The rain continued to fall. Falco stared at the dark roof of their tent as the rhythmic sound of small drops of water impacting canvas played an all too familiar melody. It was a warm night, a night devoid of any sort of breeze which partly explained the damp sheen to his skin this evening as sleep eluded him. He had tried to remain as still as possible for the benefit of the man lying next to him, but Dyus' quiet voice was proof that he had not succeeded.

"Still not able to sleep?"

Falco turned his head towards the voice, and the man who owned it. Dyus was lying on his stomach, his head resting on his crossed forearms, his face turned towards Falco and looking back at him. It was pitch dark outside, the thick cloud layer that seemed to cover all of Skyrim blocking out any light from the moons or stars; but Falco had no trouble recognizing the shape of the man next to him. They had been sharing a bed, whatever form that bed had taken, for almost two years, and Falco was certain that he could close his eyes and trace Dyus' form from memory. Falco could not sleep on his stomach for any length of time without his shoulders protesting loudly, and he envied the younger man's ability to do so. Dyus seemed to pluck his thoughts from the air in that moment, moving closer and fitting himself into the crook of Falco's left arm, his own left arm and leg wrapping around him and pulling him in closer still.

"If it worries you this much, then do not tell them," Dyus said, "not tomorrow, nor the day after that; not if it causes you so much grief."

"Tomorrow, next week, next month. How long will it take me to summon the courage? The longer I delay the harder it becomes. It is like a sour tooth. It needs to be dealt with, and it is best done quickly."

"They will not cast you out. I am certain that they will not. You know them as well as I do. They selected you themselves, well before they selected me. They are good judges of men. Trust their judgment now."

"It is not them that I do not trust. It is myself that I doubt. I have lied to them for the entire time I have known them. I should have confessed before the ceremony. They accepted me under false pretenses. They are honorable, and I am convinced that their honor will require that they banish me."

Dyus lifted his head from Falco's shoulder so that his face was just above the face of his lover.

"It was a lie of omission, one that a previous oath, and your duty as an officer of the Legion, required you to tell."

"I know."

Falco had felt no qualms about keeping his origins secret from Soran at the beginning because it had not been Soran that had recruited him, and Soran had not been his mission. Falco's mission, in its original form, was to infiltrate Krev's gang, and to report their activities. It took very little time for Falco to identify the flaw in the Legate's mission, a flaw that he reported during his next meeting with Legate Acenar. But upon learning that Krev's gang was not, in fact Krev's gang, Acenar had not cared, or if he did it did not change Falco's mission. There were Imperial spies within all of the bandit and brigand groups in Skyrim, as there were in any large force of men and women who might at some point in future decide that their best interests lay in opposing the Empire.

But Falco had drawn a sharp line when it came to deceiving Dyus once their relationship had developed into more than just friendship. Dyus had simply sat quietly while Falco told his tale before drawing a curtain on the whole matter with an equally simple statement.

"Well, that explains where you occasionally wander off to, and why."

But even in the dark Falco could see that Dyus was not about to let this matter rest just yet.

"You will violate that oath, and risk banishment from the Silver Hand as well, with your confession. And yet you will do it anyway? Why?"

"Because it is the right thing to do. I cannot deceive them any longer. They deserve better from me, and I deserve better from myself."

"Then I will stand at your side when you tell them; but I will wager gold that they will not dismiss you. Soran will remain calm. It is Hellina's temper you have to fear. Best if you tell them in an open field if you wish to avoid having heavy objects flung at your head. Perhaps you should carry a shield for protection.

Falco smiled at the face above him before leaning up and kissing that face warmly prior to asking his question.

"How much gold?"

The storm flaps of the tent were securely tied closed. Not to keep out the cold; the night air was uncommonly warm. Neither were they closed to keep out the rain, which fell gently straight down from the heavens on this almost windless night. If anyone asked her tomorrow why she had chosen to do so Salama would state, with some modicum of truth, that she had closed them to keep small animals on the outside while she was inside. If she were the expand that morsel of truth to its fullest she would admit that it was mostly to provide her and the man lying with her on the floor of the tent the privacy that the two naked lovers required so that they could give their love free reign. It was Salama's bed roll, added to Anja's and covered with a soft blanket, that the pair lay on as their damp bodies, his covered in light skin and hers covered in a darker variety, cooled slowly. With the tent flaps tightly closed their earlier efforts had made the interior of the canvas structure warm indeed. But their shared amorous fire was presently, though only temporarily, spent; and the constant rainfall had begun to cool the interior air, though not to the point that either felt the need to pull a sheet over their commingled bodies.

"I will miss you while you are away," Terek said to the woman who dozed lightly beside him. They were both wrapped in the afterglow of their love making, and it took some effort for Terek to stay awake. He had never considered himself any sort of slouch when it came to love, but Salama had an appetite, and ample energy to indulge it.

