Reman ran through the forest, not knowing the ponies' exact location. He could catch up with Arnbjorn later, and he wasn't particularly comfortable around the other members of the Dark Brotherhood. He didn't make it a habit to associate with undesirables, but, being a warrior by skill and a mercenary by trade, it was easy to find common ground with them. Being a werewolf didn't hurt in that regard, either. He looked around, turning his head in every direction he heard even a faint rustle. It wouldn't do to have Cicero finding whatever portal the ponies used to get to Nirn.

He kept at his pace as he saw wheel tracks leave the road. It appeared they were about six miles from Falkreath, just as Luna said. He slowed to a walk as he came across the carriage, empty and carefully unpacked. There were no signs of a struggle, and the horses were released, so they left willingly. Fluttershy was probably the reason the horses were gone; she didn't seem the type to abandon animals anywhere. A slight whistle hit his ears as a bolt slammed into the tree next to him.

“Why would even consider associating with those people?” Lynette asked as she stepped into view. Reman rolled his eyes, not really seeing the question. What he did was none of her concern anymore, not since their engagement was terminated due to his supposed death four years ago. “Assassins, Reman; you tossed yourself in with hired killers.”

“I seem to recall you being a werewolf hunter for some time.” The Imperial took a rather confrontational stance, only now seeing the crossbow his ex-fiancee still had at the ready. Part of his mind, however irrational, figured out that he could easily cover the distance between them and cut her down if she decided to use it. Just a habit he had developed over the years, one he admitted was terrible, but necessary. “Your lot did more to harm me than mine did you.”

“Reman, the driver is dead; don't you understand that?” She was pleading with him for some reason, and he had no idea why. She also ignored the statement about her time in the Silver Hand, much to his annoyance. He looked at her as one might a child who can't seem to grasp something simple.

“Right; the Dark Brotherhood killed him, but they had their reasons, just like us.” He scowled at her, though not out of anger at her personally, but the notion itself. He killed for gold, he even enjoyed it sometimes, but he always had a reason, always a justification for doing something he found so abhorrent. Like many in the world, he had blood on his hands, some stained in and some still dripping. “And do not claim innocence, because I know you'd have killed me that night last winter, just as surely as I would have killed you before I saw your face.”

“Arguing solves nothing.” Renoir dropped from his perch in a tree, looking none too pleased with the pair. To him, it was like hearing two children fuss at each other; a little boy who played a warrior-philosopher, and a girl who played the dutiful conscience. “In case the two of you forgot, we have a mission.”

“Belmont, this doesn't involve you.” Lynette looked at with a stare that could kill, if such a thing were possible.

“You're right, but what does concern me is the eight ponies we need to escort to their kingdom so we can help broker an alliance with the Empire.” Renoir was the more serious of the pair, mostly from experience. He wasn't exactly a no-nonsense kind of man, but he knew when things needed to be done, and had the ability to do so with a certain flair. “Not to mention one of the happens to be pregnant with the child of my best friend.”

“Would you three hurry? My sister would very much like us to return sometime today,” Luna called from beyond the fog, though it was likely she was only just out of sight. They had no idea how much she had heard, but they weren't exactly keeping their voices low. The others may or may not have been listening in as well, but it may have been best not to dwell on it. Reman, knowing he was being payed, started walking towards her voice.

“You're going to Cyrodiil, right?” Lynette asked, hurt by the sudden change in atmosphere. Right, that had been her mission, bringing Reman home so House Tullius could find a cure for his little secret. He nodded, knowing Celestia would need someone versed in Imperial culture and etiquette for her meeting and dinner with the Emperor. The meal wasn't mentioned, but it was one of the many things that went unspoken in such agreements. “Good, then I have a month to get to the Imperial City, and I'll drag you home after you get done buttering up the Emperor.”

“Go home to your mother; your punitive mission is complete.” Reman didn't bother turning to speak as he started to fade into the grey beyond the trees, and Renoir offered no comfort. When it came to them, the vampire would always choose his friend over a woman he knew for a couple of weeks. Lynette, knowing there was no help and no repairing a burned bridge while the flames still burned, turned and started for Falkreath. She wouldn't go home because her mother didn't need her anymore; she wasn't in need of any assistance.

“You handled that poorly.” Luna seemed to materialize from the mist, looking both mournful and disappointed. She knew the sort of stress he was under, but felt there was something she could do to remedy things. It wasn't her place to say anything beyond her simple criticism. Reman, despite how much he had matured since he crashed the Winter Solstice Festival, was still much the same man he had always been. Even under his guise or anger, there was a mass of guilt, regret for walking away a second time, pain for abandoning his own morals in an effort to survive.

“I know,” He sighed, fully understanding his mistakes. He couldn't exactly go back and chase Lynette down and make amends; there was a bit of resentment on both sides that was best left to settle for now. If she was really set on traveling to Cyrodiil, they could talk there. “In case you hadn't noticed, I'm not exactly great when it comes to interpersonal relationships.”

“You have friends, a lover, and a foal on the way, not to mention helping Equestria stay peaceful with the Empire.” Luna gave him a long look, taking in every detail she could about his expression. Imperials, when unhappy, seemed to be conditioned to stoicism, and he appear to be made of stone. The disguise for emotional pain was painfully obvious, and he looked as though he was in need of a good night's rest in a warm bed, and a hot meal. “Perhaps we should take a break and let you cool off first?”

