb. The day was still bright, the sun's heat only softened by the cool wind that surrounded them. Yet it felt like the weight of the mountain that loomed in the background had settled between them. "Kill him, that is."

When the only reply Freyja gave was silence and perfect stillness, Brynjolf stretched out his other leg and worried the corner of a loose tile with the toe of his boot. "Perhaps I asked the wrong question." He nudged, the tile gave a small grating shriek of protest. "Do you want to?"

Her face hardened like a fist and for a moment he didn't recognise her. Then that other face, that other side of Freyja which perhaps had always been there and which the Dark Brotherhood had moulded and refined, went away and she seemed to deflate before his eyes.

"Oh Bryn," she rasped miserably. Her gaze was fixed on the tiny hurrying figures on the marketplace below. The wind blew out the women's' skirts like the petals of blooming flowers, made the extra flags bearing the proud horse of Whiterun curve like waves upon its currents. There were victory celebrations tonight, to mark Whiterun's victory, the Dragonborn's return and mostly the bravery of the fallen. "I'll do what I must. If it comes down to the world or him, I'll choose the world." She blinked and the tears fell. She dashed them away.

"Even though you love him." Freyja winced and Brynjolf felt more than a degree of remorse as well as the slight, strange pang of some emotion he preferred to leave unexplored. "Are you sure you can, lass?

"Are you quite finished picking at my wounds?" Her voice was so low that he had to read her lips to piece together what she was saying.

"Since when have I ever let you go on a job without checking it for weaknesses?" The tile dislodged but before it could slide down he slammed it back into place. Brynjolf ignored the shallow crack that split it down the centre.

"I am not a child, Brynjolf," she snapped. "Nor a novice thief. I have grown."

"I can see that." She bristled and Brynjolf remembered a very dusty old tome full of ancient tales that Gallus had read. Somewhere in there was a story about Tiber Septim and a red dragon that had served him loyally. "The bridle has yet to be made that could ever tame a dragon," Gallus had muttered before tossing it at him. "You've made new friends."

"Are we going to talk about this now?" She looked just as Karliah had when the topic of those twenty-five years had finally been breached—so tired that she seemed almost old. The Dunmer Nightingale who would always love Gallus had been able to tell him some things. The rest she said, were better kept for the shadows. There would always be gaps between them. "Very well, you saw that ghost. That was Lucien Lachance, once a Speaker from Cheydinhal. That was two hundred years or so ago."

"That's quite an ally to have in battle. I saw your horse, by the way. Or rather, it saw me." Freyja looked slightly alarmed and in spite of himself, Brynjolf grinned. "For a great big beast, it moves very quietly."

"He. And yes, Shadowmere moves very quietly. When was this? It couldn't have been that bad though. You did show up at Jorrvaskr in one piece."

"So much for sympathy from you. I'm beginning to see where he gets his attitude from." Freyja looked unimpressed but he sensed that she had softened slightly. "It was the day after you had won the city. In a situation like this, the city guards scrutinise people coming in more closely than Delvin would a naked Vex."

"Now that is an image I could have done without."

"Hey, it's not like you didn't read that note she left on the table for him." Brynjolf raised his eyebrows at her knowingly. In spite of herself, she smiled. "Anyway, I decide that it would be easier to sneak into the city some other way. I get off my horse, scale some of the smaller rocks and find a nice spot of wall that's low enough for me to clamber over with the help of a rope, grappling hook and some luck. I'm about to start when I get that feeling that I've already been caught. I look around for sentries and that's when I see him. Two blood red eyes in a sea of black at the foot of the spot where I had dismounted. It's only when he moves off that I realise it's a horse." In spite of the fact that it was the most light-hearted version of that event which he could summon up, Brynjolf shuddered slightly. He still wondered whether the horse had been toying with him or whether it had been sheer luck which had kept him safe.

