"Oh!"

The moment we entered the Sanctuary I found myself assaulted by a wall of fur, whimpers and desperate kisses. Anya and Antoinetta made space and watched, the former with brow raised, the latter giggling as I sputtered and tried to free myself.

"Luke! Lu – down, boy! Okay, okay, yes, I'm here!"

"Aww, he missed you!" Netta cooed, giving him a little smack on his wiggling rump as he ran in circles. "Telaendril was smart enough to bring him here for you. That's how I found out you'd gotten yourself arrested in the first place."

"I - Talos sake, Luke, let me breathe!" I finally staggered back to my feet, wiping drool from my face with my sleeve. Even crimson red his big, sad doggie eyes were impossible to resist. I pat him on the head with a sigh.

Anya tilted her head. "And when did you decide you were responsible enough to have what looks like a Daedra for a pet?"

She must have meant it as a tease, or a question, but the room went cold. Netta looked at me with pursed lips, as though expecting me to burst into tears again. I sucked in a breath. Under my hand, Luke crooned.

"… Maman gave him to me."

It took her breath for a moment. She blinked, a hand over her chest. "… Before she…?"

"After."

An awkward silence. After a moment of squirming, Antoinetta broke it. "I," she declared, "Am going to get us that wine. Meet me in the kitchen, mmkay?"

She fled, leaving Anya and I to share our mutual grief. The silence between us felt thick, almost suffocating, weighted with history and memory. Even Luke seemed to grow somber, moving to sniff at the hem of Anya's skirts as she sighed, a hand over her belly.

I frowned, then felt my eyes widen as realization sparked. It had been so long since I'd seen her any other way – "You're pregnant? Again?"

"This will be number four." She laughed in her throat, rubbing the bump now. "I'm about – four, five months along? I do hope Madame Tucket is right and it's a girl, this time. I love my boys but the household is becoming something of a patriarchy, and that will never do."

"Madame Tucket?" I stiffened at the thought of my old governess. "She's not – she's not here, is she?"

"Hah! Oh, gods, no. Can you imagine what she'd think of all this? No, she's home keeping an eye on things. Perhaps I should have brought her along, though." A smirk somehow both wicked and genteel. "Just imagine the scolding you'd get, stealing a horse. The only woman who might keep you in line, hm? Even maman couldn't – "

She trailed off. Eyes closing for a moment before they flickered over again to meet mine. Another difference between us – I had papa's eyes, grey-blue. Hers were the beautiful near black of maman, glimmering in the candlelight.

"I came to – to pay my respects. To say my goodbyes. Monsieur Valtieri was kind enough to inform me by letter what had happened, and I thought I should be here. And to check on you, of course." A soft smile. "It sounds like you've been getting into plenty of trouble, ma petit soeur."

For a long moment I was silent, ignoring her tease. She'd known – she must have known nearly all our lives, what maman was, what she'd done. Luke nudged a cold nose under my hand and I pet him absentmindedly, chewing my lip. She'd known, and yet I'd never seen her question maman, never struggle with who she was like I had. She'd known and…

"Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"…Maman thought it was best you didn't know. That you wouldn't – that it would hurt you too much. You were always – more delicate. And you loved them so much…"

I leveled a glare on her, hackles raised. "And you didn't?"

"Of course I did. I loved papa, and Falrung was always good to us." A low sigh. "We just – we… you didn't know, about what they'd done to maman, and you took it so hard when…"

She didn't have to say it. When they died, when they were taken from me. When our lives had changed forever. A flicker of understanding– I lifted my gaze back to hers, breath caught.

"You knew about them?" I'd only found out about papa's affair almost a teenager, but… "Back then?"

"I knew before she did. I didn't understand it, of course, but I told maman what I'd seen." Her smile was fixed now, gentle and weary and not really a smile at all. A curved line painted in rouge on a mask. "And when she met Toltette, when they began courting, I knew she'd leave papa in time. I just never thought…"

I'd never really considered it before. Anya had always seemed so accepting of everything that had happened, so smoothly adapting to their death, to life as a noble. And even now with maman gone, she was so elegantly composed. Because she'd known. She'd known everything.

She inhaled through her nares, eyes drifting shut. For a brief moment, I hated her – how could she be so calm, so held together when I felt like I was splitting apart at every seam? Even knowing what she'd known, how did she stay so serene? It had always been that way. She was the sensible, dutiful daughter, I was the wild black sheep.

But her eyes opened and glimmered with tears, and any childish anger melted away.

"I'm sorry." It came out as a whisper.

"So am I, Dusty." Another embrace, tighter this time, laced taut like the binds of sisterhood that tied us together, no matter our differences. "Je t'aime."

"Je t'aime, Anya."

"You two!" Speaking of sisters. Antoinetta stood with a hand on her hip, the other holding a bottle aloft and a pout on her lips. "I've been waiting foreeever! Come sit down, or Vicente will think I just borrowed his wine for myself!"

