Hullo, everybody! I have added more to the end of the chapter. Sorry for long wait; it was a beast to write. More soon, I promise. Until then, please Read and Review, and I hope you enjoy! -LR

"I don't like you."

I heave a sigh, watching the air leave me like dragonsbreath.

I knew this was coming. And now that it has, I can't be upset; it's not my problem anyhow.

It's Shazaa's.

He stands chest-deep in the water of the Sea of Ghosts, mending the rope fence enclosing my fish hatchery. It must be terribly cold, but he doesn't show it. His face is drawn but relaxed, golden eyes focused dutifully on his task. Segen sits on the dock beside Na'el, half-heartedly whittling a fishing rod from an oak branch. His mismatched eyes are levelled on Shazaa, as snow falls lightly around them.

I look to Shazaa now, for his reaction.

He barely glances at Segen: "Any particular reason for your bothering me?"

"Dunno," Segen shrugs. "Any particular reason for your hanging around my mother?"

Shazaa laughs shortly.

"Dunno," he mocks. "Other than the fact that I'm madly in love with her?"

This catches Segen by surprise; I don't think he expected a truthful answer. In any case, he recovers quickly from his shock.

"She's given her answer, hasn't she?" he sneers. "And besides that, my father will be back with us soon. He's promised me. In person."

"Has he now?" comes Shazaa's mechanical reply. He remains focused on his work, weaving the new netting pieces to the posts of the enclosure; he's not having this conversation with a child.

"Aye." Segen says stubbornly, "Aye, he has. So, you'd best be clear of him by the time he comes."

Shazaa nods, brows narrowed as he humors Segen's threats.

"Why, yes, of course," he replies. "When your father comes, I will most assuredly be gone from your life. Don't you worry."

Segen takes a few moments to realize that Shazaa isn't rushing to pack his things; he has no intention of leaving. What's more, the threat of Marrick's impending return isn't enough to light a fire under his ass; he's mocking Segen.

Realizing that he is in no way being taken seriously, Segen's brows pull in and his jaw sets.

"You have to leave," he snaps. "You're in my father's way."

At this, Shazaa finally responds seriously, scoffing: "I'm sorry. You don't really think he's coming back, do you?"

"Of course, he is! And, you're in his way of being with my mother!""

"Just as you are in mine, you annoying little eye sore."

"I don't like you."

There it is again.

He's made a habit of letting Shazaa know just how deep his spite runs. It's been this way ever since Segen figured out I'm not going to just kick him out of the manor. Argis has tried to explain it to him in every way that I can't, but Segen just won't accept it. If I still care for his father, he says, and his father intends to return, then I shouldn't entertain Shazaa's hopes and above all, his presence.

Shazaa is an old friend, with no place left to turn.

I glance at Shazaa for his response. He's giving Segen a death glare, clearly annoyed.

"Feeling's mutual, Spring Chicken." Shazaa's pet name for Segen. More of an insult, really; Segen hates that all the young daughters of our hosted families have crushes on him. He's braver and faster than the older boys, and with his eyes and hair, he makes a striking picture. Just like Marrick. Just like his papa.

"You have one more time," he says presently. He clips the fishing line with his teeth and ties it off. "You have one more time to call me that."

"Spring Chicken."

Segen throws down his rod, "Stop calling me that, I said!"

"Or what, little boy?"

His gaze narrows: "My mother-"

"Your mother? She won't kick me out, if that's your thought." Shazaa notices the discarded rod and reaches to take it off the dock. "She pities me too much."

This brings a grin to Segen's face.

"Loves my father too much, you mean." That comment earns him an irritated look, and Segen's grin turns triumphant. Shazaa thinks better of his anger, and instead holds Segen's fishing pole up to where Segen can get it. He reaches for the rod, and Shazaa pulls it back out of his reach. Brows knit, my son tries for it again, to no avail. "Hey!" He jumps for it, as Shazaa holds it away, in the deeper waters. "Give me back my rod!"

"Do chickens swim, I wonder?"

"Do hopeless suitors?"

"I actually did need a new pole. Thanks."

"You're half the man my father is!"

"And twice the husband." Segen sucks in an accusatory gasp of air, eyes narrowed. "Or, haven't you noticed that I'm here for you and your mother, when he is not?"

Segen recoils in outrage, sputtering around for a comeback.

"Well, you- I don't- My mother-" He focuses his anger and channels it into his fallback: "I DON'T LIKE YOU."

"Well now," mutters Shazaa, clipping the excess netting. "Back to square one."

"Give me back my fishing rod!"

"And now, square two. Come now, I thought you were one child to think outside of the box."

They keep bickering this way, taking no notice of me at the hilltop.

I smile to myself and shake my head.