"I will miss you as well," she replied in her warm voice, a little warmer, and a bit rougher, than usual while her voice recovered from its earlier gasping and vocalizing when her passion had steadily risen in volume and intensity.

They had both met the warrior in Heljarchen when they had answered the village's request for assistance following the troll attacks, but only Salama had remembered her name. It was Cruith that had supplied the name of her husband.

"Felisi is her name. Her husband is Beylan. He is a hunter, and a fisher. She is a warrior of some renown."

"She looked as if she could have dealt with a troll on her own," Terek had said.

"She is lucky to not have tried, since there were a pair of trolls. We were fortunate that those two Companions arrived," Salama had replied, "I would have bet a handful of gold coins that the man was too drunk to be of any use, but it seems that, being his natural state of existence, he has learned to compensate."

"It did not hurt that she had feathered that troll with no less than four arrows before he bashed its head in with his mace."

It had been when they had returned to the village for their payment, the head of one of the trolls presented as proof of services rendered, that Salama and Felisi had become acquainted. But it was Cruith that had made the final arrangements for the group of Dunmer women, and one man, to make a pilgrimage to Winterhold, a journey that Felisi had made more than once but which would be a new adventure for the other women in the group.

"It will be a special time for all of you," Terek said, "it is not often that you have an opportunity to speak your native tongue in such a large group."

"Cruith's southern accent can be hard to penetrate at times, and her choice of words would have residents of Blacklight rolling their eyes," Salama said, "when she and Nora get the bit between their teeth it can sound like a foreign language to me. But Felisi is a northerner, as was my mother; so she and I will converse in the goi hizkuntza."

"Will you teach me your northern language?" Terek asked.

Salama began to gently massage his leg with her foot as she turned her head to look at him, her right hand coming up to stroke his cheek.

"Maite zaitut," she said, forming the words sensuously with her lips.

"You have already taught me that," he replied with a smile as he captured her hand in his.

She stopped her massaging so she could roll over and straddle him.

"It is an excellent starting point," she said as she lowered her mouth to his.

"It is fortunate that the spell works on roofs as well as it works on bath tubs," Anja said as she lay in Eofel's bed and observed the latest location to drip water. It was the third such leak that Eofel was forced to repair herself, and while her spells were not a permanent solution, they would keep the two women dry through the night, and into the morning if the pair chose to remain in bed and enjoy each other's company that long.

"It is a different spell from that one, but it will keep us dry tonight, and tomorrow."

"I will hold you to that promise," Anja said as she welcomed the young Healer and Roof Repair woman back into bed.

They had not run directly from the bath house to Eofel's home; their newfound attachment was not quite that heated. Anja had left the bath house first, her hair still damp, and her skin still pink from the heat of the water and the heat of their passion. More than one member of the Hand, upon seeing her smiling face as it passed by on the rainy afternoon, wondered what it was she had to be so happy about. Eofel had remained behind for a short time, to clean the water in the pool and the floor around it, her own skin, and the heart beneath it, flushed by an excess of blood flow, mixed with a healthy dose of joy. Her short journey from the bath house to her infirmary went unobserved, and it was almost an hour before her next patient appeared, by which time she was back to her normal self, her professional demeanor back in place. But both women spent a good portion of the afternoon and early evening thinking of their earlier encounter, and while they did not discuss it openly during dinner as they sat together in the common room of the large house, their smiles, and glances, and giggling garnered enough attention that they concluded their meal and left as soon decorum allowed.

"You have the tent to yourself tonight," she had said simply to Salama as she passed her and Terek on the path to the infirmary, and Eofel's home.

"You are a good friend, Anja, thank you," Salama had replied with a smile and a glance at Terek. Anja realized that her friend had misinterpreted the reason for the statement, but felt no obligation whatsoever to explain.

There was now a trail of clothing between the locked door of Eofel's house and the bed in which the two women now lay. Their second time together was not as ravenous as the first. Now was a time for a more thorough exploration, a slower rhythm as each of them discovered what the other preferred, each touch of hand, or mouth, or tongue made sweeter by the knowledge that they had the entire night together rather than a stolen moment in a public bath house.

Now, on the second floor of the house, as the sound of the rain as it struck the leaky roof above their heads, both women felt as if they had all the time in the world, and that they were the only ones inhabiting it.

"What was it like in the College?" Anja asked as they lay together. The top floor of her house was much warmer than the bottom one; a blessing in winter, but soon to be a curse in summer. Both windows were opened, which allowed what little cross breeze there was to cool the room somewhat as well as adding the unadulterated sound of the rain that continued to fall outside.

"It was a happy time. I learned much, and made many friends," Eofel answered as she massaged Anja's strong back, "some of them will still be my friends even if I lived to a ripe old age. But there was no privacy, not really. And it was very cold. The hardiest among us would sneak away to some private, freezing alcove only to return a short time later, shivering but happy. Privacy such as this was available only in our dreams."

