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Chapter Text

     It was late afternoon by the time Jade and her companion had entered the gates of the large northern city of Solitude to grab some supplies. The shouts of merchants and mongers rang over the footsteps of potential patrons shuffling down the cobblestone streets. Despite the crisp chill of the air, Jade was delighted to be out on the freedom of her own personal quest after weeks of being holed up in a dank, musty sanctuary. As a Nord, it was in her blood to prefer the outdoors. If she wasn't on the move, she quickly became restless. Jade was the Dragonborn, damn it. She had more than earned her right to an adventure.

     Word had it of some strange activity from the Forsworn around Karthspire. Jade was always ready for a good fight, especially if rare treasure was involved. She knew that the area was just littered with those Dwarven ruins which were always good for finding some unique trinkets. She didn't care about history or antiques. She just knew that they were worth a nice fist full of septims.

     Capering gleefully beside her was Jade's odd companion, Cicero. Though a formerly well-respected member of the Dark Brotherhood assassins, he was dressed as an outdated court jester. His personality matched the look with random bouts of laughter and terrible out-of-context punchlines. The fool was mad, but he was useful. Highly skilled with a blade, his deadliness was only matched by his unwavering loyalty to the Brotherhood and all who served and respected it.

     Cicero made quite sure not to step on a crack between the cobblestones, humming something about breaking Mother's back. He was also joyous to be outside again. After spending nearly a decade in hiding, just being around other people and not having to fight for his life was invigorating.

     "I just need to grab a pickaxe and some gloves," Jade muttered glancing back at the fool, "Please, don't draw attention to us..."

     Cicero chirped before slowing to a casual walk, glancing over at her. With odd navy blue hair and accessible cleavage, perhaps she was the one who should worry about drawing attention. Men passing by made no attempt to hide the fact that they had noticed.

     Solitude was bustling with more Imperial soldiers than Cicero had seen since his arrival in Skyrim months before. It felt strange. He would possibly never return to his home in Cyrodiil, but this place felt very much more familiar than the other Nordic cities he'd visited. Perhaps he had gotten too used to the brutal nature of the Nords of this region; He had all but forgotten about the clean refined nature of his race. Though, Cicero was never one to follow the ideals of the Imperial Empire or worship their deities and leaders. If anything, he felt betrayed by his people. He felt abandoned and judged like an unwanted red-headed stepchild. Leave the war effort to the meatheads. Cicero lived to serve the Dark Brotherhood.

     Jade slowed to a stop outside of the "Bits and Pieces" general store and turned to face the fool. Still distracted by the activity of the town, Cicero almost walked right into her before realizing she stopped. He took a step back and raised his eyebrows awaiting her command.

     "Stay out here," Jade said in an authoritative tone, "I've got some business to take care of really quick," she motioned to a thieves' guild etching on the wall near the lower half of the door frame. Being raised in the guild, it wasn't uncommon for her to casually utilize their teachings.

     "Of course, my Listener!" Cicero nodded, "Cicero will keep watch from here!" His tone was a bit more enthusiastic than necessary. Jade sighed feeling as if his extreme personality and strangely outdated garb would draw too much attention from the guards. She bit her lip and squinted her eyes in thought before reaching into her coin purse and pulling out five gold.

     "Here, " she said as she placed it in his hand, "Go to the market over there and buy yourself a sweet roll or something. We won't be near another town until we reach Markarth in a few days."

     Jade hoped that the little errand would keep him distracted long enough to buy her a few minutes to steal what she needed from the general store without incident. Cicero clasped his hands together around the gold pieces and smiled widely.

     "Thank you! Yes! Thank you, sweet Listener! You are too good to humble Cicero!" he gasped and bowed his head. With almost no hesitation, Cicero hurried off toward the market plaza around the side of the building, leaving the Dragonborn to her business. He scanned over the stands looking for the pastry of choice, yet only saw fresh produce and fish. His excitement faded as he stepped over to one of the vegetable stands and handed the merchant 2 gold in exchange for a carrot. It wasn't the sweet roll he had his heart set on, but he'd enjoy the fresh snack nonetheless.

     Turning to head back toward the general goods store, Cicero stumbled as he collided with something small. Agile from his years of assassin training, he caught his balance and stepped to the side quickly, glancing down to see a small child. She looked about five or so; her face was smeared with either dirt or chocolate. By her tattered blue dress, she appeared to be from a rather poor family. Her eyes were full of wonder as she stared up at him: the man dressed in the funny jester motley.

     "Are you a real clown?" the girl asked in a tiny voice. She swayed back and forth while twisting the bottom of her dress with both hands.

     Cicero hesitated after being caught off guard by the question by such a little person. Yet, almost like it came completely naturally, a smile spread across his face again and he threw his arms out to the sides, bowing theatrically.

   "Why, yes, little lady! Cicero is a merry man! A jester of joy! A fool of hearts!" he cheered.

     The girl squealed with delight before turning to wave at two other children hiding in the shadows of a stall nearby. When they saw her gesture, an older boy and another girl around her age ran over. The two wore equally ragged attire with scraped-up hands and knees.

     "Do you know any tricks?" the older boy asked without skipping a beat. All of the sudden attention had made Cicero's heart race. Not just any attention, but positive attention. He quickly placed the carrot into his pocket and clapped his gloved hands together, nodding with much enthusiasm.

     "Have you ever been to a backward show?" Cicero chanted as he removed the remaining gold from his coin pouch, "So many pay to see such amusement! Only kings benefit from the free!" He began to juggle the coins while skipping around his small audience. The children gasped as if never seeing such skill. The youngest girl giggled with glee.

     "-but here today, you will see, a backward show, just watch me!" the jester sang and then through sleight of hand, the coins seemed to vanish when they hit his palms. "Where is the gold?"

     The amused expressions of the children suddenly turned to surprise. Cicero pretended to be confused and pulled out his pockets as they stared in awe. He spun around, raising his arms helplessly, and shrugged. The two youngest children ran closer to him and began pulling at his ratty outfit, searching for a hidden pocket.

     "THERE!" Cicero gasped, pointing over dramatically at the older boy who had held his distance, "The gold had left my view! Disappeared, out of the blue!" he stepped over and poked the boy in the chest with his fingertip, "But have you ever seen a show, a backward show, that in the end-" he flicked the boy's chin causing him to flinch. He blinked a few times to see that the jester suddenly had a gold coin between his index and middle fingers, "...would pay YOU?"

     The children exploded with cheers and laughter. Cicero continued to hold the coin out to the boy, insistently. The girls clapped and gathered closer to see. A few seconds passed as the boy stared at the coin. Finally, Cicero reached down to place the coin in his hand. The girls suddenly became even more excited as he turned and flipped his other hand open revealing the other missing coins.

     "Share," Cicero said holding the coins out for the girls to take, "Buy something sweet and unhealthy to share with your friends."

     The girls timidly took one coin each and smiled up at the generous merry man, their eyes sparkling with joy. The older boy nodded to him, seeming a bit more skeptical as he backed away, perhaps worried that this strange man would want the gold back. Cicero bowed and retrieved his carrot, snapping a bite into it as he headed back toward the general store.

     "What was that about?" Jade asked, already waiting for him at the edge of the market with her arms crossed. It seemed as if she had seen the whole act.

     "Happiness, " Cicero replied as he chewed, "Everyone deserves some joy."

     "Joy? You're an assassin. You kill people for a living," she snorted, hiking a supply bag up over her shoulder, a pickaxe sticking out the top.

     "Did you see their eyes?" he asked as if not even hearing her, "Such admiration and attention! They loved me!"

     "They were street children. They love gold." Jade said in a snarky manner as she turned to make her way to the front gate.

     Cicero sighed. It was hard to be positive around Jade. She seemed to always find the negative side to everything with the clear intention of discrediting anything enjoyable. Well, anything she didn't enjoy, anyway.

     "It's fun to make others laugh. It brings me joy. Cicero loves joy..." he muttered.

     "And that makes you a hypocrite," Jade laughed walking a bit faster than him, "You can't tell me that you like to bring joy to others when you kill people. How do you know that those kids aren't orphans because of a contract on their parents?"

     Cicero stopped walking; his arms stiff at his sides. He could tell that there was really no getting through to this woman. Not everything was black and white.

     "For someone called, the Listener, you sure don't listen very well," he grumbled.

     Jade stopped dead in her tracks and turned to face him, "Excuse me, little man?" It was almost unheard of for the fool to speak so disrespectfully to her.

     "I don't think you understand." Cicero cleared his throat, "I don't kill because I just want to hurt people. The joy Cicero gets from killing is through Sithis. Serving the Brotherhood makes him happy-"

     "Oh, give me a break," Jade rolled her eyes, "You like to kill because killing is fun. Don't try to tell me that you only do it for specific reasons. You're just not that deep, kiddo. I see the way you light up with every stab."

     "You don't know me, Listener!" he huffed, "The pain and sacrifice! Rejection! You don't know what it is like to need that attention. The love! Everyone loves you! Everyone loves the Dragonborn. The Listener! The leader of the Thieves Guild! Just look at you!" he gestured to her dramatically.

     Jade put her hands on her hips in an attempt to mirror his outrageous attitude. She'd never seen Cicero act out like this before. He had a tendency to be over-emotional at random moments, but now it actually seemed like he was trying to start something. She curled her lip, bracing herself for the baseless insults to follow.

     "You are beautiful and powerful," he said in a shaky tone, "Your age is ambiguous, and you carry yourself with such grace. A voluptuous bosom and slender frame... broad hips and strong thighs that could tear a man in two-"

     "Is there a point to this? Or are you trying to get me to sleep with you?" Jade scoffed, though honestly enjoying the compliments.

     "Everyone admires the Dragonborn. Even the Night Mother chose you to be the Listener... YOU! OVER ME! I've sacrificed my life- my sanity to serve... yet she chose you! You have the Black-Briars under your thumb... you play the empire like a fiddle and the Stormcloaks fear you! Dragons fall from the sky for you! DRAGONS!" Cicero shouted.

     Jade flinched and moved closer to him. She was delighted by the praise but worried about making a scene, "What are you getting at, already?" she whispered.

     "I'm none of these things. Cicero is nothing."

     "You're the Keeper."

     "I'm the Keeper..." his shoulders slumped, and his gaze drifted, "I grew up in Bruma alone. I didn't know my father. My mother... she-"

     "By Sithis," Jade grunted and turned to walk away, "Don't start."

     Cicero quickly gathered himself and followed.

     "But Cicero does remember the other children. The street children like me. They didn't like Cicero either. I was the strange ginger boy with the crazy mom and no one to play with. When I was old enough, I joined the Dark Brotherhood... they became my family. They embraced Cicero! They too were abandoned and rejected. The Night Mother became my mother and Sithis my father. I do everything... EVERYTHING I can to honor them," Cicero felt himself having to take wider and wider strides to keep up with Jade who appeared to be trying desperately to separate herself from the conversation. The irony was not lost on him.

     "They gave me what I needed most, but I had to sacrifice so much in return," he lowered his tone as they arrived at the gate.

     Jade tightened her grip on the backpack and smiled at the guards. Cicero watched as they looked her over. He knew this too well. They knew she was a thief. They'd seen her before. Yet, just as expected, the guards waved her through with no issues. Cicero paused to watch Jade freely strut through the gates with her stolen goods. The guards tilted their heads as she went... watch her ass.

     "Eyes front, gentlemen!" Cicero barked as he fumbled to catch up to her. He made an attempt to block their view before attempting to finish his rant. Jade tried her best to hasten her pace down the stone path, hoping that he'd take the hint.

     The noise of the city faded behind them, giving way to the calming sounds of the wilderness... only to be ruined by Cicero's nasally voice.

     "Cicero had a love once," he continued, "Oh, yes. Cicero is capable of loving another just as much as anyone! And not the same love he has for Mother and the Listener, no."

     Jade rolled the bag of supplies off her shoulder and tossed it to him, hoping to interrupt his banter. He caught it without losing his thought and continued.

     "But I sacrificed it. She was a distraction. Cicero was very young and didn't want to disappoint the Brotherhood. They took me in, and I owed them. I wasn't going to throw it all away for the chance to..." he hesitated, "...for love. I hurt her. She's gone now. They all are. My entire family. Dead. Purified. Cicero is the only one left. Cicero is ALWAYS the only one left."

     "What are you babbling about?" Jade finally responded, "The Dawnstar Sanctuary may have a small following at the moment, but it's growing. We get new initiates all of the time."

     "Until when? When will it happen again? When will Cicero be alone again? I've been alone for most of my life... So let me have this. Can't a fool feel loved and accepted for just a moment? Those children loved Cicero, if only for a minute. And Cicero needs love too... I suppose that's hard for you to understand because everything is handed to Jade," Cicero's voice deepened, "Love comes easily to ones like you."

     "I don't love anyone," she snapped.

     "You love yourself," he replied in a strangely normal voice. He almost sounded like a different person altogether. Jade stopped and stared off at the tree line ahead. Her expression was difficult to read.

     "...and?" she mumbled.

     "To be normal, though?" Cicero said calmly as he stood beside her, staring off in the same direction.

   "What's normal? I fight dragons. I assassinate emperors. I mingle with vampires. I don't think I want normal. Why would you?"

     "Just to see what it's like," he sighed, "To have your own home. Keeping friends and taking a wife. Starting an actual family-"

     Jade broke the moment with a burst of laughter. It almost sounded forced.

     "Mr. Cicero?" she cackled in a mocking tone, "I can't see that. If you could even FIND a female desperate enough to marry you and foolish enough to bear your offspring, you'd be a horrible father! Look at you! You're a middle-aged man in a clown outfit who oils a corpse for a living! You're a walking joke!" she took a few steps back to get a better look at him.

     His faded makeshift motley was crudely stitched together, covered in dried blood and dirt and who knows what else. His long unkempt red hair was filthy and slicked back beneath a tattered donkey-eared jester's cap. He was just a mess both physically and emotionally.

     "Get your shit together. There'll be no more of this emotional madman banter if you are to accompany me on my quests anymore. Got it?" Jade commanded with a condescending smirk.

     "...Yes, Listener," Cicero replied, his stoogish yet still depressive tone returning.

     The sun had lowered since they had first arrived in Solitude, and night travel was dangerous, even for the Dragonborn. Plans to set up a camp upriver fell into conversation between them as they continued down the path toward the Reach. Cicero said very little, just the way Jade liked it.

>>>New characters added to the Character Guide Book: Jade and Cicero

Chapter Text

     Jade wiped her sweaty forehead with the back of her arm as she stumbled down the ancient stone steps high above the river. The metallic taste of blood coated her mouth causing her to cringe and spit. She always enjoyed a good fight... so long as the other person was taking all the damage.

     "Stupid Forsworn!" Cicero shouted out of breath, "They think they're so scary." He stumbled down the steps behind her, brandishing a sort of metal lever with Dwarven etchings. It was spattered with blood.

     Jade paused at the edge of the crumbling steps and glanced back at the ruins around them bathed in the gloomy glow of the sunset. She adjusted the heavy pack on her shoulder; full of ancient Dwarven treasures and oddities.

     "They act like this is all theirs," Jade exhaled, "Finders-keepers, I say. They don't even know what that stuff does."

     "Do we?" Cicero asked, examining the looted lever.

     "Who cares? That museum nerd in Markarth will pay a lot for this trash. I'm not entirely sure what the Forsworn wanted with this place but I claim it in the name of the Dragonborn now. This crossing is officially cleared," Jade gloated and continued down the steep path of steps as droplets of rain began to fall. "Let's make camp. My joints are killing me."

     Cicero opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by the sound of rocks crumbling from a stone cliff high above them. He stopped and listened. Not seeming to notice, Jade proceeded to descend toward the river below. Suddenly, the cliffside burst open and a large plume of steam billowed out with a loud roar. Cicero flinched and ducked down to avoid debris.

     Everything rapidly felt humid as the steam poured into the frigid evening air. Jade stared up at the venting as if she had expected it. The Dwarven ruins were full of steam-powered technology and she and her companion were not very delicate while rummaging through it. The metal piece Cicero carried was pried off a gate as a makeshift weapon during a scuffle. It would have been no surprise to her if that had something to do with this.

     Distracted by the steam, Jade didn't hear the lone Forsworn approach until it was too late. He landed in the middle of her back. They tumbled down the steps, both losing bearings until they crashed to a stop near an old pillar. Jade abandoned her heavy supply pack and rolled out of the way to try and catch the wind that had been knocked out of her.

     Seeing this, Cicero immediately sprinted down the grassy cliff between them. The light rain had already made the turf slippery, causing him to slide much faster than he had anticipated. Jade staggered to her feet and unsheathed her dagger, turning to her attacker who was already bearing down with his sword. Still disoriented, she flinched, barely blocking the swing in time with the edge of her blade.

     Cicero used his sliding momentum to leap from the grassy slope and land right on top of the Forsworn attacker. In Jade's confusion, she nearly hit her loyal companion with her dagger before he managed to pin the man to the ground. The Forsworn raised his sword to block Cicero's attack, but it was too late. The jester's ebony dagger plunged into his chest up to the hilt. Blood bubbled from man's mouth as his wide eyes stared into space. Perched upon him, Cicero held the dagger firm with both hands, watching intensely as his victim slowly bled out.

     "Cicero showed you," he grunted, turning the blade ever so slightly. As he listened to the death raddle and watched the color drain from his face, Cicero noticed that the man's skin was badly burned all over. Fresh burns; perhaps from the steam release.

     The rain began to pick up as the steam pressure seemed to subside from the break above them. Jade quietly retrieved her bag. Cicero finally slid his dagger out slowly and leaned back, glaring down his nose at his victim. Jade scowled, recalling their conversation the other day about killing and joy.

     'What a liar,' she thought as the cold rain dripped down her hair, 'He quite literally lives for this sort of thing. Look at the little pervert... he's probably getting off on it.'

     Cicero stood up and wiped the blood from his dagger onto his sleeve. He glanced around looking for the Dwarven lever he was holding before the distraction. Jade didn't thank him. She never did.

     "Make a fire," she said flatly, not even acknowledging what had just happened. She pointed down across the river below, "Near those rocks should provide some cover."

     "Of course, my powerful Listener!" Cicero said sheathing his dagger. He spotted the piece of metal in the grass and quickly scooped it up, "You should eat something, my lady. You seem weak and... distracted."

     "Weak!?" Jade barked at him, "What makes you say I'm weak?"

     "Oh! No! Cicero just meant that the Listener seemed a bit off when that letch attacked... perhaps supper would refresh your reflexes?"

     Jade glowered. He was right, though she would never admit it. She instead pretended to not hear him and continued climbing down to the riverbank. Without hesitation, she walked right into the moving water and began wading across. Cicero watched until she reached the other side before following into the icy current.

     "Just get the wood," Jade instructed and dug a small firepit with her foot, "I have a fire scroll you can use to light it in my pack."

     "Very wise, Listener!" Cicero chirped as he joined her on the bank. He was freezing and the rain wasn't going to help matters. The faster he gathered the wood, the sooner they could get warm. Perhaps he could even hunt some small game for dinner while he was at it. Cicero began climbing the embankment to quickly gather some wood when his eyes shifted back to Jade. She was casually removing articles of her leather armor.

     "Well, it's already raining," she mumbled, though loud enough for him to clearly hear, "I might as well get clean." Jade's green eyes lifted to see him staring at her. Predictable. She smirked wickedly and turned away. In the heavy shadows of the evening, she strolled up the riverside away from the firepit. Cicero watched her curvaceous silhouette removing the last of her armor before he turned away and shook his head. Typical. He knew she was just trying to get a reaction.

     With the darkness finally rolling in, Cicero knew that if he was going to find something to eat, he had to do it fast. He took note of Jade's relative location even though she was nothing more than a silhouette now, just to... keep an eye on her. For safety... Cicero cleared his throat and climbed the rocks above camp with his bow in hand.

     A little while passed and Cicero returned to the camp dragging a dead fox on an arrow and hauling a bundle of branches under his arm. He dropped the tinder beside the firepit and began arranging it. As he worked, he casually glanced up in the direction he had last seen Jade. It was too dark to see clearly.

     Jade's voice called from the darkness of the river, reminding him of the fire scroll in her pack. He glanced up and squinted at her outline before going to it. He wasn't sure how useful it would be now that even the contents of the bag were soaked from the rain.

     "You need a bath!" Jade called. Cicero tried to ignore her as he attempted to get the fire lit. She had a point, but he knew what she was trying to do. It was a trap.

     'Don't fall for it,' he thought while removing his wet shoes and hat, 'She's a succubus. She's just trying to seduce you and suck you in and...' his mind went blank.

     "Oh, don't be a wet blanket!" Jade taunted as she swam closer, "What are you afraid of?"

     "Cicero is not afraid, kind Listener. I've caught a fox and I will have it skinned and cooked for you-"

     "You're filthy. Come bathe with me. I promise that there are no slaughter fish and I won't bite either." she watched his features illuminate in the dark as the fire grew.

     "Dear sweet Jade," he replied with a frustrated smile, refusing to look in her direction, "Cicero is clean from the rain. Not to fret..."

     Jade frowned and slapped the surface of the water. How dare he ignore her? She knew she could have any man she wanted... or in this case, didn't want. He seemed to be the only one to ever reject her advances. Why? Was he into men? Was he testing his boundaries? It bordered on insulting, in her opinion.

     Cicero finally glanced back over his shoulder trying to be casual about it. Jade noticed. Alright... he was looking. But perhaps he's too stupid to understand what to do. The rain finally stopped as Jade waded toward camp making no effort to cover herself. The light from the crackling fire cast a sleek shine upon her pale skin as she emerged from the river with a confident stride. Cicero looked away and kept his head down, feeling annoyed. He butchered the fox meat a bit too much before placing it on a rock in the fire.

     "Uh- Are you not cold, ma'am?" Cicero stammered as he watched the flames.

     "Oh, I'm freezing," Jade said snidely, "My clothes are all wet and the fire is too small to-"

     In reality, it wasn't her first time skinny dipping in the waters of Skyrim. Jade's Nord blood enjoyed the chill and she felt more alive and focused than she had in days. Cicero sighed and began removing his tattered jester tunic. Without standing up, he held the tunic out to her with his head turned away.

     "Please. It may not be completely dry, but it's warmer than the night air," he said in a flat tone while stoking the fire with his other hand.

     Jade huffed and snatched the clothes from him. She stood and glared at him while digging her fingernails into the fabric. Why is he acting like this? She didn't even find him attractive. If anything, he was repulsive and childlike. But to flat-out ignore her? He was a fool. Quite literally a fool. Did he not realize what he could see if he would just turn around? Other men would kill for a chance...

     "Thank you..." she grumbled as she put the tunic on, purposefully leaving it unbuttoned.

     Did she just say, 'thank you'? Cicero squinted. He used his dagger to flip the pieces of meat over in the fire when Jade knelt beside him... very close. She leaned into his ear, parting her lips, breathing softly. Cicero held perfectly still as if being confronted by a predator. He closed his eyes as she used her fingertips to tuck his wet hair behind his ear.

     "Why won't you look at me?" she whispered, her warm breath on his earlobe. Cicero felt a chill run up his spine.

     "Cicero is the Listener's servant, ma'am. I'm here to help. You are my friend and-"

     Jade leaned away as he spoke. Friend? No, no, no, no, no. This fool truly was mad. It was no longer a matter of rejection from someone unworthy to even be getting such attention from her. It was now about establishing dominance. She was the one in charge. She was the one who called the shots here.

     Jade lifted her hand and placed it around the base of his throat. Cicero's eyes shot open. She suddenly shoved him onto his back and climbed up on him, pinning him down. She glared down with her bright green eyes, reflecting the light from the fire. Cicero didn't put up a fight. He laid there calmly, his annoyed gaze finally meeting hers.

     "Now you are looking...." she smiled smugly, her bare chest exposed from the tunic.

     "Out of respect for you, I chose to look away," Cicero began to speak in that eerily normal tone. Jade grabbed his jaw to shut him up. She then leaned down to touch her lips to his but was once again rejected as he turned away.

     "What is your problem, you clown?" she hissed jerking his jaw back to face her, "Are you stupid? No man has ever been so disrespectful of my intentions! I should slit your throat and leave you for the wolves."

     Cicero's complacent expression shifted to anger. He grabbed her wrists firmly. Jade clenched her teeth and pulled at his grip. She quickly realized that he was a lot stronger than he looked. Jade twisted her wrists around and grunted while never losing eye contact. What was this? A game? Her grimace shifted into a mischievous grin.

     Reversing direction, she went for a kiss again causing him to turn away, as predicted. She then pressed her lip against his neck gradually biting into his skin. Cicero took a deep breath and closed his eyes tightly. She shifted her hips down and leaned to his ear once again as she slowly pressed her body against him.

     "Now, you will be the Listener, so listen well," She whispered, "When I say jump, you say, 'how high?'. When I say kill, you say, 'whom?'. When I say fuck me, you say, 'how hard?'. You will not call yourself my servant and disrespect me like this. Understand?"

     Cicero stared up at the bright colorful aurora shifting in the night sky above. The fire crackled and the soft hush of the river filled the silence.

     "Yes, Listener," he finally replied.

     A smile spread across Jade's face and she sat up proudly. He knew his place now. He was just a small man with nothing to prove. Jade couldn't let his insubordination fester any longer. She needed to make a point if she was ever going to lead a successful Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary. Instill fear. Keep them in line.

     "But I will not lay with you," Cicero sighed. He sat up suddenly and effortlessly rolled her off of him, making it seem like he could have done that all along. He returned to the fire to tend to the cooking as if nothing had happened.

     "What!?" Jade snapped. She picked herself up and pulled the tunic closed over her bare chest as if suddenly feeling violated, "You obviously want to! You can't deny that stiffness in your pants! You do as I say, or by Sithis' name, I'll cut you up like that fox-"

     "You want aggression. Cicero can't help you with that," he said quietly.

     Jade curled her lip, pulling her knees up and hugging them defensively. "Aggression? I'm showing you that 'love' you so desire! Is it an Imperial thing that your kind act so sensitive when it comes to lovemaking?"

     "You have had men throw you around your entire life," Cicero removed the meat from the fire and placed it on a rock to cool. "You don't know what love is. This is not love. You want acceptance. Cicero and the Listener are not so different after all."

     "I want some dick, if that's what you mean-" Jade scoffed with a smirk, finally relaxing her posture.

     Cicero chuckled as he used the edge of his dagger to continue cutting up the cooked meat. "You think love is letting a man pin you down and have his way with you? Is this a barbaric Nord thing, or is it just what you are used to?"

     "I-" Jade was taken off guard by such an intrusive and insensitive question, "What is it to you what gets me off!?"

     "Well, you did order me to sleep with you a moment ago," he said flatly.

     "That's not what I meant, and you know it!"

     "Listen, Listener... Cicero may be delightfully mad and a fool... but that doesn't mean he's stupid or naive. You don't outlive the entire Brotherhood by being an idiot," he sighed and stabbed his blade into a piece of meat, "Dinner is served."

     Cicero stood up and sauntered over to her, leaning down and holding out the dagger with the meat on the end. Jade slowly took it and skeptically looked up at him at the same time.

     "Humble Cicero lives to serve," he said in a warm tone and turned to head toward the river. Jade examined the meat on the end of the blade before sniffing it. It smelled pretty good... She turned to see where he went. Only his patched pair of pants laying on the rocks nearby. He was nowhere in sight. Jade quickly sat up and scanned the darkness. She heard the water shifting.

     ...Clever little fool. She popped her lips and slouched back down before taking a bite of the meat. This just made things more interesting. A power struggle had just begun... and Jade never loses a good fight.

Chapter Text

     Jade shivered as she opened her eyes and squinted up at the clear morning sky. The crackle of the campfire blended with the sound of the river flowing nearby. She was still wrapped in Cicero's red tunic but was now completely dry. The sound of shifting wood caught her attention. She sat up slowly and turned to see Cicero standing next to the fire, using his boot to scrape sand onto the flames. Without even looking back at her, he smiled.

     "Good morning, Listener! It's a nice clear day for travel!" he chirped.

     Jade arched her back and began to stretch but quickly fumbled to hold the tunic closed once she remembered that she was bare underneath. Something about the bold daylight and the occurrence from the night before made her feel less secure about exposing herself.

     "You kept the fire alive all night?" she asked in an impressed tone, "Did you sleep?"

     "Cicero had to pay extra mind to the fire since the wood was wet," he replied flatly, tossing the charred logs with his foot, "I can sleep when we get to Markarth. We can afford a room at an inn with some of the return on the treasures." His voice shifted to his typical gleeful tone.

     Cicero continued to smother the remaining flames with the dirt using the pointed toe of his jester boot while eating a handful of what appeared to be wild berries still on the stem. Jade assumed he knew a thing or two about botany if he was confidently eating a strange fruit he found in a region he was unfamiliar with. That, or he was going to be quite sick later. She chose not to ask. That was his problem.

     Jade stood up and brushed the dirt from her knees. The leather armor that she had washed in the river was laid out flat on the rocks above the camp in the sun. She didn't remember spreading them out so cleanly. Her eyes darted back over to Cicero who was picking his teeth with the berry stem. She moved over to the rock face and gathered up her leathers, using the deep shadow from the large rock for privacy as she got dressed.

     When the wood stopped smoking, Cicero chucked the stem into the pile and yawned. His head throbbed from lack of sleep, but this was nothing new. He was very used to going several days without rest: mostly keeping watch for his own safety. He had found many tricks to keep his mind alert. Humming and making up songs and rhymes. Constantly moving, sometimes resulting in dancing. Purposely eating vegetation that would make him mildly ill. No one can fall asleep feeling like they are going to throw up or shit themselves. He never complained. It could be worse. These were just simple and silly tricks to stay alive because a sleepy adventurer is a dead adventurer.

     Noting that Jade was busy, Cicero casually sauntered away toward the riverside. He reached down to adjust the front of his pants-

     "Are you peeing!?" Jade shouted from camp. She stepped out from behind the rock and threw his tunic toward him.

     "Quite so, Listener," Cicero replied, taking in the surroundings bathed in the crisp morning sun. He whistled a random tune, rocking back and forth on his heels. Jade scoffed in disgust. How dare he? Right in front of her, first thing in the morning!

     "Do women not also urinate from time to time?" he chuckled as he finished his business and flipped the front of his pants back up.

     "Of course, we do. But we have more modesty about it and-" Jade paused when she noticed him draw his blade from his belt. His attention appeared to be on something across the river. She remained still. What did he see? Calling out to ask could prove to be too dangerous. She decided to wait until he made a move.

     "What's that...?" he asked as he shifted forward into the water current, not concerned with getting his boots wet. The water seemed remarkably warm; a lot warmer than it was last night... especially for the northern climate. Jade slowly made her way toward the river and scanned the area he was walking to. Then she saw it. It looked like a pale body floating along the opposite shoreline near the steps to the ruins.

     "Just a body," she sighed, "Probably one of the Forsworn from last night. I'm sure he got caught in the current and pulled up this way. Let's go." Jade turned back to camp to begin collecting their gear, "Markarth is about three hours southwest of the river. I'd really like to get this stuff sold."

     Cicero wasn't so convinced. Something looked off about the body. The warm waters seemed to have built up a subtle cloud of steam around it. He approached with caution and used the side of his blade to lift the shoulder.

     "Elven female," he noted, "She's bleeding."

     "Yeah, that's what happens when you get killed," Jade scoffed as she swung her pack over her shoulder and began wading into the water, "Forsworn never seem to learn."

     "She's not Forsworn."

     "Eh, maybe one of their victims? Sabrecat attack? Troll attack? I don't care," Jade mumbled and slapped Cicero on the arm as she continued to the other side, "Let's move."

     Cicero used his foot to flip the body over completely. The elf's flesh was pale and covered in both scars and fresh cuts. She was clothed in a ragged burlap skirt and top which were barely stitched together. Ice crystals sparkled in her short curly white hair... ice crystals? Once again, the temperature of the river came into question.

     "Cicero has never seen an elf like this," he mumbled as he re-sheathed his dagger, "She's way too pale to be a Bosmer, features too round to be Dunmer, much too small to be Altmer..."

     "She's a deadmer!" Jade snickered, pleased with her morbid joke. He didn't laugh. Not even a smirk. "Oh, come on. Your jokes aren't any better."

     Cicero finally reached out and touched the elf's skin. It was ice cold which, in that climate, made perfect sense for a waterlogged corpse... but the river was unnaturally warm at that moment. Could it have been related to the steam break from the Dwarven ruins the night before? 

     The scars across the girl's body looked to have been inflicted by a weapon of sorts, but the fresh cuts, which were starting to bleed more rapidly into the water, appeared to be from a fall or a natural series of injuries.

     "What are you, 'detective Cicero' now?" Jade scoffed, "Are you gonna solve the murder of the elven whore?"

     "Whore?" Cicero glanced up at her.

     "She's dressed like a discount streetwalker. Is that why you're so interested? She's your type?" Jade mocked.

     Cicero still wasn't amused. He was distracted by all the contradicting clues.

     "She seems rather young," he replied and knelt down to hold her head above the water to get a better look at her face. It was then that he noticed the brass collar clamped around her throat.

     "OH! You go for the young ones, then. I learn more about you every day," Jade grunted.

     Cicero smirked snidely back at her, "Oh, yes, Listener. Cicero prefers females his junior! Perhaps that's why he sees no interest in the Listener!"

     Jade's cocky grin slammed into a grimace, "Listen here, you little shit! You are clearly older than I am! And you just made yourself sound like a pervert! Though, I would have assumed you were into the older types. Little Cicero is on the prowl for a MILF. A night MILF, perchance?"

     "Don't be ridiculous!" he snapped, clearly offended, "Cicero loves the Night Mother as his own mother! To insinuate anything else is just vile!"

     "Momma's boy," she huffed.

     "Harlot."

     "Mother fucker."

     "Backstreet strumpet."

     "Closet pervert."

     "Diseased courtesan!" Cicero shouted, releasing the elf and standing to face this disrespectful woman.

     Seeing that she finally got his attention, Jade took a step toward him, "40-year-old virgin!"

     "Tramp! Floozy! You have ridden so many men that your purse is weaker than a horker's anus after eating fermented fish gut!"

     Jade fought the urge to smirk. She opened her mouth to respond but her jaw locked as she tried to keep from laughing. His face was so serious, but he was damn good at this game of insults.

     "When you were born," Jade managed to speak, "-your mother didn't know whether to nurse you or bury you in a compost pile!" She leaned forward intently, bracing herself in this delightful game of wit.

     Cicero was still not smiling. It was almost as if he really was bothered by her insults. Yet he called himself a jester? This should be his wheelhouse!

     He twitched slightly, clenching his fists, "Your alteration skill must be 100 with the ridiculous size of your chest-" he paused mid-sentence as the body in the water beside him started to move. His attention was quickly diverted back to the elf, "She's alive..."

     Jade, feeling disappointed with not being able to continue the invigorating spat, groaned and put her hands on her hips. "What do you want me to do about it? I have a heavy pack of treasures I'd like to get to the city," she complained, "If you are so obsessed with this elf, then you are on your own."

     Cicero leaned down again to lift the girl's head from the water when he noticed the same type of brass buckles around her wrists; broken chains attached.

     "She's a slave," he said, looking her over, the injuries making sense now, "But what's she doing out here and why is she so cold?"

     Cicero carefully scooped the girl into his arms. She didn't weigh much. Her skin was like ice against his and her limbs felt stiff and unmoving. He waded back to the camp and gently laid her on the sand in the sunlight to get a better look at her. Jade didn't follow.

     "I'm going," she called, "If you want to play hero, go right ahead. She's just some random elven slave that someone didn't want anymore. You should just do us all a favor and send her to Sithis." Jade patted the Blade of Woe strapped to her hip.

     Cicero shook his head, "Maybe this means something?" He pulled at her eyelids, noticing that her left eye was a deep shade of blue while her right was a bright ruby red. "Can you hear me, young miss?" he asked, patting her cheek.

     Jade threw her hands in the air, "FINE! You can adopt her! Name her and she's yours! But she had better be potty trained!" she shouted, not sounding entirely like she was joking.

     The elven girl's purple lips quivered as her jaw chattered. She seemed unable to open her eyes on her own. Cicero instinctively lifted and held her against his body for warmth. He glanced over at Jade.

     "Cicero will help her," he stated in a warm tone, "It's going to be okay."

     "You can carry her then. To Markarth!" Jade snapped her fingers impatiently, pointing to the west. Daylight was burning and she didn't want to argue anymore.

     "She needs care. We should take her back to the sanctuary to recover."

     "Nooooooo," Jade howled, "Markarth is just a few hours that way. Dawnstar is a two days walk in the opposite direction!" she gestured to the large pack weighing down on her shoulder, "Treasure, remember?"

     "She's quite clearly someone's slave. It wouldn't be safe to take her into such a populated area in her condition," Cicero tried to explain, "She can't defend herself and there's obviously something strange about her. Someone could be looking for-"

     "Good! Let them find her! And the only strange thing I see is a shirtless middle-aged man hugging an unconscious young elf girl, begging to take her home."

     Cicero sighed and carefully laid the girl back down on the sand. He then stood to retrieve his tunic. Jade watched him dress and waited patiently for his retort, yet he said nothing. Instead, Cicero returned to the girl and picked her back up with ease.

     "We are going back to Dawnstar," he explained boldly, "There should be a carriage in Morthal we can take."

     "Morthal!?" Jade exclaimed, finally wading back onto the shore.

     "It's the same distance east to Morthal as it is west to Markarth. Do you ever cease the complaints?"

     Jade fell silent. Mostly out of awe that he was actually talking back to her. Who was calling the shots here!? She couldn't let him start this shit again. Jade was the Dragonborn. She was the hero of this story, NOT the idiot jester who not so low-key wanted his own pet slave girl to take home.

     "NO! Uh-ah! You are not making the decis- where are you going!? Don't you walk away from me!" she snapped as Cicero carried the half-frozen elf girl up the banks to the east. He attempted to ignore the Listener's bitching. Jade felt bewildered. Where'd the respect go? Her hand hovered over the hilt of her dagger as she glared at him walking away. Why was he acting this way? Out of spite? Was it because of the exchange the night before? ...this had to be some sort of power play.

     Jade lowered her hand from the blade and ground her teeth. Alright... fine. She could sell the goods in Whiterun after they stop off in Dawnstar. She slid the bag further up her shoulder knowing it was not going to be fun carrying so much junk on her own. That was Cicero's job. She felt over-encumbered after the first few yards causing her to slow her pace. Through the struggle, she never released the bastard from her glare. She was the hero. Not him.

     Jade quietly followed at a distance.  

>>> New character added to the Character Guide Book: Ruby

Chapter Text

     A few hours after leaving camp, Cicero and Jade finally reached the outskirts of Morthal; a reclusive town hidden in the dense marshes of the Hjaalmarch reach. The swampy surroundings and thick fog made it difficult to travel but provided some decent protection from attack.

     Jade groaned as she trudged through the mucky shin-high waters, her boots suctioning into the mud. Even though the elf girl didn't weigh much, Cicero was exhausted from carrying her. He had since shifted her into his back to relieve some of the strain but walking while hunching forward created its own set of aches and pains. He felt a wave of relief flow over him when he saw the docks of Morthal through the trees ahead.

     "I hope you know," Jade protested while out of breath, "I'm not planning to pay for the wagon. It was your choice to backtrack. We could be in Markarth right now, drinking the finest mead at the tavern with the pay from these riches I'VE BEEN HAULING!"

     "Completely understandable, Listener!" he called back to her, "But Cicero has no gold of his own. So perhaps we should just continue the rest of the trip on foot after a short rest?"

     Jade clenched her teeth. Her attempt to be stubborn and punish him for the inconvenience was not worth the continued discomfort. She adjusted the pack of heavy treasure on her shoulder. That cart idea was starting to sound good all of a sudden.

     "Absolutely not," she mumbled and reached into the small coin purse on her belt to feel how much money she had, "You will owe me for this." Jade cleared her throat. Her feet hurt so bad.

     Morthal may have been a small town, but it was full of laborers and transients. It was a midway point between Central and Western Skyrim. Many goods were moved through there daily so it was a great place for merchant caravans to rest. Though, due to its marshy location, the town didn't smell very pleasant to outsiders. The constant state of high humidity drew a lot of insects and pests adding to the 'just passing through' nature of things.

     Near the main road at the head of the town, several wagons were parked. Some were filled with merchant goods while others appeared available for rent. Cicero approached one of the empty carts and carefully laid the unmoving elf into the back. Jade followed suit, throwing her bag over both of them, it slamming into the back of the driver's bench. The owner of the cart, an older Nord, stepped around the side of the carriage.

     "Where to?" he asked.

     "Dawnstar," Jade sighed fumbling for her gold pouch. The driver's eyes darted over to the unconscious elven girl in the back. Deciding that the gold was more important than answers, he didn't comment.

     Cicero pulled himself up onto the back of the cart to get off his feet, dangling his legs over the edge. As Jade counted her gold to pay, a curious guard for the hold walked over to get a better look at the living 'cargo'.

     "What's this about, citizen?" he asked in a thick Nordic accent, his question directed to Cicero. Before he could reply, Jade piped up.

     "Oh, that's just his young slave girl," she jested in a nonchalant tone. Cicero's eyes widened as he struggled to think of a response. The guard said nothing. The silence between them grew awkward.

     "Your slave looks dead," the guard finally said flatly.

     Cicero began feeling uneasy. He smiled weakly as he suddenly became light-headed.

     Jade laughed, turning to the guard and placing her hand on her hip, "Oh! Well, my traveling companion here; he has this thing for dead females. Loves them. He's got another at home that he's been very good about upkeeping. You would never assume that she was centuries old."

     Again, the guard said nothing. He just stared at Jade with his beady eyes through the holes in his mask. Jade smiled, waiting for his baited reply. Cicero's stomach churned. He wanted so bad to join in on the joke with a great retort, but the sudden cramping in his gut caused him to fold forward in pain. The guard glanced back at Cicero.

     "What's wrong with him?"

     Jade's smile dropped. She was disappointed that he didn't take her bait to follow the joke. "Him? About three generations of imperial inbreeding and a little over a decade of solitary confinement while Daedric Prince Sheogorath personally fucked him in the ass and didn't bother giving him a reach around. So, I'm sure you can understand why he's so 'mad'," Jade chuckled, leaning in a little trying to push the comedy.

     The guard's silence was starting to make her uncomfortable. Her eyes darted over to Cicero, wondering why he also hadn't said anything yet. She had set up the jokes perfectly! Her comedic timing was flawless, and now it was all ruined. Sure, they hadn't been exactly meeting eye to eye lately, but she knew that Cicero was a stickler for puns and bad jokes. It was quite literally his thing!

     Cicero groaned and squinted up at the guard appearing to be in pain. The guard squinted back. He seemed more suspicious than concerned.

     "What's in the bag?" he motioned to the sack she had just thrown into the back of the cart. A couple of metal Dwarven trinkets had spilled out of it.

     "That?" Jade was startled by the continued questioning. What was this? Some sort of shakedown? "UH-... metal. Scavenged for weapon crafting. You know, for smithing stuff."

     The guard glanced back at Cicero again who was turning pale. The jester forced a smile and nodded convincingly while holding his arms around his stomach. This whole situation didn't seem suspicious at all! A 40-something Imperial costumed as a royal merry-man, a rather sexy Nord woman not-so-subtly dressed as an assassin with a Daedric sword, and a seemingly dead female slave of some ambiguous elvan race covered in wounds, along with a bag full of what appeared to be stolen treasures of unknown origin... nothing to see here.

     "...Alright," the guard grunted, "No lollygagging. Keep it moving-"

     Cicero finally opened his mouth to reply but instead, projectile vomited all over the front of the guard's armor. The wet spatter of the puke- made up of what looked like smushy purple berries, chunks of chewed fox meat, and bile- smelled horrendous.

     Jade's eyes grew wide but she remained silent. Cicero wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve and raised his head to look the guard in the eye, his lips tightly holding a smirk. No one moved, except for the cart driver, who leaned over to see what had happened.

     The guard finally broke the awkward moment by drawing his sword, "By the Nine!" he gagged, "I should have you arrested!"

     Jade quickly grew anxious. This simple encounter was turning bad quick and she needed to just get them out of the town... out of the eyes of the law.

     "Please, forgive him! He-...uh, he's dying! Yes! We are taking him to Dawnstar to see his mother one last time before he passes! Terrible disease. Not contagious! But fast-acting, so we must leave right away!" she pleaded, hoping to have calmed the guard's rage.

     Cicero popped his tongue as he swished the nasty taste in his mouth and nodded enthusiastically. "Oh, yes!" he chirped, his voice slightly gargled. He swallowed hard and began again, "Oh, yes! Mother, Dearest Mother is awaiting dear Cicero's return! For, I am not long for this world. We must go, post haste if I'm ever to say goodbye to my sweet sweet Motherrr..."

     Jade clasped her hands together in a begging gesture and nodded in agreement. The guard looked back and forth between them while holding a wide stance, his sword at the ready. The vomit dripped down his legs, pooling under his feet.

     "Please..." Jade whispered, giving the guard puppy eyes, "Forgive the silly faithless Imperial. If I wasn't hired by his wealthy mother to escort him home... I'd have left him as skeever food a long time ago."

     The guard lowered his blade and relaxed his stance while looking Jade over, "Wait a minute..." he said suddenly in a low tone, "I know you-"

     "AH!" Cicero exclaimed abruptly, "YES! She is the legendary Dragonborn! The heroine of Akatosh! Dragon's blood courses through her veins! I've once seen her take down two- neigh, three ancient dragons at once with only 2 arrows and a single wheel of cheese!"

     Jade stared in surprise noting the sudden shift in the situation. Who really knew how this guard recognized her... or what he recognized her as. She was boldly dressed as a Brotherhood member, carried a Daedric sword, had many bounties around the region from her previous work with the Thieves Guild... but yes! Dragonborn! That'll work. Perhaps that would distract the guard from recalling her lengthy criminal record.

     "AH-HAHA!" Jade cackled loudly, "Indeed! I'm the one the Gray Beards foretold! Fear not, sir, for I am merely passing through. No dragons here. You're welcome!"

     She climbed into the back of the cart; the smell of the puke finally hit her nose. She tried not to react as she took her seat on the bench and placed her hand on Cicero's shoulder.

     "Well, we should be off, now! Thank you for your vigilant service to the hold!" Jade babbled.

     "No, no," the guard said thinking out loud, "Not that..."

     Cicero looked over his shoulder at Jade with concern as he slowly slid his hand down to his dagger. Jade noticed and subtly shook her head at him.

     "Oh," she hummed, "Perhaps in passing, then! Driver!" Jade gestured toward the driver's seat, "We best be off if we should arrive before dark!"

     "Wait wait-" the guard stepped closer, "No, I know your face..."

     Cicero pulled himself up onto the opposite bench, "Maybe you both crossed in a mead-filled eve with a romp in the sheets? That's how we met," he jabbed his thumb in Jade's direction.

     Her jaw dropped and her face turned a light shade of red.

     "That's it!" the guard gasped, "Moorside Inn!" he motioned to the inn up the road, "It was a Fridas in Last Seed, if I recall..."

     "I- I don't-" Jade stuttered and turned to the driver, "I paid! Let's go already!"

     "Yeah, yeah!" The guard's mood suddenly pepped up, "There was some contract murder of an Orsimer bard there. I met you while investigating and-"

     "...Skoref, right?" Jade said in a flat tone, finally giving in as the cart started to move.

     The guard's eyes lit up, "You do remember me!"

     "Haaa... yeah, I'm pretty good with names... uh- well- You've got some vomit on you there..." she pointed casually at his crotch.

     The guard stumbled back, suddenly remembering his appearance. He stiffly turned away to assess the mess as the cart continued up the path away from town. Jade sighed in relief and looked over at Cicero. He waved playfully back at the guard and glanced back at her.

     "Teamwork," he said quietly.

     "Makes the dream work."

Chapter Text

     Cicero cleared his throat and spit over the side of the rail. The taste of vomit lingered. Jade's smile faded back to her usual bitch face as she leaned back and put her feet up on the bench next to him. After wiping his face a few times, Cicero carefully reached down and pulled the elven girl up onto his lap and held her against the jarring of the wagon's movements.

     "Please hand me that sheet, Listener," he asked, motioning to a tattered tarp draped over some tools against the back of the driver's seat. Jade made sure to over-exaggerate her reach to show him how inconvenienced she was by his request. She held it out to him with a limp wrist.

     "Thank you, kindly," he said in a surprisingly non-sarcastic tone.

     She sat back and crossed her arms, watching him wrap the girl up to protect her from the brisk chill in the air as night crept in. It felt like he was caring for a sick child. Why was he so concerned about what happened to this strange elf? It was the first time she'd seen him take any interest in something to this degree beyond his care for the Night Mother.

     "Did you name her?" Jade asked in a slightly mocking tone.

     "She's not a pet, Listener. I'm sure she has a name."

     "Well, she's not talking, so..."

     Cicero gazed down at the girl and tugged at her curly white hair with his fingers. She shifted slightly, showing more signs of life than when they had found her. He carefully pulled down at her right eyelid causing her to squint in reaction.

     "You are safe, young elf," he spoke gently, "Cicero and Miss Jade are taking you to a safe place. A sanctuary. Cicero's family is there."

     Jade stared at him lost in thought. Cicero really did think of the Dark Brotherhood as his family. Even though he had only been with this sanctuary's members for a few months, and they tried to have him killed for his old age beliefs... given, after he attacked several of the members for disrespecting the five tenets... he was still devoted to them. Nazir, the Dawnstar Sanctuary's new Speaker, has even openly voiced his dislike of the fool; even to his face on many occasions. But, through Jade's command, Nazir was reminded to respect Cicero as the Keeper and a ranking member.

     Cicero never really bothered Jade. Okay, so his insufferable optimism and bad jokes wore on her, and don't get her started on that obnoxious tone of voice he uses. She knew he did that on purpose to accentuate his warped acquired persona of a silly jester. She'd heard him speak normally, usually when he was trying to make a point to her.

     Jade acted as if she didn't care about him and often times threatened to leave him behind. But ever since she had learned of his tragic past, sacrificing his sanity to protect the remaining essence of his former sanctuary, she knew that there was a strange method to his madness and there was a lot more to this joker than simply playing the comic relief. His limitless dedication and admiration for the Brotherhood, for the Night Mother, for Sithis... even for her as the Listener. There were way more layers to this guy than met the eye and every once in a while, she caught a small glimpse of something underneath. He seemed quite intelligent and not at all as mad as he wanted others to think. It was a clever tactic, both to trick an enemy into underestimating him and to bury unwanted years of pain.

     "Ruby," Cicero's voice broke her train of thought.

     "Huh?"

     "Ruby!" Cicero chuckled, "We shall call her Ruby for now."

     "Sure, but why?"

     "Why not? Her eye is the color of a beautiful ruby."

     "Naming her after her eye color?" Jade questioned, "You said she wasn't your pet. I had a dog named Blue for the same reason."

     "Jade," he said boldly.

     "What?" she blinked her green eyes, "Oh. Jade's not my real name," she said, glancing away.

     "It's not?" he gasped, "I knew it didn't sound like a Nord's title!"

     "I changed it when I was a teenager."

     "Why, if I may ask?" Cicero seemed quite interested.

     "No, you may not," Jade said flatly and rested her arm on the outer railing, staring off into the trees.

     "Cicero understands. We all have darkness in our pasts that we'd rather forget. But unfortunately, you can't rename the pain."

     That. That was the sort of profound statement that had Jade convinced that he was much more intelligent than he pretended to be. Tragedy, sacrifice, the need for acceptance, and his obsessive devotion had carved Cicero into a complex and oftentimes contradictory man.

     The more Jade stared at Ruby, the more she began to feel uneasy, "You notice the collar?" she nodded to the bronze piece around the girl's throat.

     "Of course. It's what led Cicero to believe she was a slave-"

     "The etchings," Jade interrupted, "They look Dwarven or Dwemer or whatever."

