Journey's End

The Sanctuary does not remain quiet for very long. Sithis has seen fit to spare at least some of your family – there is still Babette, the immortal child, and Nazir, stalker of the sands. Cicero, with his manic, merry prattle keeps constant watch over the Night Mother in her engraved coffin, her presence a sure sign that despite the losses, the Brotherhood will endure. And recruits are beginning to populate the halls again, a new face almost every day. It's starting to feel like home.

And besides those, two others remain, as they always have - and, you suspect, always will, your companions through life, death, and life again.

So you join them on the frozen beach at Dawnstar - Lucien, contemplative, gazing out over the waves, ice and salt crunching beneath Shadowmere's hooves as she wanders contentedly nearby, cropping at the coarse tussocks of sea-grass.

Lucien half-turns at your approach, extending a hand in invitation, and your fingers entwine gladly with his.

It's halfway through Second Seed, and back in Cyrodiil the air will be growing milder by the day and the leaves turning golden-green with the first flush of spring. In your mind's eye you see the indigo morning glory bursting into bloom, twined around the carved columns of Skingrad and the Imperial City. In this part of the world the cracking sound of the great ice floes breaking up is the only indication of the turning season.

But standing beside Lucien, you inhale the frigid, briny air with satisfaction. You get used to the cold.

You move closer and rest your head on his shoulder, eyes closed, perfectly content.

"Listener," says Lucien huskily, savouring the word, and then: "There is no higher honor."

For once, you think, he's wrong.