"Let's get married."

That single statement caused a few reactions among the denizens of Skyrim. If the person saying it was attractive, or powerful, or in some other way appealing to the recipient, the reply was typically an enthusiastic yes. If not, then likely a no. The people of Skyrim had short enough lives that marriage wasn't something to delay, but to embrace and dive into wholeheartedly. As a result, when proposing to a Nord of either gender, you knew whether or not they loved you very quickly. In this case, said so clearly and simply, as if it were deciding to go for a stroll on a clear Sundas morning, that statement elicited a…much different response.

Specifically, the rapid ejection of half a mouthful of water from the mouth of the female recipient.

A pair of sunset-orange eyes snapped from their previous focus, a large, imposing edifice with two stories and a balcony overlooking a waterway; to stare directly at the speaker. The recipient's reply was nothing short of shocked. "What?"

The speaker, a tall, lithe man in hooded black leather armor, shrugged his shoulders and began twirling a small throwing knife between his fingers, never taking his eyes off the building. "Think about it, Sera. You already live with me, we share everything—including a bed—and love is far from lacking." His gaze flickered to the woman at his side, a smile twitching at his lips. "We're practically already married, so why not go all the way?"

Sera's lips pursed tightly as she stared back at him, shifting her eyes back to the house so he wouldn't see her blushing. "It's not that simple, Kay."

He shrugged. "And why not?"

"B-Because," she said, scrambling for words, "marriage isn't something you're supposed to rush into, right?"

He snorted derisively. "Serana, it's been over two months since we realized that the depths of our feelings were mutual. Compared to the rest of Skyrim, we're dragging our feet."

Serana gave him a complete deadpan look. "When did we start comparing ourselves to the rest of Skyrim? Or anyone, for that matter?"

Ketar sighed hard and stopped twirling his knife. "You're missing the point here. We've been together, courting, for a…relatively long time." He smiled at her. "And I can't think of a single other person who I'd want to spend my life with more."

Serana sighed and smiled back. "That's sweet, but I think you're considering our situation a little irresponsibly."

He frowned. "How so?"

She arched a raven eyebrow. "Do I really have to list the reasons why this is a bad idea right now? Okay. Maven—"

"Who we're currently dealing with."

"Maven," she repeated with extra emphasis, "Vingalmo, Alduin…need I go on?"

Ketar stared at her. "If we're going to base our lives around whether or not we've already slain the monster of the week, we're never gonna move forward."

She shrugged and turned back toward the house. "Honestly, I'd be okay with that."

His stare intensified. "Seriously? What do you have against getting married?"

Serana sighed hard in agitation. "I don't, okay? I don't have anything against getting married, I just—I don't think now is a good time." When she still felt his eyes on her profile, she made a noise in the back of her throat and waved at an armored woman to her right. "Lydia, help me out here."

Lydia released a forced laugh of incredulity. "Oh no. I am not getting between you two when you're having a fight. Learned that lesson right quick."

…

Lydia had to shake her head. For all their supposed maturity, Serana at well over a thousand years and Ketar at almost twenty-one, they were bickering like five-year-old schoolchildren, and not in a cute way. In a way that put Lydia's teeth on edge and made her want to clomp them both over the head with her cast-iron pots…which, admittedly, would give them a common enemy and probably stop their fighting. Still, as (apparently) the only adult in the house, it was her responsibility to mediate their dispute. A decision which quickly proved excessively hazardous when an overexpression in the form of a backhand by Serana nearly put Lydia through a nearby wall.

…

The pair stared at Lydia for ten solid seconds of silence before Ketar finally responded.

"That is…a gross exaggeration of the facts."

Lydia shrugged and resumed polishing her sword. "Not by much."

Serana groaned at her. "You're of no help at all." Seeing Kay's earnest expression staring her in the face, Sera sighed hard. "We'll…talk about it, okay? Just," she waved at the house below, "not when we're about to invade the home of a homicidal madwoman."

Ketar smiled and nodded. "Fair enough." His gaze turned to the residence. "But we are going to talk about it."

She smiled ruefully. "You never give up, do you?"

"Nope." He smiled wider. "One of the many reasons you love me."

"Sadly…" she sighed, "yes."

Sera smiled over at him when he turned his gaze toward her, the couple exchanging a small laugh before returning to their vigil.

Serana sighed and glanced at Lydia. "I feel terrible about that backhand, by the way."

The housecarl chuckled and sheathed her icy blade. "I know. You spent the better part of half an hour trying to apologize after Ketar healed me up. And helped cook dinner." She winced. "Which…admittedly, he's a lot better at."

Sera arched an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"…Serana, if you ever cooked, it was undoubtedly before you turned into a vampire. Or you're just really out of practice."

"I spent the last thousand years sleeping, for Shor's sake. Give me a little room for error."

Ketar snorted. "Uh, well, no offense dear—"

"Oh gods, not you too."

"—but I once impersonated a continent-renowned chef who was contracted to cook dinner for the Emperor of Cyrodiil." He smiled sweetly. "It's not a knock on you so much as saying that you're not even close to my level."

Serana stared at him with dangerously narrow eyes, trying to decide whether or not to take the backhanded compliment until—

"No, honey," Lydia said, "your cooking is just that bad."

Ketar groaned as Serana shot Lydia a death glare from the side. Silence overtook the rooftop on which they were currently perched for a full twenty seconds before it was broken by Ketar's voice.

"She is right though."

Serana rolled her eyes and growled at the both of them, silently sulking when something near the house caught her eye. And immediately, she was all business. "Guys—there." She pointed at the western end of the house, where a lightly armored figure was seen exiting the house.

"Shift change," said Ketar excitedly, reaching for his back pocket to retrieve a midnight-black amulet with an engraving of a nightingale holding a teardrop-shaped amethyst. "Karliah, Brynjolf, you there?"

"Here," replied a sultry female voice.

"Here, lad," said an accented Nord.

"Good. Maven's guards are changing shift. It's almost time. You all set on the plan?"

"Aye," replied Brynjolf. "Not going to be easy though."

"If it were easy," Karliah said, "it wouldn't be worth it."

