My thanks to: Janele, Michael, zevgirl, Orthrus of Erytheia, Myrielle, Tule91, eep246, natashaheisenburg, GhostAssassin1993, Shroudedpanther, Nightlain, Biff McLauglin, BottledGreenFairy, and Rasgnarok. Your reviews all made me smile and often provoked thought and inspired the muse!

~o~o~o~

A fast journey on horseback from Falkreath to Solitude might take three days, depending on how many bandits and wolves you ran into. That was figuring in a full night's sleep, stopping for meals, and such. A normal horse could trot and walk, covering thirty to forty miles, without taxing the mount too much. You could push it to double that, but the horse would be quickly spent.

But Shadowmere wasn't exactly a horse, was he? Nessa was amazed by his capacity to gallop endlessly without tiring. Those red glowing eyes and pitch black coat, he was something else entirely. But then again, Nessa wasn't entirely sure she was a person. She wasn't sure any longer what she was.

Her thoughts swung from, "what in Oblivion did I do back there?"to "who is the traitor in the Sanctuary?"

As to the first question, she had an idea. It wasn't the first time she had shouted, but the first time had been so unreal that she had made dozens of excuses. It was a fluke, a mistake of identities. Jarl Balgruuf was deluded. It was a quirk of nature that a strong gust of wind knocked that goat over. That conflagration of wind, ethereal flame and sound that had appeared after that dragon died—it was mere coincidence it coalesced around her.

She had disbelieved everything that had happened that day by disavowing everything and providing the rationalizations that were flimsier than gossamer. But nonetheless, they strengthened in her mind and she had so thoroughly squashed that period of her life, that she had all but eradicated it. The only remnant of that time was a vague discomfort when bards sang that song about the Dragonborn.

"Dragonborn?" She said it tentatively, out-loud. The word was swept away by the wind and drowned out by Shadowmere's thundering hooves.

All right, if so, then why? Nothing came to mind. Her religious upbringing had mostly consisted of tales meant to frighten the orphans into behaving themselves. She knew little to nothing of Dragonborn heroes other than Tiber Septim, Talos, and she was no Talos! Divines, the man was raised to be a warrior, a general. Who was she? An orphan. A nobody who had turned to thieving and murdering to survive, to feel like she belonged somewhere in this world.

Miles more disappeared under Shadowmere's pounding hooves and she was no closer to an answer. But if she were the Dragonborn, could she shout someone to pieces like Ulfric had? That could be a handy thing. What was it she had done up there on that bridge? That word, that threw those men backwards, like they were nothing. What was it?

"Fus?" she said.

Nothing happened.

"Foos. Foosh. Fush. Push?"

Nothing.

There was more to it than speaking. It was a shout, so she needed to shout it, of course, but it might be dangerous to do that on horseback and at this speed. She put it out of her mind. When they stopped, she would try it again.

Next problem.

Who was the traitor in the Sanctuary? She went through the list one by one. Babette, her mischievous little friend? She simply couldn't think of a reason why Babette would betray her. If anything Babette seemed to be entertained by the things that Nessa had done. She did thrive on chaos though. Still, she couldn't believe it. Babette was off the list.

Gabriella? She was rather quiet, kept to herself for the most part, but she had a dry sense of humor. If Gabriella did it, she couldn't even guess as to why.

Festus? He was one of the few who believed they should hold to the old ways. He believed her to be the Listener and he was vocal about his support of her. It seemed unlikely to be him.

Veezara? No. He was always kind to her. A gentle and patient teacher. He seemed like he would die for any of his brothers or sisters.

Arnbjorn. Never. If Arnbjorn wanted her to die, he'd rip her throat out. He wasn't the sort to slink around making deals. And… just no. No matter what had happened, there was still a connection between them.

That left Nazir and Astrid. Nazir had made it clear that he didn't like Cicero and his long-dead corpse of Night Mother. He was happy serving Astrid, and said he'd only answer to her. It could be him. He'd never been exactly friendly to her, but she never seen him be friendly to anyone else either.

All right, so maybe Nazir and possibly Gabriella. It seemed unlikely. That only left…. Shadowmere went quite a long way before Nessa could bring herself to consider it.

Astrid.

That man, Maro, said he made a deal, trading her life for the continued existence of the Brotherhood. Astrid would do anything to save the Dark Brotherhood. But she seemed so pleased with Nessa of late. Still, there was only one person who decided which assassin would go—Astrid.

Of course she'd never send me to kill the real emperor. She would send someone far more experienced, and probably a team of experienced assassins. That would make sense. She must've known from the very start that I would die. It had to have been her. The realization made her almost fall off the horse.