"Milady." I glance to my right to see Danica looking on the scene at the hatchery. "Won't you stop them?"

I can't help but laugh at this.

"No," I say, and nod towards my two pieces of home. "Can't you see, Danica? They're bonding."

"Saw you with Segen, down at the hatchery," I say casually, as we finish up the laundry. "And again, at the garden. And, yet again in market."

He deftly folds the edges of another sheet and places them atop his stack.

"Call me Chicken feed."

I shake my head, smirking, "Mn, it's more than that. I think he likes you."

"Obviously, those eyes of yours don't get much use. That boy of yours," Shazaa mutters, clicking his tongue. "Insufferable."

I almost bark out, laughing.

"They see much and more," I declare. "And, I'm tempted to think you like him, too."

"He's been hounding me since I first arrived," he seethes. "Insufferable. Absolutely insufferable."

"You convinced Kematu to hold him against his will. From his mother, even," I point out, folding the fresh sheets. "Insufferable is the very least of his capabilities. Count yourself lucky."

"Against his will," he snorts, stacking what I've folded in the linen closet. "I would've thought you'd applaud me, Rontu, for getting him away from that barbarian you call his sire."

"Barbarian," I chuckle. Yes, he is that. "If it was beyond my power to separate them, even after all these years, then perhaps they were never meant to be separated."

"You only thought you were doing what was best," he said gently. "And, you didn't have much of a choice in the matter; he separated himself."

"I had the agents of the Dark Brotherhood, the Stormcloaks and the Thieves Guild at my disposal," I say, shaking my head. "If the spirit had moved me, he would have been easily found." There is a tense pause stretching between us; he knows I'm right. "You know I'm right," I tell him. I can't resist. "This is fate, my dear Shazaa. Nothing more."

"Nothing more," he almost growls, and within a breath, his fingertips are just barely grazing the skin of my elbows. I can feel him standing just there, and I can feel the effort he's been putting in to conceal his anguish at my dismissal of his feelings for me. It's such a shock that I tremble. "Nothing more," he says again. "Then, was this fate? Was I meant to be tortured with whatever the hell this is?"

"Shazaa-"

"Is it fate that I'm cursed with that boy's face and half your soul being his?"

"Shazaa, this is complicated-"

"I am here. He is not," he says coolly. "It really is that simple." The brush of his fingertips leave my arms, and take a deep breath, steadying myself before I turn to face him.

"Do I not measure up, then?" he snaps. "If everything is based on some happy end, some fate, then where is mine?" When I say nothing, he draws in closer. "You saved my life. My life." Shazaa shakes his head. "Excuse me, if I'd like to think that you saved it for something."

Just like that, he's gone.

"You could at least have finished stacking," I mumble quietly to myself.

Flew to Windhelm- what did I see?

Jarl Ulfric, Shouting at me

Flew to Morthal

And saw Ravencrone

Saw Skald in Dawnstar

Then flew home!

The girls burst out in fits of laughter, as they stop the hand-clap game. Though little Carrot Top isn't always on beat, she makes up for it in enthusiasm.

I smile to myself, as they prepare for another game, stirring the pot of venison stew.

"Mana." At the call, I and the girls turn to see Segen, which gets the little ladies blushing to themselves and Segen ignoring them, eyes focused on me. "We need to talk."

"What about, Azrael?"

They blush and giggle more at the endearment, as he shifts from foot to foot uncomfortably.

"About the Magistrate's son."

I sigh heavily. Can't they just get along?

"What about Shazaa?"

"He ought to leave," he says, point blank. "There's no reason for him to stay, Mana, and frankly speaking, you're encouraging him by allowing it. He thinks he's got a chance with you, when he doesn't."

I drop the ladle in the pot and cross my arms.

"And, who are you saying does?" He works his jaw thoughtfully, challenging my question with his gaze. "Mo'preant. Hear me. You've told him who you are to him. He's aware." Segen nods, and I lean in, trying to ensure that he understands me. "He would be here, if it really pressed him to."

Segen's eyes harden stubbornly and he worries at his lower lip, searching for something to say.

"So, what about Shazaa Ibn Rahaim?" he counters. "Why is he even still here?"

"Because, he doesn't pose us a threat," I say after a moment, picking my words carefully. "And, just like the other people housed here, because he needs time to figure things out. We can give him that." My brow furrows. "Why am I having to explain this to you?"

Segen says nothing, glowering even more.

A heavy pounding at the door breaks the tension between us, and he storms off, tossing a hissy "I'll get it" over his shoulder.