"He might have recognised you for what you are: Nocturnal's agent." She looked like she was about to say something else, then changed her mind. "Once he sees you're with me though, he won't hurt you."

"Lass, no offence but that horse is the size of a bear. Seventeen hands if I'm not mistaken—"

"Nineteen hands, actually. And if he tolerates Alduin, he'll tolerate you. After all, I am the Listener."

She looked at him and he looked right back at her. Freyja knew that personally, he disliked killing unless it came down to revenge or survival. He fed the others the line about it being bad for business, which it was, but she knew the truth. "I had my suspicions," he said quietly, knowing he couldn't flinch because if he did, he would lose some part of her forever. "The Guild keeps its ear to the ground and when I heard about the Dark Brotherhood rising once again...it reminded me of the way you changed things for us."

"I certainly have, for more of us than I originally considered." She blinked, the moment was over; he had passed the test. "Cyrodiil has no Emperor, Skyrim has no High King and the Thalmor rule the Aldmeri Dominion." She pressed the heel of a hand against her temple, as though she would rub out the heaviness that settled over her. "Balgruuf was right. After Alduin, if I survive, I will come back to this."

He wanted to tell her that war meant little to thieves or assassins. In fact, those could prove to be very prosperous times indeed. The powerful and wealthy could reach into deep pockets to have an opponent plucked from the chessboard of political intrigue; the right information could be more precious than gold and heaps of flawless gems. But he said none of this, for it would do little to comfort her. "I'll come with you."

Her jaw dropped. "What?"

Brynjolf inclined his head towards the Throat of the World. "That means I'll go up that damned mountain with you, come down that mountain with you again and back into this bubbling cauldron of Jarls, would-be Kings, Thalmor and whatever else you have to deal with."

"Bryn—"

"I know what I am, lass. I'm a thief, a godsdamned good one but just a thief. But I won't let you go it alone again. You need a friend, someone who's in your corner, just for you."

Her eyes welled up again and he dropped his gaze momentarily as she wiped them. "You have a terrible habit of making me cry," she quipped, trying to smooth out the raw edges of her voice. "You're not responsible, you know that don't you? I had a choice, and I made it."

"I'm making one now. And don't think Nocturnal has anything to do with this either," he warned. "This is entirely my decision."

"I have no idea how to sort out any of what I've done here, Bryn."

"Well, that's definitely a place to start working forward from."

"If we weren't so high up here, I would deck you for that."

"Oh lass, excuses excuses."

"Thank you."

She slipped it in so quickly that it took him a moment to process that. He had no idea what good he would be to her, up on the mountain or here in its shadow. Still, he would try. "You're welcome. So, now that we've discussed the back-up plan, what is it that you actually have in mind for Alduin?"

She appreciated his attempt at deliberate flippancy but the ghost of a grin was the best she could conjure for him. "I think he means to offer me a new world. I want to offer him this one."

"Do you think he'll take it?"

She drew her legs up, rested her chin on her knees. It was one thing to know and another entirely to conceive of the weight that lay on those shoulders. "Ask me something I can answer."

"Can I be the one to tell him that I'm joining your travelling party?

"No."

"Perhaps I could be a passive bystander when you break the news—"

"No."

"I could listen just outside the door—"

She did try to deck him after all. But at least she laughed when she did it.


In the end, I was not able to meet with Balgruuf. "He's in a meeting with the two Legates," Irileth said. "Unfortunately, he cannot be disturbed."

"It's been that long a meeting?"

"Half the morning," she said with a slight grimace. "Is your business with the Jarl urgent?"

I shook my head. "He only needs to know that the Companions understand his concerns and the situation has been resolved."

"I will give the message to him."

"Thank you." I turned to go but she stepped closer.

"The Legates want Balgruuf to place you in the dungeons or confine you to your home. While more Legion troops are on their way, there is a smaller contingent that will arrive before dawn tomorrow morning. It's from Fort Neugrad."

"I thought Fort Neugrad was held by bandits?"