"Settle down, you two," Ketar ordered. "Maven's greatest advantage has always been her reputation. If you believe you're fighting someone untouchable, then you're that much likelier to fail. Maven's just a thug with a lot of money and political power. We're the Nightingales, the chosen instruments of Nocturnal in Tamriel. Maven's presence in the Guild is a blight we were forced to endure because of Mercer's treachery. No more. Her ruthlessness has cost us—and this city—a great deal more than we can probably ever regain, but permanently putting her out of business is a start. So that is exactly what we're going to do."

Over the course of his little speech, Ketar's features, as Serana noticed, had slowly twisted into a relatively new expression that was rapidly becoming familiar. That is, the gear-turning, lightning-fast racing of a master manipulator's mind; manifested by beadily narrowed eyes and a devious smirk that promised delicious mayhem for whatever unlucky soul found itself in his sights. Shocking perhaps to see on the face of a man who prided himself on being genuine and good, but considering the crimes of the dog currently in their sights, Serana was honestly surprised that he was tasking the Thieves Guild to handle her, and not his…other organization. Although, given her longtime status as the oppressive benefactor of the Guild, she supposed it was only right that they be the ones to topple her.

Poetic justice, if you will.

Brynjolf's chuckles reached them over the Nightingales' link. "You always know how to inspire confidence, don't you?"

Ketar smirked. "I try. Now get ready, you two. I'm about to knock on her front door." He motioned to Lydia, who nodded and descended to street level after pulling a brown leather cowl around her hair. "Or, rather, the ladies are."

Two heavily armored women approached the well-lit front of Maven's house, both with glass swords on their hips, one green, the other icy blue. The one with blonde hair and blue war paint on her face pounded the now-unguarded door with the bottom of her fist. Even across the waterway, Serana's vampire hearing could pick up the angry mutterings of a foul-tempered woman inside.

"Miserable wench—put this to rest once and for all."

A second later, an aging black-haired woman yanked the double-doors of the manor open with a scowl and fixed the blonde with a fierce glare. "Screaming my supposed crimes in the streets is one thing, Mjoll. Coming to my house and breaking down my door is quite another."

Serana could hear the mirth and sarcasm in Lydia's butting reply. "Looks like it's still on its hinges to me—no thanks to your rough touch."

Maven Black-Briar's gaze slowly dragged over to the cowled Housecarl, her head cocking slightly. "And who the hell are you?"

The grin in Lydia's voice could be heard clear as day. "Your worst nightmare."

Maven scoffed derisively and shifted her attention back to Mjoll. "Say your peace so I can have my guards throw you off my property and get on with my night."

Mjoll's voice hardened as her right hand settled on the hilt of her sword. "In the name of Skyrim and justice, Maven Black-Briar—you are under arrest."

A few seconds of silence passed before the criminal matron broke out cackling. "Really? By you and what army?"

Maven snapped her fingers, and immediately, several Riften guards came out of the nearby bushes and around the corners of her manor, boxing in the two women with swords and pikes. Lydia and Mjoll went back-to-back, the former deploying her Spellbreaker shield, the latter drawing a long boarding knife from the back of her belt with her off-hand.

Maven, meanwhile, was gloating at Mjoll. "When you first arrived in my city and started crowing about 'corruption' and 'justice,' I let it slide. Thought it'd be entertaining to see a lone woman attempt to crush my empire." Her smile faded. "It isn't funny anymore. Abandon this idiocy and leave Riften forever, or die here on a dozen blades."

Mjoll chuckled. "Funny. I only see your sorry pale ass here."

She arched an eyebrow. "Oh?"

Lydia nodded to Mjoll, then brought her shield up in front of her face as Mjoll did the same with her sleeve.

A malevolently smirking Ketar brought the Nightingale amulet to his mouth. "Now."

Immediately, two violent explosions of light and sound hit either side of the guard clusters, the disoriented soldiers coughing and shouting as they were instantly robbed of both sight and hearing. And with that, Ketar slapped Nocturnal's Embrace to his chest, gave Serana a wink and a grin, and leapt from the rooftop to join his brother and sisters.

…

While running toward Black-Briar Manor, Ketar's mind wasn't occupied by tactics or who he'd hit first. Honestly, he'd decided all of that before the flash potions went off. The sight of Mjoll beating down Maven's guards with the blunt ends of her weapons reminded him of how he'd managed to convince her to be on their side. It was…well, easier than he expected, but that wasn't saying much. Given her antagonistic stance toward the Thieves Guild, both other Nightingales had had their doubts about including the Lioness in their plans, but even after confessing his role as Guildmaster, Ketar had managed to reason with her and lay the blame for Riften's corruption squarely where it belonged: in Maven Black-Briar's lap.

Well, her and previous Guildmaster Mercer Frey, who Ketar had already executed for treason against the Guild. And if that wasn't enough, the chance to finally stick it to the smug Black-Briar matron sealed the deal. By one look alone, he could definitely tell Mjoll was enjoying this. A lot. Like, way too much. She and Lydia were both half-cackling with glee at this point, which was starting to creep Ketar out, much less the significantly less prepared guards currently subject to their wrath. Ketar's first move upon joining the fray was to drive a leaping heel-kick into the helmet of a guard whose blade strayed way too close to Lydia.

The one next to him panicked at the sight of his midnight-black armor and tried to escape, but found himself yanked backward by a magical tether around his neck and choke-slammed into the ground. A third guard tried to take a few swings at Ketar, but it was obvious from his lack of form and precision that he too was coping poorly with the effects of the terror Nightingale armor had a tendency to inflict. As a result, Ketar easily dodged or redirected his strikes, his bracers deflecting two grazing swipes as he charged inside the man's block and laid into either side of his helmet with the knuckle-plated gauntlets of his armor. Three, four, five shots impacted the steel helmet hard, denting it and dazing the man inside. A leaping knee to the face finally rendered him unconscious.

More guards poured into the courtyard around Black-Briar Manor as the two other Nightingales finally arrived, one nailing two guards with needle-tipped arrows dipped in a paralyzing toxin as she leapt from a nearby rooftop, the other tackling a female guard who was charging Lydia's side with a pike and delivering a punishing knife-hand to her neck. Maven herself had long retreated into her house, prompting Ketar to frown behind his mask and run for a nearby support pillar. He leapt toward the pillar and gripped its sides while his legs were braced against its flat front, using his leverage and powerful limbs to scale the vertical surface and reach the tiled roof one floor up.

