Hi, folks! I'm so sorry I vanished last week - ended up with a nasty cold and by the time I resurfaced, it was Saturday and I'd waaay missed upload day. Things might get a little more sporadic with the new chapters needing more in-progress tweaking and work being a bit crazy, but I do want to keep publishing at least semi-regularly. Thank you guys so, so much for reading - as always, your kind words and patience amazes me and keeps my heart warm even in freeze-your-toes-off Canadian winter.
Oh, and psst: my version of this story on another fanfiction site with the initials AO3 has a special surprise, a drawing of Dust's dress that I unfortunately can't add here! No links or pictures, sadly. If you're interested, you should be able to find me there under the same name as here. ;)
I held a sheet of honey-gold in my hands, for a moment marvelling at it, trying not to think about the end I was working towards. It was remarkably beautiful, like the stained glass in the windows of the chapel. Part of me wanted to bring it upstairs, see the golden sheen it would cast with sunlight beaming through, but I didn't dare expose it now, finally ready.
Boiled and caramelized, then poured, the poisonous honey was now brittle as glass. Moreso – just grinding down my pestle was enough to reduce it to a yellow-red powder, tiny crystals clinging to my gloves.
Pure, potent, sweet and deadly. While the raw honey would have sunk to the bottom of the skooma, this would blend seamlessly into the drug. During the after-party, when more reputable guests would leave and the skooma would come out, Antoinetta would cause a distraction. I'd simply keep the vial handy, pour out the powder into his goblet, and…
Can I really do this?
I paused in my work, swallowing hard and remembering what Antoinetta had told me about our 'target'. Voranil, an Altmer hosting 'exclusive' parties where only the best and brightest of Cheydinhal gathered to discuss politics, history, art over fine foods and finer wine. But there were other guests, too. The Orum Gang, for one – a skooma peddling group of Orcs, undoubtedly Voranil's supplier. After the nobles and academics left, Voranil would get his fix and relax with his real friends, outside of pretense and through a sweet haze. At least, this was what she'd told me.
The snobbish, haughty condescension of a noble was just an act. Behind it he was a lecher and an addict, regularly beating his servants bloody in a drugged frenzy. Likely it was they who had saved up for years to 'commission' the Brotherhood, so much gold for a little blood spilled, a little sweet justice.
He deserved it. She told me so, over and over when I seemed hesitant. Not only would I be serving the Brotherhood, pleasing Sithis, but I'd be ridding Cheydinhal of a pest for good. 'Think of it like poisoning a rat', she brightly told me yesterday.
But what about the next time, or the next? Can I turn back, after this? Can I even turn back now? Niyaneh's offer, her dulcet voice echoing in my head with the hum of her bees, tempted even now. But...
The powder swept into a vial, I knew the answer. Whatever my excuses – my loyalties, the demands made of me, the lack of other choices – ultimately it came down to my own fear. And I was afraid. Afraid to defy the order I'd been given.
No – no, that wasn't it. I didn't want to die, but I might have been willing for the life of another, if it were some faceless spirit that would kill me. But it would be my mother. I knew, painfully well, that if I disobeyed the last face I'd see would be hers.
"Is it done?"
I gave her my wordless answer, lifting the vial to the light to catch in glimmering pinpricks before stowing it away. She gave a low sigh, shaking her head and looking over my workspace.
"It almost reminds me of papa's laboratory, all those years ago. But even he followed formulas. You make your own." A small, tight smile. Bitterness unleashed in me, lashing and snapping. I swallowed hard.
"… Papa would never make something like this."
Her eyes softened. She reached for me, a hand on my shoulder as I turned from her. "Papa never had to face what you have. You're just protecting yourself, Dust. If you're one of them…"
If I was a Sister, I'd always have people I could rely on. A home to return to. Antoinetta's lessons wouldn't just be for self defense. They'd be…
"What if I'm asked to do it again? What if I'm commanded to?"
"We'll face that when we come to it. Right now – it doesn't seem like there's much choice, regardless. Right now you're bound by their laws, but without their protection. It – I think it makes sense for you to have both, since you can't have neither. I know it sounds – horrible, but…"
"But maman did it." You did it.
"… Yes."
I'd stripped off my equipment piece by piece – gloves, mask, washing out my tools and scrubbing off my table. By now it was all pristine again, and I could delay the inevitable no longer.
With my work done we left. I shooed Luke to the hearth with a bowl of chopped-up venison and a blanket to lay on. I doubted being what he was he even needed to eat but he certainly enjoyed it, and I had to admit to myself that since the ruin, I'd started to appreciate him more.
