FSE

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_ This was originally a story I posted here about 9 years ago. I never finished the original one and recently felt like completing the story. This turned into a significant rework and an additional 12k words on top of the original! _

_ Please enjoy this much improved version! _

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Preconceived Notions"You have a new contract for me, Astrid? I've heard nothing from the Night Mother."

"Yes. Oh, don't look so distraught. I don't know why she is silent, perhaps the Black Sacrament was performed slightly wrong? Regardless, this one will be easy for you. Hmm, almost like a vacation." The tall, hard-faced woman crossed her arms. "You've been spending far too much time in this cave since you last came back from that meeting with Amaund Motierre."

Astrid walked around a table, tracing her fingers along the wooden edge, long ago worn smooth. A heavy cloth map stretched taut across the surface. Several iron daggers stuck up from prominent points painted on the cloth's surface; deadly exclamation points of victories past and future. She balanced a finger thoughtfully on the hilt of one dagger. It tilted after receiving an unexpected nudge.

"As much as I love the Sanctuary, it is cleansing to leave it. There are only so many hours in the day that you can devote to the ramblings of an old man set in his ways, or a centuries-old vampire locked eternally in the body of a little girl. Don't envy her that, by the way. Can't imagine being stuck as a child. I enjoy my husband's company." Astrid sighed.

"The difficulty of being the last remaining Sanctuary is palpable. I know you understand that and all of your excellent work has been wonderfully unexpected. Things have been a little less business-as-usual after your acceptance into the Brotherhood. I would venture so far as to say that the Brotherhood's few remaining members are more, hmm, optimistic, as of late. We have you to thank for that."

The woman smiled. Very slight, but the first the argonian had seen with no blood involved.

Ariss nodded politely. "I only carry out of the will of the Night Mother in the service of Sithis but, you're welcome."

Astrid nodded with little conviction. Ariss knew Astrid did not particularly care for--or about--the Brotherhood's old ways. She practically laughed at the idea of the Five Tenets that once bound them.

"It is different in the Brotherhood. For most of my life, I was just in the way or an inconvenience. Life-changing surprises have left me as somebody of consequence. I'm just happy I came into a true family like the Brotherhood," Ariss said.

"Indeed, young argonian, the discovery of your talent has been a boon to us."

Astrid pressed the inconvenienced dagger back to rigid attention with a single finger and recrossed her arms. The woman sat lightly on a sparse old wooden throne. Or at least, one that pretended to be one. Red and black leather armor squeaked somberly as she slid against the ancient wood. Ariss loved her armor--the same as Astrid's--but it was not quite as well-worn.

"Anyway, we have business to discuss."

Ariss' shoulders slumped slightly, but she did not vocalize her displeasure. One lesson ingrained in her from hatchlinghood was to never bite the hand that feeds. In her case, she had learned to apply the lesson literally. She cringed inwardly at the punishment she had received for that act; then pushed it from her mind. Subtle body language, that few picked up on, was her preferred method of letting her annoyance out without repercussion. She took the chair opposite Astrid.

Leather creaked in soft protestation.

"I hear the armor is finally beginning to settle. Enjoying it?"

"Yes, very much. This armor is an excellent complement to my skills. The muffling enchantment is quite wonderful. They never hear me coming. And then my blade is at their throat."

"Perfect. You look the part of an assassin with it, compared to that hodgepodge you showed up wearing. It did nothing to show off your litheness, as this fitted suit does."

Ariss felt the light touch of blush tinge her scales. Such gracious words from the Sanctuary's matron! Astrid leaned forward in her chair, steepling her fingers beneath her chin, elbows taking up position on the cloth map.

"Speaking of which, I'm not the only one who has taken notice, am I?" She wore a smirk that told Ariss that she already knew the answer to the question.

Ariss didn't move or respond. She didn't even blink. Her face was a lesson in stoicism. Astrid was correct, but Ariss was unsure of how the woman felt about it. They had done their best to keep it a secret. It seemed like something the rest of the Family didn't need to be privy to. Maybe Astrid just wanted her to own up to it.

"Perhaps, a certain, uh, former Shadowscale." Astrid chuckled when the argonian's stony expression cracked. "Do not worry, Ariss. I met my husband, as I'm sure you know, in this very Brotherhood." Her jubilant smile turned gravitas. "My only requirement is that any internal relationships not negatively impact the performance of either party. Understood?"

"Yes, Astrid," Ariss answered obediently. Despite the insinuation, she felt much better about no longer having to worry about Astrid, or any other Family member, discovering the truth. But, how did she find out?

"Did he tell you?" She blurted out before she could stop herself. A mouth with a mind of its own had gotten her involved with the Shadowscale in the first place.

"Of course not. Despite Veezara's loyalty to me, he would never let me into the secrets of his personal life . . . willingly. He may be the _last_Shadowscale, but he still holds the Five Tenets close at heart. I'd be more surprised if he hadn't attempted taking you under his wing, as it were."

She paused, a mischievous glint in her eye. "No, perhaps, 'under his tail', would be a more appropriate phrase." Astrid quipped with a wicked grin.

"What! Are you spying on us?" Ariss hissed, a mix of surprise and outrage.

"No, no, nothing of the sort. Well, in a way, I suppose I am. I do, however, suggest you avoid that frost spiders' little den. The things he has told me would make a whore flush with embarrassment. I never suspected that you, of all the Family, or even Veezara for that matter, would be so unorthodox," Astrid said, voice dripping with innuendo. "My septims had always been on Babette being the most perverse one."

Ariss felt like her face was going to spontaneously combust! She had never felt so ashamed before. Astrid didn't appear particularly phased--more like entertained. Curse that stupid spider! She thought it had been very queer the way it had watched them so intently. How was she supposed to know that Astrid could communicate with a damned arachnid? Who else in the Sanctuary could claim the same ability? She could just imagine what the others would say.

That poor spider!

So, that's what the tail is really for...

You did what to Veezara!?

Even Sithis would be scandalized.

Wait, wasn't Astrid's husband a werewolf? Who knew what bestial acts the woman and her mate had committed...?

"Might I supplicate that you do not tell anybody else?" Ariss asked, eyes pleading.

"Hah, of course not! As long as you don't tell anybody I can commune with the spider." Astrid whispered conspiratorially.

Ariss nodded quickly. The wave of relief was a salubrious balm to her tortured emotions.

"He's my little secret spy. Oh, he wanted me to inform you that he appreciated the show if you ever found out. Said he tends to get lonely down there." Astrid laughed lightheartedly.

Now Ariss knew the Sanctuary's matron was just being cruel. She shifted uncomfortably and rubbed her scabrous cheeks. Getting caught was something she normally excelled at avoiding. The argonian was unsure how she felt about being part of a spider's sexual fantasies. If they even participated in the act purely for pleasure. Did spiders have sexual fantasies? She resolved that the knowledge was not something she cared to gain. How was Veezara going to handle the news when she told him that Astrid knew about them? Well, she'd leave out the peeping spider part.

"Well," Astrid started with a laugh, unfazed, "enough with the subject changes. Let's get back to your next contract."

Ariss had been regretting even asking about contracts earlier. She only did it because she felt it was her duty to prove to the Brotherhood that she was valuable. Although Astrid already found her indispensable. Now, however, she was more than happy to talk about them. Anything was better than discussing the intimacies of her personal life and whose tail she might have been under.

"A woman named Nif performed the Black Sacrament a few days ago. I just received word from another Family member returning from their own contract. All I know is that she wants her husband dead because he has slept with other women. Also, something about stealing his soul. You'll have to get the details from her yourself. It sounds rather straightforward." Astrid reclined back into her high-backed chair and policed a few unruly strands of hair from her brows. Ariss didn't envy humans and their strange body growths. "I want you to enjoy yourself on this contract, Ariss. So, I'm sending Veezara to assist you."

Her eyes opened wide in surprise. Tasking two Dark Brotherhood agents on the same contract was unconventional. Working with Veezara could prove intriguing, but it was unprecedented. She would be a liar if she said she had not been longing to see the last Shadowscale work. To try to learn from his vast experience and training. He was easily two decades her senior, but neither paid much attention to the fact.

"Don't look so surprised. Yes, sending two agents on the same contract is extremely rare, but it has happened in the past. How you split the payment and workload is for the two of you to decide. So long as it gets done cleanly and inconspicuously, I don't care how you get it done. Do you have any questions, dear Sister?"

"Yes. Do you have any suggestions for what approach would be best?" Astrid was silent for a few moments, tapping a finger against her chin.

"Without knowing the client's exact request for the contract, no. Although, if you're aiming to be discreet, might I suggest having Babette create you a potion to weaken the husband's will further than it already seems to be. I'm sure he'll be taken in by your resplendence. Take advantage of being young and beautiful every chance you can. As long as he's into argonians. Only one way to find out." Ariss smiled at the earlier compliment and joke.

"I certainly hope he's into scales. I'll seek out Babette. Thank you, Astrid." Ariss bowed her head and the older woman smiled serenely.

"Anything for my Family. Now, fetch Veezara and enjoy the break from all this Emperor business."

Ariss nodded and stood from the chair. She was quite looking forward to this contract. It sounded easy and she was being afforded an opportunity to handle nearly everything, Veezara was coming along and she wasn't going to have to go spelunking among rotten corpses. All the Draugr had begun to get on her nerves.

"Oh! Ariss, one more thing before you go." The argonian turned back to the Sanctuary's matron, whose expression was deathly serious. "The Family grows only through recruitment and nothing else. I will not be happy if Veezara returns with a new outlook on life."

It wouldn't be until later when she was strolling through the cold tunnels of the Sanctuary, that she realized what Astrid had meant. That realization made her blush and she unconsciously stroked her abdomen. She wondered if she would want that with Veezara in the future, or if he would even consider the possibility down the road. They had only known each other a few short weeks, after all. Something about the way he treated her made her consider the possibility.

In the here and now, she obediently answered Astrid without really knowing what she was agreeing to and walked down the short stone steps that opened into the Sanctuary's main antechamber. Braziers and candlelight lit the open expanse, reflecting off the moisture that saturated the uneven rock walls. The chamber was warm and slightly humid, broken up by the intermittent breeze that seemed to originate from nowhere.

To her right, a small waterfall, fed by the constant battle of snow and sunlight that waged war on the mountain towering above them, kept a small hot spring of pure, crystalline water at a healthy level; constantly refreshing it and allowing the Sanctuary's inhabitants to use it for bathing. The soft gurgle of the fall left behind a pleasing ambiance that complimented the small talk and signs of life in the Sanctuary.

Light reflected onto the surrounding stone from the water's churning surface and danced with wonderful and exotic patterns on the rock. Ariss liked to pretend it was her own little grotto when she was alone in the chamber. Lie on her back and imagine the shifting light was the changing night sky. The ever-watchful, baleful stained-glass visage of the Dread Lord Sithis watching over her.

Sometimes, when she bathed in the chilly waters, she felt embarrassed. Naked beneath the glowing red luminance haloing Sithis' skeletal figure. Empty, ebony eye sockets reading her, judging her, examining her every flaw.

She was the first Listener the Brotherhood had had in decades. There was no doubt in her mind that Sithis was indeed watching. Perhaps not from the stained glass, but in every darkened corner.

A small distance to her left was the Sanctuary's small workshop: a forge, workbench, and grinding wheel. Not large, by any means, but more than functional for standard needs. Next to that stood a few training dummies; red and white targets crudely painted onto their chests. One even had a metal pail as a helmet. Wooden swords were nailed into their hands. Useful for releasing a little pent-up aggression safely, or testing the sharpness of a newly forged and sharpened weapon.

Personally, Ariss preferred testing and dispelling aggression on the seemingly never-ending supply of bandits and highwaymen polluting the roads between every city. The lack of Imperial Legion presence was glaring with the Jarl only able to protect the cities. Anyone out on the road simply had to fend for themselves.

Veezara wasn't occupying his usual place: sitting cross-legged on the floor away from the practice dummies. A natural stone slope climbed up into the next chamber where the more Arcane inclined could practice their Alchemy or Enchanting. To the right was a flight of stairs hewn from the rock itself. Ariss decided now would be as good a time as any to have Babette concoct a potion for the contract.

She trudged up the stone ramp and entered the next chamber; catching faint whiffs of spider silk and the musk of boiling apothecary ingredients. The centuries-old child vampire sat alone at a small table overlooking the frost spider's den. How the girl--or woman depending on your point of view--could find staring at spider webs so enthralling was beyond her.

A chunk of bread the girl was nibbling on dropped onto the table. She picked it up and continued eating it, chewing slowly. If only she knew how that table was thoroughly desecrated a few days prior the fallen bread would have stayed where it landed. She probably wouldn't even be sitting at the table, or she would be cleansing it with fire. It had taken a surprising chunk of time to get the stains out.

Ariss walked up to the table and motioned at the chair opposite the vampire. "May I?"

"Hello, Ariss. Yes, please, sit. How have you been?" Babette said politely enough. Her young, high-pitched voice did not match her manner in the slightest. There was nothing childlike about her demeanor. Ariss slid into the seat and folded her hands, resting them on the table.

"I'm doing well. Just received another contract from Astrid. Yourself?"