"Whoa!" Nessa reined in Shadowmere and dismounted. She'd been riding for hours and her body hurt. She paced restlessly back and forth, talking to the horse.

"It had to have been her!" she shouted. He watched her passively, breathing a little harder than normal from the long, hard ride. "All those nice things she said, lies. She knew she was getting rid of me!"

Suddenly she bit her lip and inhaled loudly, like she'd been punched in the gut. Betrayed! There wasn't any stopping it now. Hot and furious, the tears came, accompanied by anguished sobs. Not even aware of herself, she sank down to the ground and beat her fists against the dirt until they stung. A furious, heart-wrenching wail tore from her throat. "I never meant… any… anything to her!" Her lungs ached, she couldn't breathe but in racking, shuddering gulps. Choked by sobs and bawling like a baby, she never noticed as she sank further, her cheek pressing against the dirt of the road and her tears turning the dust into mud. How long she sobbed there, groveling miserably in the middle of the dirt road, she didn't know.

"What's the use of going back?" She asked the horse. "Why should I even bother?" The tortured crying subsided and turned into shaky breaths until and her tension racked body relaxed. She felt emptied. Her eyes didn't really focus on anything but the compacted earth near her face. Then a black blob floated into her field of vision and Shadowmere nuzzled her, blowing hot grassy breath into her face and gently snorting. His blood red tongue wiped a long, broad swipe up the side of her face.

Turning onto her back she looked up at the horse. As much as is possible for an equine, he seemed concerned. Gently the demonic mount nudged her with a hoof.

"Arnbjorn," she said softly. "Babette, Veezara." They didn't deserve to suffer for Astrid's betrayal. She had to try to get to the Sanctuary before the Imperials did. She put her arms under herself and pushed to a sitting position. The world spun around her. She was drained from the long ride and the explosion of emotion.

"Gabriella… Nazir… Festus." They didn't deserve to die either.

How did the Imperials even know where the Sanctuary was? Then she remembered the fragment of paper she'd found in the pit with the frost spider. She'd warned Astrid about it. If that spy had sent word out, then they'd definitely know where the Sanctuary was and how to get in.

She got to her feet and mounted Shadowmere, her strength beginning to return. She'd go to the Sanctuary. Not for Astrid, but for all the others. Divines help her, that she get there in time.

"G'ya!" she shouted, kicking Shadowmere in the ribs with her heels. It wasn't even necessary. He took off again at full speed.

Over and over she repeated their names, seeing their faces and remembering how each of them had touched her life. Quiet, patient Veezara. Cynical Nazir and funny Gabriella. Impish Babette, crotchety Festus, and… Arnbjorn. Only one name she refused to think of. If she arrived at the Sanctuary in time she would warn them and leave. And if she didn't….

The thought of losing her friends—of losing Arnbjorn— made her lean into Shadowmere's neck and urge him to go faster.

~o~o~o~

At least business was good in Falkreath. The few days since Nessa had left him, Brynjolf had fleeced a number of sheep, and none were the wiser—yet. He was pressing his luck though. Any day now someone was going to realize he'd swindled them and run him out of town. But the Jarl actually thought Arkay's Miraculous Taproot Tonic had helped his palsy and, by Stendarr's fragrant ball sack, the man was jittering less. Maybe someone was looking out for him.

What if the lass was right? Maybe Nocturnal was shifting his luck, keeping him from leaving.

And he'd no sooner had that thought than he heard pounding of hooves. The town's people who had gathered around to hear his pitch looked down the road. As the black horse came into sight, pelting far faster than any horse should, they shrieked and scattered. Someone jumped on his table and half his inventory fell to the ground and shattered.

He knew that cursed creature even if he barely had a chance to glimpse its rider before they passed. "Nessa!" he shouted after them. "Wait!"

They were gone in a flash. He ran down the road after them, stopping at the stables to consider his options. Even if he could get away with stealing a horse in broad daylight, under the nose of the stable master, he wouldn't be able to catch that demon horse.

Who knows where the demon horse and his rider went? The best way to follow them was to track them, on foot. It would be slow, but at least he should be able to easily follow the horse's tracks. The horse traveling at that speed had left a decent trail.

He didn't look back once, but left his pricey wares—the ones that hadn't been broken— unattended.