     Cicero pulled the collar lightly as he examined it. Sure enough, the etchings appeared very similar to the designs seen on ancient Dwarven artifacts. "Indeed, so."

     "Do you think she was a slave in the ruins?" Jade asked, her tone less inquisitive than the question itself.

     "No," Cicero answered without hesitation.

     Jade's eyes shifted back up to him, "No? What makes you so sure?"

     "If you are suggesting she's Falmer, it just simply isn't possible."

     They both sat silently for a few moments. Ruby inhaled loudly. It seemed like she was coming to a bit more.

     "Maybe she's some kind of fluke?" Jade asked as she found herself suddenly becoming intrigued.

     Cicero shrugged, "The Dwarves enslaved the Falmer eras ago. Something crazy happened and the entire Dwarven race went missing. The blind and devolved ancestors of the Falmer are all that are left down in those ruins. You've seen them. They're monsters." He glanced down at Ruby again, "Though, Miss Ruby also doesn't look like any living elvan race Cicero has ever seen. Her features are unique."

     Ruby slowly wrapped her arms around Cicero's torso and clung weakly. She hadn't moved this much on her own before. He tapped her back lightly to see if she would respond. Jade was starting to understand why this girl seemed so fascinating to him.

     "She could be bi-racial. Or even part of some undiscovered race," Jade sat up suddenly, "I bet she would be worth a lot to the right buyer. You think that museum nerd in Markarth would be interested? He collects that Dwarven crap," she pointed to the bag of artifacts.

     Cicero's eyes widened, "What!? Listener! What are you suggesting?"

     "If not, she is a slave, so she'd easily sell back into servitude. We could even say she's some pre-devolved snow elf fluke. Besides some random statues and etchings, no one really knows what they looked like anyway." Her tone was disturbingly excited.

     "Never!" Cicero's tone shook with frustration. "How could you even think of something that? She's not for sale like a beast of burden! You need to see that gold isn't everything! Perhaps Cicero was meant to find Miss Ruby. Some treasures are not meant to be sold," he mumbled and glanced away in disgust.

     Jade slouched back down on the bench and crossed her arms, saying nothing. It was just an idea... fine. Maybe that wasn't Cicero's intention in rescuing the girl, but she was definitely of value. It was just a matter of figuring out how much.

Chapter Text

     Cicero could barely keep his eyes open as his head bobbed with the bouncing of the cart. The only thing keeping him awake now that the nausea of the toxic berries had long worn off, was the sharp chill of the air stinging his face. As it got dark and the temperatures dropped dramatically, Jade had moved over to sit beside him on his bench. Her urge to keep warm by sharing body heat was at odds with her need to not let Cicero see her as weak or dependent. She tried her best to doze off with her shoulder against his, her chin bowed on her chest.

     Ruby's eyes fluttered open and she began looking around, trying to focus on her surroundings. She lifted her head slowly from Cicero's chest and gazed up at the clear night sky above. Her eyes were sensitive to even the light of the moons which seemed so close, you could pluck them from the sky. The northern aurora danced across the ether, radiating the most vibrant colors she'd ever seen. As her eyes adjusted, she opened them wider to take it all in. She had never witnessed anything so vast.

     Ruby's movement snapped Cicero from his dream state and he rotated his shoulders to sit up. With his legs asleep, he carefully shifted her across his lap for some relief. Ruby tilted her head to look at the man who had saved her life. She smiled.

     "Greetings, young miss," Cicero whispered. Ruby stared at him like she'd never seen anything so strange. She leaned back and gradually sat up, holding tightly to him. He noticed the wonder in her gaze.

     "My name is Cicero and this lovely woman is Miss Jade," Cicero nudged Jade in the rib to get her attention.

     "What is your issue!?" She snapped as she ripped out of sleep but quickly noticed that the elf was sitting up, "Oh... has- did she say anything?"

     "What's your name?" Cicero asked politely, feeling Ruby wobbling a little in his arms. She seemed weak and unable to hold herself up on her own.

     "WHAT. ARE. YOU?" Jade asked in a loud monotone.

     "She's not deaf," Cicero flinched.

     "How do you know?"

     "I-..." He looked Ruby in the face, now clearly seeing her bright red right eye. It didn't seem damaged, just... not the same as her blue eye. "Do you understand me?"

     Ruby's smile grew slowly as he spoke. She had a childlike way about her. She was clearly mature though small in stature. She was petite but quite curvaceous with large hips and a robust chest that rivaled Jade's... but yet, she seemed to lack the natural mannerisms of an adult.

     "What's your name? What do you remember?" Jade probed, sounding impatient. Ruby appeared to giggle but she made no sound. Cicero tilted his head as he examined her scared face, suddenly feeling concerned.

     "Can you speak?" he asked, gently using his hand to turn her head to face him again. Ruby lifted her hand and touched his face in return.

     "Oh, dear Sithis, she's brain-damaged," Jade groaned, leaning back into her seat.

     "If you can understand Cicero, nod your head," he said slowly.

     Ruby traced the laugh lines around Cicero's mouth with her fingertips. She then reached up to his jester's cap, pulling one of the ears until it slid off of his head. Cicero held a weak smile but his eyes were full of concern.

     "She doesn't understand..." he muttered through his teeth to Jade.

     "Great. You adopted a brain-damaged childlike mute," she answered as she leaned on the railing to stand.

     "Maybe she just doesn't understand our language... perhaps she speaks in elven tongue?" Cicero thought out loud and placed his jester's cap on Ruby's head.

     Jade stretched and looked off to the snow-covered fields around her to try and get her bearings. It was way past midnight, with only the light of the moons to see from. She was able to make out some torch lights on the horizon.

     "Driver," she asked, turning to the older man steering the horse, "Where are we?"

     "About fifteen minutes from the shoreline, ma'am. Dawnstar to the north there," he replied.

     "Finally," Jade sighed, "I could use a pint of-"

     The horse suddenly reared up, jolting the cart. The wheel axle twisted and snapped, lodging the cart in place. The driver began shouting in confusion. Jade stumbled against the bench as a large burst of light filled the sky above the wagon, followed by a loud rumbling roar. The horse bucked and kicked trying to free itself from the restraints.

     "DRAGON!!" The driver bellowed, throwing the reins and leaping off of the driver's seat to duck behind the broken wheel. Ruby stared up at the huge beast cutting through the sky above them. Her expression was of wonder rather than fear. Cicero's eyes shot over to his bow and quiver lying on the floor of the cart. He hesitated. Dragon fighting was nothing new to Cicero after adventuring with Jade for the last few months. Admittedly, it never really got easier or less terrifying, but he needed to hold his composure so as not to frighten Ruby. He didn't know how she might react.

     Jade grabbed her sword and leaped up onto the bench, "Just an ugly old elder dragon!" she shouted, "I got this!"

     Ruby's wonder was rapidly fading as she tightened her grip on Cicero. This may have been something new and incredible to her, but the fear and anxiety of the others told her that this event was something to be concerned about.

     Jade jumped from the wagon, landing with a slight stagger, and bolted into the dark field. She squinted up at the immense silhouette bending through the sky. The heavy thumping of its beating wings reverberated in her chest as they flashed across the moons. Another plume of fire burst from the dragon's mouth, casting an eerie orange glow across the snow.

     Cicero strained to see where Jade had gone and wondered if he should leave the weakened elf to help. He was sure Jade could handle it on her own. She fought dozens of dragons before teaming up with him... but he watched just to be sure.

     "Over here!" Jade called up to the beast, swinging her sword around. The dragon continued to swoop just above the scattered treetops, ignoring her. It appeared to be eyeing the wagon. More specifically, the terrified horse. "Not going to listen to me, eh?" she grunted while digging her heels into the ground.

     Cicero had seen this gesture before, typically at times he wasn't expecting it and for unnecessary reasons. He quickly pulled Ruby's head against his chest and raised his free hand to his ear, bracing himself.

     "JOOR! ZAH!! FRUL!!" Jade's voice roared with the thu'um; the language of the Dovah. It was so strong, it felt like the air had shifted around them. Ruby, not expecting something so loud, gasped and pulled Cicero's cap over her eyes as she covered against him.

     "Dragonborn!" The driver cried, sounding a bit more optimistic about the situation.

     The ancient words of the Dragon Rend tore at the creature's senses, confusing it, and causing it to lose its ability to focus upon flight. Jade smiled confidently as the elder dragon faltered and twisted, falling to the ground. It managed to land on its feet while huffing with frustration, smoke billowing from its nostrils.

     "Let's make this quick!" Jade called to it as she sauntered over, still flipping her sword around casually, "I'd like to sleep in an actual bed tonight!"

     The dragon struggled to lift its head as the effect of the thu'um ravaged its mind. It tilted enough to see Jade advancing closer. Its full attention was on her now and an eerie calmness surrounded them. Jade lifted her blade and angled it close to the dragon's eye as she slowed to a stop. Its breathing was agitated.

     Since learning of her identity as Dragonborn less than a year ago, Jade felt even more powerful and confident. One of the most feared entities of all existence showed submission to her with the simple use of three words. The feeling was immense; Almost orgasmic.

     The sound of metal clamoring in the distance threatened to interrupt her prideful moment. It was the clanking of armor and shouting of men. The guards from Dawnstar were on their way to attempt to aid in the situation. The effect of the Dragon Rend was limited, but Jade decided to take the opportunity to make a point. She tapped her sword on the dragon's scaled nose and turned to look back at the approaching audience.

     "I knew it!" one of the guards shouted, "The Dragonborn has come!" Several citizens were among the guards armed with swords and sticks. The spectators kept their distance as they gasped and murmured in awe.

     "Attention!" Jade called to them, "Citizens of Dawnstar! Of Skyrim! Of Tamriel! All people of Nirn! Men, mer, and beast alike!"

     The elder dragon remained calm, its breathing slowing to a steady purr. Cicero felt the pressure of the Rend lifting in the air around them. He quickly grabbed Ruby and lowered her to the floor of the wagon. She stared up at him weakly and with fear in her eyes. Hours of sitting with the girl's dead weight on his lap had cut off circulation to Cicero's legs. He retrieved his bow and strapped on his quiver before bracing himself on the bench, turning to see the spectacle in the field.

     "I am the legendary Dovahkiin! The Dragonborn! Hero of the 4th era!" Jade chanted, "Now witness as I vanquish this monstrosity and absorb its very soul!"

     The crowd cheered as the guards attempted to keep them back. The joyous outburst quickly turned to screams of terror. The dragon effortlessly craned its head up, its eyes focused squarely on Jade. Cicero knew he didn't have time to wait for the circulation in his legs to fully return. He had to act now.

     Jade saw the frightened reactions of the citizens and guards alike. Feeling the cold wind of movement behind her, she knew she had made a poor judgment.

     The dragon thrust its head forward in a swift snake-like motion, snapping its wide jaw closed around Jade's entire body. She was gone instantly.

     "Listener!!" Cicero screamed, leaping off the back of the cart. Hitting the ground, his legs weakly gave out causing him to tumble forward onto his knees. He felt helpless. The dragon reared its neck back and lifted its massive wings, beating them loudly, blowing snow and debris around as the onlookers scattered.

     Cicero forced himself up awkwardly and staggered toward the scene, holding his bow up and drawn. The dragon seemed to be choking on its victim, gnashing its teeth, and groaning loudly. The panic-stricken jester rapidly fired several arrows at it, trying to get its attention. It wasn't until one of the arrows struck its throat that the dragon gave pause long enough to notice his approach. Its intense glare sent a chill up Cicero's spine. He'd aided the Dragonborn in taking down these creatures, sure... but he'd never had to fight one alone.

     His mind raced. It was his job to protect the Listener! To protect her at all costs, even at the expense of his own pathetic life. He'd promised and swore that they would be together until one or both of them died horribly and met up again in the Void... but saying it and experiencing it were two different things.

     The dragon trudged through the snow, charging at Cicero. Its behavior was quite strange since dragons preferred combat through the safety of flight. Perhaps it just knew that Cicero was not a threat. His heart raced and time seemed to slow...

     No, wait... it WAS slow. Cicero, holding his drawn bow up, felt everything around him decelerate to a crawl. He was not immune to this effect himself, but his mind continued at the regular pace. He took a very gradual deep breath and aimed the arrow at the impending doom before him. The sluggish movement made it easier for him to aim directly at the dragon's eye. Releasing the arrow, he inhaled and watched it launch in slow motion.

     The dragon slid toward Cicero, opening its mouth, reading to swallow him whole as well. Every second felt like ten. His arrow floated past the beast's snout and lodged on target into its eye. At that exact moment, time abruptly snapped back to normal and the dragon arched back in pain, releasing a deafening gargle of a roar as it began to flail. Cicero flinched as he tried to rationalize what had just happened. His composure could have been mistaken for confidence.

     "Fall, damn you!" he shrieked, his voice cracking as he nocked another arrow.

     Feeling vulnerable from being half-blinded, the elder dragon shook its head trying to shake the arrow from its eye. It beat its wings desperately trying to take off. Before it could get airborne, it opened its mouth again, but this time, it appeared to be reacting in extreme pain. A thunderous yet muffled voice rang out from within.

     "FUS! RO!! DAH!!!"

     Instantly, the dragon's throat burst from within; blood, flesh, and scales splattering across the snow. Its now decapitated head dropped from its neck onto the ground before Cicero with a loud, wet slam. The body continued to stagger around for a few seconds before collapsing under its own weight. The rumble from the event faded giving way to the awe of silence.

     Blood dripped down Cicero's face and chest, his eyes wide in confusion. He lowered his bow, staring at the massive dragon head before him. His heart felt like it was going to explode in his chest. He panted loudly, the steam from his breath clouding around his face. Suddenly, a chorus of cheers rose from the spectators as they all came running to see. The guards seemed just as excited.

     Cicero slowly sheathed the bow over his shoulder and stared down at his shaking hands covered in blood. Jade. Where was Jade? He suddenly ripped from his stance, sprinting over to the mutilated neck. Using his dagger, Cicero began to slice and rip at the thick hide.

     "Listener!!" he sobbed as he carved, "Listener!! Please!" his voice shook as he refused to believe that he'd failed to protect her.

     "That was incredible!" one of the guards hailed, "How did you do that!?"

     Cicero ignored the praise, " Please! Help me find her!" he pleaded. The guards quickly leaped in to assist but no sooner had they laid their blades upon the scales, that the dragon's flesh began to glow and flake away into the ether. Everyone, except for Cicero, took a step back as the body of the creature appeared to dissolve. Its glowing soul separated and twisted around the jester's knelt position.

     The citizens began cheering again as the wind of the spinning soul subsided. Cicero lifted his eyes to see that the body of the dragon was reduced to its mere bones. This may have been thrilling for the citizens to witness, but he'd seen it many times before. It meant that the Dragonborn had successfully absorbed its soul...

     Cicero's excitement came from seeing Jade pull herself up on one of the massive ribs, wiping her hands off on her leggings casually before searching around the ground for her sword. Cicero couldn't believe his eyes. She was completely unharmed.

     "My Listener!" he gasped, his smile couldn't be any bigger, "You are alive!"

     "Yeh," Jade sighed finally locating her blade among the bones. Her body was still glowing slightly, "Could have gone better. Wasn't much air in there," she rubbed her throat, "Can't shout much without air-"

     Cicero burst forward and wrapped his arms around her in a bear hug. She allowed it for a moment, but once she noticed the excited crowd rapidly closing in, she quickly pried him off. The admiration in the eyes of the Dawnstar citizens milked her ego. As sloppy as it was to be eaten by a dragon in front of them, her quick thinking to use a time-slow thu'um to buy her some time made her seem even more impressive. Besides, nothing beats a good old shout of Unrelenting Force to instill fear and reverence in the commoners just to wrap it all up.

     "Let me breathe, kid," she coughed, shoving Cicero away to engage in her adoring fans. Feeding on the attention, she bowed and began twirling her blade again.

     Cicero felt relieved that she was alright, but also a little disappointed not to be acknowledged for his aid. No matter. He was very used to receiving little to no credit for his help. For, it wasn't about the praise. It was about the outcome. The Listener was safe and happy to boot. He liked it when she was happy. She was such a miserable person most of the time. So he aimed to please.

     Cicero headed back to the wagon, leaving Jade to her moment in the spotlight. He smiled a little as he knelt to retrieve his arrow from the skull of the dragon.

     As the cart driver calmed his horse, Cicero pulled the heavy bag of treasures over his shoulder and gently lifted Ruby into his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly, still reeling over everything she had just witnessed. Cicero kindly thanked the driver and apologized for the event even though he had nothing to do with it, and if anything, saved the man's life.

     Jade soaked up the attention a while longer as Cicero carried Ruby up the road into Dawnstar, making his way to the sanctuary near the coast. The feeling of being home filled him with a sense of ease he hadn't felt in quite some time and he was excited to finally introduce Ruby to Mother.

Chapter Text

     Cicero felt like his back was about to give out as he carried the elven girl into the sanctuary. He was truly beginning to feel his age. Staggering through the musty corridor, the familiar humid and mossy scent of the underground refuge was welcoming him home.

     "Mother!" he cheered, rounding the corner of the landing, "Mother! Cicero has returned; Returned with a surprise! Oh, wait 'til you see!" He suddenly felt his energy jump as he hobbled over to the large upright stone casket displayed in the corner.

     Clinging tightly to his tunic, Ruby stared up at it in awe. It was intricately etched with strange and creepy designs. Cicero gently placed her on the floor in front of it before removing a small key from a hole in the face of the casket. He pulled the doors open slowly with a wide smile on his face. Inside was the surprisingly well-preserved corpse of the beloved Night Mother, the matron of the Dark Brotherhood, just as he had left her a week before.

     Ruby gasped, startled by the sight. The shriveled mummified body of an old Dunmer woman stood before her; its rotted mouth agape through omitted lips. Cicero could hardly contain himself. He frolicked a little before stepping back and kneeling beside Ruby.

     "Mother! Sweet Mother! This is Miss Ruby! A strange elven girl the Listener and I found on our quest!" he chirped, "She is gentle and weak and Cicero has brought her home to care for her."

     Ruby clung to Cicero's arm, staring at the corpse to which he spoke with such passion. Though she could not understand the words he used, she could feel his warm admiration and his sense of duty for this deceased female. The love and need to please she drew from him calmed her. Ruby smiled as the aura of the corpse became soft and filled her with comfort. She could now see the Night Mother as Cicero did. Ruby rested her head on his shoulder as he explained the last few days to Mother.

     "Who's that?" a child's voice interrupted from behind them.

     Cicero and Ruby turned to see a young Breton. Babette appeared to be an adolescent but she was, in fact, close to three centuries old. Being bitten by a vampire at a young age had forever prevented her from physically aging. She seemed like a typical child until she opened her mouth and spoke what was on her mind.

     "Oh!" Cicero gasped, "Un-child! This is Miss Ruby! She is our guest."

     Babette crossed her arms and studied the new elven girl's face, "Huh... A Snow Elf?"

     Cicero blinked a few times before glancing over at Ruby who was smiling obliviously.

     "I-... I don't see how that is possible," he replied, surprised at the assumption.

     Babette shrugged, "Based on the story you just shared with the Night Mother, it sounds to me like she was trapped in the ice of the ruins."

     Cicero fell silent. It seemed so obvious now that a third party had pointed it out. Ruby must have been somehow frozen for centuries to avoid the fate of her ancestors. Breaking the lever and accidentally reactivating the steam machines during their careless invasion of the ruins had thawed her. That also explained the warm river and how she could even still be alive.

     "Perhaps..." Cicero hummed, lost in thought. This realization suddenly brought up a whole new series of questions.

     "Ruby was it?" Babette continued, "What do you remember?"

     "Oh, she has yet to speak," Cicero explained, "She's probably still in shock."

     The vampire girl nodded slowly. Babette's young appearance fooled many into believing she was naive and uninformed. Being around for over three hundred years, she was much wiser and had observed much more than one would assume. She knew there was more to Cicero's new friend just by laying eyes on her. Frankly, she was amazed that the fool had picked up on it as well even if he had no idea what he was looking at. Something had intrigued him enough to rescue and bring her back to the Sanctuary.

     "She's got a lot of cuts and scrapes," Babette noted, "Perhaps you should take her to the sleeping quarters and get her bandaged up. I'll mix up some potions to help her gain her health back."

     "Stupendous idea!" Cicero cheered and climbed to his feet. Knowing that Ruby's legs were still too weak to stand, he carefully picked her up again.

     "Ah, you're back," a thick Valenwood accent called from the main hall below. Cicero glanced down the steps as he passed. It was one of the newer initiates; a young male Bosmer with strikingly odd violet hair. He was dressed in oversized shrouded robes and seemed quite interested as he bound up the stairs to greet them.

     "Indeed, initiate Sage! All turned out well!" Cicero spoke in a lively tone, yet his body language suggested that he didn't feel well enough to elaborate. He continued around the bend of the hall.

     "And you found treasure," Sage grinned with his bright turquoise eyes locked on Ruby. She smiled back at the eager elven boy over Cicero's shoulder.

     "Coincidently, so! This precious gem is Miss Ruby and she will be staying with us," Cicero said without slowing his stride.

     Sage seemed very enthusiastic to meet the new girl and practically fell over himself trying to keep up. "Hello, lovely. My name is Sage."

     Ruby continued to grin politely but said nothing.

     "Is she okay? What happened to her? Can she walk?"

     Cicero didn't respond to the onslaught of questions. Though Sage hadn't been with the Brotherhood for more than a few weeks, it was noticed early on that he was a bit of a busybody. Though charismatic and polite, he was rather nosey. It was a useful hobby for any assassin to get to know everyone around you, but his interest in others' business was a bit unsettling at times, especially with how little he talked about himself. In the Dark Brotherhood, everyone came from a twisted or dark past. So he wasn't the only one to keep such things to himself. Though, perhaps that was what fueled his intrigue about the others.

     Sage continued to tag along behind them until they reached the sleeping quarters. Cicero placed Ruby on a pelt-covered bed and retrieved some gauze and bandaging from a small chest beside the nightstand. Sage held eye contact with Ruby as Cicero began dressing her more serious wounds. She didn't flinch or whine and somehow kept her innocent smile. She was quite beautiful, even with her messy hair and tattered clothes. There was just something about her that felt harmless and safe. Sage liked that.

     "Miss Ruby can use my bed," Cicero said warmly, "I can find another. It gets quite cold in here at night... though, it's probably nowhere near as cold as the ruins."

     "You found her in the ruins?" Sage inquired as he watched him gathering blankets for her, "Was she someone's slave?"

     "Judging by her shackles, possibly so."

     "She doesn't talk, does she? Do you think she's brain-damaged? Perhaps from the injuries?"

     Cicero carefully covered her with the blankets, "She may just not understand our language. It was a long trip, initiate. Our little guest needs rest and Cicero needs proper food to cure his mood." He gestured for Sage to follow.

     Just before Cicero blew out the candle on the nightstand, Sage glanced back at Ruby one last time. She was no longer smiling, and if anything, she looked nervous to see them leaving. Ruby was afraid of the dark and didn't like being alone... for good reason.

~

     After finally tearing herself away from her adoring fans, Jade proudly sauntered into the Sanctuary. She nearly tripped over the bag of treasures that Cicero had dropped at the entrance. What a lazy brat, she thought. He couldn't even carry it a few more yards into the main room. She knelt to collect the spilled trinkets when a long shadow fell over her.

     "You're quite good at bringing home strays," the deep voice of a Redguard mumbled. Jade sighed and stood up, throwing the strap of the bag over her shoulder.

     "You'll never get over that, will you Nazir? If I hadn't spared the fool, where would you get your daily dose of jesterly jokes and jingles? " she smirked.

     Nazir, the Speaker of the new Brotherhood Sanctuary was not very fond of the Fool of Hearts, and rightfully so. The moment Cicero arrived at his original sanctuary in Falkreath, there was an upset among the ranks. It had been pure chaos for weeks before the Listener ended it all by exposing the former Speaker Astrid's betrayal by framing both the Listener and Cicero in an attempt to pull the focus of power from the Night Mother. It wasn't that Nazir wanted Cicero dead, he merely wanted a break from the madness... and the dancing.

     "I'll never understand why you spared his pathetic life, but I suppose he brought the Dark Brotherhood back to its roots..." he grumbled, "Who's the girl he brought in?"

     "Ruby," Jade said and nonchalantly stepped past him, heading towards the living quarters.

     "And? To what do we owe this new mouth to feed?" Nazir called over his shoulder, making no attempt to follow and further the conversation.

     "Curiosity," she called back, too tired to explain.

~

     Sage was a wonderful chef. From a young age, he had taken on the role of cooking for his family after his father's death and his mother's resulting depression. He prided himself on his ability to learn and adapt to any situation. Partially for survival, but also because Sage was raised with his nose in a book. Studying came naturally to him, so with Ruby's arrival came a whole new topic to familiarize himself with. Plus, she was cute.

     His mind was whirring with questions as he leaned over the boiling pot of stew at the back of the main hall. He stirred in some herbs before ladling some into a wooden bowl.

     "It's nothing hearty," Sage called to Cicero who was sitting at the dining table at the center of the room, "I haven't added the meat yet. It'll need to marinate. I had intended to serve it tomorrow after my next contract-"

     "Oh!" Cicero suddenly chirped, "Quite alright, initiate. Cicero is just pleased to eat something he didn't have to hunt himself."

     Sage set the bowl before him, placing a spoon beside it. He glanced at Cicero noticing that he seemed quite out of it, staring into space. It was odd seeing him so still.

     "Is something wrong? Is it the girl?"

     "No no, not at all. Cicero just needs rest," he forced a smile and reached for the spoon, "Lots of excitement. The dragon outside was quite the welcome party."

     "Ah, that thing. Jade took care of it, I assume. It's been dipping around the shore for a few days making it difficult to come and go-"

     Cicero nodded subtly and stared into his bowl, "The great and powerful Listener took care of it. We are blessed to have her in charge." His voice sounded flat and almost sarcastic. It was quite eerie to see the 'merry man' acting so melancholy.

     It seemed like something had happened while out questing. Jade had been known to cause needless drama which was very tiring, even to someone with as much pep and energy as Cicero. The fact that he was being so withholding about the adventure was frustrating to Sage. In any case, the young initiate was more interested in getting to know the new girl. He wanted to learn more about her. A lot more. Like, everything.

~

     When Cicero finished his stew, he tiredly made his way back toward the living quarters. He cautiously approached the main bedroom and leaned in to see Jade already in her bed by candlelight. He didn't dare ask if he could bunk with her. Not after what had happened the other night. He clicked his tongue and turned back to the shared chambers.

     Ruby was fast asleep in his bed, her breathing calm and deep. Rather than making up a new bed, Cicero decided to sleep on the floor beside her so she could find him when she awoke. He quietly laid out a large bear pelt and tried to get comfortable... well, more comfortable than sleeping in the cold dirt outside as he had for the past week. He laid his head on his arm and closed his eyes. Sleep came easy.

     Later in the night, Ruby suddenly ripped from her slumber. She lifted her head and looked around nervously. What was this place? Where was her family? Where was she supposed to be? If they find her not at her station- she glanced down and saw Cicero sleeping beside the bed, his features barely visible by the torchlight spilling in from the hall. She placed her hand on the jester cap beside her pillow, remembering the calming feelings her new friend held for her. She was safe.

     The faint scent of something delicious caught her attention. Her stomach groaned with hunger. Ruby had never smelled something so wonderful. Using the subtle light from the hall, Ruby leaned over the edge of the bed and note Cicero's position as she slid her feet to the floor. She hesitated before attempting to stand on her wobbly legs. Like a newborn deer learning to walk, she crumbled to the floor instantly.

     "Miss!" Cicero gasped when she fell against him. He quickly sat up and reached for her to assist. Ruby instantly grabbed onto him, shaking a little. She then lifted her arm and pointed to the doorway.

     "What's wrong?" he asked as he turned to see. Ruby continued to point desperately. Her eagerness was rather alarming, triggering Cicero's ingrained urge to assist. He carefully got up and lifted her. He ignored the soreness of his muscles and carried her to the hallway, following her outstretched arm. She closed her eyes and sniffed before adjusting where she was pointing, ultimately leading them to the main hall. It was vacant except for the soft glow of the hearth and the low flame of the cooking station at the far end. As they neared the pot of stew and she grew excited and began to bounce in his arms.

     "Ah," he nodded, "Miss Ruby is famished." Cicero gently placed her in a seat at the table and walked over to the pot to prepare her a bowl. "The initiate says the stew isn't ready, but Cicero will add some flair for the hungry lady."

     Not understanding what he was saying, Ruby watched Cicero open a crate beside the cooking station and fish out a small bunch of carrots and a potato. He returned to the table and set the bowl down, unsheathing his dagger to chop up the vegetables. Ruby observed with much interest. He dropped the chopped bits in the stew and slit the bowl over to her.

     "Let me get you a spoo-"

     Before he could finish his sentence, she was already eagerly sipping from the bowl, making little huffing sounds as she tried not to burn her lips. Cicero shrugged and took a seat across from her. He had saved one of the carrots for himself, watching to make sure she was pleased before snacking on it.

     "I hope you feel at home here," he spoke softly, "I've lived here for months but it didn't feel like home until the others joined. Family is everything."

     Ruby chewed the crunchy veggies and continued to smile at him. It tasted so good, like nothing she'd ever had before. She didn't mind that the carrots and potatoes were raw or that the stew was missing a key ingredient. Once finished she set the bowl back down and took a moment to catch her breath. It felt so warm and nice going down.

     Cicero smiled back at her as she searched the massive room with her eyes; the walls lit by the crackling fireplace behind him. It was quiet... so painfully quiet. His smile faded. He had spent years of his life in solitude under the Cheydinhal sanctuary protecting the Night Mother during the purification and riots of Cyrodiil... waiting, hoping, praying that she would speak to him and bless him with the honor of becoming the next Listener. He longed so much to hear the voice of Mother; the one he'd committed his life to... his sanity to... But nothing. He was deemed unworthy.

     Now here he was sitting across from Ruby; the sweet innocent girl who couldn't fend for herself. He felt an overwhelming need to protect her as well, but again... he feared that he may never hear her voice. Oh, the painful yet familiar lonely irony.

>>> New characters added to the Character Guide Book: Sage / Babette and Nazir

Chapter Text

     Several days had passed since Ruby's arrival at the sanctuary. Her muscles gradually strengthened enough to allow her to move around on her own. She seemed curious about everything she could get her hands on. Babette "found" an old farming dress on one of her evening outings and patched it up for her to wear. The shackles on her throat, wrists, and ankles proved impossible to remove. This didn't seem to bother her because with her wounds freshly bandaged and her confidence restored, Ruby rapidly became the mascot around the sanctuary. Her sweet and naive disposition was a welcome contrast to the dark and murderous atmosphere. She was like a little ball of sunshine.

     Ruby quickly picked up her own chores of cleaning and helping with meals which reflected her past life of servitude. She always made sure she was in eye-line with Cicero as if she was afraid to lose sight of him. Her inability to speak or understand the language didn't appear to challenge her communication since she asked for very little and was more interested in observing. Ruby's delighted smile never seemed to leave her face.

     Babette had noticed early on that alchemy was something that their new guest understood without much need for explanation. Ruby clearly knew her way around an alchemy table, though she seemed much more content to watch. Babette handed her a bowl of various plant roots as she organized various ingredients on the table.

     "Canis root and a swamp fungal pod are all you need for a simple paralysis potion," the small assassin explained while working a mortar and pestle. "Briarhearts work too if you are out of roots, but the Listener failed to bring any back from her trip to the Reach AGAIN..."

     "She doesn't understand yooouu..." Jade hummed as she reached the top of the steps.

     "You don't know everything. She understands more than you know-"

     "MOTHER!?" Cicero cried from the other side of the landing.

     The three women looked over to see him standing before the Night Mother's casket, staring into his hands. Ruby dropped the bowl on the table and ran to him, hooking herself around his arm tightly.

     "By Sithis, Cicero! Why are you screaming?" Jade grunted as she made her way over with much less haste.

     "Mother! Sweet Mother!! Cicero is sorry!" he wailed as he trembled.

     "What did you do!?" Jade leaned to see dust in his hands.

     Cicero suddenly turned to her, "Sh-... she's- LISTENER!"

     "WHAT!?"

     "Please! Has the Night Mother spoken with you lately?"

     "Well-" Jade paused. As a matter of fact, the Night Mother had not spoken to her since before she had left on the previous quest. No new contracts. No ominous requests. Nothing.

     Cicero appeared to be in agony waiting for her reply.

     "Well, she... I didn't want to tell you but she said that you are a moron and she's disappointed in you for not listening to the Listener's wishes," Jade teased.

     Cicero's eyes glossed over with tears as he looked back down at the dust in his palms. Ruby flinched as she felt his extreme sadness wash over her. It felt like needles all over her body. She gripped onto his arm tighter as if being electrocuted.

     "Don't be such a bitch!" Babette shouted as she stormed over to join them.

     "Excuse me!?" Jade snapped, "Do you hear that!? That sounds like the Dawnguard outside. Maybe someone told them where you were and they've come for you, you little bloodsucking brat!"

     "Something is clearly wrong!" Babette was not at all bothered by the threat. She pushed past Jade and grabbed Cicero's hands, lowering them so she could see.

     The devastated Keeper grew weak in the legs and slowly lowered to the ground, squeaking softly as he wept.

     Babette glanced over at the Night Mother seeing that several parts of her body were crumbling. She stepped around the kneeling fool and reached up to touch the mummified corpse gently; a piece of bone disintegrated into dust.

     "Mother is falling apart," Cicero choked in a weak voice, "The Keeper has failed.... failed Mother... failed the Brotherhood... CICERO HAS FAILED THE DREAD FATHER!"

     "Strange..." Babette mumbled, observing the dust particles in her hand, "Why now? You have been using the same oils to preserve her for over a decade... why now of all times?"

     Jade started feeling bad as she watched the devastation rolling down Cicero's red cheeks. Seeing a merry-man cry was very awkward.

     "...She didn't really say that... about the disappointment thing," Jade cleared her throat, "She actually hasn't said anything in a while."

     Cicero began sobbing harder; a look of failure stamped on his face. His sole reason for existence was quite literally crumbling before him.

     "Cicero shouldn't have left for so long... I fa-... failed you, Mother. How can she speak to the Listener through a corpse that isn't well-kept!? I'm the Keeper!! That's my job! That... was my job..."

     Ruby, her face flush and squinting her right eye, reached up and began wiping the tears from Cicero's face with her palm. He inhaled sharply trying to catch his breath and looked down at her. Her face reflected his pain.

     "Listen," Jade spoke up, "It's gonna be fine... I'm sure she will explain in time. Maybe you can wrap her up in linens for now-"

     "Like a damned draugr!?" Cicero snapped.

     "Cicero," Babette placed her hand on his shoulder, "Mother will understand. It's just to keep her together until we can figure out why this is happening."

     They all fell silent waiting for his reply. Barely able to speak, Cicero nodded slightly, wiping his face on his sleeve and slowly attempting to stand. Ruby closed her eyes and continued to hold tight to him, helping him up.

     Jade sighed and glanced at the casket. Maybe something really was wrong. She had heard much about the purifications of past sanctuaries when the Wrath of Sithis was invoked at the hands of its own members. Babette didn't seem overly concerned... though, she never seemed to show much emotion about anything. Cicero, on the other hand, was always on the verge of an emotional meltdown. She once witnessed him lose his mind over an old maid who mocked his attire while they were passing a farm south of Whiterun. Bludgeoned the old woman to death in broad daylight with her own shovel. Well, he had just been stung by a bee and hadn't eaten in several days... But he was always a moment away from snapping emotionally.

     Jade didn't want to watch him cry anymore. She turned to head out to get some mead at the local tavern and hopefully be left alone.

~

     Exiting the Sanctuary, Jade barely took three steps before she noticed a figure hunched over in the snow a few yards from the Black Door. A female Dunmer dressed in old Dark Brotherhood shrouded robes... a style that Jade was not familiar with. The elf's head was down and she appeared to be sleeping. Was she a new initiate? Nazir hadn't mentioned any new members passing the test. Where did she get the robes? Did she kill a former member and take them!? ...wouldn't be the first time.

     Jade slowly drew her sword and silently approached. She lifted her blade and angled it at the back of the intruder's neck. Inexplicably, the air rapidly grew warm and thick with humidity. Before Jade could react the Dunmer turned and thrust her hand out, a ball of fire surging from her palm. Jade managed to deflect the spell with her sword just before tumbling back into a snowdrift.

     "Shit!" the Dunmer gasped, quickly climbing to her feet, "I'm so sorry, Sister!" She ran over and held out her hand. Jade squinted up at her. Tall, thin, beautiful... skilled at magic. A few years younger than herself but in elven years that could easily be even younger. Her bust wasn't super impressive, but still... who was this chick?

     Jade refused the assistance and brushed the elf's hand away. "Who are you? Where did you come from?" she demanded as she got up on her own.

     The Dunmer fidgeted looking nervous but managed to compose herself quickly.

     "Sister Zukira," she spoke with forced confidence, "I was a member of the Cheydinhal Sanctuary in Cyrodiil many years ago."

     "Cyrodiil? All of the sanctuaries were purified," Jade gripped her sword tightly, "How are you still alive?"

     "Please... I... I can explain," Zukira stuttered, watching Jade's blade, "It's a long story, but I promise you, it's an honest one. I heard of the activities in Skyrim after the assassination of the Imperial Emperor-"

     "Ah!" Jade lowered her weapon and sheathed it, a proud smile curling across her lips, "Yeah, that was a good contract. Messy, but enjoyable."

     "Indeed, impressive, Sister-...?"

     "Jade. I'm the new Listener."

     "The Listener!?" Zukira gasped, her stature suddenly weakened, "There's a new Listener... By Sithis' name... does that mean that the Night Mother's body is safe?"

     Jade's smile faltered slightly. What a time to ask that question...

     "Of course!" she chuckled, "The Keeper has brought her to Skyrim and all is well..."

     "May I see her?" Zukira clasped her hands together anxiously.

     Jade's gaze drifted as she nodded. So much for that pint of mead and a night to herself. She gestured for the newcomer to follow back into the Sanctuary, her hand remaining on the hilt of her blade.

     "NAZIR!" Jade bellowed as she led Zukira through the corridors to the main landing, "We have a recruit!"

     "You all need to cut it with the shouting," he called back from the landing, "This place echoes, and frankly-" he paused when his eyes landed on Zukira, "What have we here?"

     Jade shrugged, "She says she's from the Cheydinhal Sanctuary. Something about a long story..."

     Nazir lifted the Dunmer's arm and inspected the worn robes. His eyes raised to meet hers.

     "Where have you been hiding, Sister?" he asked in a deep voice.

     "Vvardenfell," Zukira whispered sounding ashamed, "I..."

     "Do you know her?" Jade asked suddenly feeling interested.

     "No," Nazir replied, "I just know that all Dark Brothers and Sisters from the other sanctuaries were killed... with the exception of the Keeper."

     Zukira's eyes drifted over to the Night Mother's coffin. A look of sheer regret poured over her face as she rushed over and dropped to her knees before it.

     "Mother... Dearest Night Mother, I apologize..." she said under her breath, "I did not intend to be a traitor... I fled out of fear. I was a sorry excuse for an assassin... I'm so sorry for my inadequacies. Please, please forgive me."

     As Jade and Nazir watched, their questions mounted.

     "Whoa," Babette stepped around them to see the newcomer with arms full of linen wrappings and bottles of adhesives made from her brewing table. She placed them on the floor beside the casket and leaned to get a better look at Zukira. "Nice robes... Who is this?"

     Zukira lifted her head to meet her eyes, then glanced back at the others who were now joined by Cicero and Ruby.

     "We're not entirely sure yet," Nazir spoke, "But I'd like to know more."

     Zukira rose to her feet slowly, her eyes locked on Cicero. He stared back at her. His eyes were still red from crying, but his composure had returned.

     "Master Cicero..." the Dunmer gasped.

     "Master!?" Jade looked at the fool in surprise, "What is this now?"

     Nazir tightened his lips and frowned. He didn't like where this was going.

>>> New character added to the Character Guide Book: Zukira

Chapter Text

     Cicero continued to stare at Zukira with no sign of recognition in his eyes, yet she looked as if she could hardly contain her sudden excitement. She eagerly approached him and reached to touch his face, but refrained, taking a step back.

     "I was sure you were dead," she weakly, "I heard that everyone was killed..."

     Her obvious recollection of him was puzzling. Cicero studied her face but nothing seemed familiar.

     "Miss," he said, lightly bowing, "It's a pleasure to meet a new Dark Sister. I am the Keeper-"

     "Keeper..." Zukira gasped, "You're the one who protected the Night Mother." She suddenly knelt before him.

     "Whoa... okay," Jade spoke up, "That's really not necessary. He's just a crazy old fool who oils a corpse. No need to get all weird about this-"

     Cicero began to feel ill. His head throbbed as he struggled to make sense of this Dunmer's familiar voice and mannerisms. Ruby looked up at him trying to understand his sudden change of emotion.

     "Why... why are you dressed as a royal jester?" Zukira asked timidly as she rose back to her feet. Everyone in the room remained silent wondering how he would explain. They had all met him while he was dressed as a merry-man and had carried on the altered persona of such.

     "Why, because I am, dear Sister!" he chirped, his personality suddenly shifting, "Cicero is a jolly jester of the night! I am one to bring merriment and entertainment to anyone with heart!"

     The silence that followed was painfully awkward. Zukira wore a look of bewilderment. Was this really him? Was this really the same Cicero she remembered from before the fall of the Brotherhood? Once so well respected and disciplined; this man before her was anything but. This had to be a joke...

     "He's been through a lot," Babette finally interjected.

     "Cicero is our comic relief," Jade chuckled trying to clear the uneasy mood, "Delightfully mad. A spawn of Prince Sheogorath's sense of humor, if you will."

     Zukira took a small step back to look him over. Her heart sank. The disappointment was very clear in her eyes.

     "I see..." she sighed, "He's not Cicero anymore."

     "Of course I am!" Cicero cheered, "There is only one Cicero!" He bowed gracefully, Ruby automatically following the dip as she clung to his arm.

     Babette could sense something upsetting about their past and decided to intervene in the melancholy reunion.

     "Sister Zukira," she said taking her hand and leading her to the stairs, "Please tell us your story. We are assassins but we are also a family so we may forgive past transgressions"

     "Like Cicero," Nazir grumbled.

     Babette shot a glare over at him. Nazir nodded, acknowledging his inappropriate timing. They all headed down into the main chamber. Sage and a few of the other initiates joined out of curiosity.

     Zukira sat down at the table and brushed the hair from her face. Being surrounded by her new family proved to be intimidating but oddly comforting at the same time.

     "As you know already, my name is Zukira. I was an initiate at the Cheydinhal Sanctuary over a decade ago. I was still quite new when the riots began in Bravil," her eyes shifted up to Cicero, "I met Master Cicero there. He was already well disciplined with the blade and revered by the Black Hand."

     Cicero's attention peaked as he fought to recall his memories of that time. So much had happened since then. His mind, infected with madness from years of solitude, depression, and loneliness. The journals he kept proved her words to be true, but it felt like a different life; one that he didn't personally live.

     Zukira stared at him with uncertainty. Who was this man? This fool? He looked like a much older Cicero but his tone of voice, attire, and strange demeanor... Was he cursed with some sort of madness that blocked his memories of his sanity? Or was she truly that forgettable after all?

     "I volunteered to protect the Night Mother's tomb when the statue of the Lucky Old Lady was toppled," Zukira continued, "I... when the Listener was killed I began to truly fear death and... I fled the city. I abandoned my post and the Family to save my own sorry life."

     "Yet you have returned," Nazir said, crossing his arms, "Are you still seeking asylum? Or are you here for forgiveness?"

     "Forgiveness!" she sat up straight, "I'm done running. I'm done being a coward. I'm here to throw down my life for the Dread Father as he wills me to."

     Babette smirked, "What are your skills?"

     "I've spent my life training in the magic arts of destruction and conjuring," Zukira squared her shoulders showing a newfound confidence, "For the past decade I've been taking jobs as a sell-sword in Vvardenfell as I trained with blades. I was confronted by a member of the Morag Tong a few weeks ago about taking contracts from them. It was not my intention yet I was told to leave the province if I chose to continue my work. I had learned of the death of the Imperial Emperor. There were rumors that the Dark Brotherhood was making a comeback... so I packed up and headed here."

     "How did you know to come to Dawnstar?" Sage inquired.

     "There are only two known sanctuaries in Skyrim," Zukira explained, "Falkreath was recently purged."

     "Yeah," Nazir mumbled, "That was a pretty messy situation."

     "You are from Falkreath?" she asked sounding confused.

     "Nazir and I are," Babette answered matter-of-factually, "The previous Speaker was outed a traitor after Jade was chosen as the new Listener. Astrid didn't like the idea of going back to the old ways of the Night Mother's word. It threatened her sense of power."

     "She tried to have me killed," Jade huffed, "and tried to convince me that Cicero was the traitor. It didn't help that he's so batshit passionate and eccentric about every little thing. I almost killed him anyway-"

     Cicero snorted, "Oh, Listener. Cicero knew you couldn't do such a thing. You heard the voice of the Night Mother yourself. You knew I was telling the truth."

     "I was so ready to strangle you with your own intestines-"

     "You could have tried, but I guarantee poor Cicero had more than just a gauntlet of traps up his sleeve-" He chuckled.

     "You wanna test me?" Jade glared at him.

     "Oh-ho? The Listener would like to retake the exam?"

     "ENOUGH!" Nazir cut them off.

     Zukira glanced back and forth between Jade and Cicero. A new Listener. A new Cicero. A new sanctuary. A new Brotherhood. But she didn't feel new. She felt like the same frightened girl she always was. The wallflower; easily and always forgotten.

     "I'm... actually not feeling very well," she said quietly, "It has been a long trip."

     "Babette," Nazir instructed in a calming tone, "Please show Sister Zukira to the initiate quarters. We can go over re-orientation tomorrow."

     Babette nodded and motioned to Zukira to follow. Cicero leaned to watch then leave as he continued to ponder. He couldn't shake some horrible feeling in the back of his mind.

     "So, was that her?" Jade asked as the others departed.

     "Who?" Cicero turned to face her.

     "The love you mentioned before. You said something about having someone you once loved and you sacrificed them?"

     "Sacrif..." Cicero's head throbbed, "Indeed, Cicero recalls a love... but not a face. I don't remember her. I don't remember much of my past. Merely that I was working hard for Sithis and the Brotherhood... and still am."

     Ruby, still clinging to Cicero's arm, looked up at his face. He seemed like he was lost. His sadness and confusion began to make her feel ill. She slowly released him to suppress the nausea. She smiled slightly as she stepped away and turned to shuffle down the corridor to follow the new girl.

     Cicero watched her go, his expression shifting from confusion to curiosity.

     "Where's she off to?" Jade inquired, "She almost never leaves your side."

     "Curious, indeed," he replied, touching his hand to his arm where she had been hanging on him.

~

     Babette pulled some folded pelts off a shelf and placed them on a bed across from the one Ruby had been using which was formerly Cicero's. He had been bunking on the floor beside it since she didn't like being alone or away from him for long.

     "The initiates can sleep in any bed, but most claim one and keep their personal items under it," Babette informed.

     Zukira nodded in thanks and sat down to begin removing her shoes. Babette watched her for a moment but quickly sensed that she wanted to be alone and bowed subtly.

     "We are pleased to have you, Sister Zukira," she said and took her leave.

     Ruby stood in the doorway and watched the new girl removing her items and stashing them near the bed. There was a strange vibe coming from her and Ruby wanted to understand it. Zukira glanced up and they stared at one another for a long awkward moment.

     "Hi..." Zukira said softly, remembering her as the silent girl who clung to Cicero's arm, "What's your name?" 

     Ruby tottered over and sat down next to her like a nervous puppy. Zukira leaned away not sure what to make of it. She waited for a reply but got nothing.

     "Do you speak, young mer?" she asked, now noticing that she couldn't pinpoint this girl's race. She seemed to have the sweet disposition of a child but was clearly an adult. She must be mentally slow. Poor thing. How did she end up here of all places? Zukira knew that the Brotherhood often took in the unwanted and unloved, but she could tell that the strange-looking elven girl was not a fellow assassin. She didn't look like she could even slaughter her own hen for dinner. Her shackles and broken chains suggested a prisoner, but the fact that she was free to roam rose many questions. 

     "Do you like it here?" Zukira asked, trying to fill the awkward silence and lack of personal space between them, "What do you do here?"

     Ruby leaned in uncomfortably close and examined Zukira's face. She then lifted her hand up to touch her cheek as if trying to feel something. The initiate held still, noting how warm the girl's touch was. 

     Ruby closed her eyes feeling the same emotions she had felt while clinging to Cicero. A sense of being lost. Though, with Zukira, it felt more like a yearning. It was quite devastating. This new person knew Cicero. She had a deep love for him and it felt like she missed him intensely even though he was just in the next room. This confused Ruby. Why didn't they joyously reunite? Something felt... broken. She didn't like feeling this heartache, especially when it came from Cicero. Ruby also loved him and didn't want the pain to continue. She pouted her lips and gave Zukira a serious look before suddenly standing up to leave.

     "Bye...?" Zukira waved slightly feeling even more unease.

Chapter Text

     Assassins were known to be most active under the cover of night. So, it was not at all odd that the sanctuary was vacant and silent at that moment. One would assume the place to still be abandoned. It was a particularly cold eve, so any initiates who were not out on contracts were wrapped up in pelts and linens in their beds.

     After making sure that Ruby was asleep, Cicero quietly made his way out to the main hall and sat before the large hearth. His jester attire ripped and worn from years of use, did nothing to keep him warm since he had arrived in Skyrim many months prior. He tried not to complain. It was his choice to wear the tattered motley and saw the frigid chill as just another form of perpetual punishment for himself; punishment for his sins.

     On his knees, Cicero removed his jester's cap and flipped it around in his hands, inspecting it by the light of the fire. He tugged at the loose threads and sighed.

     "Foolish Cicero," he mumbled to himself, "You have one duty and one alone. You are tasked with protecting the Night Mother at all costs. And what did you do!? You foiled it!" he clenched his fingers into the fabric, "She will never forgive you. Unforgivable. Cicero is unworthy. Undeserving. Surely the wrath of Sithis awaits for this failure."

     He trembled and bit his lip as he pulled at the ears of his hat with tears forming in his eyes.

     "Cicero spent his pathetic life in the service of the Dread Father and for what?! OH! Befuddle! What is your problem, old man?!" His voice echoed off the high ceiling, "You're no longer a taker. No longer a keeper. You are a fooooool, sir!"

     Cicero's head began to swim as he clenched his teeth and flung the jester's cap into the fire. He leaned forward onto his hands, his long red hair hanging down over his face. A low chuckle grew from deep within his throat.

     "He was never cut out for this. No, noooo. Poor Cicero was not meant for such an honor. He was bound to flounder this. It was just a matter of time... Mother knew. Oh, yes, she knew. THAT'S why she didn't see him fit to be Listener. Pathetic Cicero wanted it too much. Judgment clouded; he was blinded by passion. It was no longer about the job... it was about the love. Cicero wanted to be loved. He wanted to be accepted by the Night Mother. To hear those sweet precious words..."

     Cicero lifted his head to look at the smoldering remains of the cap as it burned. He grabbed the breast of his tunic, clenching it tightly as he rocked back and forth neurotically.

     "My heart... my head..." he moaned, "Cicero needs release... This can't last. I can't do this much longer..."

     Cicero's arms fell limply at his sides. He threw his head back, staring at the dark ceiling as his hand drifted to the dagger on his hip. He wrapped his fingers around the hilt and slowly drew it from its sheath. He rolled his head forward and gazed down at the ebony blade in his hand, the flames shimmering on its sharpened edge.

