I was falling one moment, and then I wasn't. The dramatic shift in physics made me feel slightly nauseated, and I wished my eyes had been open so I could see what exactly happened, because where a few seconds ago I was tumbling backwards away from deathly icicles, I now had my two feet planted firmly beneath me on a bed of soft moss.

I blinked stupidly at my surroundings, still feeling the adrenaline pulsing through my veins and still hearing my heart beat frantically in my ears.

I was in a misty grove of some sort. Trees of all sizes sprouted up periodically, their leaves in the middle of a transition from green to orange, and they had witch's hair lichen dangled in silky looking wisps from their branches. Behind me and to my left and right were rocks and underbrush and roots and all other manner of nature that blocked any other direction but forward where a river gurgled happily beneath a rocky stone bridge. The path was lit by lanterns hanging from wooden posts every five meters or so, beckoning me to follow.

The scenery was intensely serene, and only when I reached out to touch the rock to see if it was real, did I realize I could also move my right arm again, the paralysis I had experienced miraculously gone. However, I didn't have any time to enjoy it because the next thing I realized was that I was alone.

"Niruin?" I called out, feeling the awe making a quick turn into panic once again. "Niruin, where are you?"

The trees rustled their leaves in response.

"Niruin?" I called out again, but the response was the same.

I breathed and forced myself to calm down. There was only one direction to go from here, and if Niruin wasn't with me, maybe he was transported farther along the path. Reluctantly, and seeing no other option, I began to walk.

The path led me back and forth over the curving river multiple times. I crossed many bridges and climbed a fair number of makeshift steps. A couple fireflies joined me on my hike, and, accompanied by the soothing sound of running water, I eventually felt my pulse begin to slow.

Is this real? I thought. Maybe I'm dead. I must be dead.

That thought didn't bother me as much as it should have. Mist swirled around my feet as I walked slowly, drinking in the environment with wide, amber eyes. At one point I even reached out and absentmindedly dragged my gloved fingertips along one of the rock walls that sprung up occasionally to herd me. Eventually the river took a separate turn than where the path was taking me, and I found myself walking between two such walls that steadily grew taller until their rough surfaces were at least twice my height. Instead of posts now, lanterns hung from leather strips strung between the two cliffs. At the time, it didn't even occur to me to wonder who put them there.

And then I heard a voice. I snapped out of the trance I had fallen into, and felt my heartbeat quicken again. I was about to call out for Niruin when I realized it wasn't voice but voices.

I dropped into a crouch, moving with practiced grace so that even the mist swirling by my feet was hardly disturbed. Wishing that the lanterns here cast longer shadows, I stuck close to the wall on my right until I arrived at a clearing. It was a small cul-de-sac. Another dead end like the one I had arrived in, only more spacious.

And there was a party happening.

I blinked in confusion as I studied the scene in front of me, trying to make sense of it. Two rectangular wooden tables had been pushed together and were scattered with food, half eaten. Wooden chairs surrounded it, though none of them were occupied. Instead, a group of Nordic men chose to stand and be merry that way. Each had a tankard in their hand and was a fair bit inebriated. However, I only had eyes for one of them.

I stood up and walked out of the shadows towards the gathering.

"Sam?" I said.

He twisted to face me, in the middle of refilling another man's tankard from a nearby barrel tap of what I assumed was mead.

"You're here!" he exclaimed, throwing the half-full tankard into the air. The liquid splashed everywhere and the other man watched with a disappointed, thirsty look at the drink he lost, but Sam was already walking towards me, arms open wide. "I was beginning to think I might have over done it, and you went and got yourself killed."

My head was filled with the buzzing of chatter and clanking tankards and confusion and the smell of alcohol. Noticing my discomfort, Sam made a hand gesture, and the noise around us faded to a dull hum, like a reverse Muffle spell. I don't know how he did it, but the relief was immediate.

"Um. Thanks."

"Not a problem," he said jovially clapping my on the shoulder. "I'm just glad you made it."

"It was… quite the trip," I said hesitantly. "Where are we? Have you seen another wood elf come through here?"