A powerful explosive fireball built in his left hand, releasing into the side of the roof a moment later and blowing a flaming hole into the residence that he leapt through a moment later. Once inside, even Ketar had to admit that Maven had impeccable taste, but if it weren't for his friendship with Ingun, he'd have planned to burn the whole place down. Jarl Balgruuf would certainly have appreciated the symbolic gesture. Two more guards, mercenaries, by the look of their leather armor, rushed Ketar from either end of the second-story hallway, one with a battle-axe, the other a curved short sword. Two five-inch ebony throwing knives cleared their slots on either side of Ketar's chestplate, thrown toward either end of the hallway.

Only one hit its target, the axe mercenary, while the other was imbedded into a wooden serving tray adeptly repurposed as a shield by the other merc. A small hum of respect left Ketar's throat before he summoned another magical tether and lashed it to his other hand, expanding and retracting the Aetherial cable as needed. The battle-axe fell toward Ketar's shoulder in a diagonal sweep, the blow dodged when he pressed himself to one wall of the relatively narrow hallway and shin-kicked his attacker in the gut. His left hand released its end of the magic lash, the right jerking its wrist and snapping the cable over the merc's face in a blow that rent the side of his cheek and sent him reeling in pain.

The sword mercenary threw his makeshift shield at him, Ketar dodging to the side and swinging his lash toward the knife imbedded in its surface. The magical tether wrapped its far end around the hilt, and another snap of the wrist wrenched the weapon free, effectively creating a blade-tipped whip that was then used to slash at the charging sword merc in several sweeping diagonal motions. Battle-axe had recovered and was trying to bisect Ketar with a massive horizontal strike, but the whip's knife-head imbedded itself into the high ceiling above, the cable retracting and pulling the Nightingale just out of the weapon's reach. His new vantage point also allowed him to plant a backwards double-kick on the forehead of the axe mercenary, launching the burly Nord backward and himself toward the sword-wielding Bosmer in front of him.

A flying drop-kick from Ketar was barely dodged with a backward dive-roll, the Nightingale not letting up for a second as his whip danced with every twitch of his wrist. This merc was talented to keep avoiding or deflecting his strikes, to be sure, but Ketar was Dragonborn, hardened by over two years of fighting and trained from birth by the Blades. This soldier of fortune never had a shot. A high feint with the whip was yanked back with a jerk of the cable by his off-hand, the right snapping again in a long thrust that imbedded the ebony knife in the Elf's shoulder. That anchor point was used to yank the screaming merc over Ketar's shoulder and into his recovering comrade.

They went down in a heap of leather and flesh, Ketar retracting his whip and returning the knife to its slot as he strode past them, his now-unoccupied right hand charging a kinetic bolt and delivering it to the head of the Elf, which sent his forehead careening into that of the Nord below him. Ketar's slow, measured steps echoed softly throughout the manor, despite the muffled enchantment on his boots. Still, he wasn't worried. To be perfectly honest, he wanted Maven to know he was coming. After everything she'd done, everything she'd put him and the Guild through, it was very important that he enjoy this. And for once, he wanted the Black-Briar matron to experience exactly what she'd held all of Riften in the grip of for so many years: fear.

As Guildmaster, Ketar had been inside Maven's residence a few times before, each time learning more and more about its layout in preparation for the inevitable reckoning he'd bring down on her head. As such, he knew about Maven's secret room in the basement, the one she used to perform the Black Sacrament when she wanted someone dead. The Night Mother would often summon him when this occurred, but ultimately, as Listener, it was his decision whether or not he'd task the Dark Brotherhood to carry out the mission. Ever since putting the plan in motion to topple Maven, he'd selectively tuned out her requests in an effort to throw her even further off her game.

After all, if everything she used to rely on suddenly stopped working, she was that much more likely to panic.

Apart from the ritual chamber, however, Ketar also knew Maven kept a secret exit in her basement that led out through the city cistern, the other end of which Serana should currently have been watching if she stuck to the plan. The moment he came to the door leading to the basement, he knew it'd be locked and wasted no time trying the handle. Instead, he used both hands to charge and release a powerful kinetic bolt that shattered the door inward and permitted him access to the descending staircase. His body glided down the steps like liquid darkness, the dim light of the basement sconces illuminating a tall, burly Nord man with sleeveless steel armor and Imperial-made bracers and greaves.

And a wickedly serrated Orcish dagger in his right hand.

Ketar stopped short at the sight of his taller adversary, tilting his head slightly as he took in a breath. "Out of respect for your brother Dirge, I'm going to give you one chance to surrender."

The Nord sneered. "Do you have any idea who you're messin' with? Maven Black-Briar is the most powerful woman in the Rift, and she hand-picked me to be her bodyguard." He nodded toward the stairs. "Those idiots outside may have been easy pickings, but I won't be."

"I know. I'll probably be forced to kill you if we come to blows. That's why I want you to surrender."

His eyes flashed with defiant fire. "Maul doesn't surrender to anyone."

Ketar sighed hard, fists clenching at his sides. "So be it."

They faced off in silence as they paced around the room, Ketar's hand dipping to his thigh and snatching up the hilt of his Nightingale Blade, a flick of his thumb deploying it fully and a slow twirl of it cutting the air with an audible whoosh. His other hand drifted to his side, gripping the pommel of the weapon as he came to a stop, blade pointed down and away, on the side of his body opposite Maul, out of his sight. The Nord shifted his knife to an underhanded grip, bracing his left palm against his forearm and readying himself. Ketar's stance widened slightly, the displaced dust beneath him shifting and swirling through the stale basement air as they both stood stock-still.

Without warning or even preliminary tension, Maul's body lunged forward with lightning speed, a horizontal slash coming for Ketar's neck as he just stood there and waited. The moment Maul's feet left the ground in a short leap, Ketar dropped to a crouch and pivoted his hips to the left, bringing his sword to bear and pushing the pommel forward with his off-hand as the orichalcum dagger passed just over his head. A pronounced shing split the air of the room as metal was rent and pierced, a quiet spattering noise following immediately after as blood stained the far side of the storeroom. Maul's heavily armored body slumped over Ketar's shoulder as he choked on his own blood, the Nightingale easily lifting him up and laying him over a flat crate nearby as he slowly slid his sword from the Nord's gut.

A gentle tug relieved Maul of his weapon, which was laid on another crate as its owner gasped for breath, eyes wide in shock and fear.

