Warning - mention of necrophilia. It's nothing graphic, but it's there.

Chapter 9: The Mother We Share

It is after midnight when four, road-weary assassins approach the Black Door. The Sea of Ghosts laps at the shore line, and frost-coated blades of grass snap beneath their leather boots. But an unnatural stillness permeates the air near the Sanctuary. There is no sound coming from the Black Door. The otherworldly breathing has faded into nothing, and there is no distant beating of an infernal heart calling the assassins back home to Mother.

"Someone has put up wards," Pontius says. "A smart move, considering the current state of things."

Lumen's heart begins to hammer as pure adrenaline rushes through her body. These wards were not here when they left. Did the Thalmor attack the Sanctuary? She gasps for breath, needing to speak, to scream, but she chokes on her fear.

"Everything is fine, tidbit." Arnbjorn lays a hand on her shoulder. "Luka cast wards around the Sanctuary when I left."

It is a struggle to regain her composure. Because for a brief moment, everything had come to an end; her home invaded, her siblings slaughtered, and she arrived too late to make a difference. It's such a childish notion, to think that she could prevent the fall of a Sanctuary. If she possessed that kind of strength, then Falkreath wouldn't be a ruin.

Cicero has remained silent, thus far. But there is a grim understanding behind his eyes. If anyone can appreciate the desire to save their family or die trying, it's him.

Once she has regained control of her Thu'um, and she is certain she won't breathe fire, she says, "I'm fine. I should've known Luka would set wards. I just—"

"Assumed the worst," Cicero supplies.

"Yes."

Her fears dissipate when the Black Door creaks open, and a familiar blond head pokes out from behind it. Luka gasps when he lays eyes on Lumen and Cicero. "Oh, good! It's you! I thought the mud crabs had tripped my wards again. Those beasts are a damn nuisance. But now you're home, and I can take my wards down, and Cyril can finally cast a glamor on our Sanctuary and— Oh, it's just so good to see you!"

He continues his babbling as he greets everyone; hugging Lumen, Cicero, and even Arnbjorn— who surprisingly accepts the gesture with minimal grouching. But when Luka reaches Pontius he starts fussing with his robe, unsure of how to greet the newcomer.

"These wards are your doing?" Pontius asks. "They're quite good. I had no idea they were here until I'd walked completely through it. You must be a powerful mage."

"Oh, I don't know about that." Luka waves off the compliment.

The two exchange names as they all file inside the Sanctuary. Cicero and Pontius head to the common area where the rest of the family is gathering. Arnbjorn retreats to his room, citing a need for some time alone. Luka and Lumen linger in the foyer. The Night Mother's presence fills the overlook, and she is not happy. Rather than face Mother so soon, Lumen takes her time in removing her boots and leaving her weapons on a rack.

"Tell me about these glamor charms Cyril plans to use on the Sanctuary." She tosses her traveling pack aside and closes the distance between herself and Luka. "And give me another hug."

"Did you miss me?" he laughs, wrapping his skinny arms around her shoulders.

"You have no idea," she murmurs, unwilling to reveal too much. Every day, she noticed his absence. She hadn't realized how much she'd come to rely on him until he was not around, and she missed him terribly.

Luka seems completely at ease with their closeness, allowing the embrace to linger on as long as she wishes. "I hope you plan to tell me what happened. It's not every day you come home with a new sibling."

"I'll tell you everything, but first I want to hear about these charms," she says, finally pulling away.

"As far as I know, it's a type of magic intrinsic to vampires. Cyril can cast a glamor on himself to make himself appear more alive, or more attractive, or even more terrifying. But he can also cast them over small portions of land. So he can make the door invisible to anyone who isn't a part of this Sanctuary, which is something we should have been doing ages ago, but I certainly didn't know he could do it."

"I didn't know either, but it's a fantastic idea." She lingers in the doorway for a moment, before finally stepping out into the overlook. The Night Mother's presence is warm and comforting, despite her clear anger with her foolish Listener. Mother does not call to her, but at least Lumen can feel her presence again. Even angry, Mother's aura will always comfort her Listener.

