CHAPTER FOUR – THICKER THAN WATER (AND THIEVES)

Two days later, I was waiting for Mercer outside the Riften stables, preparing to embark on what would be the longest journey of my life. I'm speaking figuratively, of course. In terms of actual distance, I'd made journeys a darn sight longer. But I'm not talking about the twelve-hour ride from Riften to Snow Veil Sanctum. I'm talking about the fact that when I finally returned to Riften from the Sanctum, almost everything about my world had been changed.

I've said a few times already, Leonardo, that you don't get some great ominous, inexplicable feeling of foreboding before something bad happens. That's stories, not real life. But I have to admit that on this one occasion, I felt something. It wasn't inexplicable, of course. I knew exactly why I felt what I did, the cloying sensation of mingled dread and eagerness that churned in my gut. It was because I was going to find the woman I suspected to be my mother, and because this woman was a traitor, and because I had no Gods-damn idea what was going to happen when I found her.

Marcurio was sitting on the stable wall next to me, shooting a glance at me every minute or so. I wasn't under any illusions that Mercer would let him come. By now the whole Guild knew that I worked with him on most of my solo missions, and no one had an issue with that. But Mercer was unlikely to want an outsider brought along on such a sensitive mission, and I wasn't about to argue with the Guildmaster.

It was comforting, though, to have the person I trusted most in the world beside me while I tried to prepare myself for whatever the heck was in store for me.

'There's another thing I don't understand,' I said, watching the Redguard stable-hand throw bundles of hay over the stable doors to the waiting horses. 'Mercer still doesn't trust me. And why should he, when the person we all think's my mother has just turned up out of the blue and started trying to rip the Guild apart? If anything, he should be more suspicious of me than ever. So why's he taking me along? Bryn said it was all about trying to keep everything just between him and Mercer and me so the rest don't panic, but…'

'Maybe it's a test.' Marcurio fiddled absently with a clump of moss growing on the wall. 'Maybe he's taking you along because he thinks you're Karliah's daughter, not despite it. He gets a good look at the both of you, it'll be obvious whether you're really related, or whether he's just imagining things. And then, either you side with her, or you side with him.'

I frowned. 'I don't know. You think he'd be willing to risk fighting the both of us at once? I mean, everyone says he's a good swordsman, but… that good?'

It was an odd thing to think about. In my line of work, the vast majority of the people I fought were bandits, or guards who'd had only a very basic training or none at all. I'd got used to the feeling that Marcurio and I outmatched the lot of them, that we were never really in danger even if outnumbered. The thought that Mercer might think so little of my skills that he'd be willing to take me on even if I had backup… well, that stung a bit.

'Well, maybe he does trust you. And he's just doing as Bryn said and trying to keep it contained.' He gave me a small nudge. 'Do you always have to expect the worst, miss pessimist?'

'No. I usually expect to flounce in and win, since that's what I always do. But this is different. It's not some heist, it's the mother I've been wanted to find since I was eight years old. I know I have Ahkari, and I love her, but I've got to know who I am, Marc. And I don't want it to end with me having to kill her – or her killing me, for that matter, for pretty obvious reasons. I definitely don't want it to end before I can get any answers. It's just…' I sighed, pursing my lips. 'There's a million ways this could go wrong, and honestly? I'm bloody scared.'

I didn't often admit something like that, show weakness like that, and Marcurio knew it. His face softened, and he slid a little closer to me.

'You can handle this, Mel,' he said quietly. 'Even if you don't have me around to do most of the work for you this time.'

I glared at him.

'Trust me, you can see this through. However it goes down, you can cope with it. If it goes pear-shaped, come to the Bee and Barb and we'll both get drunk as Nords at New Life Festival until you've forgotten about it. And if it all turns out fine, come to the Bee and Barb anyway and we'll get just as drunk to celebrate.'

I couldn't help cracking a smile at this. 'Sounds like a plan to me. If only I knew what 'going fine' would actually be. I mean, best case scenario is I get to meet my mother, I find out it's all been some big misunderstanding and she's innocent, and we can all go home happy. But seriously, how likely is that to happen?'