"The same as ever. Causing mischief." Her girlish chirrup was pure evil.

"Well, if you aren't up to any mischief at the moment, would you mind cooking up a couple of potions for me?" Babette's face lit up. A potion for a Family member usually meant something sinister was necessary.

"I do hope it's something delightfully diabolical, Sister."

"I think you'll be pleased. The first potion I need may be difficult. You would know best, of course, so I will defer to your judgment, seeing as I'm no alchemist." The girl vampire watched the Argonian impatiently. Her deceiving smile never wavering. "I need a potion that removes bodily control from the consumer. My intent is for the victim to be aware of their body and senses, but unable to control it."

"Interesting," Babette started with a nod, "such a potion would have many macabre uses. And the second?" She asked expectantly.

"Nothing as complex, just something that makes the victim easier to persuade."

"Simple enough. Give me a few hours to mix those potions up for you, Sister."

"Thank you, Babette."

"I just have one stipulation." She leaned forward over the table, staring into the argonian's cloudy, ice-blue eyes.

"Of course," Ariss replied, trying to mask the trepidation bubbling in the pit of her stomach.

"You have to tell me what you do with the potions. Every. Last. Detail."

Ariss resisted a sigh of relief.

"You'll find the execution I'm planning more than satisfying." The fear of something more demanding from the ancient child vampire mercifully allayed. Fulfilling Babette's request could necessitate revealing her relationship with Veezara. She could cross that bridge if she had to.

"Excellent! I look forward to it. I'll see you in a few hours with your potions, so you can be on your way."

"Thank you, Babette. I appreciate the assistance." Ariss inclined her head in a respectful, familiar bow and stood from the table.

A sound like wind chimes fluttering in an evening summer breeze called for her attention. Curious, Ariss walked around the thick pillar of stone that dominated the center of the chamber and found the Sanctuary's resident old man, Festus Krex, mumbling to himself and fiddling with a small blade. The table he stooped over, looked over by some, probably ancient, horned, three-eyed troll skull; a chalice of bone cradled a flickering green orb, a strange mist rolling from its surface. Arcane runes etched into the table's surface radiated ultramarine from an unknown power source. The glow ebbed and flowed as he spoke in a forgotten tongue she didn't care to ever learn. Ariss was content with the inborn knowledge of the ancient Dragon tongue. Enchanting some blade was far from exciting.

She preferred to bury blades in yielding flesh, not stare at and speak to them.

Without disrupting him, Ariss left him to his machinations and exited the chamber into a faintly lit corridor. The path to the right exited down the flight of stairs into the main antechamber. Straight entered into a room rarely used where the ancient, mummified corpse of the Night Mother dwelled, ensconced in her stone sarcophagus. A ghostly visage masterfully carved into the weather-worn stone. It was the very container where she had hidden, by Astrid's command, to spy on the Keeper, Cicero, and the Night Mother had first spoken to her. That had been an experience she never wanted to relive.

The dank smell of strange oils and lingering death. Trapped in a cage devoid of all light, pressed up against a mummy until it suddenly began glowing with internal radiance. A rasping, gravelly voice, like claws on stone, grating inside her skull. Fear clutched her stomach while the mental intrusion made her physically ill. As Listener, she hoped the next time the Night Mother spoke would be less torturous.

She chose the path that took her to the left, down the corridor. Eventually, it opened into the upper level where several beds and their respective chests flanked the outskirts of the cave's wall. The den opened into the much larger dining hall at the bottom of a long staircase. At the long table, fully set out with enough spaces for every member of the Family, sat the Redguard, Nazir, appearing as if he had just come from the distant deserts of Elsweyr. The Khajit homeland of seemingly infinite sun and sand. Ariss sighed and didn't descend the stairs. Trying to talk to Nazir about anything other than side contracts was like trying to talk to a god: you only felt daft for even attempting.

Veezara was her target and she had yet to find him anywhere. Thinking of the Khajit homeland brought her train of thought to her own as she walked. That was something she envied about the Shadowscale: raised amongst kin and Hist. She had been hatched into slavery in Morrowind. She grew up not knowing the Black Marsh. No naming ceremony, no Hist, no true kin. Second-hand accounts were her only real knowledge of her lost home. She would forever be a Lukiul to the native Saxhleel.

Born under the celestial sign of the Shadow, she would have been destined to be taken to the Dark Brotherhood, to be raised and trained in the arts of stealth and assassination. To become a Shadowscale in service of the Hist. At least, that's how it used to be; the training facility in Archon was no more. She eventually escaped with the rudimentary skills that she was now becoming an expert at. If only the argonian invasion of Morrowind a century-and-a-half earlier had freed her ancestors...

Now she followed a destiny that had revealed itself as her neck waited beneath an executioner's axe. Dragonborn. Not even in her wildest dreams.

The Gods' sense of humor was morose.

With all the possibilities exhausted, Ariss sighed and made her way to the Sanctuary's imposing, skull emblazoned, main door. A door that could recognize friend from foe and speak without a worldly voice. It unsettled her and her scales crawled every time she approached it. A single, bloody handprint etched into the skull's forehead with the flawless illusion that the blood was fresh and yet to coagulate, but never dripped.

A demonic presence hovered behind her, ethereal breath caressing her neck, through any armor, whenever she touched the disturbingly cold stone. Wearing gloves, of any sort, did little to block the bone-deep chill. Something sinister was restrained within the door as penance for atrocities purposefully forgotten. Ariss was certain of it.

Upon reaching the first landing on the stairwell to the Sanctuary's sinister exit, the door she dreaded approaching, she stopped abruptly. One flight of stairs lay between her and the door, but something was amiss in the claustrophobic corridor. The normally well-lit stairs were dark. Only the faint illumination from the ventilation shaft above the door filtered down. A few moments of uncertainty followed until she realized she was beginning to fret over a brazier where the fire had managed to die. She sighed to herself and shook her head.

Ariss looked at the brazier more closely, curious as to why it had gone out in the first place. Granted, there was normally a steady breeze flowing down the stairs, but the fire had never even sputtered when she'd passed it before. In fact, she had never even seen the coals stoked. She had always assumed some form of magic kept them burning. Thin wisps of smoke curled up from coals that glistened as if water had been poured on them. Too late she realized that she was not alone on the landing.

An infiltrator. But how?

The unseen intruder spun her forcefully, shoving her up against the roughly excavated, unforgiving surface of the cave wall. The blow stunned her and her spine ached. A moment of surprising skill, on her assailant's part, and she was immobilized. Wrists held, high above her head, in a grip beyond her power to counter and a thigh pressed tight and up between her legs that left only her toes on solid ground. She was too surprised to make any noise. Razor-sharp teeth made themselves known at her throat; gripping at the precise location where her trachea was most vulnerable. The message was clear: make a noise and have it ripped free.

Jealousy, for the skill used to capture her, and rage, for allowing herself to be so easily captured, assaulted her pride. What she couldn't fathom was how they had passed the Demon door without alerting the Sanctuary. Fear began to grip her with frightful urgency. If she could be so easily subverted the rest of the Family could be in grave danger. What if there was more than one attacker?

A slick tongue dragged rudely across her throat made her shiver with disgust. Not only was this infiltrator good, but they were also perverted and...argonian? She couldn't see with her snout forced up, but she could surmise they were argonian. A khajit's mouth was not physically capable of grasping her throat as it was, nor a human. She could detect the perfume of a scent suppressant on them, which partially explained why she had not noticed this lowly lizard.

The teeth relented after a moment but the tongue continued to her jaw and cheek. Humid breath caressed her ear hole and the enigma spoke.

"The taste of fear and panic upon your scales is decadent." The voice dripped with unbridled ardor, articulate and husky. Very clearly owned by a male.

Memories long buried resurfaced. She closed her eyes tightly and buried them back in the deep hole they rightfully belonged in. That time was long ago and she was not the same, delicate argonian. Ariss struggled defiantly against his grasp. She thrashed and attempted to tuck her snout, to sink her teeth into any available patch of scale. She felt like a caged animal lashing out.

He countered her attempt with an ease that bordered on preternatural and left her hopeless. An unintentional, submissive whine escaped her lips and she felt like a conquered fool. Giving up was not something Ariss did lightly, but she saw no other recourse.

She resigned herself to the fate certain to befall her. There came a day when everyone met their superior. But, before she had her throat ripped out, she could scream an alarm.

Scaled lips pressed to her own, light and gentle. Ariss opened her eyes--more from surprise than consternation--and saw the very air before her eyes shimmer like spying a distant oasis. The invisibility spell that her assailant was under began to melt unevenly away. Coming into existence one speck at a time like raindrops down a pane of glass, starting with the tip of a verdant snout. Soon his smirk materialized into the realm of visibility. Then his bright green eyes. Familiar, mischievous green eyes.

Veezara.

"You bastard!" Ariss hissed with unrestrained vehemence. Anger boiled in her veins, a hot spring of rage. For a fleeting moment, she had legitimately felt she was going to die, that it was an inescapable truth.

Veezara saw Ariss' scarcely contained animosity, his eyes widened with guilt and he bowed his head remorsefully. His grip relaxed but did not completely evaporate, unsure if she would lash out. Part of him felt he deserved for her to release her ire on him. He risked a glance into her eyes and knew he had to attempt to placate her.

"My apologies if I startled you." Veezara knew it sounded asinine and cringed beneath her baleful glare. Under normal circumstances, he could stare into and get lost in her beautiful eyes for days, but now he could hardly meet them.

"I thought you were going to kill me, Veezara." She hissed, her voice on the precipice of losing control. His eyes widened in disbelief.

"I could never hurt you" he insisted quietly, sound traveled easily in a cave, "that was only a prank we used to partake in with other Shadowscale. Trying to sneak up on and surprise one another, until they submitted. A practice to keep our skills sharp." He truly felt like an ass. Ariss had never been a Shadowscale. Of course, she wouldn't have understood. Veezara sighed and regretted ever thinking playing a hatchling's prank was a good idea.

Veezara's hands left Ariss' wrists to cup her cheeks, thumb tracing the trio of horizontal scars that started just below her left eye. He could see her livid gaze beginning to evanesce. He leaned forward until the tip of his snout met hers and began to speak, voice plaintive.

"I have wronged you, Ariss, for that I apologize with my very soul. Know that I would never intentionally distress or harm you." He swallowed heavily, closed his eyes, and lowered his snout. "I deeply regret my actions and I beseech your forgiveness."

Ariss was quiescent. Veezara was normally well-spoken, but she had never heard him so formal. His hands had moved to her shoulders and his head angled so low she could see the back of it, straight horns flanking her snout. Her long silence brought his head and expectant, pleading eyes up.

"Promise me you'll never do that again."

"I promise, Ariss. Astrid may not believe in the Five Tenants, but I still abide by them. My word is as binding as any written, or blood promise."

"Good," Ariss replied simply. Her heart rate had returned to a normal rhythm and only a tingle of leftover emotion sat like a rock in her gut. The argonian crossed her arms, still leaning against the cold stone wall. She realized the easiest way to forget what had happened was to move on as quickly as possible. "I've been looking for you. I have a new contract that concerns you."

"Oh?" Veezara's brow quirked inquisitively, voice back to its usual self-confidence.

"Astrid feels I've been doing well and gave me a contract that sounds simple and entertaining."

"You have been handling quite a few of the Brotherhood's high-profile contracts. Not to mention a fair number of side projects."

"Yes, that is why Astrid gave me this particular contract. She told me to consider it a short vacation."

Veezara's expression shifted to suspicion.

"Vacation? Perhaps you are the true agent of Sithis; finding an assassination to be as pleasurable as time to oneself. Though I don't see how, exactly, this pertains to me."

Ariss grinned toothily. "It's a vacation because you'll be tagging along to assist me."

"Assist you?" Veezara's voice rose an octave. "Two agents of Sithis on one contract?" He paused, in thought. "I suppose it isn't unheard of just...irregular. What would my role in this production be?"

"We'll know after we meet the woman that performed the Black Sacrament. I wouldn't worry if I were you. I'm sure you'll find the time spent pursuing the contract, mmm, agreeable."

Veezara placed his hands on the stone wall to either side of Ariss' head and leaned forward sluggishly until he could feel the warmth radiating from her scales on his nose.

"I find any time I spend in your presence more than agreeable. Perhaps we have time to be agreeable near the frost spider's den?"

Ariss' breath caught in her throat at the mention of the spider. She turned her head to avoid coughing in Veezara's face. Luckily, it was too dark for the male to see her simultaneous blush.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she started, followed by one last cough. "It's best we make way as soon as possible. Grab anything you need and we'll be off in a few hours. We'll never be far from civilization, or exploring ancient ruins, so pack light. You'll just have to contain yourself."

"As you wish. I'll return in a few minutes." Veezara frowned impishly and licked her nose.

She watched him descend the stairs and disappear beneath the mountain. Eventually, she would tell him why they had to leave immediately and about the seemingly unassuming spider, but she hadn't conjured a valid excuse as to why, yet. She already had everything she intended on taking, anything else was purchasable for a reasonable sum. So, she waited patiently, far enough away from the Demon door to not be subject to its malicious suggestions or its preached words obsidian; foretelling horrendous events, the destruction of centuries worth of Sanctuary's, and perchance foretell the future.