Lumen walks to the staircase and looks down into the common area. There, most of the family is gathered around Pontius and Cicero. She expected the majority of the racket would be caused by the Keeper, as it so often is. But it is Pontius who has her brothers and sisters in stitches. The handsome Imperial is regaling his family with a tales of bygone times, and though Lumen would love to listen in, she finds that she could use a little time alone— or spent with a good friend.

"Shall we join them?" Luka's voice pulls her attention away from the commotion below.

"Not yet."

"Do you need to talk, dear?"

"Yeah." She takes a step away from the staircase, opting to take the long way to her chambers. "It's a dreadfully long story. Luckily for you, I have some wine hidden in my bedroom for occasions such as these."

Her bedchamber is dark and cold, but only a for a moment. Luka lifts a hand, and all the candles flare to life, startling her in the process. After a sheepish apology, he begins building a fire while Lumen pours them each a glass of wine. True wine glasses are not common in Skyrim, as the locals are fond of sturdier materials such as wood or clay. But Cicero always said wine did not taste as good in a goblet of clay, and he pilfered some glasses from the Blue Palace when they were last in Solitude.

Lumen empties half the glass in one gulp. "Will you help me out of my armor? I can't do it on my own."

"This is why I stick with robes. They are much easier to get in and out of."

"Easier to get killed in, too," she says, setting the glass down before she begins fussing with her belts.

They lapse into a comfortable silence as he helps her out of her armor. There is a sense of peace that comes from loving someone, and being loved, without any sexual attraction existing between them. Sex is never required with Cicero, or Arnbjorn, but it can be an underlying distraction, and it is a distraction that does not exist with Luka.

When she is stripped down to her soft under armor, she throws herself into a chair near the fireplace. She reaches for her wine glass, while Luka settles into the chair next to her, waiting for her to speak.

"Remember when Cicero and I left the Sanctuary? We were going to find a petitioner?" She glances at Luka, and he nods. "Well, I lied. Sort of— Mother did not speak to me, but I could feel the Sacrament. But it was a trap. The assassins that are hunting us set up a fake Sacrament in Helgen and I fell for it. Cicero was injured as a result, and if Arnbjorn hadn't shown up with he did, we'd probably be dead." Lumen breathes a mirthless laugh as she leans back in her chair. "I thought Cicero was going to kill me."

"He would never—"

"He would've been right to do it," she says, a chill running down her spine at the memory of his rage. "I was dishonest about the Sacrament, and I put my siblings in danger. The Dark Brotherhood has no use for a Listener who lies."

He leans back in the chair. "Why didn't you just tell Cicero you could feel the Sacrament, but that Mother didn't speak?"

"Because I'm an idiot," she snaps, angry with herself. "I didn't want to give him another reason to worry, but I made everything worse."

"Where'd you find the new guy?" he asks, wisely changing the subject.

"Well," she begins, eternally grateful to Luka for shifting the conversation on to other things. If they had continued to speak about her epic mistake, she'd probably start bawling. "We decided to travel through the pine forest just outside of Falkreath, and that's when Arnbjorn noticed someone was in our old Sanctuary. That someone was Pontius."

"What was he doing there?" he asks, alarmed. "I thought it was sealed up!"

"It was," she says, nursing her wine. "He's Brotherhood. He came from the Cheydinhal Sanctuary. I guess he thought he could find us there."

"I suppose if he was looking to reunite with the Dark Brotherhood, Falkreath isn't a bad place to start. But if he knew about Falkreath, then shouldn't he have known to come to Dawnstar?"

"I have no idea. Dawnstar had been empty for ages, so maybe he didn't know about it." Her fingers curl around her wine glass, and she watches the firelight dance across the red liquid within. "Pontius seems loyal enough. He helped us fight the Thalmor assassins. But…"

"Go on," Luka urges. "Anything you have to say will remain between us. I promise."

Lumen takes a deep breath. "Pontius was one of Cicero's siblings when the Cheydinhal Sanctuary was still active. Cicero thought he was dead all this time. But, what bothers me is that Cicero remained in that Sanctuary for ten years, and Pontius never came back. He said it was too dangerous, but I don't buy it."