'It's about as likely to happen as the Thalmor suddenly announcing that they love all races equally and that from now on they'll be walking around the streets handing out sweetrolls. But you never know, there's always a chance.'

For a moment, I chuckled along with him, then stopped as I saw the city gates open and a familiar figure in black leathers stride through them and head for the stables. I sucked in a breath, glanced at Marcurio and jumped down from the wall.

Reaching us, Mercer cast a narrow-eyed gaze over Marcurio for a second or two, then turned to me and declared, 'Your boyfriend can't come.'

'He is not my boyfriend,' I snapped, then, remembering this was my leader I was speaking to, added, 'I get it, boss. Secret business and all that.'

'It's a Guild mission for members of the Guild,' Mercer told me, his voice his usual growl. 'No mage hirelings.'

'That's fine. Didn't expect any different. Just thought it was worth bringing him along to ask you,' I said quickly. 'Marc and I work well together, is all.'

My Guildmaster folded his arms. 'Well, now you can learn to work well un-together.'

'Got it.' I couldn't help but feel a little wave of irritation sweeping over me – the Guild knew that Marcurio and I were a team, and if they had trusted him so far, the least Mercer could do would be to send him away with some semblance of politeness. Sure, Mercer was never polite to anyone, really, but… I felt Marcurio deserved better.

'I suppose I'll see you when you get back, then.' Marcurio had stuffed his hands into his pockets in a display of nonchalance, but his brow was furrowed, and I could tell that he was no more happy about Mercer's decision than I was. 'Try not to walk into any spike-filled traps. Don't press buttons that have 'do not press' metaphorically written all over them. And…' He hesitated. 'Don't die. You're my best client, after all. I don't want to lose my most reliable source of income.'

I snorted. 'That all I am to you, huh?' Before he could answer – and Gods only know what he would have said if I'd had the sense to wait for him to do so – I gave him a light punch to the shoulder, grinning. 'Come on, I'll be fine. I'm travelling with the Guildmaster.'

He gazed at me for a second, then gave a single, sharp nod. 'I hope everything goes well, Melyna. I'll be in the inn.'

'Thanks,' I said, because he knew he was talking about more than the mission going well. He couldn't tell me, I hope you find your mother, not in front of Mercer. But Marcurio and I had become pretty skilled at saying what we needed to in situations where we couldn't talk openly, or indeed when we couldn't talk at all.

Mercer was beginning to glare, so I gave Marcurio one last smile. 'See you soon, pack mule.'

He rolled his eyes, raised a hand in farewell, and set back off towards the city gates.

I wish I hadn't cut across him before he could answer that question, the one about what I was to him. Would he have answered, answered honestly, with Mercer standing right there? I don't know. But as long as he said something other than 'yes,' then maybe it would have set me thinking, thinking properly, about what he was to me. Maybe I'd have told him that the reason I wished he could come along wasn't just because we made a good fighting team. That it was because I trusted him and felt safe around him in a way I didn't with Mercer. Maybe I'd have told him that I knew that if everything went wrong in Snow Veil Sanctum, it would be easier to cope if I had him there with me.

Maybe I'd have told him that I was afraid, and he made me feel braver.

But I was younger, and I was an even bigger idiot than I am now, so all those things were left unsaid as that orange-robed figure headed back towards Riften. And yes, everything worked out in the end, but Divines above, but it terrifies me sometimes to think of just how close I came to leaving those things unsaid forever.

Nord tombs are unpleasant places at the best of times, but I think the two hours or so that it took Mercer and I to sneak and battle our way through the Sanctum were the most unpleasant of my life. Honestly, Leo, I think I enjoyed giving birth to you more, and I didn't have a fun time of that at all, for the record. Now I think about it, there are parallels. Having you, and trawling through Snow Veil: both had a flipping incredible end result. But to get it, I had to go through complete and utter bloody Oblivion.