“What happened to making it there today?” Reman asked as they slowed to a stop. He rested against a tree as Luna found a flat rock to sit on, though neither spoke for minutes. A shadow passed behind the Imperial, and it could have only been Renoir on is way to the portal to await the two.

“That can wait until you calm yourself.” It wouldn't do for him to be so moody in front of Celestia and who knew how many others. If he had been such a feature in the papers, his return would have at least one unseen onlooker. “You aren't usually like this.”

“I don't usually find out a friend's wife has been killed.” Arnbjron hadn't said as much, but he smelled like smoke, and Astrid was nowhere to be seen. The Sanctuary, which he had never even seen, had been attacked, and they had suffered unknown casualties. “Oh, yeah, and I have your kingdom's safety resting on my back, Glade's pregnant, my father is hiding an illness from us, and I just turned away my oldest friend because of a little spat that could have been avoided.”

“You want to talk about it?” She asked, trying to smile. In reality, she was terrible at things like this, but trying almost never hurt. The corners of Reman's mouth turned slightly down, as though the very thought was ludicrous.

“I just did.” His words were plain, to the point, and completely incorrect. Imperials, at least in Luna's mind, were not well-versed in self-expression, and the nobles must have gotten the shortest end of the stick. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, almost like he was ready to go, but he stayed still. “Just give me a day or so to calm down, get everything straightened out.”

“These issues will take more time than that.”

“I know, but it's a start, at least.”

@#@#@#@#@#@#

The portal to Equestria was as welcoming as it had been weeks ago, when the eight first arrived in the alien country. The rain only accentuated the natural scents in the air, creating a brilliant bouquet of pine and wildflowers. Everypony seemed excited about returning home, though there were many reasons, each different, and every one of those had an equal and opposite anxiety. Renoir sat on a nearby boulder, keeping an eye on everything that happened below. His ashen hair was matted against his head and shoulders, but the chill didn't affect him.

Pinkie seemed to have shrugged off most of whatever in Oblivion Sheogorath had subjected her to, happily laughing and spinning on her hind legs as she danced with her alligator. The Wabbajack, arguably the worst-documented Daedric artifact in history, lay on a nearby bundle of soggy clothing, respectfully off the ground. Truthfully, Renoir had no idea if she knew keeping it off the ground was an act of respect, or if some compulsion kept her from desecrating it. Perhaps he should tell her soon.

Twilight was speed-reading through the notes she had compiled during the adventure, as though she actually needed every miniscule detail. She wouldn't be the one making sure Princess Celestia didn't make an ass of herself when meeting with the Emperor; that task belonged to Reman, and only Reman. Still, she seemed livelier than she had been since killing that bandit, so as long as she was recovering, it didn't matter how she did so. She looked up at Renoir and gave a small smile, which earned her one in kind, though his was difficult to see even up close.

Applejack, who had been perhaps the least-vocal of the ponies, simply sat on a log, munching away on a vegetable of some sort; she must have run out of apples at some point. There wasn't much to say, as she hadn't gone through any sort of emotional or physical change during her stay in Skyrim, or, at least not a visible one. Much the same could be said for the others, except, perhaps, Fluttershy, who seemed too frail to deal with he driver dying, yet she still seemed to be herself. Two of the Elements had definitely become new mares, but Glade and Luna were key points in everything.

Glade was a rather simple subject to cover; without her, most of this mess wouldn't have happened. One could argue she was Reman's only true attachment to Equestria, the only thing that kept him loyal enough to obey the princesses. Renoir's eyes narrowed a bit as he thought about it; he was being too negative about her. Glade was undeniably one of the few people Reman was ever happy to see, or, pony, as the case was. At least he was moving up in the world, moving on from the shame of self-exile.

Luna walked up the hill with Reman in tow, who seemed oddly chipper. Renoir could tell most of it was an act, but at least she seemed to have some sort of positive impact on the Imperial. Bad feelings had killed less-sensitive negotiations, so it was rather amazing for her to get Reman to think instead of act on instinct.

“Everypony, as soon as Reman dons his armor, we can head home,” She called out, drawing gaining what little attention she didn't already have. Renoir dropped from his perch and walked to the others, leaning against a tree when he came to a stop. The two men shared a look that, to outsiders, wouldn't have drawn attention, there was a brief message passed between them.

“Celestia wants me in armor?” Reman asked, curious about such a strange request. Celestia didn't seem the sort to want that; under normal circumstances, she would have requested the exact opposite.

“Actually, Reman, I thought it would look better than just showing up in whatever you happened to be wearing.” Luna smiled, looking to the Imperial for understanding. The Dwarven armor he had would look rather nice regardless of the weather in Canterlot. It wouldn't be a show of force; Reman had no intentions against the kingdom. However, it would look very, very impressive.

“I don't suppose one of you brought my armor up?” At Reman's question, Glade perked up, giving him a wolfish grin. Her wings beat once, and she used the boost to land next to him. She lightly jabbed a hoof in his thigh and chuckled.

“Nope; you're going to have to dress down at the carriage.” Luna did not look pleased with her teasing, and instead posed a wondrous idea.

“Then I'm certain you won't mind accompanying him, correct, Glade?"