Locking up, we made way for the Sanctuary. The roads were green and brown now instead of grey, muddied and streaked from the wet spring grasses as the last stubborn snowdrifts melted away. Wildflowers crested over the green, violet and yellows and pastel blues. The afternoon sky held a promise of a clear evening, and more gentle days to come.
We walked in silence, her carrying her own share of today's work. Dresses – one for herself, of course, and one for me. With her silver tongue we'd slip into the party as 'old friends', nobility that he'd be unlikely to turn away. We needed to look the part.
"There you are!" Antoinetta tittered like one of the spring sparrows outside, giggling and gesturing for us to follow behind her. "Ocheeva gave us permission to have the bathing room to ourselves for a bit. Let's get all prettied up, shall we, ladies?"
In too short a time the room was fragrant with bathwater and oils, steam and lilac. We acted as handmaids to each other, brushing hair, buffing nails, tying laces and teasing as only sisters could. A chance to breathe, to pretend everything was fine before…
To pretend.
For now I held Anya's damp locks in hand, combing them silky smooth where she sat in her chemise. A gentle chuckle.
"Just like old times, hm? When we'd have important guests, or possible suitors. Remember the Abalore twins?"
"Yes." She snickered at my deadpan, tilting her head so I could reach better. Soon her caramel curls were mostly dry and perfectly smooth, cascading down her back in a wave. "Slimy little shits with those ugly little wisps they called moustaches. They were so proud of them."
"And do you also remember the time you dyed their moustaches green?"
Antoinetta gasped behind me, then burst into a fit of giggles before returning to her focus on the bronzed mirror, painting her lips and smacking them together. I let myself grin for a moment, let myself enjoy the distraction from what lay ahead. "Well, they shouldn't have left the wax unguarded. Good times."
"Poor papa nearly had a heart attack."
Not the papa I knew, but stepfather. And yet, the thought of him no longer made me angry, even knowing what he'd done. Even knowing it was his request that made maman do the unthinkable.
Would I be any better?
"How is Toltette?"
"… Not well. Since maman told him everything, he hasn't been the same. Phillippe and I have been taking over much of his work, so he can rest, but the way he looks – I honestly don't expect him to recover."
Nothing. No satisfaction, no grief. Just a flicker of pity and worry for Anya, who would inherit the land, the manor and all the responsibilities the House Name would bring. I let her hair go and stood back, biting down on a sigh. "… I'm sorry – "
"There!" Antoinetta interrupted, whirling to sashay over with a beam and a flutter of her lashes. "How do I look, ladies? Not too much lip stain?"
I hadn't the faintest clue where she'd found it, but she did look lovely in her dress. All aglow in rose and coral, golden curls bouncing. In spite of myself, I smiled. "You look lovely."
"You're damned right I do." A wink. "Alright – Anya, why don't you dress and I'll get a start on taming what this one calls hair – "
"Hey!"
Soon enough it was only me still in my chemise, Anya elegant in soft violet lined with gold. I bit my tongue for a moment, dreading opening the lacy abomination I'd be forced into like I had as a girl. Ugh. Probably puffed sleeves and corsets and entirely too much pink –
But what I pulled from the package wasn't pink, but the gentlest of ocean blues. No lace in sight, only smooth, heavy-sliding silk spilling into my palms, hems lined with silver. My breath caught.
"Anya…"
"A little more grown up than the old ones you used to have to wear, hm?"
A low neckline baring my collarbone, pretty sleeves that ended at the crook of my arms in draping curves. No tulle, no bows. Not pretty but elegant, framing my shape. Antoinetta stepped forward as I smoothed it down, her giving a little sigh of appreciation. I gawked at Anya.
"This must have cost you a fortune."
"Exactly. So don't you dare wear it while making your potions." Quick as a whip and dry as a bone her reply. "Pestlehumper."
Netta snickered as I rolled my eyes. "I thought we were supposed to be noble ladies."
"I'm your sister, first. Hence, I reserve the right to pick on you."
"Me and everyone, you slavedriver. I bet your poor husband is relieved you're gone."
"At least I have a husband."
"Control freak."
"Spinster."
"Sithis, you two are worse than my Sisters!"
"Only out of love." A moment of warmth as Anya grinned back at me, then stood. "Which reminds me – there's one more thing." Netta and I both watched with a frown as she pulled a little box out from her travel chest, giving me a wicked smirk. "Close your eyes."