No possessed door, no matter how ancient and world-weary, could have the prescience to know what was coming.

The Set-up

The city of Dawnstar.

If you could call it a city. It was more like a fishing hamlet by Ariss' reckoning. She and Veezara had taken the carriage from Falkreath instead of walking across the entire treacherous expanse of Skyrim. They had made exceptional time and arrived in two short days. Most of the journey was spent in companionable silence. There was little to discuss about the contract and Veezara seemed content to watch the land slip by to the creak and squeal of worn wooden wheels and annoyed chuffs from the single workhorse that pulled them.

What time she didn't spend sleeping, she joined Veezara in watching the landscape shift; forests giving way to endless grasslands, growing in towering mountains capped with pure white snow, haloed by thick, fluffy clouds that glowed with the changing colors of dusk and dawn. Ariss had never taken much time to appreciate the varied landscape that Skyrim offered to those that took but only a moment to admire it. Only once were they forced to stop, to easily fend off several piteous bandits, to the gracious thanks of the carriage driver. They left the bodies as a warning to any other bandits.

It was nearly night as they made their way along the bank of the small inlet that fed trade ships to the village's single, ramshackle pier. The last remnants of the sun giving way to a luminous half-moon. Constellations and colorful galaxies swirled at an incomprehensible distance overhead. Ariss had never devoted much time to stargazing and couldn't even comprehend what might be out there beyond her own little world.

The house the pair made their way to was the last in a row, to the left of the cove as you looked out to sea. A solitary ship waited on the placid, protected waters at the pier. Ariss wondered how the hamlet managed to survive in such an isolated place. Far away from the nearest great keep and in an area that, more often than not, was pestered by frequent snow flurries. She remembered that two mines operated nearby, which probably brought the majority of the hamlet's profits and taxes.

"We're here," Veezara rasped at her side, disturbing her thoughts.

Ariss looked at the single-story wooden home. It was unassuming and looked like most of Skyrim's modest dwellings. Nothing original or fancy, merely functional. It would keep you out of the elements and warm, but it wasn't an architectural statement. They could never hope to compare to the ancient carcasses of the silt striders that made up several of the cities in Morrowind that she had visited. Nothing remotely close in likeness to the great city of Vivec.

One could assume the owner scraped out their living just to afford it. A large wealth gap seemed to afflict Skyrim. A few flowers that struggled to survive in small pots on the porch were the only decoration. Together the pair of argonians climbed the three steps to the front door.

"Ready to hold up the reputation of the Dark Brotherhood, Sister?" Veezara's teeth twinkled in the gloom from distant firelight.

"Looking forward to it, Brother."

Veezara politely rapped the heavy wooden door three times.

Wood scraped against wood as the door opened; only enough to allow a sliver of light to illuminate the suspicious glare of a tired-looking Nord woman.

"Can I help you?"

Ariss assumed the woman already knew exactly who they were. One argonian was uncommon enough in this land, two--at night, in armor--were unheard of.

"The Night Mother has heard your prayer, Nif," Ariss hissed darkly. She enjoyed conjuring fear whenever she could.

The woman's expression changed instantly. Her thin, chapped lips, which spoke of long hours outdoors, broke into a broad grin and she quickly allowed the pair entry. The interior was less spartan than the exterior and rather cozy. An open fireplace supplied the majority of the light and the heat that warmed the dwelling. Several tallow lamps offered their own flickering shadows to the room's accoutrements. A single bed, desk, and table were the extent of what the space could accommodate without making the single room unnavigable. The woman didn't appear as poor as Ariss had first assumed she would. While the furniture was minimal it was of high-quality woods and craftsmanship.

"Welcome, um, please, have a seat." Nif motioned to the table. The woman directed the offer to Veezara, assuming him to be in charge. Typical human behavior. He quickly deferred to Ariss by stepping back.

"Thank you, but we won't be here long."

"Of course, of course. Is there anything I can get for you? If I had known beforehand that you were coming, I would have prepared some food. Your journey must have been extensive." While the woman was only trying to be hospitable, her insincere tone irked Ariss.

"We do not announce our presence ahead of time. Just as we do not leave evidence of it." Ariss lowered her voice to a menacing timbre and glared at the soft-eyed woman. "Tell us, why have you summoned the Dark Brotherhood."

Of course, she already knew but she wanted to gauge the woman's conviction.

"Because of my scandalous husband!" Nif's expression turned stern, eyes set on a point beyond Ariss' elongated head. "Spending money, my money, on harlots. I toil all hours of the day only to have him feed and buy these strumpets gifts! I do everything for him. I've invested years into this union and this is all I get in return." She huffed and crossed her arms in irritation. "He's probably getting drunk right now with some new prospect. Every time a ship comes in, he stays out 'til twilight."

Ariss nodded sagely. She was already formulating a plan. "When is the next ship scheduled to arrive?"

"Tomorrow afternoon, actually. Should stay docked for a couple of days. I want his death to look like a crime of opportunity, for I cannot be a suspect."

"Hmm, simple enough. What does your husband look like?"

"Like most other nord men: big head, strong jaw, blonde hair in an unkempt tangle, ragged beard, and a large build. Despite dressing like a beggar, he still manages to woo new women." Nif's voice was cold, lacking any of the nostalgia people often displayed when discussing their mates, despite their transgressions. Ariss nodded and constructed a mental image of the man.

"One more thing I--" she hesitated, glancing quickly at Veezara, "I have one special request."

"That would be?" Veezara offered with disinterest. Nif appeared afraid that her request might be denied but quickly steeled herself.

"Capture his soul in a soul gem." Both argonian's expressions registered mild surprise and they exchanged a quick look. "I already have the gem," she added quickly before they could protest. The words stumbled out of her mouth.

"I suppose you expect us to find a blade with the proper enchantment too?" Ariss' tone was dangerous. She had no intention of running additional errands for this contract; she already despised the extra nonsense most contracts came with. This contract was about getting away from the Sanctuary, relaxing, and making a few extra septims in the process.

"N-no, of course not!"

Nif stood quickly and went to her dresser, removing a neatly folded shirt, and returned with it to the table where she reverently placed it. Carefully, she unfolded the cloth, slowly revealing a wicked, s-curved blade. Only Ariss noticed Veezara's restrained and pleasured surprise as he stepped forward. He reached out and gently ran his fingertips down the hilt. The weapon did not appear enchanted, nor have the characteristic shimmer of many enchanted weapons and armors. However, the light appeared unable to escape the blade's edge, a truly obsidian edge. Shadows fell across it but a line of non-existence cut through them where they touched the sharpened metal.

"This will work beautifully, a fine specimen of smithing. Where did you get this?" Veezara asked, suddenly excited by the blade and curious as to how such a seemingly simple woman acquired something that screamed of Daedric origins. Perhaps even gifted from one of the Daedra themselves! Ariss found the higher pitch that had crept into Veezara's tone cute. A child with a brand-new toy.

"Is it necessary that you know?" Nif asked, voice stern. It was obvious she did not wish to say.

"No," he admitted with disappointment, "simply curious. May I?"

Veezara picked up the dagger after Nif's nod of consent. He turned the weapon over and examined the blade from multiple angles. No matter how he rotated it the sharpened edge refused to catch any firelight, not even a single glint. The ghastly visages, carved with infinite precision into the hilt, further cemented his convictions about the origins of the dagger. He was wholly impressed and wanted one for himself.

"I assume you want this returned." His gaze never left the dagger. The only sign of enchantment was a pair of ruddy, glowing demon eyes among the handle's varied ornamentation.

"Yes."

"Pity." Ariss heard the genuine disappointment in Veezara's voice. He slid the weapon carefully into his leather belt, unsure of exactly how sharp the blade was. "And the soul gem?"

Nif reached into the pocket on the side of her dress and presented him a large, dull, multifaceted gem. Both argonians were equally surprised to find that it was a black soul gem. First a Daedric blade and now a rare, highly expensive gem. This woman was not all she appeared to be.

Ariss stepped forward and took the gem, placing it in a pouch that hung from her belt.

"Now the remaining issue of payment. The standard fee is fifteen-hundred septims. The special request adds an extra five-hundred." Nif didn't have an obvious outward reaction. She hadn't even flinched. Ariss surmised she only appeared impoverished for the sake of maintaining an image. She began to question if this man was even her husband.

"I consent to the fee."

"Half upfront, half upon completion of the contract."

"As you wish."

Nif went to a plain wooden chest that sat at the foot of her bed. She opened it and began to rummage through its contents. Ariss could hear gold dropping into a leather coin purse. A minute later and the rather heavy amount of gold was tied to her leather belt.

"With payment completed these negotiations are concluded. We will return when our end of the contract has been upheld." She felt satisfied; payment secured and the contract terms settled.

"You know where to find me. I suspect you'll find my husband at the Windpeak Inn." Her voice held no perceptible amount of venom at the mention of her husband. Ariss still considered it unusual. Nif did not seem particularly upset about the fact that her husband would soon be dead, by her own request.

"Indeed. We'll find you when we need you, wherever you are." Ariss spoke methodically. Less a threat, more a promise. She suspected that this woman had her own powerful connections based on their conversation and her rare items. However, nobody toyed with the Dark Brotherhood and lived to tell of the consequences.

Veezara inclined his head politely to Nif, slightly bending at the waist with his hand delicately gripping the dagger's hilt. They exited Nif's home into the cool, salty air of a coastal night. What little foot traffic had existed before, was now extinct. Two guards patrolled in the distance, beneath harsh torchlight. The chill in the air only registered faintly with Ariss. Her shrouded armor doing a praiseworthy job of containing natural warmth and blocking cold.

"Perhaps we should familiarize ourselves with our target and then find somewhere to rest for the evening." Veezara's disembodied voice was a whisper on the wind meant only for Ariss. She nodded and started toward the Windpeak Inn.

Reconnaissance & Reconciliation

The heavy wooden door that blocked their entrance into the inn creaked on its hinges as it opened. Ariss cringed at the disgustingly loud racket. Her intention was always to draw as little attention to herself as possible. The more recognizable your face was the more difficult contracts became. Being picked out of a crowd by a target was never a good thing. Thankfully, nobody turned their attention to the pair as they walked in.

It turned out there was only one person in the room that could have even noticed.

Fjork was easy enough to find, sitting at the bar, drinking himself towards chemical-induced torpidity. Tankard held firmly in hand. Typical Nord. No innkeeper appeared to be around, likely asleep at the late hour.

"Sister, why don't you retire to a room. I'll sit with this Nord and interrogate him. Gently, of course," he added. "It wouldn't do to have him see you before the new ship arrives. Spoiling your debut with a pre-showing would be tragic." He recognized her expression of protestation and grinned. "Besides, you're on vacation."

"You're right, of course." She wasn't pleased by that fact.

Veezara moved closer until the tip of his tail alighted along Ariss'. A move that even the most perceptive wouldn't have noticed. "Perhaps you could warm this evening's nest while Veezara works for you." The corner of his lips rose minutely.

Ariss nodded slightly and slunk into the nearest open room. Moving deliberately to avoid catching the nord's attention, even if he was far away. It was safe to assume that he was already quite drunk, but there was little point in testing that assumption. She closed the sturdy wooden door as she entered the inn room.

The room was a small, cozy space with a wooden chest that sat at the head of the bed while a small dresser and wardrobe dominated the wall adjacent. While the bed looked inviting, it could have stood to be slightly larger to accommodate two people. Oh well, an innocent excuse to be closer to Veezara.

Ariss moved the room's lone chair next to the door, cracked it open a hair, and closed her eyes. She focused all her awareness into her hearing to eavesdrop on any voices in the open hall.

Even though Dawnstar was to the far north the Windpeak Inn was big. Six thick tree trunk pillars formed the foundation for the high vaulted ceiling and in the center of the open space sat a massive hearth; large enough to seat at least fifteen, he guessed. Closed doors along both walls led to rooms and tables with bench seats filled in the gaps. A variety of furs covered the stone floor and decorated the walls. Cozy.

Veezara helped himself to the empty barstool adjacent to the targeted Nord; legs squeaked faintly across the worn wooden floor. Fjork looked to his new company with mild interest. Veezara noted that his expression held no negative perceptions toward him. The way his eyes swam hinted at his level of intoxication. His current tankard of ale, judging by the bittersweet scent of hops on his breath, was not his first, second, or even third. The renowned Nordic attribute for the ability to quaff alcohol was strong. Veezara leaned his elbows on the bar and looked around expectantly. Apparently, the bar was self-serve this late in the evening.

When the Nord wasn't forthcoming with conversation Veezara decided to start it. "No service this late?" He asked, voice slightly louder than what was polite.

"Aye, keep it down." Fjork's accent was nearly impossible to understand with alcohol impeding his ability to speak beyond what was stereotypically expected. "I can getcha something if'n ya like. The owner - e'trusts me. Jus' leave a coupla gold behind the counter."

Veezara fetched a coin from his coin purse, careful not to jostle it to avoid giving away how full it was, and dropped it behind the bar onto the counter.

"I'll take whatever yer havin'."

He found that drinking the same drink and speaking with similar mannerisms put people at ease. They felt you were just like them, making them more susceptible to questions and more amicable.