~o~o~o~

The common area of the Sanctuary had a decent smithy, and Arnbjorn wasn't unskilled at the forge, having studied some with Eorlund Gray-Mane before he was forced out of the Companions. Forging a new weapon, or maintaining existing ones, centered him, grounded him in the world of humans where weapons were metal, not claws and teeth. He sat at the grinding stone and worked the edge on the axe. This might well be his best weapon yet. The crescent shape of the head was elegant, smooth, and deadly. He had a haft ready to fit it to. Festus had already imbued the axe head with runes of cold. This weapon would have a double bite, first with the blade, then with freezing cold. The handle was carved with designs of his own working: wolves, moons, dying stags, and a beautiful naked woman. "Dibella," he told Astrid. "Azura," was what came to mind when Gabriella had asked. Exactly who the woman was, he never said the same twice. The woman was naked but for a cloak billowing behind her. There was only one person who might recognize the inspiration and it was a tribute to her.

He considered going upstairs to show Astrid his progress on the new weapon. They once shared things like that, but their relationship was considerably less enthusiastic now. Oh, he toed the line, but he held himself back from her. They were, for all intents and purposes together. They appeared as a couple to the rest of the Brotherhood, but even though they shared a bed at night, there was little warmth.

He could imagine showing Nessa his handiwork. She would examine it critically and smile at him, ask him questions. He turned the axe head over in his hands and wished he hadn't thought of her. She was gone. Any day now they'd hear of her attempt to kill the emperor and her failure. Astrid still hadn't admitted it, but he was certain. He hoped she died in battle and not at the headsman's block. He remembered her story about Helgen and how scared she had been.

Turning back to his work, he tried to banish the depression that fell over him, but it wasn't working. It would be better once they heard. Once it was over. Astrid would hold a ceremony in her honor and that would be that. For them, not for him.

He joined the axe head to the haft with a bolt, pounding it into place. It was definitely his finest work. He took an experimental swing, watching it leave a trail of frost glittering in the air. Then he attacked the training dummy. It was beheaded in one well-practiced swing.

A swing to the torso and it lodged there, stuck halfway through the wood. He tugged on it but stopped as he heard a sound as familiar as it was unexpected. The rumbling of the door announced that someone was returning home, but whom? No one was on assignment except Nessa and he doubted she'd ever return, but perhaps she would surprise them all once again. His heart lightened. Perhaps she'd get to see his new axe after all. He gave one last tug and pulled it free.

"Ah, our Listener returns?" Veezara said.

Arnbjorn shrugged but began to make his way up the hallway toward the doorway. His trip was cut short by hearing his wife scream from her office.

"We're under attack!" she shouted.

Then she was with them, moving with vampiric speed that made her nearly a blur. A wound on her shoulder was bleeding copiously. "Block the hallway!" she ordered. "We can hold the Sanctuary. I don't care how many of them there are!"

They began dragging everything they could to the end of the hallway. Tables, chairs, the grinding stone, barrels, and weapons racks were jammed into the end of the hallway and buttressed first with Nazir and Arnbjorn's might, then with heavier objects.

"Who is it?" Arnbjorn asked, grunting as he and Nazir shoved a barrel filled with rocks to help fortify the hastily constructed barricade.

"Imperials," Astrid said. Her face was contorted with rage. "Bloody stinking Imperials!"

"And how do they know about the Sanctuary?" Nazir said. He gave an effort grunt as he unloaded another heavy object to shore up the barricade. "There's only one of us not here."

Astrid said nothing and her stony face revealed nothing.

"She wouldn't," Arnbjorn growled. Nessa was almost certainly dead. He didn't want her to be remembered as a traitor. "Whoever did this is here with us now. If it was even anyone here."

"If we survive this, we will figure it out," Astrid said. "Right now our concern is keeping those Imperials from breaking down the barricade."

As if in answer, the barricade trembled as force was applied from the other side. The hallway was narrow, so it was unlikely they could have enough men abreast to break it down. A battering ram maybe, but the narrowness of the hallway precluded that.

She strode to the far end of the common area where Festus was leaning on his staff. "Festus, can you turn that barricade into the biggest block of ice south of Sea of Ghosts? We might be able to hold them off longer."

"Gabriella and Babette, get as many doses of poison and healing tonics as you can. And for pities sake, don't mix them up!"

For a brief moment Arnbjorn remembered one of the things that he had loved about Astrid, her cool confidence and easy authority.

"One iceberg coming up," Festus said, cackling.

Magic swirled around the elderly mage, enough magic to make the hair on Arnbjorn's arms stand up. There was an immense cracking sound as water, then ice, formed around the barricade. It was a nearly solid block of stuff frozen together.

It would solve the issue of keeping the Imperials out, but there was another problem, they were also sealed inside the Sanctuary. Any alternate exists the place might have had were either so well hidden and forgotten, or long buried under collapsed tunnels. That fact wasn't lost on his wife.