"That was Tullius' excuse for sending Legion troops into Whiterun. He claimed the bandits were endangering the mountain pass, which in all truth they were, and that since Helgen is now little more than ruins, Fort Neugrad would serve as a substitute."

Irileth had worked out that I meant to take the mountain pass and cut straight through to Ivarstead. With hard riding, it would take three days as opposed to the six if I had gone around the Monahven. This was a tip-off. "You have my thanks." I held out my arm and she clasped it firmly.

"Safe travels, Dragonborn."

Outside, I stopped at the top of the steps that led to and away from Dragonsreach. It was good to see the streets looking livelier. Huge long tables had been set up at the marketplace centre and a mix of guards and citizens were dragging a cartful of barrels were currently being ordered about by Hulda. One barrel slipped and several salmon, glistening silver in the sun, fell out. The children screeched in delight, Hulda simply screeched and to my mortification, Meeko darted in and made off with a fat fish before anyone could stop him. The Bannered Mare was to stay open all night until the last person collapsed from too much food and drink. The market stalls had been commandeered as temporary food stations. I could smell roasting venison and beef; Anoriath and some hired hunters were coming up the path bearing several clutches of trussed up pheasants, rabbits, three dead deer and the fattest goat I had ever seen.

"What do you need, Dragonborn?"

I turned and nodded at the guard who had approached me. "Nothing. I'm just glad to see Whiterun like this again."

"Aye, the celebration will do much to lift our spirits. And it honours our dead who have gone to Sovngarde or whatever realm it is that their race calls paradise."

"I'll drink to that."

Although the helmet obscured much of his face, I saw the corners of his eyes lift. "As will I."

He gave a slight bow and moved on. I wondered if he had lost any kin in the battle and how many friends of his had died so that the living could have this day. I'll choose the world. That's what I had told Brynjolf. And this, I supposed, was the best part of that world. A brave people who weathered the worst of what life gave and made the most of its best. I wondered if I would still feel that way when Alduin was gone. 'He might take the offer yet,' I consoled myself as I descended the steps. 'You must make it soon though.' If the weather was good, meaning that there were no snowstorms although the occasional ice wraith, wolf, spider and snow troll were usually a given, it would take five or six days to trek up the long winding path that led to the weather-beaten walls of High Hrothgar. 'A week. You have one week to change his mind.'

Before that though, there was the matter of his lying that we would have to work through. I felt my face redden just at the thought of it and immediately tugged my hood lower down. Bloody Void, how was I supposed to look him in the eye from now on, now that I knew what we'd done, what I had done. 'I should have burnt that stupid book,' I thought sourly as I slinked my way through the relatively empty Clouds District.

At least the talk with Brynjolf had gone better than expected. I had been so afraid that he would have judged me for the violence he generally avoided in his own life, and for the chaos of war waiting in the wings. Sithis would be pleased; perhaps that was why Gaius Marius' death, agonising as it had been, had not sufficed. An Empire riven by war might mean more souls for the Void because of the Dark Brotherhood's role. But there was nothing I could do until the matter between Alduin and I was resolved. The fact that Brynjolf would be coming with me was immeasurably comforting. Unfortunately, as most things in my life, it cut both ways and I realised that I would be spending a good number of days surrounded by males who hated each other. "What is it with me and the men in my life?" I muttered as I arrived outside my house. I was about to reach into my pouch for the keys when the door was yanked open and I came face to face with Alduin. A very furious Alduin with deliciously dishevelled hair and whose eyes were still heavy lidded with sleep. He must have woken up minutes before. So much for him sleeping into the evening. I should have poured the whole damned bottle into the mead. After all, this was the man who could consume two whole kegs of the stuff and not fall over dead. "You're awake," I pronounced brightly.

I swore there was smoke rising from his nostrils. "Get. In. Now."