"Thank ye." He said with little inflection and a subtle slur when Fjork failed at setting a tankard of ale carefully before him. Drink sloshed over the edge and onto the, previously, clean bar. He had to give credit to the Nord where it was due, having perfectly dispensed the beverage; just the right amount of head releasing the pleasing perfume of fermentation.

Fjork walked gracelessly back around the bar and sat heavily on his stool. The wood groaned in protest under his healthy weight. He was not the ideal of fitness by any stretch of the imagination. Veezara surmised his conquests in adultery were due to reasons other than physical attraction, perhaps he was a smooth talker when not inebriated.

"Never seen you around here before, stranger. What brings you to Dawnstar?"

Veezara suppressed his amusement at the way Fjork's eyelids fluttered from half-open to nearly closed; his head swaying as if he was standing on ship deck in high seas.

"One of my many travel destinations. I hear this town has good trade opportunities with the ships that moor."

"Aye, that they do!"

Fjork's grin was comically large and made his face look half numb. A likeness to a victim of an unfortunate stroke. His nearly incomprehensible speech added to the illusion of medical disability.

"Ship comin' in tomorrow, matter-a-fact, from Morrowind they say. Of all places." He didn't seem pleased by the idea; however, it would make it easier for Ariss to explain her arrival from the ship. Morrowind is a land where argonians are far more common. "Probably won't have nothin' exciting though. Not for you, at least."

This piqued Veezara's interest.

"Really, why do you say that?" He drawled over the rim of his tankard before taking a long drink. It was a common brew, nothing special, but quite drinkable. The gold he had left had been a little too generous. Still, he couldn't complain too strongly, it was refreshing after the monotonous journey. He would have to remember to bring some Alto wine to Ariss.

Fjork shrugged. "Just trade goods, you know? Probably no trinkets or things of much value to a traveling salesman such as yourself."

Veezara nodded thoughtfully and the Nord contemplated his murky reflection in his drink. He decided he wasn't going to get much more out of Fjork before he passed out and jumped to the important matter. While he completed contracts regardless of the target's guilt or innocence it always made it slightly easier to sink the blade into their heart when they were guilty.

"Any prospects of the fairer kind?" Veezara asked noncommittally. Fjork lifted his gaze from his drink and rolled it to the green-scaled reptile, suddenly suspicious.

"What do you mean?"

"You know, do these ships ever have any females looking for company?" He whispered, leaning closer to the Nord as if asking about something secret. Fjork scowled and looked over his shoulder. There was nobody else in the main hall.

"You got a funny way of putting things, argonian."

Time to defuse the nord's annoyance. His sensitivity to the topic almost proved his guilt in Veezara's eyes.

"I don't mean to spend any gold if that's what you're thinking. I'm only asking from previous experiences. Being stuck on a ship with the same few faces for such a long a journey as coming from Morrowind by water is becomes tiresome. I'm sure some fine women, just looking for a different conversation, have come through."

Fjork had started nodding near the end, seemingly placated by Veezara's chosen wording. The argonian took another long swig and wiped his lips with the back of his hand.

"I've met some interesting lasses. You're right about the long trips, ya know. A couple of them have even been very pleasant company." Fjork slurred with a knowing grin. "I'm hoping there'll be one to talk to tomorrow."

Veezara nodded and finished the rest of his ale in three long, noisy gulps. He set the tankard down and sighed, content in more ways than one.

"Perhaps I'll postpone leaving when I'd intended and stick around to see for myself."

"You can have my leftovers!" Fjork laughed, slapping Veezara's back roughly with one large, heavy hand. The force was enough to make his back sting; perhaps even leaving a handprint-shaped indentation.

"You've got yourself a deal, uh--"

"Fork, Fjork Syyorn." The Nord supplied belatedly once he realized, with the depressed social grace of a drunk, the argonian was holding out his hand.

"Veezara."

He replied, unafraid of using his real name, as the Nord shook his hand clumsily. All his victims learned it eventually. When and how was of little consequence. Fjork didn't seem at all repulsed at touching his scaled skin. Unfortunately, the human's skin was clammy and faintly sticky. He could never understand his fellow argonians that became enamored with the soft-skinned types.

He put his tankard on the counter and left a dozen gold coins for the room and tip somewhere discreet. Fjork might have questionable morals, but Veezara did not feel he had to worry about his money disappearing. He stood and offered a slight bow to the Nord that went unnoticed. Fjork's unawareness of his surroundings made getting into a room, when he was supposedly alone, easier to get away with. He tapped the door discretely in a predetermined pattern and fumbled in his pocket for a non-existent key as cover. When Ariss unlatched the door, he made a show of finding the key and unlocking the door.

He glanced back only to find the Nord passed out at the bar.

Ariss had already moved aside and out of sight as Veezara cracked the door only wide enough to slink in. The room was nearly dark, barely illuminated by a half dozen sporadically placed candles. Belatedly, he remembered he was going to bring back a bottle of Alto wine. Once he closed and secured the solid door, he turned to Ariss, about to apologize for forgetting to bring her some wine.

The muscles in his jaw went numb, rendering them unable to counteract the weight of bone, teeth, and scale. Ariss smiled abashedly at Veezara's slack-jawed examination and looked down at his boots, unable to maintain eye contact. The flickering candlelight glittered like twinkling stars on Ariss' exposed, lustrous, and supple scales.

He had never seen her in such flattering light; the soft glow haloing her invited, even dared, him to caress her. The cold, blue smoke of her eyes was illuminated with internal, ultramarine fire. In all his decades of travel, across a dozen lands, he had never seen a more ravishing sight.

Not even the old royalty of Black Marsh came close.

"Veezara?"

Ariss' tone was curious and light, lacking the confidence he had come to know and expect, replaced with transitory embarrassment. Gone was the gruffness she employed for the outside world. Her true voice, sonorous and luxurious, wrapped around him in a loving embrace. He would never tire of hearing her utter his name.

While he didn't care much for the soft-skinned, he couldn't deny their ability to spin fine clothing to distract his more salacious male instincts. The ensemble Ariss wore was simple, but to say that decreased its influence would be a grave mistake. A crimson black-trimmed bodice, front laces slightly loose, that pushed her breasts up into an alluring display of cleavage that the light cascaded from like raindrops off a resplendent Hist tree. Below that, clinging desperately to scales just below her hips, was what could scarcely be considered underwear of the same color, made of carefully braided silk. It both hid and hinted at the essence of her femininity.

The colors complemented her pine green scales and red facial markings to absolute perfection. The simplicity of the garments highlighted what mattered most: her natural-born beauty; bathed in plush candlelight, her form rivaled any Goddess'. Not the body of a sedentary housewife, but one of a bathed-in-blood killer. Feminine and dangerously alluring, yet, powerful and exceptionally fierce. He drank all of her in once more, as patiently as his elevated heart rate would allow.

"Veezara?"

She spoke his name in a pleading, submissive, mellifluous tone and turned slightly. Imploring him to say something, anything. He heard the vulnerability in the upper echelons of her elegant voice, yearning for approval not often sought. Licking his lips, he idly wondered how long he had been rooted in place, staring at her beauty.

He floated across the space that separated them and took Ariss up into his strong, greedy arms, as a Knight returning, victorious, to his long-neglected love would; hands slipped along her bare hips, fingers interlocked in the small of her back. She willingly let him pull her against his armored body with a content murmur, their cheeks touched as he nosed her naked shoulder.

Desire flowed through his veins unabated and he longed to revel in the delight of scale against scale. However, if there was one important lesson he'd learned throughout his life, it was patience. Contractual business had to come first, no matter how much he wanted to give himself to the goddess begging for him.

"I assume you were listening to the conversation between myself and Fjork."

Veezara's voice was low, nearly a growl. A deep inhalation of Ariss' warm, inviting scent had nearly been his undoing. Nipping her neck had been his only recourse for salvation.

"Of course."

Ariss gasped, hand stroking the male argonian's head, claws tracing delicately along one of his swept-back horns. An involuntary shiver resulted, it tingled under her touch. She smiled when she felt his body's response. Ego told her to find pleasure in her ability to enact such control of Veezara's body; to know how strongly he desired her and the power she felt it gave her. Much of her life had been spent out of control and with little companionship. She allowed herself to enjoy the moment without further introspection.

"And? Your plan?" He breathed into her ear, claws rasping against her scales.

Pride swelled in her at his unexpected confidence in her; how he assumed she already had a plan. His confidence was not misplaced. She yearned to hear him say it again.

"My plan? What makes you presume I have one." She said with feigned suspicion.

Veezara's laugh was a series of staccato grunts. Ariss gasped when his teeth pricked her soft, vulnerable throat. His voice vibrated into her through his snout.

"My dear, you're far too cunning to not already have the nord's demise planned in exacting detail. That's why you excite me. I can never be too sure of what you're going to do next, but you are already certain. Not the spontaneous, but the coldly calculated. You're careful. Powerful. Deadly. Beautiful."

Each word was punctuated with a nip at Ariss' throat or collar bone. The last word sealed with a kiss. His praise filled her with intense warmth, leaving her breathless against Veezara's lips. She wondered if she had ever really been in control of him, if only for a moment.

"I do have a plan," Ariss muttered when their lips parted. She was about to begin explaining it when Veezara interrupted with a sharp grunt. She met his piercing green gaze and found it overflowing with lust. For her.

She beamed and sashayed to the room's small bed, making a seductive display of crawling onto it and rolling onto her back, arms folded behind her head, one knee in the air, tail rising and falling languidly.

Despite her performance, Veezara was patiently removing his leather armor, effortlessly sliding it from his muscular body. His desire was restrained and still quite _pronounced,_but his seemingly infinite stoicism annoyed her. She wanted him and had made it abundantly clear, so there seemed little reason to prolong the inevitable.

Veezara was most certainly the one controlling the tempo of their dance.

"You were about to tell me something before I rudely interrupted?"

Ariss resisted rolling her eyes. Always the gentleman. When he felt like being annoying.

"I'll wait outside of town until dusk, to make sure nobody sees me. After the new ship has arrived, I'll come to the inn. Then I'll sit down with Fjork and get him drinking which, from the sound of things, shouldn't prove difficult. He didn't seem to dislike you, so I assume he won't turn me down solely based on my scales."

"Any male that would turn you down deserves Oblivion."

Ariss blushed and watched toned muscle shift beneath well-groomed scales as Veezara finished folding his jacket. He placed it neatly on the room's dresser and began working at his belt. Her tail twitched in frustration, but her lust only burned hotter. Damn him!

"I'll spike his drink with one of Babette's potions. One that will make him even more . . . amicable, easier to persuade to join me for some private conversation."

Veezara chuckled, then found himself struggling with his leather pants, which had bunched up and caught at his ankles. It amused Ariss to watch him nearly topple over and have to use the bedpost to prevent an embarrassing fall. Despite the save, his scales had flushed with mild shame at his lapse in balance. He recovered and folded the pants as neatly as the jacket.

"Then I'll bring him to this room, to this very bed, where I'll have him partake of my second concoction."

Veezara had finished riding himself of anything he wasn't hatched with as Ariss talked. She vocalized her appreciation of the way the candlelight danced over his well-formed body. Emerald scales bathed in shifting ochre glow. The only imperfections a half dozen scars spread about, three of which were pink vertical slashes down the side of his snout. They reminded her of the trio of fleshy scars that cut horizontally over her left eye. I could never be satisfied with an unscarred man, she thought.

Ariss willed him to come to her, crawl over her, and join with her, but she didn't beckon. He finally obliged with a playful, predatory grin that set her lower half aflame. She pulled her knees up until her heels were almost touching her butt as if trying to defend herself, as he crawled on hands and knees toward her. Veezara knelt with her bunched-up legs between his, hugged them to his chest, and stroked her thighs.

"What happens next?" He inquired, voice gravid with lust, and kissed one of her knees. Ariss struggled to remember.

"I keep him distracted until the potion takes hold, leaving his body as malleable as wet clay waiting to be crafted."

As she'd spoken, Veezara's index fingers had hooked under the strings of the underwear at her hips, slowly peeled them up her thighs, the fabric clinging momentarily to slick flesh, and off her legs. Lifting her feet to finish the job had given him an unobstructed view of glistening skin and scale that had caused his heart to flutter. He steeled himself, mentally begging the Night Mother for patience as he folded the damp fabric as carefully as he had his own armor.

His scales whispered effortlessly against those of Ariss' inner thighs as he urged them apart. Now he took the opportunity to drink her in, fingers squeezing and stroking up her thighs. He teased her playfully with a thumb. She called him to her with heavily lidded eyes. He low crawled over her. Her arms came up to wrap around his neck, pulling him down.

"How do you intend on distracting him?"

Ariss grinned impishly until her lips closed softly with Veezara's. She gasped into his opening maw as the rest of his body sank with excruciating languor, moaning softly when his pelvis ground against hers; his rigid desire for her becoming slick between her yielding flesh and his hard abs. Veezara hissed and buried his snout into the soft, moss-green scales of her throat. Ariss felt it was time she attempted to wrest control from the male.

"That, my dearest Veezara, is one of those details you'll have to wait for until it reveals itself."

