"General Tullius, Jarl Ulfric, may I have a private word with you both?"

Both men turned towards the speaker. Even by Nord standards, he was tall and muscular. He kept his long dirty blonde hair tied in a thick ponytail. His bright blue eyes showed both kindness and thoughtfulness.

With a glance at each other as they collected their weapons just outside of the large conference room of High Hrothgar, they both assented; Tullius with a curt nod.

"Of course, Dragonborn." The Jarl agreed.

"Outside would probably be best," the Dragonborn replied leading them away. He walked them back to the main hall of the ancient castle and then out a set of doors that opened to a wide expanse behind the fortress.

It was blowing snow around them as the tall blonde Nord led the two leaders across the area and somewhat to the edge of the mountainside.

"First, I want to thank you for agreeing to these negotiations," he said turning to the two leaders. "I hope that this truce can lead to a peaceful and lasting end to the war. Do you feel the same?"

"I do," General Tullius spoke at once. The aging Imperial was clearly feeling the bitter cold, but did his best not to show it. "But my fear is that it will not last under its current conditions."

"Why is that?"

"We must both admit that this was hasty and we only agreed to it so that you could do what you need to do in order to resolve the problem of the dragons. The main underlying cause of this rebellion remains unresolved."

"And what do you see as the cause of this rebellion?" The tall Nord asked.

"The man who started it as still not been brought to justice for his crimes." Tullius nearly shouted, becoming annoyed by the line of questions.

"I see," the Dragonborn replied. "And you care nothing for his reasons?"

"I don't!" The elder snapped. "I'll admit that there are aspects of the Empire's agreement with the Dominion that are not ideal, but murder and sedition is not the way to solve them."

"Thank you, General," the taller Nord said with a nod before turning to the other. "And you Jarl Ulfric? Do you feel the same about the truce you just agreed to? Do you wish it to provide lasting peace for Skyrim?"

"I'm sorry, Dragonborn, but I do not," the Jarl replied. He was shorter than the Dragonborn and with dark hair that was unusual for a Nord. "I cannot accept the current terms as a permanent solution to woes and injustices that plague our homeland."

"What 'woes and injustices' are so insufferable?" The blonde questioned.

"There are many," the Ulfric Stormcloak replied, "but chief among them are the elven occupation and the ban on worship of our own gods." The Jarl's voice began to gain in volume. "They arrest our countrymen every day and take them for torture, some never to return. Many of our customs and traditions are made illegal simply because they do not understand them. Our kinsmen cannot suffer this oppression."

"And do our kinsmen actually feel the same as you?"

"Of course they do!"

"Do they? Then why do so many join the Imperial legion to fight your cause? It would seem that they do not feel the same oppression as you do."

"With all respect, Dragonborn," Ulfric said through gritted teeth, "What's the point of this conversation?"

"Agreed!" Tullius chimed in. "Why drag us out here in the snow and freezing cold just to re-state common knowledge?"

"I have a proposal for you both." The Dragonborn stated simply.

"Out with it then," the general cried visibly shivering now.

"Apologies, general, for keeping you out here so long," the big Nord replied. "I propose that you both allow the truce to last indefinitely. Once the dragon crisis is dealt with, a moot could be safely called with the truce still in effect. With the backing of you both, it shouldn't be much trouble to have me declared High King. Then I can lead a unified Skyrim back to the respect and prosperity it deserves."

Both General Tullius and Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak looked shocked.

"What about living under the thumb of the Dominion?" The Jarl questioned. "If nothing changes, I don't see a reason why you are any better than Elisif or Torygg."

"I would ask your patience," the taller Nord replied. "It would be something we would need to live with for a while, but eventually the time would come to cast the Dominion off of us."

"So agree to end this war so you can start another?" Tullius cried out, an incredulous tone to his voice. "But it would be worse. You'd have all of Skyrim rallying to your cause."

"War is not always the answer, General," the Dragonborn returned calmly. "Perhaps the White-Gold Concordat could be renegotiated at some future point."

"What!?" Ulfric breathed. "No! I shall not support you. I shall not support any one that would have peaceful dealings with those Oblivion-damned elves!"

"And you, General?"

"As long as Skyrim can remain steadfastly apart of the Empire and grievances can be settled peacefully, I can lend my voice to your cause at a moot," Tullius conceded. "I do not know how much worth it would be to your cause, but I would give you my support. It certainly would not guarantee your appointment, however."

"Thank you, General."

"NO!" Ulfric shouted in dismay. "I will not allow such blasphemous dealings to determine the fate of my homeland."

"My sorry, my Jarl," the Dragonborn said with regret tinged through his voice. "But I do this for the good of my country."