     "How I miss the hunt, the planning, the plotting, the watching, the stalking... the blood. Oh, I miss the blood and the feeling of the silent kill as my blade slides into a contract's spine, smooth like butter..."

     He lifted the blade to his lips and closed his eyes, smelling the metal.

     "Memories... sweet, sweet... like nectar behind Cicero's eyes, they play like dreams."

     Cicero's eyes suddenly shot open as the image of the jester formed in his mind; His final contract before becoming Keeper. The laughter bounced around in his head and he felt a throbbing pain in his temple.

     "He can't be here!" He moaned and grabbed his forehead, "Cicero is the jester, the jester is he... a gift of laughter from the Dread Father to heal my pain. Laughter to cure the sadness."

     The laughter in his ears grew louder. He dropped his dagger on the stone hearth to cover his ears with both hands.

     "Thank you, Father! Cicero promises not to be sad! Cicero is pleased with his role! Cicero is pleased to be Keeper! Cicero is happy! I promise!" He cried, digging his fingers into his head, "Please! No more laughter!"

     Cicero closed his eyes tightly as the laughter echoed in his brain. Tears poured down his face as he too began to chuckle. He smiled ecstatically through clenched teeth while the pounding in his head continued. The deafening noise in his mind twisted from laughter to screaming. His fingers dug deep into the sides of his head as he tried desperately to block out the sounds. The screaming turned to sobbing.

     Suddenly, Cicero felt something warm embrace him. The sounds instantly stopped as he took a sharp breath in to catch his breath. The residual echo of his own cries faded in the dining hall. The sound of the fire crackling was all that remained. Cicero opened his eyes. Ruby was wrapped around him tightly, her head on his chest. His mind was completely empty. The voices were gone. The headaches were gone.

     Ruby gripped onto her friend with such force for her tiny muscles as she felt the surge of agony and torment filter through her. She could hardly breathe, choking quietly on the intensity of his insanity. It hurt more than anything she'd ever experienced in her life. Her brain flashed with existential terrors and deep cold darkness.

~

     The warmth of Cicero's body faded and she suddenly felt like she was falling. It was too much. She couldn't take any more of this empathy. Her right eye began to throb. Ruby reached her hand up to cover it when suddenly the pain stopped. She opened her eyes and inexplicably found herself sitting at a long wooden table covered with various types of sweets and cheeses.

     "My, Dear!" the accented voice of a man spoke from nearby, "Could you pass the butter?"

     Ruby lowered her hand from her eye and saw an older gentleman with peppery white hair sitting across from her. She somehow understood his words. The air smelled of an odd mixture of sweetness and mold and felt very warm and humid though the wind was cool and dry. The trees to her left were withered and petrified while the trees to her right were colorful and vibrant. Everything was but also wasn't... what was this place?

     "Oh, this place?" the gentleman spoke, "Why, this is Cheesemonger's Hollow, pale mortal. A wee pocket realm of the Shivering Isles. Yes, the Isles. A wonderful place! Except when it's horrible. Then it's horribly wonderful. Good for a visit. Or for an eternity... which is how long I've been waiting for you to pass the butter."

     Ruby stared at the man in shock. It was as if he was reading her thoughts. She quickly reached across the table and grabbed a small bowl with what appeared to be a thick dollop of butter inside and held it out to him.

     "I wasn't expecting you of all people," the man continued as he used a knife to casually spread the butter on his open palm, "A Falmer. Though I have to admit, you are easily the prettiest little Falmer I've seen in many eras."

     Ruby was unable to focus on the peculiar compliment as she watched him slathering the butter between his fingers.

     "I suppose an introduction is in order," the strange man said and stood up. He leaned over the table with his buttered hand out, "Name's Sheogorath, Daedric Prince of Madness. You may have heard of me, or at least my profession, considering the circumstances."

     Ruby stared at his hand; her heart began to race with confusion and fear.

      "Come on, then," he wiggled his fingers, "It's a hand, not a mud crab!"

     She quickly reached out and shook it, the butter squishing between their palms.

     "See that!? Fast friends! We're already finishing each other's handwiches!"

     Sheogorath rounded the table to get closer to his visitor. Ruby felt frozen with fear as he reached down and lifted her chin with the side of his finger to examine her face. The strange man smiled at her behind opaque white eyes.

     "Oh, no. This will not do," he shook his head, "You are not meant to be here. This is not your madness."

     Ruby trembled. Who was this man? His touch was cold as ice on her skin.

     "I told you who I was, child!" he laughed, grabbing a walking cane from thin air and leaning on it, "It's you who is in question. Are you a stowaway? Whose crazy train ticket did you swipe?"

     None of this made any sense. Ruby felt like she was in a dream. Where was Cicero? She was afraid for herself but also for him-

     "Cicero?" Sheogorath interrupted, "Cicero Eudoxius of Cold Harbor? Or Cicero Vitellia of Bruma? It's a common imperial name-"

     Ruby's eyes widened hearing his name out loud.

     "The ginger chap? Ah yes, the silly boy who was tortured by the memories of a jester. That was a fun one, indeed." He clicked his tongue and squinted off into the distance. "It's a shame. He was quite a piece of work. Like a prize pumpkin at the Shivering Isle fair. Shame shame."

     Ruby felt even more confused. What happened to him? She tried to save him from his pain and suddenly she was here and he was not. Was he alright?

     "Oh, yes. He's fine. Better than fine. Your little empath curse fixed his brain. All that work..." Sheogorath shook his head and frowned. He stood there silently thinking for a few seconds.

     "Ah well, there's always more fun to be had in new recruits. He was a hoot to work with, though. Very stabby and the like," he suddenly bowed to the frightened girl, "Now, you should be off like the wind, solving problems and doing good deeds!" he lifted his strange walking stick and bopped her in the side of the head with it. She flinched only for a second but when her eyes fluttered open again she found herself back in Cicero's arms.

     Cicero held Ruby's face in his hands. She blinked a few times staring back at him as she tried to catch her bearings. His expression was full of concern, but she no longer felt his intense surge of emotion from before.

     "Miss Ruby... are you alright?" he asked in a quiet tone.

     She smiled and hugged him tightly. Whatever it was that had just happened, she was just happy that her friend was okay.

     "You were shaking, I thought you-" he didn't finish. Her warm embrace and the sudden clarity of his head felt so comforting. He held her and stared into the fireplace at the last bits of the charred jester's cap. A flash of vivid memories flowed through his mind. He felt like he was living every moment at once all over again. What happened? Where had he been all this time? Who was he now? Cicero could feel the warm tears rolling down his cheeks as he closed his eyes, suddenly feeling overwhelmed as his mind was violently thrown back into sanity.

>>> New character added to the Character Guide Book: Sheogorath

Chapter Text

     Zukira squinted her crimson eyes as she drew back her bowstring. She stared down the arrow to the hay target on the other side of the training room. Archery was not her thing. She was much more confident with pyromancy; it just came naturally. But being back in a Sanctuary and in the presence of her former superior, Cicero... or whoever he was now... she knew she needed to prove herself. 

     Archery was one of Cicero's best skills. Zukira had admired his seemingly effortless ability with the bow while training under him at the Cheydinhal Sanctuary almost a decade ago. His finesse was a big part of what attracted her to him. Zukira felt as if she owed it to the Family to make something of herself. She wanted to climb the ranks and prove that she was not a lost cause. Now was the best time for it since the Brotherhood was fractured and in the process of rebuilding. If Zukira could just prove that she was worthy of their acceptance... re-acceptance...

     No more wallflower. No more awkward quiet girl who ran from battle. 

     "Unlock your knee," a male voice spoke from behind her. Zukira flinched in surprise but didn't lose form. It was Cicero. "You'll make a better assassin when you learn to monitor your surroundings. You should have heard me approaching-"

     "Your stealth made your approach impossible to detect," Zukira lowered her bow and glanced back at him. He was dressed in the Skyrim faction armor with his long red hair combed back cleanly. He looked more like how she'd remembered him... just much older.

     Cicero stood with his arms limp at his sides. His expression was tired but carried a hint of sadness. It was quite a contrast from the day before. The bizarre and unnerving merryman was gone. But this wasn't the eccentric and enthusiastic young assassin she remembered either. Life happened, and it happened hard.

     "I'm sorry, Sister Zukira," he said quietly.

     Zukira turned to completely face him. She wasn't sure what to say. What was he apologizing for? If anything, she was the one who needed to beg for forgiveness.

     "Sorry...? You did nothing wrong, Brother," she replied in a shaky tone, "You single-handedly held the Family together. You saved the Night Mother from desecration-"

     "I'm sorry if I hurt you," Cicero interrupted, "It wasn't my intention. I was selfish. I wanted to impress the Black Hand so bad that I became lost in my own ego and-"

     "You are anything but selfish!" Zukira's voice was firm for the first time since she'd arrived, "You're selfless ways are what saved us-"

     "Saved us? Saved who? Everyone is dead," Cicero's stature grew tense, "It all fell around me... I was helpless to do anything but watch my family killed off one by one! I worked so hard to hold everything together. One thing after another, everything went wrong. It was madness! ...I just wanted Mother to speak to me. I wanted to hear her voice... Sheogorath himself wouldn't let me forget the things I'd sacrificed. In the end, it was all a joke and I was the punchline."

     Zukira's grip on her bow tightened as she listened. His words tore at her. She had no idea how deep this went.

"And I often find myself wondering what was it all for?" he softened his tone, "Why do we sacrifice so much of ourselves...?"

     Silence passed between them as he waited for an answer that would never come. Zukira stared timidly into his amber eyes. She'd never seen him so distraught. He was always the positive one; always focused and ready to help. He lived to serve the Dark Brotherhood... but now he was clearly questioning his own devotion.

     "T-thank you..." Zukira replied gently. 

     Cicero's intense expression softened and his eyes widened a little. "Thank- what do you mean?" he inquired.

     "I don't think anyone has ever thanked you before..."

     "For what?"

     "Well, for anything. For everything," Zukira smiled weakly, "You've lived a thankless life and you've asked nothing of others."

     "My services don't require words of appreciation. I made all the choices in my life and they are my responsibility. None of it was a burden to me. I regret nothing."

     "That's not what I mean," she fidgeted with the bow, "I'm thanking you for everything you've done for others that you believe doesn't deserve praise. Most people only do things for recognition and reward. The fact that you don't even want a thank you for your services and sacrifices for the Brotherhood proves that you are not a selfish person."

     Cicero stared at her. He opened his mouth to reply but nothing came. Zukira rapidly became nervous and began to regret being so blunt with her superior, fearing that she may have upset him. "I'm sorry. I hope I didn't step out of bounds with what I said-"

     "There," Cicero suddenly blurted out and pointed at her, "What you just said. I came here to apologize for ignoring you. This isn't about me."

     Zukira's anxiousness rose. She'd been thinking about it for years; how much she adored and admired him. How he greeted her with instant acceptance when she joined the Cheydinhall Sanctuary in a time of so much pain and loss. He made her feel like she belonged. But when she started developing true feelings for him, she noticed him turn cold and distant. He would even go as far as to leave the room when she'd enter. He would talk through others to communicate with her. She was never able to figure out what she had done to push him away.

     "I liked you..." Cicero said, cautiously stepping closer, "I liked you a lot. I liked you so much that I couldn't think straight when I'd see you."

     Zukira's eyes filled with tears. The words were like needles in her heart. This revelation made her dizzy.

     "I wanted to be close to you," he continued, taking another step, "You made me feel things that I'd never felt for another person before... and I saw that as a distraction."

     Zukira felt like she was going to faint. The truth hurt. The entire time she thought that he had rejected her because she was a failure. Because she had no potential. She had been forgotten and rejected so often in her youth that it had become a natural thing for her. She had learned to just shut up and make herself invisible. Keep her head down and not be noticed. Which ironically worked in her favor while training to be an assassin.

     Now she knew. Cicero had felt the same about her.

     "I'm sorry, Zukira. I was selfish."

     Zukira bit her lips together as she stared at the floor. She didn't know what to say. Her emotions were so mixed. She felt intimidated, dejected, and relieved all at the same time. She felt her face grow warm and her legs grow weak. 

     Cicero reached out and touched her arm. She turned her head away and closed her eyes; her mind was racing. She didn't feel worthy of his touch, let alone his attention. Cicero leaned to look at her face. She was trembling. Zukira finally opened her eyes to look back at him. It was clear how uncomfortable she was. Had this poor girl never been loved?

     Cicero smirked a little. He wasn't very familiar with the concept himself. He'd given all of his love and devotion to the Brotherhood his entire life. He was loved in return by his Dark Siblings, but never to the extent that he saw in Zukira. He had forgotten this through his years of madness. Cicero carefully reached out and pulled her thin, and notably taller, frame into a hug.

     "I'm so sorry," he repeated quietly.

     "Thank you," she whispered, slowly lifting her arms to embrace him too.

     The words both of them needed to hear most, uttered by the one they needed to hear it most from.

     "What in Oblivion am I interrupting?" Nazir's deep voice mumbled as he lumbered into the training hall.

     Zukira quickly released Cicero expecting to be shoved away, but he continued to hold her.

     "Should I come back later?" Nazir groaned.

     "No, sir!" Zukira gasped. Cicero finally stepped away as she quickly fumbled with her bow again. "I'm ready for orientation, my Speaker! I've been practicing all morning..." she sounded out of breath. Cicero grinned and crossed his arms.

     "Whose armor is that?" Nazir asked, looking him over.

     "Not sure," Cicero chuckled, "His face was so badly burned, I couldn't identify him."

     "Not funny."

     Zukira glanced back and forth between them, not understanding. Was this an inside joke? Perhaps it was none of her business to inquire.

     Amused, Cicero popped his tongue on the roof of his mouth, nodding at him repeatedly as if he had a tune in his head. Nazir squinted. He never liked Cicero; not even for a second. But this clown was dressing as an actual Dark Brotherhood member now which could cause some confusion in the public eye if he started acting out the way he usually did. Though Nazir had to admit, the fool was acting strange, even for Cicero.

     Zukira smiled as her superior dramatically saluted Nazir and turned on his heel to leave the training hall. That seemed more like the Cicero she remembered.

     Nazir groaned. Trying to put the illusion of fear and order of the Dark Brotherhood back in the minds of the people of Skyrim would be challenging while having a madman donning the classic attire and making a joke out of it. At least with the jester garb, no one would assume he was part of the Family. Nazir decided that he should have a talk with the Listener about Cicero's... change in appearance.

Chapter Text

     The main hall of the Sanctuary was filled with the spicy aroma of seasoned meat stew that Initiate Sage had spent all day tending to. He leaned over the pot and poked at some of the large meaty bits with a wooden spoon.

     "Shouldn't be too much longer," he wiped his brow with his sleeve and glanced over at Ruby who was standing nearby with her arms behind her back observing attentively. She loved to watch him cook each day and her level of interest was surprising to him. It seemed that she was attached to Cicero at the hip all the time until dinner was being prepared. Sage decided to take that as a sign of affection.

     "Would you like to taste it?" he asked grinning at her. Ruby beamed a wide genuine smile in return. Sage knew she was unable to understand him yet he still felt it was important to try. Like a child, she could perhaps learn over time by listening. His hopes of her ever replying were a bit less since she had yet to utter a single noise since her arrival weeks before.

     Sage dipped the wooden spoon into the bubbling stew and held it out to her. Oddly, instead of taking it, Ruby leaned forward and popped her tongue out to lick the edge. Sage's expression shifted as he awkwardly held the utensil.

     His eyes shot over to the dining table where Jade was sitting and looking through some books that he had left there. Thankfully, she hadn't noticed.

     "What's all this nonsense?" Jade called over, flipping some pages, "I can't read any of it."

     Sage quickly composed himself and went back to stirring, "It's ancient mer language."

     "I never figured you to be interested in that stuff," she replied and shoved the stack of books away.

     "Well, if you haven't noticed, I am a Bosmer..."

     "Well, I'm a Nord and you don't see me sifting through old books about... Nord stuff."

     "It's for Ruby," Sage put the lid back on the pot.

     "She can read?"

     "Probably not... but I'm trying to learn her language- or the language of her people, to see if I can communicate with her better," he explained.

     Jade chuckled, "Why? So you can flirt in and get rejected in another language?"

     Sage opened his mouth to reply but paused as he saw Nazir coming down the steps across the room. 

     "Listener, I've been meaning to speak with you," Nazir said as he approached the table.

     "Of course, Speaker. You speak, I listen," Jade smirked, pleased with her joke.

     "How clever," he sighed and took a seat across from her, "We need to talk about your Cicero."

     "My Cicero?" she cocked her brow, "Yuck, I don't own him. And if I do, I want my money back."

     "He's your companion. You let him live. You allowed him back into the Sanctuary-"

     "Sparing him was the right thing to do," Jade said under her breath, "He was speaking the truth-"

     Nazir shook his head and held his hand up, "That's in the past. I need to talk to you about what he's doing now."

     "Good Lord Sithis," she groaned, "I'm not his keeper, either."

     "I am aware of this, my Listener, but have you seen him lately?"

     Jade squinted one eye trying to think, "Not really. Frankly, I've been enjoying his absence in this downtime..."

     "Oh, he's not absent. He's different." Nazir explained, "He's dressing in shrouded armor and speaking in-..."

     Jade folded her hands on the table and stared, waiting for him to finish. "Riddles?" she asked, "Limericks? Ancient tongues?" she nodded to the books on the table between them.

     "...A normal manner."

     "...okay?"

     "I mean, he's not acting like a clown anymore. He's speaking in natural sentences and no longer referring to himself in the third person. He's no longer dancing randomly in the halls, which, I honestly have no complaints about. That nonsense was getting on my last nerve," Nazir rubbed his face.

     "So, you're saying he's not acting annoying?" Jade chuckled, "and you're upset about this... why?"

     "I'm not upset, so much as concerned," he continued, "His sudden shift in personality is perplexing, sure... but I feel that something is wrong and I want you to keep an eye on it."

     "Cicero is random. That's just what he does. He's probably messing with us-"

     "I think the Night Mother starting to disintegrate has something to do with this."

     "Yeah, that actually has me concerned as well," Jade lowered her voice.

     "He began acting strange the day it started and it's only escalated. I'd rather his 'random' behavior not have a negative impact on our attempt to rebuild the Brotherhood."

     Jade nodded in agreement. She knew that Cicero was going to end up being a problem, but it happened much sooner than she thought.

     Sage grabbed some wooden bowls and Ruby knew that was the signal that it was time to eat. She skipped down the hall and into the living quarters to find Cicero. She had a feeling of pride being part of the lovely meals that they'd been having lately. Every night there was something new and unique that her taste buds had never experienced before. She remembered growing up eating a bitter-tasting fungus with her brothers and sisters. It made her mouth tingle and her vision blur. She always felt thirsty right after. There wasn't much variety for the slaves of the Dwemer in the way of culinary selection.

     Ruby rounded the corner into the initiate quarters and immediately froze. Cicero was sitting on a bed in his underwear beside the new girl, speaking in a quiet tone. The initiate placed her hand on his chest. Ruby felt the hairs on the back of her neck raise and she quickly dipped back out of the room before they saw her. She pressed her back against the wall beside the door and held her breath as her eyes filled with tears. 

     What was he doing? Why was he so close to the new girl and looking at her like that? Ruby always slept next to him at night. She always shared his bed and he always held her close as her big brother used to. It made her feel special and protected. So why was he sharing a bed with the initiate!? Why was she touching him like that!?

     She slid down the wall and hugged her knees. Did he no longer love her? Did Cicero find a new girl to protect? Ruby's mind was racing. She felt it had to be her fault for spending more time away from him. Maybe she made him feel unwanted. Maybe she was the one who pushed him into the arms of another girl.

     "Ruby...?" Jade asked in a concerned tone as she came down the hall, "... are you crying?" She'd never seen the little elf cry before. Ruby never expressed anything less than a kind smile. Even with the injuries she had endured from the collapse of the ruins, she never showed distress. Something was very wrong.

     Jade knelt down and brushed Ruby's cheek with her thumb as if she was unconvinced that there were actually tears there. "What happened, kiddo?" she asked knowing that she couldn't reply. Jade leaned to look into the room she was perched outside of to see the offending party.

     Cicero quickly noticed Jade and paused. They locked eyes as she slowly rose to her feet. Zukira glanced over her shoulder to see what he was looking at.

     "Oh, I see," Jade crossed her arms, "Only here a few days and the initiate is already in bed with the Keeper and trying to climb the social ladder-"

     "Listener, we're just talking-" Cicero began to explain but noticed Ruby peek her tear-stained face around the corner.

     "Get your ass off of her bed and put some damn clothes on," Jade hissed, "We have to go."

     "Go?" Cicero stood and headed over to his side of the room and began putting on the rest of his armor.

     "...eh- Riften. I've got some business to tend to with the Thieves' Guild. Brynjolf is waiting."

     "Why do you need me?"

     "Are you questioning the Listener?" Jade clenched her fists.

     "Of course not!" Cicero chuckled lightly, buckling his belt, "It just seems rather sudden."

     Jade glared at Zukira who awkwardly stood from the bed, not sure what to do, "As for you, initiate... You need to learn your place if you want to make it far with us."

     Cicero sheathed his dagger just as Jade snapped her fingers at him and pointed to the hall to hurry him up. He said nothing and quickly gathered the rest of his gear before exiting the room. He felt like an embarrassed teenager whose mother walked in on him trying to make a move on a girl. Cicero paused and glanced at Ruby who was hiding behind Jade. The tears on her cheeks sparkled in the light from the candles on the wall. He felt a tightness in his chest knowing that it would be impossible to explain anything to her.

     "Go eat!" Jade turned and snapped at him, "We're leaving in an hour!"

     "Yes, Listener."     

     Cicero was unsure how to deal with all these females surrounding him. He cringed a little and decided it was best to just remove himself from the situation rather than continue to question it. Perhaps leaving the Sanctuary for a few days would help him get his head together after all the recent changes. Working with so many other people hadn't been something he'd had to deal with in a very long time and it was getting quite overwhelming. He made his way to the main hall leaving Ruby quivering in the corridor. 

     "Listen," Jade said in a low tone as she turned to Zukira, "I don't know your history with that nutcase, but it's not going to continue. He's an indentured servant of Sithis and is not to be distracted by the likes of-" she paused and gestured broadly toward the initiate, "...whoever you are."

     "U-understood, my Listener,"

     "You are not to touch him, flirt with him, distract him, talk to him, or even LOOK at him. He has a job to do and so do you. Am I clear, Sister?"

     "As the waters of Lake Rumare, my Listener," Zukira spoke softly.

     Jade was quite surprised and slightly disappointed by how easy that was. Usually, when she had a beef with another female, there'd be a big standoff; especially if a man was involved. N-not that Jade was remotely interested in Cicero. He was a stupid fool with a stupid fashion sense and made terrible jokes. He reminded her of her father... well, what she could remember of him. Besides, if she wanted the idiot, she'd just have him. Sure, that failed intimate encounter at the river was not what she had intended, but he's a fool, remember? Only a dupe with no brain would turn a woman like Jade down. 

     Interrupting Cicero and Zukira by ordering a sudden trip to Riften may have been Jade's panicked attempt to separate the two, but it would also be her chance to re-establish control and put Cicero in his place. 

     "Alright, then..." Jade mumbled as she looked around the room for anything else to be angry about. When nothing stood out, she nodded confidently and turned to leave.

     "Oh!" she glanced back, "I'll be sure to have Nazir scrape up some 'special' contracts to test your fortitude. Don't go getting yourself killed right away. I'd really like to get to know you... as I'm sure you'd like to get to know me because who wouldn't?"

     Zukira forced a weak smile. Jade sneered back at her.

     "Ah, and apologize to Ruby. She's in the hallway crying because you attempted to seduce her best friend. Be gentle. She has the mind of a child and doesn't understand words."

     Zukira lowered herself to sit on the bed again as the Listener left the room. Seeing how Cicero practically crumbled when Jade spoke made her feel uneasy. She knew it would be an adjustment, but it still felt like she didn't belong. Zukira felt like an unwanted outsider.

     She glanced up to see Ruby standing in the doorway wiping her face. Their eyes met. Zukira said nothing as she also tried to hold her emotions in check. Apologizing to the strange elf girl served no purpose. The damage was done, whatever that was... and she wouldn't understand anyway.

     After a few moments, Ruby turned and took off down the hall out of view. Zukira was alone once again.

Chapter Text

     The trip to Riften was a long and quiet one. Neither Cicero nor Jade attempted to carry a conversation, which was strange since neither of them ever knew when to shut up. Truth was, Jade had no business in Riften at that moment. She had made that up on the spot to interrupt the situation with Cicero and Zukira and had no way to follow up other than actually going. She was used to flying by the seat of her pants anyway. Growing up in the Rift, she had plenty of friends and acquaintances about so she was confident that there'd be something to do. Not a big deal.

     Jade dismounted Shadowmere, the Dark Brotherhood Void horse, and began collecting her items from the satchel. Out of breath, Cicero finally caught up on foot. He took his punishment well and didn't complain much beyond his gasps and grunts of exhaustion. Jade smiled as she watched him struggle to make it up the hill with what little energy he had left. Though, his body looked quite toned in that shrouded armor. She'd never really noticed with the way he used to dress. He could kinda pass as a real man now. Kinda.

     "Hurry up, I'm thirsty," she called to him.

     Cicero leaned into a weak jog as he made it to her and was handed a small bag of supplies.

     "I know people here, so don't embarrass me. You know the drill," she mumbled.

     "Of course, Listener."

     The setting sun was casting long shadows across the road into Riften and the street merchants were closing up shop for the night. Everyone seemed to be heading to the Bee and Barb; one of the local taverns at the center of town. Jade could already smell the mead.

     As they entered the establishment, the evening came alive with joyous bard music and local banter. Everyone was merry and actively getting drunk, pleased to have gotten through another workday in the Rift. Jade made her way over to the barkeep and removed a couple of septims from her coin pouch, tapping them on the counter.

     "Black-Briar's finest for my traveling companion and I!" she called over the noise. Cicero joined her at the bar and scanned over the room noting that the clientele was mostly laborers and merchants. Riften was the home of the Skyrim Thieves Guild. Nothing happened in this town without them knowing or having a hand in it, so it was very likely that everyone in the tavern had some shady business practices in one way or another.

     The barkeep slid two tankards of mead across the bar and scooped up the coins. Jade handed one to Cicero before turning to check the room for faces she might recognize. Cicero cradled his drink with both hands and stared down into the dark honey-based liquid. This all was starting to feel a bit fishy.

     "Listener," he tapped her on the shoulder, "Shouldn't we check in with Brynjolf before we drink?"

     Jade laughed, "He doesn't care. Neither should you. Drink."

     Cicero watched her chug the mead before slowly sipping his own. He was beginning to think that there was no real objective to this trip, and if there was, it wasn't business-related as Jade had implied.

     Over the next twenty minutes, Jade managed to down two more tankards with no signs of slowing down. The woman clearly enjoyed her brew. As Cicero was just starting on his second, he began to realize that he may need to keep an eye on his superior. She was starting to draw unnecessary attention to herself with loud outbursts to other patrons.

     "I thought that voice sounded familiar!" a snooty-looking Imperial called from across the tavern. He was dressed in mid-quality mage's robes and was waving, eagerly trying to get Jade's attention through the crowd.

     Jade noticed and quickly turned away. She shielded her face with her hand and grimaced. "Shit..." she hissed and glanced at Cicero, "It's him. Don't look."

     On reflex, Cicero leaned past her to see and try and figure out what the problem was. The man didn't appear threatening. 

     "I said don't look!" Jade snapped and turned to look as well, "Shit, he's coming over..."

     "Who is he?"

     "Marcurio. We have a.... history."

     "Interesting," Cicero chuckled and sipped his drink coyly.

     The mage finally pushed his way over and put his hands on his hips, shaking his head at Jade.

     "I'd know that blue hair anywhere," he smirked, "Ah, Lady Jade. I've noticed you've made quite a name for yourself the last few years," he said in a pompous tone.

     "Ha!" she belted out, "You could say that! Forgive me, I've been so busy saving the world and all, I haven't heard anything about the up-and-coming apprentice wizard, Marcurio. Have you reached adept yet?"

     "Funny," he muttered and crossed his arms, "I want my ring back."

     "I sold it," Jade said as Cicero handed her a fresh drink.

     Marcurio noticed and frowned, "You sure have a thing for Imperials, eh?"

     "What?" Jade and Cicero replied in unison.

     "Did she flash her amulet of Mara to you yet, brother?" Marc inquired, placing his hand on Cicero's shoulder. Cicero glanced over at Jade with a tight-lipped smile. It was all beginning to make sense.

     "Okay, that's enough!" Jade grabbed Marc's sleeve and pulled his hand away from her companion, "Cicero and I have been happily married for years and you're not going to get between us."

     "Whoa," Marcurio looked as if he had been slapped in the face.

     "Sir," Cicero looked just as bewildered,  "I'm not-"

     "Years!?" Marc snapped, "You were cheating on me for that long!?"

     Jade grinned wickedly. She liked his reaction. The situation suddenly went from being awkward to mischievously fun. She placed her arm around Cicero and pressed her hip against him.

     "Oh, I suppose so. I was so busy being a hero and making a living that I must have forgotten that I was already married."

     Marcurio gasped over-dramatically, a look of horror on his face. "But what about our baby girl!? Have you forgotten about her as well!?" he pouted.

     Cicero glanced at Jade. She was laughing so hard, no noise was even coming out. What in Oblivion was going on here? What kind of family drama was he being pulled into? Why hadn't Jade ever mentioned a husband or daughter before?

     "You mean Blue?" she was finally able to blurt out, "That mutt?"

     "What? Whoa," Cicero finally interjected. It's one thing to bust her ex-husband's balls, but a whole nother to start trash-talking a child. Her own kid at that-

     "It's a dog," Jade cackled, patting Cicero on the head, "A stupid dog!"

     "We found her on our wedding honeymoon!" Marc cried, "You said she was like our child!"

     "Marc, lay off the skooma, hon. You need to move on," Jade said, wiping a tear of laughter from the corner of her eye.

     "Well, you were right about one thing," he grunted, "Blue definitely took after you! You are both bitches!"

     Jade burst into laughter again almost spilling her drink. Cicero wasn't sure what to do. The more upset Marcurio got, the more Jade laughed... and the more Jade laughed, the more Marcurio grew upset. It was rather amusing, but this was a bad place to start trouble; too many witnesses.

     Jade suddenly slammed her cup on the bar and turned, grabbing Cicero's face and pulling him into an aggressive and sloppy kiss. Cicero stiffened up. He froze trying not to drop his drink.

     Marcurio stomped his foot in rage, "Unbelievable! Have you no shame!?"

     Jade wiped her mouth with the back of her hand before smiling and turning to her ex, "You want to take this outside, love?"

     "...Outside?" he mumbled, "Are you challenging me to a duel!?"

     "Not me," Jade reached down and grabbed Cicero's ass tightly, causing him to flinch, "Cicero is. Winner takes all."

     Marcurio looked him over, quickly sizing him up, "Oh, he has a name? Cicero, is it?" he scoffed, "A duel with this pip-squeak? Deal. I'll take you in the alley beside the Honeyside stead in five minutes."

     Jade could hardly contain her excitement; her smile was so huge she couldn't close her mouth. Cicero waited for Marcurio to leave before smacking Jade's hand away from his ass.

     "Listener, this isn't the best way to NOT draw attention to our business-" he paused when Jade grabbed his face again, pinching his cheeks playfully.

     "Kill him," she instructed between giggles.

     "Your ex-husband?"

     "Well, technically he's not my ex... yet. So do me this solid and kill him!" she was rocking on her heels eagerly, causing her prominent cleavage to bounce almost hypnotizingly. Jade may not have liked to get her hands dirty, but she was well aware of the powerful tools she had at her disposal to get the job done.

     Cicero raised his tankard to his lips as he watched her bounce and quickly finished off his drink before setting it down on the bar. He glanced up at the door Marcurio had just exited through and bit his upper lip in thought.

     "Alright," he finally said, "Order me another. I'll be right back."

     "Yee!" Jade cheered and smacked his ass as he moved past her.

     Cicero paused and glanced back at her with a disappointed expression.

     "It's the leather," she shrugged and turned to order another round.

~

     Cicero exited the Bee and Barb taking note of the guards' patrol routes. He could already see Marcurio down the dark alley flicking a fire spell in his hand. It almost didn't seem fair. This poor foolish mage fell for Jade's manipulative ways so many times that it was about to end him up in the Void. If only Cicero could see that he had somehow also fallen under that same spell.

     The soon-to-be ex-husband was clearly ready for a fight. Only equipped with his dagger, Cicero knew that it was unwise to fight a mage head-on, especially within city limits... and on purpose. But this naive student of magic must not have studied the laws of combat beyond his own subject training. Deadly mistake.

     Cicero silently moved past the alley and around the side of a general goods store. With the stealth of a shadow, he quickly scaled the wall and pulled himself up onto the roof. He grunted as he felt something pop in his shoulder realizing that he wasn't as young as he used to be. He had neglected his upper body muscles for years. Running long distances was a daily routine, but pulling his own body weight over the edge of a roof was a lot more difficult than he'd remembered.

     It had begun to rain lightly as Cicero lowered to a crouch and moved carefully across the wooden shingles around to the Honeyside estate. He unsheathed his dagger and peeked over the edge of the roof to see Marcurio beginning to look impatient. The mage was grumbling to himself about having better things to do. What a pathetic man. Killing him would be a pleasure.

     Cicero picked off a loose piece of singling and tossed it over Marcurio's head. It landed on the pathway immediately drawing his attention. With Marc's back now turned, Cicero tightened his grip on his dagger and swiftly leaped down, landing behind him. Before Marcurio could turn to react, Cicero grabbed him by his ponytail and pulled him back onto the tip of the blade, digging it deep into the middle of his spine.

     Marcurio sputtered as he tried to cry out in pain, but managed nothing more than a bloody gurgle. His legs rapidly gave out as Cicero attempted to force the dagger to the hilt with one more thrust. Marc's body grew heavy causing Cicero to finally shove him forward off of the blade and onto the stone path. The rush of adrenaline pulsed through him like a boost of ecstasy. He felt high. He flicked the blood from his blade and wiped his hand on his thigh before sheathing his weapon.

     "Another soul for Sithis," Cicero said under his breath as he knelt to loot the corpse. He fished through Marcuro's pockets finding a fist full of septims, a key, and a ring. He stashed the items quickly and decided to leave the way he came so as not to arouse suspicion. The rain began to pick up as he scaled back up the side of the building. He didn't mind; it'd clean the blood from his leathers.

~

As soon as Cicero reentered the tavern, he realized that he wouldn't have to worry about relocating the Listener amongst the crowd. Jade was in the process of proving that she had quite a reputation in this town. She was standing on a table dancing provocatively with near a dozen drunken men clamoring around her. Many of them were cheering her name as they shoved one another trying to get closer. She clearly loved the attention as she continued to taunt them with suggestive gestures.

     Cicero took a moment to rake his wet hair back into place and check his armor for any stray blood spatter. It didn't take long before Jade noticed him and gasped in excitement. Using the shoulder of one of the men, she vaulted off the table and grabbed a full tankard of mead from an onlooker's hand before shoving her way over.

     "So?" she asked with an eager grin on her face.

     Cicero held his hand out with the loot. Jade grabbed the ring and looked it over.

     "Well, mine went for about 600 gold," she put it in her coin pouch along with the septims then grabbed the key, "I wonder what this is to?"

     "House?" Cicero asked as he took the drink from her.

     "Not that I know of. When we met he was living he-" Jade paused and her eyes grew wide. Cicero waited for her to finish but instead, she grabbed his hand and yanked him along causing him to spill most of his drink on a large hairy Nord next to him.

     "Are you kidding me, little man!?" the hulking man barked.

     "He's sorry!" Jade called back, waving. The Nord's gruff exterior suddenly weakened at her words.

     "Oh! Lady Jade... my fault, completely," he stammered, "I'll buy your friend another-"

     "Not necessary!" she blew a kiss and continued to drag Cicero through the crowd. She could get away with anything with just a wink of her eye. Dragonborn? Ha. She had more power in one tit than the entire Stormcloak army.

     Jade finally managed to pull them free and up a staircase to the second floor where the inn portion of the Bee and Barb was. She staggered around the corner of the hall drunkenly, not once releasing her grip on Cicero's arm. When she found the door she was looking for she jammed the key into the hole and it opened with ease.

     "I knew it!" she cackled, "That idiot still has a room. Can you believe that he wanted us to live here after the wedding? Cheap bastard. Let's see what he's got stashed."

     Cicero shrugged and casually followed her in. His nerves were still on fire from the adrenaline of the kill. He quickly finished the last of his mead and dropped the tankard beside the door before closing it behind them.

Chapter Text

     "For a man as well dressed as Marcurio, he sure didn't have anything worth stealing," Jade grumbled as she dug through the drawers of her dead husband's room. Cicero sat on the edge of the bed feeling a little lightheaded from the night of excessive drinking.

     "Ohhh! What have we here?" Jade gasped spotting a small lockbox under the corner of the bed. She scooped it up and flipped it around in her hands, examining the lock. Growing up in the Thieves Guild, she was well trained for just such an occasion. She pulled a lockpick from the pouch on her belt and went to work. Cicero watched but was more focused on the noise from the tavern downstairs.

     "Got it." Jade popped the box open and frowned. The only thing inside was a painfully familiar amulet. It was the one she used during her wedding with Marcurio. She felt nothing more than disappointment as she removed it.

     "Not even a single septim," she grunted, "What a cheap man."

     "What a dead man," Cicero smirked up at her.

     Jade cocked her brow and returned the smile. She swaggered over and sat on his lap, putting the amulet around his neck.

     "I guess that means I'm actually single now," she chuckled and placed her hand on his chest. The alcohol on her breath was quite pungent.

     Cicero's smirk faded. He grabbed her wrist with one hand and removed the amulet with the other.

     Jade frowned. "I'm just having fun, relax," she hissed.

     "I know your kind of fun," Cicero said in a low tone, gripping her arm tightly.

     "Oh, you do, huh? So what's that then?" she squinted, unsure of his intent.

     Cicero shifted slowly to unsheathe his dagger with his free hand and lightly ran the tip of the blade down from her throat, resting it between her cleavage.

     Jade's eyes widened. She was clearly offended, "What are you-"

     He pressed the tip down, cutting into the leather of her armor like butter. The fabric gave way, exposing more of her breast. Jade grabbed his wrist and attempted to pull the blade away from her skin. She grunted and stared into his eyes which were fixated on the cut. Cicero had always kept his blade so sharp that it could slice through leather with little resistance. He could easily cut her in half and she wouldn't even realize it until she bled out.

     "Stop!" she snapped, "I was just messing around!" Jade lifted her legs and tried to push him away with her knees. He dropped his blade as she managed to pull her arm free. Cicero suddenly reached down to grab her around the waist to prevent her from getting away. What in Oblivion had gotten into him? The two drunken colleagues grunted and struggled in an awkwardly serious tussle, neither knowing what the other was trying to do.

     "I am your Listener!" Jade shouted, "I demand you let go!"

     "This is what you like, is it not!?" Cicero snapped back at her, holding her firmly on his lap.
Jade finally managed to lean back enough to swing her foot around into his face.

     Cicero released on impact, dropping her to the floor like a rock. He grabbed his mouth in pain and stood up, moving away from the bed.

     Silence passed between them. Jade quickly kicked his dagger under the bed and crawled away before climbing to her feet. They exchanged glances, neither knowing what the other was thinking. Was he playing around? Was she playing hard to get?

     The awkward moment was suddenly broken by a loud slamming against the door. A moment later, it flew open. Jade staggered back toward Cicero when she saw the large bearded Nord standing there.

     "Njadya," the older man smiled, "Where have you been?" Cicero recognized the voice from the commotion in the tavern below.

     "Who?" Cicero asked quietly, wiping the blood from his lips.

     Jade backed up against the wardrobe in the corner. She looked terrified. The man made no apologies for barging in unannounced and seemed to completely ignore Cicero. It was clear that this was another problem from Jade's past. Just how many men had she pissed off in this town? Though, this one was much larger and more intimidating than the mage...

     "Gogvir, I-" Jade stammered.

     "The barkeep mentioned you were here. You've never been very subtle," Gogvir said closing the door and locking it, "I can't believe you'd come back to Riften and not say hi to your dear old uncle. I haven't seen you since you were a young lass."

     Jade's wide eyes shot over to Cicero as if she was silently trying to signal to him that this was not a happy reunion.

     "I-I... I just got here a few hours ago-"

     "My dear, Njadya," the large man said in a deep tone as he moved closer to her, "It's good to see you again. I was beginning to think you were avoiding me. This is not how you treat family."

     Cicero began to scan the floor for his dagger. Jade bit her lip and tried her best to appear confident. She stared past her uncle at the blade under the corner of the bed. Her own dagger was in her supply sack which she stupidly left by the bar downstairs.

     "I would never avoid you, uncle. I just get so busy with things-"

     "Things?" Uncle Gogvir noticed her distracted gaze. He turned to look and saw Cicero kneeling by the bed and glowered at him, "Whatever you paid her, it was too much kiddo."

     Cicero took note of the dagger's location and stood back up empty-handed. He stared the much larger intruder in the eye.

     "I didn't pay her anything... but I agree," he said in a mocking tone, glancing at Jade.

     She didn't frown or laugh. Her expression remained that of terror. Cicero knew then that this could only end one way.

     Gogvir turned back to Jade and reached his large arm around her shoulders. She stumbled as he aggressively pulled her against his massive frame. He then pointed to the door while looking at Cicero.

     "I'll take it from here, lad," he said, "Go find yourself a lusty mead wench and get tucked in."

     "I wasn't finished with her," Cicero finally spoke up, his voice was much more confident than he felt.

     "Eh?"

     "I paid for this room," he bluffed, puffing up his chest trying to appear bigger than he was, "I aim to use it."

     Jade's uncle released her and stepped over to the little man with the boot scrape on his cheek and looked down his broad nose at him. Cicero's fingers twitched at his side as if he were trying to will his dagger into his hand.

     Why wasn't Jade fighting back? Wasn't she the Dragonborn? Couldn't she just shout his ass through a wall? Was she just going to stand there and let Cicero get stomped or did she have some sort of plan?

     "You're right," the frustrated Nord grunted, "You're gonna need a place to sleep off this beating."

     Before he could even react, Cicero suddenly felt weightless as his body was thrown across the bed and into the wall. His face throbbed and the taste of blood filled his mouth again. He opened his eyes and inhaled sharply feeling something click against his tongue. Gogvir had decked him so hard that he had knocked a tooth loose. The bridge of his nose felt broken as well.

     Jade's scream sounded distant in Cicero's ears as he tried to sit up. He spat some blood and could barely see out of his right eye as he squinted in pain.

     "No!" Jade pleaded as her uncle grabbed her arm and dragged her to the door.

     "Uncle Jarkov will be pleased to know you are home as well!" he cheered as if it would be a delightful family reunion.

     Cicero slid to the floor, fighting with the spinning of his vision. He reached under the bed, grabbed his dagger, and in one fluid gesture, swung his arm back, slicing into Gogvir's Achille's tendon. The inn filled with a howl of intense pain as the goliath of a Nord fell against the door. Jade pulled her arm free and stumbled out of the way. Cicero didn't hesitate, quickly getting to his feet, he grabbed Uncle Gogvir by the back of the hair and pulled him back into a headlock. The giant man crumbled in pain, falling back into Cicero with all of his weight. Jade watched in terror. She felt like a helpless child again. But no one had ever come to save her before.

     Cicero flipped his dagger around in his hand and with one bold stroke, slit her uncle's throat clean open. Thick warm blood poured down the front of Gogvir's body; not a sound was uttered. Jade's nervous panting was all that remained.

     Several seconds passed before Cicero finally slid the behemoth of a man off of himself and staggered to his feet. With shaking hands, he placed the dagger on the nightstand, suddenly remembering the pain in his mouth. Jade cautiously approached, her eyes locked on her uncle as if afraid that by some chance he was still alive. Cicero spat his tooth out and slipped his tongue into the gap, blood dripping down his nose and chin. He glanced over at Jade.

     "Njadya? Pretty name," he forced an awkward smile.

     Jade's pale face was stained with tears. She could feel her entire body trembling as she fought to bury painful memories that she was so sure she was about to be forced to relive. Cicero grabbed the pelt from the bed and threw it over the body haphazardly as he finally managed to catch his breath.

     Jade suddenly ripped from her anxious stance and threw herself forward, desperately clinging to the silly little Imperial who had just saved her. Stunned, Cicero hesitated before lifting his arms to embrace her.

     He knew what this was. He knew what had happened to her. He had his suspicions about her past based on her aggressive and controlling attitude about men and sex and her obsession with trying to appear tough... but Njadya wasn't tough. She was terrified.

     "...Thank you," she whispered, lifting her head from his shoulder to look up at him, though he didn't meet her eyes. Cicero stared at the body on the floor contemplating how they should get out of there. Now there were two dead men from her past in one night and he was covered in their blood.

     Jade grabbed Cicero's face and pulled him into a kiss. He was paying attention to her now. This time he didn't turn away. He closed his eyes and leaned in, subtly tightening his embrace. She could taste the blood in his mouth as it smeared over her lips.

     Cicero suddenly pulled away. "No, we have to leave," he said, turning to take his dagger.

     Jade grabbed the collar of his hood and drew him back to face her. Her expression was firm and longing. It was clear what she wanted, but this was not the look of lust she had attempted to convince him with in the past. He released his grip on his blade leaving it on the stand, turning his attention back to Jade. He locked eyes with her and raised his thumb to wipe his blood from her lip.

     She took a short breath, "I want to thank you..."

     "Buy me another drink then, because my face is killing me," Cicero replied and touched his tongue to the gap in his teeth.

     Jade's eyes filled with tears again. Cicero felt bewildered. Now what? He'd never seen her cry before. She had seen him cry many times, though. Apparently, she viewed it as a sign of weakness. But at that moment, Jade was acting outwardly vulnerable.

     Retaining eye contact, Jade reached down and flipped the buckle on his belt. Cicero casually glanced down to watch. Though his face still throbbed, his mind went blank as he started feeling lightheaded as the blood seemed to mysteriously drain from his brain. Jade threw his belt on the floor and began unbuttoning his pants.

     "Your uncle is-..." Cicero glanced past her to the body once again.

     "Good for him," she replied flatly as she slid her hand into his leather breeches.

     Maybe it was the four tankards of mead... maybe it was the boot to the jaw or the punch to the nose... maybe it was the massive amount of blood on the floor and the adrenaline rush of the kill... maybe it was the warm hand in his pants... but Cicero could no longer think about anything else but primal instinct.

     "This feels wrong..." he sighed and suddenly grabbed her around the waist, tossing her onto the bed. Jade landed playfully, pleased that he had finally given in. She smiled as he climbed up onto her and began pulling at the cut in her leather armor. Cicero wasn't sure if his newly found sanity was slipping as he tried not to question why he finally fell under her spell. It was never difficult to fight her off in the past but he felt mentally different now. He felt conflicted and animalistic as he leaned in to kiss her neck.

     Jade was so flooded with unsettled emotions and alcohol that she didn't even see him as the Cicero she once knew. He wasn't that silly jester-wannabe who annoyed everyone around him. He wasn't that crazy unpredictable fool. At that moment, he was her savior... her keeper.

Chapter Text

     Cicero was ripped from slumber by a sudden knock at the door. He quickly sat up trying to remember where he was. His eyes instantly landed on Jade curled up in a pelt beside him. She appeared to be just as buck-naked as himself. A large man lay dead on the floor under a bear pelt in a pool of blood. Cicero glanced up at the door before scrambling to gather pieces of his armor from the foot of the bed.

     Jade awoke as her source of heat was removed. She slowly sat up looking around in confusion when she noticed the body of her dead uncle. A chill ran up her spine as memories of the night before came flooding back.

     There was another knock at the door followed by a small female voice, "Master Marcurio?"

     Cicero paused in his struggle with his leather breeches and turned to signal to Jade to stay quiet. She pulled the pelt over her bare chest as a look of panic crossed her face.

     "Master Marcurio," the girl knocked again and wiggled the handle. Thankfully, it was still locked. "It's Aud. I'm here for my lesson! I brought the honey and the nightshade like you requested-"

     Jade frowned upon hearing that and glanced at Cicero. He buttoned up his pants and bent down to gather her armor and tossed it at her. She refused to move her arms from covering her chest; the leather outfit landing over her face. 

     Cicero was not concerned about her naked body so much as how they were going to get out of there. His head was pounding with a hangover that could kill a horse. As he continued to dress with haste, he realized that he was having a hard time breathing from his nose which felt pretty broken.

     "Master?" The girl knocked yet again, "Is everything alright? Are you awake?"

     Jade yanked her clothing off her head and glared at Cicero. Her expression slowly faded as she finally got a good look at his bruised and bashed face. She felt bad about everything that had happened, knowing good and well that it was her that had put him in each situation... yet he had never complained.

     Noticing her gaze, Cicero gestured to his lips and then pointed to the door. She squinted at him, not understanding. He shook his head, pointed to his lips, then to her, then to the door again. Jade twisted around trying to get her armor on while at the same time, struggling to keep her body covered from his view. Cicero snapped his fingers to get her attention again. She grunted angrily, not understanding what he wanted.

     The girl knocked once more, lighter this time, "Master, should I get the innkeeper to let me in? I'm afraid something is wrong... you never miss a lesson..."

     Jade stood up to finish dressing as she finally understood the severity of the situation.

     "Say something," Cicero whispered.

     "What? Why?" Jade hissed back.

     They glared at one another. Despite the throbbing of his jaw, Cicero clenched his teeth and motioned for her to hurry up.

     "You're a man, you'd sound more like him-" she complained.

     "Just say, 'he's busy'." 

     Jade's eyebrows lifted, finally understanding what he was trying to do. "Uh- um-" she cleared her throat and raised her voice to the door, "Marc is passed out. He had a looong night, if you know what I mean."

     Cicero nodded in approval. They waited for the girl to reply.

     "...oh... I-..." the naive student mumbled, "I see... I'll come back tomorrow. S-so sorry to bother you two..." And with that, her footsteps moved away and down the stairs.

     Cicero exhaled sharply, then winced in pain clasping his hand over his mouth. He poked his tongue gently into the gap where his tooth used to be and closed his eyes.

     "We have to get out of here," Jade said and retrieved his dagger from the nightstand, handing it to him, "I left my things downstairs."

     Cicero turned to the window and slid it open to lean out; the brisk air felt good on his bruised face. It appeared to be afternoon already. The walkways were filled with workers and migrants. Climbing out the window would not be wise. He turned to mention this to Jade but his mind fell blank as he saw her stepping over the body and unlocking the door.

     "What are you doing!?" he gasped.

     Jade opened it and wiped the blood from her boots on the corner of the wall before stepping out. "We would look more suspicious sneaking out," she said flatly, "Just follow my lead. If there's one thing I know, it's how to 'sneak' out of a man's bedroom without being noticed."

     Cicero inhaled to respond but stopped. She had a point. He glanced about the room one last time to make sure nothing was left behind, before stepping over Uncle Gogvir, mindful of the blood. He followed her out into the hall, closing the door quietly behind them.

     Downstairs, the tavern was almost empty, it being midday and all. Jade casually walked up to the bar, grabbed her bag from the floor, and made her way to the side exit. The innkeeper glanced over but said nothing. Cicero followed her stiffly.

Once outside, he relaxed his shoulders a bit feeling surprised and relieved. "That always works? Just walk out the front door in plain sight?"

     "Not always," she smirked, "Not if the wife is home."

     Cicero rolled his eyes.

     As they neared the front gate, there was some noticeable commotion going on back toward the Honeyside estate. Jade slowed down as spectators ran past to investigate. Cicero placed his hand in the middle of her back and firmly pressed her forward.

     "Just keep walking," he said under his breath.

     When they reached the gate, only one guard was at his post. Apparently, the others were over-investigating the murder of a local mage in the alley. Jade smiled politely at him.

