Special thanks to 16DarkMidnight80 for looking over this.

-B-

Just 'cause you say it doesn't make it so.

~Anonymous

-B-

"What in Oblivion?" Delphine's shriek made me flinch. "Esbern!" Her hand shot for her sword and she had it half out of the scabbard before I could act.

"Whoa, whoa!" I threw myself between Delphine and a perplexed Esbern on one side and Deirdre and Artherius on the other. "Everyone behave!" This was more for Delphine than anyone else, for she actually had her weapon all the way out by this point.

Lydia came crashing in a second later, only half armored with damp hair, sword in hand. She ground to a halt, her eyes fixing on me as if for guidance before panning back and forth between the Blades and the two Altmer. She maintained a sense of readiness, ready to spring on the first identifiable enemy.

Unfortunately, she knew Delphine and Esbern were 'allies' and neither of the Mer showed any sign of hostility.

"How's the wall coming, Esbern?" I asked, shrugging out of my backpack, wondering how long I would be able to go without saying 'I know Deirdre better than I know you' to anyone.

"Who in Oblivion are they?" Delphine repeated, tone stony, eyes hard.

Wow. I didn't even get two sentences in. "Deirdre is a Rester, like I was," I answered, with as much patience I could muster—more than usual, since this was the first time we'd spoken in some time. "And I've known her a lot longer than I've known you. He's her cousin and she vouches for him. So." No need to mention, yet, that his ass was the one I kicked (and spared) in Markarth.

She'll get hung up on 'looked like a Thalmor.' I trust Deirdre.

"I don't get a name?" Artherius demanded, his slanting eyes opening wide. It would have been innocent hurt/shock if it hadn't been for that lopsided grin of his. "I do have one, you know."

"Yes, your name is Mud. I know," I retorted, holding up a hand.

He pulled a face. I resisted the urge to pull one back, focusing instead of the way Deirdre wearily pinched the bridge of her nose.

It had been like this from the time he talked himself into going with Deirdre and I—partly because he could claim and she could substantiate how Malborn got out of Skyrim, how the Dark Brotherhood had rejected the Thalmor's contract on my life so bloodily, and that I was not the only one who had the Thalmor upper echelon very nervous.

According to Artherius, one of their Justicars was murdered and it would have been attributed to me if it wasn't for a scrap of Stormcloak blue silk and the method of death. I'm up-front when I kill someone—that is to say, I don't do sneaky poison or slit throats. Apparently, Ondolemar was poisoned by his bedtime honeyed wine, and quite expertly too—and when I say expertly, I mean someone who knew how to kill a Mer quickly and efficiently.

Apparently, the wineglass had been coated in a beeswax base while the wine ate through it to release the poison which mingled with the honey and the Jazbay grape base already in the wine. That created a time-release poison to attack health and stamina—according to Artherius, Ondolemar could have tested for poison if he wanted to or thought about it. However, until the wax released the powers in it and they had time to mix, there was no poison. The remnants of the poison had been distilled into a powder of sabercat's eye and bees.

Bam. Dead justicar and no suspects. It was a great story if a macabre one.

…I may have taken Deirdre's assurances that I could trust Artherius not to stab me in the back or poison me as truth because they came from her. Or maybe I brought him along in order to get the murdered Justicar story out of him. The man could talk a moneylender into forgiving his debts. Makes me wonder what kind of show I'd get if I let him and Kathutet chat. Could be interesting. Goodness knows I could use a little amusement.

However gregarious he was, Artherius was often irritating in the extreme. He was one of those people it's impossible not to answer back to—the old silent treatment doesn't work (even if I were the type who was good at it). Deirdre claimed he did it because it was how he learned people and that every time I answered back, even if only to tell him Skyrim's air was thin enough without his sucking off indecent amounts of it, I told him more than my words.

