I woke with a start, bolting upright as my eyes wildly glanced around the room, searching for whatever danger haunted my mind and caused my heart to race. My fingers clenched at the wool blankets tangled about my legs. Fear saturated my every thought. Something had been chasing me. Something had held me in its cold, hard grip. Something with red eyes and reaching fangs and throat slit by a skilled hand.

"I'm glad you're awake."

I started, twisting around to face the dark figure perched in the doorway not far from my head. I'd chosen not to sleep in the barracks with the rest of the Blades, afraid that I would murmur something unsafe for them to hear, and had instead made my bed in the stables close to Shadowmere. Red eyes stared at me from the doorway. I began to reach inconspicuously for my sword. Just as my fingers closed over the hilt, the figure stepped forward into a patch of moonlight, revealing its identity.

"Othrelos," I hissed into the darkness, releasing the blade. "What are you doing here? You're going to get yourself killed!"

"I have a message from the Grey Fox," the Dunmer replied, his every muscle tense as he prepared to leap away at any sign of discovery from outside.

"I'm not with the Guild anymore," I said. "Take your message somewhere else."

"You can never quit the Guild, and you know it. You always come back, one way or another."

I growled my disagreement. Amusei would get it for this.

"The Fox says there are people looking for you," Othrelos said, ignoring my irritation.

"I've already been found by them," I muttered back. "The Fighters Guild wanted to know I was alive, that's all."

"The Fox says it's not the Fighters Guild."

I froze at the thief's words. My anger dissipated, replaced by caution.

"Not the Guild?" I whispered. "Who?"

"He doesn't know yet, but he's worried they might be… unwelcome acquaintances you made in the past."

My heart thudded quickly as the implications of Othrelos' words sank in. The Dark Brotherhood, looking for me after all these years? Did they know who I was, or did they simply think me to be another target to eliminate?

"Thank you, Othrelos. I will be more careful from now on," I said carefully, keeping my anxiety from his keen, red eyes. The Dunmer nodded, glancing around quickly one last time.

"The Fox also wishes to let you know that the final assignment has been completed, and that your belongings have been recovered from the Imperial Prison. When you next come to the Imperial city, they will be delivered to you." I nodded my understanding. "Do you have anything to relay back?" the elf asked, and I paused, thinking.

"Tell the Fox I am grateful," I said slowly. "Tell him that if he continues to help me it may be dangerous, but that I would be greatly in his debt."

"And what would you have him do?"

I paused, thinking again. Could I really ask Amusei to do this? If it was the Brotherhood after me, looking into their activities could result in death – and worse – for those doing the looking. Unless it was a Murderer or some other low rank, chances were their skill would highly outclass anything the Thieves Guild had to offer.

"I would have him find the names of these… acquaintances for me," I said finally, "but no more. If they are who he suspects, they are very dangerous and will not hesitate to use violence against those they deem threats or spies."

Othrelos nodded.

"I will tell him so," he said, and then he stepped back into the darkness and was gone. I rose and looked out across the courtyard for him, but could find no trace of his presence. Othrelos' skill at disappearing, after all, rivalled my own.

I slept through the changing of the guard, waking late. Baurus and Martin were already in their places in the Great Hall as I walked in, the former gazing worriedly upon the latter as he gingerly thumbed through the pages of the Mysterium Xarxes. I stifled a yawn as I walked up.

"Glad to see some of us got some sleep last night," I said, eyeing the lack of dark bruises under Martin's eyes. Baurus looked up quickly, but Martin took the time to finish reading the page he was on before greeting me with this concerned, blue eyed stare.

"You didn't sleep well, friend?" he questioned, and I shrugged awkwardly.

"I don't seem sleep very well these days, it seems." I avoided the knowing, questioning look Baurus gave me. Martin's expression grew shadowed.

"Yes, I… understand that." He put the Mysterium Xarxes down, silent. I was about to ask Martin what he meant when I noticed Baurus studying me and my equipment.

"Is Jauffre sending you out on patrol?" he asked, puzzled. I shook my head.

"No. I think I've put too much of a kink in his knickers for him to trust putting me on patrol." A ghost of a smile haunted my lips briefly before I sobered again. "Caroline and I are escorting Llensi to Bruma, and from there Llensi and I will ride on alone to Chorrol."

Two pairs of eyes frowned at me.

"But you've only just returned," Baurus protested at the same time Martin asked, "Why must you go to Chorrol?"

I gave an amused half smile as the two glanced at each other in quickly recovering surprise.