"I gave you a choice," Ketar said simply, voice grating through his mask.

Maul didn't even have enough strength to respond as he breathed his last, his eyes closed a moment later by Ketar's gloved hand. A series of quiet clicks sounded through the room as the Nightingale Blade retracted, its hilt replaced on Ketar's hip as he took off toward the escape tunnel.

…

Serana had to admit, this cloak-and-dagger business was a great deal more enjoyable than open fighting, made especially so by the fact that she was able to utilize her vampire speed and agility for something other than direct confrontation. Melting into the shadows had always been a favorite pastime of hers, ever since the first days of her parents'…spirited arguments. She would hide in the darkest crevices of Castle Volkihar, and when Valerica or Harkon came to look for her, she would count how long it took them to find her.

She got a lot better at it when their arguments turned into fights.

So, needless to say, sneaking up on a crazed Nord matriarch already half out of her mind with terror was little more than child's play. Dealing with her two remaining bodyguards was as simple as dropping down behind them and tossing them both in the bay, considering how much metal armor they were wearing. Maven's head snapped around the moment she saw her guards go flying, eyes immediately locking with Serana's glowing ones and widening even further. Serana had to smile. It had been a long time since she'd seen that look on anyone's face and been happy about it. Well…perhaps not that long, considering how many of her father's lieutenants she'd struck down.

The effect was made especially delicious by the fact that Serana was wearing a mask and armor that were apparently appropriated from the Dark Brotherhood, a visage Maven would no doubt recognize considering her extensive dealings with the organization. Over the months that they'd planned this not-so-little operation, Serana had become privy to Maven Black-Briar's many crimes, and grown to truly hate this woman. So, seeing that element of realization and betrayal blossoming in the matriarch's countenance was absolutely intoxicating. The next words out of her mouth were equally so.

"You…but…I don't understand. I've paid you well, every time, and we—"

Serana's hand shot out and grabbed Maven by the collar, lifting her off the pier for effect. "We are done with each other. The Brotherhood has fallen under…new management, and as such, our Listener has deemed you no longer necessary."

Maven snarled. "Then get it over with already. I have no time or patience for grandstanding."

She yanked the other woman closer, so they were almost nose-to-mask. "I don't care. You will be dealt with as the Listener declares, and at present, your blood is worth far less to him than your life."

Maven stared at her for a few moments as her meaning sunk in, then broke out into laughter. "You fool. You mean he actually plans on turning me in?" Another laugh. "Good luck with that. I own the Jarl and every guard in this city." She smiled viciously. "I am the law."

Serana's head cocked slightly. "Here, perhaps. But this city is not the only one you've sinned against."

A cold dread entered Maven's eyes as she started to put the pieces together.

"And besides, we wouldn't presume to deny your staunchest adversary the satisfaction of bringing you down herself."

The matriarch bared her teeth. "You dare—"

Serana backhanded her before she could utter another word, then brought her hand back for a forward slap. Two more repetitions of this later, and Maven was hanging half-conscious in Serana's grip, her lower lip split open and various bruises already forming around her face. Maven's right eye and half-swollen left eye timidly met Serana's gaze a moment after she stopped.

Sera smirked behind her mask, eyes flashing with predatory glee. "You were saying?"

Maven gulped and shut up after that.

…

Ketar wasn't winded by the time he reached the end of the manor's escape tunnel, which was surprising given how intricate and lengthy it was. Still, when he reached the exit, he was pleasantly unsurprised to see Serana standing at the other end with a restrained Maven, who looked a little worse for wear but overall intact. The two guards in the river struggling to stay afloat, on the other hand, well…suffice to say Ketar mercifully cast them lines with which to pull themselves to safety, then escorted Serana onto Maven's boat and shoved off. Instead of taking her to safety, this ship would be her one-way ticket to a Whiterun jail cell.

Ketar touched the Nightingale amulet on his chest, whose jewel glowed dimly. "Nightingales, reroute to rendezvous."

"You got it, lad."

"Want us to bring Mjoll?"

"Please do," he replied. "This is her victory, after all." He waited a moment before speaking again. "How are the guards?"

Brynjolf answered. "Stiff, sore, some with serious injuries but nothing too major. All are gonna have wicked headaches come morning, but no fatalities."

Ketar smirked. "Not even from Lydia?"

He chuckled. "She restrained herself, as per your orders."

"What about your end?" Karliah asked in concern.

Ketar's smile faded. "Maul didn't make it out."

Silence occupied the other end of the link for a while as Maven's eyes widened at the news. Ketar waved for Serana to get her out of earshot.

"Dirge isn't going to be happy about that," Brynjolf said finally.

Ketar's upper lip twitched. "Well I've never been particularly happy with him either, so I guess we'll both have to live with disappointment." He could feel the silence on the other side and sighed. "Look, I didn't have a choice. He wasn't going to stop and knowing his skills, he would've forced me to kill him or be killed at some point. I just cut out the middleman…and his spine. He died quickly."

"…that's not going to matter to—"

"I don't care," he snapped. "Dirge and his brother were murderous cutthroats, exactly the kind of people we're trying to weed out. If he doesn't like the way I do things, he can take it up with me, and if we come to blows, he'll share his brother's fate."

"Then how does that make you any different?" asked Karliah.

Ketar frowned. "The difference is that I gave him a choice, to walk away peacefully, without threat of reprisal. Maven never gave anyone that deal."

"Except Mjoll just now."

He smirked nastily. "Karliah, you and I both know she never would've honored that deal. I would've gotten a summons from the Night Mother and another contract I'd have had to ignore."

The Dunmer sighed. "I suppose you're right, but still…this was supposed to be a bloodless takeover."

"I know. I'm the one who made the plan, remember?" Ketar frowned deeply. "Look, I'm not particularly happy about what I did, but it's done, and considering the kind of person Maul was, I can't say I'm sorry about it. It's one life versus the dozens, maybe hundreds of lives Maven has ruined. If killing a single sociopathic mercenary is the price to bring her down, I pay it gladly. Given no other choice, you would've done the same. And we did…with Mercer."

Brynjolf sighed. "Fair enough, lad. See you in a few."

Ketar felt the Nightingale amulet's power dim to an inactive state, then made his way toward the bow of the ship, where Maven and Serana were sitting on opposite sides of the vessel. The Black-Briar matriarch was staring daggers at the black water, only the creak of Ketar's boots on the ship's planks grabbing her attention.