Still, he hadn't irritated me enough to rattle the air, so he had some sense of moderation. And when he wasn't being annoying—which was mostly the second day—he had this…game, I guess…that Deridre encouraged. It was a kind of cause and effect thing, each of us compensating for an effect caused by the other which, in turn, provided something unpredictable for the next person to compensate for. I'd never played anything like it before, and it held my interest surprisingly well.

It started with a rock rolling down a hill and ended with a giant taking a scented bath in Markarth. I don't know. That was just what it was.

"I'm recruiting," I answered Delphine. "I've seen him in action and want to keep a close eye—"

"You would?" Artheirus gasped in affected shock, gripping his robes hear his collarbones theatrically.

I wasn't going to answer that—although it was something I might expect from Kathutet, it was funny when Artherius did it rather than threatening and/or enticing.

"Wait…is this…is this the one from Markarth?" Lydia asked, blinking.

Wow. She's a sharp one today. I won't ask how she jumped to that conclusion.

"You've heard of me?" Artherius asked, sounding quite pleased. "How'd she describe it? Was it an epic battle or did I come off as a clown? She seems the type to make people clowns. Even if it's absolutely untrue. I promise, I'm good at what it do."

Lydia bit the inside of her lip, trying not to laugh at this outrageous behavior.

I was an inch from grabbing his hair and pulling it out by the roots.

"Actually she said you had a death fetish," Lydia managed to deadpan.

More power to her.

He did not answer this, exactly, but chuckled as if to say if he did then he definitely wasn't the only one. The sidelong look he cast at me left no doubt as to whom he meant.

I could strangle him with his stupid hair.

Lydia, the traitor, was grinning by this point.

"Deirdre, make him stop," I hissed, almost whining as I watched Delphine and Esbern.

"You overestimate my abilities," Deirdre said wearily. "You stop him. Where do people bed down around here?"

"Lydia! Don't encourage him!" I called as Lydia, weapon lowered, recounted the story I brought back from Markarth.

Artherius—that sneak—was doing the same thing to her he had done to me, learning her through conversation and badinage. It was so strange to watch rather than participate in that I couldn't follow up my attempt to discourage this behavior.

"I'd like a word," Delphine hissed in my ear, Esbern nodding seriously.

"If they convince you to murder us, Deirdre and me," Artherius called as I followed Delphine and Esbern to the side, "Please make sure it's quick. I'm being ridiculously amiable and deserve a clean death for that reason alone!"

Lydia laughed, stifling herself with one hand as Artheirus winked at her.

"You're being ridiculously annoying," I answered darkly. "But I'll consider it."

"And yet you haven't tried to strangle me or rattle the air even once! I'm doing very well."

I couldn't help it. A laugh tore out of me involuntarily, to be met with a cheeky grin. "How did you manage living undercover? You're far too chipper to be one of them." I couldn't stop the question any more than I could stop the laugh.

"I happen to be an excellent actor," he answered, preening over the fact. "There. That'll give your guard dogs something to use against me—excellent actor, how could I possibly be on your side? Wicked, wicked, deceitful Elf."

"Not 'how could I possibly be trustworthy?'" I asked.

"Oh, I don't trust you, either. It's alright, trust is overrated," the Mer waved blithely. "I'd love to hear the slander later, though. Take good notes."

I laughed again as he went back to discoursing with Lydia—or, rather, getting her to discourse to him.

Deirdre shrugged and shook her head, but there was fondness in the gesture.

Watching Lydia's chatting grow animated, I decided that there was a third camp forming in this refuge: now it was me and Deirdre, Delphine and Esbern, Lydia and Artherius.

I followed Delphine and Esbern over to the Wall. "How's the work?" I asked, scowling at it. At one time it was interesting, now it was a big obstacle I couldn't get around.

"Making progress. A few more days should do it," Esbern sighed. "It's been such a joy working on this project. An archivist's dream come true." It struck me, suddenly—and I couldn't say why—how old he was.

"Bellona," Delphine declared, dragging my attention back to the original subject she wanted to talk about.

I suppose I should give her credit for not assuming I'd forgotten about it.