Anya chuckled, and I followed suit in spite of myself. A matter of minutes and we were seated in the kitchen, a basket of warm nutty rolls and chalices filled between Netta and I. Luke lay at my feet eating the occasional crumb, and I lay my head on the table to listen to my sisters, one old and one new, get to know each other. I shared my own story in fragments – what had happened these past months – but for the most part, I was content to listen.

"I do appreciate you keeping an eye out for Dust, Antoinetta. And I must thank you for teaching her bladework. It's rather difficult to imagine her with a dagger, though."

Mercifully I was allowed to sit out of the conversation, at least for now. I was tired, too tired to pipe up in my own defense.

"She keeps trying to swing it like she's wielding a sword! That, or she takes forever concentrating. She moves good, though."

Besides, she wasn't wrong. I sniggered onto the wood, hooking fingers lazily around the stem of my goblet to drag it closer.

"Dusty and I used to attend dance lessons. I have to confess, it's the one place she's more graceful than me." A fond little laugh. She pat me on the top of the head. "Anything musical, really. I never did catch on to the lute like she did. Anything elseand she was just hopeless. Proper manners and poise, history, how to address the court and build connections with the other Houses…"

"I got m'self out of prison, didn't I?" I grumbled, lifting myself up if only to take a sip of my steadily shrinking goblet.

"How did you manage that, anyway?" I heard the familiar smirk in Anya's voice, snappy and entertained. "Raise your skirt and show a little leg, flutter your lashes and all that?"

"No!" Indignant, but only for a moment. I muttered into my goblet. "… Thought about it."

"You always did like Dunmeri men. And yet…" She didn't need to say anything else. I scoffed and sculled another good gulp, handing it off to Netta to be refilled as she tittered.

"And yet! Speaking of – what's our dear Lachance wielding, eh?" It was Netta's turn to tease, giving me a little pinch on the cheek until I hid my head again. "Shortsword, longsword, claymore…?"

"You know he uses a shortswo – " The meaning of her innuendo hit me and I sputtered, red in the face. "Antoinetta!"

"What! You nabbed him away, it's only fair you share the details." She bit her lip, giggling. "Is that how you got him, like she said? Did you seduce him?"

I glared at her, snatching my goblet back. "He pursued me, thank you." Images flashed by – that first drunken kiss, our first night together in that alcove as the rain drummed outside. Tumbling in the snow laughing, tearing away from him knowing how he'd used me…

I took another swig.

"I don't know why. I mean, I love you, Dusty-doo, but you're…" She gestured towards me as I glowered.

"I'm what, precisely?"

"Well…"

"Hair chopped off like a boy…" It was Anya who spoke up, glancing at Netta who carried on.

"Frumpy robes. You look so nice in your dress, you should wear it more often – "

"Dibella forbid she wear anything pretty."

"I like pretty! It's just not practical for alchemy, and I don't like to be so wrapped up in ties and lace and corsets I can't move – "

"And you always smell like dried herbs – ooh! Maybe it was your aphrodisiac!" Antoinetta leered, practically sitting in my lap for how close she scooched her chair. "Is that how you seduced him? Or a love potion, maybe? Spill the secrets, sister!"

"I told you, he…" Well. I had kissed him first. Still. I pushed away the wine, suddenly sour, and made a face. "… I thought maybe it meant something. But I don't know, anymore. He used me."

"What do you mean?" Anya frowned, eyes narrowing. Netta only looked away as I sat up.

"… After – after everything in Kvatch, in the swamp, we went to Leyawiin. He killed a man there." Warm blood pooling against my hands, the bitter scent of the necrotizing poison, my screams for help shattering the quiet night. "But he hid it from me. He used me as, as bait, and used my poison to do it. He – the Captain – he was a good man."

"Phillida." The sheer ice of Antoinetta's voice gave me pause. I nodded, a shiver down my back at her inhale. "He's executed Family before. My Brother."

"He was – he helped me. He found me outside Kvatch, brought me to Bravil…"

"And if he'd known what you are, who you work for, he'd have killed you on the spot." The sentence slapped down sharp as a whip, her blue eyes suddenly fierce. "Any one of us. Me, her – " A point of her chin at Anya. "And you, too." Only now did her voice, her features soften again. "He deserved it."

I didn't agree, but I knew there'd be no changing her mind on that. Luke whined at my feet and I gave him a scratch, an excuse to avoid her gaze. "He still used me."

"He was just doing what was best, Dusty, what any one of us would do."

"What was best for him." Bitterness crept in now, but Netta's voice stayed soft.

"He went after you in Kvatch, didn't he? He protected you. I think – I think he cares about you, Dusty." I bit back a wince. "And you're not even really Family, just a servant." Her eyes narrowed in thought for a moment, trailing to the side with brow furrowed.

