Hullo everybody! I've been working on this one all week. It's just more exciting to write about Marrick's stuff than Rontu's, I guess :P. The next one's coming out soon, so please review, and I hope you enjoy! -LR

"Tired?" Kematu laughs, incredulous, his brown eyes warm and teasing. "What have you got to be tired about, Rontu? You're spoiled!"

"Me, spoiled?" I scoff incredulously, looking around the table at Ralof and Bjorn for some support. Of course, there is none. "Excuse the hell out of me, but I remember a certain training session when a certain boy threw a tantrum for being beaten by a certain girl." I cock my head, smirking, "Don't you?"

He shrugs, his grin broadening, "Hmm, no, I don't think I do."

"If that's what she remembers of your childhood, then we've much in common, Master Redguard," Bjorn snorts, mopping his mouth with his black beard. "First day in Windhelm, this child decides she's going to be a Stormcloak. She don't stop there, either, no. Decides she's going to prove her salt by taking out Kieran, Nolan and me."

"Sounds like her, all right," Kematu smiles, as I rise from the table, heading to the kitchen. "Always proving something to someone," he calls after me. "Something I learned at a very young age."

I shake my head as I reach the other room, listening to my friends talk.

"You're Hegathean, then?" asked Ralof, "Like Rontu and Adjin and Jarsha?"

"No, no," chuckles Kematu, "We're Tanethian. My kinsman, from last night, and me. I was sent to Hegathe for training under Rontu's father, Raigatz O'Naharis, by my father, Pontos. And, even still, I became Alik'r in Stros M'Kai."

"Such places," murmurs Ralof around a mouthful of goat cheese. "Such people. There are but a few Redguards around Skyrim," he comments. "I'm just thinking back to a time when even Rontu seemed a threat to Skyrim, all because she's a Redguard."

At this, Bjorn's face crumples questioningly.

"I've always wondered, why 'Redguard'?" He shrugs dubiously, "You are more brown than red, no?"

"Could I not ask you the same?" Kematu smirks. "What the hell sort of color is 'Nord'?"

Bjorn slaps the table to accompany his booming guffaw, the other men chiming in with him.

He and his family, Ralof, Kematu, and Jarsha remained at my place, staying in three of my spare bedrooms. Bjorn and Paia stayed in the other suite, with Faelen and Gaelen in Segen's room. Ralof and Kematu shared a room with three beds, and Jarsha would have been with them, but we spent the night talking at my kitchen table.

"So, Adjin wasted no time leaving," I commented. My brother raised his brows with a knowing look as he refilled my cup of coffee. "Which is funny, because all his family is right here."

"Rontu," he warned.

"What?"

"Don't."

"Don't, what?"

"Don't do this to yourself." I chewed on my lower lip. "You know where he went. I know where he went. So, just don't."

He held this serious look until I raised my hands in mock-surrender.

"Fine! Fine." I shrugged, "I won't mention it again."

I took a drink as he watched me a while longer, "Yes, you will," he sighed. Before I could respond, he stood from the table and moved to the hearth, stoking the flames. "Pretty bad snowfall."

"Yes, we tend to have those here," I laughed, nodding at the window. "We'll be getting around six or seven tonight."

"Six or seven snowfalls?"

"Six or seven inches." We both laughed at that, and when we quieted, I realized how much I missed my brother. "It's good to have you all here," I said quietly, staring into my mug. "This house is too big for just us. Even now, as cold as it is tonight, it's so much warmer with people to put in those empty beds."

"Rontu," he said, helplessly, "I would be here in a heartbeat, if I could. But, it's so far from the College; I can't travel the East Road every day and-"

"I'm not complaining, Kemet. Nor am I blaming you, it's just-"

"Summer," he said firmly; I stopped talking. "When the summer break comes, I'll hold off on my Destruction research, and I'll live here for three months."

"Jarsha-"

"I want to," he assured me. "I do. I've spent four years teaching already. I think I can afford to take a break."

