Author's Note: Thank you all again for waiting, for reading and for reviewing! C: Special thanks to 'LovingYouIsAllINeed' for inspiring review - this chapter's for you!

Peace.

After the chill of our days on horseback and the feverish heat when I arrived, the days of content warmth and peace were more than welcome. Still, we took shifts - the two of us awake would eat, keep watch, talk or sit in a comfortable silence. Sometimes it would be the three of us - Lucien was restless, stalking back and forth and checking on Shadowmere far more than necessary. This was one of those times - as mum was settling for her break but unable to sleep, laying in bed while I perched at her side and we read together.

"They say Dark Elven women are pro- pro- something. Prostitutes?" she said, although she was dubious." I read The Real Barenziah aloud - we'd found a copy beneath an old bookshelf, as though it was meant to be hidden out of sight by its owner. Mum laughed, giving a crinkled smile as I grinned at her and Lucien lounged at the table.

"Ahh, this old book. Vicente lent me a copy when I first came to the sanctuary - a copy from Daggerfall, no less." Mum sighed at the memory, gazing at the book in my lap. "You know, sometimes I swear you have a bit of Dunmer blood. The way you flirted with all those poor servant boys…" Lucien snorted as I flushed red, as mum gave a catlike smirk. "Oh, it's true. Shameless thing. Except, of course, when she was busy reading, or dabbling with some new potion idea, or fighting with her sister…" Mum tapped her chin in thought. "What was it Anya said you were? Part Argonian?"

"Argonian?" Lucien raised a disbelieving brow, sticking his spoon into a bowl of cold stew.

Mum only smirked. "Why, Lucien, haven't you seen her feet?"

"You - " I sputtered, instinctively drawing my feet closer to my body as I felt my cheeks blaze. Mum cackled, feigning a snatch at my leg.

"She has webbed toes! It's only really noticeable up close, however…" Mum gave a throaty laugh at my glower, tapping my cheek. "Come now, cherie, you know I only tease." She gave an indignant gasp as I playfully smacked her hand away. "By the Night Mother, I'd never have thought my own daughter would treat me so poorly." She raised a brow before sighing, sinking into the bed. "And now you've worn this old woman out. Shame on you."

"Shame, shame." I shook my head and stood, closing the book, unable to hold back a reluctant chuckle. "I'll let you sleep, mum."

"Mm. And I'm going to check on Shadowmere." Lucien stood behind us, already making his way to the door. I frowned.

"Again? That's the fourth time today. You're - " I scoffed as he let the door fall heavily shut behind him. "Hmph."

"Follow him." Mum smiled up at me. "He just needs something to keep his mind off things, and I think he'd appreciate the company, even if he'd never admit it." She chuckled. "Not to mention I need my beauty sleep."

"Beauty hibernation, you old she-bear." I grinned, running to the door and only barely dodging a pillow aimed at my head before stepping out into the drifts of snow. Our tracks were painfully apparent now around the cottage - it had been a few days since it had snowed. The air was crisp and sweet. I took a breath and walked in the footstep's Lucien had made, following them into the stable and opening the door, poking my head inside. "Lucien?" A gruff hem was my only reply. I stepped into the mildew warmth of the stable, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the dimness.

"What did you need." Lucien stood by Shadowmere, gently stroking down her flank as she ate from a bag of hay. I shrugged, making my way to a pile of straw and flopping onto it lazily. The stable was small, but cozy - fit for two horses, with supplies. Apparently the previous tenant had been ready for a harsh winter. I gazed at the ceiling, blinking as a cold droplet hit me - snow, melting through the cracks of a trapdoor meant to open in the spring for sunlight.

"Mum kicked me out." It was - familiar. This strange warmth, the smell, the gentle whuff of breath from Shadowmere. A vague flicker of memory - being perched in a hayloft, barefoot, dress covered in straw. I shook the memory away, watching Lucien as he groomed the mare. His movements were jerking, repetitive, as though every muscle in hid body was coiled tight. "…You're tense."