"When he was telling you this, was it in private or in front of Arnbjorn and Cicero?"

"We've always been within earshot of the others."

"Perhaps you should try to get him alone to question him. He might be more willing to divulge information if it's just you. It will feel less like an interrogation that way."

She slouches in her chair, crossing one foot over the other as she warms her toes by the fire. "Maybe I should have Cicero do it? They knew each other— granted, I don't know how close they were. But maybe he'd rather speak with him."

Luka snorts. "Would you want to tell Cicero why you left him hanging for ten years?"

"Gods, no."

"That settles it, then," Luka says, pleased at having found a solution. "Take him out on a contract or a supply run. Anything. Just get him alone and see if he talks."

"Thank you," she blurts out.

"For what, dear?"

"For listening to me." She leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands. "Now all I have to do is convince Cicero to let me leave the Sanctuary without him shadowing me."

"I'm sure I can distract him."

Lumen glances at Luka, surprised to see a devious smirk curling his mouth. "I'll want details," she says, grinning.

"And you'll have them." He smoothes out his robes as he stands. "Shall we join the others? It sounds like we're missing quite the party."

"Yeah. Go on ahead. I'll be there in a minute."

Lumen twists her freshly washed hair into a messy bun, and dresses in a loose-fitting tunic and a pair of breeches. The sounds of revelry drift down the hallway, but she's not quite ready to face a crowd. Instead of heading to the common area, she makes her way to the overlook where the Night Mother rests, fully prepared to beg for forgiveness if it comes to that.

An otherworldly breeze tugs at the loose strands of Lumen's hair. The Night Mother's presence fills the room, but she holds her silence. She is no different than a patient mother waiting for her errant child to speak.

"Your Listener might be an idiot." She waits for the Night Mother to respond, and when she doesn't, she continues to speak. "I don't know what I expect to happen. I don't know what I need to happen. I just— I don't know how omnipresent you are. But I mislead my brothers. I lied. I lead us into danger, and we almost didn't make it out alive. Maybe they can forgive me, but I can't forgive myself."

Gentle, ethereal fingers touch her cheek. "What do you seek, child?"

Lumen closes her eyes, reveling in the Night Mother's aura. "Absolution."

"You will find it in Yngvild."

A vision flashes in her mind; an Altmer in black robes, surrounded by the reanimated corpses of young women. A sense of disgust settles over her when she sees his hands drift across the bound body of a draugr. The touch is far too intimate to be mistaken for idle curiosity. It isn't difficult to understand why Mother wants him dead.

The visions fade and Mother's presence recedes. Lumen pinches the bridge of her nose, waiting for her head to clear. Mother has never given her visions before, nor has she sent her to kill without speaking to a petitioner first. This is personal, but she doesn't know why. Perhaps the Night Mother has a sense of solidarity toward other corpses or an extreme hatred of necrophiles.

Lumen finally shakes the dizzying haze from her mind, and when she opens her eyes, she finds Pontius watching her. The narrowing of her eyes is almost reflexive. He may be Brotherhood, but he is still a stranger to her.

"Sorry," he says quickly. "I hope I'm not disturbing you."

"Do you need something?"

His mouth thins and his eyes dart from Lumen to the Night Mother. "I never saw her before. Cicero always kept the coffin shut, and before that, she was sealed in a tomb. I never thought I'd be lucky enough to see the Night Mother for myself."

"She's beautiful, isn't she? Cicero tends to her every Fredas, so long as he's home to do it."

Pontius steps closer to the Night Mother's shrine. "He takes his duties very seriously, doesn't he?"

"He does."

"He always did," Pontius laughs. "Any other assassin would've fought against a forced retirement. But not Cicero. He accepted his fate and threw himself into the role of Keeper like he was born for it. Who knows? Maybe he was."

Lumen bites her lip. She and Pontius are as alone as one can get in the Sanctuary, and while she knows she should ask him more important questions, she allows her curiosity to win out. "What was he like? Back then. Before— well, everything."

"Cicero was quiet and intimidating. He had a hard time fitting in because of that. Whenever he'd crack a joke, everyone was too afraid to laugh." Pontius smiles at the memory. "We were all afraid he'd kill us for it. But he's better at that now. Maybe it's the jester persona he's adopted."