"Apologies, Sire," Baurus said with a respectful dip of his head. Martin frowned a little at the display of rank and formality, but said nothing as he turned to regard me once more. Yet even so, I could see the disgruntlement in his posture.

"Why must you go to Chorrol?" he asked again. I gave a tight lipped sigh and settled my standard issue steel bow more comfortably across my shoulders.

"The woman who was brought here yesterday – Llensi Llaram – is an Apprentice and courier of the Fighters Guild. She was looking for me to confirm my survival and pass on a message. The Guild Master wishes me to return to headquarters – which is not surprising considering the mess this province has become recently – and headquarters are in Chorrol, so I go there."

"But we need you here," Baurus said. I looked on him apologetically.

"I've been commanded by the head of my order, the Master of my Guild," I said. "And even were he not my superior, he is my very dear friend. He deserves to know I'm safe."

"So send him a message," he replied sourly, crossing his arms with a sudden frown.

"I would," I said with a sharp glance at him and an equally ill turning of temper. "Were my messenger not a prisoner requiring escort to leave."

Baurus backed down, shamefaced.

"But you will come back to us?" Martin's voice was soft, even more so than usual. There was something desperate hidden in the depths of his ice coloured eyes, something I couldn't quite interpret. I sighed again, slowly.

"I don't know, Martin. I'll try. Oblivion knows what's going on outside Cloud Ruler, or if Jauffre will even let me return after what I put him through yesterday, but I'll do my best."

"I'll talk to Jauffre," Baurus said determinedly. "I'll make sure there's a bed for you here."

I smiled at him gratefully and then looked down, agitatedly settling my straps again. The silence began to stretch out between us. Nobody wanted to say goodbye. Nobody wanted to admit this might be the last parting.

"…I have to go," I said quietly. "Llensi deserves to get out of here."

"Of course," Martin replied, his voice just as subdued. He rose, standing beside Baurus as he faced me. "Take care, my friend."

"You too, Martin."

We clasped each other's forearms in a gesture of companionship, and then stepped back away from each other. My eyes lifted further to meet Baurus', and my words failed me. What could I say? Thank you for giving me the chance to prove myself. Thank you for standing by my side. I will miss laughing with you.

"…Take care, Baurus," I said eventually, grasping his arm as I had Martin's. He nodded to me, his eyes never leaving mine.

"May Talos guide you, Sara."

We strode up to the doors of the Chorrol guild hall, or, rather, I strode up. Llensi shuffled.

"That worried, eh?" I asked as I glanced at her pinched face.

"You didn't see him," she said, her voice an anxious whisper. Pursing my lips at her less than motivational behaviour, I opened the door and stepped through.

Sabine, and the Orc brothers, Lum and Kurz, sat enjoying a meal at the guild hall table. The porter was standing nearby, listening in on their conversations with a good-natured smile.

Lum, sitting across from the door, was the first to see me.

"Sara!" he cried, jumping up and crossing over from where he had been sitting to envelope me in a bone crushing bear hug before anything else could be done.

"Hello to you, too," I coughed out, a smile on my lips as he lifted me up into the air with ease. I was half Lum's size, after all. Even with my legs dangling I reached up only to his chest.

"Put her down – you're going to break her!" his brother scolded, but, when the Orc released me, he, too, pulled me into a similar, albeit gentler, hug. Lum laughed and pounded me on the back as Kurz released me. I tried to ignore the sensation of my teeth clacking together and my breath being beaten from me as he did so.

"Break her? This is the Hero of Kvatch we're talking about!" Lum winked at me. "Gave those daedra something to think about, didn't ya? And in sensible armour for once, too."

"The armour wasn't my choice," I gasped out as my breath returned, although my eyes twinkled in merriment. "And enough with that 'hero' nonsense. I just did my job."

"Right, because we all know saving what was left of the city was so in the contract," Sabine said from where she'd risen from her chair at the guild hall's table. She was smiling too, and stepped forward to lay an affectionate hand on my shoulder. "Welcome back."

"…Sara?"

Everyone quieted, six pairs of eyes trained at the top of the staircase where Modryn Oreyn stared down at me. He was a wreck.

His eyes, red though they were to begin with, bore the marks of restless sleep, and the shadows under his eyes were deep. His hair was down, giving the illusion of locks that were much longer than they were as they curled about his ears. His armour was gone. Dark stubble coated his jaw.

There was silence in the room for a moment more, and the he descended the stairs, crossed the floor, and stood before me, hands quivering at his sides as if he were holding himself from striking me. Sabine stepped back out of his way quickly. Red eyes searched mine. Then, almost tenderly, he reached forward and drew me to him.