She pulled him aside and spoke quietly so the others wouldn't hear. "I think there's no way out, my wolf. Are we only postponing the inevitable?" Her eyes showed the worry and concern she'd never let the others see.

"What? You're saying we should just give up? Surrender maybe?" he growled, but softly. "They'll just kill us another way. You'd like that better?"

She shook her head and smiled grimly. "No. I'd rather die fighting. Or not at all really." She lifted her hand and caressed his cheek.

Grasping her hand, he kissed the palm. Suddenly he regretted how at odds they'd been the last few weeks and he betted she did too. There was nothing like impending death to focus the mind of their real priorities.

"What if…" she mused. "What if there is a way out and we don't know it? Could you sniff it out? Maybe as a wolf?"

He nodded. "I can try." He transformed and loped off down a hallway, starting in the kitchen, and carefully sniffed the air currents. Of course there was the chimney for the fireplace, but it was too narrow for any of them to escape through. Maybe Babette could, but he doubted it.

He moved every barrel, every rug, each stick of furniture, looking for a secret way out of the place, but everything seemed like it was carved out of solid stone. There were still a lot of rooms to search and he wasn't going to give up easily.

~o~o~o~

Arnbjorn had gone. Gabrielle and Babette were in the alchemy lab preparing potions and poisons. Festus was sitting down, looking depleted from the enormous spell he had cast. In a fight, he probably wouldn't have much left to give. Nazir was sharpening his weapon and Veezara was crouching near the barricade, meditating. He looked insensible to everything going on around them, but Astrid knew he was readying himself for a battle.

That there would likely be no battle, she didn't have the heart to tell the Argonian. They'd die here, starving like cornered rats, and all because of what she'd done. If she could—if by her own death she could change this—she would cut her own throat right here. Arnbjorn had to find a way out. Why, by Sithis, hadn't see ever seen to constructing a bolt hole? They'd been to hard-pressed to survive. There hadn't been enough jobs, enough money and when there had been, she didn't want to deny her assassins their well-deserved rewards.

Well, there was no sense in marinating in mistakes made. Right now she had a job…

Her thoughts were interrupted with a sound that sounded like the rumbling of thunder, or an earthquake. Even Veezara was jolted out of his altered state of consciousness. He looked up at her and hissed, "Sister?"

That was all he had time to say as something crashed into the barricade and the iced structure shook with an explosion. As soon as the first explosion subsided it was followed by a second thundering.

"Move it!" Astrid screamed. "The barrier isn't going to hold."

Everyone backed up, edging further into the great hall. The thunder ended with another explosion.

"They're rolling barrels of oil into the barricade," Nazir said. "I suspect it's burning."

Astrid was surprised to hear him sounding as nonplussed as ever.

Nazir sniffed the air. "Yes, rancid olive oil. Well, at least they've found a good use it when it goes bad. I suspect we'll have to fight soon."

The look Astrid shot him was one of disbelief, but the Redguard assassin just shrugged and one corner of his mouth quirked up into a half smile. "Aw, come on. It's a glorious way to go, you have to admit."

Astrid drew her blades and frowned at him. "I can think of better ways."

Drawing his sword, Veezara gave the Redguard a grim smile. "We will meet in the Void, brother. To a glorious death!"

Festus, ever the most practical and plain spoken member of the brotherhood had a different opinion. "Burning to death might be fine for others, but judging from the screams of my victims, it isn't pleasant."

"I hope you've got some mana potions, Festus," Astrid said. "You're going to need them."

"I've got some, but who are we kidding? None of us is going to survive this."

His fatalism stung Astrid. He was right, of course, but she would not give up and she wouldn't allow him to give up. She strode over to the old man, nearly standing on his toes, and slapped him viciously. "Listen you old draugr, you might be ready to die, but none of the rest of us are. If you're giving up, then perhaps I should send you to Sithis right now."

She drew her dagger and held it against his neck. "Say the word and I'll send you to our lord," she hissed.

Festus laughed. "Oh, I'll fight to the end, but not for you or anyone else. I just want to take as many of them with me as I can."

The intensity dimmed in Astrid's eyes. She nodded curtly and withdrew the dagger. "Good man."

The barricade was rocked again by another explosion and it was clear the ice was melting. A trickle of water was becoming a stream.

"Festus, get Gabrielle and Babette. We don't have much more time."

~o~o~o~

Notes: Sorry about the cliff-hanger, but I realized this chapter is going to be really long and I didn't want to go too long without posting something.

While writing this chapter I wondered why they didn't escape through whatever means the Dragonborn escapes in the game, so hopefully my explanation is plausible.

Thanks so much to everyone that reviewed last chapter, it really made me remember why I spend time writing this stuff. I love the comments and feedback.