He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Hm. I thought you might not remember your first night here. You had a big night."

I shook my head, trying to clear it. There was a nagging feeling in the back of my mind, but I could feel my senses dulling, as if just being in this grove and inhaling the fumes was getting me drunk, and I only vaguely noted that he hadn't answered any of my questions.

"Wait," I said. "What was that you said about over doing it?"

"Well, you guys were just moving so slowly, so I had to do something to hurry you along. You'd probably still be creeping through Morvunskar if I hadn't, and I was getting a little impatient. And I've been extremely patient thus far, if you don't mind me saying."

"I don't understand. Where's Niruin?" I asked again.

He waved my question away in exasperation. "Niruin, Niruin, Niruin. He's fine, he's fine. He's not welcome here, so I sent him somewhere else."

I groaned and pinched the bridge of my nose. "How? What? What does that even mean? Where is this place? Why is the air so dense?"

He sighed, and made a motion. A gentle breeze rustled through my dirty hair, and my next breath felt like I was gasping in fresh, crisp air after staying in a hot, stuffy room. It was sobering, and the cool air hitting the back of my throat shocked me so much that my breath hitched.

I forced myself to breathe normally and fixed Sam with a wary look, taking in his plain, unassuming face as if seeing it for the first time.

"Who are you?"

Sam grinned his lazy grin. "Now you're asking the right questions."

Suddenly, with a sound that was like the violent strum of an out of tune lute, he was absorbed by a dark shroud.

I jumped back in surprise and whipped out my dagger, falling into a defensive stance, though I fumbled with the weapon a bit, and my reaction was embarrassingly slow.

The shroud continued to amass and contract until it exploded outward. Black tendrils licked the air hungrily before vanishing like smoke. By the time I had a firm grip on my dagger and a steady stance, the dark magic had dissipated, and I realized a dagger would do me no good against the man before me. If you could call him a man.

The being in front of me was a good three heads taller than me, and a good two and a half heads taller than Sam had been. He had the head of a dremora with the typical black and red skin, two sets of menacing horns on his head that curved in different directions, and eyes blacker than the darkest of shadows. His black hair was slicked back, and he was clad in full daedric armour – something I never thought I'd ever see in my life.

"I am Sanguine, Daedric Prince of Debauchery!" the being announced dramatically, armour clinking with his movements. He posed for a moment, waiting for me to react, but when I did nothing but stare, he dropped his arms and sighed again. "Oh, put that away. I'm not going to hurt you."

I swallowed and obeyed shakily, but only because my dagger was basically useless against a Daedra, let alone a Daedric Prince.

A Daedric Prince. Stendarr have mercy, I am in so much trouble.

When are you not in trouble? another voice in my head asked.

Upon seeing the look on my face Sanguine folded his great, armored arms over his chest with a smirk.

"I know, I know, how could I lie to you?" he grinned. "Well, how could I trust you until we've shared a few drinks? And what a few drinks those were! You don't remember I suppose, but I haven't been so entertained in at least a hundred years."

All the events of the last few weeks came flooding back to me at once, carrying along with them a torrent of emotions that I had no idea how to cope with.

"You left me in Markarth," I accused.

"Ah, yes," he said, almost sounding remorseful. "It was a shame our fun had to end, but you mortals can only handle so much liquor, and I had some business to attend to."

"I was arrested."

"I know."

"For a crime I didn't do."

He rolled his eyes. I think. It was difficult to tell when his eyes had no pupils or irises.

"I'm well aware of all that. When I said that I haven't been so entertained in years, I wasn't merely talking about our drunken escapades. I wouldn't necessarily call myself a sadist, but watching you struggle to survive and retrace your steps? Now that was some quality entertainment. The dragon was a pleasant bonus."

"How could you possibly know about any of that?"

"My, you really think so little of my power, don't you?" he said sadly. "I am not so irresponsible as to leave a guest of mine unattended. Especially after you pleaded so nicely at that wretched human's house. What was his name? You know. The one with the big nose."