Brynjolf had the right of it. I did love him. But it wasn't something I could say so easily to myself. So instead, I reminded myself that I cared very much for this man and that I wasn't going to get into a screaming match about manners and honesty. That didn't mean I was going to roll over for him. At least not like that. What I meant was in a manner of speaking. Not literally. Oh gods. My mind took a quick detour southwards and I promptly turned red. "Since you're asking so nicely," I said pointedly as I stepped inside but the furious blush had taken the wind out of my sails.

Lydia watched the both of us warily. For the first time since I'd known her, she looked unsure of herself. "Lydia, Vilkas said the Companions will leave tomorrow at noon. You'll meet them at Jorrvaskr. You might want to take the rest of the afternoon to see to any supplies or remaining matters that you need to settle before then."

Neither of us missed the way Alduin's jaw tightened at the mention of Vilkas. She didn't want to leave me. But she trusted me enough not to question my decision. "Thank you my Thane." As I watched the door close, I had little doubt that Lydia was going to get a guard to stand watch over Breezehome and summon her the moment there was any hint of a real fracas.

"You put something into my drink." The accusation came borne on the wings of the kind of calm that heralded a storm. "How dare you."

"You haven't been entirely honest with me either," I retorted. "Perhaps now would be a good time to revisit the topic of our wedding."

We stood on opposite ends of the hearth. The fire continued to burn merrily, oblivious to the tension in the room.


To his fury and chagrin, Freyja did not look the slightest bit remorseful for what she had done. In fact, she was practically radiating defiance. He had killed both dragons and men for less, for far far less and no one who had ever served or known him would have even conceived of drugging him.

Upon waking, it had taken him less than a minute to work out what his deceitful wife had done. A single puny bottle of mead was not enough to render him unconscious. Then there was the strange unpleasant aftertaste on his tongue that tasted nothing like mead, and the fact that his head felt as though someone had shoved several heavy rocks into it while he had been sleeping. For a moment, Alduin had been sure he was about to vomit. By sheer force of will, he kept the nausea at bay until he found a Stamina potion and downed that. Lydia had protested loudly but he had been enraged enough not to bother about his missing armour or even to take his sword. He had been about to seek out his errant wife when she had appeared on the doorstep of her abode. It had taken every ounce of willpower not to grab her; only the memory of Freyja flinching and the realisation that he had been hurting her held him back.

"I trusted you," he seethed. "You used it against me."

"Well, I guess that makes the two of us immensely suited for each other because I trusted you too. You lied to me about Brynjolf, twice might I add, and ...and about other things that happened!"

She turned an alarming shade of red, he could see that much even though she still kept the damned hood on. Her arms were folded defensively over her front and he could see her fingers digging into the leather that covered her forearms. Alduin had a good idea of what Brynjolf might have told Freyja and now he was beginning to realise just how much of that night was coming back to her. "I did not lie to you about those other things."

"You left them out! That's a lie by omission."

"And what good has the truth done you now?"

Freyja exploded. "You just don't understand. I don't think you want to understand! Fine. I tricked you, and you lied to me. We're even and we should just leave it at that."

"Where are you going?" he demanded hotly as she stalked off.

"To pack!"

He hadn't seen her this angry with him since Valthume. For long moments, he simply stood there, cursing quietly in Dragon Tongue while listening to the sounds of Freyja moving about in the room above. Closing his eyes, Alduin focused on containing his temper. Greater than his anger was his fear of losing her and he used that to rein himself in. When he felt sufficiently ready, he went upstairs.

She had both their knapsacks on the bed which was strewn with several articles of clothing. He stopped in the doorway and watched; she simply ignored him and kept rolling the shirt in her hands until it was a neat bundle. She pushed that into the bag before picking up a second item and proceeded to roll that up as well. "Are you here to help?" she said, her tone carefully neutral although he sensed she was being sarcastic.

"I did not tell you everything about that night because I knew you would feel ashamed."

Her busy hands stilled, bright blue eyes darted to his as she straightened up.