     "Halt!" the guard stepped into their path, "What happened here?"

     "Where?" Cicero asked, his hand moving closer to his dagger.

     "Your face. By Talos, citizen, you get into some sort of brawl last night?"

     Cicero wasn't sure how to answer. He didn't want to draw attention to his previous dealings at the inn, but he was quite sure his injuries looked worse than he'd originally thought.

     "He got drunk and fell down some stairs," Jade spoke for him.

     The guard glanced at Jade, then back at Cicero. "I-... see," he sounded concerned.

     "Clumsy, this one," Jade nodded and pulled Cicero along through the gate by his arm. The guard stepped aside and watched them pass.

     "Hang in there, brother," the guard said quietly in a strangely understanding tone.

     Cicero glanced back at him and shrugged just to be jerked forward by Jade's grip.

~

     Up the path, out of sight of the front gate, Jade summoned Shadowmere and began strapping her bag onto the saddle.

     "So, are we gonna address the three-hundred-pound mammoth in the room?" Cicero asked, leaning on a fence post.

     "I've slept with dozens of men," she replied gruffly, "Don't get all emotional on me, it's not what you think."

     "Oh, 'dozens'," he chuckled under his breath.

     "What?"

     "Nothing. No, I meant your uncle-"

     "Ah," she turned away from him, "You meant the ACTUAL mammoth in the room. He's dead. What more is there to talk about?"

     "Listen, Jade. I understand. Probably more than you know-"

     "Jade?" she glanced back at him, placing her hand on her hip, "That's something I'd like to talk about. What's happening to you?"

     "What do you mean?" Cicero's gaze dropped to the ground.

     "You just called me by my name without an honorific title. You never do that. It's always 'Lady Jade' or 'Madam Listener'... You no longer speak the same. You don't even walk the same. I haven't heard you rhyme or sing or dance since... well... you're just different."

     "I feel different," he replied sincerely, his eyes lifting to meet hers.

     "What changed?"

     Cicero fell silent, leaning on his elbow on the fence post again and fidgeting with his fingers.
"I'm not sure. My head feels different."

     "Was it the Dunmer initiate's arrival?" Jade asked in a low tone.

     Cicero hesitated. The timing seemed right. When Zukira arrived, he suddenly started feeling more clearheaded. He felt less emotional and more focused. But he didn't want to tell Jade that. The way she reacted when he was hitting on Zukira made it clear enough that there was some sort of control issue there.

     "I wanted to talk about your uncle," he said, not so subtly changing the subject back.

     "No," Jade huffed and pulled herself up onto the horse, "It's over. He's dead."

     "Not that uncle," Cicero pushed himself off the fence post and began walking over, "Uncle Jerk-off was it?"

     Jade glanced back and him and wrinkled her brow, "You mean Jarkov?"

     "Haha!" Cicero chuckled, "I never get your Nordic names right. Yeah, that one."

     "What about him?" she asked in a serious tone.

     "Uncle Cockvir-"

     "Gogvir."

     "Whatever. Gogvir mentioned that his brother, I assume, would be pleased to know you were home..."

     Jade's face grew dark and angry. She snapped the reins and steered Shadowmere down the path. Cicero huffed and ran to catch up.

     "I want to kill him!" he bluntly called to her.

     Jade pulled back causing the horse to stop. She didn't turn to face him.

     "Why?" she asked flatly.

     Cicero sauntered up beside her, "Because I wanted someone to do that for me."

     Silence fell between them. The sound of the wind rustling through the trees filled the moment.

      Jade closed her eyes and sat there sliding her jaw forward in thought.

     "Why didn't you fight back?" Cicero finally broke the silence.

     She opened her eyes and looked down at him. She was unable to answer. He could see that vulnerable girl in her gaze again; the one that she worked so hard to hide beneath layers of brutish speech and sexual distraction.

     "I didn't fight back, either," he continued, placing his hand on his chest, "You are my Listener. You hold the most coveted rank in the Brotherhood-"

     "I didn't ask for that," she interrupted, "I didn't ask for any of this!"

     "None of us did," Cicero snapped boldly, "But I'm asking you now... to let me do this for you."

     Jade rolled her eyes to the sky as she fought back tears. She knew this wasn't for her. She could just return to the Sanctuary and pretend none of this ever happened. She was good at running away from uncomfortable situations and blocking things out... but Cicero wasn't. Cicero needed this. He, for some reason, needed to project some sort of pain through this kill. It needed to be personal. Who was she to say no?

     "Get on," Jade sighed, leaning forward in the saddle, "The cabin is south of the city..."

Chapter Text

      Shadowmere came to a halt at the foot of a dirt path winding up a hill deep in the woods. An old yet well-kept log cabin stood at the top as if on the edge of the world all by itself. Jade exhaled, her breath visible in the cold air.

     "It's been a while," she said calmly, her tone was difficult to read.

     Cicero began to survey the area. It was late afternoon, but with all the thick tree cover, it was quite dark. He slid off of the horse and held his hand up to assist Jade. She stared at him confused.

     "What?"

"I'm helping you down," he replied, extending his arm more.

     She scoffed and kicked his hand out of the way before dismounting on her own. Cicero stepped out of her way, trying not to appear offended.

     "Alright," he sighed, "I don't suppose you want to sit around and stake this place out to prepare a good plan of execution- no pun intended, so I've got three questions." 

     "Let's just get this over with," Jade mumbled as she followed him slowly up the hill.

     "First, is there a good way to enter this cabin without a lot of noise?"

     "There is only one door. The windows are boarded up to keep bears out," Jade answered.

     "Okay... second, how big is this Uncle Jerk-off on a scale from riekling to troll."

     "Your size, so not very big."

     Cicero paused in his tracks and looked over at her, "What's that supposed to mean?"

     "Are you seriously going to take that as an attack on your manhood?" She crossed her arms.

     "I-... well NOW I am!" he protested, "I'll have you know, I am average size for an Imperial!"

     "Are we talking about height-?"

     "...Yes."

     "..."

     "Last question," Cicero continued, "What does he do?"

     "What do you mean? As a job?"

     "If he's my size, he's likely not a lumberjack or a miner. So what does he do out here in this cabin?"

     "Like the rest of my family, he's with the Thieves Guild," Jade explained, "Though, he never spent a lot of time here. In fact, he might not even live here anymore."

     "Then why did you bring us out here?" Cicero groaned beginning to get impatient.

     "Because I haven't seen him in a decade and a half and I'm not about to waltz into the Ragged Flagon and start asking around! He has friends, as did uncle Gogvir and that's why I want to leave!"

     Cicero hesitated before turning to continue up to the cabin. As he neared the front gate he lowered to a crouch and slowly made his way up to the front door. He motioned for Jade to follow. She stayed back by the gate and shook her head. As much as Cicero could understand her refusal to join him, he didn't want to go in without someone watching his back. On a typical contract, he'd spend a good day or two scouting the place and coming up with various plans in case of emergency. He didn't have the luxury this time.

     Cicero leaned against the door frame and listened before reaching up and grabbing the handle. He pushed the door open slowly with his fingertips seeing that it was dark inside. A short moment later, he stood up and stepped inside.

     "What are you-" Jade also stood when she saw this. Was he crazy? She unsheathed her dagger and ran after him.

     The cabin appeared to be made up of one room with a fireplace and a single bed. There were pelts and hunting trophies all over the walls and various bottles of local mead all across the floor. It smelled moldy and dank. Just as she said, the windows were boarded up tight allowing no light in. The 'serial killer atmosphere' didn't bother Cicero in the slightest. He's spent the night in even more sinister-looking places with actual serial killers. Heck, he was one of them.

     "What are you doing!?" Jade snapped from the doorway, "You just stroll right in!?"

     "Less suspicious," he said, mocking her own words from earlier as he began searching the place.

     "He could have been here!"

     "Unlikely," Cicero replied making his way over to the bed, "The fireplace isn't lit. It's too cold to be sitting around here without a fire."

     Jade glanced at the dark hearth. She remembered sitting there as a kid. She always wondered if she could climb out through the chimney but it was always lit. Her fingers twitched as she knelt down and poked the cold embers with the tip of her dagger, digging around as if looking for something. 

     Cicero rummaged through the drawers of the wardrobe noticing that everything was empty. "I don't think he's been here for a long while," he sighed and knelt down to look under the bed.

     Jade turned to suggest they forget the whole thing but found herself unable to make a sound as she saw the shape of a man standing in the shadows beside the foot of the bed.

     Cicero felt the shift in the air but was unable to react before he was instantly smashed over the head with a plank of wood. The crack of the impact was so loud Jade could almost feel it in her chest. His body crumbled to the floor.

~

     So cold. Cicero couldn't feel his arms or legs. He couldn't see. Was he dead? Was this the Void? Was he finally in the Dread Father's embrace? The back of his head felt split open, making the pain in his face less noticeable.

     "By the Nine, what happened here!?" a muffled unfamiliar voice spoke from nearby.

     Cicero felt someone shaking his body through the numbness. Suddenly, a sack was removed from his head and he could see again. It was night and he could hear the sound of running water nearby. He lifted his head and squinted up at the figure standing over him.

     "You're alive!?" the older man gasped, "Who did this to you!? Bandits? Thalmor?"

     Everything began to come into perspective. Cicero shifted on his shoulder trying to push himself up; his vision was blurry.

     "Where are your clothes, son?" the man stepped away watching him pull himself up.

     Sure enough, Cicero was completely naked in the snow on the banks of a river. His hair stuck to his dirty wet face. He was definitely a sight to see; bloody, bruised, and bare.

     "Jade..." Cicero could barely speak. He struggled to find the energy to stand. 

     The concerned man took another step back, "Look, I work at the lumber mill up the river. I'm going to call for the guards. I don't know who did this to you, or if they are still around, but-"

     Cicero felt a rush of adrenaline pass through him as he remembered what had happened. "Don't..." he managed to mumble. The last thing he wanted was to get the authorities involved. He had a good idea of how Riften worked, and he'd already murdered two citizens in the last twenty-four hours.

     "Don't get up. I'm going to go get help," the mill worker turned to leave.

     Cicero clenched his teeth through the pain of his bleeding head. His thoughts became static as he suddenly charged him. The man went down with very little resistance. Rage overthrew every sense Cicero had left of his humanity as he beat him in the face repeatedly with his fist. When the man ceased to move, Cicero quickly began stripping him of his clothing. He pulled out the pockets as he dressed, hoping to find a weapon of some sort. No such luck. His fingers were too frozen to button the shirt closed or even clasp the belt correctly, but his mind wasn't on appearance. He was seeing red. The boots, unfortunately, were laced too tightly to the man's feet forcing Cicero to continue barefoot. He acknowledged that he might end up losing a toe or two from frostbite by the end of this and that was if he was lucky.

     The woods at night were incredibly dark and he didn't have a clue how to navigate this part of the Hold. All he knew was that he had to find the Listener. It was his job to protect her at all cost and it was his fault that this happened.

     Cicero rubbed his throbbing knuckles. How did he get out here? If whoever hit him dragged him there, then it was safe to assume that he wasn't far from the cabin. But the fact that he was stripped down and left for dead meant that Jade was not able to stop the situation... which could mean that she was-

     Cicero's rage built with every step. His blood pressure continued to rise, warming his extremities back up. By a small break in the trees, the moonlight landed upon some footsteps in the snow off of the path, opposite from where the mill the worker came from. This suggested another person was through here recently. Cicero picked up his pace. Every step hurt less than the previous as his adrenaline numbed the pain. The terrain elevated gradually a few hundred yards away. Cicero broke into a run seeing a warm glow at the top.

     The cabin. There was a fire in the fireplace now. The light was seeping out between the boards on the windows. Cicero didn't have a weapon other than his body and with his level of training, this was actually something he felt confident in, regardless. He may not be as strong as he was in his youth, but he felt like he could choke a sabercat at that moment. 

     As he approached the house, he braced himself for what he might find inside. If Jade was still alive, it probably wouldn't be pretty. After a slight hesitation, Cicero took a deep breath and pushed the door open ready for anything... anything but nothing. The one-room cabin was empty. The fire cast a blanket of warm light on every corner to confirm. 

     Cicero twitched as he fought the urge to call out to her. His heart sank and he suddenly felt weak; wanting to collapse on the floor and allow death to finally take him. He failed. Again. Unable to keep the Night Mother's body intact... unable to keep the Listener safe from harm... Sithis would surely punish him.

     Cicero lowered to his knees slowly finding it difficult to breathe as his chest tightened with the anxiety of how this would affect the Brotherhood. He was selfish. He dragged the Listener here to perform some sort of personal therapy and ended up losing her.

     There's no Listener in Skyrim.

     Memories of receiving the news of the prior Listener's demise in Cyrodiil came flooding back. He closed his eyes and leaned forward, hanging his head. The fire crackled in the unbearable silence. Silence again. After failure, silence was the other thing he feared most. Silence brought the darkness out in him. Oh, the deafening silence... then he heard it. Crying.

     Cicero lifted his head and stared blankly through the bloody locks of his hair as he listened. Was it real? Was he hearing things again?

     "...Jade?" he asked quietly, "Please tell me that's you..."

     With significant effort, he pushed himself to his feet and stood quietly trying to locate the source of the sound. It wasn't coming from outside. His eyes drifted to the floor at the foot of the bed where his assailant had ambushed him. There was a handle.

     Cicero lurched forward and dropped down to grab it, pulling open a door to a cellar. The crying stopped but he was sure it came from down below. He descended the narrow ladder leading into the dank basement. The cellar also appeared to be a single room. It was lit by several candles on the walls, casting subtle light over an abundance of hoarded treasures and stolen goods covering the floor and tables.

     At the back of the cellar, Cicero could see a woman with her arms shackled to the stone wall. She had her arms and legs tied with a sack over her head, not unlike the one he had on his earlier. Her body hung limply as she put very little effort into standing on her own. Dressed in shrouded armor, it was clearly Jade. 

     Cicero rushed over and ripped the bag off of her head. She opened her eyes and stared back at him in shock. He suddenly grabbed her face in his icy hands and clenched his teeth as he began to hyperventilate with emotion. She was unharmed.

     "Cicero!?" she cried, "I thought he killed you!"

     "I did too. Did he touch you?"

     "N.... no. He left to-"

     Cicero abruptly put the sack back over her head and stepped away.

     "What are you doing?" Jade attempted to thrash against her restraints, "Get me down!"

     "You're going to be alright," he said calmly, "I got this."

     As much as Jade wanted to scream and demand he free her, she decided to trust him for once and fell silent. She listened to him shifting around in the treasures and trinkets that littered the small cellar. He clearly had a plan and at this point, she owed it to him to cooperate.

     Several minutes passed in silence. Jade no longer heard his movement which made her nervous she might be alone again. She contemplated saying his name until the creek of the cellar door echoed from above.  Footsteps.

     "Oh, Njadya," Uncle Jarkov's voice made her queasy, "I think you'll like this."

     The sack was suddenly removed from her head again and the younger of her uncles stood before her dressed in familiar shrouded armor. When she had said earlier that he was about the same size as Cicero, she had no idea how accurate she was.

     "I'm not a fan of the tight areas, but you obviously are," he ran his hands down over his sides, feeling the leather. "The Dark Brotherhood, eh? Too good for the Thieves Guild anymore? Too good for your family? The family who raised you and care for you?"

     Jade felt nauseous seeing him dressed in Cicero's armor. She frowned and spit at him. Uncle Jarkov leaned back just in time as if he'd expected it.

     "Feisty as ever, I see," he chuckled, "I went into town to let Gogvir know you were back in our neck of the woods... and you won't believe what I discovered."

     Jade squinted. She already knew.

     "Seems someone off'd my dear brother, not unlike your father's fate," he frowned and his tone deepened, "Assassinated at the Bee and Barb in one of the rooms. That's the thing about the Thieves Guild. We don't kill our victims. No. Too sloppy. We get creative. We send a message-"

     "Message received!" Cicero shouted as he cracked a gold statue of Dibella over the back of Jarkov's head causing him to fall forward onto Jade. She screamed and kicked him off, his body spilling to the stone floor.

     Jarkov gasped and sputtered, writhing in pain. He struggled to turn over and lift his eyes to Cicero dressed in the bloody mill worker's clothes. 

     "P-p... leas..." blood bubbled in Jarkov's throat as he attempted to plead for his life, "I- w-wasn't going to touch her- I s-swear, I didn't hurt her-"

     Cicero stepped over to him and held the statue up, bracing to strike, "You already did," he said calmly, "The damage is done."

     "Take her... I don't want her... I- I'll leave her alone- I swear! I'm sorry- I'm truly sorry!"

     "We know."

     Cicero raised the statue above his head and swung it down onto Jarkov's temple, splitting it like a melon. Jade winced and closed her eyes as she was forced to listen to the beating. Through his rage, Cicero's panting began to sound like sobbing. Eventually, the sound of wet thunking turned to metal clanking as the statue reached the stone floor through what was left of Uncle Jarkov's skull.

     "STOP!" Jade shouted with her eyes closed tightly, "That's enough..."

     Cicero dropped the statue and attempted to catch his breath. He reached down and removed his own dagger from the stolen holster on Jarkov's hip and stepped around to the other side of the body like a carpenter measuring up his next cut. Jade opened her eyes unable to look at the mass of grey matter before her. She stared at the back of Cicero's head as he paced around studying his victim. She could see the damage her uncle had done when he had hit him.

     "Please just let me down..." she pleaded weakly.

     Cicero ignored her. His mind whirred with a sense of revenge that had been buried deep within him for most of his life. A painful urge to right a wrong that he felt would go forever unresolved. He finally knelt down and with one swift movement, jammed the blade into the corpse's groin. Jade flinched and closed her eyes again. Was this the madness? Was this who Cicero REALLY was deep inside? How broken did someone have to be to go this far?

     "Cicero..." Jade whispered, "That's enough..."

     Cicero removed his dagger and stood. He stared down at his masterpiece of blood and devastation, satisfied that there was one less predator in the world. He wiped the blood from the blade onto his leg and slid it into the loop on his pants. Jade watched quietly as he turned and began untying her. Feeling physically weak from the emotional trauma, she found it difficult to stand on her own and allowed him to pull her down into his arms. She felt lightheaded as the metallic scent of blood assaulted her nose. When she was able to hold her balance, Jade carefully pulled away from Cicero. His touch frightened her.

     "Let's go home," he said quietly, "Mother is waiting."

Chapter Text

     Cicero pulled the reins on Shadowmere as they neared the entrance to the Sanctuary. Jade, half asleep, had her arms around his waist as she wobbled involuntarily from the shift in speed. They had ridden all night in an attempt to get back to nurse their physical and emotional wounds. A familiar and loving face welcomed them as they slowed upon the rock face near the shore.

     Ruby had a basket of wildflowers on her arm and a big grin on her face as she ran over waving. She wasn't well dressed for the cold climate but being a snow elf, that probably didn't bother her as much. Shadowmere came to a stop and Cicero slid off with a grunt before turning to help Jade. She didn't kick his offering hand away this time and silently accepted. She was too tired and feeling a bit too awkward from the previous events to make a fuss.

     A look of concern crossed Ruby's face when she noticed Cicero's strange bloody clothing and injuries. Dried blood in his hair and around his mouth, the bridge of his nose slightly bent and swollen and a very visible black left eye; he was quite difficult to look at. Ruby held her distance but her expression of concern was clear. Cicero smiled and moved closer, pulling her into a hug. When he last saw her, she was crying and visibly hurt by his actions. His gentle embrace calmed her, but she could feel something was very wrong with him. The feeling almost made her ill.

     "I missed you, Miss Ruby," he said in a warm tone.

     She leaned her head back to look at him. His damaged face was even more startling up close. Ruby gently touched his cheek with her fingertips. As a slave of the Dwemer, she was too small and frail to do much physical labor. Her job was to aid the others. Prepare meals, midwife expectant mothers, care for the babies, aid the sick and elderly, and treat the wounded. She may have been a bit simple in the head, but her skills to care for others were quite advanced and she knew that now was the time to earn Cicero's love again. She had feared that he no longer had need of her now that that 'other female' had arrived.

     Jade quietly took her supply sack from the horse and began making her way into the Sanctuary without so much as a greeting to the little elf. The unfortunate adventure couldn't end soon enough.

     "Babette has you picking flowers, I see," Cicero said, trying to make conversation with a girl he knew couldn't understand him anyway.

     Ruby brightened up hearing his friendly tone and reached into her basket. She eagerly held up what appeared to be a homemade jester's cap very similar to the one Cicero had thrown into the fire a while back. It was made from pieces of old shrouded robes and even had little ear flaps that hung down on the sides. The stitching was a little sloppy but not much worse than his own.

     "You made me a cap..." Cicero cooed in a weak voice, "A jester's cap..."

     Ruby reached up and placed it on his head making sure the flaps rested snuggly over his ears. She patted them lightly to draw attention to the addition.

     Cicero felt himself on the verge of tears. The last few days had been quite difficult and his emotions were more erratic than a teenage girl flirting with the farmhand. He bit his lip and pulled her into an even tighter hug than before. Ruby felt his shift in emotion and was filled with immediate relief as she buried her face into his shoulder.

~

     Nazir met Jade in the corridor inside the entrance just as she entered; A look of urgency on his face.

     "You're back, good," he said, his voice was stern and not reflecting his expression.

     "Yeah, something is definitely different with Cicero," she replied as a follow up to his initial request to monitor the Keeper, "He's a lot more stable but also... a lot angrier, I think he-"

     "Cicero is not of concern at the moment," Nazir motioned for her to follow back to the landing. Jade rounded the corner seeing that Babette and Sage were both standing before the Night Mother's casket but something was different.

     "What in Oblivion," Jade gasped moving closer, "Where is she?"

     The casket appeared to be empty. A mere pile of ash lay on the floor before them, mixed with strips of linen wrappings and twine.

     "She just... disintegrated," Babette said, glancing back at Jade.

     "I don't know what caused this, but I'm sure it's some sort of catalyst," Nazir added.

     "Probably something bad," Sage moved aside so the Listener could approach.

     Jade knelt to touch the ashes with her fingertips and a chill ran up her spine. She may have been relatively new to the Dark Brotherhood, but this had a very ominous feel to it. She knew it was strange that the Night Mother had not spoken to her in a long while. And Cicero was- ...

     Oh, Cicero...

     Jade stood quickly as she heard him coming from the entrance, talking to Ruby. How was he going to react to this? Especially with the more violent and angry tendencies he'd been having. Were the two oddities connected somehow?

     Nazir glanced up the corridor and nodded, "I'm not sure I want to be here for this," he muttered and turned to leave casually. Babette agreed silently and followed. They had both been witness to Cicero's various outbursts and this was probably going to be the mother of all meltdowns... pun intended.

     Jade quickly moved to block Cicero's path to the landing. Sage knew he should probably avoid the entire scenario but stayed when he saw that Ruby was in the middle of it. He had grown a lot closer to her in the last few days and felt an overwhelming need to protect her... from Cicero.

     "Wait," Jade held her hands up to stop him, "I'm not sure how to prepare you for this, but before you panic, I want you to understand that there's most likely a good reason for-"

     "Mother!?" Cicero knew something was wrong without further explanation. He pushed Jade aside and ran past, rounding the bend into the landing. His eyes fell to the ashes before him. The Sanctuary suddenly felt very cold and empty. Sage put his arm around Ruby and began to lead her away as he ask about her flowers in a calm, quiet tone like an adult shielding a child from something horrible.

     Cicero dropped to his knees and reached his quivering hands out to touch the ash. He began choking on his words. "I-... Wh-"

     "I'm sure there's a good reason for this," Jade began, "and I'm sure you don't have anything to do with it-"

     Cicero's silence was becoming frightening. She wasn't sure how to comfort him. Memories of his psychotic breakdown in the cellar replayed in her head as she subconsciously placed her hand on the hilt of her sword.

     "Listen..." Cicero cried in a tiny weak voice, "Please..."

     Jade wasn't sure who he was talking to and remained silent.

     "Listen... listen!" his voice rose and he turned to look back at her, pulling the jester's cap from his head and rising to his feet, "LISTEN!!" His voice echoed off the walls.  His face was red and the blood on his lip looked fresh as he grimaced and clenched his teeth. "Is that not your job!?" he barked at her, "She chose YOU!! She chose YOU over CICERO!! I WAS MORE QUALIFIED! DID YOU NOT LISTEN!??"

     Jade's grasp tightened around the handle of her blade as she took a step back. He was referring to himself in the third person again. She wasn't sure how to reply. She was so fatigued from the trip that getting into a fight with Cicero right then would surely end badly.

     "Please!!" his face altered to a look of desperation, "...please, Listener... listen. Listen hard. Can you hear her... can you hear Mother's sweet voice...?"

     Jade loosened her grip on the blade and lowered her shoulders. She found herself attempting to "listen" but was never quite sure how that worked. Nothing. Silence. She suddenly questioned whether or not she should lie. Perhaps she could make up a reason the Night Mother had abandoned them. Something promising and hopeful to put his heart at ease, if only for the moment.

     "Darkness rises when silence dies," a soft voice spoke quietly from the hall.

     Cicero glanced over with an intensity in his eyes. Jade remembered those words. They were the words the Night Mother had spoken to her to let the Keeper know that a Listener had been chosen. The binding words.

     Zukira slowly approached them with an apprehensive look on her face. The tension in the room only increased. Cicero bounded over to her and placed his hands on her shoulders.

     "Say that again..."

     "...She said, 'Darkness rises when silence dies,'" Zukira whispered as he leaned in close to her face.

     Cicero's eyes went blank and he leaned away again, trying to make sense of it all. Zukira felt like she was going to faint. The uncertainty of the moment seemed to draw on forever.

     "Two," Cicero finally spoke, releasing her and looking back at Jade, "Two listeners? Why? For what reason?"

     "Our Matron has a message," Zukira fidgeted a bit, "She said that the 'Wrath' requests the audience of the Speaker and the Keeper at the ruins of the Falkreath Sanctuary."

     "'The Wrath...'" Cicero closed his eyes. He felt like he was going to be sick, "So... this is it, then..."

     "This is what?" Jade finally chimed in, "What in Oblivion is going on!? I thought I was the Listener!? Falkreath? Why there? What does this mean?"

     Cicero placed his hand over his chest, clenching the jester's cap tightly. He found himself having a hard time breathing.

     "...We are to be judged."

Chapter Text

     Sleep did not come easy. Even with being exhausted from the events in the Rift, Cicero was finding it nearly impossible to relax with the knowledge that he would soon be face-to-face with the harbinger of the Void... the 'Wrath of Sithis'. He lay in his bed listening to his own heart beating in his ears. The wounds on his face throbbed despite the healing ointment that Ruby had applied. With the stolen mill worker's clothes caked in dried blood and the old shrouded armor set still on the corpse of Uncle Jarkov, Cicero was forced to don his tattered jester motley again. Nazir promised to have a new set of leathers for him to wear before they left for Falkreath... but in the meantime, Cicero chose to punish himself as he shivered and obsessed over his recent failures.

     Why the Wrath? Why now? This was not like the purifications of the past. This was something that had never been documented. No one had ever truly laid eyes upon the Wrath before... no one who lived to tell, anyway. Many assumed it to be a figure of speech referring to eternal damnation. 

     Cicero knew he had failed the Night Mother and Dread Father. He wasn't sure what he had done wrong, but it was clear that the Brotherhood was in peril because of it. He was never truly afraid of death, even when confronted by the Dragonborn while fleeing Astrid's traitorous clan of blasphemers. Jade could have killed him then and there yet his only fear was leaving the Night Mother alone to the elements of the wretched. Cicero had always cherished the idea of humbly joining Mother and Father in the Void. He felt as if his entire life was building up to it... but now... everything was beginning to feel different.

     The bed suddenly shifted and he could feel a warm hand touch his shoulder.

     "Miss Ruby, I-" he turned over expecting to see the little elf since she had a habit of cuddling against him at night.

     "I just wanted to check on you," Zukira said as she carefully sat down beside him. 

     Cicero quickly sat up, "Oh... Zuk- initiate, I'm-"

    "I didn't mean to startle you."

     "I'm alright. I just have a lot on my mind."

     "About that... I don't know why the Night Mother spoke to me, but I'm sure you have nothing to worry about."

     "The Wrath doesn't speak to those who 'have nothing to worry about'," he mumbled.

     "What is the Wrath exactly?"

     "He's allegedly the embodiment of Sithis," Cicero sighed, laying back onto his pillow, "An apparition or even an avatar of flesh sent to speak for him."

     "Doesn't the Night Mother speak for Sithis?" Zukira asked glancing down at him.

     "The Night Mother merely feeds the Void by speaking to the Listener to pass on the wishes of the users of the Black Sacrament," he explained, "Sithis, being the Void, has no form and no voice. But he has taken to flesh before when he first visited our Matron and begat her five children to which she sacrificed to prove her devotion.

     "With Mother's corpse gone, she is unable to communicate with us further. She was the heart of the Dark Brotherhood. Without her we are just stabbing in the dark, so to speak."
Cicero stared at Zukira as he waited to hear her thoughts. She said nothing.

     "Are you afraid?" he asked quietly.

     Zukira bit her lips together and nodded while avoiding eye contact. "I feel that I had something to do with this," she finally said, "I don't know what, but I feel that this all started happening when I arrived-"

     "The Dark Brotherhood has been hemorrhaging for decades," Cicero replied as he slowly sat back up, "and with the discovery of the Listener and the fall of the Falkreath Sanctuary, things have just... escalated."

     "I don't want you to go," Zukira mumbled under her breath, "I'm afraid I'll lose you again."

     "I have to," Cicero shook his head, "I'm a servant to the Void as are you, and we shouldn't question the orders of the Night Mother..."

     "Then I want to go with you."

     Cicero shook his head again, "I'd rather you not be anywhere near there. If something happens-"

     "Like what?"

     "...I don't know." his voice faded as he looked away. 

     Zukira suddenly leaned forward and pulled him into a nervous hug, "I don't want to be alone anymore..." she whispered.

     Cicero held her. He could relate to those words more than she could ever know. Though, he didn't want to explain that, if this were a purification, she'd be killed as well... He tucked his face into the side of her neck gently so as not to hurt his healing nose. She smelled so good. Why did women smell so good? His mind flashed back to the drunken night at the Bee and Barb with Jade and he began to feel nauseous. If Zukira knew what they did, she would be devastated. Fortunately, there was a good chance that Jade would never bring it up again. He knew she considered him a loser and that wasn't the kind of 'hook-up' she'd want anyone to associate her with. Besides, there was the whole dead uncle situation that could get them both into a lot of trouble depending on who found out. Though, that didn't make him feel any less like a piece of shit.

     "We just have to wait and see," he whispered softly, "Regardless, you won't be alone."

~

     The next morning, Cicero stood before the empty casket of the Night Mother as he adjusted the cuffs of his new set of shrouded armor. Well, sort of new. Judging from the musty smell of the leather, it hadn't been worn for decades. At least it fit in the correct places.

     Ruby scampered across the landing and leaped onto Cicero's back. Even predicting the impact, he found himself stumbling forward.

     "Cicero has to leave again, Miss Ruby," he said in a slightly strangled voice as he bend down to slide her off.

     She released and held up the jester's cap she had made him and attempted to put it on his head. He gently grabbed her arm and lowered it.

     "You should hang on to that for now," he said calmly, "I shouldn't take anything with me on this trip..."

     Ruby, clearly not understanding, attempted to put it on him again. Cicero sighed and just allowed it. His heart felt heavy knowing that this could be the last time he ever saw her smiling face. When would she know? How would she know? Who would explain to this little ray of sunshine that he was gone forever? He hadn't even known her that long, but her presence was so warm and inviting that she felt like family right away. Cicero wanted to hug her tightly and cry but he knew that she would feel something wrong. He wasn't quite aware of her empathic nature, but she already feel his anxiety and wanted to comfort him.

     Jade and Nazir arrived at the top of the steps. Both looked distant and concerned. They likely didn't get much sleep either. 

     Cicero glanced at Jade, "You're coming, too?"

     "Yes," She avoided eye contact, "If something happens to you two, I need to be able to bring word back to the others."

     Cicero nodded, also glancing away. His gaze landed on Zukira who was sitting at the dining table in the hall below the landing. They made eye contact. She wanted so badly to go hug Cicero goodbye, but with Jade there... it could cause more unneeded stress on everyone.

     The Dark Brotherhood was at a crossroads; Things would never be the same. The Speaker, Listener, and Keeper began their trek south to the gutted Falkreath Sanctuary to learn their fate.

Chapter Text

     The entrance of the Falkreath Sanctuary was barely recognizable in the dark with rubble and debris covering it. It also looked as if some bandits had recently attempted to enter. The door was badly damaged yet still sealed. Any remains of the Penitus Oculatus attack several months prior had been washed away through storms and scavenged by animals and bandits alike.

     Cicero and Jade dismounted Shadowmere as Nazir dismounted his horse. None of them had spoken since they started the journey; their nerves were on fire as it felt like they were marching to their own execution. A loud, familiar reverberating bass pulsed from the Black Door as they approached.

     "How long should I wait?" Jade asked, finally breaking the silence.

     "Until dawn," Nazir replied confidently, "If we have not emerged by then... I want you to return to Dawnstar and inform the others."

     "Inform them of what?" her voice shook a little.

     "Well, that's for you to figure out," he mumbled and stepped up to the door to recite the passphrase.

     Cicero exchanged worrisome glances with Jade before turning to follow the Speaker. They entered the Sanctuary leaving Jade to the crisp sounds of the dark forest. She hugged her arms and leaned against the wall. It could be a long night...

~

     The Sanctuary reeked of smoke and burned flesh and hair. The thickness of the stale air made it difficult to breathe or see. Nazir picked up a torch and lit it as they moved into the first room.

     "I have to say... it's not good to be back," he groaned. Cicero didn't feel like he could reply. His stomach was doing flips and he felt that if he attempted to speak, he might up and vomit from anxiety. The floor was littered with bones and burnt armor from the previous Brotherhood members and Penitus Oculatus agents. 

     As the men approached the main room, a very large figure could be seen at the top of the stairs near the waterfall at the back. A chill ran up Cicero's spine and he felt sudden existential dread. Nazir moved to the center of the room and knelt down, hanging his head in worship to the figure. Cicero quickly followed suit.

     "Children of Sithis," a deep booming voice rumbled around them, "I represent the flesh of the Void; Sithis incarnate. Come stand before me."

     Nazir placed the torch on the ground and stood up moving to the foot of the steps. Cicero found himself hesitating as his legs grew weak and unstable. He cautiously stepped over looking up at the large figure. The being appeared to be a modified Xivilai, or perhaps an unknown form of Dremora Kyn. His body appeared to be a crude combination of multiple mortal races. His hulking physique was intimidating, to say the least, befitting of an avatar of Sithis.

     "I bring a message from the Void," the beastly figure continued, "Sithis demands satisfaction. The traitorous ways of the mortals have displeased us. Purification after purification has dwindled the fellowship down to few. It's time the Brotherhood is reborn with the ancient blood of the Night Mother."

     Cicero's eye twitched a little. But the Night Mother's body was gone. What could this mean? Surely he knew... wasn't that the reason for this meeting?

     Wrath lifted his arm and pointed to Nazir, "Come forward, my son."

     Nazir never looked away as he climbed the steps with confidence. If he was as afraid as Cicero, he surely wasn't showing it.

     "You are to gather the blood for the soldiers of the Void. A fresh body for all five of Sithis' offspring. Bring them one by one to your Sanctuary. There the sacramental ritual will be performed on their living flesh. For, these will be the new blood to lead the Dark Brotherhood in the name of the Father. Mortals have proven untrustworthy to carry on this responsibility and further."

     Nazir suddenly felt a huge weight upon himself. Was the Brotherhood to be taken over by a new authority? What did this all mean? The souls of the children the Night Mother sacrificed were to return? None of it made sense, but he knew better than to question his orders. 

     Nazir bowed slightly, "Yes, my lord..."

     Wrath lifted his other arm and motioned to Cicero. Nazir descended the steps to make way. It all seemed promising so far. Perhaps they weren't being pulled to the Void for failure after all.
Cicero timidly stepped up to the avatar. He tried his best to put out the same air of confidence the Speaker had, but couldn't stop trembling.

     "The role of Keeper is to change, my child," Wrath's voice could be felt in Cicero's chest, "You are to slay the Listener for the return of the Night Mother, for she will need a fresh vessel devoted to the cause."

     "The Listener-" Cicero began to speak, knowing he shouldn't but for some reason couldn't stop himself, "Lady Jade is the Dragonborn, my lord. This could prove-"

     "The Dragonborn is not viable. Her vessel is tainted for she is with child. The Night Mother demands the pure body of the new Listener. The Dunmer will be sacrificed by your hand and Our Lady Death's enchanted ashes applied to the mortal wound. You will speak the bonding incantation. The Night Mother will no longer require a Listener as she will be reborn."

     Cicero felt like he was about to faint. So much was presented to him at once that he couldn't process it all and instead, his mind went blank.

     "The Keeper will henceforward be tasked in protecting the Night Mother's breathing body from harm and act as a bodyguard obeying her every command," Wrath lifted his head to look at Nazir again, "The Dark Brotherhood will rise again. Failure to complete your orders will result in execution and damnation of your very soul."

     Cicero backed down the steps, staring into space. Nazir, noticing his instability, grabbed his arm to try to snap him out of it.

     "Yes, my lord," Nazir spoke for both of them, "The Brotherhood will not fail again."

~

     Jade leaped up from her sitting position when the door began to open. She felt a rush of relief fall over her when both Nazir and Cicero emerged unharmed.

     "That was a lot quicker than I'd expected," she said running over to them, "Well? What happened?"

     Nazir adjusted the saddle on his horse and pulled himself up. "The Brotherhood has a final chance at redemption," he spoke, glancing back at her, "It's going to be a lot of work, and a lot of adjustment... but the Night Mother will guide us."

     "The Night Mother?" Jade wrinkled her brow and glanced at Cicero who was leaning on the stone wall beside the door, "Did you find out what happened with that?"

     Nazir struck his reins, "I'll meet you both back in Dawnstar." he said before leaving them behind. He knew he had a lot of work ahead of him and needed time to think and prepare.

     Cicero pushed himself off the wall and staggered to Shadowmere. Jade followed him.

     "Well? What are we doing?" Jade pressured.

     "The Wrath- H-... he said I have to kill the Listener..."

     Jade took a step back and placed her hand on her dagger.

     "Not you," Cicero glanced up at her with a very tired expression, "The new Listener... Zukira. Her body is to be the new vessel of the Night Mother..."

     "Vessel...? Wait, are you saying that the initiate is to be the new Night Mother? But I was the Listener... I don't understand what this means."

     "You were deemed unqualified... because you are with child," he said quietly, finally pulling himself up onto the horse.

     "I'm what!?" Jade snapped, "Why would you think that? How coul- he said that? How would he know such a thing? How could I be-" she paused as a rush of dread flowed through her and the pieces all came together. The only man she had been with in months was sitting on the horse before her. This was NOT something she wanted. She was a warrior! She was an assassin! Motherhood was not something she ever saw in her future let alone that very moment... specifically NOT with Mr. Mid-life crisis here.

     Jade clenched her fists glaring up at him. She wanted to scream. She wanted to punch him in the nuts. She wanted to burn the world to the ground. She wanted to believe it was all a hoax.

     Cicero sat quietly looking completely distraught. He was beginning to wish that the Dread Lord had taken him. He couldn't do it. He couldn't kill Zukira. He couldn't wrap his head around having a child with Jade, the most un-motherly woman he'd ever met. He couldn't understand why the Night Mother would put him through this... 

     ...Yet, he'd finally hear her words... through Zukira's voice.

     Cicero closed his eyes and clenched his teeth.

     "I don't believe this. There's no way. I'm not having a child with you," Jade finally spoke.

     "Please, just get on the horse. I want to go home," Cicero replied as he rubbed his hand down his face.

     "This is not happening," she continued as she paced around sounding almost hysterical, "I refuse to believe any of this insanity. I will gut myself with my own dagger before I-"

     "Get on the fucking horse, Jade!" he snapped at her.

     Startled by his language, she paused and glanced back at him. Her furious expression matched his. She remained silent as she slowly made her way over and pulled herself up onto Shadowmere. She struggled to find a way to hold herself up without having to touch him. Cicero snapped the reins and she found herself giving in and holding onto his torso resentfully.

     Her touch made him twitch with rage. He wasn't so much angry at her as he was the entire situation that was suddenly thrust upon him by the cult he had been so loyal to most of his life. Everything that Cicero used to think would bring him immense joy has suddenly fallen into his lap wrapped up in a curse to which he could not escape. His devotion to Sithis had brought him nothing but pain. 

     He had forever longed to hear the voice of the Night Mother... but not like this. 

     He always wanted to feel the pride of having a family... but not like this. 

     He always wanted to please the Dread Lord through his use of the blade to secure the honor of his soul within the Void... but not like this. 

     Was it even worth it anymore?

>>> New character added to the Character Guide Book: Wrath

Chapter Text

    It was very late the following night when Cicero and Jade made it back to Dawnstar. Nazir had already passed on the news of the restructuring of the Brotherhood to the initiates and other assassins. With this, the place seemed quieter than usual. A feeling of heavy unease hung in the air even with no one around.

     Jade had not said a word the entire trip back and she wasn't about to change that as she swiftly made her way to the master bedroom deep within the Sanctuary. Cicero slowed to a stop as he watched her disappear around the bend of the landing with a weak heart. He wasn't sure how to feel about the sensitive situation they now shared but knew he had more time to ponder that than he did about the situation with Zukira...

     How could the Dread Father command him to do this? Cicero tried to tell himself how unfair it was to have to kill someone he loved and just reunited with. But he knew that sacrifice was literally at the core of the Dark Brotherhood. The entire following was brought forth from the Night Mother sacrificing her own children in cold blood to please Sithis. This sort of thing was routine... and in a way, Cicero had already sacrificed himself to the cult.

     Cicero stepped over to Babette's alchemy table to retrieve a small cloth pouch. He emptied its contents before turning and approaching the Night Mother's casket. The ashes of her corpse had been collected and placed into a burial urn surrounded by blossoms of nightshade. Cicero took a deep breath and slowly knelt beside it. He hesitated before opening the lid and gently removing a small handful. The ash felt strangely warm in his palm. He poured the remains into the pouch, mindful not to spill any. Before standing, he took an extra moment to recite the 'spell of bonding' in his head. As the Keeper, he was required to memorize every incantation in the Dark tomes; many of which he had used daily to protect and secure the Night Mother's corpse. The spell of bonding was something he'd never known use for, yet, like the loyal child of Sithis he was, Cicero was thoroughly versed.

     After a few minutes to hone his focus, Cicero stood and tucked the small pouch of ashes into his belt. He tried his best to mask any kind of apprehension as he stiffly made his way down to the living quarters. A warm glow of candlelight poured out of the initiates' room giving a strangely inviting feeling in contrast to the cold dark hallway.

     Cicero quietly stepped into the doorway. Zukira stood with her back to him. She appeared to be reading something. Ruby was surprisingly not in his bed yet... that was a good thing. Cicero felt his stomach turn as he slowly made his way up to her. He paused mid-stride trying to think of a way out of this. Maybe he could put it off somehow? The Night Mother was waiting in the Void for him to follow orders. She had made him wait for eight years in solitude and silence... maybe she could wait a little longer, too.

     Sensing Cicero's presence, Zukira turned and jumped. Her look of surprise quickly changed to one of delight.

     "Master Cicero!" she gasped, "You're back already?"

     "Please don't call me master anymore," he said in a quiet tone.

     "Yes, of course," Zukira could tell by his expression and tone that something was wrong, "I'm sorry..." She held out the book she was reading to him. It was one of the journals he had started writing fifteen years ago. He silently took it from her and stared at the worn cover.

     "I didn't mean to be nosey... I just was interested in-" she paused staring at his pale face. Cicero rubbed his thumb over the leathery cover. The contents of the book were so haunting that he never wanted to read it again and merely kept it as the last remaining documentation of the fall of the Dark Brotherhood. It felt like a different life. So much had changed since he'd arrived in Skyrim almost half a year ago. It had been a long and awkward adjustment but the current events were making his head spin.

     "It's alright," he finally replied glancing up at her, "I wrote them to be read."

     "The Speaker told us what the Wrath had said."

     Cicero felt his heart drop. He stared into her bright crimson eyes but oddly didn't detect any fear or sadness.

     "What did he say?" he cleared his throat.

     "He explained that the children of Sithis are to return!" she said sounding almost excited, "He said that the Brotherhood is going to be under new management and that the Uprising is about to begin!"

     Cicero nodded weakly and placed the journal on the bedside table. Apparently, Nazir had left out Cicero's role in all of this, perhaps for the best. Zukira smiled at him optimistically. It hurt to look at her. She had not smiled much since she had arrived and even less in their youth. She was stunning; the apex of Dunmeri beauty.

     Cicero lifted his shaky hand and touched her cheek gently. He struggled to hide his unease. Zukira inhaled deeply at his touch and closed her eyes. She felt so rejuvenated. Everything seemed to be coming together at last. It all felt like a dream.

     Slowly, Cicero pulled her into a soft kiss. Zukira felt weak in the knees, hesitating for only a moment before leaning in to accept his advances. She'd never truly been kissed before. She'd never been close enough to a man to be embraced in a moment of passion. It felt strange but invigorating as it was everything she had imagined it would be. Many nights over the years she had laid in bed and thought about him. She fantasized about him taking her into his arms and holding her and telling her that he would never abandon her. Since Zukira had first met Cicero at the Cheydinhal Sanctuary, she had wanted to impress him... or at least catch his eye just for a moment. He was so proficient and disciplined and so much more respected than she ever would dream of being. His initial rejection of her only made her crave his attention even more... and now-

     Cicero pulled back a little. Zukira opened her eyes to stare back at him. She could barely breathe, unsure of how to proceed. He ran his hands down to her hips and pulled her close again as he leaned to kiss her neck. She instinctively wrapped her arms around him as she held her breath.

     Cicero inhaled. She smelled like the sweet summer air. Her skin was warm and inviting to his cold touch. He slowly leaned in, lowering her onto the bed. His fingertips moved up under her tunic, tracing the curves of her body. Zukira found herself arching her back to the invigorating sensation and locking her legs around him as if trying to keep him from pulling away.

     Cicero continued to kiss her neck as she ran her fingers through his hair. His breathing became more erratic as he began pulling up at her tunic. Zukira slid her hand down to assist when she suddenly felt a deep burning pain in her abdomen. Her eyes shot open and she inhaled sharply. She could hear Cicero's panting turning into gentle sobbing against her ear.

     "I'm so sorry..." he choked through tears.

     Zukira found that she couldn't take a full breath. A warm sensation spilled across her belly as Cicero gradually pulled away looking down at her. Her eyes shifted to his hand holding a dagger buried in her stomach up to the hilt.

     "I... I never wanted to hurt you..." he cried, holding the blade firmly.

     Zukira lifted her terrified gaze to his tear-stained face. His stare was dim and reflected decades of pain. She opened her mouth to speak but suddenly felt like she was drowning as the metallic taste of blood filled the back of her throat. Cicero carefully removed the blade and set it on the bed beside them.

     "...I don.. I don't understa..nd..." Zukira managed to gasp as her vision began to fade. They never broke eye contact.

     "Neither do I," Cicero whispered with genuine pain in his voice. He leaned forward to hold her as the life drained from her face, "May you find peace in the Dread Father's embrace."

     Zukira's body became heavy and limp in his arms. He cradled her tightly, holding his breath, and, for a moment, wished he could go with her. But it was over. Sithis would be pleased with his sacrifice. It was just one of many. Cicero reached his quivering blood-covered hand to retrieve the pouch of ash from his belt and gently poured the Night Mother's remains into his palm. 

     The room felt cold and empty. Cicero struggled to see through his tears as he softly placed his palm down on the knife wound spreading the ashes over it. The warmth of Zukira's blood made him nauseous. He hated himself. He never really had high self-esteem, to begin with. If something needed to be done, he did it. No questions asked. He was a tool of Sithis and nothing more. His self-worth beyond that was never an issue. But now he hated everything about his existence and the choices that had led him to that moment.

     Cicero cleared his throat and closed his eyes before quietly reciting the bonding incantation. The wound stopped bleeding as the holy ashes seemed to cauterize it. He reached over and grabbed his dagger coated in blood. The sight used to bring him such pleasure and excitement. His bloody blade meant that he was doing his job and doing it well. But now the sight of it brought him overwhelming anguish and regret. He touched the tip of the dagger lightly to his left palm. The sharp tip felt like nothing. He pressed enough to break through the leather glove and ultimately his skin... and still nothing. He felt numb. He felt dead. The irony of worshiping an entity that represented the opposite of existence and life suddenly hit home.

     Cicero's arms felt weak and he dropped the blade back onto the bed. He forced himself up and turned away from the painful scene. His eyes landed on the journal on the bedside table and found himself reaching for it. The chilling silence around him felt so utterly familiar as he picked up the book and flipped it open. 

     There was no use in sitting around crying. The deed was done and there was no turning back... He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand as he scanned over the pages of his journal. His last entry was about six months ago before he had met up with the Falkreath faction. Cicero reached up and grabbed a quill and ink vial from the table and took a seat on the floor beside the bed.

     While in hiding for eight years, Cicero had found it calming to distract himself with reading and writing. The Dark Brotherhood was changing so rapidly and it needed to be documented. His unsteady breathing settled as he dipped the quill and began to write. The role of Keeper had not changed much according to the Avatar. Now, Cicero was to protect the Night Mother's mortal body at all cost, thus he knew he must stand vigil until the transition was complete... however long that may take. Dear, loyal Cicero was quite used to waiting for the Night Mother. That's what he lived and killed for. Ever so patient... 

     The Night Mother was to be re-awoken and he would be the first to welcome her.

Chapter Text

11th of Sun's Height, 4E 202

     So much has happened since my last entry. Life in the Dark Brotherhood will never be the same. Astrid, the matron of the Falkreath Sanctuary turned out to be a traitor, exactly as I had predicted. Through preemptive planning, I was able to escape her reach as she had sent the Dragonborn to end my pathetic life. Astrid dug a hole for herself and her followers straight down to the Void itself! How foolish she was to think that Sithis would overlook her rejection of the Night Mother's holy word.

     Fortunately for me, I was able to remind the Dragonborn that, as Listener, she held the most sacred of roles in the Brotherhood and she herself could not deny the sweet voice of the Night Mother in her head. With the Listener on my side, it was not long before the false sanctuary fell under the weight of its own betrayal of the old ways.

     I was cautious about integrating myself with the remaining members, Nazir (the new Speaker) and Babette (the vampiric un-child). Thankfully, the Listener allowed me readmittance to the refreshed Dawnstar Sanctuary where I had been holed up for the previous few months before making contact with Astrid in person. Having the Listener also be the Dragonborn has given the future of the Brotherhood a whole new level of potential.

     Six months have passed since Jade the Listener joined our family. It's been... shall we say, an adjustment. Not every hero is humble. Not every savior is a martyr. Not every Listener listens to reason. Our personal relationship is jaded, no pun intended. Not only has she grown tired of me constantly questioning her intentions, but I have also become frustrated with her seemingly careless decisions as well.

     Tragically, not too long after things began to settle, I noticed the Night Mother's corpse was beginning to crumble. This had never happened before! As the Keeper, I've been absolutely vigilant in keeping up with the care of our Mother! I began to suspect vandalism by the hand of my fellow Dark Siblings now that we had initiates in training. Perhaps even one of the two remaining members of Astrid's "acolytes" was trying to make a point. The was nothing- NOTHING I could do to stop the progression of the deterioration.

     As if on queue, a new initiate soon arrived from Morrowind. She was straight out of my past. Zukira, the stunning Dunmer I had once mentored in Cheydinhal. She seemed to have more memory of me than I had of her. I didn't realize how fated this reunion would be until a few weeks later...