I smiled, "Because, otherwise, what's the point?" We both laughed. "It would be good if you did. Segen shows a lot of promise in Magicka, which, as you know, I have no skill for. I could use a Master to train him." I cock my head, in thought. "Combat, too."

"Aren't you teaching him the Alik'r style?"

I nodded, "But, it wouldn't be an advantage, since we live in Skyrim. These Nords wear armor and carry great shields. The Alik'r form is a tradition, and vital to truly master the scimitar," I explain, "but, he ought to have the best of both worlds, to be a truly accomplished swordsman." Jarsha made a loud, exaggerated sigh. "And, what does that mean?"

"That?" Jarsha snorted. "That means that for all your griping and complaining, we're going to have this argument. Again," he huffed. "Now. You need-"

"Don't you say it!"

"You need-"

"I'm warning you!"

"A man in this place," he finished, ignoring my wailing. "A proper, dutiful, strong and loyal steward, to keep your accounts, tutor your son, and manage your estate."

"Adjin does those things," I said dismissively.

"Adjin's off gallivanting with You-Know-Who," he dissents. My mouth snapped shut. "A steward, or a husband. Take your pick."

I gave a brother a level glance.

"I am married, Jarsha," I announced grandly, "What, did you miss the nuptials? Here is my husband," I said, and drew my dirk from its sheath at the small of my back. I stuck it deftly in my table, and meet his gaze again. "Any other candidates should take it up with him."

Jarsha was unamused.

"Steward, or husband," he echoed, unfazed.

Our gazes meet, straining against each other in a battle of wills that I eventually lost.

"Steward," I grumbled.

He nodded approvingly, "Good. I was waiting for you to say so. I already have someone in mind; I'll write to him presently. He's the perfect match, for you and for Segen."

I snorted, "For your sake, he'd better be."

"Oh, Rontu, have you so little faith in your big brother?"

I threw him a dirty look, "Fuck you."

Jarsha merely laughed, "No wonder your spouse is a dirk." A warm, companionable silence stretched on between us, wind howling outside. "Mmm," he grunted appreciatively, finishing his drink. He drummed his fingers on the table, "It was good to see them. Kematu. . . Hassan. . . Mishak. . . Dirar. . . Alimah. . . Jhalis." He shook his head. "So many names I never thought I'd hear or say, ever again."

"Mm," I assented, taking a drink. "Know what you mean."

He seemed to steady himself, and cast a glance in my direction.

"There's another name, too," he said. "One that I've been hearing quite a lot, recently."

I stared into my drink.

"If you're going to say it, then just say it," I mused.

"Shazaa," he said quietly, "Shazaa Ibn Rahaim." The kitchen grew very quiet, with only the wind and snow blowing harshly outside to fill the lack of sound. I studied my hands carefully, as though it were my first time seeing them. He sighed. "Alright. I take it back. Pretend I didn't say anything."

I shook my head, "I can't just fake like I didn't hear you. This is something I've been anticipating for a very long time. And, I'm not afraid anymore, to face it." I slid my gaze over to meet his, "Where is he now, brother? I'll meet him on my own terms."

His shoulder rose and fell tiredly, "I don't know," he said. "But, someone in this house, does."

My brows pulled in as I regarded him, Someone?

Then, it all clicked.

"Kematu."

Presently, my friend looks up smilingly from his conversation with Paia, and rises when I beckon him to follow me. I make it to the kitchen first, my nervous energy causing me to find and start scrubbing a pot sitting in the basin. Kematu walks in smoothly behind me, laughing still, a bread roll in his hand.

"Your friends, Rontu, they. . ." he manages between spurts of laughter, "They're very amusing."

I drop the cloth into the pot, and pick up the hem of apron to dry my hands. I turn to face him, keeping my voice cool and measured.

"You've been harboring Shazaa." Kematu's smile falls slowly, fading until his laugh lines smooth over, his visage serious. This only makes my fists clench tight, nails digging into palms. "You've been harboring Shazaa at Swindler's Den."