He nipped her throat and rocked his hips. "I thought this was a partnership."

"If you want to call it that. Astrid left me in charge. I brought you along as an adviser."

Veezara huffed with feigned annoyance. He adjusted his hips, back and then down. Soon he was enveloped in lubricious warmth, deeper and deeper until his balls pressed against Ariss' tail. Her breath caught in her throat and her arms tightened around his neck like an ophidian's constricting coils.

"As your advisor, I find it pertinent that you refrain from keeping secrets. If only for your own safety, dearest Ariss."

She would have laughed at his unconvincing attempt at an aristocratic tone if he hadn't dropped all of his weight onto her chest. The discomfort of having her breasts squished was overpowered by the ecstasy of his claws raking down her sensitive flanks. He was quickly catching on to her erogenous weak points.

"Veezara," Ariss stuttered, breathless, "try not to ruin my clothing if you ever want to see me wearing it again."

He chuffed and his weight lifted from her chest as he pushed himself aloft with one arm. His free hand began trying to untie the front of her bodice.

"The knot at the bottom," Ariss instructed, once she realized what he was after and doing it all wrong. "A man that knows a hundred ways to kill, yet he struggles with women's clothing," she said, bemused.

Veezara responded with a playful nip. It took a few moments of mirthful smiles and frustrated grunts before the garment was loose and she was free of it. He reared up, beheld her nude resplendence, and then began to fold the item, just as he had the others. She snatched it from his hands and tossed it to the floor. A sense of triumph filled her at creating the only disorganization in the room.

Veezara's miffed expression made her simper as she wrapped her legs around his hips, driving him back and deep into where he belonged. His eyes closed as he inhaled sharply, arms quaking with pleasure.

She couldn't resist enjoying his palpable ardor. The way her actions could bring ecstasy just as much as they could bring agony. Instead of the usual morbidity that surrounded her, this felt pure and innocent by comparison. Veezara growled, then walked his hands up until they were snug against Ariss' ribs and beneath her shoulders. He rocked and ground his hips until she was panting and writhing beneath him. She gripped his biceps roughly and pushed eagerly back against his assault.

"Going to tell me your little secret yet?" Veezara growled out between ragged breaths, hips moving with purpose.

Ariss' face was flush from the activity. The crimson streaks--that started low on either side of her neck, curled back, and then returned to slash across her eyes to meet in between--began to intensify from the vigorous activity.

"There is nothing to tell," she moaned, "your role will reveal itself at the perfect time." The sibilance normally present in her voice was so exaggerated it made Veezara smile. He dropped onto his forearms and her body curled beneath his to accommodate the position, relinquishing itself completely to his will.

"You revel in being difficult and controlling. Don't you?"

The question was rhetorical and he cut off any possible retort from Ariss with his lips, rough against the softness of hers. She made no attempt to deny his statement and instead shifted her grip to his shoulders and rotated her snout, tongue reaching across the divide to explore her lover's. He reciprocated with unrestrained enthusiasm, tail coiling around hers to the extent that it was able. Being as close as possible in the physical realm was what he craved. Pleasing this female, the strongest-willed and capable he'd ever known, to the best of his ability, was his only concern.

He felt the sting of her claws digging into his shoulders. The thick scales prevented penetration into his flesh, but the pain sent him headlong into a euphoric state, his thrusts urgent and erratic. He dropped his head and sets his jaws to Ariss' throat. With eyes screwed shut, a deep growl of ownership reverberated through his body as he claimed her. Her back arched and she forcefully squeezed her legs around him as thick warmth spread deep inside her and lightning rippled through her nerves with cleansing fire. Her muscles contracted in spasmodic waves that sent pleasant tingles crawling beneath her scales.

Veezara's humid breath caressed her in fitful gasps as he sated his lust deep within her. She had never felt so connected to any of the previous males she'd had. Only using her body as an information-gathering tool. A pleasurable tool, but a tool nevertheless. A means to an end. Veezara left her feeling new, untouched, and raw emotions. She only hoped he felt the same; from the lopsided smile that stretched his features, to the way he gently bucked into her to satisfy his primal urges, she didn't doubt it. Once the moment had passed, he offered her snout a loving lick.

When he left her, he lifted his body, gently repositioned her legs, and lay against her side. She felt strangely content. Not even the faint wetness that leaked over the sides of her tail perturbed her. There was no urge to get up and vacate the area like every time before or wait for the male to sleep so she could sneak away, steal what she came for, or even cut their existence short. Veezara nestled alongside Ariss' prostrate form, nuzzling up against her snout until their lips touched and molded together.

In her opinion, the vacation couldn't be going any better.

Ariss wrapped her arms around Veezara's muscular back as he nestled his head in her bosom, chest rumbling his contentment. She smiled and gave the top of his pebbled head a lick.

"I'm going to sneak out of town before dawn." Her grin broadened at his piteous whine. "We won't be apart for long, don't be such a hatchling," she chided him while stroking his head.

He chuckled and held her tighter.

"Just try not to wake me up when you leave. I want to keep dreaming that you're still with me."

Ariss grinned, lovingly rubbing Veezara's snout. "How could I be so blessed by Sithis?" She wondered softly, closing her eyes.

"I often wonder the same, dearest Ariss."

Contractual Obligations

Ariss woke to the sound of deep, slow breaths warming her breast. It took her a moment of listening to her senses to remember where she was. She smiled and stroked Veezara's strong scales. Another few minutes to bask in this won't hurt.

Eventually, she shifted and clumsily got out from under the larger male. Amazed when he didn't wake up, she wondered how he had survived this long as an assassin. After sliding the heavy fur blanket up to his shoulders, she kissed the side of his snout.

The temperature of their room sent an involuntary shiver up her spine. She made use of the pitcher of water and basin on the dresser to soak a cloth. The cold, wet cloth made her cringe as she rubbed it between her legs. With morning ablutions finished, she donned her leather armor. She was glad she'd had the forethought to bring a heavy cloak as she whirled it over her shoulders. This far north could get very cold and she'd be spending all day hiding outside of town. Fully dressed, she slipped the two potion vials into a pouch on her belt and nestled her dagger next to it.

Thankfully, the door to their room was silent as she opened it and slipped out. She used her infinitely handy skeleton key to lock the door behind her. It wouldn't do to have Veezara get ambushed in such a deep sleep. She smiled, thinking of Veezara and the previous night's debauchery.

The main hall was dead silent, even the large hearth was dead. She crept deeper into the inn and sniffed the air as she passed several doors. Familiar scents guided her to a door near the bar--locked. Ariss rolled her eyes and opened the simple lock with her skeleton key. Beyond the door was a surprisingly well-stocked larder. She chose to be frugal and only took two rolls and two large, dried sausages. After wrapping the ill-gotten goods in cloth, she stuffed them into her small knapsack and slung the load over her shoulder.

Sneaking out of the inn was as trivial as sneaking around inside of it. The only thing she couldn't prevent was the obnoxiously loud entry door. The bracing morning air flooded her lungs and caused her tail to quiver beneath her cloak. Spending all day outside was going to be annoying.

Wooden planks creaked softly beneath her toes before giving way to packed snow. Three houses passed quickly and she turned to start hiking up the small mountain that loomed over the town. To her left, rays of crepuscular light shot out from the horizon, lighting fat, lazy clouds in the distance from below. Ahead and above her loomed a mighty stone tower topped with a decaying battlement. Her cursory research of Dawnstar back in the Sanctuary told her it was called Nightcaller Temple.

Nightcaller Temple was a very old military fort that had been abandoned and later occupied by worshippers of the Daedric prince Vaermina the Dreamweaver. Prince Vaermina purveyor of nightmares, stolen memories, dreams, and psychological torment. The text had mentioned that Orcs had invaded the temple intent on slaughtering the devotees of Vaermina and taking the structure for themselves, but nobody had ever left or entered ever since. Ariss doubted that nobody had ever entered the temple since. Were she not preoccupied, she might even have entered and looked for loot. Worshippers of Daedra always had interesting things to steal.

The trip to her chosen stakeout location was relatively short. A small patch of pines that stood watch over the town, their boughs touching the ground; perfect for hiding beneath, from sight and the wind's chill. Before settling in for a long day of meditation, she relieved herself away from her hideout. Beware the yellow snow, she thought with a smirk.

Ariss crawled beneath one pine and settled into a spot where she could observe the town. Sitting cross-legged on her heavy cloak, she pulled her bundle of pilfered provisions from her knapsack and tore into a roll and sausage. The bread was still soft inside and the sausage delightfully salty. She kept her cloak closed between bites and munched loudly. Crumbs gathered on her cloak that weren't brushed away until she had finished.

She sighed and stared out at the seemingly endless ocean. Dawnstar started to wake from its slumber beneath her lookout. She very much wished she was still in bed, cuddled up to her deadly Shadowscale. Well aware that allowing her thoughts to drift to Veezara would make the day go by excruciatingly slowly, she focused on watching the comings and goings of the peasant folk. Even if none of them were of interest, a missed detail, or the proverbial sword in Dwemer gears, might reveal itself.

Around midday, during a break from meditation, Ariss spotted Veezara strolling around the bay. He seemed to walk aimlessly as he wandered, but she knew better. Far in the distance, she spotted a large sail. It was the ship expected to moor in Dawnstar. While it was impossible to truly judge, she guessed that it would still be a couple of hours before the ship arrived, but it really depended on how the wind favored them.

Unbidden, the memory of something Astrid had mentioned in passing came to her. Wasn't there a Sanctuary near Dawnstar? Although, the woman had mentioned that it hadn't been in use for at least a century. Ariss was certain that Astrid had mentioned no specifics about the Sanctuary's location. Perhaps it was something Veezara knew more about? She wondered if anybody in Dawnstar even knew of it. Her focus shifted to the town spread out below her perch.

When she looked down toward Dawnstar her gaze happened to fall on the verdant, easily recognizable scales that she'd been beneath only hours earlier. He was facing her direction, scanning the mountain. Ariss had never told him where she had planned on hiding. Though far away, she could tell which direction his snout was facing. As his head turned, it suddenly stopped in her exact direction. She froze and wondered if he had guessed her hiding place. Is it one he would have chosen for himself? The moment passed and the distant argonian walked away.

The day dragged on and the ship grew as it neared shore. A figure on the small dock gazed out over the water and waved to the ship. Soon she'd make her way back to Dawnstar.

Damnit! Why did I just now think of this?

What if Fjork decided to watch the ship come into berth? How long would he watch? She could pretend she had been below deck, but what if he watched for a long time? It would be harder to pretend that she had been on the ship. Annoyed she slammed a fist into the ground. Shit!

Ariss took a deep breath, held it for five seconds, and took five seconds to exhale. She had an adjustment to her plan ready before her next breath. By the time the first rope was thrown to the dock, she'd be waiting in the shadows nearby. If she didn't see Fjork anywhere nearby, she'd quickly stroll up to the dock and mill around for a bit; if he was watching, she'd wait until he stopped or turned his back and approach the dock, doing her best to look like she had left it.

She nodded to herself and retrieved the last of her stolen food. As she waited until it was time, she ate with the wind whispering through the pine needles around her.

Ariss meandered around the dock as deckhands started unloading the recently arrived boat. Fjork was nowhere to be seen. Her worries had been for naught, but better to be prepared for any circumstance than to leave everything up to chance. She talked to no one as she watched. Even still, being an argonian in Skyrim did make it difficult to blend in.

When it seemed appropriate, with the sun beginning to fall beyond the distant horizon, she left the dock and walked straight to the now-familiar Windpeak Inn. The entrance squeaked, as expected, and she closed it roughly behind her. The inn was livelier than the evening before and a few patrons glanced at her noisome interest, only showing interest because of her scales.

She strode confidently up to the bar, long cloak billowing behind her, and got the innkeeper's attention with a wave. The tall, older gentleman sported a long white beard and regarded her indifferently.

"I'd like a room for the night," Ariss asked with as friendly a smile as she knew how to show. The innkeeper stared at her for a moment before speaking.

"Aye. Fifteen septims. Comes with tonight's supper: mudcrab stewed in vegetables and a sweetroll for dessert."

"Tch. It'd be ten if I was a nord."

The old man's eyes narrowed slightly, but he said nothing. Ariss decided an argument with an old asshole wasn't worth risking her plan.

"Fine, fifteen for the room, dinner, and an ale."

She didn't take her eyes off the old man as she rummaged in a pouch on her belt. Fifteen septims in a neat stack appeared on the bar when she moved her hand. The innkeeper looked down at the payment, then back up at the argonian.

"Aye and an ale. Last room on the right."

"Oh, I almost forgot. How much for a bottle of Alto and two cups?"

"Ten septims." He bent down and pulled a bottle from under the counter, along with the two cups. When he stood the coins were stacked as neatly as the previous. And more than ten.

"Thank you, sir." She dipped her snout. To her surprise, the stubborn old man's façade finally cracked and he smiled.

Ariss went to her assigned room, door already open, and shut it behind her. She set the wine and cups on the small dresser. As she stripped off her cloak, she heard the main door squeaking through the wall. That had to have woken Veezara this morning, she thought. A moment later a familiar pattern scratched out against the wooden door to her room. She opened the door wide, felt a breeze of movement, and shut it quickly. When she turned, Veezara was there, smiling at her.