"I thought you were dead," he said, his voice trembling with hidden emotion. I stood still, shocked by this outward display of affection, of… weakness, as Modryn himself would put it. Always put up a strong front. Never let them see your injuries. I slowly raised my hands and returned his embrace unsurely, utterly confused.

"I'm here now, Modryn," I said, my cheek against his shoulder. "I'm back."

I felt him tense the moment before he moved. Grabbing my shoulders, he roughly shoved me back, holding me at arm's length as he stared into my eyes.

"Why didn't you let us know you were alive?" he demanded, his voice loud and angry. He gave me a shake. "Two weeks, two fetching weeks after you go to Kvatch, and you still don't even think about what we may imagine when we hear the city's been sacked? And then you go running off on whatever fool adventure you've gotten into that s'wit head of yours, and don't even bother to let us know you've survived?"

"I'm sorry, Modryn, I––"

"You'd better be sorry, you pathetic excuse for a champion! By Akatosh, if you ever pull something like this again I'll––"

Modryn stopped, glancing around the room and apparently realizing we weren't alone.

"What are you all staring at?" he snapped at the others. "Haven't you got your duties to attend to? I'm still waiting on that missive, Carius." The porter jumped at being singly addressed, gave a quick salute, and disappeared. The others made similarly quick exits. "That's better," Modryn said with a snort before turning back to me. "Now you," he said darkly, "have got some explaining to do."

We ended up at Modryn's desk in his office upstairs, I with my back to the stairs, and Modryn across from me with a couple bottles of mead he'd taken from the guild hall's store. I watched him, still very bemused by his previous behaviour, although he'd returned utterly to the Modryn I knew before. He sat and slid a bottle across the desk. I took it, and we opened them and drank in silence. Eventually his gaze found mine.

"Why did you lie to me?" he asked. I stared down at the desk, studying the grain of its wood.

"I didn't want you involved," I said. "Didn't want to make you a target."

Modryn scowled.

"The whole fetching province's involved. Sara. You'll tell me what's going on."

I twirled the bottle between my fingers, buying time to organize my thoughts.

"…When I was here before this all started," I finally began. "No one knew who had assassinated Emperor Uriel or his sons. I didn't know who to trust, so I trusted no one." I saw the angry hurt in his eyes when I glanced up and looked down again. "I didn't believe you were involved – I would have set my life against it, in fact – but not all the lives I was handling were my own. And it was as I said: I didn't want to get you needlessly involved. Our battle against the Mythic Dawn is difficult enough knowing who they are. To bring a faceless enemy to your doorstep would have been unforgivable on my part."

"The Mythic Dawn? They're the ones who––?"

Modryn didn't have the chance to finish his question. A fireball ripped through one of the banisters, sending bits of wood flying and scorching my cheek. I leaped up, heart pounding.

"To arms!" Modryn roared, drawing his mace.

"You're not armoured!" I shouted after him, but there was no time to say more. The fire tore through the books that lined the shelves on the walls and proceeded to consume the chest sitting on the floor nearby. I called up my magic to try and reverse the flame, but it responded by eagerly reaching for me with snapping tongues of flame. I leaped back, my heart in my throat. Magickal flame. Half the office was on fire now, the heat overwhelming. My hands shook with fear.

"Sara! Look out!"

I turned in time to see a figure barrelling up the stairs towards me, mace raised high. I ducked under the first strike, kicking out at the assailant's daedric armoured knees, cursing my weakness as my shaky blow glanced off the metal. My enemy stumbled but caught himself quickly, and I only just avoided his next blow by throwing myself forward. The floor behind me splintered under the weight of his mace. Unable to keep my balance, I reached for the railing and missed, tumbling instead down the stairs. Lightning scorched the floor beside me, and then a moment later ripped through me.

"Modryn!" I screamed as the pain overwhelmed.

"Sara!" I heard his responding cry. My head was yanked back as my assailant grabbed a fistful of my loosened hair, my arm twisted behind my back, and I was dragged to my feet. I kicked out again at my captor, but I was rewarded with nothing but pain as something in my foot snapped against the armour.

"It's time you learned the price of defying the Mythic Dawn, Bosmer," a male voice growled, and I twisted around enough to see the scowling mask of a Mythic Dawn agent before another wave of magic scorched through me. Stars burst before my eyes. I distantly heard myself screaming. Everything in my body burned, everything was consumed in the undeniable pain that sated itself on my flesh. A few more seconds, and I would be dead.