His tongue flicks out to wet his lips, as he considers his next words carefully.

"I'm not your enemy," he says, and it's only to be expected. Redguards hold conversations as though they are playing at a strategy game. I took the offense, to call his bluff. His responding move was to assure me that he isn't a threat to me.

I have to continue the pressure.

"And, is he? Do you not think I know that he's been looking for me? There is a reason why I have been avoiding him, Kematu, and it's that he sold my family out and I don't trust him." Now, to take my attack to the next level, and set up my position. I snatch a butcher's knife from the block and turn it over in my hands. "So, forgive me, but if I get the slightest itch that tells me that you've done anything to endanger myself and my son, I will slit you from nose to navel," I say, my tone still conversational. "And, I will not be sorry, Kematu. I've sacrificed too much already to be sorry now."

Kematu's tongue makes another appearance; he's thinking again.

"I will not say that I never intended to have him meet you."

"Because that would be a lie."

He lets go of a harsh breath, "Calm down, Rontu."

Wrong move.

"Not when it concerns the safety of my son," I snap. "Have you forgotten what he caused? What we lost, because of his treachery?"

Kematu holds my gaze for a while, before sighing and sitting at the small table.

"That was not his fault."

"Not his fault?" I recoil, incredulous. "Which part? When he was inspired to betray us to the Aldmeri Dominion? Or when he actually tried to fucking do it?"

"None of it, Rontu, that's what I'm trying to tell you!" Kematu thunders. He sighs heavily, rubbing the grooves of the table. "Shazaa was deceived." I am shocked into silence, and can do little more than just lean back against the wash basin, my full attention on Kematu. "What I'm about to tell you, is something kept secret between Magistrate Rahaim and the Alik'r of Taneth. It concerns the root of the betrayal of Hegathe."

"Whaa- How is Taneth involved?" I'm beyond confused. "Why haven't I heard any of this before?"

"You do not know this, Rontu, because the betrayal didn't originate in Hegathe." Kematu's eyes are cold, the pain of so many years ago still so fresh. "It happened in Taneth. In the noble house, Suda."

Iman.

Iman Suda.

The name is familiar to me. As is its story.

A daughter of a noble house, Iman frittered its honor away by betraying the city's defenses. I spent my whole life, believing that both incidents- Hegathe's and Taneth's- were isolated. I mean, one managed to resist while the other succumbed, so logically one was plotted and failed before the other was plotted and succeeded.

This wasn't so.

Taneth is home to Giaz Ibn Rahaim, known to me not only as the Magistrate, but also as Shazaa's father, and my father's friend. According to Kematu, after me, there were many others more attentive to Shazaa's need for dominion. Noble women who were more than willing to submit themselves.

And one of his favorites? This Iman Suda.

But, she was much more than she appeared. While young and naive Shazaa thought she was wrapped around his finger, he was wrapped around hers. With his unwitting help, she orchestrated the downfalls of both cities. While the other noble houses of Taneth recognized her betrayal and went after her, she managed to escape to Skyrim, under a false name. She took the fall for Taneth's demise, and Shazaa. . .

"Shazaa was forced to take the fall for her designs against Hegathe," concludes Kematu. "He was left exiled, stripped of his titles, disowned by Giaz and wandering aimlessly, without a friend in all the world."

"Seems he may have found one in you," I mutter hoarsely. Somehow, over the course of this conversation, I've ended up in his chair, my mind numb. Kematu stands beyond me, tending a new pot of apple cabbage stew. "Doesn't explain why he's been tracking my movements all these years."

"He remembered you, at his trial," Kematu replies over his shoulder.

"What?" I ask, my brow furrowing. I swivel in my chair to see him. "Remembered me?"