In lieu of being able to cross her arms due to her ties, Maven knitted her fingers and laid her hands in her lap as she glared up at Ketar. "So…what now, Listener?"

Ketar's head cocked slightly, eyes narrowing behind his mask. "You tell me. A woman like you, smart, powerful, connected…you've undoubtedly planned a contingency for exactly this outcome." He seated himself next to Serana and steepled his fingers as he leaned forward. "What's your next play?"

Maven smirked. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

He chuckled darkly. "Oh, I most certainly would." Silence overtook the boat for a while. "But let's keep things fair. Information for information, if you will." He waved at the open water. "Right now, we're on our way to Heartwood Mill, where a few friends of mine will be meeting us, one of whom you're intimately familiar with."

She snarled. "Mjoll."

He clapped softly. "Got it in one. Altogether, we're going to serve as an escort all the way to Whiterun, where you'll be put on trial and imprisoned without question for planning a major theft of the Hold's resources."

Maven smirked and cast him a haughty look. "Even if you manage to get me there, that trial will never happen. My reach extends far beyond just the Rift; I have friends everywhere."

"I know. I enlisted a few of them to make tonight happen."

Her expression flattened.

"You have been a very naughty woman, Maven, and a great many people have noticed that. Your ruthless tendencies put off many of your allies from the start. All I had to do was convince them I had the power to bring you down, and they followed suit with quite a bit of zeal."

Her upper lip started twitching. "The Empire will never stand to see me incarcerated."

"The Empire has no jurisdiction in the local affairs of the Holds, and they know it. So does Jarl Balgruuf, who is, shall we say…displeased with your actions. Any action on their part to free you will be seen as an encroachment on local authority, and should Balgruuf make a stink about it, news of that will reach General Tullius—who will immediately silence anyone corrupt enough to attempt to interfere. Not because he himself is unsullied, of course, no…because as the Empire's point man here in Skyrim, he answers directly to the new Emperor—who I hear is quite the straight arrow compared to his predecessors.

"So…" Ketar smiled malevolently behind his mask, "to put things in simple terms, you stepped on too many toes, you bought the farm, your goose is cooked…you're screwed." He shrugged. "I figure Mjoll will be happy to recount a detailed list of your many sins, but since I've wanted to do this almost as long as her…I figured I'd take the honor of first blood."

Maven's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Who are you?"

Ketar felt Serana stiffen at his side as his lips twitched with a mixture of a smile and a snarl. "Oh…" he chuckled darkly, "you have…no idea how much I want to answer that question. But as powerful as I am, I'm not foolish enough to tell you my true name. The Dark Brotherhood may not answer your call anymore, but there are many hired blades who would. Suffice to say, I'm someone you pissed off. Which," he shrugged, "admittedly, doesn't narrow things down any considering how long your list of enemies is." He crossed his arms and leaned back. "But that's all you're getting."

Maven snorted derisively and averted her gaze, her eyes blazing with fire as they approached Heartwood Mill on their left, several familiar figures ashore. Ketar gave Serana a nod as she guided the boat to the shoreline, and together they anchored it to a nearby pier as Mjoll and Lydia climbed aboard, the latter still wearing her cowl. Mjoll and Maven came face-to-face, the animosity between them clear as day even in the darkness of twilight.

The face-painted Nord woman scowled at Maven. "I've been waiting a long time for this. Hope you enjoyed all those years sitting on your high chair, Black-Briar, because by dawn's end, I'm going to drag you into Dragonsreach by your over-starched collar."

Maven's eyes narrowed aggressively. "We shall see."

Two midnight-black horses, one riderless, galloped up alongside the Nightingales currently standing on the dock, Ketar and Serana joining them a moment later as the rider dismounted and strode toward the ship.

"Nazir," Ketar greeted, grasping the other man's forearm.

"Listener," he returned with a glance at the ship's occupants. "You weren't kidding."

He sighed. "Afraid not. You and Lydia are going to be on guard duty, and not just from external threats."

"We're keeping those two from killing each other on the way." Nazir smirked. "A strange job for an assassin."

"On the contrary, you're the only one who might be able to incapacitate Mjoll without doing permanent damage. Well, you and Lydia together."

Nazir waved at the horses. "Your mounts, as requested."

Ketar nodded his thanks as he approached one of the black horses, its red eyes tinged with an otherworldly glow. He affectionately ran his hand over its mane. "Hello, Shadowmere. It's been some time."

Nearby, Serana mounted up on Stormbreaker's back and exchanged a look and nod with Ketar. The Nightingales likewise found their own mounts and cantered off into the distance, presumably to locations unknown, but in actuality to follow the boat somewhere out of sight. They watched as Nazir climbed onto the boat with Maven and Mjoll still glaring at each other—from opposite ends of the vessel, thanks to Lydia. The housecarl gave her master one last look before he nodded to her, and they shoved off to coast down the river.

…

As soon as the vessel was out of sight, Serana pulled the mask and cowl off her face and turned toward Ketar.

"I have to admit," she said, "it was…fun, playing a part. Assassin wouldn't be my profession of choice, but considering no one actually died…"

"The reputation that comes with that armor tends to do most of the work." Ketar smirked. "And your eyes probably didn't hurt either."

Sera grinned. "I think those unnerved her more than the mask."

She tossed her hair and ran her fingers through it to work out the tangles caused by bunching it up in the cowl. The action drew Ketar's attention, as expected. Not even his Nightingale mask could hide it.

She smirked. "I can feel you staring."

"Is that a complaint?"

Sera tossed him a grin. "What do you think?"

She could almost see him smiling behind the mask as he shook his head and pulled on the reins of his horse—which smelled funny, even from this distance. "Let's go. We don't want to fall too far behind in case they actually do need our help."

Serana leaned down and gently patted Stormbreaker's neck as she pulled an apple from his saddle and fed it to him whole. He chomped the whole thing down in one go, making a slobbering mess of himself as Sera chuckled and brought him to a canter. She glanced over at Ketar to see his eyes locked onto the river, made almost black by the still somewhat-disconcerting full mask of his Nightingale armor. It was, well…darkly beautiful, to put it simply. A bit like he'd described her whenever she transformed into her full vampire lord form. Ketar never saw her as any less than who she was, but it still scared the living crap out of him on occasion.