Words failed me. I remembered the battle well, and I remembered the strange sorcery that had allowed me to barely escape with my life. I remembered praying to the gods and, cringing, vaguely recalled that I'd prayed to the daedra for help as well.

"Ah, well. It doesn't matter. Poor sod. Got what was coming to him though, eh?" He winked at me.

"Everything makes so much sense now," I said in a tone that couldn't be described as enthusiastic. I was still trying to sort through the flurry of emotions bombarding me, and trying to figure out which one was the most appropriate.

"You're a bit slow on the uptake, but at least you get it. And I don't mean to take all the credit from you. Honestly. You're quite the sharp shooter; without me you'd probably still have made it. Just maybe just not as… whole as you are now."

I flexed my left hand, feeling the scar tissue running through it stretch. The only arrows I had shot since the injury were those at the Morvunskar mages, and those only attested to how screwed up my hand was. It would require a lot of rehabilitation to be able to work with it as well as I used to.

Anger won.

"Credit?" I snapped. "You think I got anything from being stabbed and thrown into prison?"

"Well, yes. Stories often outlast most other things."

That only made me more irritated. "I have almost been killed more times in the past week than I have in my entire life. And so many people actually have been killed. I've been beaten, and lonely, and scared, and a whole bunch of other things that I can't even list because right now I'm just so, so angry with you that I want to…to—"

The amused expression on Sam's – Sanguine's – face hardened abruptly. His eyes flashed dangerously, and my jaw snapped shut automatically. I had seen that exact flash in Mercer's eyes whenever anyone threatened to be insubordinate, and all too quickly I remembered whom I was talking to.

"You may want to stop there," said Sanguine with a hard smile, his voice silky as honeyed wine. "I'm a lot more lenient than my comrades, but I am still a Daedric Prince. If I had been anyone else, you would be dead or turned into a sweet roll at the first flicker of dissent. You are alive in my presence only because I allow it. You would do well not to forget that, mortal."

He allowed a few seconds of meaningful silence to let that sink in, studying me with his demonic eyes, before letting out a throaty laugh.

"Besides," he said smoothly, as if that whole episode hadn't just happened. "You speak falsely. Forgetting Morvunskar, I did nothing but aid you on your quests. I provided you opportunities, and you took them. I saved your life a couple times, ensured you made a fast and proper recovery from any injuries you suffered, and even offered you some company on the road to Rorikstead to make sure you were on track."

He looked at me expectantly, and I obliged, feeling the need to repair any damage I had done.

"You were the carriage driver?" I asked despite myself, trying not to let my voice crack.

Another laugh. "Don't be ridiculous. A carriage driver? Never. I was the old man in the cart with you. Just checking in to make sure all was well with you mentally and all that. If not, you'd be more suited for Sheogorath than myself and I couldn't have that."

"Thanks for the concern," I said, careful to keep my tone neutral. "But it was still you who put me in all those situations in the first place."

"I did no such thing," the Daedric Prince said haughtily, thankfully taking no offense to my continued debate. "I never made you shoot that first arrow, nor did I make you go to the Shrine of Talos. You also could have abandoned your quest to find me at any time."

"But I didn't."

"And that's where the mystery and excitement of it all lies!" he said passionately, dark eyes gleaming. "And that's also why I realized that you'd make a much more interesting bearer of my not-quite-holy staff than this waste of flesh." He gestured at the on going party.

I was confused at first, but remembered we were not alone. I had completely forgotten there were others here. It was incredibly disconcerting to see people so close and not being able to hear their laughter and slurred voices. I kept expecting to see the sheen of glass between us, but there was nothing but air.

One of the Nords stumbled, tripping over the leg of a chair and landing flat on his face. His mead spilled everywhere.

I'll take that as a compliment.

"Um. Thanks. I guess."

"My pleasure."

"You never planned on giving me the staff back in the Bee and Bard, did you?"

If a dremora could look guilty, then Sanguine looked guilty.

Can the Daedric Prince of Debauchery even feel guilt?

"No," he admitted. "I really just needed something to encourage you to go out into the world and spread merriment."

I hmphed and crossed my arms. "Figures."

