What would maman say if she could see me now?

The back of my head hit cold stone behind me as I let myself sag, staring from the bench where I'd been seated to the shadowed ceiling above. They'd taken me from my house to the jail – not quite the dungeon, thank gods. For petty prisoners, bar fights and domestic disputes, more to put them away while they worked out paying the fine than true imprisonment. That was deeper below.

From somewhere was a faint, intermittent dripping. The scritch of the warden's quill. A rumbling snore from the cell's only other resident, the local drunk sleeping off a bad night.

And me.

Maybe it was just exhaustion, feeling emotionally wrung out after weeks of – of everything. Maybe the looming possibilities hadn't sunk in just yet. Whatever the case, I couldn't bring myself to be afraid. Frustrated, yes, even as inside I was laughing, and further still I was…

What have you gotten yourself into this time, my Dust?

I'd been in a prison only once before, years ago as a girl. A few times a year, we'd all bundle up in the carriage and head down to Jehenna or even Wayrest, a few days of precious escape from life at home. Anya and I always made the best of those visits. We'd explore the market with poor Madame Tucket huffing behind, marvel over strange baubles and wares, gawk at foreigners, try and fail to delicately eat those sticky, caramel-covered choux puffs the patisserie sold…

I'd given them the slip, once, and made my way to an alchemist's shop. I hadn't meant to steal the reagents – in my young mind, I reasoned that I'd tell Tucket what I'd done, and we'd be forced to come back and pay from our spending money that she held. Tucket would never have let me buy them things outright, but if we had no other choice…

Of course, my plan never got that far. I was caught, and a local guard took me to the prison to wait for my wards to fetch me. I think she did it to scare me, more than anything – I knew later they'd never meant to keep me. But scare me it did. I'd cried and cried, until maman came for me.

Her voice in echo, making me blink back tears. I chuckled, a sharp exhale between my teeth, shaking my head.

"You think this is funny, do you?" The warden stood from his desk, approaching with arms crossed. "Horse theft is a serious crime. Prison time and a hefty fine, to boot. What, thought you'd just nab one of Cheydinhal's finest and head out for a joy ride?"

I couldn't help it. Another burble of laughter ended by my hand slapped over my mouth, a second too late as his brow drew down. A scowl. "Well, I'm going to make sure you pay every septim and spend every second of your sentence down here, brat. You young ones, thinking you can just do whatever you want without consequences – "

"It wasn't – it wasn't like that. I fully meant to bring her back, but the guards took her." I shook off the mix of humour and despair, trying to keep my voice level as I stood to meet him at the bars. "I had to get to Kvatch. I didn't have my own horse."

"Oh, you were just borrowing!" A sneer. He scoffed, lip raised to show yellow-and-brown streaked teeth, breath rank with tobacco. "It doesn't work like that. You've made your bed and now you're damned well going to lie in it. Do you even realize how long you're going to be in here?"

Now it was starting to sink in. A prickle down my back. I blinked. "… How long?"

A grin. "About a year, I'd say, eight months if you're on good behavior."

A year?

He chuckled at the look on my face, arms folding across his chest again as he regarded me smugly. "Sinking in now, is it? Just how much shit you're in?"

"You – you can't actually – "

"Oh, I very well can! We've got plenty of comfortable cells down in the dungeon that have gone empty for far too long."

The amusement was swept away. My jaw hung agape now as I scrambled to think of excuses, some bargaining chip, something – "I didn't – I only took her so I could try and help someone, I had to get to Kvatch, I – "

"Save it." He turned from me, speaking airily as he strode back to his desk while I clung to the bars. "My job is to see justice done, and I will. Unless you've got a treasure horde of gold for bail or a friend up in the castle, you're done."

I sunk back onto the bench, numb with shock.

After everything that I'd seen and done, after hell itself, how strange to find myself lost now. Not there, not in the blood and snow or ash and fire, but at the hands of local law enforcement. Such a simple, stupid, normal thing to ruin my life.

A year.

Maman wouldn't be coming to rescue me. Not this time. And Lucien was gone, out of the city. The Brotherhood had pull with the count but Netta had told me once that those stupid enough to get themselves caught were on their own –

And I certainly didn't have a treasure horde hidden away.

I was alone.

Think. I tried to catch my suddenly short breath, breathing deep the stale air. Think! In the corner the drunk snorted, coming awake with a little gurgle.

"Bwu-wuh? Wher'm I now?"

"You're in the drunk tank, Aldos, where you belong." The warden didn't look up from his work, still scribbling away.

"Oh? Oh! S'all good, then, in't it?" A groan. The portly Dunmer leaned back against the wall again before creaking open a red eye, brow furrowing. "What's, what's a nice girl like you 'doin here, huh?"