He snorted. "And I suppose I have no reason to be?"

"…No. You do, of course. We all do." I bit my lip. "I just…"

"Wanted to ease my worries, soothe my soul, some such nonsense?" Lucien turned to gaze at me, expressionless. "That's not my way, pet. I won't be satisfied until the true traitor is found and dealt with. Until my name is cleared." I nodded as he spoke, a lump growing in my throat. I hadn't wanted to soothe him, I'd wanted - what the hell had I wanted? I scowled inwardly. It was just strange to see him so on edge, and I found it disconcerting. Did mum feel that way, as well? It was something they shared between them, then, in those quiet whispers while I slept. Fear.

I felt no fear. This was all to strange, too distant for me to understand. All I felt was a distant worry, and anxiety for mum. And - as much as it made me grimace to realize it - for Lucien. I frowned as he sat next to me, frowning from beneath a furrowed brow. "You look puzzled."

"I - I have a lot on my mind." I shook my head, glancing at his arm. The rip in his sleeve showed a mark of the old wound, a scar. "How's that healing?"

"Fine." He rolled his eyes as I took his arm, pushing away the folds of cloth to examine the scar. It healed well - a faded wound, as though it had happened months ago rather than weeks. "Your father taught you, I take it. Abelle said he was a healer."

"…Yes." Another flicker of memory, of papa's face and the smell of wormwood, before I shook it away.

"Odd." A wolfish grin. "I didn't think Argonians had the knack for it."

"Bastard!" I scowled, slapping him half-heartedly on the arm as he snickered, even as a laugh of my own escaped my throat. "You can hardly even see them, and besides, at least I'm not a pale, bastard, half-blooded Imperial son of a - "

"Shut up, pet."

And he kissed me.

Sinking into the straw, his warmth on me, a hand on the small of the back and lips rough against mine. I was stunned for a moment before I responded, body yielding, mind panicking.

Dammit, dammit, dammit, stop enjoying it, stop - my hand snaked its way up to his back, pulling him closer, sinking further into the straw as he half-laid over me, taut. A palm ran down my shoulder, to my hip, toying with my belt as with smirking eyes he pulled away and growled. "Third time's the charm, poppet?"

I blinked, warmth coursing through me, making my knees weak. "Um. Isn't - isn't it your shift? To sleep? I think it is, since mum stayed awake for a bit for hers and you haven't taken yours and…" I trailed off at the realization that I was rambling, clearing my throat.

"And shall I take you to bed with me, pet?" He smirked at my indignant squeak. "Abelle would hang me, which would make it all the sweeter." A cackle as I growled before he took my chin, tilting his head. "Perhaps another time. But, for now, you are correct. For once." He stood, hands slipping from my body to brush straw off his robes. "I'll see you inside."

My fistful of straw hit the door uselessly behind him.

I cursed, laying back on the straw again, glaring at the ceiling before moving my gaze to Shadowmere, who gave me a reproving look. "Your master is a bastard, you know that? And a fetcher, and a git." She only snorted. "Yes, precisely." Third time's the charm - the first my kiss on the cheek bravado, the second his response, and now this.

What was this, exactly?

I sighed, closing my eyes and losing myself in thought before wincing as another droplet hit me, harder this time, frigid water dripping down my nose. I blinked, looking up to see a crack of sunlight.

And eyes.

I didn't have time to scream. The door above flew open, Shadowmere gave sounds of fury, something heavy landed atop me. Cold - cold snow on me, cold boots, cold steel poised at my throat. And a cold, cold voice.

"Impure, impure, he touched you, the mother-killer-dog. Hush, my sweet, or I'll have to silence you. And I don't want to hurt you again." Eyes a shade of rat fur, breath reeking of meat, a hand cold and clammy on my wrist. I shuddered, and stared.

"You!"