The hands holding me incapacitated released me, and I heard the agent stagger back as I fell limply to the floor. Other hands grabbed at me, and I weakly attempted to fend them off before realizing they belonged to Modryn. I glanced over my shoulder to see the would-be-assassin lying still in a growing puddle of blood, a hole larger than a fist carved out of his breastplate.

"Come on, get up!"

Instinctively I followed Modryn's orders, although my body protested fiercely and would barely hold me. The fire had spread all along the ceiling of the guild hall and was currently licking down the walls to the lower levels. A wave of fear flooded through my exhausted mind. The ceiling is burning. The ceiling is burning and the beams will come crashing down and they'll trap me and I'll be pinned and I'll burn and I'll burn and I'll burn and there's no Vicente to come save me––

"Sara," Modryn ordered as he threw my arm around his shoulders. "Move!"

I swallowed my fear and tried to focus on navigating past the bodies of three Mythic Dawn agents. The smoke was thick; my eyes stung. There was another body by the door – Lum stared unseeing at the roof above him, his flesh ravaged by mace and magic from his shoulders down. I began to reach for him, but Modryn dragged me onward.

"No time!" he shouted over the roar of the fire. Then we were stumbling outside in the cold, clean air, and I was passed to another pair of hands that settled me down on the hard ground and began to murmur soothing words of comfort as they eased the pain in my tortured limbs. Through half lidded eyes I watched the Fighters Guild main hall burn, and swore revenge.

"Names," I spat. "Give me the names of those you know now."

I was pacing up and down the length of the main room in Dareloth's house, savagely chewing on my lip and trying to keep my blood lust at bay. First the Kvatch Fighters Guild chapter, and now the one in Chorrol. Too many innocents dead, too many friends put to death by their actions. It was time for the Dawn to pay.

"I won't let you go to your death," Amusei said, his face too calm in my red tinted vision.

"I go not to my death, but theirs," I snapped. I turned to him, settling my palms on the table as I stared him down. "You want to know the truth about me, Amusei? I trained for twenty years to become one of the deadliest weapons in the empire, and Oblivion take it if I'm going to let some amateur conjurer continue to destroy what I hold closest to my heart––"

"––And that's why I'm not giving you the list," he replied, standing up to face me down.

"So that's it, eh?" I said, straightening and staring at him coldly. "Now that you've been given your every desire you're going to turn your back on the one who gave it to you?"

"You're being cruel, Sara."

"Well then damn it all to Oblivion Amusei, help me!" I turned away from the table, my hand in my hair. "What if they come after you next?" I said thickly, my pain manifesting in desperation. "What if simply touching me is enough to make you a target?"

"The Guild has its ways," he said, trying to reassure me. "You know this. If necessary I'll disappear for a few days."

"What if that's not enough?" He was silent. I turned back to him. "Please, Amusei. Give me the list. Let me put my talents to a good use for once." I held out my hand imploringly. His tail slowly swished back and forth as he thought.

"I don't know," he said finally. "This feels wrong. These people are many, and if they are anything like you their skills will be sharp––"

"It isn't the Dark Brotherhood, Amusei."

The Argonian blinked at me, surprised.

"It's not?"

"No. It's the Mythic Dawn. It's the bastards who murdered the emperor and sacked Kvatch. The empire's enemy."

Amusei was quiet a moment as he absorbed this information.

"Why would this Mythic Dawn be looking for you?" he asked. "What have you done to disturb them so deeply?"

I sighed, crossing my arms as I leaned against the table between us.

"Because I'm the so-called 'Hero of Kvatch'," I said. "I'm the bugger that threw a fireball in their haystack. If they can kill me, it's just one more blow to the empire's forces. Now the list. Please."

"No," Amusei said with a resolute set of his jaw. "If you really are that important, then I won't help you get yourself killed."

"Amusei," I growled, fire flashing in my eyes and my hand clenching before I could get my temper under control. "I just lost a good man and a friend to those bastards. Don't get between me and my revenge."

He opened his mouth to respond, and then the door behind us opened.

"Amusei, have you seen the Fox anywhere? I have a message I'm supposed to deliver from…"

I turned to face the new arrival and froze.

Methredhel stared back at me, her face a schooled expression of neutrality as she gently finished closing the door behind her.

"Sarasamacial," she said evenly. "I was under the impression you'd resigned from the Guild."

"I have," I said brusquely, both angered and sorrowed by her cool civility. She was just one more mark to add to my tally of gone friends, it seemed. I turned my eyes on Amusei. "Of that I have been made all too aware."

At least the man had the decency to look guilty.