"If it helps though, think of it this way: if you hadn't done everything you did, you'd probably be leaving here staffless. And trust me. This staff is well worth your troubles."

I scowled, but as much as I wanted to, I honestly couldn't be mad at him.

Sanguine was right. Everything that had happened to me these past few weeks had been of my own volition. I had chosen to accept those drinks from him. I had chosen to shoot Margret's murderer and help Eltrys uncover the Silver-Blood conspiracy with the Forsworn. I had chosen to follow the Forsworn in the outset of their rebellion, and after all that, it was me again who chose to pick up the trail to find Sam.

I had no one to blame but myself.

And somehow, that actually made me feel better.

This entire ordeal I had been feeling as helpless as a child. I was on an oarless raft in the middle of the ocean being battered this way and that by an endless storm with no way to save myself. But I realized now that everything had happened because, in a way, I had allowed it to happen.

While I couldn't control the storm, I could still control whether I got on the raft or not, which meant I still had some aspect of control over my life. Maybe not all of it, but some was enough for now.

Sanguine must have sensed that I had come across some suitable closure, because he broke out into another sharp-toothed grin.

"I think it's time for you to go," he said. "No fun keeping you locked up here with the staff."

"Already?" I said, surprised to feel actual remorse at the thought of leaving.

"Already," he said, shifting slightly to avoid a flying shoe. "Remember, I'll be watching you with keen interest now that you're wielding my staff. No need to use it wisely. Wreak some havoc."

"Wait—"

"See you around, Lightfoot."

"Wait—" I said again, but to no avail. Still grinning, the Daedric Prince snapped his fingers, and he was gone.

Or, rather, I was gone.

There was no flash of light, no fade out, no sign of change. I was just suddenly in another place. My brain couldn't keep up with the transition and a wave of nausea and dizziness threatened to overwhelm me.

The world around me spun, and I staggered a few steps before a pair of strong hands alighted on my shoulders to steady me, a soothing voice in my ringing ears going, "Steady there, lass," as if I hadn't just appeared out of nowhere.

I registered surprised shouts and people calling my name, but they sounded as if Sanguine's reverse Muffle spell was still in effect.

"Kasha, can you hear me?" said Brynjolf.

"Where's Niruin?" I mumbled incoherently.

"Right here," Niruin said from somewhere nearby.

My relief was almost tangible, and I swayed a little.

"What's that she's got there?"

That one was Delvin.

"Someone get her a chair."

Sapphire.

"Cmon, lass. Keep it together."

As the dizziness subsided, I found myself sitting. Slowly, the Ragged Flagon came into focus, and I looked down, realizing I had something in my hands.

"Kasha, you okay?" Niruin asked slowly.

"Yeah," I said, not looking up.

I turned the object in my hands. It was a staff. It was light and made of smooth, green wood. At the top of the staff, large, dangerous looking thorns grew around a beautiful, pink rose with equally sharp petals.

And then a hand whacked me across the back of the head.

"Ow," I said, looking up to see Delvin glaring down at me. Sapphire, Vekel, Brynjolf, and Niruin were also there with a range of different expressions. "What was that for?"

"For being the most daft, irresponsible, foolish jit of an elf I have ever come across in my entire life," Delvin said. He looked positively furious, but before I could come up with anything to say, his expression softened. "And if I wasn't so damned relieved that you're not dead, I would be kicking yer ass from here back to Markarth."

"Markarth?" I said. "You know I was in Markarth? Who told you that?"

"Niruin did," said Sapphire.

I turned my attention to the other Bosmer. "Oh, come on. I wanted to tell the story. It's my story to tell."

"I know that. I didn't tell them everything," he said indignantly. "It's just that I sort of remember you dragging my sorry ass away from those mages, and then suddenly I was back here, no injuries or nothing, but you weren't here and I panicked and I had to explain to everyone that you were alive and—"

"Wow. Okay, okay, I get it."

And then everyone began to talk at once. Questions upon questions upon questions. Niruin took his bow back, and Vekel passed out free drinks, though I only held mine. I explained what I could, and expanded on only a few things, staving them off by saying I wanted to tell the story of my adventures in full.