"You meant well. But it wasn't your decision to make," she said quietly.

"No. I see now that it was not."

She waited and he knew that he had to see this through. "I was also..." Alduin hesitated, struggling with pride that choked the words in his throat. "I did not want your attention drawn away by him."

"You were jealous of Brynjolf."

"Yes," he admitted stiffly, fixing his gaze on the flower-like emblem that adorned one of her buckles.

"You shouldn't be. He doesn't love me and I don't love him. Not like that."

"I do not like him near you, nonetheless."

She sighed deeply. Then she dropped the shirt and came towards him. Her hand reached out for his but he caught her instead, slipping an arm around her waist while his other hand pulled the hood away so that he could cup the back of her head as he pressed her length against him. He did not know how much time passed as they held each other, only that it was not enough. "You have to trust me," she said, her voice muffled against his neck. He felt the warmth of her breath, the light touch of her lips against his skin and shuddered slightly from the frisson of heat that tightened his belly.

"I do," he murmured.

Freyja pulled back and looked hard at him. "Then you must show it."

"Very well, I will not kill Brynjolf. Unless—"

"There's no 'unless'. I trust Brynjolf; he's a man of his word. Just like you," she added sweetly.

"That is shameless flattery right there."

"As long as it works. Promise me you'll at least be civil to Brynjolf."

Alduin rolled his eyes. "I already said I would not kill him."

"That's not quite the same."

"With regard to this matter, it is." He brushed a wayward curl from her cheek. "I am not used to tolerating circumstances that are not to my liking. It will take time. Considerable time," he added.

She thought about it for a moment, and then accepted it. "Alright then. I am sorry, for drugging your mead. I'll never do that again."

"Why did you do it?"

"Because I had to see Vilkas to settle some matters, and also because I wanted to know if he was alright. As for Brynjolf, he's my closest friend and I haven't seen him in months. And you made it amply clear that I was to do neither of these. I don't know about you but I wasn't up for another fight after Hircine."

"I do not want to fight with you."

"Then don't try to control me." He tried to move back but Freyja held him fast. "Tell me if you think I'm making a bad decision or unwise choice. Always give me your honest opinion. But don't tell me what I can or cannot do simply because you will it so. And I will do the same for you."

He grasped her by the shoulders, perplexed and stunned that she had the temerity to ask that of him, to negotiate with him.

"I will do the same for you," she repeated, covering his hand with hers, using her fingers to fill the gaps between his.

"You are the only person who has ever dared to speak to me like this."

"I figured being your wife comes with some entitlements." She tried to smile but couldn't quite cover her anxiety. Her gaze searched his.

"You ask a lot, Freyja."

"I know. But you will try, at least?"

"I will think on it."

It galled his pride, but the quiet happiness on her face was what made that all too mortal heart in his chest beat so. It soothed him, as did she as she held him to her once more. He buried his face in her hair, kissed her ear, her neck. She shivered and he became keenly aware of the bed next to them. Freyja had mentioned that after a wedding, there would be a bedding ceremony. Now was as good a time as any, he decided.

"Oh yes, there is one other thing I have to tell you—"

A hard kiss silenced her. He swallowed her soft moan, revelled in the way she curled her body closer against him. His hands went to the ties and straps of her armour.

She tore her mouth from his. "Brynjolf is coming along." The words came out in a rush and she was panting slightly. Still, he heard them with an awful ringing clarity.

"What?"

"I can explain."

He took his hands from her, listened to what she had to say. Brynjolf was concerned for her welfare. It was completely understandable. He would be of great help if they encountered any enemies or interfering Daedra. Once she was done, Alduin moved towards the doorway.

"Where are you going?" Freyja asked uncertainly.

"Downstairs so that you may pack."

"You're not going to leave?"

He sucked in a sharp breath and reminded himself that even if it killed him, he would not lose his temper with her. "No."