     It was around this time that I began to feel different. Not just physically and mentally, but also about the Brotherhood itself. I began to ponder my services over the years; something I had never done before. I began fantasizing about what life may have been without all of the sacrifices I'd suffered for the Brotherhood. I may have even thought about leaving. But a Dark Brother could never just leave on their own accord. That was a death sentence. 

     The madness I had been blessed with had seemingly turned to anger and resentment overnight. Thoughts of purification passed through my newly cleared mind. I found myself saying and doing things I would have never assumed myself capable of before. At least, not since I was a young man scratching my way up the ranks. I still question who I am from time to time. I feel as if my very soul is tangled in a web of existential despair.

     ...

     I laid with the Listener. It was not planned- at least not by me. I had fought off her advances for months. I knew she didn't actually want me. She just wanted control. Like the fool that I am, I gave in under the influence of the drink. She won.

     Upon returning from a misguided trip to Riften where many many poor choices were made, it was discovered that the Night Mother's corpse had completely turned to ash. The devastation I felt could not be described. I blamed myself. Then, Zukira spoke the binding words. Mother had spoken to her and given her a message. But why? She was not the Listener... Zukira was told that The Speaker and the Keeper were to meet with the Wrath of Sithis- the Dread Lord incarnate...

     Orders from the Void: We were each given an assignment. Speaker Nazir was to collect living vessels for the ultimate return of the children of the Sithis. Their souls were to rejoin to flesh and lead the Dark Brotherhood in a new uprising. As for the Keeper... me, I was tasked with slaying dear Zukira as a means for the Night Mother herself to return in the flesh.

     Now here I am, covered in the blood of the one who loved me. 

     For the Brotherhood. 

     For the Night Mother. 

     For the Dread Father. 

     One more soul for the Void. 

     One more sacrifice for Cicero! 

     Now I wait for Mother's return. It could take hours... days... months!! But I wait. I will wait forever. This is the duty of the Keeper. I live to serve. This is who I am. Is it?

     ...As a shameful footnote, beyond the events with the Listener in Riften, I've learned that I'm to be a father now as well. Or am I? With Jade of all people. The Listener. No longer the Listener. She hates me. I hate her. I don't hate her. I hate how she treats me. I'm afraid. I'm afraid of the future heartbreak in store for me beyond the blood on my shaking hands. Though, I have no one to blame but myself.

12th of  Sun's Height , 4E 202

     Ruby, a sweet yet mysterious elf we had rescued a few months back, has joined me a the foot of the bed as I wait for Mother. Through a language barrier, I was unable to explain to her why Zukira was dead. The fear and confusion in her eyes seemed to settle as she cuddled up close. She is unable to speak for unknown reasons yet it's as if she can feel my thoughts. She seems sad, but through her warm smile, I can tell she wants to comfort me.

     Sage, one of the initiates, has been helping care for Ruby. Apparently, he's been doing a bit of research on Falmer. He and Babette came up with the theory that she is a snow elf from ages past, inexplicably frozen in time within the ruins. Due to a careless mishap, the Listener and I had broken a valve releasing some steam which was likely what thawed her... why there was still steam moving through the pipes at that location, I'm not sure. 

     Initiate Sage is a wood elf and claims to already know a bit of the mer languages through schooling. From what I can gather, he was training as a historical scholar before joining the Brotherhood and enjoys studying. Besides his love for cooking, this is all I know about the kid. I can tell he has been struggling to speak in the tongue of the Falmer seeing as there are no remaining members of the race to coach him on pronunciation. Though Ruby's face lights up when he attempts, she still doesn't seem to fully understand what he is trying to say. This is all good for me. Having Sage looking after Ruby excuses me enough time to deal with everything else falling apart around me. 

     Babette has brought us some stew. She didn't say anything when she saw Zukira's body. Not even a look of surprise. She already knew.

13th of  Sun's Height , 4E 202

     The Speaker must have informed the others of the situation. Several initiates have placed candles outside the doorway. Perhaps in solidarity... perhaps in mourning. Ruby has stayed by my side the last few nights. Though she says nothing, her presence has been a blessing.

     The Listener has not been near the room. I have not even heard her voice. I understand that she is shaken and upset about the sudden turn of events. Her having to bear the child of a man she could hardly stand and was most likely ashamed to even admit to having laid with. I wish to speak with her and put her mind at ease, but I fear that it would only make things worse. I'm afraid of what her intentions may be.

     I also wonder if she will tell anyone. What then, when Ruby learns of this? Will she be heartbroken as well? It seems that no matter what I do, I'm always unintentionally hurting the females in my life. Jade was right. I'm not cut out for 'normalcy'. Tragedy finds me no matter where I hide. Best to embrace it as the strings of fate strangle me.

14th of  Sun's Height , 4E 202

     She stirs!   ̷Z̷u̷k̷i̷r̷a̷'̷s̷ ̷b̷o̷d̷y̷  the vessel has taken its first breath and appears to be reviving! Her chest rises and falls weakly but this surely means that Mother is here! She is gaining strength! Ruby shares my excitement, though I'm quite sure she does not understand what is happening. I will refrain from informing the others until the rebirth is fully realized. My own body tingles with anticipation. I can barely keep quill to parchment! Cicero is here for you, Mother! Cicero has ALWAYS been here! The Dark Brotherhood will rise again!

Chapter Text

     Cicero's shoulders slumped as he dozed off with his back against the side of the bed. He tried to be a good Keeper and stay awake as long as he could to welcome the Matron back to her dark Family, but almost a day had passed since the vessel started breathing again and no changes had been noted. His head bobbed, resting his chin on his chest for a few moments before he'd startle himself awake due to lack of airflow. He couldn't properly breathe through his broken nose and his throat was dry from trying to sleep with his mouth open.

     Cicero inhaled through his teeth and glanced down at Ruby who had her head on his lap like a puppy. She was sleeping easily. Everything she did seemed carefree and she deserved it in his opinion. She was subject to a life of servitude to the Dwemer being forced to do Gods know what against her will. She was fortunate to be able to release the anxiety of that life now.

     Ruby's noticeably high body heat on his leg was coaxing him back to sleep again. Cicero convinced himself that it would be okay. Just a few more minutes of micro-napping wouldn't hurt. He slouched down and put his head back against the hay-stuffed mattress, licking his dry lips several times before attempting to doze with his mouth slightly agape. He rested his hand on the side of Ruby's head gently and lightly stroked her ear with his thumb.

     The room felt so cold tonight. As Cicero drifted he almost felt as if he were sinking into death's embrace. He began to dream of the Void and the nothingness it was. The eternal emptiness where souls went to be devoured and forgotten. The opposite of existence. The opposite of pain. As the nihilistic dream washed over him, a warmth grew around his face. The stark contrast drew him out of the Void and he felt alive again. The comforting caress was something he had not felt since he was a very small child in his mother's arms... mother...

     "My child," a familiar and knowing voice hummed, "My dear, sweet Cicero."

     Cicero's eyes shot open and he lurched forward causing Ruby to bounce from his lap completely disoriented. Zukira-... Mother sat on the edge of the bed, her eyes dim but subtle life twinkled within them. Ruby panicked seeing this. She did not understand what she was looking at. 

     Cicero trembled. "...Mother...?" he could barely speak, sitting up on his knees in a more attentive position.

     "Thank you, my trusted Keeper," Mother spoke in a raspy tone as she lifted her hand to touch his face. She was barely managing to keep her composure as she was suddenly overwhelmed with emotion. It felt so wonderful to be mortal once again. The sensation and warmth of the flesh were something she had missed so dearly. "...You have served the Dread Father and I well all these years."

     Mother took a deep shaky breath and slowly rose to her feet. Cicero quickly fumbled to stand and assist her. He took her under the elbow to support her weakened stance. Ruby cautiously stood to join them, watching in both wonder and apprehension as Cicero struggled to find the words. Mother was finally speaking to him. She said his name. His entire life had seemingly led to that very moment. Perhaps not in the form he had anticipated- hearing Mother through Zukira's voice... but it was her. He could finally hear her words.

      Cicero's eyes flooded over with tears as he tried desperately to think of what he wanted to say. For a decade he thought about what he would speak to her about. He had spoken to her corpse relentlessly, but of course, she never replied. Now was his chance and he couldn't even put two words together. Cicero had always been a very well-spoken man... but now all he could muster was-

     "Ma..."

     Ruby held her hands close to her chest as she watched. The intense flood of emotions filling the room felt like it was choking her. She could barely breathe. Her eyes drifted over Mother's blood-stained robes. This resurrection was unlike anything she'd ever seen before. And this person... she was not the same one who had originally inhabited this body. Only a faint signature of the timid initiate remained, so who was she now? Someone new... someone powerful. Someone who Cicero has been pining over for years to invoke such tragic emotions.

     Mother's eyes lifted to meet Ruby's. "What is this..." she said under her breath, reaching out to lift Ruby's chin, tilting her head slightly. She seemed interested in the Falmer's unnatural red eye.

     "Mother... th- this is Ruby," Cicero stammered, "The Listener and I found her-"

     "You sneaky prince..." Mother sneered and released Ruby's face.

     Before she could continue, Babette leaned in the doorway. Her eyes were wide and full of awe; a very unnatural expression for the typically somber-faced 'un-child'.

     "She's here..." she gasped under her breath and quickly ran back down the hall, "SHE'S HERE!!"

     Mother leaned on her Keeper and carefully lowered herself back onto the edge of the bed. Cicero knelt down beside her, subconsciously trying to show his respect by remaining below her stature.

     "How do you feel?" he asked finally.

     "Like a newborn fawn," she smiled at him. Somehow, her smile was different than Zukira's... but it made his heart flutter just the same.

     Mother's gaze lifted to Ruby once more as the clamoring of the other Brotherhood members grew near. Ruby fidgeted as she glanced back and forth between Cicero and the vessel formerly known as Zukira.

     Nazir was the first to enter the room and he immediately dropped to his knee to grovel as he did for the Avatar. Babette hesitated but followed suit as the other initiates lingered at a distance, uncertain of the importance of the moment.

     "Do not kneel before me," Mother spoke boldly, "I am not a queen nor a goddess. I am your matron."

     Nazir respectfully rose to his feet with the others. Cicero began to stand as well but Mother placed her hand on his shoulder and held him down by her side. He did not resist. Kneeling beside her and looking back at the others felt strange. Was she making a gesture to show his separation from the others in rank? What even was his rank anymore? Mother raised her hand and motioned to Nazir to come closer. He obeyed and bowed lightly.

     "My Lady," he spoke in a deep and gentle tone.

     "Nazir. The Speaker," she said firmly, "That rank is no longer required, for I now have a voice of my own. In the short time you have held this position, I've noticed strong devotion and focused management. And for this, I bestow upon you a new title and role within the Family. You are a strategist whose guidance and advice will be required for success henceforward. My wise Nazir, I promote you to Thinker."

     "A Morag Tong rank?" Sage interrupted. Everyone looked at him in surprise as he stepped forward from the gathering of initiates, symbolically breaking rank. 

     The Night Mother smiled subtly. "And you must be a Thinker in training."

     "Well... I do enjoy reading. History and religion are my forte."

     "Like a Spinner. Interesting. Prove your worth to the Brotherhood and perhaps we will give you a proper title as well, initiate."

     Sage bowed his head and took a step back to rejoin the others, "Yes, Mother."

     Jade finally stepped around the corner. Her tardiness was a clear sign of her lack of care or understanding of the situation. Her eyes fell onto Mother with a hint of skepticism.

     "Ah," Mother's subtle smile faded, "The Dragonborn comes. My Listener..."

     Jade remained silent. The tension in the room was palpable. Cicero flinched trying to get her attention. He wanted to make sure she showed the proper respect. Knowing Jade's track record... it was a coin toss.

     "I'm no longer your Listener," Jade spoke confidently.

     "You are correct," Mother replied with parental certainty, "Your rank has also been expunged. Though, it was short-lived, you did as you were told."

     Jade struggled to stand proudly under the Night Mother's judgmental stare. It felt like she was looking right through her. That, and seeing Zukira- the initiate she had slammed for fraternizing with Cicero- taking such a controlling role. Everything about that moment made her feel nauseous.

     "I have a contract for each of you," Mother glanced around the room, "As you know, I'm not the only soul to be pulled from the Void back onto this plane. If my children are to join me, they will also need bodies. Specific targets have been chosen based on various factors and criteria to best aid in our Uprising. These vessels will be obtained alive. As my children have little knowledge or skill as a mortal, they will need to rely on the memories of the victim by taking over their identity entirely."

     Nazir nodded. He had been preparing for this both mentally and constructively. Babette had assisted him in concocting the poisons they would need to incapacitate the marks long enough to transport them back to the Sanctuary for the soul transfer as Sithis demanded.

     "Nazir and Babette will head to Ivarstead to collect an elusive Khajiit vessel. He's a disciple of Daedric Prince Sanguine, so be wary. I will have more details for you after I rest."

     "Yes, Matron," Nazir bowed again. Babette opened her mouth clearly having questions but refrained.

     "Initiate," Mother continued, glancing back over to Sage, "Show me what you've got. Being a 'scholar', I'd like for you to retrieve the vessel of a Thalmor Justiciar. You'll find her patrolling the College of Winterhold campus."

     Surprised by the assignment, Sage stared into space for a moment before nodding in understanding. 

     "My former Listener," Mother said turning to Jade again, "In Whiterun you will find an Argonian sell-sword. A battle-mage. He should not be a problem for you alone. I understand that you are quite talented at picking up males."

     Jade crossed her arms and glowered, but chose to bite her tongue. Lashing back at the Night Mother before a room full of her devotees would not earn her any favors.

     Mother finally turned to Cicero, "And you, my ever faithful Keeper. I wish you to escort me to Markarth to claim an Orsimer vessel. She is of the Cult of Namira and well versed in hand-to-hand combat."

     "Escor- you want to come with me?" Cicero sounded uncertain.

     "It has been many centuries since I have walked upon Nirn and I wish to experience the beauty I left behind," she mused.

     "Markarth can be a very dangerous city. Recently, there's been an uptick in Forsworn activity-"

     "Are you not my Keeper?" she interrupted boldly.

     "...Y-yes, of course. My apologies. Your loyal Cicero will keep you from harm, sweet Mother."

     "That's only four," Sage interjected again, "Who will obtain the fifth vessel?"

     "The final vessel is a formidable one and must be retrieved with discretion and subtlety. He is a Redguard from Riften. A member of the Thieves Guild. The Keeper and the Dragonborn will work together to obtain this vessel. The Thieves Guild must NOT be privy to any of this before or after the transfer. The Dark Brotherhood must maintain their trust. Killing a member would put a strain on our business relationship."

     Jade exchanged glances with Cicero. Too late.

     "I will give you all more details by dusk tomorrow," Mother's voice sounded slightly weary.

     "Please, Mother," Cicero gently took her arm, "Allow me to take you to the master quarters to rest. You must regain your strength."

     Jade's eye twitched.

     "I'll get you some food and clean robes to change into," Babette said passively as she and the others began to disperse.

     Mother leaned on Cicero as he helped her to her feet and slowly assisted her toward the door. Jade attempted to step out of the way but felt something press against her abdomen. She looked down to see that the Night Mother held her hand against her. Her hand pressed firm despite her weakened state. Startled, Jade glanced back up and their eyes met.  Mother's face was firm and emotionless as she leaned in and whispered in passing, "She, too, will be given to Sithis. Welcome to Dark Motherhood."

     Jade's face went pale. The Night Mother pulled away and leaned onto Cicero's shoulder as he continued to assist her out of the room. He was clearly oblivious to what had just been said as he smiled, delighted to be by Mother's side. 

     Those words... coming from the Night Mother... What did she mean by that...?

Chapter Text

      Jade leaned over the alchemy table squinting at a piece of parchment that Babette had scribbled down a recipe for a potent paralysis potion on. It was meant to be strong enough to knock out the target for up to twenty hours; long enough to get him back to the Sanctuary alive and prepare for the soul transfer as commanded by the Avatar. She stared at the vial in her hand containing the mixture she had just produced. It wasn't very much and didn't even have an odor. Would it be enough, though? Alchemy was not Jade's forte. Neither was calculating or thinking in general. If a contract didn't involve sneaking, stealing, or stabbing, she wasn't interested. But, this time she didn't have a choice.

     From the corner of her eye, Jade noticed Cicero coming in from the outside corridor. She turned to see that he had his arms full of... flowers. Nightshade, deathbells, and even red and blue mountain flowers that grew further south. He stopped when he noticed her watching him.

     "Flowers...?" Jade inquired.

     "Yeah... I-..." he fidgeted a little.

     The awkward moment of silence caused Jade to blush uncharacteristically. "A-are those for me?" she asked, trying not to smile.

     Cicero's eyes widened, "N-... Well, I got- oh... these are for Mother-"

     Jade quickly turned back to the alchemy table before he finished stammering. She pretended to continue mixing ingredients with the mortar and pestle even though she was long finished. Cicero bit his lips together realizing the error of his words. He hesitated before silently moving past and continuing his way to the living quarters.

     Hearing his footsteps fade, Jade put down the mortar and leaned on the table hanging her head. She exhaled her humiliation through her teeth. Why did she care? She'd made it very clear to Cicero that she never liked him and barely thought of him as a man, to begin with. She loathed him even more now that she was-

     "Well, if she's the Dragonborn, does that mean she'll lay an egg?" Babette's voice echoed from around the bend.

     "I think that's only if she mates with an actual dragon," Sage's voice chuckled as their footsteps drew closer.

     Jade frowned and stepped around the corner right into the path of the two gossiping brats. Sage released a startled yelp upon seeing her and almost collided with Babette.

     "Listener!" Babette laughed, not at all ashamed that Jade had heard, "How's the potion coming along?"

     "What were you saying, un-child!?" Jade barked.

     "Oh, I'm sorry. That's right. You are no longer the Listener," Babette crossed her arms and beamed up at her, "What should we address you as now? Dragon-momma?"

     Sage didn't join in the humor. He looked increasingly uncomfortable feeling trapped in the doorway. Two powerful females were having a spat and he didn't want to be part of it.

     "So everyone knows, huh?" Jade hissed.

     "Oh, Gods, yes. I'm sure word has made it all across Skyrim by now. The Dragonborn, brought down in her prime by the seed of a madman. How romantic. Are you two going to settle down and raise a circus of jester babies?"

     "FUS RO- DAH!!!"

     Babette suddenly found herself airborne with the unrelenting force of the Dovahkiin's shout. Her tiny body slammed into Sage who was now thinking, 'What did I do!?' as they both were thrown backward down the corridor. 

     Jade curled her lip and stormed away leaving the two piled in a heap on the rope bridge above the training hall.

     "...Worth it," Babette grunted while sitting up and raking her tangled hair from her face.

     "Speak for yourself..." Sage mumbled, holding his arm in pain as he struggled to stand.

     "Don't I always?"

~

     Jade entered the initiates' quarters where she was forced to sleep since the Night Mother had claimed the master room. The whole transition hit hard. Not just having to sleep with the 'underlings', but having her title stripped and realizing now that she was no longer considered a leader within the Brotherhood... not that she really did anything to earn that right, to begin with... but it was the principle that stung. Jade felt alienated being dethroned just as the awkward news of her 'mistake' with Cicero began to surface. She lived off of the worship and admiration of others but now she felt like a walking joke.

    To prepare for her trip to Whiterun, Jade began changing her armor to blend in better in a city of fellow Nords. Besides, it seemed rather fitting to discard her Dark Brotherhood leathers in favor of her old signature family armor. Though originally from Eastern High Rock, the Winter-Heart clan were well known throughout the Rift for generations. Mostly via the taverns as gossip and tales of adventure to share with transients. The men were big and intimidating and the women were voluptuous yet formidable. Jade prided herself on her strong Nordic bloodline. But now, after laying with an Imperial...

     "...Hey..." Cicero's voice mumbled from behind her. 

     She jumped and clasped her arms over her chest as she fumbled with her armor before turning around, "I'm changing in here!"

     "I've seen 'em before." 

     Jade grunted and quickly fastened the armor together. Cicero sauntered closer and held his hand out to her. She glanced up to see him holding a single deathbell blossom.

     "I didn't know you liked flowers..." he said awkwardly.

     Jade squinted. His attempt at redemption was almost more insulting than the initial oversight. She turned away and began strapping her holster onto her belt. "Do I look like a woman who likes flowers?" she grumbled.

     "I-... I don't know..." Cicero withdrew his hand to examine the flower and pull lightly on the petals. Jade lowered to the floor to pull her boots on. Cicero casually took a seat on the bed and watched.

     "That's uh- quite a unique set of armor," he said trying to force conversation.

     "Is there something you want?"

     "I wanted to talk to you."

     "Then talk," Jade sighed as she struggled with her boot, half relieved to have something to distract her. She hated feeling awkward. Embarrassment was one of her biggest fears and was the number one reason why she was so flighty; always ready to disappear at the first sign of an uncomfortable situation. She knew this wasn't going to be pleasant and was hoping to avoid the entire discussion until at least after the first mission was completed.

     Cicero cleared his throat, "I'm not a bad person," he glanced down at the flower again, "I may enjoy stabbing and mischief and poorly timed jokes... but I would never hurt you."

     Jade paused and glanced over at him. What the heck was he getting at?

     "I didn't wish for this to happen," he continued, "It was an accident and I intend to be responsible whether or not you want to have anything to do with this in the end... just-" his voice lowered, "Just don't do anything foolish, please."

     Jade's glare weakened a little as she stared at him silently. It must have been something about his upbringing that made him think like this. No Nord she had ever known would have spoken about this touchy subject in such a focused and gentle manner. It was refreshing but also unnerving. It merely highlighted the poor choices she'd made in her life with the quality of men she chose to hook up with prior. She wasn't sure why she suddenly felt anxious and she did what she always did when things got too real.... she deflected.

     "Didn't your papa ever tell you that you're supposed to pull out?" she joked and began working on getting her other boot on.

     "Well, I'm sorry," Cicero replied in a snarky tone and glanced away, "I guess I'm not all that educated on the formal 'ins-and-outs' of sex." 

     A beat passed between them before he chuckled at his own joke. 

     Jade sighed, "I'm just... I'm the hero. The Dragonborn. I defeated the World-Eater. I took down armies of Daedric cultists. I've infiltrated the Thalmor embassy undetected. I've even partied with Sanguine himself!"

     "Indeed," Cicero grinned, "I was there."

     "I am feared by many and worshiped by many more. Bards sing ballads of my adventures. I'm... a legend and I'm only twenty-something."

     Cicero scoffed but quickly composed himself, "Plus a decade," he chuckled under his breath.

     Jade scowled but her expression quickly softened. She almost looked desperate. "I'm-... I think I'm afraid."

     "Of who? I'll kill 'em!" Cicero smirked.

     "I'm afraid of being vulnerable... and this-" she dramatically gestured to her stomach, "... THIS makes me vulnerable."

     "Just recently, I've seen you at your most vulnerable," Cicero said softly, sliding off the bed and kneeling beside her, "and even then, you exuded nothing but power and grace."

     "Crying and snotting on myself," she lamented.

     "What, are you afraid you'll lose your amazing figure?"

     "Maybe a little."

     "I don't think you have anything to worry about," Cicero explained, "Motherhood simply makes a woman all that more beautiful and divine," leaning on his knee, he offered the flower to her again.

     "You won't be thinking that when I'm busting the seams on my armor and throwing dishes at your head," she said as she took it from his fingers.

     "How is any of that different from now?" he smiled a toothy grin trying to lighten the conversation. 

     Jade frowned, "What's that supposed to mean?"

     "Don't worry. If someone says anything, I will always reply with, 'That's not a horker! That's the Dragonborn!'"

     Jade smacked him across the face. Cicero quickly slinked away laughing. Perhaps it wasn't the best timing, but his jokes never were well planned. At least he managed to distract Jade away from her worries for the moment. 

     Jade huffed and climbed to her feet, "Have fun in Markarth with Mother," she said, stepping around him, "Don't get stabbed."

     "Have fun in Whiterun!" Cicero chirped back, "Don't get bit by a werewolf!"

     She grinned slyly, "Why? You wouldn't want your only child to be a puppy? You could take her on walks and teach her to fetch!"

     "Her?" Cicero stood up as well.

     "Or, you know... him."

     "Are you hoping for a girl?"

     "What? No. Do we always have to assume it's a male by default? Maybe you're hoping it's a boy. Maybe I should be asking you what's up? Why are you so suspicious?" she said speaking rapidly, "She could be a girl. Not like I would even know. Why? Why is it strange that I'd think that?"

     "You're talking really fast... I didn't think anything was strange until you started rambling-"

     "Don't forget to say goodbye to Ruby," Jade attempted to change the subject, "Markarth is a long trip and she may not understand why you are gone for so long."

     "Are you okay?"

     "I'm fine. Yeah, totally fine. Nothing's wrong," she began fidgeting as she tried to sheathe her blade, "Hormones. Crazy, hysterical women. Am I right? Keep it up and I may start crying randomly, or something," she forced a chuckle, "Good talk. We should get going..."

    "Yeah..."

     Jade threw her pack over her shoulder and quickly slipped out of the room without another word. That was weird.

Chapter Text

     It was around dusk when Cicero and Mother arrived at the Markarth stables just outside of the city gates. The trip felt longer than usual for Cicero as the events of the previous days were still processing in his mind. He wanted so badly to speak to Mother and learn more about her but it had proved impossible on horseback. His humble and persistent awe-struck demeanor also wasn't helping.

     Cicero was the first off his horse, handing the reins to the stable master and quickly moving to assist Mother to dismount hers. She graciously took his hand and slid down safely.

     "I have never had the honor to visit this ancient city," she said as she gazed up at the tall bronze gates before them, "It's quite impressive. The Dwarven architecture is unmistakable. Which reminds me. That little Falmer you have?"

     "Miss Ruby."

     "Have you tried to remove her shackles?"

     "Of course," Cicero replied, placing his hand on the small of Mother's back to respectfully guide her through the open gates, "No amount of sawing or cutting could even breach them. I feel horrible that she still wears the bondage of her time-"

     "They're enchanted," Mother interrupted, "A unique Dwarven technology with an ancient enchantment imbued into the metal."

     Cicero stopped walking and glanced at her, "Enchanted...? Then why was no one able to see-"

     "Ancient Dwarven enchantment, my dear," she repeated, "Not like the modern enchantments you see today. I instructed the 'scholar' Bosmer to take her with him to Winterhold. He might be able to find something or someone there to aid in the removal."

     "Very wise, Mother!" Cicero cheered, "Wise indeed! I'd expect nothing less of your Grace!"

     Mother smiled warmly back at him and held out her elbow. He promptly hooked his arm in hers and continued into the marketplace. Though Zukira's vessel was visibly younger than him, Cicero felt like a proud young initiate escorting his older and wiser mentor.

     "Oh, this body," Mother sighed, "To feel this young and beautiful again... such a gift."

     "A gift from the Dread Lord," Cicero hummed, "He is kind to us, he is..."

     As they passed through the market plaza, many of the merchant stands appeared to be closing up shop for the night. Mother nudged Cicero's arm and began pulling him toward one of the stalls.

     "Just locking things up, ma'am," the young woman behind the booth said, "I can sell you anything you see here that hasn't been put away."

     "Was there something you'd like?" Cicero asked as he noticed Mother's interest. He couldn't help but smile at how 'normal' her reaction was to see all of the beautiful jewelry. It was very... feminine.

     "I think it would be thoughtful of you to get your Miss Ruby a necklace," Mother scanned over the glass display cases. It almost sounded like an order.

     "A... necklace?"

     "Yes. Ladies enjoy jewelry. It would be symbolic to give her something to replace that collar."

     Cicero smiled, "Indeed, Mother! Such a wonderful gesture! I don't know much about jewelry. I don't wear it myself..." he glanced up at the merchant, "What would a lovely young female about your age find appealing?"

     The woman blushed, "Well, I have a gold ruby necklace for 550 gold," she said pointing to one of the glass lockboxes.

     Cicero leaned over to look. It was magnificent. Like something a queen would wear... maybe. At the very least, it was shiny. He glanced into his small coin purse knowing he didn't have more than 50 gold on him.

     "Do you have anything... smaller?" he asked in a squeak.

     The woman shrugged, "I have a plain silver ring and a jade brooch imported from Cyrodiil. That's about it, sir..."

     Cicero's eyes drifted to the jade brooch when he felt a yank on his arm. He stumbled as Mother pulled him away from the stall.

     "Keeper, I am disappointed in you," she grumbled in a low judgmental tone and placed her hand on his shoulder, leaning down to his ear to whisper.  Cicero stared into space as she explained her plan to him. A smile grew across his lips and he nodded. Mother patted him on the arm and stepped away again.

     Cicero re-approached the booth and pointed to the glass lockbox. "May I see the silver ring?" he asked while trying to sound casual, his voice a bit too high.

     "Of course..." the merchant sighed and opened the box with a key and held the ring out to him. Cicero picked it up to examine it when it slipped from his grasp and fell to the ground, rolling across the stone walkway.

     "Oh, clumsy!" he gasped, "I didn't see where it rolled to! It's too dark!"

     The merchant panicked and stepped around the side of the stand, dropping to the ground and feeling around frantically. Cicero's foot just so happened to land on top of the ring, hiding it from her view.

     "No!" the merchant girl cried, "My father will kill me! Please! Help me find it!"

     Cicero glanced at Mother from the corner of his eye as she casually stepped around them and toward the stall. With a quick and subtle flail of her sleeve as she brushed past, she continued toward the local inn without breaking her stride.

     "Please, sir!" The girl pleaded as she glanced up at Cicero.

     He smiled, noticing that the gold ruby necklace was no longer in the case. He lifted his foot slightly and tapped the silver ring with the toe of his boot.

     "Silly me, here it is," Cicero knelt to retrieve it, "Butterfingers, I am." he held his hand out to the young woman to help her to her feet. She huffed as he handed her back the ring.

     "I really should be closing," she mumbled, "My father doesn't want me out here after dark." 

     "Of course! Of course! A beautiful young woman such as yourself should be mindful at this hour. Lots of creeps and cheats abound..." Cicero bowed, "Have a lovely evening, ma'am."

     As the girl returned to her stand to finish closing shop, Cicero nonchalantly made his way across the plaza to meet up with Mother at the inn. The plan was simple and an easy success. Cicero was surprised that she had suggested getting the necklace for Ruby, to begin with, but perhaps her intention was to test their teamwork and coordination. Oh, clever Mother. So wise and prepared- 

     "You prefer the feel of ebony between your fingers..." a strange female voice whispered from nearby.

     Cicero turned, startled to see an ominous cloaked woman standing only a few feet behind him. Her face was obscured by the shadows of her hood. Something about her voice made the hairs go up on the back of his neck. Where in Oblivion did she come from!? The entire market plaza was vacant with the exception of the few remaining merchants closing their stands. Only someone with exceptional stealth could sneak up on Cicero so easily and be so close without being detected.

     "I... I do," he replied, lowering his hand to his dagger sheathed upon his hip. "Though, more specifically anything sharp enough to the cut bone," 

     "I have something that may interest you, traveler..."

     Cicero hesitated though his curiosity was peaked, "I'm listening..."

     The strange woman lifted her hands from beneath her long cloak. Upon her palms rested a long, narrow, two-handed blade. Cicero cautiously moved closer to see, captivated by the subtle red glow of its enchantment.

     "I'm more of a dagger man, myself-" he said not sounding so convinced.

     "This blade of ebony is no mere weapon," the mysterious woman whispered, "It brings great power to its wielder... your victims will be more than happy to accept their fates which you will bestow upon them."

     Cicero wasn't sure what that even meant, but something about this intricately etched black sword called to him. His hand lifted from his holster and rested lightly on the hilt of the long blade being presented. It was quite warm to the touch. The gentle heat seemed to radiate through his fingertips and gradually up into his palms. Startled, Cicero quickly pulled his hand away.

     "Why are you offering this to me?" he asked skeptically, his eyes still locked on the weapon.

     "I've been watching you, traveler. I've seen your passion..."

     Cicero glanced up at her. He still could not make out her face. Everything about this situation felt suspicious and alarmingly threatening. He felt like he was making a deal with a Daedra... 

     But that sword, though!

     "What do you ask in exchange? My soul? Because I can assure you, that belongs to Sithis," Cicero's tone was mocking, but his genuine interest was made clear as he placed his fingers on the hilt of the weapon again. The warmth calmed his nerves.

     "All I ask is that you use it," she whispered.

     Cicero hesitated knowing good and well that there had to be a catch... but that deep black metal called to him. So shiny and warm. It seemed to be begging him to take it. A chill ran up his spine when he finally wrapped his hand around the hilt and lifted it from the woman's palms. It was deceptively light.

     Almost instantly, Cicero could feel the heat rising up his arm and filling his body. He closed his eyes and accepted the inexplicably familiar embrace. Taking a deep breath, his mind filled with lust for blood.

     "Why did you kill her?" the woman asked, her whisper radiating in his head.

     Cicero's eyes shot open. She was gone. He spun around searching the street for her. There was no one around besides the gate guards who were watching him suspiciously.

     "She trusted you... and you killed her in love's embrace..." the voice continued from very close by.

     Cicero lifted the sword and examined it. The enchantment glistened in the darkness. It almost felt alive. Was it... was it talking to him?

     "I-... I was told to," he stammered.

     "How did it feel to betray the one who loved you?" the disembodied voice asked.

     "I-..." he paused. He couldn't remember how he felt. He knew he cried. He knew it was against his own wishes... but now the memory of the slaughter made him feel warm inside.

     "Feed it..." the voice whispered as it faded, "Feed your lust, mortal."

     The air grew cold as the last of the sunlight drained from the sky. The sounds of the evening gradually came flooding back in as Cicero's mind cleared. He could hear a bard singing and people chattering nearby. He turned and glanced back at the Silver-Blood Inn across the street. He needed to find Mother and begin gathering information about the vessel they had come to retrieve. Better not keep her waiting. 

     As haunting as the encounter with the mysterious woman was, Cicero felt a lingering sense of excitement as he lifted the blade to sheath it over his shoulder. His mind spun with chaotic anticipation as he ran up the steps to enter the inn.

--------------------

*Image credit: Bethesda Softworks/Zenimax Online (The Elder Scrolls: Online)

Chapter Text

     "Come on in!" an older Nord called to Cicero from behind the bar, "The Silver-Blood Inn has plenty of strong drink and clean rooms! If I can't get you anything, I'm sure my wife will bellow at me until I can!"

     Cicero took a moment to scan the room. Despite the music and lively banter coming from a small group of patrons toward the back, the tavern side of the Silver-Blood Inn felt rather empty. The welcoming bartender stared eerily at him while almost anxiously wiping down the already spotless counters.

     Mother waved to Cicero from the bar. She appeared to have already ordered a drink. He casually made his way in and sat beside her. Before he could speak, the bartender slid a tankard of mead to him.

     "First one's free," he smiled, "Just be sure to come back and come often!"

     "Much gratitude," Cicero lifted the drink and nodded thanks before sipping.

     "The name's Kleppr," the eccentric Nord continued, "We don't get much business anymore with the Forsworn rampaging through the streets."

     "Stupid Forworn," Cicero muttered.

     "Kleppr! You idiot!" a woman shouted from across the room, "Can't you do anything right?"

     The bartender flinched, "My dear loving wife, Frabbi..." he said under his breath before turning around to face her, "What did I do this time? I was just standing here."

     The married couple began to shout at one another rendering the bard's music useless for ambiance. The peaceful atmosphere of the tavern suddenly felt quite hostile. 

     "Interesting blade," Mother said in an oddly knowing tone.

     "Ebony," Cicero smirked.

     "I know. I've seen it before."

     Cicero began to ask but was interrupted by the sound of shattering glass. Apparently, Frabbi had an issue with how her husband cleaned plates.

     "I'm sorry..." the voice of a young woman spoke up from nearby. Cicero glanced over to see the merchant from the marketplace. "My parents are always fighting."

     "Oh...! Kleppr is your father?" he asked leaning away from her as he could finally see in the light that she was much younger than he had previously assumed.

     "Yeah... Please don't let their arguing scare you off. We need the service, like... bad."

     Mother bit her lips together trying not to show her amusement. The entire place was like a dramatic play, acting out around them. So entertaining. She sipped her noticeably watered-down mead and tried to savor the moment.

     "My name's Hroki," the girl said sitting down beside Cicero, "My parents have me work in the marketplace for some extra coin on weekends. It's very boring. I'd rather be shopping myself." She shifted around in her seat rubbing the side of her neck as if she were trying to draw attention to the cleavage exposed by her low-cut blouse.

     Cicero found himself naturally looking but quickly glanced away. The girl must have been about sixteen. Her father would surely frown upon even looking at her. 

     "Um- oh, well then..." Cicero cleared his throat, "I'm sorry I was unable to make a purchase. Finances and timing and all..."

     "Oh, that's alright," the teenager leaned closer to him, "You're an Imperial, aren't you?"

     "Yep," he lifted his drink to his lips and turned his head to watch the husband and wife still quarreling across the bar. A young man had seemingly joined the fight by desperately trying to clean up the thrown objects.

     Cicero felt a hand land on his thigh. Startled, he turned his attention back to the young woman.

     "Imperials are very wealthy," she continued as if the commotion around them was typical enough to ignore. Cicero glanced down at her hand inching up his leg as she leaned in close to his ear and whispered, "My mother told me that men from Cyrodiil have big dicks."

     "UUUUHHHH-" Cicero stiffed up and placed his tankard on the bar, his hand gripping the handle tightly. He continued to stare at the arguing couple as he felt her warm breath on his earlobe. He knew he should stop this. The whole thing was ridiculous. He wasn't even interested in her. Despite how she looked, she was way too young, and her parents-

     "Hroki!" the young man who was trying to quell the fight called and came running over, "Please! Don't 'handle' the patrons!"

     "Screw off, Hreinn. He likes it," she huffed back.

     Cicero exhaled dramatically and glanced at Mother again, pleading at her with his eyes. She was covering her mouth with her hand, clearly trying to hold back laughter as she avoided eye contact.

     "I don't think it's the Forsworn that's killing their business," Cicero mumbled, "Mother dearest, would you like to switch seats with me?" he asked her with half a smirk.

     "Oh that's quite alright, my child," she spoke softly as the brother and sister began to argue, "I find that it's a bit quieter over here. Besides, I wouldn't want to ruin your date."

     Cicero held his hand over his ear to block the noise, "I can assure you, she is not my type. I prefer my women much older. Aged like fine wine... several hundred years my senior," he sarcastically winked at her.

     Mother finally burst into laughter. Cicero smiled. It felt so good to see her enjoying herself. He was seeing her as a person now instead of just a force he was sworn to serve. She had a personality. A sense of humor. Cicero began to see Zukira and Mother's essences flowing together into an indistinguishable aura. It was beautiful.

     "You are such a cockblocker!" Hroki shouted at her brother breaking Cicero's thought process. 

     Cicero held his finger up, "Check please!" No one heard, of course. 

     Finally, the wife huffed off to one of the rooms to cool down and the husband returned to the bar. "My lovely wife, ladies and gentlemen!" he cheered half out of breath.

     The bard and the few other patrons cheered and clapped along as if it was all a performance.

     "This is a common thing?" Cicero inquired to the son who returned to the bar after forcefully removing his younger sister from the potentially scandalous situation.

     "Sorry about all this," Hreinn sighed, "My parents fight a lot... and my sister has been kind of a harlot since father stopped giving her allowance."

     "I'm sorry to hear that," Cicero mumbled as he placed a couple of septims on the bar, glancing up at Kleppr, "Another round for Mother and I."

     "Mother?" he looked back and forth between them appearing visibly perplexed. It was unclear what he was thinking.

     "We're looking for an Orsimer that goes by the name, 'Rage'," Mother spoke up, trying to change the focus, "She's a follower of the Cult of Namira and is known to reside in Markarth."

     Kleppr began to fill Cicero's tankard again. The silence lingered. Once the cup was full, he placed it on the bar before them and forced a smile, "On the house," he said in a shaky tone.

     "Something wrong?" Mother probed.

     "Perhaps the men at the silver mine can help you," he replied awkwardly and turned to continue wiping down the already clean bar.

     "I'm going out for a piss break," Hreiin waved to his father, "I'll be back to finish my chores in five."

     "Watch for them Foresworn," Kleppr called back to him, "Stay close to the building!"

     Cicero watched the exchange while sipping his fresh drink. The sheathed sword on his back began to radiate a warm sensation. He smacked his lips and stood, retrieving his coins from the counter.

     "Where are you going?" Mother asked, "We have time."

     "I'm going to join Mr. Hreiin on his 'break," he mumbled and headed toward the door. Mother frowned suspiciously and cut her eyes back to the boy's father.

~

     Cicero made his way down the steps scanning over the empty street. The guards at the gate were playing a game of 'rock-parchment-dagger' and were clearly bored out of their minds. Hreiin headed over to the shadows along the side of the inn seeking privacy as he relieved himself.

     "That sister of yours," Cicero spoke in a deep tone as he stepped around the corner to join him.

     Hreinn jumped in surprise, attempting to turn away, "Sir?"

     Cicero whistled, "She's trouble." He moved up beside the weary young man at a comfortable distance and joined him in peeing on the wall.

     "Eh-heh..." Hreiin laughed nervously, looking away, "She does like the attention..."

     Cicero fumbled to draw the Ebony Blade with one hand while attempting to tuck himself back in with the other. He wasn't used to wielding a two-handed weapon and began to panic when he realized his poor planning... if he even had a plan, to begin with. The alcohol didn't help.

     "What are you doing?" Hreiin asked looking directly at him.

     "I-" Cicero released the blade and quickly tucked himself properly before using both hands to redraw the sword. He held it out toward him, "Ch-..." 

     Well, that didn't go as planned. Cicero was having a hard time thinking straight. Between downing a tankard on an empty stomach and the irresistible warmth of the blade beckoning him to use it, he felt completely off his game.

     "I'm just- Hold still, I'm new at this," Cicero grunted and swiftly plunged the sword through the young man's stomach like a hot knife through butter. Hreiin gaped down at the blade in surprise as he had yet to register what had happened. A long moment of silence passed before the blood began to trickle down his legs. 

     Cicero's eyes widened as he questioned what he was even doing. The warmth of the blade began to radiate as he felt the life force of his victim pulling through the blade and crawling up into his arm. The heat in his veins gradually intensified. Hreiin lifted his head to look back at his killer- with a smile on his face. The young man's eyes glazed over and he began to make a sort of guttural chuckle deep in his throat. Cicero almost forgot to breathe as he watched the eerie and unnatural occurrence. Memories flooded back of the jester... that damn jester laughing as he bleed out...

     As the blood began to pool around their feet, Cicero slowly took a step back removing the long narrow blade. Hreiin continued to smile, though his laughter had turned to a gurgle as he began to sway like a zombie. It was as if the guy was possessed. Was this the blade's doing? Cicero awkwardly found himself smiling back. They both grinned widely at one another for a long surreal moment before Hreiin finally crumpled to the ground in a heap. The gurgling laughter ceased and everything fell silent.

     Cicero lifted the blade to examine it, watching as the soft red glow of its cursed enchantment flowed across the metal and into his body like warm waves of liquid light. It felt so good...

     "Oh... Ohhh, Cicero likes this..."

~

     Stepping back into the inn, Cicero overheard Frabbi shouting for her son to finish his chores. The rush of the kill and the becking enchantment were causing him to shiver as he struggled to keep his composure. He staggered toward the bar in a visible daze that bordered on ecstasy. The Ebony Blade, dripping with the fresh blood of his victim, dangled in his hand.

     Mother quickly stood upon seeing this. She knew that things were about to get worse.

     "Are you alright, sir?" Kleppr asked, quickly stepping around the bar to see.

     "He's covered in blood!" his wife gasped, "Were you attacked!?"

     Cicero found himself unable to reply as his smile forcefully returned.

     "Hreiin is outside!" Kleppr huffed and bolted out the front door to find his son. Frabbi continued to stare at Cicero in horror with a glint of suspicion in her eyes.

     "We should go-" Mother mumbled as she began making her way toward him.

     Cicero suddenly cackled at the top of his lungs and lunged at the innkeeper's wife, driving the blade deep into her chest. She cried out in surprise before bursting into a choking bout of maniacal laughter. The few other patrons instantly drew their weapons. The Night Mother backed toward the door in an attempt to secure their exit. She conjured a flame in her palm as she watched the men approach.

     Cicero twisted the blade and gasped in ecstasy as the surge of warm life energy pulled from Frabbi into his body. He panted and ripped the weapon from her before turning to face the others. They paused in their tracks upon seeing Cicero's crazed eyes almost rolled back in his head. He flipped the blade around in his hand, breathing erratically in a poised stance of attack.

     "Come on," he provoked the patrons between breaths as his fingers flexed on the hilt, "Do it..."

     The bard, holding a mere iron dagger, glanced at the two larger Nords beside him. They were intimidating and way bigger than this little shithead Imperial... but they looked just as frightened as he.

     "MOM!?"

     Everyone turned to see Hroki, the daughter, running across the room toward her mother's body. Cicero didn't hesitate. He raked his bottom teeth over his top lip as he took a wide step over and grabbed her by the hair, yanking her toward him and onto the length of the blade. She jolted for a moment before her blank gaze locked with his. She gradually smiled and began to hum a shaky yet gleeful tune as she twitched. Cicero took a deep breath as he absorbed her essence, fulfilling the bloodlust of the weapon.

     "That's enough, my dear!" The Night Mother exclaimed and pulled his victim off the blade allowing her to drop to the floor. The bard began to vomit and ran for one of the guest rooms. The remaining patrons held their disturbed stares not knowing what to do. 

     Mother took Cicero's arm and pulled him along with haste, "The guards will be here soon," she said pushing the door open.

     Standing on the landing before them was Kleppr who had evidently found his son's body. He stared at Cicero covered in even more blood... then noticed his wife and daughter slain in a pile beside the bar. Mother could see the guards running to the alley beside the inn. Cicero could barely stand on his own, his eyes drifting, high on the rush.

     "You..." Kleppr said taking a step back, "It was you... Wh-"

     Mother pulled Cicero down the steps past the dazed innkeeper,  dragging him into the shadows and down into the closest waterway to hide.

     "My family... My dear wife..." Kleppr continued to stammer as the guards finally reached him. He knelt on the steps and wiped his brow, exhaling slowly and looking up into the night sky with an odd sense of solace on his face, "It's so quiet..."

Chapter Text

     Dawn was breaking before the heat from the search for the suspects in the triple murder at the inn had slowed. Mother shivered as she continued to hold Cicero's dazed and semi-conscious body up in the waterway below a bridge. He mumbled off and on as his head nodded; his eyes glazed over as he stared into space. The insane amount of energy he had absorbed from the rapid series of kills was ravaging his mind.

     Once Mother deemed it safe to leave the water, she began tapping Cicero on the cheek. "Wake up, child. We have a job to do now," she said in a low tone.

     He wasn't snapping out of it. She was becoming concerned. Mother knew the power of the Ebony Blade. She knew how it had gotten into his hand without even having to ask. Though it would be foolish of her to meddle in Daedric affairs, she didn't like how close to home this situation was and worried how it may affect the Uprising. Cicero was also a good man. He always took exceptional care of her and protected her with his life unconditionally... but it was still simply out of her jurisdiction to intervene.

     Mother pulled his head down onto her shoulder and rested her cheek on his forehead. He was very warm still. At least she didn't have to worry about him getting hypothermia. Being a Dunmer, both in her past body and current, the cold was brutal. Thankfully the sun was coming up. They needed to move but Cicero was far too heavy to carry.

     "Please, my loyal Keeper," she whispered to him, wiping his wet stringy hair from his pale face, "Come back to me... I can't leave you here."

     His warm skin against her cheek felt comforting. Mother began to feel the deep memories of her vessel reemerging. Zukira's soul may have been sent to Sithis, but her essence remained, though suppressed. The Night Mother closed her eyes and flipped through the residual memories like a textbook in her mind. They were foggy and scattered, but they brought a feeling of peace to her. This vessel truly loved Cicero... and the fact that he followed orders to kill her-

      ...Mother bit her lips together and opened her eyes. She took Cicero's face into her hands to look him in the eye. "I order you to get yourself together," she said in a stern voice, "do you understand me?"

     Cicero's dim gaze lifted to meet hers. His breathing became deeper and he slowly corrected his stature to stand on his own.

     "Y.... yes, Mother... Cicero is... Cicero is at your service..." he mumbled.

     Mother released him and waded back to allow him to get his bearings. The clanking of the mineworkers began around the corner. The Innkeeper had mentioned that they should inquire there about their target. They'd have to be discreet now with the guards on high alert. 

     "I'm so sorry," Cicero rubbed his hand over his face as his brain was finally clearing up, "Crazy dreams... This sword," he lifted his other hand to touch the hilt of the blade over his shoulder, "... such madness it invokes within Cicero... such familiar thoughts..."

     "I know, hon," Mother replied leaning out from under the bridge to scope the surroundings, "That blade is cursed."

     "...it felt so good..."

     "I understand, Keeper, but I need you to refrain from using it," Mother glanced back at him.

     "I've never felt more alive!" he cheered finally looking fully awake.

     Mother motioned to him to keep his voice down. "Think of it as a dangerous drug. I don't want you to overdose on its power. I need you."

     "Yes, my Matron," Cicero's voice returned to his typical cheerful pitch, "As you wish. Cicero will refrain from using this... wonderful... warm... evocative-"

     "Keeper."

     "Yes, Mother."

     Once the only guard in sight rounded the corner above them, Mother directed Cicero to follow her up the aqueduct and toward the entrance to the mine and discreetly climbed out.  A couple of workers were setting up their smithing stations for the day trying not to pay mind to the two soaked travelers dressed as Dark Brotherhood assassins approaching them...

     "Excuse me, gentlemen," Mother called to them, "I have a quick question, if you'd be so kind..."

     The workers seemed to ignore her. She moved closer.

     "We are looking for a female Orsimer who goes by the name 'Rage' and has been known to frequent these parts-"

     "Look, lady," one of the workers, an Orc, grunted as he unloaded silver ore from a cart onto a pallet, "I don't get paid enough to chit-chat with random suspicious travelers who crawl out of the canal sopping wet and start poking around about locals."

     "That's a shame," Mother continued, "I'm sure there must be something I could say to win your ear-"

     Suddenly, Cicero lurched forward unsheathing his sword. He leaped behind the orc and flipped the long narrow blade around the front of the Orc's throat pulling him back into a hostage position.

     "The lady was being nice," he screeched into the worker's ear, "You will answer her with respect! Do I make myself clear!?"

     "CICERO!" Mother snapped, "What did I just say!?"

     The other workers stopped what they were doing to look. None of them moved which caused an eerie silence.

     "The Left-Hand Mine," the Orc trembled, "Outside the gates... there's a little village," he swallowed against the edge of the blade and flinched, "She lives there..."

     Cicero panted as he pulled the blade tighter against the worker's throat. It sliced the Orc's skin ever so slightly drawing a bit of blood. But there was nothing. No heat. No rush. The handle of the blade felt cool.

     Mother stepped over and grabbed Cicero's arm pulling him off of the worker. He stumbled back and looked at the blade in his hand confused. The urge was there... but the physical rush was gone. Even the red glow of the enchantment appeared dim.

     "Thank you, sir," Mother bowed slightly to the startled Orc.

     Cicero flipped the blade over and examined it as Mother pulled him by his along by the arm, not unlike a mother dragging her hyper child through a crowded marketplace.

     "Cicero doesn't understand, Mother..." he mumbled, lost in thought, "Is it no longer enchanted?"

     Mother was too busy trying to navigate them around corners and pillars to stay out of sight of the guards in an attempt to leave the city without any more problems.

     "Put it away," she instructed flatly, "That's an order. You're going to get us caught."

     Cicero did as he was told and sheathed the blade. His fingertips tingled. He longed for that rush again.

