It was an overcast day. Rain pattered down on the roof of Cloud Ruler Temple. Much was on Rina's mind as she sat in the Great Hall, staring down a great tankard of mead. Normally she didn't drink- she just sold bottles when she found them- but she was under so much stress that on this one occasion, she decided to allow herself a flagon. It also helped to numb the pain of her foot. She focused her meager restoration skill on helping the breaks to heal, and was not very successful.

It wasn't the gates that caused her stress- not them in themselves, anyway. Rina had closed plenty of Oblivion gates so far, and was used to dealing with the denizens of the hellish realm. She had become stronger than them, though determination and more hours of combat than she could count. She herself was a high-ranking Speaker of the Dark Brotherhood, and had taken lives in cold blood- the lives of people she did not know, and had no quarrel with. How she was able to, she wasn't quite sure. Maybe it was the promise of anonymity where it mattered- the guards, who always seemed to be on her trail, and the acceptance of her abilities by people who truly valued her, like Lucien.

Anyway, she had been through far worse, namely the assassination of Amadus Phillada. Then, the Rose of Sithis, the specially commissioned arrow that was supposed to kill him, only grazed him, and he attacked her along with all of the Leyawiin guards in the area and some of the citizens as well. She had survived that by jumping onto a rooftop and letting loose a volley of arrows while still dodging others. Dealing with Daedra was nothing.

She had seen allies fall beside her, in Oblivion and Cyrodill, and had wept for them bitterly. Rina became hardened by battle, and she held her own in every confrontation she encountered, standing her ground in the face of whatever beast or monster approached. She had seen Lucien Lachance, a mentor, though not a friend, be killed in vain. She had seen countless allies in the Mages Guild be slain by necromancers. Death was not an unfamiliar presence.

For some reason, her thoughts kept returning to her most active time in the Dark Brotherhood. Lucien had been an odd character. He was charming, to be sure, but something about him… felt wrong, even to her. Not that they had not had their own brief time together, something that still rather stung Rina when she thought of it. He had been so smooth, so convincing. She knew firsthand how cold he was, how little regard for human life he had. He had an attraction- an unhealthy one- to violence. If he had been a vampire, that would have been some excuse, but he could claim no such thing. He simply had… questionable tastes.

Through all of her experience, she came to fear almost nothing- not even death.

One thing, however, she feared more than she could ever hope to express.

Ever since the siege of Kvatch she had been impressed with Martin Septim's grace and strength, and she came to love him. She admired his determined gait, his willingness to try to lead even though it was against his own nature, his compassion for others, and his handsome features. He had been a priest, not knowing of his royal lineage, until she came along and told him. She was there with him as he struggled to believe she was telling the truth, and helped to guide him along his path, physically as she went with him all over Akatosh's green earth, and metaphorically. She was somewhat frightened at the emotions she was experiencing. What she feared most, though, was losing him.

It had been nearly a year since she had met him, and somehow she had never found the words to tell him how she felt. She longed for his presence every minute she was away from him, and found herself dreaming of him- both pleasant dreams, where the Oblivion crisis was over, he loved her, and all was well, and nightmares, where a horde of Daedra rushed from a gigantic Gate and cut him down, while she stood by, helpless and unable to move.

The recurring dream- or was it a vision?- disturbed her, and she was always anxious to see him at Cloud Ruler Temple and make sure he was still alive and well. Each time she saw him again, he seemed to be feeling more capable to handle the task set before him- becoming Emperor and lighting the Dragonfires once again. He would talk to her, telling her of all the things he thought and feared, and she would try to help him in whatever way she could. She loved him more and more as he accepted his title and the changes around him.

That day, her thoughts wandered back to the night they had met.