Anya reached across the table to take my hand, giving a little squeeze. Her lips parted, but the scrape of wood interrupted her – Antoinetta had stood up, hands on the table, looking over us both.

"Right. I know exactly what you need to do. You'll come with me on a contract."

We both stared at her, the hilt of my goblet hitting the table with a thud. "You're joking."

"No, no! Listen. You'll come and help me, and then you can be one of us for real! You can be protected, 'n belong and everything, like I do! You'll see it's not so hard, not so scary."

"Out of the question."

"It'll be easy! I've got the perfect one in mind - he's a right bastard, you won't even feel bad for him. We'll poison him and then you can be one of us, for real, you'll understand – "

"You're mad." Suddenly bitter and noxious, I shoved the wine away. "I'm not going to kill anyone, Netta."

A whine crept into her voice. "Just listen! I know you don't like this stuff but if you just do it with me, so you're safe, you'll see – "

"No. It's not even worth considering." Gods dammit. I hugged myself tight for a moment, glaring at her. Then Anya's thoughtful murmur hit me, and my blood ran cold.

"Perhaps – perhaps it is worth considering."

I yanked my hand from hers like it had burned, staring. "… Anya?"

"Maman never told you about her, about us, because she thought it was – safer. That it would hurt you too much, that you were better off uninvolved." She mulled on it, eyes narrowed, skimming slowly over the table as she went distant in thought. Finally, they flickered up to meet mine again. "But now you are involved, for better or worse. And perhaps…"

"What are you saying, Anya?" No, she couldn't be asking me to do this, to even think of doing this. Antoinetta I could understand, but Anya…

She only sighed, dark eyes holding mine. "I worry about you, out here in Cyrodiil all alone. You'd be safer if you belonged, if you were really Family."

A chill, icewater down my back. "… You're not like me, are you? I'm a servant, but you're…"

"Not a Sister, not properly. Technically she outranks me." A soft laugh to Antoinetta, who only watched us both with arms crossed. "I'm a Broker, Dust. I keep things running smoothly, and I've known the Family in Jehenna all my life."

"But you've…" I swallowed hard. For just a moment, she looked away. Ashamed? Or just unwilling to see my face, how much this hurt to hear?

"… Politics in High Rock are, quite literally, cut-throat. I've done what I've had to, to protect me and mine. I haven't wielded the blade, no, but my hands are bloodied."

Court intrigues, rife with secrets, espionage and assassination. I'd always known that, but it had never really clicked that she would be part of it, too. All the breath left me in a gust like I'd taken a blow.

"We do what we have to. I just want to show you it's not as hard as it sounds, that's all." Netta's hand on my shoulder. I shrunk away.

"I won't." Two syllables spat out against the table. I could almost hear the frost around Antoinetta now, suddenly hard in her voice.

"I don't want to make you, Dusty."

"Make me?" I stood up now, poor Luke scrambling away to crouch near Anya instead. Fists curled, chest tight as I leveled a scowl at Netta. She was – what, threatening me? How dare she? "You – "

"The Five Tenets."

"What?" I'd seen the Plaques on the walls, of course, reading the most basic laws of the Brotherhood – to never kill or steal from Family, to hold their secrets close. "What do they have to do with this?"

"You heard your sister. I outrank you both." Her pointed chin raised high. "That's the third Tenet. 'Never disobey or refuse to carry out an order from a Dark Brotherhood superior.' So if I order you…"

"So what?" Anya tried to intervene but I was quicker, snapping. "What if I refuse?"

Her voice was soft, but cold. I'd never seen her look so grave. "To do so is to invoke the Wrath of Sithis."

I froze. A voice, Her voice, crept through me bitter, breath-stopping cold.

"A wraith – imbued with powers I shall give you, sweet daughter, you shall serve. You shall exact the Wrath of Sithis upon those who would dishonor his name, upon those who would offend me."

The Wrath of Sithis, from a wraith of Sithis.

Maman.

If I disobeyed, if I broke that Tenet outright. If like Lucien had warned me I forced his hand as Listener, and punishment fell on me…

I sank back into my chair.

"It's for your own good, Dusty." She was gentle again now, contrite if unwilling to back down. "Just trust us, okay? You'll see."

"I just want to make sure you're protected. That you have people around you who will take care of you, help you when you need it." Anya spoke softly, too. Always the calm, logical one, always practical. Luke left her, creeping back to rest his heavy head against my feet again. "I can't stay here forever, Dust. And we all need family."

Family. Maman's face, flickering between the one I'd known all my life and that twisted, howling visage.

What choice did I have?

I nodded.

Netta squealed in delight, reaching down to hug me, ignoring that I shrank away. "Yes! It'll be okay, I promise, it really will. Alright? Alright. You'll see! Just listen – here's the plan…"