"In that case, I suppose you were just leaving," the Bosmer announced. "I'm sure Amusei is quite busy with the duties he's taken over from you." I swallowed my pride and my retort, refusing to rise to her baiting. Instead, I lightly inclined my head to the Argonian.

"Thank you for returning my belongings," I said stiffly. "I suppose we may be seeing each other around the city."

"You are always welcome here," Amusei told me, and, were it not for my anger, I would have believed him.

"Shadow hide you," I said.

"Shadow hide you."

I turned and made my way towards the door. Methredhel hissed and flinched away as I approached, furthering my anger, but it was turned to sudden confusion as her hand met mine and inconspicuously slipped a scrap of paper into it.

"They got Carwen," she whispered angrily as she moved further into the room. "Make them pay for me."

I kept my eyes trained forward and walked through the door, acting as if nothing had happened. Only once I was away and outside did I stop to inspect what it was that my former colleague had given me.

Mythic Dawn Agents:

Imperial City –

Marguerite Diel

Dralora Athram

Chorrol –

Eugal Belette

I smiled as I skimmed over the rest of the names listed on the paper. Perhaps Methredhel was no longer my friend, but in her I had found an unlikely ally. She was always one to use what was available. And if they had gotten Carwen, well, that made me one highly useful and available tool in her revenge.

Dralora Athram, eh? She lived in the Imperial City. Perhaps it was time that I made her acquaintance.

I ducked into the alleyway by the Mystic Emporium, leaning against the cool, stone wall and grinding my teeth together as I fought the pain. Glancing around the corner, I could see Dralora step into Palonirya's Divine Elegance, and, with a pain filled hiss, resumed my rest against the wall. My wounds had not yet fully healed from my encounter with the Mythic Dawn assassins two days ago. Gureryne Selvilo, the chapel healer in Chorrol, had tried to convince me to stay until he was sure I was mended, but my fury had been too strong and my hurt too tempered to keep me settled. I'd slipped out while he was tending Modryn's smoke battered lungs, made camp on the road when I could travel no further, and interrogated Amusei unsuccessfully that next afternoon. My body screamed for rest, yet, with my quarry in sight, I could not let this opportunity escape.

I had been watching Dralora Athram since she'd left her house this morning, waiting for the right moment to strike. Finding her had been easy, really. The upper class was always willing to accept that a Bosmer was a messenger or errand runner of some sort, and their servants were more than willing to give the necessary information to get such a Bosmer's long, sneaky fingers away from their master's purses. I'd forgone my armour to better blend in, and now wore only Renault's white linen shirt and brown breeches, although I'd managed to salvage an old pair of knee high boots I'd left once at Modryn's to replace the ill-fitting ones I'd worn from Cloud Ruler Temple. A dark, homespun cloak settled about my shoulders, and, with my quiver of steel arrows moved to my hip and my bow slung low across my back, I looked no more than an ordinary adventurer taking a much needed chance to re-supply in the city. Nobody would ever remember me.

I heard the door to Divine Elegance open, and glanced around the corner to see Dralora stepping away from the business. I followed her with my eyes, taking note of the direction she was travelling, and then casually and discreetly made my way after her. She led me across the district, and I stopped every once in a while to inspect a trinket or adjust my cloak as she slowed or paused. I could feel my heart beating strong in my chest, noticed the subtle sharpening of senses long disused. As I put down a quill a merchant hawked to me I observed a gentle tremble to my fingers. I took me a moment to understand why: I was excited. Part of me recoiled from that thought, but most of me, remembering Lum's ruined body, embraced it. This was what I had been made for. This was the reason for those long hours training in the dark, for the days at the end of which I cried as Ocheeva rubbed out knots as big as my fist and Telaendril pried open hands too cramped to uncurl on their own. This was the reason my parents lay dead, and all those I ever touched scarred beyond recognition. My words to Martin from not long ago floated to the forefront of my mind: my part is to do what the Blades cannot. Could the Blades kill a woman in cold blood to prevent her from doing any more harm, even if her guilt could not be entirely assured? Perhaps. But I was death itself. I would ensure that it was so.

The line between your "Aranwen" and "Sarasamacial" is blurring, a voice purred in the back of my mind, but I dismissed it as I followed Dralora through the Arena district door and across its grounds.

This is for the good of the Empire, not some twisted god's pleasure. It's not the same.

The voice's silence did not reassure me.