"He adopted it well," she says. "I thought he'd been a jester before his life as an assassin until he told me otherwise."

"It's odd, isn't it? The loss of a Sanctuary was devastating, and he lost two in quick succession. Maybe it broke him."

A sudden surge of rage grips her, and before she can spare it a second thought, she's snarling at Pontius. "Cicero is not broken!"

He holds his hands up as he steps away from Lumen. "I'm sorry. I'm not trying to insult him! But what happened changed him. He was alone for a decade! That he came out of that alive and with his mind relatively intact is a miracle. I don't think I would have survived!"

"Why didn't you go back?"

"I thought he was dead," he says in a voice that's far too calm for Lumen's liking. "I thought the Dark Brotherhood had come to an end. So I moved on, and I just kept moving. I went everywhere, from High Rock to Hammerfell. It didn't matter where I was so long as I didn't see those damn black cloaks anywhere." Pontius fidgets with his armor, unable to meet her eyes. "What happened to Cicero was terrible, but—"

"It needed to happen." Cicero rounds the stairs, but he does not approach his siblings. Instead, he folds his arms across his chest and leans back against the stone wall. "If things had gone differently, perhaps Cicero would not have come to Skyrim. Perhaps he would not have found the Listener."

"I regret my actions," Pontius says to Cicero. "I should have come back for you."

"It's in the past," Cicero says, not wishing to discuss it at all. Instead, he turns to Lumen. "Were you communing with Mother? Does she have work for us?"

Lumen swallows hard. It's difficult to believe Cicero is willing to trust her after all that's happened. "She has work for me, specifically. I must atone for my mistakes at Helgen. However, I thought I would take Pontius with me. It would be a chance to get to know him better." Cicero nods his assent, and Lumen turns her attention to Pontius. "So, what do you say?"

Pontius inclines his head. "I am yours, Listener."

"Good," she says, still unnerved by his formality. "We'll leave tomorrow evening. Pack light. We won't be traveling far."

Without another word, she walks passed Pontius and down the hallway toward her chambers. Cicero follows behind her, but he does not speak. Lumen can't stand it, and she breaks the silence when the door clicks shut.

"I am sorry for arguing with Pontius, but—"

"There is no reason to berate him for the actions of his past," Cicero says wearily. "He cannot undo them."

Lumen sits down on the edge of the bed, staring down at her hands. The skin around her nails is chapped and peeling from being shoved inside leather gloves for so long. She doesn't know what to say to Cicero. The peace forged between them in tenuous at best, and she is afraid of shattering it.

Cicero sits down beside her, the bed creaking beneath their combined weight. "Where is Mother sending you?"

"Yngvild," she says. "To kill a necrophiliac necromancer."

"That's a mouthful." Cicero grins, but it fades as quickly as it came. "And you are taking Pontius with you."

"Does that bother you?"

"No," he says— a little too quickly for her liking, but she'll let it slide. "You should be safe with him. He is a skilled fighter. But there is something Cicero ought to tell you about Pontius."

Oh, gods. What could it possibly be? Cicero being serious never bodes well for anyone. "What is it?"

"He and I were— involved. It was many years ago, and obviously, Cicero got over it. But it happened, and Cicero thought you deserved to know about it. If he expects you to be honest with him, then he ought to show you the same courtesy."

"You were?" She bites her lip to keep herself from smiling. Of all the things she expected to come out of his mouth, that was not it. But now that she thinks about it, it does explain the underlying tension between the two. She seriously doubts either of them are over it, but she'll leave it be for now.

Cicero nods. "It wasn't serious. Just something to pass the time. It only lasted a couple of months, and then it ended when Garnag told Cicero that Pontius had died."

"It wasn't serious? I wouldn't say that to Pontius if I were you. Those longing looks he's been throwing at you tell an entirely different story."

"It's been ten years!" he snaps and then winces when he realizes who he's snapping at. "It's been a long time. Cicero has you, and he has Luka. He has no room in his heart for another. He does not want another lover."