"I was just thinking about you," she laughed.

"And, by your command, I appeared." Veezara grinned and offered a small bow.

Ariss rolled her eyes and continued where she left off as the male sat in the chair she'd sat in the night before. She stripped off her leather armor and changed into a more comfortable ensemble: a white blouse under the same bodice she wore the night before and a plain, light brown, calf-length skirt. As she changed, she felt Veezara's eyes devouring her curves from where he sat and reveled in the attention--even going so far as to tease the poor man. She left the top three buttons of her blouse loose and tightened the laces of her bodice to accentuate her modest bust.

"Do you think this will be distracting enough for the target?" She asked as she curled the collar of her blouse out and exposed a nearly uncouth amount of cleavage.

Veezara smirked, stood, and closed the small gap between them. He slid the side of his snout along her jaw, over her cheek, and down her neck until he nosed against pliable, smooth scales.

"I'm certainly distracted."

Ariss nipped the top of his head when she felt him drag his tongue across the top of her breasts and shoved him back.

"I wasn't asking about you!"

Veezara shrugged. "Damn shame. I suppose even an imbecilic nord will be distracted. I'd say it's impossible not to be. With the way the white perfectly frames your breasts..."

Ariss felt her face warm and distracted herself by smoothing her skirt.

"Fjork wasn't here yet when I came in here," she said, trying to steer the conversation away from herself.

"Then my timing was perfect. In more ways than one," Veezara said with an obvious leer. "He was who I snuck in behind."

"I'll never understand how you can sneak around unseen in the light."

"It's a simple matter, really, when one has mastered the art of camouflage. Scale becomes stone, becomes shadow. And a very high skill level, dearest Sister."

"Uh-huh. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a date this evening," Ariss began and cast a lascivious smile at the Shadowscale, trying to make him feel jealous. "When I scratch at the door, make yourself unseen, but keep to that chair in the corner. You have that Daedric dagger and soul gem?"

Veezara nodded and patted a pouch on his belt. "Now that I know how you intend to get the nord into your room, how will I know when you're ready for me to strike?"

"Your main role will be to hand me the soul gem and dagger when I ask for them. Beyond that, you'll assist me in fulfilling the detail of making his death appear to be a crime of opportunity." While talking, she'd slipped the two prepared potions into her blouse. Coercion on the left, paralyzation on the right. She decided that if she ever named her breasts, those would be their names.

The corners of Veezara's lips curved down. "I'd prefer not to watch you fuck this nord."

"No? Your jealousy is endearing, but you hide it poorly. Besides, I've no need to go that far." He seemed placated by the assurance, so she continued. "I'll signal you when I'm ready for you."

Ariss stepped up to the taller argonian and kissed him. She lingered, pressed up against him, and let him hold her for a few moments. When she pulled back his claws trailed down her arms as she turned away and left the room. He sighed and sat in the chair in the corner of the room; it was going to be impossible to stop imaging what she might have planned--for the nord and himself.

Ariss quickly scanned the main hall as the door closed behind her and came to two conclusions: there were more bodies than the previous night, and Fjork wasn't alone this time. The nord was sitting at one of the tables across from another nord she was pretty sure was a deckhand on the ship. Her simple excuse of being a traveler from the ship might no longer be useable.

She made her way deeper into the room, making sure to pass through Fjork's field of view. When the nord looked at her she turned her head and gave him a friendly smile. His eyes darted back to the bowl and plate before him. The innkeeper watched her approach, face placid.

"Evening," he said.

"Good evening, sir." Ariss gave the old man a disarming smile, put her elbows on the bar, and leaned forward. To his credit, the innkeeper's face remained expressionless and she almost hadn't caught his quick downward glance. "May I have some of that delicious stew I could smell from my room?"

"Aye." The old man turned to the large cauldron on the table behind him and ladled the stew into a large wooden bowl. Steam floated in small wisps from the bowl as he placed it in front of her and stuck a wooden spoon into the dark brown broth. Small bits of mudcrab meat floated amongst a bouquet of green and red vegetables. The smell was delightful. Ariss' mouth started to water.

"And that beer you promised me?" She said sweetly.

The innkeeper's eyes narrowed slightly. He hadn't forgotten, but he had hoped she would have. She watched him open the tap on the keg and hold the mug perfectly vertical. A large head of light brown foam quickly appeared. Foam dribbled down the side of the mug as he set it on the bar. _You think you're so subtle,_she thought.

Off to her left, at the end of the bar, just within reach was a tray with a small stack of sweetrolls. The evening's dessert appeared to be self-serve. If she didn't want to make a second trip, she'd need a place to set her roll. With a coy look at the innkeeper, Ariss plucked a sweetroll from the top of the stack and set it in the center of her bosom, which, while not large, was pushed up enough to offer a useable surface--the sticky glaze helped keep the pastry from sliding. She picked up her bowl and mug.

"Even as a hatchling slave I could pour a better mug of ale than this," she said with a supercilious smirk. His stupefied look kept the grin on her face as she turned away. And there it remained as she approached Fjork's table.

When she was near the table, Fjork and his companion turned their heads. Both their gazes quickly fell to the dessert. Ariss slid onto the bench next to Fjork and set down her bowl and mug.

"I wasn't going to make it to my room before the glaze melted. You gentleman don't mind if I join you, do you?" Who knew that a sweetroll perched on top of one's breasts could be such a good icebreaker?

The stranger looked around the room, clearly noticing the unoccupied tables she could have sat at, hinting that he did mind. The men shared a look that said Who in the Nine Divines is this argonian?

"Of course not, miss," Fjork said, trying very hard not to look at the sweetroll.

"Thank you," Ariss said, smiling at the nord. Pretending to just notice the looks they gave her, she picked up the sweetroll and giggled. "The things a lady must do when she runs out of hands."

Ariss pulled a kerchief from the pocket on her skirt and made a poor attempt at wiping her scales clean. She folded the cloth in half neatly, placed it on the table, and set the sweetroll on it. The two nords sat in awkward silence until she lifted her mug and noisily chugged half of it. She wiped her damp lips on the sleeve of her blouse. Due to her theatrics, Fjork's companion looked agitated.

"I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" The juxtaposition of her polite speech and her bawdry demeanor appeared to intrigue Fjork, but his companion's frown deepened.

"No, I just finished. Find me at the dock after sunrise. We can finish our business then," the nord said to Fjork. Without a second glance, he stood and left the inn.

"I'm sorry to have caused a scene, but he could have at least been a man about disliking me."

"Some nords just can't see deeper than skin, or scales, rather," Fjork said and shrugged. "Talking about business over dinner is boring, anyway. Fjork, by the way."

"Oh, well said, well said. Ariss Cold-Gaze," she said and lifted her mug toward him. He obliged her greeting toast.

"I've always liked that about argonians," Fjork said, as he set down his lightened mug. Ariss looked at him and raises a brow. "Your names. Every argonian I've met has a name that says something honest and specific about them. It's like, just by a name, you can feel like you know who they are. And, I'll be honest, your eyes were one of the first things I noticed."

She smiled and scooted closer. "I could swear the first thing the two of you noticed was the sweetroll."

Fjork turned his head away and rubbed his short beard bashfully. "That was . . . difficult to overlook. Can't say I've ever seen a woman use, ahem, use herself as a plate."

Ariss laughed softly and patted the nord's bare forearm; the sleeves of his loose-fitting linen shirt rolled up to his elbows. She trailed a claw across his skin for a brief moment then turned her attention to her dinner. The meager amount of bread and sausage, and ample boredom, had left her ravenous.

"Tell me, nord, what does my name tell you about me?" She asked, voice drizzled with honey sweetness. She abandoned manners and greedily tore into her stew. The type of lady she surmised he preferred did not care much for etiquette. Her stew was half gone by the time he broke his long silence.

"That you view the world through the eyes of a cold heart."

Ariss' spoon stopped halfway to her lips. She glanced at him without turning her head. "Go on," she said icily and continued eating, but slower.

"Uhm, what I-I mean is, uh--" Fjork stuttered to a stop and took a deep breath, "what I meant was that you've probably had a difficult life. I have heard what the Dunmer do to your kind on Morrowind. The scars under your eye probably aren't the only ones. That kind of life can make someone close themselves off from the world."

Shit, she cursed to herself. This conversation was becoming dangerous. The man was quite insightful and if she continued their conversation for too long completing the contract was going to become emotionally difficult. She hadn't been raised to be an assassin and still found walling off her conscience, in the name of completing a contract, difficult.

"You're a perceptive man," Ariss said. She finished her last spoonful of stew and chewed thoughtfully. Fjork's cheeks flushed.

"Kind of you to say. I apologize if I brought up bad memories."

"You're forgiven. While I commend your accuracy, companionship of the mind isn't what I'm hunting for tonight."

"You're not looking for that other argonian, are you?" he asked with some hesitation.

"Other argonian?" Ariss asked without looking at him. She pushed her empty bowl to the center of the table and tugged at the edge of her kerchief until the sweetroll was between them.

"He was here last night, said he'd be around again tonight, but I haven't seen him."

"Oh, you'll probably see him again soon, but no, I'm not looking for him."

With one hand, Ariss picked up the sweetroll and placed the other on Fjork's hand on top of the table. A look of mild surprise passed over his face.

"Because I've already found what I'm looking for," she said sultrily.

The nord looked like he was about to start sweating. Ariss leaned closer and demurely tilted her snout down. She slyly gripped his wrist, moved his hand under the table, nestled his fingers high up between her thighs, and pressed her knees together. Despite her skirt, she felt his fingers stiffen in shock.

"Perhaps you'd like a taste of my sweetroll," she whispered to him with heavy-lidded eyes as she held the treat up to his face and shifted her thighs. She saw his throat bob as he gulped.

"Oh. Uhm, Divines, well," he babbled, before finally settling on Yes. He polished off the last of his ale in one long pull. It was hard for him to think clearly with his hand nestled into such exquisitely uncouth warmth.

Ariss felt a small swell of pride and grinned toothily to herself. Didn't even need this coercion potion. She dragged his fingers from between her thighs and placed them back on the table. While they shared her dessert, and she finished her ale, she kept catching looks of wonder from him--as if he expected her to change her mind, or be a figment of his imagination.

She licked the sugary glaze from her fingertips, tongue reaching past her lips. Fjork coughed softly and shifted on the bench. "Ready for seconds?" she growled huskily.

"You're something else, woman. Do you have a room? I share a house with my sister and, well..."

His sister? Curious. He doesn't seem to be lying...

Ariss stood without a word. She stepped over the bench and trailed her fingers across his shoulders as she walked past. When he didn't follow right away, she looked back and flashed a lascivious smile. A subtle twitch of her snout in the direction of her room was enough to get him moving--after he took a moment to pretend to check his pockets. Ariss' grin widened. He thought he was being subtle, but it was obvious he was adjusting himself.

She turned at her room and put her back against the door. Fjork stopped in front of her as she glanced around the inn. A pillar mostly blocked the view of anybody that might look their way. The knowing smirk that spread across the nord's face told her that what he thought she was doing was not that same as what she was _actually_doing.

"Here we are," she said to cover the sound of her claw scraping against wood. She pushed the door open and stepped into the room with her back to the chair in the corner. Her tail brushed up against something that definitely was not made of wood. That something brushed her, very inappropriately, in return as the nord followed and swiftly shut the door.

"My home away from home. Have a seat on the bed," Ariss said. She strolled to the dresser, putting extra emphasis on the sway of her hips and the languid back-and-forth swing of her tail. Fjork did as she had suggested. He was exactly where she wanted him, behind her and unable to see what she was doing.

The bottle of wine let out a pop as the cork came loose. With sleight of hand, which she'd been practicing since joining the Dark Brotherhood, she retrieved the paralysis potion from her blouse, popped the tiny cork, and poured the vial and wine simultaneously into the same cup. When she filled her own, she removed the unused potion and tucked it beneath her rucksack on the dresser. If the nord got handsy it'd be difficult to explain away a vial nestled under her breast; Babette hadn't been specific on how long it would take for the potion to start working.

Ariss turned and held out the cup of wine to Fjork with a suggestive smile. "To a pleasurable evening?"

"I'll drink to that!" Fjork chuckled. He took the proffered cup and gently gripped the fingers of Ariss' now emptied hand and rubbed his thumb across her smooth, pebbled knuckles. "To a pleasurable evening."

Ariss smirked and put the cup to her lips. "Indeed," she agreed. She tilted her head back and gulped the wine indecorously.

With a flick of the wrist, her cup disappeared over her shoulder, bounced off the wall, and clattered on the floor. She snatched Fjork's cup and treated it with equal disregard. The nord seemed nonplussed and scooted back until the back of his knees pressed against the bed. His confusion was remedied when the argonian lifted the hem of her dress to her knees, straddled his lap, and draped her arms over his shoulders.

Fjork leaned back so he could look up into the argonian's frosted eyes. "Hello there."

Ariss responded by pressing her lips into the nord's hard enough to push his head back. He had to throw one arm behind his back to keep from being pushed onto the bed on his back. Of all the ways he could have imagined his regular evening at the inn going, this scenario was beyond imagination.