I took a deep breath. "Look, I've known Deirdre all my working life. She's kept me alive for years and I've bailed her out plenty of times. If she says he's not a Thalmor and has just been playing a part, I believe her. If she says he'd a decent sort, I will forgive him for being annoying. Besides…if he's this damn chipper," I added, casting a look back at Artherius and Lydia, whose conversation seemed to have settled down now that he had only the one auditor, "I don't think he's going back to them."

Delphine frowned. "Is that really the one you let go in Markarth?"

"Yes. And, from where things stand now, I'm rather inclined to accept that he helped facilitate my escape," I agreed.

"You're insane. First the Dremora, now the Elf. You're being far too trusting," Delphine sighed. "As he said, good actor."

I 'trust' you, don't I? And he hasn't asked me for trust.

"And you have a point: good actor. However, he's got Deirdre's assurance. And frankly his 'hi, I want to be your ally' meeting with me went far better than yours did." I couldn't help sinking the barb into her. At least with his group I didn't feel jerked around.

And they don't 'trust' me either, but it's just one of those things, a mutual state of not trusting individuals that we can all live with.

A faint flush of anger suffused Delphine's cheeks. Her eyes strayed to Deirdre, who had meandered over to the door leading out on the terrace and opened it, enjoying the cold draft. You know, I begin to think what she really objects to is outside opinions. Lessens her control.

"Don't look so worried. I'm not taking him with me—he can stay right here under your watchful eyes while I complete the task I was set," I promised.

Delphine looked as though this was a mixed blessing.

Esbern, on the other hand, shook his head, but did not argue. I decided to call this a vote of confidence that I knew my business and my friend from that business well enough to make an informed decision that wouldn't get us all killed. "I still need a few more days, but I'm nearly done," he declared, as if glad to change the subject.

"Excellent," I breathed. "I hate all this waiting."

The old man smiled tiredly. "Patience is difficult for the young." With this, he went back to studying the wall, leaving Delphine and I to finish our conversation.

"And her?" Delphine asked.

"Deirdre is staying, too. She's a powerful mage in the Restoration School and she's been fighting undead probably longer than you've been alive." I had no real way of knowing this, but it didn't hurt to say it. You can never really tell with Mer: they're children, adults, or old. Nothing in between. "Don't start anything with her and she won't start anything with you. Be civil and you'll find she's good conversation." Then, with a sigh, "She's a lot nicer than I am."

-B-

Deirdre did prove to be a marvelous moderator, and even Delphine of the suspicious disposition was induced to join polite conversation over dinner.

After dinner, I sat down by the door leading out to the terrace, watching the work outside through a narrow gap between the door and the frame. Lydia sat with me, sharpening her sword. "It's been quiet with you gone," she admitted. "Delphine has a tendency to address the most knowledgeable person in the room when it gets too quiet."

"Let me guess…herself?" I asked dryly.

"Yes. I don't like her, but I can see why she is the way she is," Lydia offered. "And I think she'd be good at what she does if she could do it."

I chuckled at this, though I knew it was not a suggestion that I take Delphine with me into the field. "That makes two people here who are nicer than I feel lately."

"The first step in solving a problem is being aware of it," Artherius announced, making both Lydia and I jump.

I scowled at him as he regarded us both from his six-foot-plus height. He had not made any attempt to ingratiate himself with the Blades, merely to court Lydia's goodwill. It was probably just as well.

"May I join you?" Artherius asked when it became apparent Lydia and I were waiting for him to say something.

"Alright," I answered guardedly.

The Altmer sat down, wincing as his knee shook as he did so.

"…that's not going to heal right, is it?" I asked, trying not to feel guilty.

"Let's put it this way: I'll always know when it comes on to rain," he answered. I hadn't expected the optimism. "Don't worry. I'm just unused to walking long distance. I'll work on that while you're out doing whatever it is you're doing while the Archivist works."

Strangely enough, Artherius used the title like a title and not as though he preferred not to use Esbern's name.