Draugr are a nightmare, for one thing. And I mean that in both the they're difficult to deal with and the they're horrendous monsters sense of the word. Creepy as heck, with those glowing eyes and those hissing voices, and the fact that they just… keep coming. Shoot 'em right in the papery mess that's what left of their heart, and they keep coming. Put an arrow in the eye socket and they keep coming. Like one of those Dwemer automatons, lurching towards you, never getting distracted, never tiring, never feeling pain. I've never been more grateful that Teldryn urged me to learn fire magic, because even the simplest flame spell has a Draugr crumpling to ash within seconds. And Mercer clearly knew how to deal with the creatures, because he wasn't trying to stab or slash them, the way a beginner might. He was dismembering them, slicing the heads and legs and weapon arms off at the bases, smashing what was left.

For all that, though, his presence added to the unpleasantness of the whole ordeal. I should probably say, it wasn't that I disliked him, not then. That wasn't it at all. Mercer was my boss, the underworld king, a man with ten times my experience. I respected him, looked up to him. I'm ashamed to admit it now, but that's the truth.

The reason that being around him put me on edge was that I wasn't used to fighting alongside a man like him. Mercer was not Marcurio. The first thing in the mind of my snarky apprentice wizard was always to cover my back, to keep me safe, to throw up a ward if an arrow came my way, to send lightning bolts at an enemy that drew too close to me. He had to keep me alive - I was his meal ticket, after all.

Mercer wasn't like that. Mercer was a man who covered his own back and left me to watch my own. If I was fending off attacks from four Draugr and he was only facing one, there was no point expecting him to disengage from his opponent and come to my aid. He didn't pull me back from traps as Marcurio would have, he just said 'trap,' and I'd have to pull up short before I blundered into it. And yes, whenever Marc did his get-away-from-the-trap yanking thing I could almost invariably snap at him to let go of me – but there was something touching about his concern. Mercer showed none of that.

I told myself it was only to be expected, that of course a thief didn't act like a hireling. But still, it made me feel uncomfortable. Unwelcome. Like I was there only to help kill Draugr, and later Karliah herself. An extra weapon, not a person.

So the sight of the puzzle door was almost welcome. Experience with these ruins had taught me that the puzzle doors are normally set at the end. Happening upon one means that your journey through the gloomy halls and passageways is almost over, that you've reached the heart of the tomb and whatever treasure you came seeking – be it riches or a traitor or a mother – is close at hand. I quickened my pace as we headed down the corridor, glad to nearly be rid of the Draugr and the company of my surly Guildmaster. Maybe he'd lighten up once we'd dealt with Karliah, I thought, and thinking the name snapped me back to reality.

This wasn't just another dungeon crawl. I'd delved into dozens of these places and emerged with jewels and coins in hand, but this was different. I wouldn't be faced with some powerful undead to fight at the end as I normally was – I would be faced with a woman who might or might not be my mother. And I might have to fight her, even kill her.

I glanced at Mercer. He was poor company, but nonetheless, he was my leader, the man who kept the Guild I loved together. My loyalty was to him, not to my mysterious, absent mother. And yet I wanted so badly for there to have been some mistake, for the woman waiting on the other side of that door to be innocent.

You know what they say about being careful what you wish for? There's a reason for it, Leo. Even if you get it, it doesn't always come the way you expected.

While I was standing there like an idiot, trying to wrestle my thoughts into some kind of order, Mercer was busy examining the puzzle door. Hmming under his breath, he ran his fingers along the engraved metal circles, tracing the edges of the central panel. 'Without the matching claw, they're usually impossible to open,' he muttered, tapping the claw slot. 'And since I'm certain Karliah already did away with it, we're on our own.'

'Great.' My voice was heavy with sarcasm, but there was a trace of truth in there. The closer I got to whatever happened once that door opened, the more I found myself wanting to run from it. 'So… we could try knocking. Ask politely. See if she'll let us in for a chat and some revenge.'

Mercer let out a snort. 'Not a bad idea. But fortunately, these doors always have a weakness, if you know how to exploit it.'