"I…" The warden abruptly stood, interrupting me as he walked away from his desk, back out of the room. Only when the heavy footfalls of steel boots faded did I finish, blinking back tears. "… I stole a horse."

The man hiccupped, rubbing at his eyes. "Y'don't look the thieving type."

"I'm not." Maybe if I had been, I'd have realized just how dire the consequences would be. Dammit, dammit! This is bad. This is – what can I do? How can I possibly get out of this? "I – I only took her so I could get to Kvatch. I was going to bring her back…"

"Kvatch?" He sniffled, scratching a muzzled chin. "Where the gate t'Oblivion came up?"

"… My mother was there."

Where before was a drunken daze, now something both sharper and softer, focused and sympathetic crept into his gaze. The apple of his throat bobbed. "You went after 'er?"

"I wasn't…" I clenched my teeth hard. It felt like I had to push past a heavy, black lump in my chest just to draw breath, just to speak. "… I wasn't fast enough."

"M'wife was killed by bandits on th'road, bout six weeks ago." I caught my breath. He said it so plainly, even as his voice was hoarse with grief. "Tried t'fight 'em off, but I just – I couldn't stop 'em."

My own grief felt – not gone, but smaller now. Softened knowing I was far from the only who knew loss. "… I'm so sorry."

"Let me give you some advice." A belch. He leaned forward, head between his knees for a moment before straightening. "Don't, don't, try t'deal with it like I have, alright? Don't drink. They'll fine you out've house 'n home. Not two months ago I was a happy man with a pretty wife and a nice house, 'n now I'm jess th'local drunk. Just like that." A snap of his fingers.

"I…"

"Ridiculous, really. Ancestors, I wudn't hurting no one. Just puked a 'lil, is all, and Dervera's fine with it. It's that thrice-damned Leland." He wasn't hearing me anymore, lost in his own injustice and grief. "Levying taxes t'keep the fat folk in the castle happy, the count and his poncy s'wit son, probably skimming it off fer his own purse…"

And now, I wasn't really hearing him. Dragging my fingers through my hair, trying to think, when I caught the last of his rant and blinked. Poncy s'wit son in the castle…

I flew to my feet. Over to the bars, grabbing them to look out as best I could. "Warden! Warden, sir – "

"Oh, for Talos sake…" A distant grumbling. The man came back glaring, a pair of manacles in hand. I bit back a shudder. "You're that eager to get to your new cell below, are you?"

"I do have a friend in the castle."

A hiked brow. The Dunmer watched me warily, face contorted, as the warden scowled. "What're you on about?"

"The count's son!" Dammit, what was his name? I remembered his face at the dance, his almost endearingly pretentious attitude and detachment from the 'commonfolk' – "Farwil!" Not exactly a friend – we'd had one dance, barely exchanged names – but dammit, it wasn't like there was anything else I could try, was there? "Please, let me send him a message."

"You're full of it." But he didn't seem certain. I could use that. I puffed myself up as best I could, fully becoming one of those 'poncy' nobles the Dunmer beside me so disdained.

"Perhaps. But on the off-chance I'm not, it would look rather terrible for you if down the line, you found out I was a friend of his Lordship, wouldn't it? I wouldn't want to see your career endangered, sir."

He regarded me for a long moment. Then, finally, a gruff sigh. "What message– " A sneer. "Do you want sent to him?"

"Tell him…" I chewed my lip for a moment, thinking. "Tell him the Marquess he danced with at the Autumn Festival needs to speak to him, urgently. Please."

Another scoff. He turned, muttering in a mocking echo under his breath. "Some marquess."

Some marquess, indeed.

I flopped back down boneless, knowing from here I could only wait. The Dunmer watched me skeptically now, red eyes narrowed. "Yer a noble?"

"Well – yes and no. Not these days, not really. Just back in High Rock. But…" It was something. Wasn't it?

Maybe.

What next, hm? I scolded myself inwardly, blowing out a puff of air to get my bangs out of my eyes. You met him for a few minutes, Mara's sake. Think he'll bust you out, pay your fine?

It's the best idea I've got. He asked me to dance, after all. Maybe he'll remember. I did now, picturing that night, the twirling and laughter. He did seem to like me. Said I was a 'lovely young lady…'

Visions of giggling, toying with my hair and flirting with stableboys at the manor more to irritate Tucket and Toltette than anything else. Of purring at Bolor or taunting Lucien. Maybe I could use that to my advantage, too. A little flutter of the lashes, a little tilt of the head…

My face flushed hot to consider it. We'll see.