     When they reached the front gate, Mother quickly threw together a plan to distract the guards. Kneeling in the shadows by one of the closed market stalls, she pulled Cicero down to her level and looked him in the eye.

     "I need you to do something for me," she whispered.

     "Anything and everything," Cicero replied with an eager grin on his face.

     "I need your blood."

     Without question or hesitation, he removed the glove from his left hand and grabbed his dagger with his right. In one swift gesture, he drew the edge of the blade across his palm. His unconditional devotion was endearing, but it was still surprising how far he would- and has gone to please her.

     "Will this suffice?" he asked without even a flinch.

     "Exceptional, my dear," Mother replied and took his wrist. She lifted his hand to her face and smeared it down covering her cheeks and neck with blood. Cicero watched, finding himself getting a bit excited by this. Of course, he was too much of a gentleman to say anything. Especially to the Night Mother.

     "Follow my lead," she commanded, "and DON'T touch that sword..."

     "Yes, sweet Mother," Cicero beamed at her.

     Mother stared at his smiling face for a moment. His missing tooth made her heart sink. He was so damaged that it was beginning to show physically. But, now was not the time to feel bad about someone else's sacrifices. Mother knew that the aura of Zukira was coming through. She needed to keep that sort of thing in check and not let it interfere with the Dread Lord's plans. Cicero was a tool of the Brotherhood. He was a soldier of Sithis. 

     Mother forced her focus back to the task at hand. She stood and gestured to Cicero to wait before turning to run toward the guards stationed at the front gates.

     "I'VE BEEN ATTACKED!!" she shrieked in a tone Cicero'd never heard before.

     The two gate guards were so startled that they unsheathed their swords.

     "Who!?" one of them asked, "Who did this!?"

     "A forsworn!" Mother cried and pointed back into the city in a random direction, "They've breached the walls!"

     The first guard didn't hesitate to begin sprinting off in the direction she pointed. The second guard seemed a bit more skeptical.

     "Where were you wounded, ma'am?" he began looking her over.

     "It's a slaughter!" Cicero shouted as he dashed over to join them. He had also smeared blood across his face and chest, "Dozens of them! A-at the Temple of Dibella! Forsworn are invading!"

     "Dozens!?" the guard gasped and looked up at the top of the tower in the middle of the city.
Mother took the opportunity to slip past and exit through the gates. Cicero held his sliced palm out for the guard to see.

     "I tried to stop them," he panted, "but there were just too many! Those poor priestesses! They didn't stand a chance!"

     "By the Nine!" the guard gasped and finally took off toward the temple.

     Cicero chuckled and proudly sauntered through the gates to join Mother on the other side.

Chapter Text

    "Excellent plan, Mother," Cicero cheered as he skipped to catch up with her, "Smear some blood, fake a scene, distract the guards, our record's clean! Hehehehe!"

     Mother wiped the blood from her face with her sleeve as she followed the path away from the city. Off to the far left of the gates, there was a small village made up of a few little Dwarven structures repurposed into budget housing. It was likely that the miners stayed in these dwellings while on the job, but noticing the small children and impoverished-looking mothers tending to chores, it was obvious that the less fortunate had taken up residence as well; possibly to be close to the city for safety.

     "Should we ask around again?" Cicero asked mid-caper, also noting the families going about their work.

     Mother shook her head knowing exactly where they needed to go. She grabbed a rag from a clothesline as they passed through a yard and handed it to Cicero. "Wipe the blood, dear. We don't need any more attention."

     He graciously accepted the rag and began wiping himself down as they walked. He then wrapped the cloth around his wounded hand to quell the bleeding, and carefully replaced his glove.

     The families working outside the mines watched them pass through with a weary gaze but did not try to interfere. The path through the small village came to a dead end at the entrance to a mine. Judging by the sounds terminating from within, it was currently active.

     "Be on guard," Mother said looking over at Cicero, "Our target may be trouble."

     "Cicero has been meaning to ask Mother-... how did Sithis come up with this list?" he inquired timidly.

     "The vessels selected for my children were chosen based on merit and status," she explained as she made her way into the mine, "The souls will be exchanged, but the memories and skill will remain."

     "Oooh!" Cicero gasped, "So, like moving into someone's house after killing them and just taking their identity?"

     "Ah-ha... I suppose that's what it feels like. Though, their vessels will not be killed as mine was. They need complete identities whereas I already have my own. We should refrain from speaking now... We are near," Mother's voice lowered. She wanted to avoid the grizzly details of the topic of sacrifice to keep Cicero from lamenting about Zukira. An emotional distraction could derail their mission and after the chaotic scene at the tavern the night before, they were lucky to still be on track at all.

     As they moved quietly through the mine, they could hear the clanking of pickaxes all around them. The miners all seemed destitute and depressed. They didn't even look up from their work as the two oddly dressed strangers passed.

     Mother paused at a fork and lifted her nose and gestured for Cicero to wait.

     "Smell that?" she asked quietly.

     Cicero shook his head and pointed to his damaged nose, "I haven't smelled anything in weeks. A big Nord punched me-"

     "Meat," she wrinkled her nose, "Freshly butchered."

     Mother followed the darker path of the fork but became more cautious the further they got from the noise of the mining. The ground was noticeably damp with a dark substance and the foul smell grew the deeper they ventured. She retrieved a torch from the wall and lowered it to see what they were walking in. 

     Blood.

     Cicero's seemingly perpetual grin faded upon seeing this. He needed to protect Mother at all costs. He would not fail her again. In reaction, he reached for his sword but paused before unsheathing his dagger instead.

     "We need her unharmed," Mother whispered when she saw him draw his weapon.

     "I understand. But I also will not allow harm befall you, my Matron," he said in a serious tone, "Cicero is your Keeper and I am sworn to-"

     Suddenly, something very powerful slammed into him from behind sending him hurling to the ground. His dagger dropped from his hand on impact. A flash of fire heated the air around him and he was blinded for a moment.

     "MOTHER!?" Cicero cried out as the immense weight was lifted from him. He quickly fumbled to retrieve his dagger and glanced up to see Mother standing over him with flames conjured in both palms focused on what had attacked him. Cicero quickly got to his feet and turned to see as well.

     "One more step and I'll melt the hair from your head," Mother threatened the assailant.

     Illuminated by the flickering light of Mother's flames, a stocky female orc was hunched near the wall. She was panting and holding her chest looking almost as alarmed as they felt. "Who are you?" she demanded and lifted her head, squinting her yellowish-green eyes at them, "I don't have any orders today..."

     "We're here to inquire of your... wares," Mother said sounding slightly unsure.

     The orc slowly regained her stature and smirked, "Well, why didn't you just say so?" she glanced at Cicero, "And who's this tasty lookin' old chap?"

     "...Old?" Cicero muttered under his breath.

     "He's mine," Mother replied flatly, "Your business is with me. He's just a bodyguard."

     While he knew she was acting a part, Cicero's ego felt a bit betrayed hearing Mother refer to him as 'just a bodyguard'. He was sort of a glorified bodyguard at that point, but he just didn't want to hear it. Not from the Night Mother. Keeper had a much more respectable and responsible ring to it. Less brutish...

     "The name's Rage," the orc said, still eyeing Cicero as she ambled past, "Where'd you hear of my little enterprise?"

     "Local gossip," Mother lowered her hands to extinguish her mage fire.

     "Is that so...?" Rage paused to look Mother over, "I don't like knowing that my business has gotten on the tongues of commoners." She popped her lips and turned to continue up the dark corridor.

     Mother motioned to Cicero to relax and turned to follow the orc deeper into the mine. After taking a moment to gather his nerves, he began feverishly wiping the rancid floor-blood from his face before moving quickly to catch up. 

     The torches on the walls were becoming further and further apart leaving the three in long stretches of shadow between. Cicero walked with his dagger in hand and Mother only a few feet ahead of him. He did not want to let her out of his sight yet the increasing darkness was making that difficult.

     "I haven't had Imperial blood down here in quite some time," Rage said, glancing back at him and inhaling deeply as if... smelling.

     "As I said," Mother interjected, "he's off limits."

     Rage clicked her tongue, undaunted by Mother's threatening tone, "So, you hear any news about this war thing with the Stormcloaks and Legion?" Her attempt at small talk was left hanging as neither Mother nor Cicero felt the urge to gossip politics.

     A moment later, they reached the dead end at a wooden door set into the cavern wall. The stench of both fresh blood and old decay was quite overwhelming. Rage paused to pull a key from her robust cleavage and promptly unlocked it. Inside, several rusty oil lanterns illuminated the horrors that were 'Rage's Meat Market'. Cicero instantly felt nauseous.

     The walls were lined with carcasses on hooks at various stages of dismemberment. Human and elf alike. Tables throughout the room were covered with stacks of unidentifiable salted meat. Several of them were tied up in neat little bundles with twine. The buzzing of the flies was almost maddening.

     "So what's your taste?" Rage asked as she sat down on a crate in the corner, "Got mostly Breton and Nord at the moment... this being Western Skyrim 'n all. But I do have some fresh Khajiit from a passing caravan two nights past. I don't deal in Orsimer for obvious reasons, but if you want dark meat, aka Dunmer, I'll need a three-day window. Gotta ship that in from Eastmarch for the best results," she smiled at Cicero, "We are fresh out of Imperial, as well. Seems the troops have pulled out of The Reach. Shame. Y'all got some good rich flavor. No pun intended."

     Cicero cringed as she flicked her tongue at him.

     Mother stepped between them and crossed her arms, looking down at her, "I take it you supply the followers of Namira with meat?" she asked.

     "Nah," Rage sighed and leaned back against the wall, "They like the kill. I sell to the 'closet'-cannibals. The ones who don't necessarily want to get their hands dirty with a kill. Those who don't want their families to know. Sissies. But they pay out the nose for the discretion, so it's good honest business on my end."

     Rage tilted her head trying to examine Cicero again. He immediately noticed yet was unable to move as he knew he needed to remain close to Mother for her protection. What in Oblivion was wrong with this orc? Was she flirting with him? Or did she actually want to eat him? Cicero shuttered.

     Mother pretended to browse the selection on the wall while she subtly reached her hand into her cloak to retrieve the vial of poison. She was quickly devising a plan in her head but needed to keep the target distracted long enough to initiate it.

     "I see you have the ring of Namira," Mother attempted small talk.

     "Ho, yeah. Namira's my Prince. I was raised in a tribe that worships Malakath, but in my early teens... the hunger set in. Long story short, I found my calling."

     "My bodyguard has recently acquired a Daedric artifact of his own," Mother said hiding the poison vial in her palm at her side, "Cicero, why don't you show her your blade?"

     Cicero's eyes widened. Was Mother trying to tell him something? She specifically told him not to use the blade... but she also told him that they were not to harm the target. The mixed signals were making his head hurt as he struggled to figure out what she was asking him to do.

     Rage stood up and adjusted her large bosom and rolled her shoulders looking as if she were preparing for... something. She cracked her neck and began moving toward Cicero.

     "Oooh, yes. Let momma see that wicked blade of yours," Rage said in a deep seductive tone. She licked her lips and appeared to be staring at Cicero's neck which was his only exposed skin.

     He hesitated, wanting to look to Mother for direction or a clue but was afraid to take his eyes off of the sexually-charged, deranged cannibal.

     "I... Yu-" he stammered trying to get his racing thoughts together. If it wasn't for the mission- if it wasn't for Mother's orders, he would have slain this nasty beast the moment he laid eyes on her. Though not very large by orc standards, she was just as threatening as a damn frost troll.

     "What's wrong, sweetie?" Rage asked in a low tone as she leaned in, "Orc got your tongue?"

     Cicero could feel her breath... and it was foul. That was enough! He reached for the closest solid object, which so happened to be a solid silver ingot, and swung it across the side of her head before she could try anything. The crack of her skull echoed off the walls. Mother turned just in time to see the target crumple to the ground. Panting erratically, Cicero looked up at her; his face was pale and sweat dripped down his forehead.

     "Well..." Mother sighed.

     "Sh-... she wanted to eat me, Mother..." Cicero uttered in a tiny shaky tone.

     Mother shook her head disapprovingly and stepped over to kneel beside the orc's body. She was still breathing but would most definitely wake up with a terrible headache. Though sloppy and not the plan Mother had envisioned, Cicero's knee-jerk reaction worked just as well. Mother carefully pulled down on Rage's lip and administered the poison to ensure she'd remain asleep for the return trip.

     "I guess that was easy," Cicero ran his hands down his chest as he composed himself.

    "Hm. Perhaps," Mother replied as she stood and dusted off her knees, "But now we have to carry her out."

     "Eh..."

>>> New character added to the Character Guide Book: Rage

Chapter Text

     It had been a long while since Jade had spent any time in Whiterun. She would visit occasionally to barter goods and fence some items, but she tried to limit her stay now that she was part of the Dark Brotherhood. After multiple run-ins with the law, she thought it best to avoid being noticed at all. Unfortunately, she couldn't exactly explain that to the Night Mother and expect to get out of her assignment. The fact that Jade owned property within the city probably made it seem like she would be more suited for the job... hopefully, she wouldn't be noticed.

     The target she was assigned to was known to lodge in Whiterun that time of year. Besides a residence, a transient's only option for lodging would be the Bannered Mare in the Plains District. Though, as it was mid-afternoon, the inn/tavern was near empty. Jade didn't want to draw too much attention to herself by asking around openly so she decided that the next best option would be to simply keep her eyes peeled for an Argonian dressed as a sell-sword. Whiterun was a Nord city after all; any member of a beast race would stick out like a sore thumb.

     Jade made her way up to the Winds District following the comforting scent of a hot burning forge. Comforting to a girl who had a blacksmith for a father. He bent steal for the Thieves Guild while working as a fence for stolen weapons. Jade had spent much of her early childhood watching him craft and deal his shady business in Riften. It was one of the reasons she had picked up the hobby of collecting rare and unique weapons; weapons which she merely stow in her house, viewing them as treasure over protection.

     Jade's eyes shifted up to the enormous upturned longboat that was re-purposed as a mead hall and home of the Companions. Jorrvaskr. She had visited the hall many times over the years to partake in parties and training. The Companions had grown fond of her drunken loud entertainment and eventually accepted her as a fellow warrior after she assisted them with some personal matters.

     The clanking of the metal from the Skyforge high above the mead hall suddenly reminded Jade of something Cicero always chattered about whenever they'd stop in Whiterun. He would go on and on about wanting to get his hands on some Skyforge steel for a dagger. She would always ignore him and sometimes even avoid the area around the forge just to spite him. Sure, they hadn't been seeing eye-to-eye lately... Well, maybe they'd never seen eye-to-eye, but Jade was starting to feel as if she should at least make an effort at this point considering the... circumstances. 

     Being someone who stockpiled weapons and secretly enjoyed hoarding shiny trinkets, she had become quite aware that Cicero owned next to nothing. He came to Skyrim with merely a dagger, the lint in his pockets, and a couple of septims. Septims which he rewarded her with for assisting him when the wheel broke on his wagon while transporting the Night Mother from Dawnstar to Falkreath. It was the first time they'd met and frankly, Jade wanted nothing to do with him even then. If it wasn't for that stubborn farmer being such a negative jerk about helping the stranded fool, she'd have left Cicero high and dry herself. But the frustrated little jester was the lesser of two evils at that moment, and Jade never turned down an opportunity to make someone eat their own shit, so to speak.

     As she made her way up the wide staircase toward the entrance of Jorrvaskr, the sounds of men cheering could be heard within. The Companions were probably having another brawl. The barbaric nature of her people brought her such pride. She so wanted to join in but decided to use her better judgment and focus on keeping a low profile. On her way up to the forge, Jade decided to inquire about getting a dagger made for Cicero. Luckily, she knew the Skyforge blacksmith well and had long since earned his respect. 

     Eorlund Gray-Mane, a formidable-looking older Nord, stood over the forge. His brow was covered in soot and sweat and he appeared to be working on a large sword with unique markings on it.

     "Eorlund, dear friend," Jade called over the roar of the fire, "It's been a while!"

     The blacksmith lifted his gaze to her, squinting to allow his eyes to adjust after staring at the bright embers. It took a long moment for him to recognize her.

     "Ah!" he finally exclaimed and put his tools down, wiping his hands on his apron, "If it isn't the lovely Dragonborn, herself! All of Skyrim- nay- all of Tamriel owes you praise, my lady!"

     Jade blushed a little feeling like she was being honored by her own father. Eorlund lumbered over and wrapped his big muscular arms around her. He'd never shown any kind of affection toward her before. His gruff exterior had melted away at that moment to show his gratitude.

     "They sing of your journey to Sovngarde to defeat the World-Eater in all of the taverns! The children play as you in the streets with wooden swords and shouts of joy!" he cheered.

     Jade was speechless. Mostly because she couldn't breathe in his bear-hug of an embrace. Eorlund released her and quickly composed himself.

     "Alduin was just a big guar with wings and a bad attitude," Jade chuckled.

     "Now, if I could only convince you to do something about those dung-sniffing Battle-Borns..." his tone of voice had returned to being gruff.

     "Listen, I was wondering if you could-"

     "Smith you something from Skyforge steel?"

     "...Yeah, actually."

     "It's the least I can do," Eorlund stepped back over to the forge and began rearranging his tools, "What are you interested in? Jewelry perhaps?"

     Jade hesitated. That sounded nice. She'd never owned anything made of Skyforge steel before. She wasn't one to typically wear jewelry, but the idea of a nice shiny necklace in commemoration of saving the world sounded delightful. Eorlund watched her mull it over. As much as she wanted to be selfish and reward herself with more treasure... Jade knew that a dagger for Cicero would mean more to him than a silly shiny trinket would mean to her. Heck, a necklace would probably get shoved in a trunk with the rest of her random loot anyway.

     "Actually, I'd like a dagger."

     "A puny dagger?" a thick Nordic voice arose from behind her. Jade turned to see a filthy young man climbing the steps to join them. It was Vilkas, a veteran member of the Companions she had met long before. He was part of what they called, 'the Circle'; A secret clan within the Companions joined together by the blood of the werewolf. Jade was once invited to join the Circle but opted out. Something about waking up naked, confused, and covered in blood in a field after a transformation didn't appeal to her. Been there, done that.

     "I think she meant a great sword. Daggers are for milk-drinkers and little old ladies," Vilkas laughed. He was clearly a connoisseur of large blades.

     "It's not for me. It's for-" It was at that moment that Jade realized that she didn't know what Cicero was to her anymore. He wasn't really her servant since he'd started retaliating against her. He didn't feel like her friend with how much they fought. He sure as Oblivion wasn't her lover even after what happened in Riften... what could she refer to him as? Her baby-daddy? ARGH! No.

     "For your nana?" Vilkas answered for her.

     "...my friend, I guess," she finally said, "He prefers daggers."

     "Sounds like your 'friend' needs to man-up. How can a man protect his woman with a tiny knife?"

     Jade smiled a little. Cicero had saved her ass many more times than she'd like to admit with his 'tiny knife'.... but she did love watching men wielding those huge blades; their biceps taut and glistening with sweat with every slash and heaving thrust. Her eyes drifted over Vilkas's brawny body poured perfectly into his heavy custom armor.

     "I can take care of myself, kiddo," Jade bit her lip.

     "Ah, see? I do like a woman who can bust a few chops."

     "Take it to the inn," Eorlund grunted, "I don't need to hear this young hormonal banter. I'll have your blade ready in a few days, my dear."

     Jade bowed graciously to the blacksmith, feeling flattered to be called 'young'. She turned and descended the steps with Vilkas.

     "So," Vilkas cleared his throat, "Is this friend of yours... more than a friend?"

     "Gods, no," Jade laughed, "I just figured that if he were to accompany me on any expeditions that I'd want him to be well armed."

     "Can I fight him?"

     Jade paused at the bottom of the steps and glanced at him. The offer was super tempting. If she were to pit Cicero against Vilkas... who would win? Sure, Cicero had experience and agility on his side... but Vilkas had more youth and pure strength in his corner. Not to mention that he was a werewolf. Though, he had sworn against transforming. 

     Jade shook her head. She needed to stop thinking of Cicero as a pawn to play with. He had shown a lot of potential and clear devotion to her recently. He deserved a little more respect than to just quite literally throw him to the dogs.

     "Nah," she replied, "He's just some little faithless Imperial. Not worth bloodying your blade for."

     "She's hanging around with Imperials?" a gravelly voice called from the Jorrvaskr entrance. Farkas, Vilkas's twin brother was leaning on the door frame with his arms crossed. He had a fresh cut on his chin most likely from a friendly brawl with another Companion. They enjoyed roughhousing not unlike puppies.

     "That's what I'm saying," Vilkas replied to his brother, "She needs to scrap the fancy boy and hire a real sword-"

     "That reminds me," Jade interrupted as they reached Farkas, "I'm looking for a sell-sword."

     "Look no further, Madam Dragonborn," Farkas pushed himself off of the wall and swaggered over; a bit wobbly likely due to a recent blow to the head.

     "Now, hold it," Vilkas stepped between his brother and Jade, "I believe she was talking to me first."

     "She's looking for muscle," Farkas grunted, "Not stupid brains."

     "Do you know how dumb you sound right now?" Vilkas crossed his arms.

     "Not as dumb as you look."

     "You know damn well that I'm the sexy one."

     "Then why do women faun over me more?" Farkas squinted.

     "Because you're like a dumb puppy and they want to fix you!"

     "Why would they want to remove my testicles...?"

     Jade started getting uncomfortable as the twins' voices rose. She glanced around hoping that they were not drawing attention from any of the guards.

     "Boys, boys," she stepped in between them, placing a hand on both of their chests, "I could definitely use help from BOTH of you dashing gentlemen. I'm looking for an Argonian named Meegs. It's probably short for something," she explained, "I need to gently 'convince' him to accompany me back to Dawnstar."

     "A lizard?" Farkas finally released his glare toward his brother and glanced down at her.

     "Yeah, ice-brain," Vilkas answered in a semi-aggressive tone, "Argonians are lizards."

     "Be nice," Jade sighed then looked up at Farkas, loving the attention, "Have you seen any 'lizards' in Whiterun lately, love?"

     Farkas blushed a little under the layer of soot covering his cheeks, "Uh-..."

     Vilkas and Jade stared at him for a long moment as he thought. Clearly, the pressure was getting to him. Jade reached up and tweaked his chin.

     "Yeah, yeah," he finally responded, "I saw one. A battlemage sell-sword type. Some guards were taking him to the jail a few days ago."

     "Jail...?" she groaned sounding defeated, "Ugh... yeah, that sounds like the one I'm looking for."

     "Do you need us to break him out?" Vilkas asked with an eager smile on his face. It sort of reminded her of Cicero whenever the prospect of killing arose.

     The Companions were not known for crime. They were a highly respected guild in Whiterun and most parts of Skyrim. But just because these boys were Companions didn't mean that they weren't still young men with a taste for excitement and mischief. That was something that Jade knew she could manipulate.

     "Oh," she smiled, turning back to Vilkas and gazing seductively at his lips, "Would you?"

     Suddenly, Farkas grunted and unsheathed his blade before making a beeline for the Cloud District. Vilkas and Jade silently watched him go.

     "...We might have to break him out, too," Vilkas said flatly.

>>> New characters added to the Character Guide Book: Vilkas and Farkas

Chapter Text

   "You there! Companion!" a guard shouted out of breath from the top of the steps of Dragonsreach.

     Vilkas pointed to himself to confirm that he was the one being addressed. Jade, who was climbing the stairs behind him pulled her cowl over her head and quickly turned away, backing down a few steps to avoid being recognized. She pulled the loose fabric up over her nose.

     "Are you speaking to me?" Vilkas asked and continued toward the guard.

     "You're the twin, right?"

     "I suppose," he replied already knowing that his brother had gotten himself into trouble within the few minutes it took to catch up. But to what degree?

     "Your other half just ran in here and punched a guard in the throat. He shouted something about a distraction as we arrested him," the guard sheathed his blade, "Do you know anything about this?"

     Jade tried not to laugh. As simple-minded as Farkas was, his spontaneous 'plan' to bust into Dragonsreach and get himself arrested was actually pretty clever and could be their ticket to getting into the jail with less suspicion.

     "Aye," Vilkas shook his head, "Too much mead and a few clunks on the head. I'll go talk to him."

     "Very well. It has been a bit quiet around here, crime-wise," the guard explained as he turned to lead Vilkas into the keep, "Haven't had too much action since that nutty Dragonborn flew through here a few months back."

     "You don't say?" Vilkas glanced back down the steps at Jade. She had her hand on her forehead in a regretful manner.

     The guard heaved a sigh, "Shouting, picking locks, and pickpocketing. I mean, don't get me wrong. She's very nice on the eyes. If she wasn't such a psycho, I'd have made a move on 'er."

     Jade glared daggers into the back of the guard's head from a safe distance. He wished. She would have shouted him into Oblivion at that very moment if it wouldn't ruin her chances at getting her mission done cleanly.

     "Well, she is the Dragonborn," Vilkas continued to force conversation as they made their way through the longhouse to keep attention off of the hooded female following him, "She could probably land any man she wanted. You think you'd have a chance with her?"

     "Ha!" the guard pulled his keys from his belt, "I may not be much to look at under this helmet, but I did come in third place in the aged mutton eating competition in Windhelm two years in a row."

     "...Wow," Vilkas tried his best to fake enthusiasm, "That's quite a thing..."

     Jade wanted so badly to make a joke but refrained with much effort. The guard led them down a flight of steps and unlocked a wooden door leading into the underground jail. He turned and glanced back at Jade. She shrugged up, holding the wrap over her mouth and nose.

     "Wait up... Is she with you?" he asked blocking the doorway.

     "Ah, yes," Vilkas reached back and put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close, "This is my fiance'. She's a bit shy. Just came in from... uh..."

     "Stormhaven," Jade mumbled in a soft voice.

     "High Rock, eh?" the guard bought it, "Never been, myself. I hear it rains a lot."

     Once inside the jail, the guard took a seat at a long wooden table and put his feet up. He seemed very lax about his job. "Through there and to the left," he yawned and gestured, "Two hundred and fifty gold for release. But I recommend just letting him sleep it off."

     "Thank you, sir," Vilkas nodded to the guard and hooked his arm under Jade's. They rounded the corner cautiously. Two other guards came down the corridor from the line of cells, looked them over briefly, and then left the area.

     "That seemed too easy," Jade whispered as she began searching the cell block. All of the cells appeared empty. Vilkas made his way to the end as if he could smell his brother's presence. Jade followed but stopped when she finally spotted the Argonian. He was sitting on a bench in the back corner of his cell with his head down. She glanced around one last time to make sure the guards had all left before moving up to the bars. Even as her shadow cast over him, the target didn't lift his gaze to her.

     "Meegs, I presume?" she asked in a low tone.

     The Argonian didn't react. Was he deaf? Or just rude? Jade was pretty sure this was the guy she was looking for. He wasn't dressed as a typical commoner. He clearly had combat training of some sort. Perhaps some scare tactics would loosen his tongue.

     "I've been looking for you. I am the Dragonborn. Slayer of Alduin. Savior of Skyrim."

     Finally, the lizard lifted his yellow eyes to look in her direction. He was quite hard to read. Was he so intimidated that he couldn't move? Probably not. If anything, he didn't appear to give a shit.

     Jade cleared her throat and looked down the corridor toward Vilkas who was talking to his brother through the bars of his cell. She wanted to ask for help but also didn't want to appear weak in front of the target. She turned back to the Argonian.

     "I'm here to break you out."

     Meegs tilted his head slightly as if not convinced. But at least she knew he wasn't deaf.

     "I... I need your assistance in a matter; something of dire importance," Jade tried to make herself sound big and tough as she realized that she should have thought up some story to feed him before waltzing in there.

     "Is that so?" Meegs finally spoke in a deep raspy tone. He stood slowly and moved over to the bars, crossing his arms, "Why me?"

     Jade stepped back, noticing that he had mages robes on under his armor. He may have been unarmed, but he could very easily conjure something if he so wished. He was also rather tall for an Argonian lending him a 'dragon-esque' vibe.

     "I was informed that you are one of the best sellswords in the hold- nay- the region," Jade removed her cowl to attempt to convey a more personal impression.

     Meegs squinted, looking her over. His towering and confident stature seemed to be shifting the air of authority toward him. Jade had to remind herself that he was the one in the cage. Several seconds of silence passed between them. The twins' incoherent chatter was all that remained.

     "You claim to be Dovahkiin?" Meegs grunted, "Prove it."

     "I-" Jade realized that usually when she would be flaunting her status for praise that there was always a dragon or jarl around to 'vouch' for her. Heck, she didn't know it herself until the Grey Beards told her.

     "Demonstrate the thu'um," he glowered down his nose at her.

     "Shout?" Jade looked around, "Here? I don't think that's wise...."

     Meegs scoffed and returned to the bench to sit. What a stubborn-... She hated stubborn people. Even though Jade was probably the most stubborn person you'd ever meet, she couldn't stand the thought of someone else refusing to do something just out of spite. She was the queen of that so she knew it when she saw it.

     "You're telling me that you don't want me to break you out of jail unless I can prove to you that I'm the Dragonborn? Am I reading this correctly?" her agitation was beginning to show.

     Meegs leaned his back on the wall and stared into the shadows ignoring her. This jerk was just asking to be sacrificed! Jade would pick the lock to the cell just to strangle him with her bare hands but she didn't want to take the chance of him escaping before she could poison him.

     "Fine," she huffed, "But just one word. This could really screw up this jailbreak, you know..."

     The jerk STILL didn't look at her. He seriously didn't trust her claim. Jade began running through all of the words of power she knew in her head trying to think of the least destructive when suddenly she felt violently ill. A wave of nausea overcame her ability to be intimidating and she found herself turning away just to involuntarily vomit on the wall. Meegs looked.

     "Jade?" Vilkas sounded rightfully confused as he stepped over to see, "What is wrong? Are you ill?"

     "Ah... I'm... I'm alright," she replied feeling flush with embarrassment as she wiped her mouth with her arm, "Just some food poisoning..."

     "It's called morning sickness," Meegs chuckled as he stood once more, "Food poisoning doesn't suddenly hit and leave."

     Jade snapped her head around to look in his direction with a stern and harsh glare. "What would you know?" she hissed.

     "Well, your quick and defensive reply just now for one," he explained casually, "The fact that your custom armor is clearly too tight around your chest suggesting a change in mass since you had it made... and for a woman your age and build, that sort of change isn't typical. Your face is bright red with embarrassment that no warrior who vomited from common food poisoning would have-"

     "This is none of your business!" she barked, "I should set your cell on fire and leave you to burn! I don't have to stand here and be insulted by the likes of you! These are such wild allegations that I-" Jade noticed Vilkas not so subtly examining the fit of her leather armor with his eyes.

     "Mood swings," Meegs continued.

     "What am I missing?" Farkas called from the other cell.

     "A brain," Vilkas replied flatly.

     Jade crossed her arms over her chest and frowned. It was clear that this lizard was trying to humiliate her and knock her down from her status of power. If trying to appear tough wasn't going to work, then she needed to adapt and work this new angle.

     "Alright..." she sighed, "You got me. I'm pregnant. That is actually part of why I'm here."

     "You are...?" Vilkas took a step back looking rather uncomfortable.

     "I am what?" Farkas called again. He couldn't see or hear any of the conversation and was feeling left out.

     "An oaf," Vilkas replied.

     "Well, I'm not going to infect you with fatherhood," Jade glared at Vilkas's strange and almost disrespectful retreat.

     Meegs leaned on the bars seeming quite interested in this new development.

     "You want me to kill the father, is that it?" he asked in an upbeat tone.

     "Uh-... yeah!" Jade decided to just run with it, "Sure! It would be too high-profile for me to do it myself so I figured you were my best bet for getting the job done cleanly."

     "Why not hire the Dark Brotherhood?"

     Jade's mind went blank. The nausea was gone, but she was still feeling a bit lightheaded.

     "I'll do it," Vilkas chimed in, no longer horrified by the news.

     "Do what?" Farkas called.

     Jade held her head as it throbbed. She didn't have the patience for this shit. All she could think about was going back to the inn and going to bed. Or eating something and going to bed. Just eating in bed.

     "Mr. Meegs, I'll give you five hundred gold to kill my boyfriend," she sighed.

     "Boyfriend? That's news to me," Vilkas was not going to let it go.

     "Who's her boyfriend?" Farkas really wanted to be a part of the drama.

     "Do we have a deal?" Jade was trying her best to tune out the brothers.

     Meegs stepped back from the bars and looked her over again. He was obviously still a bit skeptical but was at least considering it.

     "Alright, deal," he said finally, "How high-profile are we talking? Is he some jarl because that will cost extra. I'm not an assassin, specifically."

     "We can talk about the details once we get you out of here," Jade said and moved back up to the bars. She removed a vial from her coin pouch and held it out to him, "Take this potion of invisibility. It will make it easier for us to sneak you through the guardhouse."

      Meegs stared at the suspicious potion in her palm. His distrusting nature was getting on Jade's nerves. She twitched her hand to express urgency.

     "It only lasts for about twenty seconds," she explained, "It's not very potent, so don't worry."

     Meegs picked up the vial and removed the cork with his clawed fingers. He sniffed it while watching her. The potion had no scent. His eyes drifted to Vilkas and then back to Jade before he slowly sipped the strange liquid. Jade did her best not to flinch as she watched.

     A few seconds later, the target collapsed onto the cell floor.

     "Finally," Jade exhaled.

     "I think he's dead..." Vilkas said staring down at the unconscious Argonian.

     "He'll be fine," she replied as she began to pick the lock, "Well, maybe not in the long run."

     "I feel that there is a lot you have not told me."

     "You're on a need-to-know basis," Jade popped the lock open and turned to him, "...and you don't need to know."

     "Are you actually with child and actually looking to kill some jarl? Because I can help with the last part. I won't charge you five hundred gold, either." His voice sounded rather awkward.

     "All I need you to do is: first, keep your mouth shut about everything that has been said and done here today... and second, help me carry this jerk to my horse outside the gates."

     "How are we going to get past the guards again carrying the body of a prisoner?" Vilkas began to pick Meegs up off the stone floor.

     Jade stepped out of his way and walked over to Farkas's cell. He was leaning with his face pressed between the bars.

     "Farkas, love," she smiled and flicked his nose playfully with her fingertip, "Wanna play fetch with some guards?"

>>> New character added to the Character Guide Book: Meegs

Chapter Text

    Ivarstead was a small village in the western Rift with very little to see or do. It served as a rest stop for pilgrims before ascending up the seven-thousand steps to the monastery of High Hrothgar. The journey to the top of the Throat of the World (the highest point in all of Tamriel) was more entertaining than this boring village. For that, Nazir and Babette's presence there was noticed almost immediately.

     They had been revising their plan to obtain the Ancient Blood target for over an hour and Nazir was growing impatient as the sun began to set and the cool night air crept in.  He shivered as he leaned against the outer wall of the Vilemyr Inn. Babette knelt beside him in the grass as she dug through her pouch of poisons and other nefarious concoctions.

     "The longer we stand around here," Nazir groaned, "the less likely we can do this without arousing suspicion."

     "Alright, alright," Babette stood up and handed Nazir one of the many vials she had brought, "I just want to make sure we have a few backup plans if this gets messy. Coat your dagger with that."

     "Why would it get 'messy'? You've been doing contracts for decades..." he muttered while doing what was requested.

     "Yeah, but I never had to take the body WITH me," Babette wiped her hands on her dress.

     "Touche'... but, from what I've gathered, we have the easiest of the five targets," Nazir explained, "First off, he's a Khajiit. Not only are they rarely allowed within the borders of a town, but most Nords in Skyrim wouldn't bat an eye if one suddenly got 'removed', so to speak."

     "True."

     "The Night Mother also mentioned that he was a follower of Sanguine. I'm assuming he's already inebriated enough that he might just walk out with us on his own with the promise of a free drink."

     "I'm not betting on that," Babette turned and climbed the steps to the inn, "I like to stick with what I know. Stay out of sight. Once he's outside, I'll lead him to you around back and just simply cut him. The poison is potent enough to be effective with even a tiny bit of exposure."

     Nazir sighed. He'd known Babette for many years and they'd always gotten along charmingly. In fact, he adored her dark and sinister nature. But he still never could get past feeling like he's being bossed around by a kid. Sure, she was a few hundred years older than him... but her cursed body of a child and tiny voice still caused him to also feel the need to look out for her. Though, the little vampris was quite capable of taking care of herself.

     Babette paused at the door to the inn and closed her eyes. She took a deep breath and began shaking her hands out as she mentally prepared herself. This was like a stage performance for her and she was in the leading role. The moment she stepped inside, the lights would be on her! She was an amazing actress and had lured many a poor soul to the Void simply by pulling on their heartstrings, taking full advantage of her appearance.

     With a long exhale, Babette pushed the door open and stepped inside to the warmly lit aura of a tavern. There were several other people lounging about, partaking in food and drink, most likely just passing through. Nothing out of the ordinary. The tavern part of the inn was probably the only thing to do in this shabby town. She hugged her arms to appear cold and afraid and scanned the long room for anyone with fur. Sure enough, a Khajiit sat at the bar with a tankard in hand and a lute by his leg. Of all the places for the target to be seated, he was closest to the bartender/inn-keeper; the one person there who would likely sound the alarm on any shenanigans. Best to get it over with quickly.

     Babette shuffled over to the bar as she attempted to work up some tears.

     "Sir?" she said in a tiny voice as she pulled at the Khajiit's robe, "Please! My momma was attacked by some bandits on the side of the road! Please, help her!"

     "Show me!" the large balding bartender said reaching for his hatchet under the counter.

     "This one has this," the Kahjiit smiled a wide toothy grin, holding his paw up to the man, "This little lady is asking Tripp for assistance."

     Babette was pleased that the mark so easily confirmed his identity to her. Not that she had any doubts with him being the only cat-man there.

     "Please, Mr. Kitty! They stole our horse and supplies!" she continued.

     "Ah, such a shame," Tripp took a sip of his drink, "Is the little one sure that they were not bandits, but rather the Dawnguard?"

     Babette paused her pretend tears and stared at him. He appeared smug and was clearly in no rush to aid her.

     "W-what?" she took a small step back and began monitoring the other patrons in the corner of her eye, "What is the Dawnguard? Why would they hurt my momma?"

     "Maybe the child's mother is a vampire, also? It might be safer to stay indoors, small one."

     "Wh..." Well, that threw Babette for a loop. No one had ever seen through her ruse so quickly. This was unheard of! He hardly had to look at her and knew something was amiss. Perhaps this feline wasn't as oblivious as she had hoped.

     "Vampire?" she twitched a little as she struggled to keep her cool and regain control of the situation... as if she even had it to begin with.

     Tripp curled his upper lip and tongued his fangs at her, "Yes, yes. They have fangs like a cat. See? Like this crying child has here?" He gestured to her.

     Babette stared into space. Quite perceptive in such a dark tavern. Oh. Khajiit have an uncanny ability to see well in the dark... also like vampires. A simple oversight.

     "Is everything alright here?" the barkeep asked leaning over to see her better.

     "Not a problem, Wilhelm. This small woman is playing a game with Tripp," the mark chuckled.

     Well, her cover was blown. It's a good thing she took the time to come up with a plan B. 

     Babette forced a laugh and leaned her arm on a stool. "Clever cat," she smiled up at him as she fought the powerful urge to stab him in the knee, "I'll buy you a drink."

     "This one would appreciate that, friend," he motioned to the barkeep.

     Wilhelm hesitated for a moment, staring down at the child who only moments ago was crying about her mother being attacked. He had seen a lot of strange visitors in his thirty-odd years working there and figured it best not to get involved.

     "Oh," Babette patted her hips, "Seems I left my coin purse outside. I should go get that..."

     Tripp and Wilhelm watched her turn and run out of the inn.

     "What was that all about?" The barkeep asked.

     "Entertainment," Tripp replied, holding his finger up, "Tripp will take that drink now. She will return."

     "Are you sure?"

     "Oh, yes," he licked some dribbled mead from his lips, "There is more to this, one can assure you."

~

     Babette flew out of the inn like it was burning to the ground behind her. She leaped down the steps and sprinted around to the side of the building.

     "Plan B, Nazir!" she yelled, startling him, "Plan B!"

     "Already? What did you do?"

     "I don't want to talk about it, but this guy is a fast thinker," she explained, grabbing her pouch of potions and motioning for him to follow.

     Nazir didn't like where this was going. There was a reason that he was the one to organize and hand out the contracts. There was also a reason that he was more than happy to take on the role of Speaker. Less footwork. Less chance of complications for him to deal with.

     Nazir waited a few moments before following Babette inside so they didn't appear to be together. She was already pulling herself up onto one of the stools at the bar and looked to be ordering drinks from a very concerned-looking barkeep. He surveyed the room taking notes on the other patrons in case he needed that info for later. You never know who you might end up having to fight. It's always best to size them up before they even notice you.

     "I don't serve children ale," Wilhelm mumbled as he poured the drinks, "But Tripp here vouches that you're some sort of vampire? How old are you exactly?"

     "It's not polite to ask a woman's age," Babette smiled as she placed some gold on the counter, "But let's just say that I'm old enough to remember the Oblivion Crisis."

     Nazir took a seat on the opposite side of the mark and tried not to make eye contact with anyone. 

     Wilhelm shrugged and placed a fresh tankard of mead in front of both Tripp and Babette. "Don't make me regret this," he grumbled looking back and forth between them before turning to Nazir, "And what can I get for you, sir? We have drink, food, and rooms."

     "I'm fine, thank you," he said in a low tone.

     Babette cleared her throat and squinted at him while tapping her cup rhythmically with her fingertips.

     "On second thought, I think I'll have a drink. Your local ale is fine," Nazir corrected himself. He didn't want to become distracted with drinking, but it might be the only way to go about this without being too obvious.

     "The vampire child has seen quite a lot of war, one would take it?" Tripp asked, seemingly amused by her existence, "Many tales of woe, Khajiit is sure."

     "Oh, I try to see the silver lining in everything," she replied, "Death isn't the worst thing that could happen to someone."

     "This is true, but it is the last in many cases."

     "You are a bard?" Nazir chimed in trying to sound interested... which was a very difficult thing for him. Babette straightened her back as the mark turned away to face her partner sitting to his left. She subtly slipped her hand into the pouch on her hip.

     "This one is not of the college, but prefers to write for himself, see?" Tripp placed his hand over his heart.

     "You don't play for money?" Nazir continued to distract him.

     "Is the kindly Redguard making a request?"

     "I-... I'm sure-... I am!"

     Babette watched the barkeep's back as he poured Nazir's drink from a keg. She quickly dumped the vial of poison into Tripp's tankard and disposed of the empty container under the stool.

     "Excellent, then! Tripp only knows songs he himself writes, good?"

     "Great," Nazir was struggling to strip the sarcasm from his tone.

     Tripp lifted his lute and suddenly turned to Babette. Startled, she jumped a little but quickly threw a grin on her face.

     "This song is dedicated to the little vampire woman," he said and slid off his stool as he began to strum the strings. The other patrons instantly jumped up and began cheering and clapping along. It appeared that Tripp was a regular here and quite popular with the locals. That would explain why he is the only Khajiit Babette or Nazir had ever seen inside a tavern in this province.

     "Dance!" Tripp cheered and effortlessly vaulted up onto the bar as he played, "Dance and drink, friends! The night is young!"

     Babette moved over to Nazir as the other patrons became rowdy and excited. They all seemed to know the lively and bouncy tune. Then, a flute somewhere in the tavern joined in on key, and people began pounding the tables to the beat. This made Babette a bit nervous, being as small as she was. These big men and women slamming things around and dancing drunkenly could get her easily stepped on. Any other time, she'd have just excused herself and left. Nazir placed his hand on her shoulder to reassure her. Of course, he wasn't dancing either.

     Wilhelm handed Nazir his drink and smiled. This must have been what made living in Ivarstead even remotely tolerable. It was a shame that the Brotherhood needed this mark for other things. He seemed to be the only spark of entertainment these people had.

     Tripp danced across the bar calling out words for the others to cheer back. He obviously wasn't a singer, but his ability to get the audience wound up was flawless. The music went on for several minutes before coming to an epic ending resulting in a huge uproar of cheers and laughter. The mark leaped off the bar out of breath and took his seat. Babette and Nazir returned to their seats on either side of him as well.

     "Did the new friend enjoy this one's melody?" Tripp asked turning to Nazir with a warm smile.

     "Very much so," he replied and slid a septim over to the winded Khajiit.

     "I'll drink to that!" Babette spoke up grabbing her tankard and holding it up.

     "Yes! To the bard!" Nazir joined in; his voice actually full of enthusiasm. Mostly because he was ready to get this over with. The ruckus that had developed was giving him a headache. If he wanted to be trapped in a room with loud singing and dancing, he'd bunk with Cicero.

     Tripp smiled and grabbed the drink before him. He held it up to tap it against their mugs and swiftly downed the whole thing. Babette sipped her mead and anxiously watched him over the rim. Several seconds passed... nothing.

     "Another round for our new friends!" the mark called to Wilhelm, sliding the empty tankard away and wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve.

     Babette frowned and exchanged glances with Nazir. It was then that she noticed that the lights of the tavern seemed to gradually dim. She glanced around to see if anyone else noticed. The patrons all seemed to be going about their business of drinking and socializing... Babette's eyes lowered to her tankard as her consciousness began to dip along with the lights.

     "H... how-?" Everything went black and she slid off of her stool to the wooden floor.

>>> New character added to the Character Guide Book: Tripp

Chapter Text

     Nazir didn't move a muscle as he stared down at Babette's unconscious body on the floor. It was obvious to him what had happened. Drawing attention to his association with her by running to her aid would have been a bad idea. There was still a job to be done.

     "Ah-ha!" Tripp beamed down at her, "Not so observant, little assassin," he laughed.

     Nazir was silently fuming, but his facade remained calm and cool. Somehow this Khajiit switched the mugs while dancing on the table. Such a simple case of misdirection and Babette fell for it. Literally. He didn't want to be anywhere near her when she ultimately woke up and figured out what had happened. She may be small, but Babette could throw a tantrum to rival that of a frost troll.

     "Tricky," Nazir sighed, "She almost had you."

     "Ah, Tripp is wise," the target said, turning to his new friend, "Many attempts have been made on this one's life. Survived every one of them."

     "Clearly," Nazir was beginning to understand why this guy was chosen as a vessel for the Ancient Blood. Tough to kill was a good trait to have.

     Wilhelm placed fresh drinks on the bar for them before leaning over the edge to check on the unconscious vampress. "Will she be alright?" he asked, still hesitant to get involved.

     "Perhaps the child-woman is a lightweight?" Tripp chuckled trying to keep the cheery vibe alive. He sipped his mead and noticed Nazir sliding a bag of gold across the counter to him.

     "You seem like the betting type," he said patting the bag.

     "Indeed. Tripp is very familiar with the dealings of the coin."

     "Of course," Nazir nodded to the tankard in the Khajiit's hand, "How about you and I make a little wager? Just a bit of fun."

     "This one is listening," Tripp continued to drink his mead seemingly unbothered by the recent attempt on his life.

     "A drinking contest. You and I."

     "Drinking is right up Tripp's alley. This new friend will be sorry with a hangover tomorrow!"

     "Is that so?" Nazir leaned in close and lowered his voice, "Well, I happen to have a sealed stash of Balmora Blue."

     "...Surely, you pull Khajiit's tail. Such a thing is banned in Skyrim. Impossible to get one's paws on..."

     "A bandit caravan was intercepted and raided by some hold guards a few months back," Nazir explained, "One of the guards was crooked. Traded it to me for a pair of scimitars. He had some strange fascination with curved swords. He couldn't get over the concept for some reason."

     Tripp's pupils dilated. His better judgment was being clouded by such an inciting and rare proposition. He was well aware that it could easily be a ruse. The unconscious vampire assassin on the floor was proof of that. But Tripp couldn't give up the chance to try something as taboo and elusive as Balmora Blue.

     "Last one standing gets the gold... and the lute," Nazir nodded to the instrument leaning on the bar. He figured it was something the target held dear and would possibly make the bet that much more exciting.

     "Tripp must see this bottle before agreeing."

     "Of course," Nazir grinned and stood up. He reached into his pocket and removed a rather fancy purple flask. It was similar in appearance to a common skooma container, just a bit larger. It was subtly etched with Dunmeri symbols. Tripp's whiskers perked.

     "This stuff is quite potent," Nazir explained, "Laced with moon sugar; just one sip will give you a buzz."

     "Let us see, please!" Tripp held his paws out and wiggled his fingers anxiously. Nazir handed it over. The Khajiit quickly removed the cap and sniffed it. His eyes rolled back in his head in ecstasy.

     "As divine as the wine of Sanguine..." he purred.

     "You're game, then?" Nazir pushed a bit.

     "Only if the new friend drinks first. Tripp is quite wary of trusting drinks from strangers," he said pointing at Babette with his foot.

     "Indeed."

     Nazir took the bottle back and took a sip making sure to open his mouth a little to show the liquid on his tongue before swallowing. He smacked his lips and handed the bottle back.

     "Round one," he sat back down on his stool.

     Tripp held the bottle like it was a precious jewel. This drink had been described as 'beyond priceless' in rarity. Everything about the bet should have had him skeptical... but he couldn't resist. With much care, he lifted the bottle to his lips and sipped. The liquid burned a little going down, but it had a subtle sweet aftertaste that was quite enjoyable.

     "You good?" Nazir asked holding his hand out for the bottle.

     Tripp stared at him for a moment as if waiting for something bad to happen. Nothing. He smiled cautiously and exhaled as he handed it back.

     "Like liquid sex," the target twitched his tail.

     "Round two," Nazir nodded while holding a blank poker face. He wiped the rim of the bottle before taking another swig.

     Wilhelm watched the two go back and forth for several minutes with no sign of slowing down. As round five began, it was clear that Tripp was not doing well. He was having a tough time holding himself upright and had to lean all of his weight on the counter. 

     Nazir held the bottle to his lips but paused before sipping again. "You out?" he asked raising his eyebrows.

     "Tripp... Tripp still hash some... in him..." the inebriated Khajiit sputtered. He was no stranger to the effects of moon sugar, but this... this was something new.

     "We can call it if you'd like-"

     "No... by Sanguine himslelf, thish one can continyew..."

     "If you insist," Nazir shrugged and took another drink. He held the nearly empty container out for the target to take. Tripp closed one eye and struggled to grab the blurry bottle with his double vision. Nazir manually placed it in his palm and leaned his elbow on the bar to watch. As sad as it was to outdrink a follower of Daedric Prince Sanguine, he found a bit of humor in the evening's events. A nice change from the drama the Listener had been throwing around recently.

     Tripp struggled to get the last few drops from the bottle into his mouth before wobbling himself off of his stool and hitting the floor with a loud thud. Wilhelm and Nazir both leaned over to look.

     "I have to ask," the bartender said glancing at Nazir, "You both drank the same amount. I've seen this cat drink three flagons in one night and still walk a straight line. How come you aren't as piss drunk as he?"

     "I grew up drinking this stuff," Nazir replied casually and pushed the bag of gold across the bar to him, "For the trouble. I'll take care of the cleanup."

     "Uh- he has a room here, the second one on the-"

     "The poor fellow needs some fresh air," Nazir interrupted, "Wouldn't want him vomiting all over your nice establishment here."

     "Wouldn't be the first time," Wilhelm mumbled.

     Nazir bent down and collected Babette over his shoulder. Some of the patrons began noticing this strange scene.

     "Her too, eh?"

     "Yeah," Nazir smiled weakly, "She's an old friend. I owe her the courtesy."

     "Ah... a-alright then," the bartender didn't really want to argue. There wasn't a guard in this one-horse town to report suspicious behavior, so he decided to keep his nose out of it. A lot of strange folks pass through Ivarstead daily. Not every encounter could be explained. Not everything needed to be. Stories like this made for good gossip on the boring lonely nights in between.