"Speaking of doing whatever it is you're doing…what do you do, exactly?" Artherius asked, stretching out his legs and leaning comfortably against the wall.

"I'm an undead-hunter moonlighting as a dragon-fighter," I answered wearily.

"So how was it you were separated from your Housecarl? I would have thought you, of all people, wouldn't want to travel alone." His brow creased as though this truly made no sense it he being of 'why have one if you won't bring her along?'

Lydia answered for me, "She's got this Dremora she likes to keep around."

"At least he comes back if he gets killed," I noted, remembering the previously occasions where this proved true. "You're not quite so durable."

Artherius' expression was one of distaste. "And here I thought he was a one-time summons."

I held up my hand, showing him the ring.

"May I?" he asked, holding up a hand, one long finger extended.

I held out my hand and let him touch the stone. For a moment I felt a flare of magicka, caught the faint scent of something green, cool, and watery.

"And this Dremora is a companion?" Artherius asked.

"He can't hurt me unless I let him," I answered. "And I'm careful how we interact."

Artherius snorted. "Clearly you've had little to do with Dremora."

"For a Dremora he's alright. More than that, he's helpful in a fight." I frowned at him, watching the way his eyes tracked along my face as he took in the distortion in my expression.

"If you will take a bit of friendly advice—stop using him. Right now," Artherius said in tones of utter seriousness. "Take your housecarl or Delphine. Nothing good ever comes from bound Dremora that aren't randomly summoned from the armies of the Deadlands. Their nature makes it so."

I found it strange that he would address Delphine with any kind of politeness, but he did. In fact, he seemed so tolerant of the cold shoulder she'd been giving him that I felt strangely rude by comparison.

"I'm glad I'm not the only one saying it," Lydia sighed.

"May I?" Artherius held out his hand, this time as though he meant to place his index, middle, and ring fingers against my brow.

"May you what?" I asked nervously.

"Be sure of something. I'm surprised you're not more careful about this…thing. Common sense alone dictates caution," he answered.

"If you're worried he's spelled me—"

"Then there's no reason for you to not let me check. Your housecarl will worry less. Isn't that enough?" he asked.

I opened my mouth. That sneaky rat…

I twitched my shoulders indifferently, temper simmering. I'm not stupid and do know a couple things about magic.

His fingers—or, rather, the spell he directed through them—were strangely cold, and I caught that cool/green/watery smell again.

"I don't sense anything odd hanging around," Artherius said to Lydia—making me wonder if this hadn't been something they'd discussed and which Artherius had revisited for everyone's peace of mind. "She's simply being unwise. Understandable, I suppose. Unwise, but understandable."

I scowled at him.

"Scowl all you like. It doesn't change the fact," Artherius answered, withdrawing his hand.

"How much have you told him about me?" I asked Lydia darkly.

"Not much," Lydia answered defensively…but I could see that she was checking over the conversations she'd been having to make sure this was the truth.

"Is she always this touchy, or is it since she's been consorting with that Dremora?" Artherius asked, his tone detached as though studying an unusual specimen of plant.

"CONSORTING?" I barked, shaking the rafters.

"Ah, no to the consorting then," Artherius responded, watching the dust fall. "That's wise."

"Dragons are touchy by nature," Lydia answered, "she's usually good about it—you just irritate her."

"Dragons. Of course." He winced at this, then pursed his lips.

I glared at him, rubbing my throat so as not to rattle the rafters again.

Finally, the Mer seemed unable to contain himself, "You don't really believe that, do you? Dragon soul, human body, all that rubbish?"

Lydia looked as though he'd hit her across the face.

The question, voiced politely, made me sit there with my mouth hanging open for a minute. "…it's true."

"According to Skyrim lore, I have no doubt," Artherius answered.

"It's not lore," I answered heatedly.

"And that's why I'm discussing it with you: you're a Nord, you grew up in the tradition, you're directly affected by it and, thus, directed by expectation—yours and that of others. Skyrim's lore is not something my previous post covered. This is me trying to understand. Forgive me if the questions poke sensitive topics. Or," he added with a sidelong look, "reinforce your own considerations."