Without warning, the tall Nord punched the Jarl of Windhelm in the throat. In the moment that Ulfric Stormcloak was stunned, the Dragonborn drew a long dagger and thrust it into the Jarl's chest.

"Please believe that I wish I could have done this differently," the Dragonborn said quietly and sorrowfully, before he twisted the blade and yanked it back out. "May Sovengarde take you."

He laid Ulfric down gently as the Jarl choked on his own blood and the light fled from his eyes.

"Congratulations, General," the Dragonborn uttered. "I have just ended the war for you. We shall return to the troops and announce the Imperial victory and arrange for the moot once the dragon threat is ended."

Tullius stared at the other man aghast. "What is this!? You just murdered him."

The Dragonborn turned a stern look on the general and corrected him. "I have killed a declared enemy on a field of battle, General."

"You murdered him in cold blood. He was defenseless." Tullius argued.

"Were not Ulfric and I defenseless as you ordered our murder in Helgen?"

"That is different, it. . ."

"How, General?" The Nord nearly shouted. "How, exactly, is it different?"

"I was bringing a criminal to justice," Tullius shot back. "You killed him while all were housed under a banner of peace."

"And now he has finally been brought to justice." The Dragonborn said evenly. "I don't see why you would have such a problem with this."

"You have lost me, Dragonborn," Tullius spat the title as if it left a foul taste in his mouth. "I will not support such a two-faced and treacherous man as High King. If you'll excuse me."

Tullius turned and started to march back towards the castle. The Nord was behind him in an instant, clapping a hand over his mouth and dragging the same dagger used to kill Ulfric Stormcloak across his throat."

"Apologies, General," he hissed into Tullius' ear. "This is for the good of Skyrim."

The Dragonborn forced the blade deep into the general's neck as he withdrew it and then laid the Imperial down on the snow. He then turned to face the body of the former Jarl of Windhelm.

"FUS RO DAH!"

The force of the shout ripped through the air, thundering unfathomably loud. It hurled the body of Ulfric Stormcloak over the edge of the tallest mountain in Skyrim to be lost in some unreachable crag.

A moment later the doors to High Hrothgar burst open and soldiers from both the Stormcloaks and Imperial Legion spilled into the wide courtyard. They saw the Dragonborn kneeling over the body of General Tullius.

The Dragonborn looked up, the distress plain on his face. "I was too late," he wailed. "I was unable to save him."

"What happened?" A Nord woman in the full armor of an Imperial officer asked.

"I brought them out here to express my gratitude that they met and agreed to the truce," the Dragonborn explained. "After I turned to go back to High Hrothgar, their words became heated and Jarl Ulfric challenged General Tullius to a duel. The general refused and turned his back on Ulfric. The Jarl cut Tullius' throat before I could get back to help. In that moment, I reacted and shouted Jarl Ulfric away from the General. Alas, I used too much power and Ulfric was lost over the edge. I'm deeply sorry to you all. I was too late. It's my fault they are both dead."

The woman's mouth dropped open in shock and disbelief, but she quickly composed herself.

"Legion, hear this," she called out in a loud and authoritative voice that shook just a little. "I am taking command of the Imperial Army in Skyrim as acting General until word can be sent to the Imperial City and a replacement arrives. The truce remains as agreed upon by the late General Tullius and Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak. I need a contingent to gather the General's body and bring it with us to be honorably interred in Solitude. Depart."

"Stormcloaks," shouted another Nord who had emerged from the throng of Stormcloak soldiers. He had an impressive beard tied together with a ring beneath his chin and was wearing a bear pelt, the head of which was draped over his head. "We return to Windhelm to honor our fallen Jarl."

A few minutes later, only the Imperial officer was left. She came up to the Dragonborn and knelt down to him.

"I'm sure you did all you could," she said quietly. "I will have to go through with an investigation, but you have never shown yourself to be anything less than honorable and trustworthy. I'm sure it will be formality. You have my full support for anything you need Ysvar."

"Thank you, Rikke," the Dragonborn replied. "After seeing the treachery of Ulfric, I have decided to back the Empire if the war resumes. Hopefully it will not come to that."

"I don't think it's possible for this truce to last if Galmar is anything like Ulfric." General Rikke sighed.

"I think I have an idea how we can resolve the war and return peace to Skyrim," the Dragonborn said as he smiled up at her.

"Welcome home." The black door that served as the entrance to the Sanctuary of the assassin guild known as the Dark Brotherhood slid open. It depicted a large skull with a red right handprint set in its forehead. Below it sat a full skeleton, its back resting upright against the left hand side of the door with five smaller skulls resting at its feet. For such a macabre scene, Sable never thought it looked more welcoming or been so glad to see it.