After that, she let him be and he went below, gathered all the mead he could find, settled himself before the fire and dreamt of new ways to kill redheaded men. It was hard to believe but he had finally found someone more detestable than Shadowmere.


He had not taken part in the festivities, at least not the feasting although he had nicked a bowl of horker stew and a roasted rack of venison that had the most marvellous seasoning. With a sigh of satisfaction, Brynjolf sipped from a bottle of Honningbrew Mead. Sneaking into the barracks where the Imperial soldiers were staying had been child's play. Those on shift the night before had been fast asleep and no one had seen him empty sachets of an innocuous looking white powder into the kegs of mead and water barrels.

Which was why less than a third of the Imperial soldiers were manning the walls and carrying out patrols. The other two thirds were all too busy squatting over their chamber pots and perching themselves in the latrines of the public houses.

Above him, Masser and Secunda rode high in the sky, the paler sister in the shadow of the red one. They gleamed more brightly now, ever since he had pledged himself to Nocturnal. If he concentrated hard enough, he could feel a gentle pull from them, could feel them as they ebbed and flowed over the course of the night.

There were only a few citizens left at the feast. Most had stumbled back home, those with children had left even earlier, and somewhere in between, Freyja had disappeared back into Breezehome without him noticing. He blamed it partly on that attractive redhead who had been fending off an overly amorous bard by finally emptying a tankard over his head. People had cheered and some had clapped. The offended bard eventually recovered and tried his luck with a lithesome pale blond lass who eventually revealed that she had a very mean right hook.

"Come on Brenuin, let's get you over to this bench."

Below him, a priest was leading the resident beggar to one of the benches surrounding the Gildergreen. The Redguard groaned, muttered something unintelligible and proceeded to snore. Even from up here, in the very highest branches of the tree where the flowers and leaves that had survived the fire still grew in lush abundance, Brynjolf could smell the faint stench of unwashed clothing and mead.

By the time another hour was up, the celebrations were completely over. There were several people slumped over the tables, fast asleep. Waiting until the two patrolling soldiers crossed each other beneath the tree and disappeared down their respective paths, he began to climb down deftly, dropping gracefully from branch to branch, avoiding those that had been damaged by the fire. He paused when a guard carrying a torch high up on the steps of Dragonsreach stopped. For a moment, the man just stood there and Brynjolf wondered if he had actually seen him. Then someone out of sight barked an order to stop lollygagging and the guard moved on. 'Luck'. Brynjolf grinned as he landed on the ground and darted up the steps of Jorrvaskr before retreating into the darkness that lined the bottom of the Skyforge.

From behind the back of the building, a man appeared. He was tall and broad and in the moonlight, his eyes had a telltale silver gleam. Brynjolf knew the stranger meant no harm but still, it was uncanny how the wolf managed to pick him out even with the shadows around him. Then, the soft grind of metal greeted his ears. Instinctively, Brynjolf's hand went to the Daedric daggers at his side and he spun to the right, the direction from which the sound had come.

"Bryn, it's us," Freyja hissed before she appeared in a soft shimmer of crimson blue. Behind her, Alduin materialised as well, wearing the same heavy armour that the thief had recognised earlier as belonging to the Blades. The irony was not lost on him, and it had to be entirely Freyja's doing.

"Not bad lass. If it hadn't been for him, you would have gotten the drop on me for once." And if looks could have killed, he knew he would have died several times over. But Freyja was standing between him and the fallen god, and Brynjolf had always had a good estimate of just how far he could push his luck.

"Bryn..."

"Just saying," he shrugged, holding his hands out.

"Are you ready?" Farkas interrupted.

"Yes, we most definitely are," she replied, sounding somewhat relieved.

To Brynjolf's surprise, the man placed his hand against a wall of stone that shuddered at his touch before shifting back inwards. 'It's a door,' Brynjolf realised. The craggy edges and speckled dark grey of the rock had helped to conceal it perfectly.