Dralora headed through the door to the Arboretum, and I followed as a pair of Argonians passed the gate on their way to the coliseum. Cyrodiil claimed its inhabitants were equal, but, as the guard's eyes watched the pair walk by instead of the shadowy, hooded figure passing between them, I knew it not to be true. The beast races would never be equal to Men, never quite trusted, just as the Bosmer would never hold the respect of the Dunmer or anything but the disdain of the Altmer. We were thieves, the beast races and the Bosmer. Thieves and nothing more than fodder for contempt. Hone your anger, Telaendril had once told me. Keep it and loose it only on your targets and enemies. This is how best to serve Sithis. I focused my anger at the guards on the dusk skinned woman strolling the Arboretum before me, and felt cold pleasure.

As I entered the Arboretum proper, I slipped to the side and settled behind one of the statues there, content to watch Dralora from that vantage point. Here I was hidden from the sight of the guards, and had a perfect shot across the courtyard housing the statue of Talos. The park was nearly empty. The chance to strike would be soon.

Turning away from Dralora, I took an arrow from my quiver, coated its tip in a poison I had procured yesterday evening, and laid it across my bow. I drew in a deep breath, willing myself to calm and my shoulders to stop screaming so.

This is what you are made for, Sara. This is your duty. Claim your rage. Use it to serve you.

Yes, the voice whispered again, pleased. This is your duty. Take that woman's life. Enjoy watching her die.

I will do no such thing. I am not a monster.

No, but you claim Aranwen is. If you take this woman's life, will there be a difference between you?

I drew in another slow breath, forcing my shoulders to relax.

I will do what is necessary. If it means sacrificing myself, so be it. I have killed before. I refused to let myself think of how I would face anyone I'd ever loved after this.

The voice laughed.

Good, it said. It's about time you listened to reason.

I let out my breath and glanced around the statue, looking for my prey. She was staring up at the statue of Mara, absentmindedly fingering the amulet around her slender throat. The burning walls of the Chorrol guild hall filled my vision. My resolved hardened.

Stepping out from behind the statue, I raised my bow and drew it in one smooth motion. Someone called out and Dralora turned to face them, exposing the slim expanse of her back – and a clear shot at her heart. Movement near my head caught my eye and I started, glancing up at whatever it was that had approached me. It was a sparrow, nestled in the crook of Stendarr's arm.

Stendarr, the God of Mercy.

I swallowed, shaken, glanced back at Dralora, and choked. A tiny Dunmer girl laughed in her arms as she hugged her warmly. A man, elven and dark skinned as she, watched with a small smile a short distance away. Behind them the statue of Mara looked on as if pleased.

Three shots, the voice said, appraising the situation. The man will see where the arrow came from if he doesn't panic, so he must die. As for the child… we wouldn't want to leave her orphaned and an unlikely witness, would we? Best they all go in one tragic event.

I recoiled from the thought. The tip of my arrow dipped down.

Where is your rage? the voice asked, growing angry. This woman as good as slew your guild-mates!

I cannot slay an entire family, I argued. This isn't the proper time to take her life.

'Isn't the proper time'! We may never again have this chance!

How can I kill her in front of her husband and child?

It's easy, the voice hissed. You aim and let go. Think of Kvatch. How many children watched their mothers die because of this woman?

The little, torn bodies of the children savaged by daedra flashed across my memory. Three lives, nay, even one, for how many countless others?

Yes, the voice cooed. Think of that. The "greater good". Serve your empire.

I swallowed and raised the bow again, taking aim at Dralora as she knelt by her daughter. I drew in a breath and then let it halfway out. Her heart came under my scope.

The sparrow from the statue flitted across my line of vision, and my eyes unwillingly followed it across the courtyard. It landed on the statue of Talos, high on the shoulder near the carven eyes. They seemed to settle on me, gazing across with unhappy disapproval, unsettlingly familiar.

Talos. Tiber Septim. Septim. Martin. Baurus.

I looked back at Dralora, and realized my arrow was trained on the little girl's head.

"Oh gods," I choked, lowering my bow and slipping back behind the statue. My back thudded against the sculpture as I leaned against it, and I slid down until I was sitting on the ground. My bow and the arrow dangled limply from my hands.

Even as an assassin, I had never harmed an innocent child.

I need… help, Grey Fox. I don't want to be that person anymore. But I can't… I don't know how… The memory of my voice rang through my head.

Swear to me, Sarasamacial. Swear that you will never break the tenets again. They Grey Fox. Corvus. So many years ago.

I won't, Grey Fox. Never without need. Never without cause. Only in defence of myself or another life. I swear this.

And never an innocent or when mercy would serve.

Yes. Never an innocent or when mercy would serve.

I put a hand to my face, sickened.

What are you doing? the voice raged. What about the Empire? What about the dead, motherless children? What about your revenge?