The white-haired assassin was walking on her own now, though still slowly and gingerly if more complicated bodily maneuvers were required. Her eyes – once a pale silver-blue – were now fiery orbs of molten gold; a sure sign of vampirism. She was quite happy though despite the extremely grievous injuries she had suffered at the hands of the Daedric Prince, Boethiah. The end result had ended up being a personal encounter with Sithis himself and having become a vampire, which meant never having to die. Add in the fact that she had actually managed to kill Boethiah and make herself a living legend in the process, she felt things couldn't have been any better. Eventually there wouldn't be pain when she drew breath and she would recover all of her ambulatory abilities. Injuries healed. Power and glory was forever.

Thankfully the passageway that served as the entrance into the cave complex that was home to the Family did not have any stairs, but the incline down into the earth was enough to force Sable to take it at a much slower pace than she would normally. Gabriella, Babette and Sionis filed in after her, patiently accepting her gradual progress, all wanting to make sure to not push her beyond what she would be able to do.

A short time later they entered into a small open area in the network of caves. To their right, there were a series of shelves containing all manner of goods. Straight ahead was another shorter tunnel leading to compound proper of the Sanctuary. On the far side left hand wall of the cave sat a desk with a map of Skyrim laid out on it. The desk served as Astrid's place to attend to all of the Family's business and operations, but very oddly, she wasn't there. Sable wasn't sure she remembered there ever a time where she had returned from a job and not seen the Mistress of the Dark Brotherhood standing over that map.

"I'll go see if she's in the dining room," Babette offered and then looked to Gabriella, "Watch him." Her voice developed a hard edge to it. "He's not even supposed to be here."

Sionis stopped his gaping at everything and turned an annoyed glance at the child vampire. It quickly turned to a nervous one as she sent a withering glare back at him. The three women had argued quite extensively about taking the mage into the Sanctuary. Both Gabriella and Babette had profusely contended that he was not a member of the Dark Brotherhood and should not be allowed into their home. Sable had remained adamant that she would not return unless he would be admitted. In the end, the vampire and the Dark Elf had to relent in favor of ensuring their sister's recovery and well-being.

Before anyone could say anything, Babette was gone; down the tunnel leading further into the assassin's guild Sanctuary. A moment later, various commotions and footsteps were heard coming up to meet them. A Nord with long white hair and beard wearing black and sanguine leather armor stepped into the room. He was followed a moment later by an Argonian and then a Redguard. Initially, they all surged forward to speak with their white-haired sister, but a stern look from Gabriella – who stepped in front of Sable – stopped them short.

"What in Oblivion happened to you, tidbit?" The first man blurted.

"Back alive I see," the Redguard offered, his deep voice taking over the Nord's gravelly tones.

"Who iss he?" The Argonian asked, his reptilian eyes trained squarely on Sionis.

"Stand aside. All of you."

The order came from a female voice that was authoritative and yet smooth as silk. The small crowed parted and from among them emerged a tall blonde Nord. At first Astrid offered a relieved smile upon seeing Sable back alive, but it vanished – replaced by a murderous scowl – as soon as she noticed Sionis lingering in the background.

"What in Oblivion is he doing here?" She demanded. "Why is he not dead?"

"No one is killing him." Despite the evident pain from the still mending ribs, Sable's voice was authoritative.

Astrid settled her glare on the white-haired assassin. "You do not give orders here, sister."

"I'm sorry, mistress, but I won't allow any harm to come to him." The resolve in Sable's voice was unmistakable. "And if he is turned away, then I will go with him."

"Is that so?"

"Yes. As much as it would pain me to leave you all – the only family I've ever had – I will leave for his sake."

"And why is that?" Astrid questioned, partly annoyed at Sable's flaunting of her authority and partly genuinely curious as to what the answer would be.

"He has given me what I wanted most and . . ."

"He gave you a contract that you never should have accepted," Astrid fired at her protégé. "He gave you a contract that nearly got you killed."

"I am alive," Sable returned simply. "The contract was fulfilled."

"You're alive because of Babette's and my efforts to save you," Gabriella reminded her. "Had we not come along when we did, you would not be here talking to us now."

Sable turned to face her Dunmer friend. "I am alive because of Sithis. He willed my return from the Void. And was not Sionis there as well? If I am alive truly because of your efforts, then you must acknowledge him as well."

At the mention of Sithis, Babette rolled her eyes and Gabriella pinched the bridge of nose.

"Sable, we've talked about this before," the Dark Elf said, rebuking her friend. "Sithis doesn't speak to mortals. He speaks only to the Night Mother and she is gone. It wasn't Our Father you spoke to."

"Then how do you explain the vampirism taking hold so fast?" Sable implored. "Babette, didn't you say that it takes three days to run its course and turn someone?" The child vampire nodded. "And how long before I 'died' and came back?"

"A few minutes," Babette replied.