And just as quickly as the talking began, everyone fell silent. There was a pregnant pause, and I felt all eyes drift to the staff in my hands. Everyone had the same question on their minds.

"So," Delvin said finally. "What does it do?"

I shrugged. "Should we find out?"

"Not here, you won't," Vekel said. "I'm not going to have you setting my tables on fire again. Once was enough, thank you."

"What if she points it that way?" Sapphire suggested, gesturing at the other half of the cavern that the Ragged Flagon didn't comprise and was largely water and empty space.

"I don't know, lass," Brynjolf said. "Maybe it's not such a good idea to be shooting that thing in here."

"Nonsense," Niruin said. "What's the worst that can happen?"

"Please don't say that combination of words in here ever," Vekel said.

There was about a minute more of bickering, but in the end, curiosity got the better of us all, including Vekel, and we decided to see what powers the staff held.

I was unsure of how to use Sanguine's Rose, but I quickly found that it wasn't too difficult. As soon as I activated it, a shimmering ball the color of the dark shroud that had enveloped Sam when he turned into Sanguine hovered above the rose, glimmering expectantly.

I held it that way for a second as everyone leaned in to look. Then I pointed it towards the middle of the cavern, just near where Tonilia usually sat whenever she was around, and held my breath.

With the same, strangled lute noise that Sam had transformed with, the dark ball of magic at the top of the Rose vanished and appeared a couple meters away, many times larger in diameter. It shimmered there half a second, before something stepped through the portal, having to duck its head to get through.

For a second I thought it was Sanguine, but I realized quickly that it was smaller, and only had one set of horns rather than two. The dremora surveyed it's new surroundings looking just as shocked as we were to stand before us.

And it also looked peeved.

"You dare summon me, puny mortals?" the dremora boomed, when it laid eyes on us. It picked up a crate next to it and chucked it.

"Shit," I said.

"Are you serious."

"Damn it, Lightfoot."

"You have literally been back for less than ten minutes."

"You guys asked me to do it."

"Mercer's going to be furious," Brynjolf sighed.

"I'm going to be furious," Vekel the Man said, as the dremora picked up a near by chair. "Call that thing back!"

"I don't know how!"

"Get down!" shouted Sapphire and Brynjolf at the same time, and we all scattered to avoid the chair flying at us, and stayed down as a table followed it soon after.

The thing went on a rampage for about a minute longer. It continued to throw tables and chairs and tankards, but it never attacked any of us directly, and I began to suspect the Rose put some sort of binding on it to prevent that. But before I could confirm that, it disappeared with the same strum that it appeared with, and the vacuum of silence we were left with was filled with eerie white noise.

Cautiously, we poked out heads out of our respective hiding spots. Surveying the area, the damage was minimal. A chair had been thrown into the water that pooled in the middle of the room, and a table had a leg broken beyond repair, but that was the extent of it. Still, Vekel bemoaned the loss of both as if they were his own children.

"See?" said Niruin, panting. "Told you we had nothing to worry about."

Brynjolf and Delvin glared at him, but I laughed.

That was how Mercer found us, ragged and tired and returning from a meeting with Maven, but with energy enough still to chew us out. Surprisingly, at the end of it all, he allowed me to keep Sanguine's Rose for myself, but only after a series of harsh admonishments for the wreckage we caused. However, even the extra scolding I received for disappearing so abruptly did nothing to dampen my mood.

I'm back, I thought, clenching my left hand and feeling the scar tissue stretch across the back of it.

It would take a while to get used to the stiffness the scar tissue caused, and the scar itself would likely never fade; for what would probably be the rest of my life, it would serve as a constant reminder of my misadventures across Skyrim.

And maybe that was okay. Sometimes you need to remember the bad times to really enjoy the good.

FIN

That's a wrap, everyone.

The concept of completing something is so foreign to me, so I really have to thank all of you for reading and for encouraging me with your nice and thoughtful comments. You all have a lot of patience to have put up with me for this long, but I hope it was worth the wait, and I hope you all enjoyed reading this at least half as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Thanks again, and happy new year!