And in that instance I knew why I had almost broken my vow to Corvus, why I had almost slaughtered an entire family for aught but another's word: vengeance. Vengeance was not a good enough reason. How had Methredhel learned of Dralora's identity and so quickly? Was Carwen dead? Recruited into the Dawn? What did she mean, "they got her"? How had I ignored all the lack of details? All the lack of evidence? How had I forgotten everything that had happened to me since I fled the Brotherhood seventeen years ago?

You are weak, the voice growled. Weak as the man who has taught you to feel.

I strengthened my resolve.

Be silent. I am not you.

Yet inside I knew how perilously close to falsehood that statement had come.

"What are you doing, woman?"

I glanced up, startled to see an Imperial Legionnaire standing not far from me. I immediately banished the voice and my emotional queasiness, rose to my feet, and tucked my bow and arrow away as inconspicuously as possible.

"Nothing, good sir. I was just enjoying a stroll in the Arboretum and had a passing spell of weakness."

"'A passing spell of weakness'," the Legionnaire quoted, unconvinced, "with a bow and arrow readied?" I shifted my weight, meeting his eyes solidly as I brushed a stray lock of hair off my forehead. The movement pushed back my hood, and sudden recognition flared in his eyes as he better saw my face. His gaze hardened. "You're the Bosmer from before," he breathed. I continued to stare at him defiantly.

"And if I am?" I questioned. Anything would be better than having his attention focused on my almost assassination attempt.

"I'm placing you under arrest," he said, reaching for the cuffs that hung at his belt.

"On what charges?" I snapped, my calm cracked. I stepped back and away from him and the statue. Perhaps this wasn't better.

"Theft, embezzlement, forgery, counterfeiting, slander… it's a long list. Don't expect me to recite all of it."

Indignation rose up in me. I recognized this soldier now.

Stay quiet, Bosmer, and they'll feed you before the day's out.

"I am not the Grey Fox."

"No, but you did flee the Imperial Prison. Now hold out your hands."

I ground my teeth and prepared to run, but a strong hand from behind clapped itself on my back, startling me and effectively halting my flight.

"Thank you Varian, but I'll take it from here."

I glanced at the Imperial who stood beside and a little behind me, wondering what in Oblivion kind of civilian would stand up to an Imperial soldier. Varian scowled at the man.

"This isn't any of your business, Armillian. You're still off duty."

Armillian? Wasn't he that...?

"And I intend to be for some time. However, I have a debt to pay to the Hero of Kvatch, as do we all."

"The Hero of Kvatch? You expect me to believe this skinny, little Bosmer to be the one who closed the Oblivion gate?"

The Imperial's brown eyes turned as hard and unforgiving as stone.

"Yes, I do. You'll remember that I was there, Varian."

Varian scowled further, but didn't press the subject.

"Fine," he snapped. "But she's a convicted felon. If there are consequences, they are yours to deal with."

The man beside me nodded, and Varian departed, still scowling and grumbling. He lowered his hand and turned to me.

"...Renegus?" I asked, my eyes narrowed and brow furrowed. He nodded.

"It seems you still recognize me," he said. "Although I wouldn't have been surprised if you didn't. The Legion does look all the same with the armour."

With his stoic expression I wasn't sure if he intended the comment to be a joke or not. Regardless, I didn't laugh.

"Why did you help me?" I asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Why did you help those at Kvatch?"

I frowned, taken aback by the question.

"That is why," he said. He stepped back, gesturing at the gate. "You are free to go."

I frowned further.

"You're not going to question me? You're not going to ask my help or detain me or throw me in prison?"

Renegus fixed me with his eyes, oddly chilling despite their colour.

"I saw what you were going to do to the Dunmer. I saw how you came in, stalking her, and I saw how, when her husband and child appeared, you stopped what it was you were doing. I won't lie, Bosmer. If I see you again I will arrest you. Your small mercy here and your heroics at Kvatch are the only things keeping you free this one time."

His honesty stung. I cast my eyes aside.

"That seems fair," I said quietly. "Yet if I could ask one favour of you, I would consider the scales more evenly settled."

He looked at me impassively for a moment, then gave a single, curt nod. I took in a breath and let it out, using the time to judge my situation. Renegus had been at Kvatch. He had helped me fight off the daedra. He had lost a good man in my service. He had come to my aid here, despite his moral misgivings.

Yes, I could trust him.

I reached into my pouch and drew forth the list of names, handing it to him after a moment. He took it questioningly, frowning.