"Let Argis or Shazaa get it, Segen; don't just open my door!" But, it creaks anyway, his big show of defiance. "You. Stir," I grunt to neither of the girls in particular, and abandon the stew to make sure my son's angst hasn't killed him. "Segen, gods damn it, I thought I told you not to-"

"-open the door when you don't know who is on the other side!" Jarsha seethes. I stop in my tracks, appalled at the sight before me: Segen suspended in midair as my brother holds him up by his shoulders, jostling him a bit. "Do you know what dark times you live in, Segen?! This door could be the difference between life and death! I could've been a bandit! I could have been some beast!"

"Who says you're not?" Segen mutters.

Jarsha sighs heavily and sets his nephew down, before Segen braces against his legs and throws his arms about his waist. Jarsha ruffles his hair and looks over at me, in the doorway.

"Hello there, sweet sister," he said, with a sheepish half-smile. "Room for one more?"

"They dismissed everyone at the College?" Lynette gasps. Jarsha assents with a grim nod. "By the Nine."

"It's too dangerous to keep the students and faculty in Winterhold. Not with the upswing in dragon activity."

"Upswing?" Argis asks, brows knit. "What's the cause of it?"

Jarsha pauses in gulping down more stew and glances around the table, everyone's faces watching his expectantly.

"You mean, you really don't know?" He looks to me, aghast. "Not even you, mish'kirai?"

"What's that mean, 'Not even you'?" I bristle, impatiently. "What's happened, Jarsha?"

He gives another glances around the table, shaking his head bewilderedly.

"After five years, the Dragonborn has resurfaced. The dragons are reacting to him."

There is a long silence at the dinner table, before everyone explodes, all at once.

"Outrageous!"

"How? When?"

"Who is it?"

"It's a hoax; it has to be a hoax!"

"Where's he been all these years?"

"Where is he now?"

The only silent mouths and somber faces are Jarsha's, Argis', mine and Segen's. I glance slowly at my brother, my eyes asking the question of the truth. He nods in confirmation, and that's all that's needed to overwhelm me.

I look to where Segen sits, only to find him staring at a faraway point distractedly, hands folded and a small grin playing across his lips, as if he's just won some great battle.

Soon, all the outbursts converge into one: a demand for more details.

"He's been in the Solitude prison these past few days, by mandate of Jarl Elisif." I clench my fists, my skin crawling for him- for fear of what might have happened to him. "In a public hearing, he was charged with some hundred offenses from his youth, and also claimed noble base-birth."

"Noble?" questions Danica. "Noble, by whom?"

"By the late High King."

The tables gasps collectively.

"And. . . and it's been proven, then?"

"It's the truth," Jarsha nods. Another collective gasp. "He went on to claim that Elisif tried to bribe him out of declaring the nature of his birth the night before the hearing." Another sharp gasp. "He very nearly managed to rile all of the slummers of Solitude into rioting against the noble class."

"Ye gods," murmurs Osmund. They are all in awe of a man none of them even know. "What happened next?"

My brother shrugs, looking at me.

"Nothing now. He's back in the Solitude gaols. They tried to get him to Shout to prove that he is who he said he is. But, he claimed that it would only bring more attention from the dragons. So, word's been sent to High Hrothgar. The Greybeards are meant to confirm or deny his claims."

I barely hear his last words, having already left the table and slipped upstairs to my room.

It's quiet there; quiet enough for me to think.

Quiet enough for me to pray.

"Marrick," I murmur, eyes shut and hands clasped. "Oh, Marrick."

"Worried for your Bastard King?" I turn and lock eyes with Shazaa, exhaling smoke from his nostrils as he perches on a corner of my writing desk. "She's going to kill him, Rontu." I shut my eyes against his words and shake my head. "She's going to kill him, and the best thing you could ever do, for you and that boy, is to choose me. I can protect you."

"Shazaa-" I scoff, almost rudely. I've had it up to here with Shazaa's claim on me. "Shazaa, I am a Thane. I know you aren't used to women in positions of power; I come from the same place. But, I don't need-"

"I've been reinstated."

I blink hard and long, and recoil, not certain of what I'm hearing.

"Come again?"

"Your brother did not only have news for you." He holds up a letter; brandishes it, his grip tight and eyes reverent. "He brought this. For me." He pauses. "From my father."

My gaze flies from the parchment to Shazaa's, and he crosses over to place the letter into my hands.

"Read it."

I do.

Middas, the 19th of Rain's Hand, Year 206 of the Fourth Era

To my Son,

Please find enclosed with this letter the seal of Himself, the Magistrate of Taneth.

At this line alone, I recoil in shock and read it over.

Understand that with it comes the responsibilities of a Tanethain Envoy. The Traitor, called "Saadia", and identified as Iman of House Suda, has been delivered to into the jurisdiction of Himself by our esteemed Alik'r Captain Kematu.