Especially when…

He looked up to see Serana laying into Vyrthur with her claws, slashing away and rending his armor to bloodstained shreds of metal. By the time Ketar was able to stand, she'd nearly torn his entire torso to pieces. He lunged for the rail between him and the courtyard, eyes wide in near panic as she dug all ten of her claws into his chest.

"Serana!"

She bit her lower lip. Yep. Best not to revisit that.

"Something on your mind?"

Sera's head snapped toward Ketar, whose eyes were locked onto hers. "I—um…"

She bit her lip again. Damn him and that voice of his…I was never this visually expressive until—

"Sera?"

She blinked a few times and smiled over at him. "Just wondering…why keep the mask on? We're nowhere in sight of the boat."

Ketar blinked behind the hood and let out a small chuckle. "Honestly?" He reached for his hood. "I forgot I was wearing it."

Serana blinked as the mask receded into the Embrace, the shadows of twilight cast over his face like ebon curtains and—

She nearly facepalmed. Oh gods, I'm waxing poetic. I can't be going senile this young. According to Mother, I still have another couple of centuries.

Well, whatever the case, Ketar's features were…at this point, freaking gorgeous would be putting things mildly. Add to that the fact that she hadn't fed in a couple of nights and they'd been so busy planning that the only alone time they had together was when he passed out and she joined him—

"Nirn to Serana."

Another hard blink. "Sorry, spaced out there for a second."

Ketar arched an eyebrow. "Yeah. I hadn't noticed."

Her eyes rolled. "All right, point taken." She smirked. "Smartass."

He grinned. "Maybe, but you know you love it."

"What, your ass? Oh yeah, definitely."

A sharp, expected cough answered her first. "Well…good to know."

Sera threw him a grin that was all teeth and fangs. Ultimately, it didn't matter how expressive he made her, or got her to open up. If she could keep doing that to him—meaning a sowing, watering, and reaping of a gigantic ripe tomato all in the space of about five seconds—it was totally worth it.

…

They both fell silent after Serana's little quip, silently following as Maven's distant rearguard, with Brynjolf and Karliah serving as the vanguard. It wasn't for lack of conversation topics either. The knowledge of the escapades Ketar got into with his Blades guardians when he was a kid alone opened up a whole new world of hilarity and warm moments. Serana, on the other hand, well…she didn't like to talk about her past much. He'd tried to get her to open up multiple times, and to a degree, she had, but there was only so much she was willing to discuss. Too much pain, she said; nothing really worth reminiscing on.

A part of him had wanted to press, but he knew what she meant all too well. There was no way in hell he wanted to discuss his time as a vampire either. Well…he had, but not eagerly. It was just something they'd have to work on together. Healing, as they'd discovered, was infinitely more effective when two were working at it. Well, except for—

…

"Are you sure this is gonna work?"

A derisive snort. "Of course. I'm the Arch-Mage of Winterhold, Sera."

"I'm just saying, this potion smells a bit off. Maybe if we added a little—"

"Serana, do you trust me?"

"Of course, but this isn't about me right now."

They stared at each other briefly before looking back down to the massively nauseated and hungover Jarl Balgruuf, who'd fallen ill after a very long night of celebrating the solstice. He'd protested when Irileth, his housecarl, insisted on summoning the court wizard for something to help him. His Nord ego didn't permit him to admit he hadn't been able to hold his liquor. Nevertheless, once Farengar appeared, the Jarl had allowed himself to be poked and prodded and examined, whereupon the mage had prescribed a mild herbal remedy. Unfortunately, it backfired and only got worse from there, even when Restoration magic was put in play.

Thus, how the couple that was quickly becoming the talk of the town ended up in Dragonsreach, standing over Balgruuf's half-conscious, groaning body. Speaking of headaches, there had only been talk because of the incessant blabbermouth of the perpetually drunk Torvar. And maybe the rest of the Companions had had something to do with it too. About two months back, after defeating Serana's deranged father and returning Auriel's Bow to its guardian, Ketar made the mistake of inviting Brynjolf and Lydia to Jorrvaskr for a drink to celebrate the Jarl coming onboard with their plan against Maven. And, of course, because they never seemed to go anywhere alone, Ketar brought Serana along.

And a few people noticed.

Well, more like everyone, really. Still, he supposed it could've turned out worse. Though, admittedly, not by much. Especially considering Aela had had waaaay too much to drink…

"Hello? Kay!"

He blinked hard and met Serana's questioning gaze as his mind returned to the present. "Sorry, what?"

She sighed and gave the potion another sniff. "I don't think this is gonna work. At least, not the way we want."

Ketar sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Sera, don't you think you're being a little—"

"Think about it, Kay. Magic, herbs, nothing has made a difference so far. That, and I've seen these symptoms before."

"Yeah, so have I, every day after a party at Jorrvaskr, when the Companions drag themselves out of bed."

Her head shook. "Not the hangover. The hangover's incidental. Or, rather, coincidental."

He frowned. "What then?"

Serana glanced around and, making sure they were alone, pricked her index finger with a fang, then sent a few drops of her blood into a nearby tankard, then filled it partway with watered wine, dilute enough not to exacerbate the hangover.

Ketar's eyes went wide. "Sera, what are you doing?"

"Relax. This small of an amount isn't enough to turn him, just to give him a small taste of my regeneration."

He snorted. "If that's the route you're planning to go, you might as well just give him my blood."

Serana frowned and shook her head. "It wouldn't take as thoroughly as mine. Vampire blood is designed to be compatible with mortal bodies."

"So is dragon blood, or I wouldn't be here."

"Touché, but the advantages I get from your blood work because vampires take on the traits of whatever they feed on. Human bodies aren't designed for that. If anything, you'd tickle whatever it is he's feeling. And besides, are you immune to food poisoning?"

He blinked. "What?! Someone poisoned the Jarl?"

Sera sighed. "More likely, he just ate something that didn't agree with him and attributed his nausea to everything he drank last night. The bad news is, the toxin's had all night to ferment and fester in his digestive tract."

Ketar arched an eyebrow. "And the good news?"

She smirked. "His pride as a mead-chugging Nord can remain intact."