"So then, how did it work?" The white-haired assassin questioned the now quiet room. "How am I standing here as a vampire?"

"Your body was severely damaged and going into shock. It was working harder, faster than anything I've ever seen," Gabriella chimed in. "Perhaps it sped up the process of the Sanguinare Vampiris disease?"

Babette frowned. "I've never heard of such a thing," Babette said. "If a person dies before the disease can run its course, they just die. Though I've never seen circumstances as extreme as yours, Sable."

Astrid listened to the exchange among the three women. There were two things that Sable had said earlier that caught her attention. The first was that she said she fulfilled the contract and the other being her invoking the will of Sithis. While she had paid respect before, Sable had never seemed terribly devout to the Dread Father. Of their group, only Festus and Veezara seemed to hold any real veneration toward Sithis. However, Sable had just implied that she knew his will. The argument over her vampirism added an interesting wrinkle as well, but it was something to discuss another time; perhaps with Veezara and Festus as they seemed to know much more about Sithis than anyone else. But there was something else that Sable was holding back. She could tell by the younger woman's carefully chosen words and the certain way Sable always held herself when avoiding answering her mistress completely.

"Aside from that," Astrid burst in, ending – for the moment – the debate, "you haven't said everything. You haven't told me the real reason you would leave your Family if he was to be turned away."

A split-second of panic washed through Sable's eyes telling Astrid that she was correct in her suspicions of not getting a full answer.

"Why would you leave us for him?"

There was a moment of silent calculating on Sable's part before she gave up. This was her Family. They had accepted her and everything about her. Surely they would accept this. She had to stop trying to hide herself from them. They only saw her as an equal. There was no power to be gained by either her or them. Rather it was always shared. Perhaps old habits did not give up so easily.

"I love him," she answered quietly, but steadily.

Astrid's mouth fell open for a moment.

"I love him," Sable said again, "And he loves me. I can't – won't – bear to be parted from him. So, if you send him away, you will be sending me away as well. Surely you must understand Astrid," her voice was now tinged with pleading. "Could you stand to be separated from Arnbjorn? If he did something that would cause him to be outcast from the Family, would you not leave with him?"

"I . . ." Astrid started to reply, but stopped too stunned to form any response. What had this man done to cause such a response from Sable?

"Astrid, please?" Sable implored, "It would break my heart to have to leave the Family. Please don't make me."

For a moment, Astrid was furious that Sable would put it that way. She wouldn't be forced from the Dark Brotherhood. Her choosing Sionis over her Family would not be their fault. But then she saw the white hair of her husband standing off to the side and realized from where the younger Nord was speaking. If, for whatever reason, Arnbjorn was forced from the guild she would be as well. Whatever happened to him happened to her and what happened to her happened to him. She realized, then, that Sable had apparently made a similarly deep connection with the mage and that she really would be forcing Sable to leave if she attempted to separate them.

"Alright, he stays," Astrid relented, and then raised her voice to an authoritative tone when she saw the giddy smile forming on Sable's face, "He stays under the assumption that he will be joining our Family and swearing his loyalty to Sithis."

"Thank you, Astrid. Thank you so much." Sable beamed.

Astrid, though, thought it very interesting that a wave of distress passed over Sionis' face when she mentioned him joining their ranks. She pushed it aside, resolving to take it up with him in the near future. However, there was another question she wanted answered. She then quieted the crowd that was quickly becoming boisterous

"Before we all celebrate," she called out, "There is something else I need answered. You said you fulfilled the contract?"

"Yes," Sable confirmed.

"And the contract was for . . ." Astrid prompted

"Boethiah."

"Boethiah!?"

Sable nodded.

"The Daedric Prince of Plots."

Sable nodded again.

"A god. You fulfilled a contract on a god."

Sable nodded once more, her smile threatening to split her face in half.

"You do realize, my little overachiever, that you can't actually kill a Daedric Prince, right? Boethiah would just disintegrate and return to her realm of Oblivion."

"About that, mistress," Gabriella spoke up. "Boethiah did not return to Oblivion."

"What do you mean, Gabriella?"

"He didn't dissolve," Sionis chimed in, speaking for the first time. "Boethiah's body still lies on the mountaintop upon which his Sacellum is perched."

"What?" Astrid gasped, looking to Babette and Gabriella for confirmation.

"It's true!" Babette exclaimed excitedly. "We were camped there for days and Boethiah's dead body was still there when we left!"

Astrid's eyes went wide.

"Is it even possible?" she whispered.

"The contract wass bound to SSithiss," Veezara said with no small amount of reverence. "The Void conssumess all. Boethiah iss truly dead."

"Dear Sithis," Astrid breathed, turning an awestruck gaze upon her younger sibling.

A/N: And we're back! I hope the wait wasn't too long.

-E. K.