Author's Note: I'm so pleased so many are still reading! :D Thank you all for the awesome support!

"You haven't spoken in a while."

I gazed at the soul gem where it lay quietly in my drawer. I hadn't dared to touch it. The last two weeks the soul inside would, on occasion, speak – ramblings, poetry, advice. Whether I acknowledged him or not, he would talk. I would awaken in the midst of the night to hear soft, cracked sobbing or mad laughter, and it took all my will not to throw the gem out the window.

And when he would speak of his mother, all my will not to pity him.

These last two days, however, he had lain silent. Is he gone? He couldn't be, I knew, but still I hoped against hope. I gingerly nudged the gem, shuddering at the shiver of cold that moved through my fingers and body in response. The gem's surface was dull, at first, but after a moment seemed to gleam as if awakened.

"You do not like when I speak."

I sighed. "No. But I like knowing if I'm yet rid of you."

"Not yet."

I dragged a hand through my hair, glancing out the window. Almost dawn. "Well, I can see that now." Soon, customers would arrive. I would go about my day, making potions, selling stock. Pretending I was just another shopkeep who chose to live in Cheydinhal, pretending these past few weeks had never existed.

"Why do you not get rid me?"

His words drew me out of thought. I turned my gaze on the gem again. "... Because my mother said not to. And I'd rather the Night Mother didn't curse me or have me killed for rejecting a gift." I scoffed softly, muttering. "Even a 'gift' like you."

"You hate her. Not as much as I, but I can feel it." He spoke fervently, almost pleading. "I can feel it, burning off you. Why obey her?"

I snorted. "I said I'd rather not die."

"You know your mother would kill you, if asked."

My blood ran cold. I tried to swallow away the sudden tightness in my throat, glaring at the gem. A truth I already knew, but a frightening one. "You would have killed me, too. I'm inclined to think all of you would on a whim." Or on the Night Mother's whim, at least.

"So you'd remain their prisoner?" The traitor hissed. I could almost imagine his expression, the way his eyes would burn the same way they had that night. His words seemed terribly sane in contrast. "That whore's lackey, the mother-killer's plaything?"

"I am not his plaything."

"You cried out for him in sleep, last night."

I felt heat creep up my face, over my shoulders. "I'd appreciate it," I managed to snarl, "if you'd kindly shut up."

"I thought you were different. I hoped." The voice grew cold and distant. "You're no better than they are."

"Better them than you." I slammed the drawer shut, and was alone.

Lackey. Plaything. His words clung to me as I dressed, as I moved downstairs to reluctantly begin my day. I was angry with mother, with Lucien, but were they using me? As much as I wanted to hold on to my bitterness, to feel justified, time and dreams had gentled it and it slipped away from my grasp.

It was just one stupid argument. I bit my lip, slowly descending. Remembering. Those dark, gaping holes of his eyes, his hand squeezing mine before we faced the Night Mother – did all of that mean nothing?

I didn't give a damn about the Night Mother, that much was certain. But I cared for mum. And, perhaps, I cared for Lucien.

I glanced down as something brushed my foot at the bottom of the steps – a basket of potions, a reminder of my duty to the Sanctuary. Better to get it over with. I sighed, hefting it onto my shoulder and making my way to the Sanctuary. There was little enough chance I would encounter Lucien, this early – and in the back of my mind, as memories lingered, I wasn't sure I was so averse to seeing him.

Though the last time I had entered I'd done so as easily as if I belonged, this time I crept through like an intruder. Silently, cautiously. I slowed, then stopped as voices reached me – Vicente, Lucien, Ocheeva.

"Talaendril is with her, as is the entirety of the Kvatch Sanctuary." Lucien, his voice sharp. They were arguing. I frowned, listening close. "And with the Imperial Legion there, we cannot risk sending our own and attracting attention. They will have to fend for themselves."

"I must agree with the Speaker." Ocheeva's hiss. "It is a great loss, but even if we could get there safely, she would be long gone."

Gone?

"Then there is nothing more to be said."

"Nothing? Lucien, you of all of us should be willing to seek her out." It was the first time I'd heard Vicente angry, voice taut and harsh. "And what will we tell – " The voice paused, as though in thought. I inched closer to the door of his room before relenting and stepping through. "... Dust."