From the Captain's personal account, Himself has found it self-evident that any traitorous deeds enacted by Shazaa Ibn Rahaim were unintentional and therefore, pardonable. Thus, his Exile, imposed seven years ago by Himself, has been lifted and all of his titles reinstated. Himself now deems this one's duty the protection of Taneth's interests, particularly regarding the case of Skyrim's true High King.

Himself, Magistrate Giaz Ibn Rahaim has found a kingsmoot in Skyrim favorable for the future of Taneth and the rest of the known world. He requires your covert meeting with Marrick Torrygson to establish him with the full support of the Free City of Taneth, as well as many other capitals of Hammerfell.

Himself proposes this one's trip to Solitude as Official Acting Ambassador of Taneth, under the pretense of potential treatise with the False Queen and the Conquerous and Warmongering High Elves of the Aldmeri Dominion, who Himself names our Enemy.

With the union of Ourselves with His Grace, the Stray King and potentially the powers of Ulfric Stormcloak, Himself hopes to reverse the foul work of the Dominion, thusly seeking a prosperous future for both Skyrim and Great Hammerfell as Allies.

As Mandated by Himself,

Giaz Pelan Ibn Rahaim, Magistrate of the Free City of Taneth

Beneath the loopy signature and the careful writing of Giaz's scribe is a small line, in hastened scrawl:

I have missed you more than words could ever say.

"Shazaa. . ." I whisper numbly. "Shazaa, this is. . ."

"It came with this." He offers up a lacquered stamp; the seal of the city. "It's all true." His back straightens, shoulders broaden right before my waking eyes. "I am the Ambassador of the Free City of Taneth. I am the heir of Himself, her Magistrate, and take his name as my own."

"Shaza. . ." I murmur again, because my mind is still reeling.

"I can protect you, now," he tells me. "I can protect you and your boy."

I find my voice, quick as ever.

"Protect us? Protect me?"

"All you need do is say yes."

I scoff disbelievingly.

"Have you forgotten who I am?" I ask him, outright. "I'm no shy maid. I seen every nook and cranny of this world, as well as all its demons. I don't need protection from any man. I don't need a husband to survive here; this life, this me, is more than enough for my boy and I." I shake my head, grinning, "It's not frowned upon, as it would be in Hammerfell. I can be a woman and Thane in my own right here."

"I don't mean to say I could protect you in Skyrim," he says slowly.

My eyes travel up to meet his.

"What, then," I start to ask, but have to clear my throat, "did you mean to say?" By his look, by the glimmer in those golden eyes, I know exactly what he meant to say. "I'm not going back to Hammerfell," I say darkly.

"It's your home!" he argues, "It isn't right, your being out here alone. The courts all understood why you left; your home was burned, and your brothers, lost. You've found them. You can return to Hegathe; maybe Taneth. Those eyes soften. "You can return with me."

My anger drifts.

"Oh, Shazaa," I whisper, and shake my head. "You know that that's something I could never do."

"Your place is there, your blood-" he urges, "You boy's blood is that of the great City of Hegathe. The old lines of our people; he is a Redguard warrior."

I smile coldly.

"He is also a Nord," I tell him. Shazaa's face twists in scorn. "I would not have him deny his own blood. I would not have my son deny the part of him that is King."

His expression grows incredulous.

"You're after the throne of Skyrim?" he asks, dazed. "You've had such designs? To reign in that Bastard King, using his bastard son?"

My hand is quick and sharp.

"Don't be stupid," I seethe. "How could you ever dare think that of me? Whatever Marrick makes of his fate has nothing to do with me. But, it is not in me to part father from son and son from father; it isn't right. No," I add, thinking on the future. "My son will stay in his father's country. And he will learn how to be a great man. And, as for me, I will keep my anonymity." I cut my eyes at him and shake my head. "Their future together is more than I could ever want in a throne."

Shazaa watches me for a while, unsure of what to say, his eyes level.

"I understand," he says softly. And I can tell from his face that he truly, finally does. "I suppose I ought to leave, then."

"Leave?"

Just like Kematu.

"Just so." He waves the letter. "I have the Magistrate's business to attend to, now."

All of a sudden, I am flooded with the though of Marrick. I am plagued with the idea of him imprisoned by Elisif the Fair, and it wounds me deeper than I could have ever imagine. What kingsmoot? What kingsmoot, when we can't even be certain that there will be a king to post up? My gears of my mind get to turning, and my eyes fall on Shazaa's retreating form.

The chance to see him- in person, alive, the chance to ensure that he is alright overwhelms me.

"Shazaa!" I bark out, unable to stop myself. He pauses in the doorway and turns to me. "There is one favor that I. . . that I must ask of you."