The answer to how quickly I could be taught, was how quickly I could learn. Not quick enough, not nearly, for my tastes, but the urgency helped. We stayed in the ruin much of that day, him summoning constructs for me to practice on as Bolor once did.

It was – difficult. My spells had always focused on suggestion, flexibility. Alteration and restoration – to coax the body's natural processes to increase, or to hint that the thin surface of a pond might support my weight. To turn undead was a force of will, not a request, but a demand.

But it was time I learned when to make my demands. To change, to be adaptable was a skill I'd long since mastered. But to stand my ground…

What had Lucien said, when I told him I would try to live my life as I saw fit? 'Even in the face of death, you would refuse to bend.' Then, he'd seemed almost proud.

I wished I believed he would be, now.

Next, came preparations. Leaving the guild business to Astarill and returning home, home to the place I'd tried so hard to make my own. Maman's words rung in me – "You'll make this empty little house a beautiful home, just by being you."

By being me. This place was as mine as anything I'd known, these past months – and yet it, too, was prey to the demands of the Brotherhood. I'd make a life here, someday. I knew that with certainty even as I closed the shutters, stored away what I could, packed to leave it behind. Someday, when I returned, this place would be home to me again.

But I couldn't own anything, not truly, until I owned myself.

It was late afternoon by the time my preparations were made, when I could delay it no longer. Blue would meet me at the city gates, tonight. There was nothing standing between me, and freedom. Nothing, except…

A whimper. Luke thudded his flank against me, staring up with big, mournful eyes. A flicker of regret, but I reached down and scratched behind his ears, whispering more to myself than him.

"Let's go visit Netta, huh, boy?"

The Sanctuary greeted me the same as it always had – cool and silent, painfully still, this place I knew as a dungeon and they knew as home. So many memories swam around me, here, so many tangled emotions of fear and hurt and love. Healing Teinaava as Ocheeva watched, wringing her hands. Mushroom stew and fresh bread, a meal shared with family. Antoinetta and I playing, dancing, sending nuts and dried fruit scattering across the kitchen floor…

My first kiss with Lucien, wine-stained and bleary. The blood and soot stained hand he'd held before me, voice rough and burning.

"This is what I am."

The flare of pain and resentment fueled me, made me walk tall and proud. This is what I am.

"Dust." It was Vicente who found me first, waiting in the common room as though he'd known I was coming. "Is something the matter?"

"I'm willing to face the consequences."

A moment of confusion on his features before clarity broke through, eyes alight, a paper-smooth sigh whispering past his lips. He moved to me, searched my gaze as though he, too, was blessed with vision into my mind's eye, to the need burning in me."… You are certain?"

"Yes." No hesitation. Oh, there was fear, there was guilt, but no hesitation. I couldn't afford it any longer.

"… We should speak with Ocheeva."

Like any family, they seemed to congregate to tension. Soon they were gathered – not only Ocheeva but the rest of the Family, too, looking on with amusement, disdain, concern. I slid my eyes from Antoinetta's to the Speaker's and, though my heart hammered in my chest, I managed to keep my voice steady.

"I'm leaving Cheydinhal."

"Leaving?" Antoinetta and Telaendril echoed me both at once, Netta in a squeak, Telaendril a scoff. Ocheeva's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"I don't know how long I'll be gone. I wholly intend to return."

"Leaving where?" Teinaava spoke, seeming more curious than angry, but the Speaker cut him off.

"Have you forgotten your place here? The tithe you bound your blood to, that you owe us your life?"

"I haven't forgotten." Somehow I managed not to shrink, not to cower, even at the cold fury in her voice. "As I said, I intend to return, and I accept that – that I might not come back unscathed. I know the consequences of breaking the Tenets."

"Do you?" Laughter, disbelieving mockery in her voice as she stepped closer to loom. "And you would risk death for your disobedience? Out of spite?"

My own anger flared, carefully tempered into a small smile. "Yes."

"Then you're a fool, and you'll die the death of one."

"Dusty – " At last Netta spoke, and for a moment I hesitated. The hurt in her eyes, the betrayal – but I wasn't betraying her, even if she felt I was. I didn't do this to hurt her. "Don't you understand? The wraith will come for you. Your…"

"I know." My words were softer now, tears blinked back. "I know. But if it means I can go live my life, on my terms, even just for a while – it's worth it. It's worth the risk."

"Don't you want to be with us?" She whined now, stepping closer as Telaendril stalked off with a sound of disgust. "I know you can't be one of us, but – "

"I love you, Antoinetta, I do." We reached for each other at the same time, hugging as tight as only sisters could. "But I need to do this for myself. Even with the risks. Even if it hurts."

"I could chain you up in the kitchen." She mumbled into my shoulder, petulant, leaving me laughing against her hair.

"But you still wouldn't have me, not the real me. How can we dance together if I'm all in chains?" I sucked in a breath, steeling myself against her tears as she peeled herself away. "… Will you take care of Luke for me? He loves you, so much."