The argonian tilted her head, parted her lips, and slipped her tongue into his mouth when he pushed back into her. They both tasted wine. Fjork ran her free hand up Ariss' chest to her bare throat. He felt her impossibly smooth pebbling of scales. This was the first argonian he'd ever touched and, not only was he feeling her lips and sharp teeth with his tongue, he was sliding the tips of his fingers into the valley between her pliant breasts.

Ariss pulled back her arms to the lacing of her bodice and quickly pulled the knot out. Making out with Fjork and allowing him to distract himself with her body was an easy way to kill time waiting for the potion to take effect, but she couldn't deny the arousal bubbling up within her. He wasn't rough when he unbuttoned the top of her blouse and pulled it down to free her breasts, wasn't rough as he gently kneaded them and kissed her neck, and wasn't rough when his tongue flicked across her stiff nipple and his lips closed around it.

Fjork pulled back and their eyes met. Ariss moaned into the nord's lips when his hands gripped her breasts and pulled her lips into his. She leaned back a few moments later and grabbed the bottom of his shirt and yanked it up.

"In a hurry, are we," Fjork laughed and lifted her arms obediently. His shirt was tossed aside just as his cup had been.

"You have no idea," Ariss whispered. She put her hands against his shoulders and pushed. He reclined back. There was no doubt that he was a man of physical labor. Broader of shoulder than Veezara and more muscle with a rounder belly. Ariss adjusted her position, sat back on his hips, and wiggled her butt. "Feeling a little stiff?"

Fjork chuckled and put his hands on her thighs. Then he paused. "Actually, now that you mention it..."

"Yes, I can tell," Ariss said and rolled her eyes. She gripped the nord's shoulders and spread her knees, pressing harder into him. Having neglected to put on underwear, she could easily feel his erection through his pants. His hands slid down her skirt to her knees and disappeared under the hem. The smoothness of his skin made her scales tingle.

"Mmm. Maybe it's just nerves making me feel tense. Can't be the booze."

Ariss curled down and put her lips next to the nord's ear. "I make you nervous?"

"Being like this with a beautiful woman makes me nervous," Fjork said. His hand pressed against the crease of scales where thigh met body--thumbs brushing against her mons.

Thank Sithis the potion is taking effect, Ariss thought. To Fjork she said seductively, "maybe I can help relieve some of that tension you feel."

Fjork's thumbs slipped lower and a jolt of pleasure loosed a reflexive moan from Ariss' lips. She really hoped the potion locked down the nord's body soon. If Fjork kept sweet-talking her--better than even Veezara--it would make not fucking him a much more difficult decision. Veezara was very close. Perhaps she could just rip off her skirt, free Fjork of his pants, and lift her tail for the Shadowscale. Ariss sighed silently; some fantasies were best kept as fantasies.

"Ariss?" Fjork asked. His voice tinged with uncertainty.

Ariss sat back up. "Yes?"

"I'm having... having a hard time moving my... body." Fjork struggled to finish his sentence. He tried to move his hands. They didn't respond. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how hard he willed his fingers to move, he was frozen. The gorgeous argonian, with her sparkling scales, kind words, and perfect curves was gazing down upon him with... pity? What is happening! Fjork wondered fearfully.

Ariss turned her snout toward the empty chair and made a beckoning motion. Wood creaked. The only muscle Fjork was able to control was minor movements of his eyes. It wasn't much, but he was able to look a bit in all directions away from the woman's reptilian face.

Why me? What did I do?_Fjork thought, terror bubbling in his gut. His stomach felt like he'd swallowed a rock; his heart pounded. He tried to force his lips and tongue to move and nothing happened. _Sorcery? Poison?

Fjork's gaze twitched to look over Ariss' shoulder. Something shimmered like waves of heat off a hot stone. An outline of something became visible as he stared. And then another argonian appeared out of thin air. They wore full-body armor and stared dispassionately down at him; a grim and scarred face he wouldn't want to meet alone at night. And then realization dawned on him. She had planned this.

Ariss twisted around and held out her hands. "The dagger and gem, Veezara."

Veezara loosened the pouch on his belt and pulled the obsidian crystal out of it, then the wicked dagger and placed the items into Ariss' waiting palms.

"Thank you," Ariss said. She turned back to the nord lying frozen beneath her. His eyes were locked on hers. It was unnerving. Fjork had done nothing untoward and she had begun to doubt Nif's story after talking with him over dinner. However, a contract had been agreed to. The contract must be fulfilled. But ... the Night Mother had not told her of this contract; the will of Sithis did not demand this. But ... Astrid was the Brotherhood's will.

Ariss shifted forward and sat on Fjork's pelvis. She felt like she should say something to the man. Tell him she was only doing as she was told, or that murdering him was nothing personal, or that she had truly enjoyed their time together. But talking wouldn't change anything.

The blade felt heavy in her hand and the soul gem seemed to pulse as if it knew it was about to contain the soul of a previously sentient being. She squeezed the large, black gem and pressed one end against Fjork's bare chest. The blade slowly lowered. Ariss couldn't look the nord in the eyes, so she stared at the blade's target. The tip of the Daedric blade dimpled the skin above his heart. A small globule of blood oozed into the depression.

"Stay your hand, my child." A woman's voice reverberated in her head. Ariss froze. The voice was the same she'd heard while hiding inside the sarcophagus to spy on Cicero.

"Yes, Listener, hear your mother. The woman who requested this contract is a charlatan. She did not perform the Black Sacrament and capturing his soul would deny Sithis his claim," said the Night Mother. "Astrid has led you astray. Not maliciously, yet. Simple hubris."

Ariss felt just as paralyzed as the nord, despite the quivering of her hands. In her periphery, Veezara came to her side and brought his face into her view, his visage grave. She realized her mouth was open, a rictus of nausea. Had she made any noises, had she screamed? She began to salivate and her stomach tightened.

"Ariss?" Veezara gripped her shoulder.

"Listener," the Night Mother said gently, but her tone demanded the entirety of Ariss' being heed her. "Spare him, for I feel he may be useful to you someday. Tell him of his sister's deception, but leave him. The lying wench is a spy for the Penitus Oculantus. You are caught in a spider's web. Send her to meet the Dread Father." An intense thrill of pleasure raced up Ariss' spine at the mention of Sithis that made her body warm. The Night Mother's pleasure?

"Ariss!" Veezara hissed and shook her shoulder.

"Avoid the agents, they are already on their way. Return to the Sanctuary, Listener. Continue to follow Astrid's orders. For now..."

The Night Mother's ethereal presence faded from the depths of her skull. Her muscles loosened so quickly she almost dropped herself onto the dagger poised over the nord. The Night Mother's last two words echoed: For now. Ariss felt the words portended a great change. But what?

"Ariss! What happened?" Veezara asked staring at her, eyes darting in search of assurance in hers. Ariss sat up, still straddling the frozen, half-naked nord.

"The Night Mother," she whispered. She closed her eyes. Her body felt like it had been awake for days.

"The Night Mother?" Veezara asked, surprised. He glanced down at the nord, whose eyes met his, and saw desperate, but questioning fear. "What did she say?"

"To spare him." Ariss opened her eyes and saw Veezara's skepticism. "And to kill the woman that requested this contract." She handed the dagger to her partner and then bent over the nord, placing her hands on either side of his head, compelling the man to look nowhere but at her.

"Fjork," Ariss started, eyes locked to his, "a woman, claiming to be your wife, contracted us to kill you. She claimed infidelity. This woman was your sister. Through his vessel, Sithis has passed judgment: for her deception, I have been ordered to kill her. We will be long gone before you can react. You will be questioned, but speak of our existence and I will hear. Sithis will not grant clemency a second time.

"You will tell them that you were tricked by a strange woman, poisoned and robbed, for that is what happened. You are being spared because our paths will cross again. You are still of use to the Dread Lord." Ariss bent down and softly kissed the nord. The shock in his eyes made her laugh. "Do not fear more assassins, Fjork. Sithis watches over you now."

Ariss climbed off the bed. Veezara had a strange look on his face. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him hard. He stiffened and didn't recover before she stepped back.

"He was fun, but I prefer scales," she said. While true, it left her complicated feelings unspoken. "Now, pack our things while I change into my armor. A noose is closing around our necks. Agents of the Penitus Oculantus are coming."

Veezara did as he was told and turned to his task. "How do you know?" he asked.

"She told me," Ariss said.

"Of course. My apologies, Listener."

Ariss stripped off her clothes and shoved them into her rucksack. Veezara didn't even spare a glance at her as he worked. In four minutes, she was dressed, Veezara had packed their equipment and they were both ready to sneak out, packs slung across their backs. She looked back at the nord still paralyzed on the bed and felt a pang of sympathy for him.

"Fjork," Ariss said and approached the bed, "I apologize for how the evening turned out. You're a good man, for a smooth-skin." She tugged his pants back up to spare him some of his dignity and turned his head so he could see the door.

"Ariss, the way out is clear," Veezara whispered.

"Until next time," Ariss smiled and patted the nord's chest.

Fjork watched as the pair of argonian assassins vanished before his very eyes. He still didn't understand what in Oblivion was going on, but he was at least pretty sure he was no longer in mortal danger. And, even though she had almost murdered him and was off to kill his sister, he kind of regretted not getting to have sex with her. He thought of the fate about to befall his sister, instead of him, and came to a simple conclusion: That fucking bitch. He'd hated her since their father had passed away.

Now away from the Windpeak Inn and out of torchlight range, Veezara shifted from a stealthy stroll to a stomping, fast walk.

"Allow me to enter first, Listener," Veezara seethed. The darkness thinly concealed the rage on his face.

"Granted." His use of the title Listener was bizarre--like he'd just decided he believed she was the Listener--but her mind was still wreathed in fog from the Night Mother's presence. She hoped being the Listener wouldn't make her feel this way every time she heard. The shock of hearing the Night Mother for the first time had masked the aftermath. Despite the toll, her energy was quickly returning.

Veezara jumped the steps onto Nif's porch. He looked ready to beat down the woman's door but stopped himself. After a deep breath, he politely rapped his knuckles against the door. They both moved to stay in shadow, away from the faint light coming through the windows.

"Who is it?" A muffled voice behind the door demanded.

"Your husband slumbers. We're returning what's yours," Ariss said. She pitched her voice to be easily heard through the wood, but not drift far away to any passersby.

"Oh. Already? Uh, excellent! You may leave the items outside the door."

Ariss frowned. "No. It's not safe."

"I doubt it. This is Dawnstar! Your payment is inside the pot on the bench."

Veezara moved to check. Ariss scanned the waterfront to see if anybody was coming their way. The coast was still clear. Veezara returned, holding up a bag, and nodded. Her grimace deepened.

"I will only return the soul gem and dagger directly to you, or I keep them. Non-negotiable."

Nif was silent for a time. Ariss realized the woman was stalling for time. Veezara clicked his tongue. She looked at him and he pointed across the bay toward the Windpeak Inn. Following his gaze, she saw what he did. A group of six armored people moving quickly down the main street toward the inn. She could just make out the insignia on the bucklers of two of the individuals in the flickering torchlight. Penitus Oculantus. Fuck! Ariss shot Veezara a 'what are they doing here!' look. He shrugged in response.

Ariss was about to use her skeleton key and force her way in when the door clicked and the handle turned. Nif only opened the door a crack, but it was all they needed.

Veezara shoved the door open, slamming it into the woman's bewildered face. She opened her mouth to scream. His large hand clamped over her mouth and broken nose and her screeches of pain died at his scales. Ariss quickly, quietly closed the door behind her and followed the Shadowscale as he practically dragged the woman across the floor. He slammed her body down onto the table in the middle of the room; he shifted his grip off her nose so she could breathe again. Blood seeped around his fingers and palm; his claws pierced into her cheeks.

He stood off to one side of the table and restrained one of the woman's arms; stunned from the blow to her head, she had yet to start struggling. Ariss strode up to the table, opposite Veezara, and finished restraining the woman. She leaned in close to her face and grinned wickedly.

"Thought your little ploy would succeed, bitch?" Ariss laughed. "For attempting to deceive the Dark Brotherhood, Sithis has sentenced you to death." She pulled the soul gem from her pocket and held it up for Nif to see. "But don't worry, the Dread Father wants your soul sent to him, so we won't be needing this."

Ariss tossed the gem over her shoulder; it landed on the floor with a thud and rolled under a chair. Using the Daedric blade, she cut open the front of Nif's brown blouse, throat to waist, and part of her skirt. She pushed the split shirt aside to bare her torso. The woman thrashed, legs kicking the air, and screamed into Veezara's hand; Ariss had made no attempt to only cut cloth. Vertical cuts, like a crudely drawn dotted line, oozed crimson from her collar bone to below her navel.

"Your innocent brother still lives. And he enjoyed every moment of pleasure I gave him," Ariss said with sinister glee. "But you, a worthless, lying whore, will be pleasing me to your last breath." She stabbed the dagger into the table and grabbed Nif's left breast and kneaded it roughly.