I had to give him points for trying to understand, and recognized—but only after he said it—that I could not reasonably expect him to know and believe the truth. He's an Altmer who infiltrated the Thalmor. Probably never set foot in Skyrim until recent decades. How could he know? "And what about Alduin? You believe in him?" I asked.

"Alduin is considered a Nordic version—or perversion, some might say—of Auri-El."

"Alduin is the firstborn of Akatosh," I corrected, "they aren't anything close to being the same. One's a god and one's a monster."

Artherius was silent a moment as if shuffling his thoughts.

"What about the Dragonborn Emperors?" Lydia asked. "You believe in them, right?"

"Of course. I believe that they were touched by Auri-El and that their bloodline kept the Deadlands from trying to swallow us up." Artherius answered. "But I wasn't there, so I do not concern myself with the details. I certainly don't think it gives them immediate and undisputed claim to ruling the known world, but that's another issue completely. This is not a discussion of politics."

"So you believe that the Dragonborn Emperors were touched by Akatosh but you don't believe in a dragon soul inhabiting the body of the Dragonborn?" I asked, my head starting to feel full of wool.

"You underestimate the power of mystique and the legend of the Dragonborn is powerful in Skyrim. Also, I think your red hair is no lie and this dragon soul thing means you can exercise that temper of your with greater impunity." He said this last bit lightly, as though it was a joke.

I snorted at this—I couldn't help it. My red hair is no lie.

"So if not a dragon soul, then…what?" Lydia asked, her brow crumpling.

Artherius studied me with his bronzy eyes, thinking seriously before he gave us the answer he assembled. "I think that Bellona has a gift." It felt odd to hear my name used. Usually it's Dragonborn or, as with Delphine, no identity is used. "An affinity for a very old, very rare form of magic, the thu'um as you call it. Perhaps it's the touch of the Aedra. Maybe it's just one of those things—great crisis inevitably brings forward people to combat them—win, lose, or die. I have only the proof of my eyes and such lore of the region as filters into the circles in which I have operated."

By now, my hand-me-down conversations were getting unusually loud. They rejected his calmly-presented Altmer notions and screamed for me to correct his ignorance. Forcibly.

Part of me was surprised that there was someone hanging around here who seemed to think there were other explanations. He was wrong, of course, but never having seen me devour a dragon's soul…it does sound a little fantastical, I suppose, to an outsider. Besides, he couldn't 'hear' my hand-me-down conversations.

And he did admit both that his conclusions were based on what proof he had and that his information was not, perhaps, as in-depth and accurate as he might wish.

"I'm not trying to make you doubt yourself," Artherius offered, his tone a little less calmly detached. "And only a fool thinks he knows everything there is to know on any subject. I'm simply stating what I see—and you might consider that the rest of the world won't see through Skyrim's eyes."

He had a decent point, I suppose. And he certainly seemed to listen to as opposed to simply hear what I had to say.

"This is usually where conversation between Delphine and I stops," I muttered.

"I'm not Delphine. And we're not really fighting, you and I." He cast the Blade, sitting near Esbern's workspace, a pitying look but when he spoke he did so with brisk efficiency. "So, you say you fight the entity known as Alduin. Explain him for me, as one who says she's fighting him understands."

For a man who could wind my temper up like a drop spindle winds fiber, he did a remarkable job of not winding me up while we talked.

-B-

Author's Note: in case anyone wants to check my alchemy, the poison mentioned utilizes honey and beeswax to simulate 'honeycomb' which would have been combined with a powdered bee to create a ravage stamina potion (to prevent the Mer from saving himself through lack of strength to rally and do it); Jazbay grapes and the eye of sabre cat (which would have been a powder as well) create a ravage health poison. The equivalent of the time-release poison released the stamina-sapping portion first, with the ravage health closer to the bottom—where it would be more potent for having had more time to release.

Just in case anyone was wondering.