"I'm not suggesting you take him to bed," Lumen says, exasperated. How has he not figured this out? He's excellent at reading other people! But perhaps this is simply too personal, and he is avoiding the issue instead of sorting himself out. "I honestly don't know how I would feel if a long-dead lover suddenly appeared and it turned out he wasn't quite so dead. But I'd probably try to avoid dealing with it. It's hard to be vulnerable. It's hard to talk about the things that hurt us. But sometimes it helps."

"That is what Cicero is trying to tell you! There is nothing to discuss! It was a fling!"

Lumen suppresses a sigh. "What if it was more than that for Pontius?"

"Oh, come on. You have seen the man." Cicero rubs his face and falls back onto the bed. He frowns up at the ceiling, pointedly not making eye-contact with Lumen. "Back in Cheydinhal, Pontius could have any brother or sister he wished. All it took was a glance and a smile, and they'd follow him to some dark corner. Pontius only turned his attention my way when no one was left except for me, Rasha, and Garnag. Cicero always assumed he was picked because Pontius had no desire to bed an Orc or a Khajiit."

"So?"

"So it was a relationship of convenience. It was something to pass the time. It was nothing then, and it's nothing now. There's no sense in talking about it."

She knows there's something he's not telling her. Cicero is only dismissive of a subject when it pains him. "I only want to help."

"I know," he sighs. "But I mourned Pontius, and I moved on." He rolls onto his side, his eyes meeting hers. "I would much rather focus on my current lover than one I haven't thought of in years."

Lumen stretches out beside him. "Even if your current lover is a bit of an idiot sometimes?"

"Even so," Cicero says, a warm smile curling his mouth. "Cicero will forgive his Listener of any mental slip-ups along the way. Mind you— there have been many."

"Oh, thanks," she laughs, swatting at him.

Cicero catches her hand and presses a kiss to her knuckles. "You should get some sleep," he murmurs. "Cicero is going to worry about you when you leave, but he will worry less if he knows you are well rested."

The urge to sleep has been nipping at her heels since she returned home. Her thoughts are sluggish, and her body feels heavy, but she has craved this for so long. To just lie in bed with Cicero, talking about everything and nothing for hours. But she cannot deny that he is right in that she should rest.

"All right," she says, squeezing his hand. "Stay with me?"

Cicero smiles. "Always."

A cold wind that portends snow sinks its fangs into her skin, but Lumen pays it no mind. Yngvild is just ahead, and even though she is still far from the entrance, the scent of death hangs heavy in the air. Now that she is there, she realizes this fight could prove more dangerous than anticipated. A Nordic ruin on a frigid island is the ideal spot for a necromancer. It is too cold this far north for flies and other scavengers to gather, and there are no people nearby to complain about the smell. This mage is not going to be pleased when Lumen and Pontius come to evict him.

"Be on your guard, even out here," Lumen says, brushing snowflakes away from her eyelashes. "There will be traps."

"I'll d- d- do my best," Pontius says through chattering teeth. "I c- can't feel my hands. Perhaps you can use me as b- bait."

She looks over her shoulder at Pontius. Even though he is bundled in as many cloaks as he can carry, he is shivering uncontrollably. A small smile tugs at her mouth. When she was new to Skyrim, she was always freezing, but she eventually grew used to the cold.

"It'll be warmer inside the ruin." And only because she feels sorry for him, she adds, "Walk faster. It will help."

Once they are inside, he removes the heavy cloaks and hangs them on a broken sconce. He ties his long hair back with a strip of leather, all while sneering at his surroundings. It's one of the more unkempt ruins Lumen has seen so far. Not that any of the other ruins have been clean, but this one is a bit lived in. There are human remains tossed into the far corner of the small foyer, and scattered throughout the hall that leads deeper into the ruin.

"Walk lightly," she says as she begins to inch down the slope into the cave. "I don't know much about freshly reanimated corpses, but I know a bit about draugr, and they're senses are better than you'd think."

"A what?"

"Draugr. They're magically reanimated corpses that inhabit Skyrim's ancient ruins. They protect the ruins from intruders. They're easy to take down— especially with fire."

Pontius smirks. "I'll take the lead, then."