"Mm, supple. Such a shame they were wasted on a wench like you," she hissed into the nord's ear. She tightened her grip slowly, felt her claws meet soft flesh and resistance until that resistance evaporated--warmth and wetness against her claws. Nif's chest hitched and her choked sobbing was muffled by Veezara's hand.

Ariss glanced up at Veezara and was surprised to see discomfort; he was keeping the woman restrained, but his head was turned away. His look made her realize she was getting carried away. They didn't have time for this. The Penitus Oculantus had likely already found Fjork.

"You're lucky your friends are already here. Of course, I knew about them. But the only thing they're doing for you is forcing me to make your death quick," Ariss hissed. She raked her claws down Nif's right side, from her shoulder, over her breast, and down her ribs, leaving behind five angry, bright red lines. She grabbed the dagger, yanked it out of the table, and placed it against Nif's belly, over her womb.

"You're only suitable to Sithis as a whore, so I'm sending you to him barren."

Ariss put her palm against her fist around the dagger's hilt and shoved down, putting all over her weight behind the blade. She felt the metal pass through layers of flesh in an instant, then skip off bone and finally come to rest in, what she assumed to be, the table. Ariss kept her weight on the blade as Nif writhed and tried to cry out, though the effort was wasted. Nif's legs hanging over the edge of the table didn't join in her thrashing.

Ariss twisted the blade and left it as she stood up. A quivering pool of blood began to form in the woman's navel. She could hear Nif struggling to breathe through her broken nose, snorting and coughing on the blood filling her sinuses. It was time to deliver her to the Void. She pushed Veezara's hand away from Nif's face and gripped the woman's chin, palm over her mouth, and forced her head back, exposing her bloodied throat.

"And a whore doesn't deserve to cry out Sithis' name," Ariss growled, her lips pulling back to brandish rows of sharp teeth. She bowed her head and closed her jaws around Nif's throat. Blood spurted onto her tongue as flesh yielded and cartilage buckled. The nord's final cry died between argonian jaws as Ariss arched her back and jerked her head up.

Ariss spit the clump of gore onto the floor, where it landed with a disturbing, wet slap; she felt blood dribbling from her lips as she watched Nif bleed.

Blood spurted from Nif's neck to the rhythm of her rapid heartbeat. Ariss knew the body held a lot of blood, but it still surprised her to see just how much as it soaked into clothing and leaked between the table's boards, and rained onto the floor. Nif's mouth gaped like a fish out of the water and her hands, no longer restrained, closed around her throat, fruitlessly trying to close the ragged hole. The only noise she made was a sickening gurgle--blood trying to get back into her body by filling her lungs.

Ariss grabbed the nord's skirt and wiped her bloodied face off, but she'd need water to properly clean between her scales.

"We're leaving," Ariss grunted.

"Y-yes, Listener," he stuttered, but didn't move. He was having a hard time comprehending what he'd just watched Ariss do. He was no stranger to violence, to carnage, to unspeakable horrors, but to see the woman he was falling in love with rip out someone's throat with her own teeth out of nowhere...

"Come on!" Ariss shouted. She grabbed Veezara's wrist and pulled him away from the table. He spared one last glance back at the woman dying on the table. The dagger! A blade as rare and valuable as that wasn't worth leaving behind.

He pulled against Ariss' grip. "I'm taking that dagger."

"Quickly," Ariss said and let him go. She went to the door, cracked it open, and peered out into the night. Her eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness as she looked around. She didn't see anybody moving. The group hunting them could already be waiting in the shadows, or they could still be at the inn.

"I'm not sure it's safe to sneak out. We're going to have to--" Ariss stopped when the door to the Windpeak flew open and the six Penitus Oculantus goons rushed out, swords drawn. "Fuck! They're coming!"

The two argonians slipped through the door and closed it. Their pursuers hadn't made any indication they had seen them leave the house. But as they left the porch the party walking briskly toward them split: two toward Nif's house, two to cover the road out of Dawnstar, and two off the road to flank the house.

Just as they were leaving the houses behind and making their way for the sparse forest, they heard a distant shout: "There! I think I saw someone running away!"

Ariss broke into a sprint straight into the forest. The deepening snow off the beaten path was soon slowing her significantly. Although it was dark and there was little moonlight, their tracks would still be easy to follow. Whether they escaped or not would come down to which party had the highest endurance. She didn't like their chances against a group that was likely well-rested, better prepared, and triple in number.

"Ariss!" Veezara shouted behind her. "Were any of them argonian?"

She stopped and turned. "What?"

"Our pursuers. Were any of them argonian?" He said between ragged breaths.

"No," Ariss said. She only recalled seeing human faces. Veezara grabbed her wrist and pulled her into an awkward run, perpendicular to their previous direction.

"Come on!"

"Where are we going?"

"The ocean!" Veezara laughed as he ran.

Ariss chased after him, pushing herself to keep up with him. _The fucking ocean?_And then it dawned on her. The reason was annoyingly obvious. Only Veezara and herself could breathe underwater. They'd lose their pursuers by going where they couldn't. However, she was dreading the plunge into near freezing water. She wondered how long they'd have to stay under; how far would they have to swim?

The sound of waves gently lapping the shore was close. The snow became shallower and the forest disappeared. Ariss had never much cared for the ocean, but now the sound was akin to salvation. The snow disappeared and they stepped onto a rocky beach. She felt no sand shifting beneath her toes.

Veezara told her to make sure her rucksack was on tight as he checked his and she noticed him tucking a bundle of cloth, dagger-shaped, into his pack. She glanced back the way they had come as she tightened the leather straps of her rucksack. Her nice cloak and skimpy nightwear were not going to take well to the salty water. There was no sign of their pursuers, but that was the opposite of reassuring.

"If we're lucky they'll assume we stayed on the rocks. Hopefully, they won't remember the water breathing thing, or better yet, they didn't see that we're argonian," Veezara laughed. Ariss couldn't see his cocky grin, but she heard it. "Also, drink this."

Veezara wrapped his hand around Ariss' and squeezed a glass vial into her palm.

"What's this?" Ariss asked.

"An elixir to resist the cold."

"Why the hell do you just happen to have this?" Ariss asked, incredulous.

"Because we live in fucking Skyrim! Every argonian should carry a couple in case of an emergency. Like running for your life." Veezara chuckled at Ariss' silence. "Drink!"

They opened their small bottles and drank the bitter liquid in a single gulp. With only a sliver of the moon overhead he could just make out the edges of her snout, but that was enough. He cupped the sides of her snout and pressed his lips tight to hers. With peril chasing their shadows, he broke away just as she returned his affection.

"This won't be easy, but we'll get through this together. Come on!" Veezara grabbed Ariss' hand and pulled her to the ocean's gently lapping waves.

Warmth blossomed in Ariss' stomach and quickly careened through her veins, a wall of heat slamming the chill out from beneath her scales. Freezing water splashed against her bare feet and the shock caused an involuntary, violent shiver. Veezara waded out through the gentle waves. It was easier to follow the sound of his splashing than to try and see him. Once she was in up to her neck and floating, she drifted close to him.

"Apparently there are nords that do this for fun," Veezara chuckled tremulously.

"I appreciate the levity, but I'm freezing, Veezara!" Ariss hissed. She felt his hand slip around hers and squeeze tight.

They both twisted around when they heard shouting on the shore. A trio of figures illuminated by the torch that each carried. While the light was too far to reveal the floating pair, Ariss felt dangerously exposed.

"Tracks stop here!" said the first.

"They had to have kept going along the beach!" said the second.

"But which way?" said the third. A fourth torch bounced up.

"We'll split up. You two east, myself and Karth will go west."

Ariss felt a tug at her hand and turned in time to watch Veezara's head sink beneath the black water. Tiny bubbles burbled to the surface. She glanced back at the shore as the two pairs split apart and jogged away. They hadn't been noticed. Ariss exhaled and sank beneath the gentle roll of the ocean. She squeezed her lover's hand and adjusted her orientation.

Together they started swimming east, tails slicing back and forth to propel them through the mysterious world of the ocean at night. Even with the potion, the cold made her feel sluggish, but with Veezara by her side she felt no fear. Ariss swore that there was no way a few Penitus Oculatus goons were going to stop her. The last Listener.

Recuperation

"How far did you have to swim?" Babette asked. The child-sized vampire sat perched on the edge of her seat. She was leaned forward with her elbows on the table, hanging on Ariss' every word. It had felt like decades since she'd last heard a story so riveting.

"It felt like forever, especially once that resistance potion started to wear off."

"I still can't believe you never thought to ask me for any," Babette said. Her girly giggle was entirely at Ariss' expense.

"I've had other things on my mind lately!"

"Ohhh, yes. I'm sure he's had a lot on his mind as well. I'm certain you've left part of your tale out. Remember our deal for those two potions?" The impish grin Babette gave Ariss unsettled her. A devilish look that shouldn't have been possible to fit on a child's face. Ariss struggled to conceal her embarrassment. She really didn't want to divulge such lecherous details.

"We swam until we felt safe in leaving the water, waded ashore, and started walking toward Winterhold," Ariss said.

"If I had known you'd be detouring there I would have given you a shopping list!"

Ariss breathed a faint sigh of relief that Babette had decided not to press her. "I hadn't planned on it. It was the nearest place we knew we'd be able to hire transport."

"I imagine that was not a fun trek, cold to the bone and sopping wet."

"It was a long and horrible night." An involuntary shiver raced up Ariss' spine at the memory. She shuddered and rubbed her upper arms for warmth.

"Hm, sounds like you could have used another mouth full of the woman's blood to warm you up! She must have been delicious," Babette said wistfully. She licked her lips and sighed at the waste of perfectly good blood.

"Blegh. Part of me regrets doing that. I've never had that much blood on my tongue before and I don't want it ever again."

"Ah, well, you might call it an acquired taste." The child vampire smirked, showing a hint of one of her elongated canines.

"I'll take your word on that one."

"Anything else exciting happen?"

"Not at all, thankfully. We hired a carriage at Winterhold and worked our way here."

Babette leaned forward and fixed Ariss with a mischievous stare. "Nothing exciting_happened in the carriage? Such a small, cramped space for two argonians. Must have been hard not to _accidentally brush up against one another."

Ariss shot up from her chair, almost tipping it over. "Well! I must report to Astrid what happened. I apologize that I cannot spend more time with our pleasant conversation."

Babette waved her away and giggled maniacally, like a demented child finding absolute joy in pulling the legs off of bugs. The laughter followed Ariss as she quickly left the room and made her way to Astrid's usual hangout.

Ariss found Astrid where she expected to find her. She had intended to go straight to the leader of the Dark Brotherhood, but Babette had found her first and demanded her attention. After a brief greeting, Ariss told Astrid that same story. And left out all the same details about her intimate interactions with Veezara. She was tempted to leave out the details of what she'd done to Nif but decided not to. Most importantly, she told of the Penitus Oculantus agents that had come after them. That the whole contract had been a setup from the start.

"You two had quite the adventure," Astrid chuckled. "Your dispatching of the woman sounds like it must have been a sight for Veezara. He might even be a little bit afraid of you now!"

"I hope not. I let myself get carried away."

Astrid flicked her wrist. "No matter. No harm came to either of you, contract completed, that brotherhood is being hunted as always, and the Night Mother spoke to you again. Did she say anything about what we should do next?"

"No. She said to follow your orders." Ariss left out the ominous 'For now.'

"Speaking of my orders, I know you've only just returned, but we have an important mission that needs immediate attention."

Ariss kept the frown she wanted to wear from reaching her lips. "I am here to serve."

"After this, you should have a bit of time to recuperate. I promise. I'm sure you remember what I told you after you came back from having that amulet from Amaund Motierre appraised by Delvin Mallory, that the amulet is only given to members of the Elder Council.

"Well, I've decided what our next move is going to be. Now, this job could be quite interesting for you! You will be traveling to Solitude to attend the wedding of Vittoria Vici, first cousin of Emperor Titus Mede II. Ah, wedding days are always so lovely; days of joy, merriment, and love. It will be one of the best days of her life and you'll make sure it's also her last! Haha!"

"What does killing the emperor's cousin do for the Brotherhood?" Ariss asked.

"To draw his attention to Skyrim. To lure the emperor into striking range!" Astrid's feral grin wouldn't have looked out of place on her husband, Arnbjorn's, wolfen visage. "To start us down a path the Dark Brotherhood hasn't traveled in centuries: the toppling of an empire! Before I get too excited, there are a few details to discuss."

Ariss smiled and stopped listening to Astrid as she began explaining the minor details. She'd never been to a wedding before. Maybe she could enjoy some of the festivities before cutting them short? Could she dress up for all the pomp and circumstance, then slink away into the shadows and strike? She had been practicing with a bow in the Sanctuary but doubted she could make a kill at any real distance. Maybe Astrid would let her bring Veezara along and they could enjoy the festivities together...

She considered if she'd ever have her own wedding or ceremony of mateship? She had never been to the Black Marsh, so her own people's methods were foreign. Ariss, grinning at the idea, nodded at Astrid and continued daydreaming about what that future might be like as the other woman prattled on. Would someone try to assassinate her at her wedding, if she ever had one? Not that she had considered it until now, but did being the Listener mean she could never leave the Dark Brotherhood?

_Would Veezara be there?_she wondered. And grinned.