"This is a list of names belonging to those suspected of being Mythic Dawn agents," I explained. "That woman's name is on the list. If it is correct, she is part of the cult who murdered Emperor Uriel and opened the Oblivion gate at Kvatch."

Renegus' eyes became slits.

"So you were dealing with a traitor and a spy?"

I looked across the courtyard towards the statue of Talos. The Dunmer family was gone.

"…so I believed, yes."

The Imperial sighed.

"Then the scales are not even," he said, lifting a hand to brush back his dark hair. "If you were doing the Empire's work, then—" He went to take a step forward as if to pace, and the leg under him buckled. I rushed forward to catch him. He grunted in pain.

"Your leg," I said as I helped him recover. "You didn't get it healed."

"I did," he countered as he eased his weight back to his good leg. I released him. "But it was too late, and a simple Legionnaire doesn't have the coin to pay for anything better than what the Chapel does out of the good of its heart."

"So the Legion will just let you suffer?"

"The Legion supports many men and many families. The pain only comes when I forget and do not favour it. It is a better fate than others."

We were both silent. The image of a soldier's body, wrapped in blue cloth from the Chapel and slung over a horse's withers, hung between us.

"I will get you the coin for a better healing," I said.

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Bosmer," he said forcefully. He looked away, and the grief over his wounds and his inner scars from Kvatch became pitifully plain to see. "I couldn't handle the hope."

I set my resolve then.

"You'll have it," I affirmed. "My life was in your hands several times at Kvatch, and you helped me here. I don't forget my debts. It's the least I can do for your coming to my aid when it wasn't necessary."

"You were serving the empire. It was necessary."

I gazed at the Imperial, moved and appraising. A hint of a smile touched my lips.

"You are very loyal," I said. "I think I know a man who would like you. You remind me of him." I glanced down at the paper crumpled in his fist. He followed my gaze and opened his fingers, awkwardly smoothing out the crinkles against his thigh. "This list was given to me by a woman who was once my ally. We no longer speak, and, while I do not doubt her integrity, she is easily blinded by her emotions. She claims to have lost a good friend to the Mythic Dawn, and that is more than enough to cause her to jump to conclusions or overlook certain…inconsistencies that should not be ignored."

Renegus met my gaze.

"Was this friend who died also a friend of yours?"

I was impressed by Imperial's perceptiveness.

"No," I replied. "But I three days ago I did lose a good man and comrade to their schemes. And yes, what you are thinking is correct: I, too, can be a woman easily blinded by my emotions."

"I see," he murmured quietly, looking lost in thought. He met my eyes. "So what is this favour you wanted to ask of me, then?"

"Look into the names on the list. See if any of them are correct. If they are, I'm sure you can think of an appropriate course of action." By the darkness that swiftly clouded his eyes, I judged my faith had been well placed. "Trust no one," I cautioned. "Even if it is correct this list is incomplete. I trust you only because I fail to see how a cult could be so devious as to send their own men to be slaughtered for the chance at earning my confidence."

"Yet if they were cunning enough to murder the emperor in his own city, I wouldn't be surprised by such a plot," the Imperial said evenly, despite knowing he must be undermining my faith in him. I shrugged.

"Fear and suspicion do wonders at tearing apart allies," I said. "If I allow myself to think that way, I will be fighting this war alone. We all will."

He nodded, his eyes returning once more to the paper.

"As you say," he said. We were silent a moment more, and then I stirred.

"There is… one man you can trust," I offered quietly. "Although I do not think you will find it easy to do so. He is an Argonian, and goes by the name of Amusei." Renegus glanced up, piercing me with his brown eyed gaze. "He is a very dear, very old, very close friend of mine. If necessary, he can get you in contact with me – I'll be leaving the city shortly."

"Where will you go?"

I gazed at him ruefully.

"I cannot say, but know that I go on the empire's business."

He nodded.

"That is enough for me," he said, folding the paper and pocketing it. "I shall see what it is that can be done, although my influence is much… lessened, as of late. The Legion does not look well on cripples and invalids."

I flinched at his harsh words, disliking his bitter cynicism.

"As I said: I will help you. That, at least, can be done."

"So you say. Blessings of Stendarr upon you, Bosmer."

I wondered wryly on the appropriateness of that comment as I reached forward a hand to clasp his arm.

"And you, Renegus."

I set my bow down on the desk between Amusei and me before sitting down.

"I couldn't do it, Amusei. I can't do it anymore. I understand that now. Thank you for holding me back."

The Argonian's tail swished as he quietly studied me, judging my words.

"In that case," he said, reaching into a drawer of his desk. "There is something you should have."