"The things you guild-folk get into, I'll never understand."

Ow. My first conscious thought was that single syllable, a full-body wince as I came back into myself, almost wishing I hadn't. Everything hurt – ached or stung or seared, from my face, down my arms, to my chest and back. Even my toes seemed to burn, making me groan as I gave them a tentative curl and opened my eyes.

A yellowish light, soft and warm. The blankets on me, too, slipping down as I shifted. A face, swimming into view.

"… Blue?"

"Your colleague is here." No, a woman. An Argonian woman, holding a little bowl and dipping a clean linen in, then reaching for my face. "Hold still, now."

"What…" I flinched at the astringent sting of whatever was on the cloth against my cheek. "What happened?"

"We were at the Ayleid ruin, nearby, when we were attacked by spirits." Blue's curt hiss – I lolled my head on the pillow to see him seated against the wall, arms crossed. "You were injured. I took you back here."

"And it's a good thing he did. I said, hold still." A disapproving cluck of her tongue as she moved now to my neck, wiping the cloth again before smoothing on a bandage. My arms crinkled as I moved – more bandages, covering the wounds where the wraith's claws had raked through. "My name is Marz. You're at the Chapel of Mara, in Bravil."

Slowly, I let it all catch up. The wraith – maman. A bittersweet warmth at the thought of her. The punishment I'd endured, the realization

A gasp. I jerked upright only for Marz to glare and lead me back down, sniffing. "No sense, you mages. Delving into ancient ruins haunted by Mara-knows-what, probably for nothing but dusty old artifacts…"

He must have lied, given us a plausible cover and a reason for my injuries, but I couldn't sit still, not now! "Blue…" My voice was a croak. I swallowed hard, then gratefully accepted a cup of water, glugging it down before continuing. "We need to go back home."

"Yes. There's no point in remaining here now." Still angry, deeply bitter about the loss of his path – our path to the Isles. But I could only beam.

"It's not over yet."

"It is for you, missy. Up now, I should change the bandages on your back. Then we can do another session of healing, see if we can get the bigger wounds to close, stave off the frostbite…"

She had a point. I truly was a mess. I'd never seen my own body this scarred – the battle with the traitor, the beating Magub gave me, even Oblivion, I'd come through relatively unscathed. Not this time. The talons had torn through my arms as I'd tried to cast the spell, down my face when I'd tried to speak it, around my throat as though to strangle me into silence. Though Marz reassured me that with her treatment most of my scars would vanish in time, I could see the two deepest – one small, but dangerously deep on my throat, the other a gash above my navel – would be lifelong reminders.

But I was alive. Almost giddy with that simple fact, and the fact that I could live my life as I saw fit. That I would, because I knew how.

How had it been so simple, all along?

Waiting seemed an almost impossible task – a full week of bedrest, of Blue reading and pacing in acrid silence, of Marz praying over me between sessions of healing and bandage changes. Harder still the long journey back, wincing at every jolt of the saddle and plodding along the cobble roads, praying each day would pass faster than the one before. Few words passed between us – I wasn't ready to tell Blue my plan, not yet. But I held it close in my heart, even as we parted, even as I made way for the city gates, for familiar Cheydinhal.

For the Sanctuary.

I didn't have to go back. I knew that. I'd said my goodbyes - I'd made my decision clear. I would leave, and return when I was ready. To return only to leave again…

But I wanted to prove it to them. That I could leave, survive and return, all on my own. Maybe it wouldn't be enough. Maybe they'd want to stop me, hold me back again even after I'd proven my word. But now I knew it didn't matter if they did. One way or another, I could be free, if I chose. If they loved me like I did them, they'd understand. And if not…

It would hurt, if not. It would hurt terribly. But I could stand on my own two feet, as long as I could bear to try and love myself.

Luke was the first to greet me. He was waiting past the black door – of course, he would be. He, of anyone, would know. A delighted dance around me as he yipped, tongue lolling, rubbing against my hips and dashing away only to come back for more.

"Luke – Lukey! – "

"You're alive?"

M'raaj-Dar, blinking at me with an armful of books to his chest. I took a breath to speak, but already others were coming to investigate the commotion. A familiar blonde head peaked through the door, eyes wide, then she ran towards me with a shriek of delight.

"Dusty!"

"Netta – "

"You're alive!" I laughed through tears as she hugged me, only letting go at the hiss of pain between my teeth. "You're – oh! Sorry, sorry – but you're here, we thought, I thought you'd – but you – "

"I'm here." I hugged her back more gently, fighting to keep my balance between her and Luke whining and tugging at my sleeves for more attention. "I'm okay."