Chapter Text

     Planning ahead, Sage made sure to rent a wagon and horse before heading to Winterhold. Being a small Bosmer, he knew he wouldn't be able to haul an unconscious Altmer up onto a  horse securely and ride back to the Sanctuary, even with Ruby's assistance.

     The air was dry and very cold even though the sky was clear and blue. The wind shuffled the snowdrifts around as Sage stopped the cart just outside of the town. There was a small caravan of Khajiit merchants bundled up in coats and furs around their makeshift tents by the side of the path. They watched as Sage climbed down from the driver's seat and turned to help Ruby. The shawl he had given her to wear to shield her from the cold was slipping off her shoulders. Being a snow elf, the chill didn't much bother her, but Sage's Valenwood blood couldn't wait to find a nice fireplace to warm up. He pulled the shawl up and closed it around her as she beamed at him.

     "Welcome to Winterhold," Sage said as he casually put his arm around her and guided her up the path, "That tower over there is part of the college. A lot of gifted people come here to study the art of magic. It's not the most impressive campus I've been to... but it's got its perks."

     Ruby obviously didn't understand his words. She had her sights locked on the caravan. Sage noticed her interest and led her over.

     "Good afternoon, fair travelers!" a female Khajiit said as she stood, "We have many fine wares for sale. Please, take a look!"

     Ruby shuffled over to the tents and began browsing the colorful and unique fabrics displayed on boxes and racks. The dyes and stitching seemed to be from other far-off lands. As she browsed the goods, Sage peeked into his coin purse. He didn't know much about proper clothes or fashion. He'd always made his own or snatched discarded materials as needed. One didn't need to be heavily dressed in the jungles of the Green. He wanted to please Ruby and he knew that girls liked to be spoiled.

     "Ah," the Khajiit stepped over to Sage upon seeing the coin pouch, "Akhari senses that the Bosmer's slave is treated well, yes?"

     "Eh?" Sage finally noticed the merchant hovering around him, "My slave-... no, she's not my slave. I'm just taking care of her..."

     "This one apologizes for the misunderstanding. Perhaps the Bosmer fancies the young elf with the shackles?"

     "Yeah, I-..." he stepped back trying to regain some personal space, "I'd like to buy her something nice."

     "Oh! Then Akhari has just the thing for the traveler's eye!" The Khajiit ran back to her tent and retrieved a long box. She used a key to open it and motioned to Sage to come look. "Made from beautiful ancient silk from Reaper's March. Sewn in Rawl'kha by an old Bosmer refugee woman, and blessed at the Temple of Two-Moons Dance," the merchant pulled out the folded article of clothing and held it up, "You like?"

     Sage was quite familiar with Reaper's March. He had lived there for several years. Just hearing the name again made his jaw clench. He took the garment from the Khajiit and unfolded it to get a better look. It was a short indigo gown with white trim that seemed to glisten in the sun.

     "Elaborate backstory aside, this is indeed quite impressive," Sage ran his fingers over the silk.

     "Fit for a queen. Fit for the traveler's girl, no?"

     Sage glanced up at the Khajiit. His ability to barter with a merchant was not something he'd ever practiced. He was an excellent liar and manipulator, though. He'd been pulling others' strings his entire life. It was the only reason he was still alive, really. Unfortunately, Sage had learned the trick of the silver tongue from growing up around shady Khajiit, so trying to use his skills on one, especially a caravan merchant, could prove quite difficult.

     "How much?" he asked flatly, already knowing never to take the offered price.

     "Only 500 coin, friend," Akhari smiled and clasped her claws together.

     "Can't do it," Sage handed the gown back, "Imported, ancient, or blessed... that's just too rich for my blood."

     "Khajiit can bargain! How about 450?"

     "We don't have time to bargain," he said looking back at Ruby who had her arms full of fabrics at the other tent, "My love is ill and I am taking her to the college in hope of finding a cure before it's too late."

     "That is so sad, my friend! For this, Akhari will sell for 350! In the gods favor."

     She was going down in price rather quickly. Either this merchant wasn't a good negotiator, or the gown wasn't really worth as much as she had claimed and was getting desperate.

     "I would truly love to dress her in something beautiful just one time in her tragically short life. My Ruby has a heart of gold that outweighs the price of any dress."

     "300, friend. This one's heart aches for you. Akhari can see you love the pale elf very much."

     "We should get going. It's not good for her to be out in the cold weather like this-"

     "250! This is a good sale, yes? Surely, the weary traveler has 250 gold to buy such a nice dress for his pretty girl..." the Khajiit was getting frustrated trying desperately to make the sale.

     "200 and we have a deal," Sage said turning back to the flustered merchant. It was likely the dress wasn't worth that either, but he decided to take advantage of the offer before he lost his chance.

     "Oh! Very good, friend!" Akhari bowed slightly, "You had this one by the tail!"

     'Hardly,' Sage thought as he began counting out the gold. Ruby ran over carrying some pink and red rolls of fabric and began bouncing up and down making a sewing gesture with her hand.

     "And the fabrics she has as well," Sage said and just handed the entire coin purse to the merchant. 

     Akhari opened the pouch and looked inside seeing at least 500 gold. She wasn't sure whether to feel swindled or appreciative. "Ah- t-this one thanks the kind traveler for such fair service...!"

     Sage held the gown up to Ruby, "I got you something nice to wear instead of that ratty farm dress. I think it's your color. What do you think?"

     Ruby's lips parted in awe as her bright eyes gazed at the silky new garment. She almost dropped her fabrics as she reached to touch it.

     "The odd-eyed elf girl can use this one's tent to change, yes?" the other female Khajiit at the fabric tent called.

     Eager to see her in it, Sage quickly led Ruby back toward the tent, "This nice cat lady will help you try it on," he said and made sure to explain to the merchant that Ruby was not able to fully understand their language. The Khajiit nodded kindly and led her inside to assist.

     Sage paced away to give them privacy and returned to the wagon to place the rolls of fabric in the back. As he waited, he glanced toward the college and ran through his plan in his head.  Luckily, he'd been there several times since coming to Skyrim and knew his way around. The target wouldn't be difficult to spot. Being Thalmor, she was likely to be dressed in their typical uniform. He figured there would be time to wander. The Arcanaeum would be their first stop. Hopefully, he could locate some books about ancient Falmeri culture or language. Knowing that scholars often utilized the library, there was a good chance he'd at least be able to talk to someone in a similar field of study. 

     Sage felt he had made some progress with his ability to communicate with Ruby without relying on trying to pronounce her words. She may have been a simple-minded girl, but she was a very quick learner. She already recognized and associated words with an understanding. To a point. Some sort of sign language might be the next step.

     Sage's train of thought was interrupted by the sound of footsteps bounding toward him. He turned just in time to be pounced on by a very excited Ruby. She clearly liked the dress and was very grateful.

     "Let me see," Sage gently pulled away. Ruby took a few steps back and brushed her hands down the sides to smooth the fabric out. The low neckline framed her soft cleavage and the angle of the trim on the skirt offered a little more leg than Sage was used to seeing from her. She no longer looked like a sheepish little servant girl. She looked like a royal knock-out.

     "I-..." he struggled to find the appropriate words, "I... I like it."

     Ruby beamed as she curtsied. Sage was finding it difficult to take his eyes off of her. He instantly felt that purchasing the gown was probably the best decision he'd made in a while. It was the gift that kept on giving.

~

     The Arcanaeum was the name of the extensive library of the college that collected, restored, borrowed, and lent tens of thousands of books and scripts. The ceiling was high to complement the towering rows of bookcases, many of which were sealed behind glass panels to protect the rare and aging documents from weathering and thieves. 

     Ruby was fascinated by the echoing sound her shoes made on the tile floor. For a prestigious school such as this, there were not a lot of people utilizing the library at that time. It almost felt abandoned. The scent of old parchment didn't help. Sage noticed Ruby's child-like curiosity about the various displays and allowed her to explore the quiet chamber on her own as he made his way to the librarian's desk at the back. A rather intimidating old Orc sat behind it, chewing on a loaf of bread as he thumbed through a ledger of sorts.

     "Oh," the librarian grunted in a deep tone, "It's you again."

     "Yes, hi," Sage leaned on the desk in a casual manner, "I'm actually hoping you can help me with something."

     "I already told you, little elf. We don't carry law books. If we had any, they'd be in the donation pile that I have yet to sift through... and I'm in no hurry."

     "No, no," Sage lowered his tone, "I'm looking for some books on Falmer. Specifically translations."

     "What in Oblivion for?"

     "I don't believe I need to explain myself."

     The Orc set down his lunch and stood up, leaning over the desk and towering over the little wood elf. "Listen, kid. This is my library. These are my books. I don't have to even let you in the door."

     "Understood," Sage took a few steps back and glanced over his shoulder at Ruby who was examining a large troll skull mounted on a display, "I'm simply interested in learning as much as I can of the Falmeri language... for some research."

     "That's quite vague, but frankly, I don't really care," the Orc grumbled and sat back down, "We do have two books that were written in the Falmeri language but one went missing and the other is in the process of being translated."

     "Translated!?" Sage's ears perked, "By whom?"

     The Orc cringed and curled his lip, glancing away. Sage waited for an answer but noticed that the annoyed librarian was actually looking at someone. There was a thin awkward-looking Breton leaning around the partition separating the reading area from the bookshelves. He was fully dressed in what looked like actual Dwemer robes, though a bit ill-fitting on his skinny frame. The elaborate pair of metal goggles on his forehead suggested that this guy was really into the culture and oddly, he had his wide buggy eyes fixated on... Ruby.

     "Listen," the Orc continued, "If you can convince that nutcase to leave the Arcanaeum long enough for me to change the locks again, I'll see what I can do about finding you some more information on Falmer. But for now, he's actually your best bet on the subject."

     Sage was only half listening and was already heading over, his creep-o-meter on red. The Breton had gotten Ruby's attention. He had bowed, taken her hand, and kissed it all while staring wildly into her eyes.

     "Hey... HEY!" Sage sprinted across the lobby, "Who are you!? Why are you touching her?"

     Ruby's typical smiling expression from making a new friend quickly flipped to one of worry as she felt Sage's level of anxiety rise.

     "Yowza, okay," the Breton took a few nervous steps back even though he was much bigger than Sage... in height. The guy was a bean-pole who looked like he could be knocked over by a stiff wind.

     Sage stepped between Ruby and the bizarre-looking stranger. Was the librarian suggesting that this was the guy who spoke Falmeri enough to translate scripts? Please, Sithis, no...

     "I'm just introducing myself to the pretty little vixen here," the Breton's voice was shrill and almost pubescent. Though his youthful features made him appear to be in his mid-twenties, the streaks of gray in his hair left his actual age in question.

     "She's off limits. Are you the one translating Falmer scripts?"

     "Yes, yes, that's a thing I do. Does she talk?"

     "You're talking to me now, buddy. I need to ask you a few questions," Sage said glancing back at the Orc who was watching the exchange.

     "I have a few questions about those shackles," the Breton leaned around Sage trying to get a better look at Ruby. 

     "Her shackles?"

     "The metal," he pointed to his own throat and wrists, then to Ruby, "Dwemer. Very Dwemer. Did you put those on her? I wanna examine them."

     "No, and I really don't want you touching her-"

     "She's unable to speak, right? No words or sounds?" he tapped his finger on his lips while making eye contact with her.

     Sage felt a chill go up his spine. As creepy as this guy was... perhaps he had the knowledge to help in a different way.

     "Alright," Sage grunted, "You can look at the shackles. But we should leave the library."

     "Yes! Of course. Wouldn't want others to get the wrong idea," the Breton began glancing around.

     "What kind of 'wrong idea'?"

     "Nothing, nothing. Forget I said anything. I have a room in the Hall of Countenance we can use. Privacy away from prying eyes. The name's Sebastian, by the way. Sebastian Jullien Rye." 

>>> New character added to the Character Guide Book: Sebastian Rye

Chapter Text

     Sebastian, the eccentric and strange Breton, had not stopped talking the entire way up to the Hall of Countenance. His questions were endless.

     "So, how did you meet her? Better yet, where? And have you noticed anything strange about her red eye? Is that why you call her Ruby? Cute."

     Sage was beginning to think this might have been a bad idea. He refused to answer any of the rapid questions as he followed Seb who was walking backward to face him. As they entered the dorm room, Sage was relieved to see that there wasn't a proper door that could be closed behind them, just a red tapestry which Sebastian quickly draped across the entry for privacy.

     The small dorm room was filled with stacks upon stacks of books and scrolls, likely 'borrowed' from the Arcanaeum. The walls were covered with maps and strange diagrams. Chunks of what appeared to be Dwarven scrap metal that had been cleaned and polished were organized into specific piles around the floor. There were several large burlap sacks and wooden shipping crates with a Daggerfall address attached and a long list of warnings. In the middle of it all was a single bed with its blankets made making it appear as if it had never been slept in.

     "Okay, shackles!" Seb chirped as he turned to Ruby, his fingers twitching in anticipation.

     "Wait," Sage once again stepped between them, "I need you to answer a few questions before I allow you near her."

     "Eh... fair enough," he sighed and backed off a bit, "What kind of questions? Questions about me? Watch where you poke your nose, chum."

     "I'm more interested in what you know."

     "A lot. I'm a highly educated individual. Self-taught. Don't let my presence here fool you. College is for chumps and their professors are culturally biased. I merely purchased a dorm to have close access to their research materials and privacy while utilizing them. Don't touch my things," Seb cracked his knuckles trying to produce an air of cool but drastically falling short. Ruby sat on the side of the bed and smiled at him regardless. He winked at her.

     "Stop looking at her, please," Sage interjected, "Based on your attire and your 'things', you obviously know a lot about Dwarves?"

     "Dwemer, please. For the love of Xrib, please, say Dwemer. You're a mer, have some respect."

     "...Dwemer. So, you were translating Falmeri too. You know much about them?"

     "Yup, yeah, you were asking that. About the translations. I translate texts of ancient mer."

      Sebastian's rapid way of talking was getting on Sage's nerves. The guy seemed rather socially inept. Based on his scrubby and odd appearance, he probably didn't get along in social settings often.

     "I'd like some help with learning Falmeri. From the basics to however fluent you are," Sage noticed that Seb was still not making eye contact with him, "Perhaps a key for deciphering the scripts myself.  With your clear fascination with Dwemer, do you know much about the Falmer as well?"

     Sebastian's eyes finally moved back to Sage. He had a disgusted look on his face. "Nasty things. Nasty devolved monstrosities begging to be eradicated; clogging up the Dwemer facilities making it impossible to delve in peace," he suddenly smirked, "I have a necklace of petrified Falmer ears, would you like to see?" he asked moving over to a chest in the corner.

     "NO!" Sage blurted out, cutting a glance at Ruby, "No. That's quite alright. Just- can I study the Falmer scripts you've translated so far?"

     "Uhhhhhh.... Yeah, shackles?"

     Heaving a sigh, Sage rubbed his face and leaned down to Ruby sitting on the bed, and placed his hands on her shoulders. "This guy is going to look at your cuffs, okay? You'll be alright," he said tapping the collar lightly.

     Ruby's nod suggested understanding. Sebastian flexed his fingers, the metal of his gauntlets making a snapping sound. 

     "Nice!" he flipped a weird pair of goggles down from his head and adjusted the lens on the right eye. He then grabbed some strange tools from his belt, one resembling a wrench with unique modifications, and knelt before Ruby. Sage stepped aside but stood close by, ready to clobber this jerk if he tried anything... 'handsy'. But strangely, his sole focus was on the Dwemer shackles and not her body.

     "Yup! Oh, yes," Sebastian mumbled to himself as he clamped the tool around the edge of the collar, "Authentic Dwemer tech. Definitely first era, no doubt about that... but it's in such good condition... hardly any scratches or discoloring from environmental wear and tear. Almost like they're new." 

     The other tool, a sort of screwdriver, began to light up with small ancient runes drifting across the surface.  Sebastian glanced at it and clicked his tongue as if mentally logging the information it was giving before reaching down to begin examining the cuffs in the same manner. Ruby watched with almost as much interest. 

     "How did she get these on her?" Seb asked, glancing up at Sage through the freaky goggles.

     "I-... We found her like that," he replied, wondering if it was safe even to give that much information.

     "Found? Was she lost? Where? Found where?"

     "I don't know, I wasn't the one who first found her... somewhere out near Markarth, I believe."

     "B'thar-Zel..." he muttered in thought. Ruby's expression perked upon hearing the name.

     Sebastian swapped tools and adjusted a different lens over his eyepiece and went back to tinkering with the cuffs. It didn't take longer than a few seconds before there was a strange clink. The cuff lit up faintly with a light blue aura before breaking open and falling loose.

     "POP!" Seb exclaimed and quickly removed it to examine. Ruby's skin beneath was terribly scarred and red. She held her freed wrist softly against her lips like a wounded cat.

     "You got it off!?" Sage gasped moving closer to see, "What did you do? We tried everything! We couldn't cut through the metal-"

     "Enchanted. Ancient enchantment, specifically. It's not like a magic-magic enchantment. It's a technology, see? The bronze of the cuffs are embedded with fragmented aetherium which is infused with..." he paused his explanation, staring at Sage who still appeared bewildered, "Well, in layman's terms, it's gotta password. My tools can figure out that password based on a handful of automated algorithms using sound waves by reading them when they reverberate off of the irregularities, sorta like a tonal lockpick-... It's Dwemer magic, kid. Just leave it at that."

     Sebastian turned his attention back to working on the other wrist cuff. Ruby, still touching her newly freed wrist to her face, glanced at Sage with a hopeful yet nervous expression.

     "POP!" Seb removed the second cuff and carefully placed it with the other before proceeding to work on the ankle cuffs. "I am keeping these, right?" He asked, pausing and looking up at Sage. It was more of a statement than a question, almost as if he was subtly threatening not to continue.

     "Yeah, enjoy. They're a symbol of slavery. I don't think she ever wants to see them again," Sage replied but quickly realized that perhaps he shouldn't have said it that way.

     Sebastian stared at him a moment longer without saying anything. One could almost hear the gears turning in his head. Or maybe that was the weird tool he was holding.

     "Hm, yep," he turned back and continued.

     Sage started getting anxious. If he was feeling unsettled like this then he thought maybe Ruby was too. He decided to sit beside her on the bed. She held her wrist out for him to see and smiled softly. The damaged skin from who knows how many years of wearing those things was heartbreaking to see.

     "POP!" Seb placed the newly opened ankle shackle with the other two and moved to the last one.

     "How did you know she was unable to speak?" Sage asked cautiously. He decided to try and get more information even if it meant potentially giving some of his own.... and Ruby's.

     "Enchanted aetherium, I said," Sebastian replied and ran his tongue over his bottom front teeth as he worked on the cuff, "Have you heard of aetherium?"

     "Yeah... I've heard the word before."

     "The collar. It's not just bronze like the cuffs. It's actually lined with the aetherium. All the way through. Holds a stronger enchantment for more control."

     "How can you tell?" Sage leaned closer to look at her collar.

     "And POP!" Seb placed the cuff into the pile and stood up, his knees popping, "Move aside, kid. I got this."

     Sage hesitated but did as he was told. Getting the collar off of her would make Ruby so much more comfortable and happy. She could truly feel free.

     Sebastian flipped another lens down on his goggles and twisted his mouth around. He tilted his head back and looked down his nose at the collar. Ruby tilted her head to the side and tried to extend her neck for him to get a better view... that or she was really creeped out.

     Seb made a whistle through his teeth and jammed the narrow tool into a hidden seam in the metal. That strange blue glisten rolled across the surface in a grid pattern, but it did not pop off as the others did.

     "Hm. No pop," he muttered and removed the tool.

     "Does that mean you can't get it off?"

     "Oh, I can," Seb chirped confidently. He lifted his goggles to his forehead and moved around the side of the bed up to a small but cluttered shelf mounted to the wall. He scanned his finger along the book spines, "They just don't want me to."

     "Who? The Dwemer?"

     Seb finally located the book he was searching for and flipped it open, flicking pages as if he knew exactly where to look.

     "I don't understand what you are saying," Sage was getting tired of the topic jumping. Get to the point.

     "Ah!" Sebastian slammed his finger down on a page and leaned in to read rapidly.

     "WHO doesn't want us to take the collar off?" Sage probed.

     Seb lifted his head and handed the book to Sage before stepping around him and recalibrating his tool. He flipped his goggles back down and attempted to work on the collar again.

     "I'm not sure what I'm looking for here..." Sage skimmed over the page, "This is a book about Oblivion."

     "Daedra, my small woodland friend," Seb hummed, "Princes to be exact. Her red eye. You see that glint in her pupil? This girl has a window."

     "Window...?" Sage closed the book and turned back to Ruby who was still craning her neck to the side as Sebastian worked. Her red right eye had a strange iridescence all of a sudden. She began blinking and squinted it slightly as if it was bothering her, but overall she seemed calm.

     "Okay, wait a second..." Sage took a slight step back from them, "You need to be a bit more specific here. You haven't told me everything you know about this."

     "Neither have you, chum. You talk. I talk. We learn things. Don't you like to learn things?"

     "Are you saying her eye is some sort of Oblivion portal?"

     "No, gods, no. Not a door. Just a window. Peephole. A little tiny hole to see."

     "Are Daedra-"

     "Prince."

     "Daedric Princes?"

     "Just one," Sebastian quickly corrected him, "Only one can see at a time. It's a small window, remember."

     "C...can they see us right now?" Sage was getting quite uncomfortable.

     "Oh, yeah. They know we're here and that I'm tinkering," Seb smiled and waved at Ruby. She obliviously smiled and waved back.

     "Wait, is she like a puppet?" Sage wasn't sure whether to stop him, run, or just wait and see.

     Sebastian raspberried, "Nah, it's not that complex. Window. Peephole. Just watching."

     "Which Prince?"

     "I don't know. How could I know? Doesn't work like that. It's one way."

     "You seem to know a lot about this concept and I'm sorry, but I'm freaking out a little here. This doesn't seem safe..." Sage began pacing.

     "It's not like this daedra will just pop out of her face the momen- POP!"

     The collar made a crackling sound and the blue aura faded. Sebastian carefully bent it open enough to slip off of Ruby's throat and took the deactivated device into his hands like it was a precious treasure. Ruby inhaled deeply and touched her sore neck with her fingertips. The skin was just as damaged and red as her wrists and ankles.

     "Ahh..." she winced in pain, "Guama kutal..." her voice was small and scratchy but her eyes widened upon hearing it.

     Sage's anxiousness over the daedra suddenly vanished as he rushed over and quite literally shoved Sebastian out of the way.

     Seb grunted as he stumbled, clutching the brass collar, "Watch it! I've got a freaking priceless artifact here-"

     "Ruby!" Sage knelt before her and looked up into her face, "Ru-... you can speak... what's your name? Can you tell me your name?"

     "Uwi arca...?" She asked with a half smile.

     Sebastian suddenly dropped the collar and turned back around. "Say that again..." he shoved Sage back to get closer, "Say that- uh- uhm... Tukura n-... nahar?"

     Ruby perked up and clasped her hands together with joy. "Xa'tuor teruhar!" she cheered in a squeaky voice and began giggling.

     Seb staggered backward a little looking like he was about to faint. Sage suddenly realized that Sebastian just realized... that Ruby was a Falmer.

Chapter Text

     "This is impossible," Sebastian flipped his goggles up onto his forehead and leaned to look at Ruby's facial features, "You're fluent in Falmeri... How is that possible? Because it's not possible."

     Sage quickly took Ruby's hand and pulled her to her feet. He knew they needed to get out of there before the avid Dwemer scholar with the necklace of Falmer ears could investigate further.

     "Whoa, whoa, wait!" Seb quickly grabbed Ruby's other hand to stop them, "You knew she was Falmer. That's why you wanted my translations. The shackles- the shackles- the-"

     "Yes. No. I don't want to answer this. We need to leave."

     "I have to examine her! I have so many questions... I need blood samples! I- I need to run tests! She's like a genetic time capsule! Do you even know the odds of this!? I never thought... How could I have planned for-... Let me get my tools. I need- I need-"

     Sage suddenly lunged and grabbed Seb around the throat with his free hand causing him to release Ruby. The startled scholar gagged and desperately pulled at his wrist.

     "You will not lay a hand on her," Sage's voice was low with an insidious undertone.

     Seb's eyes widened with frustration and panic. He couldn't let Ruby- the impossible treasure, out of his sight. He had so many questions and tests to run. Sage shoved him back against the nightstand, knocking a bunch of tools to the floor with a clatter. The protective Bosmer curled his lip to display his sharpened teeth and glared at him with his icy eyes to drive the point home.

     Sebastian rubbed his throat still as he leaned on the nightstand looking a bit shaken, "You have no idea who you're threatening," he grumbled, though, in his shrill voice, it didn't come off as daunting as intended, "I could buy and sell you a thousand times over, chum."

     "I doubt that," Sage scoffed, "You obviously don't know who I am either. If you did, we'd be having a very different conversation right now. Information can also get you killed, 'chum'."

     Seb finally straightened his posture to try and look more confident as he 'dusted' off his robes. A half-smile crept across his face and he lifted his gaze past Sage toward the door and nodded.

     "He's right, you know," A deep female voice echoed from the hall.

     Sage turned to see a tall blonde Altmer holding the tapestry aside to enter the room. She was dressed in Thalmor robes making her entire presence even more threatening. She was the mark. Sage was sure of it. How perfect that she came to them.... but why did she come to them?

     "Right about what!?" Seb suddenly frowned. It was clear by his casual reaction to her entry that they knew one another.

     "This little ankle-biter is much more dangerous than he looks... and he's worth much more than his weight in gold," she had a very smooth way of pronouncing words that would seem soothing if she wasn't so intimidating to look at.

     "Explain! Now!" Seb hated not knowing things, "I pay you to survey and protect while I'm at this dilapidated excuse for a college. So that includes information on potential threats. So, spill it."

     "What are we at now? The international council has you listed at just under five hundred thousand, last I checked." The Thalmor stepped closer to Sage towering over him. He felt trapped. His grip on Ruby's hand tightened.

     "Five hundred thousand what?" Seb's tone changed to that of intrigue, "Quen, you're intimidating enough with the vague disquisition, for the love of Xrib, information please!"

     Quen reached down and with her long fingertips, lifted Sage's chin to examine his face, "The curse of the Oathbreakers." she smiled, "Ah, to change your form at will... I'd call that a blessing."

     "Are you saying he's worth five hundred thousand septims?" Seb began shuffling around looking for something.

     Sage felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. This Thalmor was a justiciar. She was most likely there to enforce the Talos ban on the Nords, but it was beginning to seem like she paid a bit more attention to other international crimes than a typical agent. She was also a bounty hunter...

     Quen's other hand brushed down Sage's hip and before he could react, she stepped back and held up a tiny vial. She opened the cork and sniffed it. "Poison? Now, what would a destruction mage need this for?" she asked.

     Sage suddenly lifted his hand, perhaps to conjure a spell but was instantly cracked over the back of the head by something large and metal. The sound of the impact echoed off the walls as he crumbled to the floor into a pile of books beside Ruby. She screamed and dropped to her knees beside him.

     "Was that entirely necessary?" Quen asked nodding to the large metal beam Sebastian was holding, "What is that anyway?"

     "This? It was a lever for a steam-powered door at my field lab. Some scavengers must have ripped it off because I found it laying by abandoned camp down river of Deep Folk-"

     "Don't care," Quen bent down to lift Sage's unconscious body off the floor, "Grab the girl."

     "With pleasure," Seb tossed the metal piece aside and stepped over to take Ruby by the arm.

~

     "The Beast" the mark's voice echoed in Sage's head as he started to come to, "The Broken-Hearted Butcher. The Lady Killer. The Heartless Hunter. The bounty of the 4th era... the Oathbreaker. You've collected some pretty epic titles for such a little elf."

     Sage groaned and opened his eyes. He was tied to a chair in a dark dungeon-like room. This had to be the Midden below the college. He'd only been down here once before, but judging by the smell of a burning forge, the Atronach forge to be specific, they had used the entrance under the steps in the Hall of Countenance.

     "Where's Ruby...?" Sage mumbled as his head began throbbing.

     "The girl? Don't worry about that. The Dwemer fanboy has taken interest in her. He likes to collect pretty and unique things. He'll take wonderful care of her."

     Sage felt his blood pressure rising. He began kicking trying to get loose. His head was spinning and with each movement, he grew more nauseous. Quen confidently paced around in front of him as she examined the poison vial again.

     "The other agents will be down soon. So we have some time to kill," she said, "I would like to hear your side of the story, Mr. Bluehollow. And don't get any funny ideas."

     "I don't know what you're talking about..."

     "Oh, please," Quen sighed, "I recognized you the moment you arrived in Winterhold. Growing a fancy set of horns and changing your hair color wasn't enough. Why violet? Are you trying to be noticed?  Tell me. What triggered it?"

     "Triggered what?" Sage growled with his teeth clenched. He was finding that he was having a hard time focusing.

     "The massacre. The night that you murdered sixteen civilians and four guards in Reaper's March... leading to the province-wide chase. What set you off?"

     Sage remained silent. He scanned the small room for anything that could help him out of this situation. There was nothing except the stone walls and a few empty crates in the far corner. His eyes drifted to the doorway. There was a faint glow just around the corner. He could see some shadows moving about. Someone else was down here. Probably Sebastian. Hopefully with Ruby.

     "Were you trying to send a message?" Quen continued to probe, "You removed her heart. How needlessly edgy."

     "RUBY!?" Sage shouted over her, "Ruby are you okay!?"

     Quen frowned, "Don't make me gag you. I'd really delight in hearing your sadistic tale."

     Sage listened for Ruby to reply but heard nothing. He huffed through his nose and glared daggers at the mark. Something was wrong. He was finding it impossible to conjure anything with his hands tied and the spinning in his head couldn't have been caused by being hit. Had she sedated him somehow?

     Quen was visibly disappointed, "How about this? If you tell me your side of the story, I'll make sure it gets out to the public and the families of your victims. Perhaps the law will show some mercy and have you beheaded rather than ship you back to Valenwood? Of course, you know better than I what they have waiting for you there."

     Sage's gaze drifted away from her. He knew better than to self-incriminate. There could still be a way out of this.

     "She broke your heart so you took hers," Quen's words drew his attention back, "The Bosmer girl in the hut. The male you killed in the room with her; you caught them laying together, didn't you? She broke your heart."

     Sage clenched his teeth so hard he felt one of them cracking. He began huffing and digging his fingers into the ropes.

     "She wasn't the first to hurt you, was she?" Quen smiled a little. She had done her research. She clearly got a kick out of interrogation through psychological torture. She was in the right line of work. "You're just a kid, Bluehollow. What do you know about love?"

     "Betrayal," he hissed through his teeth.

     "Did you know your other victims? Or did you just kill them out of blind rage? You could have wiped out the entire village but you seemed to zero in on only a few specific targets before moving on. Who were they to you? Was that your motive?"

     Sage closed his eyes tightly and began kicking again, twisting his hip to try and loosen the ropes. "I will rip your heart out through your nose and feed it to a skeever!!" he panted desperately, "What do YOU know about love? Look at you! You giant lumbering bitch! You manipulative cunt! No man would want you!"

     Quen knelt down in front of him smugly and placed her hand on his knee. He attempted to kick her but the ropes were too tight and his stamina was depleted.

     "Well, I'm sure my wife would be pleased to hear that," she squinted, "Though, you are one to talk. Apparently, the women in your past preferred others over you-"

     Sage began to wail and rock back and forth. Quen lifted her hand and smacked him across the face.

     "Get yourself together," she demanded, "All of Tamriel thinks of you as this terrifying heartless Beast. Do you really want them to know that you are just some heartbroken kid with girl issues?"

     "Sage au baila!" Ruby cried out as she sprinted into the room and leaped onto Quen's back. The relatively small Falmer was not a threat to the towering Altmer, but the surprise of the ambush threw Quen off balance sending her tumbling forward from her kneeling position onto her hands.

     "For fuck's sake, Rye!!" she shouted in anger, "Come get this-"

     Ruby suddenly bit down on Quen's ear as hard as she could, ultimately ripping off a small piece of her lobe. Sage's eyes widened with excitement. He'd never seen Ruby act out or do anything remotely violent.

     Quen was remarkably calm as she fought to shake the small elf off of her. Though, her rage was written all over her face.

     "Ruby! The vial!" Sage nodded his head to the poison bottle that had fallen from Quen's hand as it was rolling away, "Vial! Uh-... Babette? Alchemy! Potion!" One of those words had to make a connection for her.

     Ruby was struggling to hold on to the Thalmor's robes. She knew that if the mark got to her feet, she'd not be able to hold on anymore. Hearing Sage's call, Quen twisted around and reached for the vial. She had to know that it was important. Ruby noticed this.

     "Cripes, Quen...!" Sebastian moaned from the doorway, "That little brat bit me! I was just trying to-" he paused and squinted at the two females wrestling on the stone floor. 

     Quen glanced over at Seb, pausing just long enough for Ruby to lunge forward and grab the vial over her shoulder. "Get her off of me, you jackass!" the frustrated Thalmor snapped.

     Ruby popped the cork off of the tiny bottle with her thumb and splashed the contents onto the mark's wounded ear. Seb watched, standing as stiff as a rail not knowing what to do.

     Quen gasped in pain and grabbed her ear as the poison seeped into the bite. Ruby quickly crawled off of her and ducked beside Sage.

     Sebastian shuffled around in place looking as if he were about to run, "Did she bite you too?"

     Quen attempted to get to her feet but her vision rapidly began to go dark. With her last bit of strength, she stumbled toward Sebastian with her hands out like she wanted to choke him. He quickly ducked out of her reach and scurried back up the corridor, not unlike a rat.

     "Useless... waste of..." Quen gargled as she slowly lowered to the floor. Besides the blood in her hair, she almost looked like she was simply taking a nap.

     Ruby hesitated and watched before timidly standing up and turning to check on Sage.

     "Ruby..." he smiled weakly up at her, "That was... amazing."

     She leaned over him and began untying the ropes. Her smile returned and was the same kind of warmth as it had always been... though, with Quen's blood smeared across her lips. But somehow, that didn't change the genuine innocence she projected. 

     Once the last rope was removed, Sage quickly pulled Ruby into a hug. She saved him. She cared about him. Maybe she even loved him, he thought. There was no doubt in his mind that she was his girl now. Now and forever. No one, not even Cicero was going to take her from him. No one. NO ONE. 

     'Forever mine.'

>>> New character added to the Character Guide Book: Quen

Chapter Text

     I was thrown forward as something struck the back of my head. I caught myself on the desk suddenly remembering where I was. Dad was standing over me with that typical scowl on his face, holding a book up in a threatening manner.

     "Somewhere out there, there's a tree working very hard to replace the oxygen that you consume. I think you should go apologize to it!" he growled and smacked me over the head again, "And to me for wasting my time!"

     "Yes, sir! Sorry, sir..." I grumbled and cringed in pain.

     He dropped the book on the desk in front of me and curled his lip, "To be a Spinner, you will have to work! Study! Learn! Use your mind! Work your brain!"

     "Yes, sir."

     "A Spinner can't be lazy!"

     "...but don't they like... just sit in the woods and meditate all day? I mean, they literally don't do anything but talk about Y'ffre."

     Dad gave me a sharp glare, "You may be fundamentally advanced for your age, yet you choose to act like a fool. I didn't raise you to be disrespectful, Nall. You want to screw around and throw your future away, then go to the detention hut where I don't have to look at you."

     I hesitated. Getting up to leave would only infuriate him more, but staying meant further abuse. I hated my training. Every day, it was the same thing. Read and review. I loved learning the history of my people... but not when it was demanded of me. Dad wanted me to make him proud but there was really nothing I could ever do to please him. Ever since I was a baby, he was shoving his teaching upon me. He had made it clear many times that I was the one to ruin his ambitions of becoming a proper Spinner simply by being born... so in his mind, it was my responsibility to take his place, whether I wanted to or not.

     Becoming a Spinner was the highest honor a Bosmer could ever achieve and very few trained for it so I was the only one in my class for this reason... and also because my dad was an asshole. Spinners were the wisest and most influential members of a village and were highly respected priests and advisers to the most powerful of leaders. They spun the tales of the Great Storyteller Y'ffre and enforced the Green Pact. It's even been said that they have the ability to alter events in time with their stories and that only they could save the Oathbreakers who betrayed the Green Pact and were imprisoned in the primordial Ooze... 

     ...A bunch of fairy tales. I was only seven and I didn't believe any of it the way these 'historians' did.

     It was all a fear tactic to keep people loyal to their culture. A farce to build chauvinism. We are taught to believe that Bosmer were all once some shapeless ooze until our god Y'ffre came along and blessed us with permanent form; the bodies of mer. In exchange for his kindness, we are forbidden from eating, using, or harming any form of vegetation upon his blessed land known as the Green. The plants are sacred. Punishment for breaking the Green Pact meant eternal persecution, your soul would be damned and your body returned to the Ooze. Your name would be scrubbed from the Spinner's tale, forever to be forgotten as if you'd never existed. Some sort of dishonor, I guess...

     The other half of the Green Pact is that we are forbidden to shift. Shape-shifting is a trait our souls retained from our days as the shapeless Ooze and to shift would be disrespectful to Y'ffre's gift of solid form blah blah blah... The only time it is permitted without repercussion is during a rare ritual called the Wild Hunt. Now that's something I'd love to join in on. Only to be used in extreme times of war and at the end of an era, the Wild Hunt calls upon hundreds of Bosmer to join together. Literally. They shift into a massive horde of ever-changing beasts of terror, slaughtering and eating everything in their path until every enemy in their path is destroyed. Then, they turn on themselves. Not only is it pure carnage and chaos, but it always ends with only one remaining shifter who eats all of the others. He becomes a legendary beast of Nirn. A near immortal and feared creature of the land that can live on for centuries. Beasts from previous rituals have taken personal refuge in the wilds, peacefully living out their days as revered and respected guardians of the Green. Yet, we are told not to speak of it. Like we should be ashamed of our primal ways...

     Sure, we Valenwood Bosmer are different than the other mer. We eat strictly meat and leave nothing to waste. We fast before battle and eat the bodies of our enemies and our fallen comrades alike. We are cannibals and this is frowned upon by the rest of the world. Those who know not of our ways see us as merely savage tree elves with beautiful women and dangerous men... but those who know fear and ridicule us. Dad says that the Green Pact is a gift and a blessing, but all I see are lies and reasons to feel ashamed of my heritage.

     "Nall!" My dad's voice startled me, "Do you need a beating?"

     "No, sir!"

     "Then get your act together. If you're ever going to succeed in life, you need to learn to listen and take orders. No one likes a snot-nosed little brat who does whatever he wants."

     "Yes, sir."

     "Respect is the most important lesson you will ever learn."

     "Yes, sir."

     "Memorize chapters three through eight," he said tapping the book loudly with the tip of his fingernail, "Tomorrow you will recite them to me in your own words."

     "But that's like fifty pages!"

     "Are you questioning my instructions?"

     "...no, sir."

     "Good. Now go. You have magic lessons with Gherela at noon and the sun is high."

     "Yes, sir." I waited for him to exit the hut before standing from my desk. I placed the book in my satchel and slowly made my way outside.

~

     I could already see the other children gathering around the creek for magic training. Ms. Gherela was our teacher. She was still quite young as far as masters of destruction magic go and she was very beautiful. Many villagers referred to her as a prodigy of the magic arts. She could have gone to the Arcane University in Cyrodiil, but she chose to stay in Reaper's March to train and traveled through the various regions of Valenwood to teach children whose parents deemed 'gifted'. I was fortunately one of these children and had the honor of participating in her summer classes in Elden Root.

     I wanted Gherela to notice me. I wanted to impress her and stand out among her other students. I studied her techniques very closely and always tried to go above and beyond. She used ice magic, so I used ice magic. She minored in conjuring... so I began learning how to conjure. I allowed all of my other studies to fall to the side and I know my dad was noticing. I stayed up late practicing and building my magicka reserves, so I was always tired and falling asleep in history class. But it was all worth it. I was Gherela's best student and just to see her smile proudly at me when I'd flawlessly demonstrate what I'd learned... it was the best feeling ever.

     After classes, I would try to get some private time with her. I'd use the excuse that I just wanted to 'pick her brain' but really, just being in her presence made me feel special. I was just a kid, but I felt like I could have been in love. She had a boyfriend, though. Gereth. He traveled with her from village to village as she taught classes as if he had nothing else better to do. He was much older than her and very loud. Sometimes he'd interrupt our training just to see her but Ms. Gherela was too nice to tell him to screw off. I don't know what she ever saw in him. He was such a jerk and obviously didn't care about her or her passions.

     Today was no different. Just as class ended, that asshole decided to show up and I knew I wouldn't get my chance to train privately with Ms. Gherela. As the other students collected their books and began to leave, I could see Gereth walking up path. He was singing to himself and appeared to be stoned or drunk again. I quickly ran over to my teacher who was sitting in the grass in a preemptive attempt to steal her attention.

     "Ms. Gherela!" I called causing her to turn away from the approaching intruder, "I've been struggling a lot with an adept spell I've been training with. I was wondering if you could help me..."

     "Adept?" she chuckled softly, "Nall, you should focus on your apprentice spells before you attempt to move to something so advanced. You're only a child. There's no rush to greatness. The masters spend many years training with certain spells. Don't divide your attention."

     My eyes drifted up just as her boyfriend's shadow cast over us. It was tragically poetic. Ms. Gherela turned and smiled up at him.

     "Gereth! You're late today! Normally you arrive before the end of class."

     "School's boring. I didn't become an adult to listen to more lectures," he yawned.

     "Ms. Gherela's lectures are not boring," I interjected, "She's very intelligent and creative. Maybe if you'd listen to her every once in a while, you'd know this."

     "Excuse me, little dude?" his posture suddenly straightened up. He glanced at Ms. Gherela, "Did this kid just insult me?"

     "I'm sorry," I laughed, "Was that not obvious? I suppose that's another benefit of education: Knowing whether or not you are being insulted."

     Gereth glowered at me, "What's your problem, pipsqueak? You have a lot of nerve talking to an adult that way."

     "You're my problem. You don't deserve a girl like her. You ignore her until you want attention and you insult her intelligence! You're a joke!"

     "Nall!" Ms. Gherela suddenly stood up and moved between us, "What has gotten into you?"

     "Why do you put up with this jerk?" I protested, "You deserve so much better. You should be with someone just as smart as you! Someone who will treat you right and treasure you!"

     "Bro," Gereth laughed, "Are you referring to yourself? What are you, like five?"

     "I'm almost eight but I'm decades more mature that you. What are you? Like, a hundred? Go date a girl your own age!"

     "Boys, stop," Ms. Gherela held her hand up, "This is ridiculous-"

     "Shut it, babe" he interrupted her, "I'll take care of him."

     "How dare you talk to her that way!" The palms of my hands grew cold as I fought back the urge to cast upon him.

     Gereth pulled a dagger from his belt and pushed his girlfriend aside. He towered over me but I was not afraid. I knew he was a dunce and his combat skills were likely limited to chasing monkeys and killing rats.

     Ms. Gherela interjected, "I don't know what brought this on," she grabbed us both by the sleeves, "But it stops here. Nall, I will speak to your father about this unprovoked outburst."

     "Unprovoked? But he-"

     "Gereth put your blade away. He's just a little kid. He's not a threat to you," she slapped him on the arm. 

     The jerk hesitated, not taking his eyes off me until she nudged him again. Ms. Gherela gave me a disappointed look as she led him away. Gereth sheathed his weapon and seemed to instantly forget about me as he began telling her about his lazy and fruitless day.

     Crap. She said she was going to tell my dad about what I had said. I wasn't looking forward to the impending long lecture about respect, but he'd definitely be pissed that I was distracting myself with what he could call, "nonsense". It didn't take much to anger my father and I just didn't want to have to explain. Not that he'd listen anyway.

     I clenched my fists tightly as I watched them leave. It took every ounce of control in me not to just shoot an ice spike through Gereth's back. Ms. Gherela would never forgive me. I'd be lucky if she still had any respect left for me after all of this. Though I felt my respect for her fading if she truly thought that that sorry excuse for a Bosmer deserved her love.

~

     It was already late afternoon and I knew my mom was probably getting worried. I should have been home hours ago. She was very pregnant and bedridden, and it was my responsibility to prepare dinner. Though, ever since I could walk, I remember helping to care for her. My father told me that my birth had put her into a depression that she'd never been able to recover from. She was often ill and couldn't do much for herself. This was why dad blamed me for having to give up on his journey to become a Spinner. He was forced to quit and care for me and my mom full-time...

     He always expressed resentment about my existence, as if it was my fault for being born. I suppose sometimes I believed it and that guilt- along with his abuse- was what kept me on the path to continue his goal to become a respected Priest of the Green. In his anger, he taught me that fear equaled respect and that respect was 'the most important lesson' I'd ever learn.

     I was afraid to go home. I should have stayed quiet and thought of a better way to deal with Gereth. Maybe lure him away and challenge him to a fight without Gherela's knowledge. Perhaps I could have dug up some nasty rumors about him to tell her... or make up my own.

     I kicked the dirt and ranted to myself as I paced the jungle paths outside of the village and tried to cool down. It was just no use. I kept hearing his jerk-off voice in my head and seeing my teacher's disappointed face. She just didn't understand! What could I do to make her understand!?

     In frustration, I slammed my fist into a tree, finally releasing the magicka I had built up and had failed to release. Ice particles tore through the bark, exploding outward. The tree creaked and collapsed to the ground taking several smaller trees down with it. Birds and other small animals scattered. I gaped in horror as the sounds of the rustling branches calmed. A chill ran up my spine as I stared down at my shaking hand.

     Oh, no... No. NO. I harmed the Green... I destroyed a piece of Y'ffre's blessing out of anger. I closed my eyes and waited. This meant punishment. Severe punishment. Even with my skepticism, I still felt immense dread. It had been instilled in me my entire life. There was nothing my dad could ever say or do to equal the fear I felt in that moment. All of my lessons on the Green Pact ran through my head as I waited. My body held stiff.

     "...I'm sorry," I whispered knowing good and well that Y'ffre wouldn't forgive such an act of careless defiance.

     "This one forgives you," a voice purred from nearby. Another wave of dread flowed over me when I realized that someone had witnessed what I had done. My eyes shot open and I turned to see a Khajiit standing a few yards away.

     "I-... I didn't do anything," I lied, "I was apologizing to the Green for-" I racked my brain for a reason, "-for wasting the oxygen it works so hard to make..."

     The stranger smiled, "M'aiq believes you."

     "...you do?"

     "The little elf's secret is safe with this one."

     "...do you know what's going to happen?" I trembled.

     "M'aiq knows much, tells some. M'aiq knows many things others do not."

     I glanced back at the fallen tree. The ice shards had melted and only a soft wet glisten remained. We were told since birth what the punishment was for breaking the Green Pact, but I had never known anyone who'd ever claimed to witness it. The fear of not knowing how or when was building.

     "I'm in trouble," I mumbled and turned back at the stranger, "I don't know what to do..."

     "People always enjoy a good fable. M'aiq has yet to find one, though," he smiled.

     "What does that mean?"

     "What does this one mean? Hmm... Perhaps M'aiq should ponder this," he rubbed his whiskers as he studied the tree.

     "What's going to happen to me?"

     "Well, the Moon Priests have many strange rules and stories. But M'aiq thinks they make it up as they go along."

     "Moon Priests? What does that have to do with-"

     "M'aiq speaks the truth, except for when he doesn't. With you, always the truth."

     "You're not making any sense."

     "Wait and see. This one is not the lair," M'aiq turned and began walking away.

     "Wait! ...Wait? Wait for what?" I looked back at the tree. My head was swimming. As the minutes dragged on into hours, my anxiety subsided. It was getting dark and the words of that strange Khajiit continued to play through my mind over and over.

~

     I arrived back at the school hut early the next morning. I took a seat at my desk and looked around the empty room. I wished I had classmates to take the target off of my back every once in a while. My dad entered with his classic scowl stamped on his face. Had Ms. Gherela talked to him yet? He stepped up to my desk and glared down his nose at me.

     "Well?" he asked crossing his arms, "Did you do it?"

     "Do what?" I didn't want to self-incriminate. He could have been referring to anything but my mind kept going back to what had happened in the forest the night before. Still, nothing had come of it.

     "Did you read the tome I instructed you to?"

     "Oh... that..."

     "Is that a no?"

     "Yes, sir. I mean! No, sir. I mean... I forgot to read it, sir," I stammered.

     "You come home late with no explanation to your mother. Then your magicks teacher informs me of your disrespectful back-talk during her class-"

     "It was after class."

     Dad slapped me upside the head, "Don't interrupt me!"

     "Sorry, sir," I clenched my teeth.

     "And now you tell me that you slacked off on your studies just to spite me?"

     "I didn't do it on purpose-"

     "Excuses! How do you ever expect to be a great Spinner if you refuse to study!? We have this argument every day, Nall! It's called discipline! You have become a disgrace to not only our family but in the face of Y'ffre's blessing-"

     "It's all a lie."

     "...What did you say...?"

     "All of it. It's all fairy tales the elders use to scare us," I gripped the sides of my desk trying to contain my anger, "The rules and traditions. They are lies to keep us afraid... because fear equals respect and-"

     Dad hauled off and smacked me again, this time almost knocking me from my seat. I tensed up and dug my fingers into the sides of the desk so hard that I could feel my nails cracking.

     "Cursed child! Blasphemy!! How dare you speak so defiantly of the Great Storyteller! Do you wish to fall victim to the Ooze? Think of your mother!"

     I bit my lip and lifted my eyes to him, my disheveled hair hanging in my face, "You're afraid, aren't you dad?"

     "Of course, I'm afraid of damnation! And you'd be wise to be afraid as well!"

     "No... I mean are you afraid of me?"

     He paused with a sudden look of bewilderment on his face. His eyes widened. I couldn't tell if he was shocked by my words or so infuriated that he couldn't speak.

     "...Nall," Dad's voice was eerily calm as he took a step back, "What are you doing...? How... you shouldn't be doing this. They will kill you for this. Just stop... please, think of your mother-"

     I felt dizzy but exhilarated. The air around me grew hot and my body tingled. I could feel my skin painlessly tearing all over. My dad's face reflected a strange mix of terror and regret as he held eye contact with me. 

     Suddenly, sharp antlers ripped through my skull, and crude, twisted limbs made of branches and thorns tore from my body. I could hear my dad's screams as the vines wrapped around his neck and arms, aggressively pulling him to the ground. I wasn't sure what I was doing, but at that moment, I felt something change within me. I had inexplicably relinquished my form and had willingly embraced a natural desire that had been locked away within my soul. It felt as if I was waking up for the first time. My ancestral aura was stretching beyond the confines of my body. I was tapping into something wild. Something primal.

>>> New characters added to the Character Guide Book: Edrin and Ganwyn Bluehollow and Ms. Gherela

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     Eleven years later, rumors continued to circulate about what had happened to my father. I'm still not even sure. They found his body in pieces all over the school hut. He wasn't even recognizable apart from a tattoo they managed to identify. That day was all a blur. Many people claimed to see a mysterious creature exiting the hut and disappearing into the woods. Others allegedly saw a mass of claws and teeth similar to the beasts of the Wild Hunt. All I knew was that I broke the Green Pact... I had somehow managed to shapeshift. 

     I woke up naked in a clearing a few miles from home. My body ached and my heart raced upon seeing the massive amount of blood on my skin. My hands were like those of a hagraven; my fingers were long and tapered into jagged talons. Twisted branch-like antlers protruded from my head. With considerable effort, I managed to shift back to normal, but to this day, my skin still tingles when my heart rate increases. It was as if I had opened a spiritual door into my ancestral past and it remains ajar, reminding me of who I am... and who my people were. 

     I hadn't shifted since.

     After the 'inexplicable death' of my father, I felt deep guilt for my struggling mother. Only weeks after, she gave birth to my little sister and was barely able to get out of bed. Her depression was so severe, the elders stepped in to assist. I did everything I could to help take care of her and baby Nell. I learned how to cook and studied hunting and tracking in order to provide... I essentially stepped into my father's role to take care of my family. I had to grow up fast all while harboring the knowledge of what really happened.