…

Balgruuf knew what she was. The moment his eyes opened and locked on hers, Ketar was sure of it. Still, he'd drank from the cup and recovered relatively quickly. Even made a quip about needing more to help cure future hangovers, at which Ketar bristled a bit. Balgruuf took the hint. That was one thing he'd always loved about the Jarl. Well, there were a lot of things, really. He was levelheaded, stubborn for the right things, and knew better than to get himself embroiled in the twisted world of politics, especially at this turbulent point in time. In the two months since Harkon's death, Ketar had received word from both Imperials and Stormcloaks about the status of their agreement.

From the wording of the letters alone, he could tell both sides were hungry for blood and highly agitated at the time it had taken for Ketar to fulfill his end. Still, the Imperials seemed even more impatient, and he'd had to wonder whether or not that was because of a certain foreign Elvish hand applying pressure. Either way, he knew he couldn't delay for too much longer, and truth be told, he didn't want to. If there was ever a time he felt ready to face Alduin, it was now. Surrounded by friends and family, enveloped in love, with something to live for. A great many people believed that when given nothing to lose, all restraints release and you become stronger.

Ketar didn't subscribe to that.

On the contrary, when he had felt he had nothing to lose, nothing left to live for, he walked into every fight expecting—and in a way hoping—to die. He wasn't afraid of death, and as a result reveled in its presence, flirted with it over and over and over again. When he looked back on those days, Ketar could only shudder and shake his head to remind himself of his life now. He'd been playing with fire every single day back then, and unlike the sun, it could still burn him. Now, looking back at that person made him feel strange, as if he were out of his own body looking in.

And he hated him.

Ketar had felt self-hatred before. A lot. Especially then. But, in retrospect, his perspective at the time was skewed and off-base. The truth was, back then he didn't have a true basis for what, for who he was supposed to be. It was all work, work, work because that was all he'd known. And sure, he'd had friends, but with the loss of his childhood guardians, and the betrayal of bastards like Mercer Frey…to say he'd been extremely embittered was a major understatement.

The vampirism was just the icing on the cake.

Even now, just thinking about it made him want to scream and club his younger self over the head. It must've showed, because before he knew it, a smaller form leapt into his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck, warm eyes staring back at him in concern. Without a single word passing between them, Ketar felt a sting and tears leap to his eyes. His heart ached and arms left the reins to curl around her shoulders. His cheek laid against the side of her head, her long raven hair curled into a bun to prevent it from falling out of her cowl. He nuzzled the skin at the nape of her neck and tightened his arms around her. Not a single word was exchanged, but that embrace communicated so much more than he could ever put into words. A few moments in, he got the feeling that went both ways.

Shadowmere, surprisingly, wasn't making a stink about her hitching a ride on its back. He'd thought for the longest time that the horse (or whatever the hell this thing really was) would buck off anyone not connected to the Dark Brotherhood. Maybe it was because Ketar was there that made it okay, or maybe it didn't feel threatened by its new passenger. Whatever the case, he was glad for the uninterrupted moment. It seemed like they'd been going absolutely non-stop for so long, and truth be told, they pretty much had. And it was all his fault. That was when it clicked for him, the reason why (maybe) Serana had been so leery about even discussing marriage.

They had been together for three months, spending pretty much every day living together, true, but at least one of those months had been spent performing relentless preparations for this very night. Serana probably felt neglected, or at the very least put on hold in favor of something else—which was in essence the same thing. And of course she hadn't told him, because she was sweet and kind and understanding and (in this particular case) they shared the same mission. But how much would it really have cost him to pay her a little more attention? A little time, probably, because there was no way he'd have risked botching Maven's takedown by cutting corners. Still, what was an extra week or two between operations?

With a deep, hard sigh into Serana's shoulder, Ketar realized that he had more than enough to pound himself over in the present to keep focusing on the past.

"Sera," he muttered into her shoulder.

A low chuckle rumbled through her. "Yes?"

He turned his head sideways, using her shoulder as a pillow as he frowned up at her. "I'm sorry we haven't spent more time together lately."

She blinked and tilted her head. "What do you mean? We've practically been inseparable."

Ketar winced. "What I mean is, time alone, or…even out with friends, doing something that isn't all…cloak and dagger."

Serana smiled. "To be honest, I've enjoyed our cloak and dagger pursuits. In fact…" She bit her lower lip, vainly restraining a grin.

He arched an eyebrow. "I'm almost afraid to ask, but…in fact what?"

"Well," she curled a strand of hair around her forefinger, "you see…there's this fantasy I used to have —"

Ketar coughed sharply, face burning up. "And I'm gonna stop you right there."

She gaped. "You didn't even know what I was gonna say!"

"Probably something that would make it…very difficult to focus the task at hand, to say the least."

Serana arched an eyebrow. "Oh?" She grinned wolfishly and raked her fingers through his hair as she curled both hands around his head and pressed her forehead to his. "I'd say you're already pretty distracted."

Ketar's jaw worked as he let out a hard sigh. "Fair point."

She tilted her head, appealingly exposing the delicate skin of her neck. "Besides, Brynjolf and Karliah will warn us if there's trouble."

"Assuming it comes from their direction."

"In which case Stormbreaker and this weird horse will detect it and warn us."

"Sera—mmph!"

Her lips left his with a quiet smack, a smoky look in her eyes as they met his. "You talk too much."

He could feel a familiar heat quickly building in his chest as he stared back at her. "And here I thought I kept the idle chatter to a min—mmm—"

She whispered her next words against his lips. "You keep on talking, I'm gonna have to shut you up again."

Ketar smirked as he looked into her eyes with a taunting gaze. "What if I want you to?"

Serana gave him a grin that was all teeth and silenced him again, longer this time, in a way that told him she was definitely missing their one-on-one time. They broke apart a few moments later, the vampire still grinning like a mischievous cat.

Ketar arched an eyebrow. "You look—way too happy with yourself."

Her fingers kept stroking the back of his head and neck in a way that was really starting to agitate him—in the best of ways. "Well it's not every day I get a catch like this." She kissed him for emphasis, pulling away as her eyes warmed. "You don't know how lucky I feel, Kay."

He smiled and gently laid his forehead against hers. "I don't know about that. I think I've got a pretty good idea." He smirked wryly. "And, well, considering what I'm wearing, I don't think luck's that much of a problem."

Serana laughed and held him close, pressing his chest flush against hers and gently nuzzling his ear. She whispered into it a moment later. "You know, I never did get finished telling you my fantasy."