"I do not trust you."
"Don't be like that, sister dearest. Antoinetta?"
"I – " I scoffed as her hands came over my eyes, but didn't fight. The soft padding of her silk shoes against the stone floor, a shiver down my back at sudden cold tracing around my neck. A gasp and Netta's hands moved away, letting me look down and stare.
Delicate, tiny silver and jewels in little more than a thread, circled around my throat and then falling in a line down my chest, studded with sapphires. Beautiful and fine and entirely too elegant for my scrawny neck. I fingered the draping jewels down to my neckline, letting out a shivering sigh.
"Anya, it's beautiful. Where did you…?"
"I brought it from High Rock." Her arms fell away now with the necklace linked, Antoinetta moving to busy herself with her final touches. "I had it made ages ago, actually."
"Why?" I swallowed hard, intensely aware of it now resting cool against bare skin.
"Well, when you had that man in your life, at the University? The Dunmer?" The memory seemed so far away, replaced now with visions of him that final night together - standing above me with the bloodied dagger, cutting the ropes with the same blade, fleeing the burning barn on horseback. "The way you wrote about him - I thought for sure you were finally going to get married, so I had it commissioned for an engagement gift, for when he popped the question. I was going to visit, to start – gently reminding you to hint at marriage, but then…"
She didn't need to continue. I knew what she meant. Then, Bolor vanished. I vanished. Then, everything I thought I knew.
"… Things didn't work out that way. But that doesn't mean it's going badly." A sigh and she stepped away, surveying her work, surveying me. "You've made it this far. You've got a little shop, a lovely home, a handsome man in spite of yourself." A flicker of a smirk. "Despite everything, you're here. Like maman used to say. Sometimes, you just…"
"…Make the best of it," I finished, my throat tight. "It's beautiful." I traced along the finespun chain, managing a smile for her. "I'd – I'll wear it. If I ever do get married, I mean."
"You had better, because – and I say this only with love – I will literally strangle you with it if you don't."
We hugged tight enough to hurt for a long moment. Antoinetta interrupted, practically waving her arms as she pranced about, chittering like a sparrow on a twig.
"Alright, this is all very lovely, can we go now. We've got to get to work, and besides there's going to be candied ginger and chocolate strawberries and they're going to be all gone by the time we get there if we don't go now!"
A fond, rueful little smile at Antoinetta and Anya turned back to me, brow lowered. "… Are you ready?"
No. I would never be ready, not for what I was about to do. But I had to be – I had to try and make the best of it. It was this, or face the wrath of the Night Mother. Face my mother. No, I couldn't bear the thought. I had to do this, one way or another, ready or not. I took the vial from my bag and slid it into my bodice, hidden from sight, and nodded.
The three of us made our way to the upper district just as the sun began to set, casting long shadows from the tall timber rooves and dyeing white walls shades of peach. I rarely came to this part of the city, belonging to the rich and well-bred of Cheydinhal. Not since that night, with…
A glance at the tavern, the painted girl on The Maiden's Whimsy's sign seeming to dance as it swung in the wind. A tight swallow and I turned my gaze away, back to the path ahead even as I dreaded what awaited. It seemed much too soon that Antoinetta called us to a halt, nodding up to the estate called Riverview.
It was named right, at least. Near the chattering, burbling river it sat, up foreboding dark stairs and towards towering doubledoors, an Orc standing cross-armed before them.
"Leave it to me." Delicately as a cloud, almost floating on her feet Anya made way before us up the stairs, lifting her skirts and giving the doorman a curtsy. "Good evening. I had heard that dear Voranil is having another one of his get-togethers, tonight?"
"That's right." He cast his eyes over us, brow sinking low. "… Eh. I'm sorry, ma'am, I've never seen you 'fore. I don't think yer on the list – can't let you in."
"The list?" Anya blinked, then gave a silvery laugh. I could only marvel at her acting, the grace with which she carried herself. "Poor Voranil – had to start taking names so he could keep out the riff-raff, hm? Everyone wants in, of course, but I'm sure you know that only a few are truly – well, it would be rude of me to say worthy, but I can think of no other term."
"Look, ma'am, you – "
"Of course…" Her lashes cast, voice firming into something soft as the silk of my gown, but strong as steel. "You know better than to mistake myself and my companions for riff-raff, don't you? Voranil did always hire good help. My father used to work with him closely, you see, and I visited often as a girl. It will be wonderful to see him again."