Time passed. The minutes were punctuated by that continual dripping, the occasional snort from the Dunmer as he lay half-dozing now, but otherwise they crawled by in silence. Twenty minutes, forty. Finally the footsteps returned. I sprung to my feet, brushed myself off. Heard maman's whisper, in the back of my head.

Mind the lace.

The warden returned, now accompanied by the young lord himself. I swallowed hard, tried to compose myself as best I could while my mind raced. What to say? Should I curtsy? For once I regretted not paying attention to Madame Tucket's lessons.

"Lord Farwil." I decided on just a little gesture, the ends of my skirt up for a moment, a bow of my head. The warden scoffed as Farwil frowned.

"Not often I see a Marquess in a cell. What in Vehk's name have you called me down for, hm? Who are you?"

Shit. I stood upright again, trying to let my words come out honeyed. "We met at the Autumn Festival, my Lord. You danced with me."

Recognition lit his eyes, thank gods. A grin, ear to ear. "Ah! Yes, yes – I remember now. The runaway Marquess, yes? Fled from her title and all that." Relief coursed through me as he stepped closer, an inquisitive line drawn over his brow, lips pursed. "But why are you in here?"

"I -…" Grace, poise, silver tongue. The traits of House Toltette, dammit, even if I'd never claimed myself one of them. "I've found myself in this untenable position, my lord, on, on account of a misunderstanding."

"Misunderstanding. Nonsense." The warden sneered. "She stole a horse, my lord."

Shock on the young Dunmer's face. "What possessed you to make you do that?"

"I had to get to Kvatch."

The air changed. Heavier, still. Farwil's eyes narrowed, then widened. "Kvatch. You were in Kvatch?"

I nodded, pursing my lips.

"You saw the Oblivion gate?"

"I went in it."

He sucked in a breath through his teeth, staring at me. Even the warden seemed taken aback. "More and more have been seen, throughout the province. It can't be much longer until one comes here. The Knights of the Thorn have been preparing, but – tell me everything."

I hesitated. Uncertain how to bargain, instead flickering my gaze to my grip on the bars, then back to his eyes. He stroked his chin for a moment before nodding. "A moment."

He and the Warden vanished. I didn't dare sit back down, breath held, fingers clenched around the cold iron. Eyes closed, trying to drive away images that came with the thought of the destroyed city. They came anyway. Lucien trapped in the Harrada, the crumbling bridge, a gored hook…

I blinked back tears. Behind me the Dunmer grumbled, sitting upright again.

"S'pose you're walking out of here soon, then."

"I – I hope so." I had to force myself to relax, try and let the tension run from my shoulders. A glance back where he sat. The poor man looked a mess, I realized now – eyes bagged, chin scruffy, a yellowish stain on the front of his tunic. Grief had done that to him.

I couldn't let it do that to me.

"How – how long will they keep you here?"

"Not long, 'magine. Jest long enough fer me to sober up, is all." He waved me off, grunting, rubbing the side of his head. "Almalexia's tits, my head hurts. I'd kill for a Sujamma."

How tempting it had been in the swamp, to slip into the haze those drugs had offered and let my hurt float away. He must have felt the same. A moment to think, and I decided.

"… I run The Dusty Cauldron, near the chapel. I – if the drinking is a problem, if you need help, you could drop by. At the very least get something for hangovers." I gave a little smile.

A frown from him. Finally he nodded, leaning against the wall again. "I'll think 'bout it. Going t'sleep this off s'more, first. No more stealing horses for you, now, you hear?"

I had to laugh in spite of myself, nodding. "No more stealing."

"Good." In a matter of minutes he'd drifted off, snoring loudly, unmoving even when the warden and Lord Farwil returned. Hope sparked at the scowl the warden wore, not to measure a flicker of satisfaction.

"Now, regardless of your title or your reasons, you did commit a crime." The young Lord crossed his arms over his chest, speaking with all the noble Imperial air any Count of Cyrodiil surely held. "And we cannot overlook that. Your fine remains, and must be paid off without argument."

Alright. The fine, I could handle. It might take years of paying it off, garnished from my shop's income, but I could handle that. Imprisonment, though…

"However, in light of your justification I, Lord Farwil Indarys, son of Count Andel Indarys, waive your sentence." He rose a hand in gesture, pointed chin high. I could have dropped with relief. "With the caveat that another crime, even a minor one, will have you thrown back in here to serve out the full sentence immediately."

The warden took over now in his official capacity, speaking dully, almost pouting. "Do you understand and accept these terms?"

"Yes! I – yes, of course."

Only reluctantly he took out keys and opened the cell. I took a hesitant step, then another out, breathing a sigh of relief. The warden gave a low grumble in his throat, glancing under bushy grey eyebrows between me and the young Dunmer.

"Shall I escort her out, my Lord?"