"Just so." Kematu tastes the broth, dislikes it, and reaches for more salt. "He remembered, when you spoke for him. Seventeen, you were. All legs. Face of a baby." His face glows with the light from the hearth, eyes bright as he stares into the flames as if they hold the memory. "You had Paia with you, sweet, shy Paia, who's never hated a soul in her whole life, and she had the most wretched look on her face, watching him. Your brothers were gone, your parents buried, your house burned to the ground." He shakes his head. "Behind you, all the angry faces of Hegathe, supporting your wrath. Before you, the broken man whose own father claims he's done this to you." Kematu laughs, "But, you don't see what they see. You see the boy who followed you more closely than your shadow. Who admired your beauty long before any of the rest of us could even see it." He resumes stirring. "The Magistrate tells you the verdict is yours. They are- all of them- waiting to see him punished with death. But, you." He chuckles, shaking his head, "You chose life. Mercy."

"I didn't," I interrupt quickly. "What I said was-"

"I remember what you said," he snorts, throwing in a chopped head of cabbage. "So does Shazaa. So does every Hegathean with ears. Even then, it was nothing more than a bullshit cover-up. Kill Shazaa?" I shut my mouth, swallowing hard as Kematu chuckles. "No, you said that he ought to be exiled. 'Doomed to live out the rest of his days in sadness and shame'." Kematu cocks his head inquisitively. "Quite like your Thieves Guild friends claim you did for Mercer Frey. Difference is, with Frey, you actually meant it."

"Alright," I whisper, almost without sound. "Alright. I wanted him to live. Is that so wrong? I wanted him to live."

"Why?" he pushes. "Why, Segen?"

"Because, in that moment, I realized that he was just like-" The tears spring into my eyes before I can stop them. "Just like me. No friends. No family. He was all alone. And, he shouldn't have had to die that way." I shake my head fiercely, "Nobody should have to die that way."

"You lived that way," he points out. "Is that fate any better?"

"Yes," I say, certain, "because, it isn't a fate. With time, you can get everything back. You won't have to be lonely anymore. If he died, he wouldn't have had a chance for even that."

The kitchen grows quiet, though leagues and ages away, in my dining room, we can hear Bjorn's booming laughter and Ralof's wild cackle.

"Where is she, then?" I ask quietly, staring into the hearth at Kematu's memory. "Where is Iman Suda?"

"She's in Whiterun," he supplies, "In hiding. By the Concordat, we Alik'r are not allowed within the city. Iman, she knows this." He wets his lips. "But, a travelling Redguard woman, whose face is unknown to Iman. . ." I remain silent. ". . . a woman who is independent of such binding laws. . ." Kematu's brown eyes slide to meet mine, "She would be the last thing Iman would expect."

I ponder for a few moments that seem more like a few millennium.

"And, I don't have to meet him?" I ask. "I won't have to see Shazaa?" He's silent. "I want your word on this."

"While I'm sure he would like it," Kematu sighs, "I will inform him of your decision. Everything that can be done to dissuade him, I will do. But, just so you know, it's because of your words that day, that he has sought you out all this time. You're the only one who was ever willing to give him a second chance. To believe him."

"Your word, Kematu."

He hesitates, but gives a tight nod, "If you meet, it will be on your own terms, Rontu O'Naharis."

"Thank you." Relief washes over me like cool water. "When do we leave?"

"Oh, soon, it will have to be soon," he says. "We don't want her slipping away again."

"I'll need to find someone to watch my house," I muse, more to myself than to him. "Especially now, that Adjin is leaving."

"Have you considered getting a steward?" suggests Kematu innocently.

"May have considered it once or twice," I say with a faint smirk. "No, Jarsha's got a man coming soon. He's written to him, informing him of an open position for a Hjaalmarch manor house. He's accepted."

"That's excellent," Kematu nods approvingly. "A Redguard then, is it?"

"I don't think so," I say, brow wrinkling in thought. "I believe his name was Angus. Agnes? No. . ." Suddenly I remember, snapping my fingers, "It was Argis," I recount thoughtfully. "Argis, the Bulwark."