Lumen allows it, only because she doesn't want him at her back. She'd rather have him somewhere where she can keep an eye on him. If that means he'll stand in between her and the draugr, all the better.

They encounter their first draugr soon enough. A bolt of flame and a strike with his sword is all it takes for the draugr's body to crumble. Pontius pokes at the remains with his foot, fascinated by whatever magic makes them work, but they soon move on to another chamber and encounter more draugr— all of them female. Lumen's stomach churns as her mind torments her with unwanted thoughts of what the necromancer has been doing to these poor corpses.

They enter a room which contains a table, a bookshelf, and a few niches carved into the walls. The niches were resting places for draugr, but they are empty now. Lumen examines the area and comes across a leather-bound journal. The name Arondil is written on the first page, along with a catalog of entry dates. The pages reek of chemicals and death, but the scent is not nearly as disgusting as the necromancer's private thoughts.

"Shall I burn it for you?"

The offer warms her heart. "Not yet," she says, dropping the book in her pack. "There might be more. I want to burn the lot."

Pontius chews on his bottom lip. "What did it say?" he asks, his voice quieter this time. "I want to know, and I don't want to know. Call it morbid curiosity."

"Arondil plans to search for lost women and bring them back here," she tells him. "He's already captured and killed one. But he wants more. Men like him always want more."

"Men like him?" he asks, edging into another corridor. "Have you known many necrophiles?"

"No. But I know killers," she whispers, not wishing to be caught unawares by a draugr. "The fantasy of his deeds will only sustain him for so long. But eventually the memory will fade, and he'll need that rush again. He'll need the real thing so he can create a new fantasy. It's an addiction, and he won't stop until he's dead."

His eyes are full of questions, but he does not give voice to them. A cold burst of fetid wind tells them they are getting closer to their prey. They walk in silence, with Pontius in the lead and Lumen following him deeper into the bowels of the cave. It is becoming difficult to breathe. The oppressive stench of rotting flesh makes the air feel thick, and there is an odd moisture that clings to her armor and coats her throat.

It isn't hard to guess why Mother sent them here. Yngvild is close to the Sanctuary, and its occupant poses a danger to the women of the Dark Brotherhood. But she wonders if there were petitioners somewhere. She wonders if the petitioners were, in fact, the spirits of the women Arondil has been abusing. If that's the case, then there would be no reason to bother with a traditional contract. But it's not like she'll ever know for certain. She could ask, but she doubts she'd get an answer. The Night Mother isn't big on answering questions.

They pause just outside a large throne room. Lumen clenches her jaw when she gets a good look at the man inside. An Altmer of middle age sits upon a dark throne, surrounded by his so-called servants. An old rage alights within her. While he is no Thalmor, he is no different than they are. They think they can own anything and everything. He hasn't a care for who these women were. He's just a parasite who takes what isn't his.

"You're no better," comes a derisive, inner voice, but Lumen pushes it away. She's not a good person. Never will be. But there are lines even she won't cross.

A gentle touch to her shoulder pulls her from her caustic thoughts. Pontius is concerned, but he is not stupid enough to question the Listener. Instead, he nods to the throne room and asks, "Ready?"

Lumen nods and the two assassins spring into action.

The undead are easily dispatched with fire and blade. But the relatively simple task of killing draugr is made all the more difficult with Arondil firing spells at them. "Deal with the dead," Lumen shouts. "I'll handle the freak!"

Pontius barks a laugh. "I'm on it!" he calls out. "Shout if you need help!"

"Savage Bosmer," Arondil growls, his hands alight with snapping electricity. "You're no better than the uneducated idiots of Dawnstar. I wouldn't expect anyone to understand. My intellectual pursuits are far beyond any of your feeble imaginings."

"Blah, blah, blah. That's all I hear." Lumen dodges the bolts of lightning, and even though her skin is prickling from the proximity of the magic, she does not falter. She knows the pain of electricity, but she also knows that she can survive it— and worse. She's fought dragons, draugr, and numerous Thalmor wizards more powerful than Arondil could ever hope to be. He's not worthy of her fear.