"Tell me what?" My voice shook. I gazed from one face to the next, both demanding and begging. "What's happened?"

"Kvatch has been attacked." Ocheeva spoke first. "Some sort of – portal has appeared, letting Daedra into the city. And the – " She hesitated. "... The Listener is there."

Listener. Mum.

"As is the Imperial Legion," Lucien cut in gruffly. "Including Adamus Phillada. We cannot risk entering the city, with both the threat of Daedra and him – "

"And what of your loyalties to your brethren, Lucien? Your Listener? You would abandon them so easily?"

Adamus. Where had I heard that name before? I shook my head, dismissing the thought and glaring at Lucien. "Yes, what of them?"

His returned glare was intense, making my breath catch in my chest. Those black, almost lifeless eyes seemed to bore into me, freezing me to the spot. "You would question my loyalty," he spoke softly, dangerously. "After what you called our Matron?"

A flicker of anger sparked in me, and I thawed from the coldness of his stare. "I'm not loyal to your mother. I'm loyal to mine. I'm going."

"Dust – "

"I have to go, Vicente, I can't – " I hushed as a cool hand lay on my shoulder, stilling me. He gazed down calmly, tilting his head. Understanding.

"Take my horse. I would go with you, if I could travel by day, but she is all I can offer. Lucien, show her in the stables."

"I do not take orders from you, Valtieri." Lucien growled, but nevertheless marched past him, leading. I followed, heart racing, mind racing, the soft echo of Vicente's voice making me shiver.

"Sithis guide you."

We moved quickly and, at first, silently. He glared ahead, moving without hesitation out of the Sanctuary and through the city. It was still quiet, unnervingly so. It seemed to suffocate until at last I drew in a breath and broke the silence.

"Why won't you help her?"

Lucien stared ahead, eyes dark, lips taut. "A portal spewing daedra opens, and all you question is why I do not rush to her side?" He scoffed softly, turning away. "Others will come. And should one arrive in Cheydinhal, threaten my Sanctuary, I will be here to defend it. Abelle is more than capable of caring for herself. Perhaps it is you who lacks faith."

After all we'd been through, after she went with him, defended him – I snarled. "And what about mu – your Listener? What about defending her? She followed you to Applewatch, Lucien. She saved your life, warning you. She trusted you."

He pursed his lips, but said nothing.

First, my home. My home that she'd given me. I prepared in a frenzy as Lucien waited outside – potions, rations, a cloak, anything I could think of in the few minutes I allowed myself. The wakizashi – I tried to ignore the bitter taste in my mouth, the heat I felt remembering how I had learned what little I knew of how to use it.

If I had to kill something – someone – could I even manage? This time, the Night Mother wouldn't be there to protect me, possess me. I growled, latching the blade to my belt and losing myself in bitter, conflicted thought. In my room, fastening a cloak around my shoulders, I thought for a moment I was hearing things before I remembered who had spoken to me.

"She is in danger, your mother."

"Shut up," I hissed, heaving the bag over my shoulder. "I don't have time for you."

"Take me with you. You'll need me."

I scowled. "The hell I will."

"She needs you. You need me."

I paused, my throat tight. Then, with a growl, I snatched the gem and slipped it safely into the pocket of my robe. I couldn't risk him telling the truth, even as I questioned his motives. There wasn't time to argue. I ran back out, struggling to keep up with the silent strides Lucien made to the stables.

Dawn had passed and the sun began to bleed over the trees, drying the wet grasses beneath our feet. Lucien watched with crossed arms as I prepared the horse he lead me to – a tall Chestnut mare. Saddle, reins, maddening adjustments that seemed to take years but would only slow me down further if I waited. At last I moved to get astride, glaring down at Lucien when he spoke.

"You will never reach her in time. You're a fool."

"And you're a coward." I held his gaze as long as I could, even as it made me bite back a shudder. Coward. Treacherous, ungrateful coward. Whatever feelings of forgiveness I'd had that morning dissipated as I turned away. "So I suppose we're even."

I spurred the horse on, turning to the road, to the sun drifting skyward, and didn't look back.