I bit my tongue to keep from wincing for the Orc – a servant, I had to assume. "… I don't mean t'offend, ma'am, but I still can't – "
"I don't understand. Do you mean to tell me you're not going to allow me in? As though myself and my friends are some sort of common rabble, to be barred?"
"I'm sorry, but – "
"After years of friendship, you would have me sent away? Why, I haven't seen Voranil since my father's funeral, and I insist on seeing him now."
"But – "
Her chin lifted, a glint in her eyes. "That is quite enough, I'm afraid. I have the great displeasure of telling you I have never been treated in such a horrendousmanner. Now, you're not going to delay us any further, are you? We'll catch a chill out here, with night settling, and I have a lucrative investment proposal for dear Voranil besides. He's certain to be – quite upset if he hears you've driven something like that away."
Something changed in his face at the thought of the Altmer being upset with him. A few moments' thought and he grunted, stepping aside. I released a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. "Go on in."
Biting back that flicker of guilt, I ascended the stairs behind Antoinetta and Anya, avoiding his gaze, and entered the party.
Stepping in there, lifting the hem of my gown, felt like stepping into the parties of years ago. When I'd be scrubbed and powdered, stuffed into a dress and shoved out for wealthy friends of my stepfather and would-be-suitors to fawn over. Immediately I was uncomfortable, feeling awkward and graceless beside my sister and Antoinetta. They blended in almost immediately – Netta with wide smiles and batting lashes, hovering over a lavish buffet table, Anya approaching an Altmer milling around at the back of the room. Our target.
"Voranil! Oh, it's been too long. How are you?"
He stiffened immediately, and for a moment I feared we'd been found out. "Do I know you?"
That laugh again, chiming and graceful. "Well, perhaps not as I am now. But you did, yes – I'm sure you recall? My father, Tomas Guillard, the Marquis of Jehenna? You knew me when I was younger, accompanying him on business trips."
At the word Marquis he softened, inclining his head, nodding slowly. We had gone over the plan once more before leaving, and Anya comforted me with the knowledge that his mind and memory were so ravaged by skooma, he'd never know the difference – and that he was eager to associate with anyone of high standing. "Why – yes, yes, of course I do. And what brings you here, miss – oh, forgive me…"
"Please, call me Evyssa. Why, I was visiting some dear friends and simply had to attend when I heard you still put together such lovely affairs. You always did have good taste. That, and I wanted to see if you might be interested in an investment opportunity. We'd offer it to no one else, you see – it was one of my father's requests on his death bed that I seek you out, so our partnership might continue. Let me fill you in…"
I stopped listening after that, instead making my way to the quieter part of the room. We had some time to kill – only during the afterparty would the skooma come out, giving us our chance. For now, we could 'relax and mingle.' Perk of the job, Antoinetta had said. Wine was a bad idea, but I hovered for a moment over the buffet. Not only candied fruits and strawberries but steaming rolls, crisp duck, glazed ham and crisply roasted vegetables – in any other context I would have enjoyed it, even just the sight of such a colourful spread. As it was, I had to force myself to pluck a strawberry, chewing it slowly.
I recognized some faces in the room – a High Elf from the Fighters' Guild who had once come by for potions, a few upper-class residents I'd seen in the city, even the count and his escorts, though no sign of his son. Anya and Antoinetta blended as easy and sweet as sugar into water, while I felt like oil. I didn't fit, and I feared it was painfully obvious. My gaze strayed to the side of the room, where two more Altmer spoke – one I knew. The Alchemist of the Mages Guild Chapter here, a soft-spoken woman who had come by for ingredients and advice from time to time. That, at least, I knew. I gravitated towards them, giving what I hoped was a polite smile rather than an awkward grimace.
"H-Hello, Eilonwy. How are you?"
"Oh!" She blinked in surprise, tilting her head and shifting her wine from one hand to the other. The man she was with similarly glanced over me, a slight frown furrowing his brow. "Hello. Have we me – oh, yes, I do remember. You run 'The Dusty Cauldron', do you not?"
Anya too had scoffed and teased at the name, but I still felt a little glimmer of pride when I heard it spoken. "That's right. You bought ground nirnroot and acacia seeds last I saw you, if I remember right."
"Yes, you do. My goodness, you must have quite the understanding of your stock." Her smile softened, as did the expression of the man beside her. "I'm well. Forgive my surprise – I didn't expect to see you here. Voranil's quite picky with who he allows in." A blink and she stiffened in alarm. "Not that I believe you shouldn't be here, or you don't belong – oh, gods, forgive me, I've misspoken."