Pontius comes to stand beside her, spell and sword at the ready. His chest rises and falls as he catches his breath, and his curly hair has come free of its binding. But the draugr are dead, and all that's left is this miserable waste of an elf standing before them.

"Do I trust you? Are you safe?" Lumen catches his eye, and Pontius smiles at her. She cannot see anything other than familial fondness in that expression, and she thinks that maybe — just maybe — she can accept his presence at her side.

Arondil is still talking. Madness and arrogance have made him an easy target. "You can't sass me if you're not breathing. I think I will prefer you that way," he snarls, lifting his hand and summoning another arc of lightning.

"I could say the same," Lumen says, and then she flings her daggers at him. The blades sink into his abdomen, and his spells wink out as he falls to his knees. Severely wounded, but not dead. She approaches the cowering Altmer and kicks him onto his back.

"Please," he gurgles. "Mercy."

"Death is the only mercy you'll know from me." Lumen yanks her daggers from his stomach, watching the blood gush from the wounds and flow onto the stone floor. "I cannot say what Sithis will have of you. Will you linger in the Void? Will you be sent to some realm of Oblivion for punishment? I wonder…"

"He deserves to become Molag Bal's plaything considering what he's done."

Lumen smirks. "I'll agree with that," she says, and then she plunges her dagger directly into the mage's heart.

A heavy silence fills the tomb as Lumen cleans her daggers on Arondil's robes. With her weapons back in place, she offers a silent prayer to Sithis. The atmosphere of the ruin lifts somewhat. There is no heaviness to the air, and while the ruin still reeks of death, it isn't as overwhelming as it once was.

The two assassins do not speak as they explore the throne room. Lumen picks up two more journals, and an assortment of soul gems for Luka and Babette to squabble over. In the chamber just off the throne room, she finds a fourth journal, more gems, and most disturbingly— a bed with skeletal remains in it.

"Sick bastard." Lumen drops the journals on the bed. The books would probably fetch a good price. The world is full of miscreants eager to read the dark deeds of a deranged mind. But she reckons the world will be a better place if she just erases all evidence of Arondil and his sick desires. He doesn't deserve to be remembered.

"Shall I burn the bed, Listener?"

Lumen nods and Pontius engulfs the bed in flames.

The short walk back to the Sanctuary is made more pleasant by the sun warming their backs. The gentle breathing of the Black Door welcomes them home, but the pair of assassins linger by the seaside, watching the distant ships coming and going from Dawnstar's port. Pontius seems content to stand with Lumen, even though he gives in to the occasional shiver. A warm day in northern Skyrim is still colder than mid-winter in Cyrodiil.

"You fought well today," Lumen says, breaking the silence.

"Thank you, Listener." He inclines his head. "It feels good to be doing the Night Mother's bidding again. I didn't realize how much I missed it until now. For the longest time, I felt like I was just— adrift. Lost. But I don't feel so lost anymore."

She smiles as she gazes out at sea. "I'd like to talk to you about a personal matter."

"All right," he says with some hesitation.

"Cicero told me you two were together once," she says, seeing no reason to beat around the bush. "I've heard his account of your time together. He was a little vague on the details, though, and I was hoping you might enlighten me."

"I—" Pontius gapes at her. "It was a very long time ago. But— anything you want to know, I'll tell you."

Lumen is inordinately pleased to have caught him off guard. "Do you still have feelings for him?"

"As I said, it was a long time ago. I thought Garnag had killed him, just as he tried to kill me. A lot of time has passed since then and now, and I—" he takes a breath, preferring to look out at sea rather than at Lumen. "I don't know. It's easy to get over someone when you think they're dead and you're half a world away. But seeing him again was unexpected, and I admit that it's stirred up some dust." He kicks at a pebble, his eyes focused on the ground. "I know you two are together. I have no intention of messing that up."

"Your arrival has stirred up quite a few emotions for Cicero, too. He denies it, of course. But I've been with him long enough that I can tell when something's not right." She tilts her head, observing him. "I hear you were a bit of a scoundrel."

A startled laugh escapes him. "A bit, but I don't see what this has to do with Cicero and me."

"He thinks you picked him last. He believes whatever happened between you was based on desperation and no real affection."