His eyes widened, and he hesitated for a moment before replying, "Continue."

She leaned back and tossed her hair, grinning. "Okay, so…all this cloak and dagger work we've been doing got me thinking—"

"Mhm. Got you thinking."

"—about an old fantasy of mine." Serana smiled deviously. "Two spies from rival nations, constantly making plays against each other, dodging and thrusting in a game of cat and mouse. All the while, many of the times they meet, they're hairs away from killing each other, but can't due to circumstances, and because of that they're forced to spend time together."

Ketar's head cocked. "Oh? How would that work?"

She smiled and kept curling her hair around her finger as she stared into the distance. "Well, like a banquet with visiting dignitaries. One of them is tasked with assassinating the other's ambassador, and when the plan is thwarted, they meet in the grand ballroom. And right when they're about to throw down, the room floods with guests and music starts playing. And, well, they have to save face, right? So they start dancing together. And they turn it into a bit of a competition, and…" she bit her lower lip, one fang sticking out cutely, "over time, it grows into something more."

Ketar sat there transfixed, the horses amusing themselves with trying to bite apples out of each other's saddles as they trotted along.

"He's a professional, and doesn't have time for games, but she…she's the playful one, and always taunts and baits him into doing something stupid. Or tries to. Every time, he resists, and every time she ups her game. This goes on for a long time, years even, and…eventually he gets the upper hand." Sera pursed her lips. "And for a moment, she's terrified, because she knows how cold he can be, but still hopes that, somewhere under the surface, there's a heart that feels something." Her eyes turned to his mildly gobsmacked expression. "And it does." She pulled her hair from its bun and started twirling it into a braided ponytail. "Instead of using his dagger on her, he uses it to pin her cloak to a wall, keep her from slipping away like she did all those times.

"He reaches out, touches her hair, runs his fingertips down her neck…"

Her eyes slipped shut as she envisioned it, Ketar managing to snap himself out of his trance as he got an idea and reached out to ghost one gloved hand over the edge of her hair.

"…reaches under the clasp of her cloak and pushes it back to expose her lower neck, right where it meets her shoulder."

Ketar lowered his hand further and gently peeled back part of her Shrouded Armor, exposing that very spot.

"And he…he kisses her there. Hard. Hard enough to leave a mark that'll last for days."

He looped one arm around her midriff, pulling her back into him while the other kept her neck tilted to one side, leaving her exposed neck vulnerable. Ketar felt her breathing shudder as his lips touched her skin, his teeth and tongue following a moment later and softly scraping over her sensitive neck as she gently trembled in his arms. A sharp breath was inhaled when he started to suckle her skin, producing the exact effect she mentioned (well, not quite—he knew it would heal in a matter of hours, but that wasn't the point).

Serana's voice came out shakily as she struggled to finish. "And then he leaves her there, with his dagger and an easily concealable mark that no one will see but her."

Ketar felt her hand on the one holding her midriff and spread his fingers to allow her to lace hers between them, his nose buried in her sweet-smelling hair. "Does she ever see him again?"

He heard the smile in her voice when she replied, "Everywhere. He's a phantom in her mind, and no matter how hard she tries, she can't get him out. Truth be told, she doesn't want him out." She smiled wider as his lips ghosted over the pulse point on her neck. "Because for all her playfulness and flirting, he manages to disarm her in one move, and that…that's a beautiful thing she can never snuff out. So when he's wounded on a mission gone awry, and he finds himself at the mercy of his enemies—her countrymen—she stands in their way. For the first time, they find themselves on the same side, and they're absolutely unstoppable. The two of them find the humanity that both sides forgot existed in each other, and just like that, they can't let the war go on. So they use all their talents and contacts and resources to leverage both sides into sitting down, and by a miracle of the gods, they end the fighting for good. All because two people loved each other enough to ignore what they were…and see who they were."

Ketar's lips were trembling on her neck, eyes shut tightly and throat closed. He gulped his way past a lump as he pressed a tender kiss to her jaw and whispered, "I love you."

Serana's head turned with her body as she sat sidesaddle and wrapped her arms around his neck. "I love you too." Her fingers gently stroked his hair as she held his head against hers. "I love you so much."

Ketar's arms tightened around her smaller form, hands pressing into the tight muscles of her back as they held each other. A flicker of light in the edge of his peripheral vision drew his attention, and he looked right with Serana as a truly beautiful sight rose over the peaks of the Velothi Mountains: the rising sun, a constant, living reminder of Ketar's heritage—and the eyes of his most beloved. They both smiled widely as Serana turned away from the brightness of the portal and faced west, still holding each other tightly. It was the dawn of a new day.

And Ketar didn't want to miss a second of it.

DO NOT SKIP PAST THIS

If you haven't already (and this story isn't making sense as a result), go read Your Eyes at Sunset, the prequel story to this one.

AN: Okay, so, this is probably significant weakness on my part, releasing this chapter before I've got a full arc out, but you know what? It's taken me two weeks to get this far, and I was so excited by what I wrote that I said, "Screw it. It's not like I'm leaving them on a cliffhanger—this time."

So, welcome one and all to Children of Akatosh, my second entry in the Dragonborn Saga and the final chapter of Alduin's downfall. A lot will be happening in this story that didn't in the game, just like Your Eyes, so strap in and get ready for a very wild ride.

I don't want to give anything away, because I'm super excited, but I'll also be introducing some actual OCs (very peripherally) who will become very important later. If not in this story, then probably in the next one. Truth be told, I created this guys with one of my brothers years ago, like, before high school years ago. It started out as a mild foray into LARPing, and, well…I'll spare you the embarrassing details, but suffice to say that experience—which is still ongoing—is in great part why I became a storyteller.

So, when presented with the chance and arena to bring that story into one that people will actually read, my response? Oh HELL yes. Suffice to say, you'll know what I mean eventually.

Anyway, thanks for stopping by and reading this long-ass chapter (as usual). I hope you'll stick around for more, because I ain't stopping yet.

Oya vode.

- CDrake

Musical Inspirations:

Arrow (Season 5) – Back with a Vengeance/Meet Tobias Church: start-0:46—entering Black-Briar Manor/merc fight, 0:46-end—downstairs/confronting Maul

TES V: Skyrim – From Past to Present: flashback to Dragonsreach/musings over the past/Serana's fantasy/break of dawn

Image Credit: Miraak by Selann