"No need. She can walk with me, and I'm certain our Marquess – " His eyes on me, gleaming red, just a touch of a smirk on his lips. "Will be on her best behavior now, yes?"

"Yes, my Lord, without question."

We stepped into the fresh air, damp and sweet with the scent of melting snow. Spring was truly beginning to settle now in Cheydinhal, day by day shrinking snow piles until only green, muddied grass was left behind. Birds chirped in the eaves of the nearby buildings, a warm breeze flirting with my hair. Farwil took my hand as we surfaced, moving past to stand before me.

"Please, tell me everything you can. Father insists the guard will handle any dangers, but the Knights of the Thorn must be ready."

And I told him what I could. How the gate spewed out daedra, seemingly endlessly. The wasteland of red inside, the dangers it held – pools of lava, the harrada, remembering with a wince Lucien hanging limp from the vines. The tower, the glowing beam in the center and the magicka it gave off, how it had all crumbled and come apart…

And by some small miracle, I did it all without breaking into sobs.

We'd looped back through the city towards the castle again by the time I'd finished my tale, him nodding, brow furrowed in thought. "Shock magic, then. If you'll prepare another batch of those poisons you did for the guard, my men can be outfitted, too."

"It would be my pleasure, my Lord." We'd come to a stop in the foyer now, just outside the main hall of the castle proper. I made a little curtsy, glancing up at his chuckle.

"You know – don't tell anyone, but technically…" A wicked smirk, like the ones he'd given me that night at the festival. "You outrank me, as a Marquess."

The tears I'd held back, stinging my eyes, abated. I giggled with him, shaking my head. "I ran from it all, though."

"Yes, but our titles follow us everywhere, no matter who we try to shape ourselves to be." I had only a moment to ponder that before he spoke again, in a murmur this time. "Ah – Father is entertaining someone. Visiting dignitary, it looks like." Up towards the throne stood two figures, curtsying low before turning back towards where we stood.

"I wouldn't want to interrupt."

"Then we'll part here, hm? I appreciate the information, Miss… I'm sorry, it's completely fled my mind…"

"Dust?"

It wasn't him or I that spoke. The voice was silky, feminine, familiar.

The world fell away under my feet. For a moment I could have sworn it was her walking towards me, eyes wide in surprise, the stranger dressed in lace and finery…

No, not a stranger. Caramel curls and pale skin, a gloved hand over her lips and my mother's features, transported out of time to a younger face. I'd always taken after father, mostly, but she took after maman.

"...Anya?"

"Dusty!" And it was Antoinetta beside her, Netta who practically pounced on me, crowing. "You got out! Oh, I was so worried, and then she came and we talked to the Count and –"

Lord Farwil cleared his throat, looking a mixture of puzzled and flustered at the sudden commotion. "Miss Dust, you said? – has a much lessened sentence, yes. Forgive me, Madame, I haven't…"

"My apologies - you must be Lord Farwil, yes? Your father mentioned you." I stood in a daze with Antoinetta dangling off me, watching Anya curtsy. "I am the Marquess De Toltette. Anya, if it pleases you, my Lord."

"Ah! And Miss Dust must be your sister, then." A polite smile, a bow in return. He took her hand as offered and kissed the back before righting himself, regarding the three of us. His words held true now – he was his title again, smooth and proper. "By your leave, ladies. I must speak to my father."

"Of course. Please, convey him my thanks for his hospitality. And thank you, as well."

"You are most welcome."

All the commotion fled, but I was still in shock. Anya turned to me with a sigh, smile fond and exasperated as I'd ever known it. Netta finally let me go just to frown, giving me a poke in the shoulder.

"Well? Aren't you going to say hello to your sister?"

My sister – not like Antoinetta, but by birth, my sister I'd loved and hated and who must have, I realized then, lied to me all my life, waited expectantly. She took my hands as I searched for the words, swallowing hard and blinking back tears.

"I hate you."

And I fell into her arms.

A musical sigh of a laugh. It never struck me so clearly before, just how much she sounded like maman. The sobs I'd been holding back finally broke through as she held me, shushing me like she had when we were children all those years ago.

Antoinetta fretted behind me, hopping foot to foot. "Oh, Dusty! Oh – oh, don't cry!" My face buried against Anya's shoulder, in her perfumed curls, I could only hear the whiskered grin that followed. "Alright, ladies, I know exactly what we need. Let's go back to my place, hm? There's a bottle of wine with our names on it."

Anya chuckled and parted us, keeping a hand on my shoulder and raising a brow. "What do you think, hm? Time to catch up on things?"

It was more an order than a request, anyway. But I nodded. We made way for the Sanctuary, and I found myself only too happy to have a drink or three.