The door creaked again. All four of our heads swiveled to see Vicente and Ocheeva at the door. A glance between them – without a word the Speaker vanished once more with M'raaj-Dar in her wake, leaving Vicente to approach, calm and silent.

Antoinetta and I parted. His expression didn't flicker, neutral even as he reached gently for my face and traced the divet of a still-healing scar. Then, a tiny smile.

"You faced her, and survived."

A whisper. "Yes."

He laughed softly, shaking his head, letting his hand fall away. "It is good to see you well." In more ways than one, I knew what he meant – smiling, whole, both body and spirit. More somber, then, the tilt of his head. "I hope it was worth it."

"It was." More than I could ever explain. "… I need to leave, again. Soon."

"Again?" Netta blinked, confusion, then hurt watery in her eyes. "Dusty – "

A soft sigh from Vicente, but no protests. He only looked over me, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "You've come only to say your goodbyes, once more."

I nodded, a flicker of warmth and affection in me, tempered by pain. It couldn't not hurt, this parting, but now it was driven not by resentment or rebellion, but understanding. "I - I owe you that much. All of you."

"Dusty..."

One last time, the door yawned open. Ocheeva first, then…

For the first time since I'd left Bravil, I felt a waver in my resolve. I swallowed hard, standing alone now as Antoinetta and Vicente moved back, allowing Lucien to approach.

He didn't speak, not yet. Dark eyes scanning me, lips pressed into a thin line and chin raised high until he turned, addressing me over his shoulder.

"Come."

I followed, leaving the rest of the Family to watch in our wake. Out of the common room and into the halls, into his room, the only sounds our footsteps and the thud of the heavy door sealing us in.

For a moment, I feared I would break there. That all the determination I'd held would dissolve before his fury. But – no. It held fast, and so could I, standing tall even as his eyes turned on me again.

"You survived."

I resisted the urge to quip, instead managing a shaky smile. "Yes."

He broke our gaze. There was something there I hadn't expected – anger, yes, that I had disobeyed him. A degree of shock. But also relief, and even…

Maybe it was foolish hope, but I thought I saw a flicker of guilt.

"I did what I must, Dust, for the good of the Brotherhood. For my Family. I did my duty, as Listener. You will receive no apologies from me."

"I know." Another glimpse of surprise in the arch of his brow. Somehow, I could only laugh. "I could have stayed. I chose not to, and I dealt with the consequences. I told you. I embrace my mistakes, if they're mine to make."

His teeth bared in a silent snarl as he shook his head. "You're mad."

"And you're a murderer." It was mad but it felt somehow right, right to edge closer, to reach for his cheek and beam up at him. "Nobody's perfect."

"Dust…"

"I know you can't regret it, and neither can I. So, don't." I let my thumb trace over his jaw, to his lip tight with tension. "I'm going to leave again. I have to leave again, soon."

"Dust – "

"But I came back. Didn't I?" I pleaded now, murmuring and holding his gaze. What did he see? Surely, what I felt – it burned hot in me, so sure I could almost see the glow myself. "I will again. If you can – "

He kissed me. I gave into it wholly, hands sliding down to his chest, letting him guide and overtake with his fingers carding through my hair. Something near ferocity in the embrace, in the harsh press of his lips against mine, in the love I felt for this man…

No more words, not now. Not when there was heat and resentment, need and desperation all tangled at once. I would leave – with or without his approval, I would, time and time again. But for now…

If this was to be goodbye, even for a short time, I wanted to make it last.

I awoke in Lucien's arms as I had so many times before, knowing that everything had changed.

He was still asleep beside me, breathing deep, one arm draped around me as I roused into our shared warmth. A part of me didn't want to leave it. Warm here, safe here, loved here…

But not free, here. Not like this. The one thing I couldn't, wouldn't sacrifice, even for love.

A low rumble from him as I kissed his brow, pushed his hair back from his face and sat up, the bed creaking beneath me. A comforting, familiar sound to hear him rise behind me as I stood to dress and he did the same. A heavy silence, thick with anticipation for what needed to be said.

"Lucien."

His fingers slowed on the last button of his tunic, gaze questioning. I stepped closer and took over, clasping it as I mulled over my words.

"… I have to go."

His jaw set, the tension in his shoulders immediate. "Where? Why?"

"Somewhere I can – be myself. Somewhere free. And because I want to, so badly." I let go of his chest, taking a half-step back to meet his gaze. "You saw it, those weeks before I left."