"But you had lovers before me, that much is obvious. You are no novice."

"Compared to you I feel like one. You know so much more than I do."

"Gods, you make me sound like a libertine," Anja replied with a small laugh. But the laugh did not hide the fact from Eofel that she had hurt Anja's feelings.

"Forgive me," she said as her throat closed and her tears began to form, "I did not mean to hurt you."

Anja wrapped her arms around Eofel as tears finally escaped her eyes and rolled down her face.

"I know that you did not. It is not your fault. I am too sensitive is all."

Eofel laughed as she wiped her face.

"I said exactly those words to Hellina when I first met her and she called me child."

"Well then, we are evenly matched. Two sensitive peas in the same pod," Anja answered as she kissed Eofel's forehead.

A gust of wind traveled through the windows, bringing damp cool air with it. Anja reached up and pulled the sheet over them both before she began to stroke Eofel's arm gently.

"Have you ever laid with men?" Eofel asked after a moment of quiet.

"Yes. It was pleasant, but I cannot recommend it over this," she replied as she snuggled closer to indicate what the two of them shared, "it is perfectly acceptable for a quick release, but it does not suit my desire for something deeper."

"The Archmage is quite attractive. I dreamed about him from time to time. But he is Father to my dear friend Sara, and he is twice my age."

"Gwenyfe and Vala are positively smitten with him. And Sharn...I am not prone to blushing, but some of the things she said..."

Eofel laughed at the look on Anja's face before she rolled on top of her and used the tip of her nose to gently trace the contours of her face. She stopped as their eyes met and her hand began to drift downwards, which caused Anja's back to arch slightly in response.

"Again?" Eofel asked in a voice that was little more than a whisper.

Anja nodded her head in agreement as her eyes stayed fixed on Eofel's.

"Gods, they are at it again," Ria said, her face pressed against Njada's back so that the words vibrated through her torso.

Njada had not needed her lover to point out the fact that Aela and Skjor were arguing again; though it was more appropriate to say that the two members of the Inner Circle were still arguing, because both women were certain that this was merely a continuation of a disagreement that started almost a week earlier. Neither of them could hear the words clearly, their room was at one end of the hallway while it sounded as if the raised voices were at the other end, or on the stairs leading to the large common room above. The sound of the rain outside was almost inaudible in their room that was completely below ground; a fall of rain that had begun almost on the same day as the argument that was now keeping Ria and Njada awake.

It was an argument concerning the Companions, the Silver Hand, and the evolving relationship between the two. Ria and Njada's names were never specifically mentioned, but both women knew full well what the phrase some of our number meant when Skjor uttered it as he gave voice to his complaint.

But his was the minority opinion. Aela stated plainly that as it pertained to Ria and Njada's relationship with Dralof she considered it no one's business but theirs; an opinion that had pleased them and angered Skjor. Neither of them had been surprised in the least when Aric had spoken up for them, not only as a Companion himself, but as a Champion of Dibella, and an Agent of Mara; titles that carried a fair amount of weight where it pertained to matters of the heart.

"Do not presume to stand in place of two of the Gods, Skjor," Aric had said gently but firmly, "it is not your place to tell two women who they should love and who they should not. The Divines know nothing of earthly associations when they bestow the gift of Love, and we should follow their example."

But he had also spoken strongly as a Companion, as had Kodlak himself; a fact that had stunned all of them.

"I have met more than one Silver Hand," Kodlak had said, "in another lifetime they could have been my children. We are at odds, and have been for generations; I acknowledge that, but I do not feel that it requires me to hate them."

That disclosure seemed to still be the sharpest thorn in Skjor's side. Ria and Njada were happy to no longer be the main target of his anger, and both felt that was exactly why Kodlak had made his confession.

Before learning the true nature of the Inner Circle neither woman would have been concerned by such an argument, believing that it could result in nothing more dangerous than bruises, or a rare broken bone; either of which could be treated quickly by Danica. Now that they were better informed their level of concern increased greatly. Ria pressed herself back against Njada as her hands and arms covered Njada's where they wrapped around her torso. Njada intertwined her legs with Ria's and held her tightly as both of their hearts beat in unison at their elevated rate. Neither of the Companions could be (or would be by anyone even passingly acquainted with them) described as shy, or lacking courage, but in that moment each was acutely aware of what could happen if one or both of the members of the Circle lost control and transformed into beasts that could easily break down the locked door and slaughter the two naked women in their bed. Neither of them knew how long they lay there, their ears sharply tuned to identify any sound that might alert them to such a danger. But the sounds of disagreement began to dissipate finally, and the lovers began to relax, as their breathing and heart rates slowed.

They fell asleep, their legs and arms still interlaced, within a minute of each other.