"Well, you're not giving me much bloody choice, are you?" An indignant whine, but it filled me with relief. She wouldn't hold me down. She might resent me, might be hurt, but she wouldn't keep me prisoner with her love.

"You're mad." The Khajiit had no patience for our antics and rolled his eyes, stalking off after Telaendril. Teinaava remained, however, a lopsided smirk on his snout.

"You're mad, but you're amusing. I shall be very interested to see if you indeed return alive."

"Or if the Listener will even let you leave." Ocheeva's lip curled. "I will inform him of your betrayal, and – "

"No." A dead silence. I braced myself for the thought, to bring it to life, to set word to deed. "… I'll tell him myself."

"He is at the Fort now, I believe." I bit my lip as the vampire spoke, gentle, cautious. Did he regret telling me I had the choice? Did he regret telling me the risk was mine to take? A little grunt out of him as we collided, as I wrapped my arms around him tight.

"Thank you, Vicente. For everything."

"You are your mother's daughter." He murmured against me, slowly embracing me in turn. "But you are much more than that."

More than mother, more than mine. And I would be more than what she had left me, more than what she wished for me.

"I should – I should go." I wiped hurriedly at my eyes, catching my breath as I met the eyes of this Family I'd inherited, this Family I'd come to love. "I'm leaving tonight. There isn't much time."

"You do not do this lightly, I know. You have accepted the risks." A dip of Vicente's head. "… But be careful."

"Come back." Antoinetta glowered through red-rimmed eyes. "Come back, or I will be so angry with you, you don't even know." Luke whimpered at her feet, licking my hand as I gave him a fond scratch under the chin. Good boy.

Ocheeva seemed to grit her teeth, gaze searching over the three of us before settling on me at last, scathing. "… You will face the consequences of your actions. I only hope you're as ready as you think you are."

"Yes." I kissed Luke on his cold nose and stood, glancing behind me to the well exit, and beyond. To the hill, to the fort, to consequences. "I hope so, too."

The sun bled and stained the sky as evening fell, making the crumbling towers of the fort all the more ominous in how they loomed. Climbing up that hill, sweat trickling down my nape, memories flooded in. That first time I made the trek, soaking wet and terrified for maman. That beautiful, frozen night we'd played in the snow. The spring's sweet air under the stars, wondering how we could possibly make it work…

Fearing, knowing, that we couldn't. Perhaps knowing, somewhere inside, that it would come down to this.

I didn't enter through the secret passage. That felt – wrong, somehow, for the intent I held. I made my way through the front doors, yawning open to belch dust and stale air, using my light spell to watch for traps. Though the guardians roamed, they seemed to know me, passing me by like I was nothing but an awaited guest.

It didn't take long. I knew I was getting close from the change in light, the scent of woodsmoke. I hesitated in the shadows, letting my spell fade, dread welling up hot in my belly.

There was no turning back.

A creak. I turned to find one of the skeletal constructs watching me. A spark of thought – I concentrated, furrowing my brow and summoning up the spell I'd tried so desperately to learn today, sending it to furl around those yellowed bones.

It stiffened, hissed, but didn't move. An ivory fire danced along its frame, spiking and flaring in time with my thoughts, fighting the will of the construct to follow its duty, to stay in place.

It's you or me. And I'm not going to bend.

A screech. The spell seemed to burst, brighter, fiercer, peaking and leaving me both at once in a rush as it took hold, as at last the creature turned stiffly around and began to flee. It worked – I can do this, it worked, it could work –

"Is there a reason you are tormenting my guardians?"

I froze. His silhouette stood at the end of the hall, casting a long shadow pointed like the arrow of a compass towards me through the pool of light.

This is what I am. And I will not bend.

"Lucien." I forced myself at last to approach, bridging the gap between shadow and light. His expression calm, a brow raised, he greeted me as though nothing had changed at all. It – it infuriated me. And yet…

No. I scolded myself, forced myself to stand tall. You know what you have to do.

"I'm leaving."

The air in the room went still, winter-cold. His features hardened, eyes coming alight. There was no need to clarify – he knew exactly what I meant. "Leaving."

"I'm sorry to force your hand." In contrast to his whip-like hiss, I whispered. "I know the consequences."

A disbelieving laugh, little more than a gust of air. "The consequences?" The sound shattered now like ice, so cold, so sharp as he chuckled mirthlessly. "You have no idea. You naive, spiteful little fool."

"I told you I was going to be myself, regardless of what you want." My voice cracked, too, breaking like a wave on the shore. "I told you my life wasn't worth living if it wasn't mine – "

"And you're truly ready to die for that?" I had seen this anger once before, months ago in the swamps of Leyawiin. He lurched towards me – it took all my strength not to flinch, not to step away. "On some childish whim?"

"Yes." It left me with such certainty, such harshness it almost hurt, forced out from the tips of my fingers, curling into my palms. "If that's what it takes, then yes. It's worth it. I don't want to hurt you, and I don't want to die, but it's worth it."