A growl in his throat, brow furrowed. "I don't understand. Why now?"

"I can't – I can't put it in words but you've seen it, I know you have. And because if I don't now, I never will." Without hesitation I reached for him, the grizzle of his cheek against my palm. For once, the confused mess of feelings for him was gone – clarity reigned. I could love him and resent him, could need him and need to be free of him at the same time.

And he could accept that, or not. It was out of my hands. But I would try. Try to help him understand.

"Ever since I've known you, I've been bound. I don't want to cut those ties, not for good. But they're strangling me, Lucien. You said it yourself." I held his dark gaze to mine, pleading. "I want to explore, dance, learn, and I can't do any of that chained. I crave freedom. Do you still see it in me?"

A beat. I bit my tongue as he stared down, then closed his eyes. His shoulders rose, a frustrated sigh escaping. "Dust."

"Can you trust me?" His eyes snapped open again, black and fathomless. I searched them, staring hard even as my fingers tenderly grazed his cheek. "You protected me from the traitor. You saved me in Oblivion. But I saved you, too. I could have fled, but I came back to you. Because – because as much as I want to be free, I don't want to hurt you. I don't want to lose you, because I love you."

He turned away. I pressed on, determined even as tears fell freely now. "Can you let me go, and trust that I will come back?" I took his hand in mine and cupped it close, lips pressed against his knuckles. "Not as Listener, but as Lucien?"

Silence. When he spoke it was hoarse and cold as gravedust.

"They are one and the same."

My heart plummeted. Then, a bitter laugh, soft as his touch on my cheek, as gentle as his hold on me before he pulled away. A mirthless smile.

"Go."

"… Lucien?"

"Go." Bitter, bitter cold and hard, the dismissal. He avoided my gaze now, turning, head held high and jaw set. His hands white-knuckled, his profile straight and proud. "Before I change my mind."

A tingle through me, sweet and harsh at once down my back, making my breath catch. Still as a statue he stood even as I neared, standing on tiptoe to leave a final kiss.

"Thank you."

I didn't dare look back. Not as I left his room, still feeling the press of his lips against mine. Not as I slipped through the halls that early morning, seeking out someone for one last goodbye, kneeling on the floor and telling him to take care of them all as his tail wagged a groove in the stonework.

Not even as the Black Door shut behind me, as I swore I heard a whisper from behind.

My home, first. My beautiful little shop, my attempt to make the best of what I'd been given – I had no regrets about that. But now, it wasn't enough. I prepared as best I could – rations, a bedroll, fresh water. All the necessities of travel, and a book.

The Doors of Oblivion, clutched close to my chest as maman's words echoed inside me. Be whoever you are, be proud. Her voice resounded in me, a mantra with every footfall towards the ruin.

"I know how to get to the Isles."

It was like the others felt it from me – my sheer delight, a near frenzy among the cultists in whispers and stares as I held the book out to Blue. He arched a scaled brow, scoffing and pushing it away with a talon.

"We've lost our chance, morsel."

"But we haven't." I flipped it open, held it aloft to the right page as Blue's skeptical glare began to change. "It was so simple. I should have known, all along – it was right there, on the page."

His gaze flickered over it, reading the passage. "The simplest and most maddeningly complex way to go to Oblivion was simply to cease to be here, and to begin to be there. What are you saying?"

"There isn't a place, any more than madness is." I kicked off my boots, one after the other. "It's what you are, what you want to be. It's a state of mind."

Understanding echoed throughout the group, echoed in murmurs and laughter. Even Blue let a smile slither onto his features, yellow eyes slit.

"Tell us what you need. We will help you."

And they did, my wonderful family of misfits, they did. Bringing out the drums and instruments they used in their chants, offering their voices, energy spreading through us all like the build of static before a storm. Blue's skill with alteration in the water, my hands already thrumming with a beat inside and out…

It was time.

A murmur of a spell and I walked over the surface of the crystal clear water barefoot. Untethered, unrestrained. Nothing less would do. All around the pool my friends crowded, drums at their feet and in folded laps or carried in their hands, Blue before them raising up his hands as they began to sing.

It began as a low humming, a multitude of voices from all walks of life rising, almost a rumble. I felt the magicka around me, felt it twist and rise, as from the pool, columns of water did the same. Towering above me to collect and float in undulating, sparkling spheres, waiting, my own magicka cresting in my hands and throat.

A distant memory of a beating drum, little hands, flashes of light.

