Author's Note: This one is for Ethelle! Thank you for all the amazing reviews! =3 *Offers poutine and a bottle of Shein*

"Dusty."

I stared hard at her, this woman I'd trusted, I'd loved, as she wrung her hands and approached. Slowly, gently, as though toward a frightened animal, or a coiled snake. Bitter bile rose in my throat as she met my gaze, and sickly pang of guilt twisting in my stomach at the glitter of tears in her eyes.

"I came as quickly as I could." She pursed her lips, gaze moving between me and the floor as though she couldn't bear to hold it. I moved suddenly, stepping backwards. She paused, sighing.

"Dust - "

"Why." Cold and tempered like steel, the simplest thing I could say, the simplest thing I could ask without breaking into tears.

"I..." She trailed away, running a hand over her tired face. "I can explain, sweet."

"Why," I persisted, holding the word on my tongue and narrowing my eyes, unmoved as she winced. "He loved you, and you killed him. Why? No." I clutched my brow, shaking my head and backing away, my voice breaking. "I don't want to know, do I? How many have you killed? Papa, Falrung. Sirius, too? How many others, Abelle? "

Lucien stepped to her side, voice cool. "This is foolish."

"Shut up." I hissed, feeling a tiny flare of vengeful delight at the flicker of anger in his dark eyes. "I don't know who you are. Either of you," I said pointedly, turning my gaze on her. "And I don't want to."

Maman, mum, Abelle, murderer, shook her head, whispering helplessly. "Dust."

"Don't you dare." I snapped at last, my voice trembling, eyes stinging. "Don't you dare." I began to back away again, clenching my fists, hanging my head to hide tears. "Stay away from me."

And I ran. Like I had from Toltette, from the truth about Bolor, from everything that had ever gone wrong. A problem I couldn't solve, a wound no potion could heal. I knew no other way.

The halls echoed eerily, my shadow cast on the wall. I ran as far as I could from her, until I reached the other end of the Sanctuary and ran inside the last room, slamming the door behind me and collapsing on it with a strangled curse. I gave a shuddering sigh, hating myself for crying, pressing my brow against the cool mahogany of the door for little comfort.

"I take it things did not go well."

I jerked, catching my breath. Vicente. He watched me mildly, arms crossed.

"I didn't. Didn't think anyone was here." I hung my head, turning to the door to leave. "Sorry."

He shifted behind me, his gaze piercing my back. "You are angry with her."

"Why the hell shouldn't I be?" I turned on him, snarling. "She killed my father, the man who taught me magic, a boy too young to shave." I gave a bitter, half-hearted laugh. "She gave me her weapon as my engagement present. My entire life, she lied."

A pause, his eyes darkened, lips pursed in though. "Sit down, Dust."

I snorted. "Why should I take orders from you?"

His voice hardened. "Sit."

I wasn't sure exactly when I did, but I did without question. He moved to his desk, pulling out an old box, shuffling through papers before raising a yellowed envelope. The wax seal was long since broken, the edges bent and wrinkled. Hesitantly I took it from his grasp, shivering as I caught the mingled smell of age and mint.

"So you were the friend." I murmured, tracing the address thoughtlessly as I spoke. "The one she wrote to, in Cyrodiil."

"I suppose I was." A soft smile. "Read it."

With the touch of a scholar used to handling ancient texts I smoothed the letter out, setting aside a withered sprig of mint. It was her voice, her words, that spoke to me.

Dear Vicente,

How I've missed you all at the Sanctuary. I hope you all are well. I write to you now from my new home, the Toltette mansion. It is quite beautiful. I know Davide can give Anya and Gabby a wonderful life here, not like they would have had before. Though it breaks my heart to look at them, now. Anya understands what death is - she has always known, I think. She grieves for her father, but understands he isn't coming back. Her training has been going wonderfully, even for one so young.

But, little Gabby - Vicente, I cannot feign to think she will follow in her sister's foot steps, or in my own. Not now.

She seems to believe it is her fault, that her father and Falrung are gone. She wanders about the house, sometimes, calling for them, and has terrible nightmares. Jacques always had her pour the wine, and she seems to think she did it wrong, somehow. It breaks my heart, that she blames herself when it is her mother alone who should carry that burden. Such small things spiraled out of control.

You know why I hated Jacques, why I went to Davide. It hurt me terribly that I was not enough for him. That he needed Falrung, to the point where I wasn't wanted. Davide cared for me, even as poor as I was. But, before I knew it, he wanted me for his own, and his request - he asked Sithis to kill my husband. I didn't know, not until I received the contract. And I obeyed. As I always have the orders of Sithis, as I always will.

I know these wounds will heal, over time. Anya is not quite happy, but she smiles, she laughs, even through her pain. She is strong. And here, in this beautiful place, I have all I need to raise her as a daughter of the Dread Father. But I don't think Gabby will ever be able to do this. She is utterly a creature of life, and laughter, and I would not change this for the world. I found her playing in the kitchen, with a mortar and pestle, and when I asked what she was doing she said she was going to get papa back, heal him like he healed others at the chapel. She is so stubborn, I wonder if she just might do it.

Ah, I'm rambling. Soon, things will be peaceful and happy, I'm sure. Already, Anya is making friends, and Gabby is staining her knees green, running about the gardens. I must be patient. As you have told me, patience is an assassin's greatest virtue - and perhaps that of a mother, too. Give my warmest regards to the family.

With all my love, Abelle

I hadn't realized I'd been crying as I read until a tear stained the page. I blinked them away, closing my eyes and hugging myself tight, as though I might be able to keep these twisting emotions inside. Vicente smiled sadly.

"She loves you."

I sniffled. "... I know."

"Go to her."

I stood, creeping through the corridor as Vicente followed, following the sound of quiet murmurs. Lucien glanced up as I sidled around the corner, his lips pressed in a harsh line.

"Well?"

Mum stood, eyes wide. I swallowed a growing lump in my throat, unable to approach her, unable to leave. I whispered, almost to myself, as I held her gaze.

"I missed you."

She gave a shuddering sigh of relief, moving to me and catching me in her arms in one swift movement. "I've missed you, too, my sweet."

"I want answers." I paused, pulling away from her even as I held her hands tight. "I don't - why, maman? I don't understand anything."

"I will explain. I promise." She glanced over my shoulder, bright eyes crinkling as she laughed. "Ah, Vicente. My first time here in a decade, and already I need to ask a favour. Please, put on some tea." I smiled as she cradled my cheek. "I have much to discuss with my daughter."