Dim lights shone inside and Brynjolf felt the hairs on his neck rise as he entered. He could feel a faint presence of something, a stirring in response to the influence of Nocturnal that he carried. It set him on edge and he half-expected Hircine to leap out of nowhere. Alduin didn't so much as spare him a glance; instead the man kept very close to Freyja.

"It's down that way." Farkas pointed to the right. "The tunnel leads out to a spot near the Battle-Born farm. Or rather, whatever remains of it now."

"Thank you Farkas." Freyja hesitated before turning to both him and Alduin. "You two go along first. I'll be right behind."

At first neither of them moved. Then, amazingly, Alduin did. Before plunging into the murky dark, he turned back to look at Freyja and then proceeded to silently threaten Farkas with a very impressive glare. Deciding that he had better leave as well, Brynjolf went down the tunnel. It smelled dank and vaguely like dog, which was entirely unsurprising, given who used it. It was also practically pitch black. A normal person might have broken a leg, if not his neck, but he spotted the edge of the ledge and dropped easily down from it. He stepped out into the night and stopped short. That huge black beast of a horse was already there. It stomped one leg on the ground and lowered its head menacingly. The ears were pinned back flat.

"He does know we're on Freyja's side, doesn't he?"

Alduin ignored him although he made sure to keep his sword hand resting on the hilt of his blade. Again, a feeling of disgruntlement arose and he suppressed it. Once upon a time it had been Gallus' blade. It was none of his business who Freyja gave or loaned it to. Then Shadowmere danced closer and Brynjolf found himself reaching for his daggers.

"Can't you all just get along without me for awhile?" She landed with a soft thud and brushing past both men, went straight for the horse that whickered and nuzzled her as she stroked its nose and neck. Brynjolf had to make a conscious effort to keep his mouth closed. Freyja was actually very fond of that unnatural steed with eyes the stuff that nightmares were made of. He had never thought to question her taste in companions, not when she had belonged only to Guild. Clearly things had changed, what with the Dark Brotherhood, her choice of mount and last but not least, her husband.

"There is somebody out there," Alduin suddenly said. "By the ruins of the farm."

"That would be a fellow thief with my ride actually." Leaving them behind, Brynjolf jogged quickly down the path. It had been a stroke of good fortune to have met a fellow purveyor of others' belongings just the day before and two strokes to have tracked the man down once Freyja had explained her escape plan. How the other had recognised him as a Nightingale was a complete mystery though, but it had undoubtedly helped with getting the man to agree to the task.

"Now there's a fine piece of horseflesh," he said as he took the reins from the thief. The chestnut stallion was large, though not as huge as Shadowmere, and strong.

"He's quite friendly too. So is she," the thief slapped the flank of the bay mare he rode. "But he's faster."

"You have my thanks."

"Remember me to our Dark Lady. Hail Nightingale!"

As the thief galloped away, Brynjolf busied himself with tying his packs to the horse's saddle. When he was done, he swung himself up. As Freyja came riding up with Alduin behind her in the saddle, his mount snorted nervously and backed several paces away but otherwise remained calm.

"Is that one of the Legates' horses?"

"It is indeed."

Freyja laughed. "I would pay money to see Skulnar's reaction. It's just too bad we have to leave now."

"By all means, lead the way."


High on the battlements, Lydia and a Whiterun guard watched as the three riders disappeared into the night. "What do you think, Garrald? Do those look like bandits to you?

The younger man nodded firmly. "Certainly. It just so happens that a nest of bandits is regrouping somewhere near the city. It has to be them."

"Then that is what we'll report to Legates Skulnar and Cipius two hours from now. Bandits stole their horses."

"What will we say when they demand to know where the Dragonborn has gone?"

Lydia shrugged. "How would we know? We've been on guard duty the whole night and all we saw were those bandits. Where were they heading again?"

The Dragonborn had been riding south. "Oh, I think they were going somewhere North," Garrald said.

"North it is then."