The crack of palms on taut hide. The water Blue raised scattered, exploding and showering in a downpour before streaming back up and down and up again, a cyclical torrent. Their singing rose higher, stronger, one voice made of many as a storm was made of each drop. I raised my hands and let it go, the first dancing streak of light across the storm we offered.

Whirling, spiraling in on itself. Their singing a cacophony and a melody, a harmonious dissonance that pierced through as the drums echoed and pealed, thunder to my lightning. And I danced. I danced like a child, a fool, a madman, letting the rain we'd made pelt down and soak me, laughing and singing along.

I lost myself to it, let go and found myself all at once. Breathless, arching my hands and sweeping my bare feet through the rippling water, stamping them to splash, singing so my throat ached and yet I could hardly hear myself over the thunder they made. Sheogorath's laughter, booming and deep, the arcs of my spell lightning and magic and flashes of golden eyes all at once.

Free.

Free of judgment and fear. Free of the love and pain that bound me, free of desire and expectation.

Damn all consequences, damn all the future might bring – because whatever it would be, it would be mine. My robe clinging to me like a second skin, my dance wild and unashamed, my voice high and clear with words I wasn't sure I even understood. But they were mine, my choice, my path. Their singing carried me higher, higher still until I wasn't in a ruin at all but flying, in those stormhead clouds roaring and emptying, those the Madgod called his own –

I was lurching into danger, into the unknown, into impossibility but for once of my own accord –

I was laughing and singing, dancing with lightning in my very hands –

I was free.

A light under my feet in the pool, almost blinding as their voices crested. Droplets danced and bounced across the surface beneath me and for a moment, just a moment, I made eye contact with her, the reflection below me soaked and delighted, inviting me forth…

I stepped through her, into her, into that light.

And I began to be there.


Final Thoughts

And we're there.

I post this chapter much later than I should, and already I've got tears in my eyes. Tears for a lot of reasons - because part of me doesn't want this to end, because part of me isn't ready. Because I'm beyond elated to bring Dust's story to - well, not a close, but to a place I've wanted to take her for so, so long. Because I'm grateful beyond words for the kindness, patience and enthusiasm you've all shown me and shared with me. It is really and truly beyond my understanding, and all I can do is stand in dumb awe and smile. Some of you have been new readers, and some remember my writing, and Dust, from a literal decade ago. I can't tell you how much that means to me, both that newcomers have found her interesting enough to hook onto, and the old-timers like myself remember and still come back, even after all these years, long beyond any reasonable patience.

You've given me your thoughts, feelings, jokes and laughter and hurt in all of this. You've given me advice, and encouragement, and most of all you've given Dust love. I have to admit, a fear in the back of my mind for a very long time was that people were here for the Dark Brotherhood, not for Dust. I could understand that, of course, and certainly some people must have been. But many of you - so many I'd never have believed it if you didn't say - came to care about Dust herself, as a person. About her story.

Of course, Dust's story doesn't end here. She'll go on more adventures; in fact, I have quite a lot of her life forthcoming planned out, from her experiences in other realms to the disastrous period of the fall of the Mages Guild, the Red Year, onwards still. I've written and roleplayed her for so long, after all, sometimes I practically feel she's looking over my shoulder, pouting as I write. I don't have an exact outline yet for what I want to write next, but, though it might take another ten years, I hope to embark on a new journey with her - and all of you - someday.

I want to give a special thanks to two people who were by my side during this project. Firstly, my editor, my fellow writer and most of all, my dear friend alcyonejonquil. Your patience is astounding, your skill a godsend, and your kindness inspiring. You helped me smooth out all the wrinkles, helped me work through my bad habits, acted as my soundboard and helped me feel out every strange twist and turn this story took from the moment I, quite impertinently, asked for your help. I can never repay you. I can only tell you how deeply grateful I am, and how much both Dust and I owe to you.

Second is my best friend, Astarill's creator. What can I say? From those days on MSN roleplaying, feeling out the lore, feeling out our writing styles and developing together,so much of what I've learned, I've learned from you. I've learned how to write a character who is engaged with the world, facing challenges, dynamic and alive. I've learned how to be concise, but meaningful, as your writing is. And most of all, it was with you I learned the absolute joy of writing and living a story like this in roleplay and sharing this world with you. Thank you, again and again, for letting me borrow Astarill for this. Thank you for the friendship he and Dust have, and thank you for the friendship you have given me.

And to all of you readers, new or old, thank you. Every comment you left, expressing your thoughts and interpretations, or giving your encouragement - every single one bolstered my resolve to see this through. And at last, on the edge of this story, looking to the other side for whatever might come next...a

Just as Dust is, we're there.