Pontius opens his mouth to respond, but no words come out. He sighs heavily and runs his hands through his messy hair. "No wonder he's been so snappish," he finally says. "He's wrong, though."

"I thought so." She steps closer to him, forcing him to meet her eyes. "Talk to him, will you? I can't stand to see him moping about."

He scowls at her, as if he suspects a trap. "You— you're not mad? Or jealous?"

"I'm not a child," she says tersely. "I'm not going to lash out at you for having feelings. My only concern is for his well being. I just want Cicero to be happy. He needs to know that he meant something to you— that he was more than just a warm body."

Pontius scrubs at his face. The man is usually so unflappable, but now he's completely off-balance. "Damn," he says, clearly frustrated. "He wasn't my last choice. He was my first. But I was too intimidated to approach him. He was one of our best assassins! I didn't think I was good enough! I was nothing more than a mediocre assassin who'd been lucky enough to be born with a pretty face. That's the only reason I could get close to my kills. I couldn't sneak to save my life! I didn't think he respected me, and I certainly didn't think he'd want me."

"There's no reason to feel intimidated now. You've obviously honed your skills as an assassin, and you should be proud of yourself— and you should be telling this to Cicero. Not me."

"You say that like it's easy," he sighs. "I tried not to bring feelings into it. Cicero wasn't the type for feelings. You didn't know him then. He was different. There was a coldness to him. He's still cold when it comes to me."

Lumen waves her hand in the air. "Cicero only does that when his defenses are up. Trust me, that man is downright mushy to those he cares about."

Pontius fusses with his cloak. "I'll think about it," he says weakly. "I mean— I will do it, I just need some time to build up the courage to approach him. I don't know if you've noticed, but I can be a bit of a coward."

"You can't run forever because sooner or later I'll force you two to talk." She grins at him to lessen the bite of her words. "I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm not a patient woman."

"I picked up on that," he says, laughing nervously. "I promise I will speak to him. Just— give me a day or two?"

"A day or two. But if you stall I'll have everyone in the Sanctuary calling you Hortensius from here on out."

He narrows his eyes, but there is a grin playing on his lips. "Oh, you are cruel," he purrs, his confidence returning. "I like that."

"You'll like it less when I make good on that threat," she teases.

Neither speak as they watch a flock of gulls come in to rest on the sun-warmed rocks, but then Lumen remembers the whole purpose of this venture. She meant to question Pontius further about why he didn't return to Cheydinhal. But a pang of guilt hits her when she thinks of how their last conversation turned into a bit of a shouting match. He's a Dark Brother, despite the mistakes of his past, and he deserves a warmer welcome than the one she gave.

"I shouldn't have shouted at you before," she says suddenly. "I can't imagine what you went through when the Dark Brotherhood was falling apart. I don't blame you for not wanting to return to a dead Sanctuary."

Pontius nods, silently accepting her apology. "I thought about going home every day for the last ten years, but I— I was too scared to try. I hated myself for it."

"You're home now, brother. That's all that matters."

His head snaps up at that, a look of genuine surprise on his face. Slowly — cautiously — a smile appears. There is a wetness to his eyes, but no tears fall. "I'm sorry," he says, the words coming out in a rush of breath. "I missed this. Having a family. I suppose that sounds silly…"

"It's not silly at all," she says, curling her fingers around his wrist, and leading him home.

Notes: Initially, this chapter had smut, and action, and more smut. But then… exhaustion took over, and I decided the smut could be saved for a later chapter. (Sorry!) I decided to focus on character relationships instead. Lumen and Luka's friendship is near and dear to my heart. She and Cicero needed to talk (even if he is being a little touchy about things), and then there's the unknown that is Pontius. Lumen doesn't deal well with strangers, so I thought it could be fun and interesting to see how they play off each other. They're getting along better than I expected, all things considered.

The plot will advance more in the next chapter, I promise. However, I don't know how soon I will post the next chapter. It's not finished, and I've been battling some health problems which have finally advanced to the point where I need surgery to fix them. However, once I break free from the fog of pain medication, I'll probably spend a lot of my recovery writing. I think it will be a much needed escape.