"It's alright!" If anything I was comforted by her pleasant awkwardness, knowing I wasn't alone. The man with her chuckled and gently placed a hand on her back, comforting. "I don't seem the type, do I? But, um – my sister has some connections with Voranil's family, you see."
"How lovely. And what a beautiful necklace." My finger rested on the dangling thread of it, both embarrassed and proud.
"Are you going to introduce me, Eilonwy?"
"Of course, of course." She laughed gently behind her hand, shaking her head. "This is my love, Orintur. Orintur, this is the city alchemist I mentioned."
"Ah, yes." He bowed his head approvingly. "A pleasure, I'm sure. It's rare for us not to mutually know someone."
Eilonwy interjected. "We spend much of our time together, in the High Elf way. We share everything – our time, our work, our lives and our friends."
"That's…" I observed their closeness for a moment, swallowing back a flicker of – something. Longing, jealousy, scorn? They were so obviously, completely in love, even in the small motions they made to each other, the way they stood. Perhaps a little much, and yet part of me couldn't help but crave it. The gentleness of a hand on my own back, a look of affection, a kiss on my brow. "That's wonderful. I'm – it's good you've found happiness, with each other."
My thoughts moved to Lucien. Did he make me happy? Did I, him? We seemed to aggravate each other, more than anything else. There were moments of tenderness, but they were overwhelmed by something sharper and darker, less the warmth of a hearth and more the rage of a wildfire. Passionate, all-consuming, painful. Even as my anger burned still at being used, I...
Seeing them so close, so very in love, I missed him.
"Oh, we have. I can't imagine anything else." Eilonwy gazed up at him for a moment. They shared a look, then gentle laughter while clinking their glasses. "Besides, I wouldn't know nearly what I do without my beloved teaching me. We're both part of the Mages Guild, of course. I'm surprised I've never seen you there. With what I've seen of your potions, you'd fit in beautifully."
I felt a little warmth rise in my cheeks. "Thank you. I – well, I've been rather busy with setting up shop and everything, these past months, but I've been considering joining."
"We'll look forward to seeing you there."
The conversation turned to our crafts – mine and Eilonwy's of alchemy, Orintur's of Alteration, which I'd dabbled in often. It was all too easy to sink into the discussion, the love of our pursuits. Pushing aside what I'd be using my craft for all too soon, as best I could. Time flowed as easily as the wine until the more reputable guests began to file out, citing the late hour, thanking their host. In time it was only one or two nobles, the Orum gang, Antoinetta, Anya and myself left.
I sidled closer to the buffet table, nearly picked clean, listening as the host spoke to Anya. "… Ah, Miss Evyssa? Will you and your companions be staying, so late?"
"Well, of course, if you'll have us." Another delicate laugh behind her hand. She lowered her voice, just soft enough I could barely catch her words. "That was a lovely affair, but now the true party starts, hm? Don't worry, my friend, I have no qualms about you relaxing, now. With all the stress you must put up with…"
His smile curled at the edges of his lips, smug, sinister. "Quite right. Well then!" He gestured sharply at a Dunmer servant, who stiffened. "What are you staring at, you little cow? Don't keep us waiting. Go fetch it!"
Two of the Orcs snickered. Everyone now gravitated towards tables – I followed, sitting near Voranil and Anya as Antoinetta moved to join some of the others. If she caused a distraction soon, all eyes would be on her – away from Voranil, away from me.
The sweetness of the strawberry came up bitter. I swallowed it back down, fists clenched under the table.
Before long cards and dice came out – gambling, deemed illegal and heavily fined by the Court. I didn't have the slightest clue as to what I was doing, of course. I just clutched my cards white-handed and tried not to draw attention to myself.
"Sir?" The Dunmer woman from before returned. She held a silver platter now, hosting several fine goblets. "The – ah, beverages, sir."
"About time." He gestured impatiently, although the annoyance fled as he addressed his guests once again. "Our drink is made from only the finest distilled moonsugar – you are all welcome to participate in enjoying it, with thanks to our dear Orcish friends for supplying it." A little wave of laughter. When the tray passed me I politely shook my head – after my experiences with the honey, I'd had more than enough hallucinations. Antoinetta accepted, though, as did Anya. They'd be far more skilled at discreetly pouring it elsewhere.
"Enjoy, my friends." A toothy smile. This was it – sooner or later Antoinetta would begin her distraction, and I…
I couldn't bear to think of it. No, I just had to do it. Simple as that. Like poisoning a rat.
The clock tolled midnight.