So saying, he drew something from his pocket. I was standing a short distance behind him, and he kept his hand tightly clasped around whatever it was, so I didn't get a close look. From the brief glimpse I got, it looked to be some kind of lockpick, brassy-coloured, and with some kind of pale blue-green stone set at the end, like the pommel stone of a sword. Mercer inserted the enigmatic item into one of the cracks between panels of the door, and twisted it slightly – and with a faint click, followed by a low rumbling sound, the door lurched downwards. Bit by bit it sunk, until it was gone, and nothing but an empty doorway stood between me and… my mother? My enemy? Someone completely unrelated to me?

Do you remember, Leo, how I said that I hate being helpless? Well, that was the worst part of this. Whatever was about to happen, I had no control over it. And it was that uncertainty that… I won't lie to you. It bloody sodding terrified me.

So when Mercer gestured for me to take the lead, I didn't question it. Can you believe that? I didn't question it at all. Maybe I told myself he wanted me to go first because elves have better eyesight. Maybe I didn't think about it at all. My thoughts were in such a mess than I strode right across the doorway. I wanted to get this over with – needed to get this over with.

I've actually been looking forward to writing this, you know. The moment when my life went shooting off in a different direction. Let's just hope I can do it justice.

I walked across the doorway. Marched, even. Bow in hand, eyes scouring the murk up ahead for any sign of movement. It was a tall, wide chamber, lit a little by a shaft of dusty light streaming in through a hole in the ceiling. Ahead of me was a broad set of steps, leading up to an elevated area whose back wall was invisible in the darkness. A small patch of snow had gathered on the floor below the opening in the ceiling.

I pulled an arrow from my bow and aimed it towards the steps – if I were Karliah, I thought, I would be lurking in the darkness there, waiting. It occurred to me, suddenly, that I hadn't thought to ask Mercer what kind of fighter the woman was. Because if she were an archer, I might be in trouble if –

There was a faint hissing sound. A sound I might not have detected if I hadn't had the sensitive ears of an elf, or if I hadn't heard the same sound almost every day of my life as I sent arrows flying from my own bow. It was a sound I recognised instantly, a sound that made me reel backwards with a loud curse – but not fast enough.

The arrow struck me on my left upper arm, just underneath the padded shoulder-guard that would have protected me had the shaft hit just an inch higher. I suppose the downside of fighting someone who belonged to your own Guild is that they know all the weak points of your armour.

I was prepared for the pain; I'd been shot before. What I wasn't prepared for was the suddenly feeling of cold that swept over me, as if the arrowhead had split as it entered my flesh and now tiny shards of freezing metal were in my blood, burrowing down to my very core and spreading ice into my veins. I reached up to the arrow, knowing that the best way to deal with a wound like this was to snap the shaft so that the arrowhead wasn't pulled out to leave an open wound - but halfway there, I saw my hand simply stop. Fingers locking in place, unresponsive and still.

And suddenly my legs were cold and dead too, and everything in me was out of balance, and I was crashing to the ground. I'm not sure how fast all this happened – I think it was all within the space of a single second. So perhaps it was the momentum from the arrow that made me fall, so that I sprawled on my back with my head, thankfully, turned towards the chamber ahead.

I lay there, screaming at my body to move, and meeting with no response. The chill of the stone floor reached my flesh even through my leathers. Footsteps sounded behind me, and I felt a sudden jolt of relief – I had almost forgotten that Mercer was there. But he did not bend down to see if I was breathing, nor did he even glance in my direction. He simply stepped over my prone form and strode further into the chamber.

I watched – what else could I do? - throwing silent curses in Ta'agra at my Guildmaster's back. The dread that had been churning in my gut was becoming a knot of fear, real fear. I had been afraid of having no control over what happened, but this was a new kind of helplessness, and it was a thousand times worse.

There were actually quite a few benefits, I was later to discover, to being shot with an arrow whose tip had been dipped in a paralysis. But at that moment, I knew only one: I was in a perfect position to be a spectator to everything that happened next.