"And why should I let you walk out of here?" His voice dropped low, caustic. "You expect me to let you betray everything I serve, everything I stand for, to let you go?"

Somehow I found the words, willing them up from somewhere deep inside me. "… No." Somehow, I didn't scream, didn't falter, didn't break. "I expect you to do what you have to do. And I'll do the same."

I turned then, turned and hoped to leave it there before it could hurt even worse, but his hand caught my forearm, cinching tight enough to bruise as he spat. "I am trying to save you from your own idiotic mistakes – "

"I embrace my mistakes!" I whirled on him, jerking back, snarling as he had with tears falling free now. Harsh, anguished, each syllable thudding out in time with my heartbeat hammering against my ribs. "I would sooner make a thousand mistakes than live a lie, so long as they're mine to make!"

"I have sheltered you, time and time again, I have spared you from Her wrath, but I cannot continue to – "

We both fell silent, his words trailing off. I stared, a cold trickle down the back of my spine.

"… To what, Lucien?"

He sheltered me. Spared me. The meaning sunk in, stopping my breath short. Her wrath – her wraith. To break the tenets was to summon it, but hadn't I disrespected, disobeyed? And yet, nothing had come. "I cannot promise I will stay my hand."

"The wraith – maman." My throat went tight, strained with tears. "She answers to you."

He straightened. The silence suffocated, somehow heavier still when he spoke. "If you flee, I will have no choice left."

"I know." A grimace of a smile stretched my lips, bittersweet. "But what choice have you left me?"

He turned from me, striding, as though I hadn't, spoken to the flickering fireplace, our shadows melding and dancing in streaks across the floor. For a few moments, the only sound was the crackle of the hearth, and my shuddering breaths. "Why let me walk away, then?" I dared a step closer. "Why not cut me down, here and now?"

His shoulders rose, set. His eyes, even staring into the fire, didn't catch the light. They never shifted, even as he murmured. "Do you believe I wouldn't?"

I held my breath. His dagger slid free, gleaming.

I don't remember which of us closed the distance – perhaps we moved together, as one. But the sensation of that ebony blade, the twin of my mother's, grazing the soft skin of my throat – that, I remember. He didn't flinch, not even as I reached to wrap my hands around his on the handle, still pointed towards me.

I guided it lower, the tip kissing just above my heart, and met his gaze.

It felt like an eternity. That dimpling pressure against my breast, the flickering shadows, the heat and slowness between us, as though we were embracing. I felt his hand tense under mine, felt his grip shift. The air went breathless.

Somehow it was only when he let the blade fall that I winced, when his fingertips just barely grazed my cheek.

"You are the daughter of a Sister I loved, who begged me to protect you." A lurch of grief, drowned as he continued. "You saved my life, at the risk of your own. I will do you, and her memory, this one kindness. This one sliver of a chance at freedom."

I gasped for breath I hadn't realized I'd held when he at last moved away, seeming to glide to the fire, staring in once again. "You will not survive. But if you do – then you will run, Dust." A warning edge to his voice. "And you will never return."

"You're wrong."

A deep inhale. His chin lifted, but he didn't turn to face me. "Know this." The way he spoke – this was how he addressed his Family. This was the voice of the Speaker made Listener, the command that sent souls to the void. This was the man who would have slit my throat without qualm, that very first night we met. "You would break a tenet. Walk beyond the gates of Cheydinhal, and the Wrath of Sithis will follow you. You will be exiled, banished from our halls, until you face and defeat the wraith."

"That's what I'll do." It had to be true, it had to be – I had to believe it, or I'd never set foot outside this place again. "I'll face her, defeat her, and win my freedom. And I'll come back, Lucien. When I've lived my life for me, when I've done what I need to do, I'll come back."

His laughter was achingly gentle, simple words laden with meaning. "No." A pause. "You won't."

Did he believe I lied? That I'd run for good, never to return here? Or did he believe I truly stood no chance, that the wraith – maman - would bring my death?

Silence fell on us again, weighted like the heavy air of a tomb, his gaze never returning to mine. Then, whisper-soft, he broke my heart.

"It was a pleasant dream, while it lasted."

I stumbled out. Stumbled, half-blind with tears and heartbreak and rage, down the hill of the fort, to the stables, sucking back sobs until at last I found Blue there in the dark. He paused beside the twin horses, turning to me with a questioning stare.

A whimper crested, broke into a sob. I moved to muffle myself, but his hands were quicker, capturing either side of my face and startling me into silence.

"Sometimes, the chains we bear will not be broken." Harsh and low he spoke, as though imparting on me some great, terrible secret. "Sometimes, we must cut off the ensnared limb."

In silence we readied the horses, threw on our sparse belongings. In silence, we rode to the city gates, and beyond.

In silence, I looked back behind me, watched until the towers of the fort shrunk, then vanished into the black sky of the night.