Author's Note: Thank you all so much for your patience! :D I hope you continue to enjoy. Happy belated New Year!

He sat before me, hands folded, eyes sharp and slitted. Pale-haired, dark-eyed, clad in noble greenery with a gleaming bow on his back. I dared, for a moment, to meet his gaze. He arched a thin brow, lips pursed, and I glanced away. A Bosmer, hardly taller than me, yet his presence was menacing. No, not quite menacing - not fearsome. Coldly regal. He didn't need to be fearsome to be respected.

I forced myself to speak. "Honoured Listener - "

"Listener." He interrupted, eyes fixed on me, head raised ever so slightly. "What does that mean to you, Gabriel Dust?"

I pursed my lips tight. Dust, goddammit, just Dust. "… I don't know."

"Do not feign to use words you do not understand. You are not one of us."

I hung my head, stiffening. "… I'm sorry, sir."

He remained silent, looking at me thoughtfully. "You are aware that your mother, Abelle, will be leaving for Kvatch shortly to serve me as Speaker."

"Yes."

"As for you…" The Mer gave a mirthless smile. "I have yet to decide your fate."

My fate. I shuddered.

"Abelle has told me of her plans for you. Perhaps they would be acceptable." He stood, pacing back and forth as he spoke. "But then again, she will serve me regardless of what I decide to do with you. And you know more than many of us are comfortable with."

"I wouldn't betray my mother's family, sir." I plead my case humbly as I could.

"No? I do not know that." That smile again, cold and eerie. He pulled a dagger from its sheath on his belt, examining it coolly. "I understand you are a talented alchemist."

"…Yes, sir."

"The Dark Brotherhood is not simply a collective of assassins." The blade glinted, shivering candlelight reaching from the candelabra above us. "We need many talents to operate, as any business does. Healers, spies, connections across Tamriel." A quiet laugh. "Including alchemists, Miss Dust."

I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came.

"Will you serve the Dark Brotherhood, serve Sithis and his bride?" He moved close, his blade moving smoothly to rest on my shoulder.

It was a miracle that my voice remained steady, a miracle I didn't flinch away from the blade. "I don't want to murder anyone, sir."

"That would not be your duty. At least, not yet." He moved again, shadow flickering on cold stone. "Your work would be rather more subtle. You would create poisons and potions for us, and operate as our healer to the extent of your ability. Your position is not entirely unique, Dust. As I said, we have need of many talents. You would not be quite family, but you would be of use to us nonetheless."

I kept myself from scowling - of use. "I have little other choice, sir. It's either that, or I'll be killed." My throat grew dry as I became painfully aware of his blade before he pulled it away, sheathing it with a smile.

"I am glad we understand each other. You will receive your orders for potions from the family here. You may live in the house your mother has found for you, although you are not to leave Cheydinhal, and you will be under supervision, naturally. Whatever else you choose to do with your life, I care not. Simply obey the tenets, serve faithfully, and you will be - relatively free." His eyes slanted. "It is a great mercy I am granting you, Miss Dust. Were it not for your mother, you would be long dead and rotting."

"I know that." I corrected myself quickly. "Sir."

"Good. You are dismissed." He jerked his chin towards the door. "Abelle will be leaving shortly. I suggest you say your goodbyes."

I stood, giving a hasty bow, the corridor a blur. Maman stood in the commons, a chest by her feet, clad in black and speaking softly with Lucien. Both looked up at my approach, Lucien raising a brow before walking away and mum giving a sweet smile. "How did it go, cherie?"

"Well, I'm not dead." I sighed, moving in to hug her tight. "He - the Listener - he agreed with what you wanted. I'll stay here." I squeezed, shaking my head as her hand ran down my back.

"I know it's not what you want, but it's better than - better than what you would suffer otherwise. Try and be happy, Dusty." She laughed. "This is the second time I've asked you to do this. To be happy. To make the best of it." She smiled, regret lingering in her words.

I nodded. "I can do that."

Her lips parted, and for a moment I thought she was going to speak. To say something poignant, something sweet and motherly, something that would soothe the sting of this goodbye. But the words never came. She only smiled and kissed my brow, giving my hand a squeeze. She left without another word, and I stood there, gazing at where she had stood.

Ungolim's words echoed in mind, making my stomach churn. It is a great mercy I am granting you. Hadn't I heard similar before? From Traven, before he had been named Arch Mage. Showing you a great kindness…

I scowled, stalking out of the common room and towards the kitchen, tripping over the resident rat and cursing as I caught the table for balance. Bloody sick of everyone's 'kindness.' I couldn't shake the feeling of bitterness and guilt that clung to me. Bitter because I hadn't wanted this, I didn't ask for it, and I was fairly certain I didn't deserve it. Guilty for feeling bitter, when I should have been grateful simply to be alive.

I sat at the table, cupping my head in my hands and letting myself go limp. Footsteps. I didn't bother looking up to see who they belonged to.

"Hey. Your mother left?" Antoinetta. I heard her move around me to grab something from a nearby cupboard, setting it on the table before me with a thump. "Here. You look like you could use this." I looked through my hands, blinking. A rather large bottle of mead, the label peeling. Antoinetta grinned and pulled up a chair, placing an arm around my shoulders as she sat. "Well?"

I gazed at the bottle, lips pursed, before giving a weak chuckle. A drink sounded like the best damned thing I could ask for.