What happened next was that Mercer stopped walking and stood in the centre of the cavern, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword. And ahead of him, a figure melted out of the shadows at the top of the steps. Every step was as silent as if it had been made with a Khajiit's bare, velvet feet. And indeed there was something altogether catlike about the woman who ghosted down the stairs, in her lithe build and measured, fluid way of moving. This was someone who was used to life in darkness and silence.

My eyes, of course, went straight to her face, but she was too far away, the cavern was too dimly lit, and in any case, a hood concealed most of her features. But I could tell that Mercer recognised her, because he stiffened, and from the cloud of vapour that floated up from his mouth, I could tell that he was letting out a long breath, one he'd probably been holding in for some time.

I noticed, as Karliah reached the foot of the steps, that she had a bow in her hands. I would have swallowed, if I'd had any command over my body. Here she was at last, the woman who might be my mother – and she held the same weapon I favoured.

Mercer seemed to notice what she was holding at the same time as I did, because his grip on his sword hilt tightened. 'Do you honestly think your arrow will reach me before your blade finds your heart?'

The reply came, in a voice thick with a Morrowind accent and taut with anger. 'Give me a reason to try.'

My thoughts were sluggish and seemed to resent being brought to my mind at all, and I was sure that whatever poison was freezing my limbs had slowed my heartbeat. But at any other time, I was sure it would have quickened. Gods and Daedra, if this was my mother, I had finally, finally heard her speak. Was it that quiet, fierce that had been the first to speak my real name?

'You're a clever girl, Karliah.' Mercer had started to pace back and forth like a Senche-tiger waiting to pounce, never taking his eyes from Karliah's face – nor his hand from the hilt of his sword. 'Buying Goldenglow estate and funding Honningbrew Meadery was inspired.'

Karliah remained motionless – almost as motionless as me. 'To ensure an enemy's defeat, you must first undermine his allies,' she said. 'It was the first lesson Gallus taught us.'

What kind of woman was she, my maybe-mother? What kind of woman would wait twenty five years to finish a vendetta, and would make such an elaborate trap, and would throw the lessons of the man she murdered at his best friend as she finally confronted him?

Mercer was pacing, still restlessly pacing. 'You always were a quick study.'

I saw Karliah's slim figure tense, every muscle becoming poised and tight, as if she were a bowstring suddenly drawn back and made rigid, ready to fire. And when she spoke, there was a fire in her voice that made my thoughts – in turmoil, slow as they were – suddenly go still and quiet. As if even my subconscious knew that something was going to happen. Now.

'Not quick enough,' she almost hissed, 'or Gallus might still be alive.'

Sorry for my language, Leo. I know I said I wouldn't swear in this. But what I thought in that moment was something like, what the actual shit?

It wasn't just the words she said. It was the bitterness behind them. More than that – fury. As if twenty-five years' worth of seething hatred had boiled up to the surface and charged her words.

Mercer stopped pacing, as suddenly as if he'd walked into a wall. There was something painful about the sudden stillness.

'Gallus has his wealth,' he snarled, 'and he had you. All he had to do was look the other way.'

Even in the darkness, and from a distance, I could see the shudder that ran through Karliah's body. 'Did you forget the oath we took as Nightingales? Did you expect him to simply ignore your methods?'

Mercer let out a short, mirthless laugh. 'And what of your methods, Karliah? Why don't you tell me what you were trying to achieve by sending the girl?'

The girl. I think my insides would have twisted if any part of me had been capable of movement. He means me.

There was a pause before Karliah responded. 'What girl?'

'Did you think she'd earn my trust? Help lead me into your trap?' There was an odd note of something like triumph in Mercer's voice now. 'Maybe you should have checked who you were shooting.'

'I sent no one!' Karliah snapped. 'Which should hardly surprise you, since you're the reason I've spent the last twenty five years alone –'

'Enough of this mindless banter!' Mercer wrenched his sword free from its sheath with a metallic hiss that echoed a dozen times from the walls of the chamber. 'Come, Karliah. It's time for you and Gallus to become reunited.'

For a moment, I forgot that I was paralysed, because even with my limbs frozen, I tried to rise. I needed to be on my feet, I needed to have my weapon in hand, I needed to help. My thinking was still laboured and half of what I'd heard I barely understood – but I knew one thing. Karliah was not the enemy here. Mercer was the enemy, the man I'd called my Guildmaster was the enemy, and now he was advancing, blade bared, upon the woman who I thought might be my mother.

So I tried to move, but of course, nothing happened. All I could do was bellow in my head in Mercer's direction. Don't hurt her, bastard. Don't you dare hurt her.

But I needn't have worried. Karliah made no move to reach for her quiver. Instead, her hand dropped to her side – digging into a pocket, perhaps – and as she raised it, I glimpsed the light glinting on the glass of a potion bottle. The question of what kind of potion it contained was answered a moment later, as she lifted it to her lips and tipped it down her throat – and vanished.

'I'm no fool, Mercer.' The now-disembodied voice was soft again, and I realised that she was retreating into the gloom at the far end of the chamber. 'Crossing blades with you would be a death sentence. But I can promise – the next time we meet, it will be your undoing.'

Silence fell as she finished speaking, and it stayed, until Mercer spat, turned, and marched over towards me. He kept his sword drawn, and I screamed silently to the woman who'd vanished into the shadows across the cavern from me. Help me. Azura's mercy, I'm your daughter. Freaking help me.

But no one appeared like a gift from a merciful Divine to stand in the path of the man who strode over to me. Who loomed over me with a smirk playing around his lips.

'How interesting,' he drawled, twirling his blade slowly in his hand. 'It appears Gallus's history has repeated itself. I suppose it runs in the family, being stupid enough to walk into this place and think you can escape my blade.'

He pushed my head up with his foot, the better to look into my face. He stared down at me for a few seconds, and his lip curled.

'I don't know what part you were really playing in this, and honestly? I find it hard to care. But just in case you thought I was fooled, I always knew who you were. I know whose brat you are, I knew the moment I saw you. And now your mother has provided me with the means to put an end to you, just as I did your father. You and he can share a resting pace. Maybe they should rename this place, call it the Desidenius family tomb.'

He laughed harshly at this, but I was barely listening. Gods. I'd come here hoping to confirm my mother's identity. And suddenly I'd learned my father's.

'But do you know what intrigues me the most? Whatever you were really doing with the Guild, this was all possible because of you. And once I catch up with your mother - because rest assured, I will - it'll be thanks to you that it'll be finally over.' Mercer knelt beside me, pressing the tip of his sword against my stomach, and sneered down into my face. 'Farewell, Melyna Desidenius. Give your father my regards. I'll be sure to give your boyfriend yours.'

And he punched the blade down into my chest.

I felt no pain. Perhaps it was the poison, slowing everything in my body, fogging my mind. Or perhaps it was the fact that as Mercer drove his sword into my flesh, there was no room in my head for any pain-related thoughts to surface. Because there was only one thought in my mind in that moment, a desperate silent scream.

Don't hurt Marcurio.

But I could only hold that thought in place for a second. The whole world was slowing, my vision was clouding, and even the stone floor beneath me seemed to be giving way. I let it go. I didn't have the strength to hold on.

And everything vanished, like my mother, into shadows.

Here's a life tip, Leonardo – try to avoid life-threatening injuries. Aside from the whole life-threatening thing, there's also the fact that waking up after one is like waking up from a hangover. In short, you feel like shit.

Damn it. I might just have to give up on the whole 'not-swearing' front, kid. It's just instinctive.

But take my word for it, it's not a pleasant experience. There's a cloying feeling of lingering pain. Your head's pounding. And the worst part is that you're afraid to open your eyes. Because the last thing you remember was death moving in to take you. You thought you'd wake up dead, and you're alive, and the one problem with that is that you don't know where the hell you are or how you can still be breathing.

So when I realised I was alive, I lay very still, eyes tightly shut. Blocking out sight meant that I could use my other senses to bring me a sense of where I was, so that I could prepare myself for whatever was waiting for me.

I became aware, quickly, of two sounds: the unmistakable crackling of a fire, and the faint keening of wind. I was outside, then – and, I realised with distaste, somewhere bloody cold. Stretching out my fingers, I felt scratchy cloth against my skin, and beneath it the softness of snow. There was a blanket over me, I realised, and from the fact that the wind I could hear wasn't reaching me, I had to be in some kind of shelter.

Which meant that I couldn't be alone.

Slowly and cautiously, I opened my eyes. I'd been right – I was lying inside a small, open-ended tent, made from animal pelts sewn together in a rough patchwork. The blanket I was lying under had been ripped and repaired so many times that it was more stitching than fabric, and the same was true of the bedroll I was tucked inside. Peering out of the end of the tent, I saw a grey sky thick with clouds. A light snow was falling.

Directly in front of me, a few metres away from the tent, a fire was burning, the flames flickering bravely against the wind and the snow. And seated beside it, back facing me, was a figure I recognised instantly. Obviously female. Slender build. Tattered Guild leathers with a hood drawn up against the weather.

I let out a long, slow breath. Somehow, I wasn't surprised that she was the one who had saved me.

Pushing back the blanket, I wriggled free of the bedroll, stopping and wincing when pain shot through my chest. I had, I realised, been stripped to the tunic and breeches I'd been wearing beneath my leathers, which were folded on the ground beside me, and so I could lift up my shirt and examine the wound Mercer had dealt me. Nothing remained of it now but a thin line, ash-grey against my darker skin. I traced it with a fingertip, my eyes wide. Gods, some powerful healing potions had been at work here.

Dropping my tunic, I glanced up. Karliah must have heard me moving, but she wasn't looking in my direction.

Gazing at her, still and unspeaking beside the fire, I felt none of the fear that had plagued me as I made my way through the Sanctum. Maybe it was because I had nothing to be afraid of any more, not now I knew that she was no traitor, no murderer, no mother to be ashamed of. She was on my side. She had seen – she must have – how much I resembled her. Though it occurred to me, suddenly, that I still hadn't actually seen her face, that I'd only heard people tell me I looked like her. When she finally turned around… I'd see, at last.

Breathing in deeply, I grabbed my boots and jacket, pulled them on, and headed out of the tent. The silent woman at the fireside tensed, but still didn't turn. So I stood behind her for a moment, thinking hard. What the hell did you say to the probably-parent who'd just saved your arse from your backstabbing boss?

In the end, I decided to start with the basics. I coughed, just to make sure she knew I was there, then said, 'Hey. You're Karliah, right?'

It occurred to me once I'd said it that it was an immensely un-dramatic, un-powerful thing to be the first speech she ever heard her daughter say. If I'd been in a work of fiction, no doubt I'd have come up with something better. But I never claimed to be great at keeping to literary tradition.

There was a short pause, while the woman by the fire clasped her hands together. Then she spoke, in that quiet voice I remembered so well from the Sanctum. And what she said told me instantly that all my suspicions – and Brynjolf and Mercer's suspicions – had been right.

Because what she said was, 'Yes, Melyna. I am.'

A shudder ran through me, and I felt the hairs on my arms prick. 'And… I'm going to guess that you know that name because you're the one who gave it to me.'

Another silence. And then, at last, she rose to her feet, pulled down her hood, and turned to face me.

'I did,' she whispered, and her voice was thick with tears.

And next chapter, there will be some long-awaited mother-daughter bonding! I originally planned to continue the conversation in this one, but it was turning out too long; rest assured, it will come soon.

I've been looking forward to this chapter for a while. The Snow Veil Sanctum scene is one of my favourites in the game, and I very much enjoyed writing it, especially adding the little tweaks in dialogue. I hope you think I did this scene justice - any feedback, even just, 'don't worry, you did OK' would be very much appreciated! Thank you for reading. :)