     Mom often lamented about how my little sister would never know her father. As guilty as I should have felt, I knew she was better off. We all were. But there was no way I could ever explain that to anyone. Mom knew of the abuse but said nothing... not that she could have done anything about it, but the fact that she ignored it convinced me that she was a victim herself in many ways. She lived in a delusion, remembering my father through rose-colored lenses. 

     When Nell was about the age I was when our father died, I began to notice her growing interest in solving his murder. I think she could tell that it bothered me since I refused to humor her curiosity with conversation. She was a smart girl, and if she was anything like I was at that age, it was only a matter of time before she began to put the pieces together. I knew I had to distance myself from my family but I couldn't just leave my ill mother and young sister on their own. 

     I began teaching Nell how to cook and everything I knew about hunting and tracking to prepare her for caring for our mother without me. She took to it all with a startling level of focus and maturity. Nell had never been a child who enjoyed doing childish things. She was always quite serious about every task put before her so this gave me a sense of relief knowing that she'd be okay on her own.

     In the following year, I continued my education in the neighboring region of Reaper's March. Ms. Gherela taught extra classes there in the spring so it was an easy move on my part. Though, I didn't see my mom or sister very much after that. I would occasionally return to Elden Root to visit on holidays and cook for them... but the strange melancholy silence made it very awkward. I could tell by the look in Nell's eyes that she didn't trust me anymore.

     My magic skills became highly developed as I continued working with Ms. Gherela. Her advanced classes were more centered on specific spells. She told us how she had gone to the College of Winterhold for a summer and trained under Archmage Savos Eren. Someday, I wish to travel to Skyrim and become a student there myself. I've heard about the extensive library and I feel that I'd be more accepted there than in Cyrodiil. My people don't have the best history with the Imperials.

     "Did you hear?" my friend Gale said as he came to sit beside me on some crates outside of the old trading post, "Crissa and Nithor broke up."

     "I didn't even know they were dating," I mumbled, not really interested.

     "I'm not surprised. They dated for like, three weeks. Apparently, she has a thing for Khajiit and left him for some fur." Gale was the kind of guy who just loved gossip. At times you'd think he was one of the girls with how much he cared about the dating lives of others.

     "That's messed up."

     "You're telling me. I had my eye on her for a while. Guess that's never going to happen," he sighed.

     "Mrs. Gherela's running late again," I mumbled as I watched the other students standing around the hut and socializing to pass the time.

     "Husband issues probably. That guy's a piece of shit."

     "You should have seen the asshole she was dating before him," I laughed, "And the one before that... Eh. She's got bad taste. Vomit-worthy."

     "Well, good. Then maybe after she's done with him, she'll date me!"

     I scoffed and casually pulled down on my vest to pull out an amulet, "Look."

     Gale glanced over at it and jerked his head back, "Why do you have an amulet of Mara...Wha- are you askin' me to marry you, bro?"

     "In your dreams. Screw off. I'm gonna ask Ashe. We've been together for over a year and she practically lives with me as it is. I really want to make it official..."

     "...Eh. Nall, my man... are you sure? I mean, you guys haven't been spending much time together lately."

     "I know. She's been working at the stables a lot. But I'm hoping that once I propose she might take some time off. Honeymoon stuff."

     "Honeymoon stuff comes after the wedding."

     "Whatever. You know what I mean," I flipped the amulet around in my hand. The whole thing made me nervous. What if she said no? Ashe was always kind of distant emotionally, but I think she's just shy about opening up and often deflects romantically. 

     We met through a group of friends at the New Life Festival in Arenthia. She was vivacious and loud and full of vigor. She wasn't afraid to show off her body with the dancing she did. It was like she fed off of the attention and everyone couldn't get enough of her. Myself included. After midnight, when the festivities began to calm, she surprisingly began to show interest in me. Perhaps it was all of the jagga in our bellies, but it felt like our souls were meant to be together. We just... connected. It was definitely a night to remember. Why she chose me to take home that night, I'll never know, but I don't question it. I'd kill for that girl.

     All of the relationships I had prior to Ashe were emotionally and mentally taxing. It was like there was nothing I could ever do to keep a female's attention. They were constantly picking fights, ghosting, and cheating. It always seemed like they only wanted to be with pricks and assholes who controlled them and treated them like trash... jerks get all the girls and nice guys finish last, it seems. But not with Ashe... she smiled when I made her dinner. She didn't need me to tell her what she could and could not do. She respected me. And the sex was great.

     The students began organizing as Mrs. Gherela finally arrived. She appeared tired and her hair was disheveled. There was a notable bruise on her neck. "Sorry, sorry," she sighed sipping on a stamina potion, "Had a long night."

     "Were you attacked by a choke-thorn?" I asked snidely, knowing exactly why she was late... again.

     "Gather your things. We're training at Faldir's Folly today," she called and quickly turned to grab my arm and pull me aside, "What are you doing, Bluehollow?"

     "Why do you put up with that shit?" I asked not so quietly.

     "As always, it's none of your business. You need to stop butting into my life. You've been doing this since you were a child."

     "Excuse me for caring. You seem to have a knack for hooking up with abusive jerks and making excuses for them. What, do you think you can fix them? And then you go and marry one. Now what?"

     "As I said, it's none of your business," she hissed, glancing back at the other students as they made their way down the path.

     "Just say the word. I'll rough him up for you."

     "What?" her attention snapped back to me, "No! Don't! Don't get involved. You don't understand."

     "Of course, I'll never understand why you allow these guys to prey on you."

     Mrs. Gherela slapped me. Several of the students turned to look. She glowered and shook her head sternly. I was surprised by her physical outburst but I dared not show it. I simply glowered back.

     "You're just jealous," she said under her breath, "You've always been jealous."

     "Jealous of what!? An abusive prick like him?"

     "It's not what you think. You don't know everything, Nall."

     "What is it then? You enjoy being a victim? You like being hurt?"

     She shoved me in the chest causing me to stagger, "You're out of my class. I'm done with your intrusive questioning. I've put up with it long enough."

     "There!" I called to her as she dramatically turned to join the other students, "See how easy that was? Now if only you could tell your husband to fuck off as well! Maybe you'd be able to find an actual respectable guy!"

     "Maybe!" she called back while holding up her middle finger, "But I don't see any here, either!"

     I clenched my teeth and threw my staff on the ground. I could feel my ears burning. My fingers twitched with fury as my skin began to tingle.

     "Bro, that was harsh," Gale shook his head as he walked over, "You need to learn to keep your mouth shut, my guy. Why do you always try to rile people up?"

     I chewed my lip, rubbing my cheek with the back of my hand where she slapped me, "Because I like being hurt."

~

     The oil from the lamp was almost gone. I stared at the dying flame pondering what I should do. I'd been waiting up for Ashe to get home from the stables all night and had my proposal all planned out in my head. The longer I waited, the less enthusiastic I felt. This was no surprise. Ashe was never home on time. She'd been staying with me for several months and most nights she'd return from work at near daybreak. I guess I had my hopes up that she'd be home sooner tonight.

     I flipped the amulet around in my hands by the fading light and began planning an alternate way to go about this. Maybe I could surprise her at work, though, proposing to her while she's shoveling horse manure probably wouldn't be the most romantic thing. Perhaps I could talk to her boss and see if I could convince him to let her off early tomorrow.

     The flame finally flickered out. I heaved a heavy sigh and stood, dropping the amulet on the table. The disappointment weighed on me. I tried to remind myself that after we were married that things would be different. She'd be officially mine then and this sort of thing wouldn't happen anymore. Forever and always. Til death do us part.

     Just as I stood, I heard the door creak open. The light from the brazier outside framed Ashe's silhouette in the entryway.

     "Why are you standing there in the dark like a weirdo?" she asked closing the door behind her.

     "I was waiting up for you but the lantern burned out and I-"

     Ashe suddenly staggered forward and wrapped her arms around my shoulders. I couldn't see her face, but I could smell the jagga on her breath.

     "Mmmm... Nall... take me to bed," she hummed, nuzzling into my neck.

     "Ashe... I wanted to ask you something," the entire speech I had planned kind of fell apart. I raised my arm to reach for the amulet on the table in the dark but before my fingers brushed upon it, she lifted her head and began kissing me. It was quite awkward and sloppy but I did my best to correct her aim.

     "No questions," she mumbled between kisses, "No talking..." her hands drifted to my chest and she began pulling the clasps of my tunic open. I liked where this was going. It had been months since we fooled around. The amulet could wait. I carefully backed up toward the bed pulling her along before falling backward onto it, and her onto me. She started chewing my ear seductively as I eagerly reached down to loosen my pants. I had hardly gotten my belt off when I noticed that she had stopped moving. She was breathing loudly, but her body was like dead weight.

     "Ashe..." I mumbled, waiting patiently for a reply. Nothing. She had passed out. Typical. I sighed and rolled her off of me then fixed my belt. I frustratedly turned over onto my side. Try again tomorrow. Tomorrow would be better.

~

     "What, they have an open bar at the stables now?" Gale asked with a smirk.

     "I figured she went out with her friends to have a few drinks after work," I replied leaning back on the rocks. The sun felt great on my skin. Since I had been expelled from Mrs. Gherela's class, Gale had agreed to meet me just outside of the village at the rocky outcrop near the river. I didn't want to show my face to the other students yet.

     "Chicks," he scoffed, "Unpredictable and unreliable."

     "It's fine. I'm thinking of stopping by her work tonight and surprising her."

     "Oh, yeah?"

     "Yeah, she's always too tired by the time she gets home-"

     "Or too drunk," Gale chuckled.

     "She's got a difficult job."

     "Cleaning up horse shit is a 'difficult job'? A gross one, maybe. But I wouldn't classify it as difficult."

     "I honestly don't know all of what she does there, but it's enough to wear her out."

     "And drive her to drink. Maybe she's cheating on you. Nall, your girl's a mess, bro. I think you should set your sights elsewhere. Or Elsweyr. Hey, that's an idea. I heard the Bosmeri women who live there go topless year round!"

     "I'm not breaking up with Ashe just because she has a stressful job," I slid off of the rocks and began gathering up my things.

     "You're right," Gale leaned to look down at me, "You do like to be hurt."

~

     The stable master said that Ashe didn't work there anymore. She hadn't worked there in months. Months? We had been living together for months. Why hadn't she told me? Was she afraid I'd be angry? If anything I was confused. Why did she lie? Where did she go if she didn't go to work?

     I tucked the amulet back into my vest and began walking up the shadowy path through the village. I felt betrayed. What else wasn't she telling me? Okay, so she quit her job a few months ago. But where was she getting the money to drink every night? Were her friends supporting her? We shared a lot of mutual friends and none of them had said anything about this. Paranoia began to grow. I didn't want to be alone at that moment. I needed to talk to someone or my thoughts would drive me insane.

     I made my way to Gale's hut. He may have been a cocky jerk a lot of the time, but if anyone would listen to my problems, it was him. I braced myself for the 'I told you so' rant as I climbed the ramp to the door. It was ajar. I glanced down seeing his muddy boots on the step and his bow leaning against the wall. He was obviously home. I pushed the door open and stepped into the dimly lit hut.

     "Yo, Gale," I called casually as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, "I think something is up with Ashe. You were right."

     "Oh?" he replied from the other side of the room, "...she's cheating on you?"

     I lit the lamp beside the door and turned to see him sitting on the edge of his bed. He had his shirt off and looked like he had just woken up.

     "I-... I didn't assume that, no. I just-"

     Ashe sat up beside him holding the pelt blanket over her bare chest.

>>> New characters added to the Character Guide Book: Gale and Ashe

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     "How long..." I managed to utter as every muscle in my body tensed. Their lingering silence merely fueled my anger.

     "I warned you, bro." Gale finally replied in an eerily passive tone. His demeanor and posture suggested that he saw this confrontation coming and was well-prepared, and possibly eager. "You should have taken the hint to look elsewhere."

     I turned the question to Ashe, "How long have you been fucking him!?"

     "I was never yours, Nall..." she said quietly, avoiding eye contact, "I thought we had an understanding-"

     "Bullshit! You moved in with me! You tell people I'm your boyfriend! We slept together!"

     Gale scoffed, "Clearly that doesn't mean squat," he gestured to Ashe, "We've been sleeping together for months and I ain't confused. I knew what this was. Come on, Nall. You can't tell me that when you hooked up with her at the party you actually assumed she was wife-material."

     "So that gives you the right to just bang the girl I'm dating?" I huffed trying to wrap my head around their logic, "Did our friendship mean nothing to you?"

     My head was spinning and I felt like I was about to pass out as my blood pressure peaked. Though Ashe couldn't seem to find it in herself to look me in the eye, Gale refused to look away. It was like he was watching for the moment that I finally broke. This wasn't his first affair.

     "A girl won't respect a guy who doesn't respect himself, bro," he said in a low tone.

     "Don't you try to lecture me on respect, dickhead!" My voice was unrecognizable. 

     He held his hands up dismissively, "Yo, I'm not the cuck here. Just sayin'."

     My skin began to crawl as I sensed the ancestral door opening inside my soul once again. Buried memories of my father's murder began to flash in my mind as my body grew increasingly warm. Vine-like appendages painlessly broke through my skin and slithered down my arms.

     Gale's arrogant gaze began to falter, "...What are..." He sat up warily while trying to maintain an air of composure. "Nall, buddy, friend. What are you doing...?"

     I could hear my own disassociated laughter deep in my throat while my consciousness readjusted along with my form. I felt like I was going mad... the horrifying memories of my first shapeshift began to feel thrilling and provocative. I lurched forward and grabbed Gale around the throat, lifting him off the bed with an unexpected burst of strength, and swung him into the wall with very little effort. Ashe shrieked in terror, pulling the pelt around herself as she scrambled off the other side of the bed.

     I swung my other arm back pointing my tapered finger at her, "DON'T! Don't even think about leaving..."

     Ashe froze upon my words and slowly lowered back down onto the bed. I could see her chest heaving with every panicked breath. Turning my attention back to Gale, he clenched his teeth as he held firmly to my wrist trying to catch his breath.

     "What are you doing, dude," he choked while trying to speak calmly, "Look at you... something's wrong... your face..." his eyes widened as my skin continued to rip and burst while fluidly reshaping itself. A violet glow filled my field of vision. Gale flinched and released my arm as several thorns tore through my wrist.

     "This isn't right," he continued to plead breathlessly, "Come on, Nall... don't do this. Don't threaten your Oath for this. It's just pussy... y-you will have many more. You're a good-looking guy. You have a future... don't throw it away like this. Take a deep breath and step off. Take a walk. We can grab a drink and cool down like old times, right? We can all pretend this never happened. Please..."

     I tightened my grip on his throat. I was tired of hearing his voice. He gagged and began pulling at my tunic in desperation as the life drained from his face.

     "Nall... please. This was a mistake-" Gale managed to gurgle, "Have a heart..."

     And that was the moment, I finally snapped. I relinquished control and allowed my primal Bosmeri roots to take hold. What was once my twitching hand, replaced by a fist of jagged talons, burst into Gale's chest with little resistance, putting an end to his hopeless rambling. My clawed fingers slowly clenched down around the pulsating mass where his heart should have been. 

     My best friend... sleeping with my girlfriend... lying to my face every-single-day for months. My skin was on fire and I began twitching uncontrollably with a confusing blend of fury and elation. I pulled my claw from his chest and shoved his disfigured body into the nightstand, spilling a bowl of alchemy supplies and crystals to the floor. I felt nothing as I tossed the useless bloody organ down beside him.

     I turned my gaze to Ashe. She hadn't made a sound. She stared up at my shifting and quivering form in terror. As I approached the bed, I could see my unfamiliar shadow cast over her. I smiled subtly, my teeth becoming sharp and long, tearing through my lips. I managed to slow my heart rate just enough to control the pace of transformation. Sharp horns split my skull and extended back slowly as they grew. Disjointed arm-like appendages rose from my shoulder blades, cracking and popping as they shifted in an attempt to mimic wings. I was neither mer nor creature... I was rage incarnate.

     "Nall..." she finally said with a shaky voice, "Why are you doing this?"

     "WHY!?" I roared at her, my voice that of a riled beast, "YOU ASK ME WHY?"

     "...I'm sorry."

     "AFTER ALL I'VE DONE FOR YOU! AND THIS? THIS IS WHAT YOU DO!? YOU FUCKING SLEEP WITH MY BEST FRIEND? I THOUGHT YOU LOVED ME..."

     She took a deep breath and cautiously moved forward on the bed. I could tell by her sporadic nervous glimpses up to my eyes that she was attempting to prove something to try and save her pathetic self.

     "You... really wanted to marry me?" she asked, forcing an uncomfortable smile as she reached her hand out, hesitating to touch my distorted face. Though she tried to appear unfazed, I could see the fear in her eyes. 

     Perhaps she wanted me to believe that she could see the broken mer beneath the beast she had created. Maybe she thought that she could weaken my rage with some gentle understanding... Whatever she was thinking, the terror she felt became the overdue respect she now offered.

     "I-I'm sorry, Nall..."

     "WHAT WAS LEFT OF NALL IS DEAD."

     Ashe finally rested her hand on my face. I could feel her shaking yet she continued to lean in.

     "I'm afraid for you," she whispered, "The Green Pact... You broke the oath."

     I scoffed and curled my lip to display my jagged teeth, "AND YOU BROKE MY HEART, LOVE." I violently grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand away.

     Startled, she leaned back. I could tell she was rightfully disturbed by my appearance as she struggled to keep eye contact with me. I tightened my grip. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, "Nall. You don't have to do this. There's still time."

     I chuckled and glanced back down at Gale's mutilated corpse laying among the scattered debris.

     Ashe opened her eyes again, "We-... we can run away together. Just you and me. No one would ever know. We could go North where no one knows us. Live off the land in privacy. We could get married... raise a family. Just-... just you and I. I'm all yours-"

     I turned my gaze back to her and nodded passively before placing my free hand over her chest.

     "I KNOW..." I grunted lightly. 

     A soft blue glow flowed over her as I cast a soul trap spell. My hand tapered into a long talon and I thrust it through her ribs. Her body convulsed before falling limp. I slowly removed my fist with her heart buried deep within my palm. There was a loud crackling sound followed by a flash of light... and everything fell still.

     I cracked my neck and shoved her body aside before stepping over to Gale once more. I tossed the bloody mass that was Ashe's heart to the floor beside him and leaned to retrieve the freshly-filled black soul gem from the scattered debris.

     Forever mine.

~

     I knew it was over. There was no going back now. The adrenaline, thrill, and fear from the murders fueled the shift and I struggled to return to my natural form. With every movement I made, another part of me shifted on its own. 

     I read about the Wild Hunt a lot growing up. I used to fantasize about the privilege of initiating it with the other shamen and being the 'last mer standing'. To attain the title of the Legendary Beast... and immortal being respected and feared by all who encountered it- 

     But now I was afraid. I was losing control again. The history books I had read well documented the mass chaos of the Wild Hunt but none had described the process of an individual shapeshifting on their own. The very thought of doing so was condemned. We do not speak of the Oathbreakers... for they have turned their back on the blessings of Y'ffre, the Great Storyteller who gave us solid form. None of my teachings had prepared me for this... but I did know what the punishment was for being an Oathbreaker. Any remaining fear of divine judgment was minimal to my dread of what my people would do if they caught me. The dread quickly overrode my anger. I wasn't thinking straight. I had to run. I couldn't stay there.

    'Focus. Slow down and focus on your movements,' I thought as I dragged myself outside, 'You can control this. Calm down and get out of the village...'

     An arrow struck me, embedding into my shoulder. I glanced down to see my skin wrapping around it, snapping it in half, and replacing the wound with a small branch.

     "What is it!?" someone shouted from the darkened path at the base of the hut. I lifted my panicked eyes to see several villagers gathering to see what the commotion was. They must have heard Ashe's scream when I attacked Gale.

     "Shifter!" a female voice cried. All of the frightened stares immediately turned to anger. Others quickly joined the mob. I... I was a monster.

     As another arrow flew into my stomach, I began advancing on the growing crowd. I recognized many of the horrified and furious faces. Neighbors, friends, former classmates... Mrs. Ghelera and her husband. I turned my attention to him, finding a new purpose in my rage. People started backing away, yet more arrows flew. I was impenetrable. A few more slow steps as I focused on my form, shifting my face through various shapes of animals and beasts in an attempt to keep my identity concealed.

     I was suddenly struck with an ice spike through the chest. I staggered backward, taking a moment to regain my balance.

     "Return to the Ooze, Oathbreaker!" Mrs. Gherela shouted, "May Y'ffre have no mercy upon you!"

     "Scrub their name!" Another called out, "Remove them from Y'ffre's story! Banish their soul! "

     They didn't know who I was... but it was true. Nall was already dead. I would never be known by that name again. I suddenly felt an overwhelming surge of power with the realization that I was immune to everything being thrown at me. Not only was my identity hidden under my shifting form, but their attacks seemed to do no damage and were merely absorbed.

     Mrs. Gherela's husband grabbed her arm and pulled her aside before raising his bow. Before he could nock the arrow I rushed him. My claw smashed through his body so hard that most of his chest cavity blew out his back and onto the villagers behind him. There was a short moment of silence as everyone tried to rationalize what they had just witnessed. I also hesitated, drawing my arm back to look at the splattered mass that I assumed to be his heart in my palm. Mrs. Gherela's screams brought my mind back to the moment.

     Pain. I began to feel pain as dozens of arrows shot into my flesh from all sides. The village guards had shown up. They shouted at the residents to get back and evacuate the area. Someone hit me with a fireball. 

     Fight or flight.

     "Nall!" I heard that name again. It was Mrs. Gherela. Tears stained her face. How did she know it was me- ...him? How did she recognize-

     "Nall, please! Why are you doing this!?"

     That question again. Why? It was no longer about the betrayal. It was about the lust. The fear and hatred in all of their eyes. That burning wrath they felt toward me. I earned that. It was mine.

     I swung my claw back and violently knocked her to the ground. Arrows and spells continued to pummel me as I stood over her.

     "Kill me, then!" she cried, "At least I'll die with the knowledge that I did my best!" she panted aggressively through her tears as she glared up at me, "You are better than this, Nall. I always saw the potential in you... but not this. Never this..."

     "I wish things had worked out better for you," I managed to utter in a voice I could no longer recognize as I raised my talon over her.

Chapter Text

   I lost count as my consciousness dipped in and out. At least a dozen. All dead; hearts violently removed or mutilated. Perhaps I was leaving a calling card of sorts. They may not know my name... but they'll remember what I did. Several villages ran red from Reaper's March into Northern Elsweyr. It all felt like an endless dream. I was like a wave of violence taking everything down that got in my way. I often found myself actively searching for victims like an addiction. Every new kill seemed to rejuvenate the shifting cycle... like feeding an insatiable ancient hunger, several millennia in the making.

     It wasn't until I was deep into the Cyrodiilic province that my focus began to return. The sun was high as I waded through open grass fields, rapidly becoming more aware of my surroundings. I refused to immediately acknowledge what I had done. The psychological hangover was too much to bear at that moment. 

     I could feel my shape weakening and folding in upon itself. I needed to use my last bit of strength to find shelter and rest so I could try to regain what I could of my initial form. I knew that if I was seen, in whatever distorted state my body retained, naked and covered in dried blood, I would be attacked... and I no longer had the stamina to fight back.

     Avoiding the main roads, I eventually came upon a dilapidated fishing hut. It looked uninhabitable due to weather damage, but it would be the perfect place to rest. Inside was a collapsed bed with a tattered blanket strewn over it. It was rough and covered in hay and burrs, but it would do to cover myself with for the time being... I was already missing the warmth of my homeland.

     I rummaged around the small shack looking for anything to use or eat. In a rotted-out drawer in the corner, I found a broken shard from an old shaving mirror.  Timidly, I lifted it to look at my reflection. While my face was once again recognizable, I noticed that something was odd about the pigment of my hair. It now retained a deep violet hue identical to the glow that had filled my vision during the frenzy. It was very bold and unnatural and would surely draw unwanted attention. Though, perhaps that could be in my favor. Why would a fugitive aim to stand out?

     Lifting the mirror shard higher, I saw the thick set of crescent-shaped horns protruding from my head. I ran my fingers over them and flinched at the tenderness from the damaged skin around them. They didn't appear to be as long or threatening as they had felt days before... but it was becoming clear to me that they were there to stay. At least, until I triggered another shift and figured out how to remove them. 

     Fortunately, it wasn't at all unheard of for a Bosmer to have horns or antlers. My mother and sister both shared such a trait, and ironically it is simply due to our ancestral roots. A residual reminder of when our people were once one with the wilds. So, this could also be a good thing, as Nall wasn't known to have them.

     I took a seat on the floor beside the broken bed and wrapped up in the blanket for warmth as night crept in. As I began to organize my next move, I lifted the shard of mirror and began cutting bits of my hair around my new horns in an attempt to further alter my appearance. 

     All I knew then was that I needed to keep heading north. I needed to get as far from Valenwood as possible. Far from anyone who ever knew me. Far from any Bosmer who may learn of my record. I needed to get to Skyrim. I didn't know much of the region other than it was fucking cold, ruled by racist humans, and nearly devoid of my kind. Bosmer were said to be a rare sight that far north. Like Argonians, the climate just didn't agree with our bodies. At least the Khajiit had fur and a propensity for travel. 

     Mrs. Gherela often spoke of the College of Winterhold where she spent some summers studying magic. As a child, I vowed to train there to make her proud... but over the years, the dream faded along with many of my ambitions. But perhaps this would be how I could start over. Something familiar in an unfamiliar place. I closed my eyes and began to run scenarios of how I'd gain entry without creating any suspicion. As an advanced student of magic, it shouldn't be too difficult to enroll based on my talent alone.

     Uncertain of how long I'd slept, I made sure to set off again under the protection of darkness. The blanket was enough to keep me warm, but the further north I traveled, the more I set my focus on locating some proper clothing. I saw several opportunities to kill and take a victim's attire, but something gave me pause, not wanting to leave more clues as to where I was heading.

~

     Crossing over into Skyrim was easier than expected. There were Imperial roadblocks along the border, but they clearly were not concerned with patrolling the treetops. I had never been to this province before. The trees were not like any I had ever seen in Valenwood and the woods were dark and very cold. 

     The blanket just wasn't enough anymore and I was bound to lose some toes to frostbite if I didn't find an alternate option fast. I began to follow a path along a robust river, following road signs, hoping to end up in a village where I could seek temporary help, or at the very least, steal a pair of boots.

     Not far from the border, I caught a familiar scent in the air, reminding me that I hadn't eaten in days. The smell was enticing; momentarily distracting me from the cold. My investigation led me off the path through some shrubbery where I discovered the remains of a massacre. Several bodies lay around the entrance to a strange crypt-like hideaway. Soldiers and cultists, it looked like. There must have been some kind of altercation between these two forces recently. The soldiers appeared to be Imperial in origin while the cultists- the Dark Brotherhood. I recognized the black handprint on their robes. I remembered reading about them once. Everyone seemed convinced that they had been all but wiped out over a decade ago. Well, if they weren't before... they were now.

     My stomach growled. Luck was on my side with this offering. The cold climate had slowed decomposition and being so close to a village, animals hadn't completely cleared the corpses. A small cooking fire would help prepare the aged meat. I would have praised Y'ffre, but that just seemed silly at this point.

     "...Thank you, Sithis," I said quietly and knelt down beside one of the cultists and began stripping him of his robes and ultimately his flesh...

     After filling my stomach with the much-needed meal, I carefully inspected the set of robes before trying them on. Of course, it was too big and the pants dragged, but it helped fend off the cold. Amused, I examined the blood stains on the cloak. Was the blood from the victim? From my feast? From my victims? From the victims victims? 

     I knew I needed to be careful. Sure, no one knew who I was here, and perhaps my altered appearance was enough to throw off any authority who might have any kind of description of my former self... but I still needed to keep a low profile until I could find a place to hide out safely for this to all blow over.

     I rested for an hour before continuing to make my way north again. I followed the main road up past Whiterun keeping my eyes open for patrolling guards and flanking off of the path before they noticed me. The further north I traveled, the more snow I saw. This gave me much hope for finding the college. 

     Early the next morning, I reached a town on the northern shore of the province. I decided that it was time to ask for directions. I knew that Winterhold was located along the coast... just not where exactly. I stopped just outside of the town to survey the area. It wasn't going to be easy to find someone to ask without arousing suspicion with how I was dressed, dried blood and all. I needed to formulate a plan. 

     "...Initiate?" a woman called with confusion in her voice.

     I nearly jumped out of my skin. I turned to see two people walking up the path from the south. The woman was dressed in tight form-fitting leather armor and she was apparently very proud of her robust cleavage, and rightfully so. Her hair was a strange shade of blue and her lips a luscious red. She was quite the spectacle. As she neared, she squinted her emerald green eyes at me... green... eyes as green as Ashe's... 

     "Oh, yes! Listener!" piped her male companion, "I believe he's a new recruit! He's wearing the shrouded robes!" He was an Imperial of small stature and oddly dressed as a ragged merryman. What in Oblivion? Was it the Jester Festival already?

     The woman frowned, "Nazir didn't mention anyone new passing the orientation..."

     "Cicero thinks his first contract was quite successful!" the jester pointed to the blood on my robes, "Excellent work, Dark Brother!"

     "What's your name, kid?" the woman asked, crossing her arms as they came to a stop before me, "Seems kind of careless to be walking around in broad daylight covered in your victim's blood. Are you trying to be caught? ... and what's with the hair?"

     "I should ask you the same," I replied, meeting her curious gaze, hoping to throw her off her rapid questioning.

     "Wha-... That's none of your business. Who are you?" she hissed, "You didn't answer my question. What is your name, elf?"

     Name? Foolishly, with my eagerness to find the college, I hadn't thought of one yet. I could no longer go by Nall, of course. But when confronted while trying to remain inconspicuous, my mind suddenly went blank. A name... Gale? No... I wanted to leave my past behind. Clean slate. Cut ties. I didn't want anything connecting me to Nall. I needed to cleanse my identity-

     "I- ...Sage."

     "Sage? Sage what?" she squinted, "As in the plant? Or are you some kind of scholar? Kind of young to be a sage. Shit, you could be a hundred for all I know. Elves and their damn eternal youth," she shook her head as if trying to refocus her thoughts, "I don't remember that name on the list of initiates."

     "I'm not an initiate," I replied with confidence, "I killed your initiate. He was a joke," I gestured to the blood on the robe, "It's not a surprise the Dark Brotherhood is failing with recruits like that hindering your ranks."

     Both of their eyes widened. A smile curled on the corner of the jester's mouth.

     "Impressive! Oh, I like that! Cicero likes that, indeed!" he said in a sing-song way, "Listener! This is what we are looking for!"

     The woman looked me over a bit before relaxing the scowl on her face, "Alright. You have two options, kid. Either I have Cicero here gut you like a fish for killing one of our novice members and unceremoniously donning our sacred attire... or you take the initiate's place and swear your loyalty to Sithis through a binding blood ritual initiation."

     I wasn't sure exactly what I was doing but I knew that if I played my cards right... I could use this opportunity as a way to hide out until the heat was off. The Dark Brotherhood practiced under shadow and secret. They were known for being unknown and the fact that this little cult was thought to be extinct was a bonus. With them, I could be nearly invisible while at the same time protected from the law. I just had to keep my head down and obey orders for the time being. 

     "Die or be initiated? Fascinating proposition. I suppose I have little choice then, huh?" I smirked and bowed deeply, "I pray I have much to offer the Brotherhood in way of my skills. I look forward to proving myself. It will be an honor. Hail Sithis..."

     Yes, ma'am. No, ma'am Anything you say, ma'am. This was my chance to start over. I was Sage now and all I had to do was just keep quiet and blend in... I had claimed sanctuary under the protection of Sithis.

     May the bridges I burn light my way.

>>>BONUS! Optional 2-part backstory: "Heart of the Matter".<<<

See everything from Gale's perspective and learn a truth that Sage will never know.

Chapter Text

     In Oblivion, time is indefinite. One could spend only a few hours in a Daedric sphere while years flow by on Nirn. One may also live a lifetime beyond the mortal world just to return with only a second passed. This very fact was on one of the minds of two Daedric Princes as they began contemplating a plan on how to manipulate the mortals for a bit of entertainment... and revenge.

     Prince Sheogorath, the Daedric Prince of Madness, was predictably unpredictable. His motives in his dealings were never clear. But one thing was: he gained massive amounts of enjoyment from the process of driving mortals insane. Sheogorath's intentions were as volatile as he was dangerous.

     The elegantly dressed prince poured himself a glass of wine while picking bits of cheese from his teeth with a toothpick.

     "Refill, my dear?" he asked the hooded woman seated across from him. She shook her head. 

      Together they sat at a fancy dining table decorated with various plates of breads, fruits, and cheeses. It sat atop a grassy hill overlooking an expansive plane of giant radiant mushrooms and unruly trees with spiraling branches. This was Mania, one-half of Sheogorath's sphere of Oblivion. The bold colors and calm atmosphere could fool anyone into believing it was actually a pleasant place to visit.

     "The blade has been delivered," the woman spoke quietly as she rolled a small red orb around in her palm, "You were right. He is the perfect specimen. He took to it so easily."

    "Ah, yes," Sheogorath placed the wine bottle on the table, "He was one of my favorites. His descent was slow and intricate. Layers upon layers of trauma intertwining... like a work of art. My masterpiece."

     "So you're trying to take him back?" the woman smiled faintly, her glowing red eyes flickering within the shadows of her hood.

     "Cicero? Bah, no. He's past his prime. Well done, overcooked. I'm bored," he moaned and stabbed a piece of cheese with the toothpick. It released a tiny scream.

     "Then why have you requested my assistance?"

     "That's just it, my dear Mephala," his tone brightened along with his smile, "I'm in the market for a new plaything. I want to start from scratch. From the bottom up! Bottoms up!" he lifted the wine bottle to take a swig.

     "Beyond your request of my Ebony Blade, how am I part of this?" she asked glancing down at the orb between her long tapered fingers.

     "Ah, you see," Sheo popped his lips, "We can both benefit from this bit o' discord. I figured you might want in on my little endeavor," he explained and pointed to the orb, "You've been watching, correct?"

     "With a passion..."

     "Great! Then you know that 'Busty Blue', the booby one with the dragon soul, is rearin' to pop one out. Coincidentally, the child was sired by my previous artistic endeavor. Both parents are under the shadow of Sithis... so I've made a deal with the devil."

     Mephala lifted her gaze to him. Though her expression was blank, there was a hint of confusion in her stare.

     Sheogorath chuckled, "First thing first! Sithis has already claimed rights to this child's soul. Being born to his Listener and within his Brotherhood blah blah blah. Something about some binding loyalty nonsense," he yawned, "But I have a bargaining chip."

     "I'm still not sure where I come in... but I'm listening."

     "Okay, okay, get this," Sheogorath cleared his throat and leaned his elbows on the table like a gossiping old maid, "This child's soul is owed to the Void to establish control over the powerful Dragonborn and seal her alliance yadda yadda. Not unlike the Night Mother sacrificing her own children to prove devotion to their silly little cult. Same energy, right?

    The Dragonborn's vessel couldn't be claimed for the Night Mother's resurrection due to this unforeseen pregnancy. It just complicated things... Taking the child's soul binds the Dragonborn to the Brotherhood; that's all Sithis wants. None of that matters to me. Now, I, the magnificent mad god- I want the actual child herself-"

     "Female?"

     "So I've heard," Sheogorath waved the air as if to move past that subject, "Irrelevant. Boxers or briefs. Why just kill the child when she can be of use, soul or not? So I made a deal with the Wrath, AKA Sithis' current flesh puppet, to allow me to take the souless child- alive- in my own little mad experiment. Call it recycling, if you will. So Sithis still gets claim to her soul and just to sweeten the deal, every single soul she reaps as well. No Blade of Woe nor contract required."

     "Clever, but what's the point with all this?" Mephala leaned back in her seat.

     "I'm going to make a crazy little killing machine, my lady. A toy to raise through the ranks of madness. I'm starting from scratch but with many tools already at my disposal. Daughter of the Dragonborn... tethered to the Void... genetically predisposed to snap!" Sheo aggressively snapped his fingers, "Then, for a little extra entertainment,  I'll ship her back to the Night Mother and we can watch the show!" He gestured to the orb.

     Mephala's eyes lit up, literally. Her posture straightened and she leaned forward onto the table showing interest.

     "I see... yet, how will you get this child from its mother alive? As you've embellished, she is the Dragonborn. She's also quite flighty, I've noticed. It's unlikely she will simply hand her baby over to the Brotherhood to be sacrificed, let alone ship it off to the Isles with a wave and a kiss. This could prove difficult."

     "And that's where you come in, my dear!" Sheogorath took a moment to sip his wine to build suspense.

     Mephala waited and tapped her long nails on the table.

     "S'good stuff," he dabbed his lips with a napkin, "You sure you don't want some?"

     "Get on with it, funny man."

     "Your blade. That long black one my minion now holds per my request. It drives a man insane with lust for betrayal. Very nice artifact, I must say."

     "Thank you."

     "Cicero will 'sacrifice' the child himself."

     "Though he's the father."

     "If he does choose fatherhood over Brotherhood, your whispering sword will change his mind. He has barely recovered from his unfortunate return to sanity thanks to that darling little empath. His mental disposition is shaky at best. It shouldn't take much to shove him off the edge once again when the time is right. I'm honestly just waiting for that lovely fool to massacre his entire Sanctuary. What do they call that delightful practice again?"

     "Purification," Mephala replied.

     "Silly little cult. They have been a mess since day one."

     "The Night Mother's quite aware of all of this deal, I'm sure. Being the bride of Sithis and all. But in regard to the sword, she's already a problem."

     "A problem?" Sheogorath popped a piece of cheese into his mouth.

     "She's stopped him from using it on several occasions. When he was mad under your reign, he was mad about the Brotherhood. But the influence of the blade holds no loyalties. The Night Mother knows this and clearly sees it as a threat to her Uprising."

     "Interesting! Intriguing! Illuminating! And other words that begin with the letter I!" Sheo clapped his hands joyfully, "The dark housewife will not be a problem. Focus on having Cicero use that blade as much as possible. I'll deal with the Mother issues... rightfully better than he did. Ha!"

     Mephala raised a brow.

     "What? Have you not been watching?" Sheogorath pointed to the orb again, "I know you always have your nose in that thing. Carrot top is obsessed with the wife of Sithis. 'Mother'. Utterly-"

     "That's it," she interrupted, "He's been struggling with his devotion. The little snow elf empath on the other side of this window is in love with him and follows him everywhere she can. I've seen him break down. A lot."

     "Yeah, he's quite the crybaby. The emotional ones are the easiest to manipulate."

     "I would love to simply turn him against his Mother Dearest."

     "Oh?"

     "Break him just enough to become the wrench in the works of the Night Mother's Uprising. Stir the pot. You will get your project child and I'll get my revenge for the treacherous deeds the Brotherhood has pulled on my Morag Tong over the eras. Let's make beautiful chaos together..."

     Mephala fell silent and lifted the orb to stare into it. Sheogorath smiled and stroked his peppery-white beard. He knew he could coax Mephala into doing his dirty work. It wasn't the first time he'd manipulated another Deadric Prince in his favor. She also enjoyed toying with mortals for entertainment and reveling in the tragedy of the outcomes. That was literally her thing.

     Convincing her this plan was all her idea was step one. Now it was just a matter of having the rest of the pawns move in the right direction. Sheogorath's little project was already off to an excellent start.

----------------------

>>> New character added to the Character Guide Book: Mephala

Chapter Text

    The halls of the Dawnstar Sanctuary filled with Cicero's winded grunts and groans as he struggled to drag in the unconscious orc he was tasked with abducting. Sure, the horse did all the work carrying her from Markarth but hauling her from the entrance to the torture room was threatening to break his back.

     "How can someone be this much heavier than they look!?" he panted, dropping her body at the top of the steps.

     Mother stepped past and patted him on the shoulder without saying a word. Even her casual gestures felt motherly and, in that, rewarding to him. She made her way down to the main chamber to check in with the others who had arrived long before them. The distance traveled and Cicero's little freak-out at the tavern had caused their mission to take longer than it should have.

     Sage sprinted up the stairs to assist. He may have been a small wood elf, but he always seemed eager to help his superiors, likely in an attempt to gain respect and recognition. 

     "Nice blade," Sage said eyeing the sword on Cicero's back as he took the orc's legs, "Did you buy that in Markarth?"

     "Something like that," he replied, catching his breath before lifting her by the shoulders. The two heaved her down the steps and across the main hall into the torture chamber.

    The other three targets were already chained up to the walls and still unconscious. Babette stood over a long table placed in the center of the room. It had various potion bottles and vials on it along with a bowl of five black soul gems. Everything was arranged in such a way as to suggest that a body would soon be the centerpiece. She turned when she heard the exasperated grunts of her Dark Brothers and pointed to a set of shackles on the wall.

     "Hook her up there, please," she instructed in a tired tone.

     Cicero took a deep breath and nodded to Sage to drop the orc's legs. He leaned his back on the wall for support as he continued to hold her up under the arms. Sage took her wrists and began clamping them onto the rusty cuffs attached to the wall. Once secured, Cicero released his grip and slipped away, placing his hand on his aching lower back. When did he get so old?

     "How are the others still asleep?" Sage asked, examining the other hanging targets like some sort of hostage art exhibit., "I thought the poison only worked for a day?"

     "More poison," Babette rolled her eyes and yawned as she continued to arrange things on the table for the upcoming ritual.

     "You should probably get some sleep," he said glancing back at her.

     "She got plenty," Nazir's voice chuckled from the doorway.

     Babette groaned. She was not willing to admit failure so she decided to not say anything at all. Nazir entered with his arms full of worn leather armors and tossed them in the corner.

     "What are those?" Cicero walked over to see.

     "The Ancient Blood will need proper armor," Nazir explained, "The Wrath had some initiates collect these from other sanctuaries. Not many undamaged sets left, but these will do for now," He nodded to the supplies on the table, "and I'm assuming the black soul gems are via the Void."

     "Wait, the Wrath is still here? I thought he was just sent to deliver the message of the Uprising?"

     Babette shrugged, "Apparently, he's also tasked with performing the soul transfer himself to assure no screw-ups. Sithis clearly doesn't trust us," she scoffed, "He retrieved the ash of the Night Mother's children from Bravil for the ritual."

     "Bravil... but the crypt was desecrated. Garnag, my trusted Cheydinhal Brother, lost his eye recovering the Night Mother's coffin during the riots," Cicero said as he knelt down to dig through the armor.

     "Oh, it was," Nazir continued, "But once the city put itself back together, the tomb was sealed up again. Their bones were left undisturbed."

     Cicero's shoulders sank as he lifted a piece of worn Dark Brotherhood armor from his old Sanctuary. It was in decent condition but could use a deep cleaning. Dried blood stains left it discolored. His mind fell back to the painful memories of watching helplessly as his Dark Brothers and Sisters died one by one; through betrayal, purification, and circumstance. They were such good people... well, most of them. Many, just as devoted as he, to protect the old ways. Respectfully, they were with the Dread Father now.

     Cicero examined the attached cloak, running his fingers across it until he found a corner that had been ripped off. A strange knot formed in his stomach as he realized this was his old armor. He had cut some fabric off to patch his jester outfit many years ago.

     "I'm taking this one," he said and began sifting through for the rest of his set.

     "But those are fo-"

     "We'll find something else," Cicero interrupted Nazir, "This one is mine."

     He collected his armor from the pile and stood up. Nazir understood enough not to argue.

     Cicero hurried out to the dining hall to show Mother the old armor but stopped dead in his tracks upon seeing Ruby sprinting across the room toward him. She had a huge smile on her face and was almost flying out the top of her new azure dress. She looked... amazing.

     "Cicero!!" she squeaked and leaped up onto him, causing the armor to drop from his hands. She clung onto her startled friend so tightly that he could hardly breathe. After embracing her for a few moments, Cicero attempted to peel her off and confirm what he had just heard.

     "Ruby? ...did you just say my name?" he asked, setting her lightly back onto her feet.

     "Cicero! Airu hinat!" she bounced and patted her hands on his chest excitedly.

     "By Sithis," he whispered in awe and lifted her chin with the edge of his finger to examine her neck, "Was it the collar? Was that why you were unable to speak?"

     "Cicero! Cicero! Ruby airu Cicero!" she cheered. Her voice was small and still a bit raspy.

     "Yeah..." Sage sighed, coming up behind them, "She can only speak Falmeri, though. I did teach her a few words and she seems to have learned several on her own-"

     "Cicero!" Ruby wrapped her arms around Cicero's torso and hugged him again. She was practically vibrating with excitement.

     "How did you get the collar off?" Cicero asked with an amused chuckle.

     The initiate waved his hand passively, "Uh, some scholar helped."

     "Did you ask her name?"

     "Sort of. She just continues to refer to herself as Ruby," he mumbled and crossed his arms as he watched her cuddling against Cicero, "I bought her that dress by the wa-"

     "Oh!" Cicero gasped, suddenly reaching into his coin pouch, "Ruby! Cicero got you something from Markarth!"

     Sage clenched his teeth. He was growing frustrated with Ruby's attachment to the annoying Imperial. It was nothing more than a gratitude crush for Cicero rescuing her, he assumed. But why? The guy was old and weird looking... he wasn't even elven! He had an obnoxious nasally voice and was even missing a tooth now! Sage was close to Ruby's age and he wasn't cocky, but at least he knew he had a good-looking face. What did Cicero have that Ruby liked so much? 

     Cicero lifted the gold ruby necklace for her to see. She reached out and poked the gem curiously.

     "It's a ruby," he explained as he put it around her neck gently, "Cicero thought of this beautiful gemstone when he first saw your unique eye."

     Sage recalled what that creepy Breton said about the Oblivion Window. He thought about saying something but his jealousy got the best of him and decided to keep it to himself.

     Cicero clasped the thin chain on the necklace closed and rest the pendant lightly on Ruby's collarbone. He was relieved to see the bondage of her slavery was removed and felt that this small trinket was a beautiful introduction to her new, free life. 

     "Where's my gift?" Jade asked as she descended the steps to the main hall.

     Cicero looked up to see her smirking at him. He didn't have one for her. He had hardly even thought of her the entire trip. If anything, it was a welcomed vacation from their constant bickering and drama. Sure, there were many other things on his mind... many other things happening to his mind... but that didn't make him feel any less guilty. Cicero's long silence was telling.

     Jade shrugged and shook her head, "Yeah, I didn't think so," she muttered as she swaggered over, "Oh, by the way, I'm having a dagger made for you from Skyforge steel. Should be ready in a few days."

     "I was just-" Cicero wasn't sure what to say. No matter what, he felt like an asshole. First, she didn't want anything to do with him, then she goes and commissions a blade of precious metal he'd often mused about... and now she's being passive-aggressive for not receiving a gift in return! How was he supposed to know? Not like Jade ever wore jewelry anyway... Women were too damn complicated.

     "It's fine," Jade knelt and collected the armor he had dropped, "I don't need a pretty necklace to know how you feel about me. I've got morning sickness instead." She stood and shoved the armor into his arms roughly. Her cold gaze made it clear that Cicero had made a mistake in judgment. Giving sweet Ruby a necklace and nothing to her had made a statement that he had not intended to make.

     "Puahu?" Ruby said curiously, turning to Jade with wide eyes.

     "Yes," Jade frowned at her, "I know you can talk. Now we can hear how you don't understand anything..."

     "Puahu!?"

     "Exactly," she shook her head and turned her disapproving gaze back to Cicero, "We're leaving at dawn for the final Riften target. All business. I just want to get this over with."

     "Yes, yes. All business. Keep it quick. In and out. Of course, Listener..." he replied, tightening his lips as he tried not to smile at his own joke.

     "Don't," Jade squinted, "Oh, and another thing," she pointed her finger in his face, "I'm no longer your 'Listener'. You will address me as Jade from now on."

     "Understood, Madam Jade."

     "That's better. I don't-" she paused as Ruby suddenly reached out and touched her stomach.

     "Puahu! Ah!" the small elf gasped excitedly.

     "What is she doing?" Jade took a step away, shrugging up defensively.

     Ruby placed her hands on her own belly and jumped up and down repeating the word happily. 

     "Baby," Mother clarified as she casually sauntered into the room, taking a seat at the dining table, "She knows you're with child."

     "Ha..." Jade looked creeped out.

     "She's got some way of knowing how people are feeling," Cicero said quietly, "She just... knows things."

     "Empathy," Mother explained, "She's an empath. She is able to physically feel what others do just by being near them."

     "What are you saying?" Jade squinted, "She feels pregnant, then?"

     "Makes sense," Sage added, "I've been thinking about it since she arrived. She's way too small and weak to do manual labor as a slave. I noticed that she is quite good with domestic chores like sewing, cleaning, and preparing food. Being an empath, she'd be excellent as a sort of general caretaker, probably even a midwife."

     "She knows how to dress wounds," Cicero nodded and gestured to the healing cut on his cheek from where Jade kicked him in the face.

     "She's useful, then," Mother said firmly, "Finding her was a good thing."

     "Puahu, Jade!" Ruby giggled and made a cradling gesture with her arms.

     Jade's face became red with embarrassment. She turned and swiftly left the room without another word. Sage decided to use the awkward moment to his advantage and mimicked her cradling gesture back.

     "Baby," he smirked and nodded at her, "See? Baby."

     "Ah! Baby!" Ruby repeated him, excited to learn a new word. 

     Sage then pointed at Cicero, "Cicero's baby."

     Ruby looked over as Cicero's face turned pale. What was Sage trying to do!? Ruby did NOT need to know what his past 'relations' with Jade were... if she even understood that sort of thing. Ruby was young and innocent; like a kid sister. He suddenly felt uneasy as he stared back at her.

     "Sage... I don't think you need to tell her that."

     Ruby's eyes sparkled and she stood frozen as if processing this information. Sage glanced back and forth between them as if he had just lit an explosive and was waiting for the reaction. Mother leaned back from the table to watch.

     "Cicero... baby?" Ruby's tiny voice whispered.

     Cicero wanted to deny it and distract her with something else, but she would figure it out sooner or later, right? Yet, to his surprise, the girl's thoughtful expression grew into an ecstatic smile. A high-pitched squeal formed in the back of her throat as she clenched her small fists over her face and began dancing in place.

     "Ruby...?" Cicero was unsure what this was.

     But Sage knew. Failing to introduce a rift between Cicero and Ruby, the initiate frowned and promptly headed back to the cooking station, not wanting to witness the tightening bond he'd accidentally created. Ruby finally moved her hands from her face. Her eyes were sparkling with fresh tears but her bright smile proved she was way more than just happy. She was over the moons.

     "Happy Cicero!" she gasped, her voice cracking a little as she wrapped her arms around him again.

     Cicero lightly hugged her back still feeling awkward. He now understood why Jade left the room so suddenly.

     "Baby crazy," Mother chuckled and sipped her drink, "Maybe that's why she likes you so much. You remind her of a helpless baby."

     Cicero wanted to reply with a witty retort but was interrupted by Sage not so casually reminding him that he should get some rest before leaving for Riften in the morning. Perhaps he was hoping that after Cicero went to bed that Ruby would stay and help him cook. No such luck. The flames of jealousy burned hotter in Sage's heart than the flames of the cooking station.

~

     Jade wasn't in her bed yet. In fact, Cicero couldn't figure out where she went after her abrupt departure. She was very good at making herself disappear when things got uncomfortable. Though, so was he. For this, Cicero knew it was best to leave her alone for now.

     Ruby followed him to the initiate quarters humming the whole way. She had so many things she wanted to say and ask him but she knew he wouldn't understand. Being able to use her voice again was a gift and she wanted to learn the new language as quickly as possible. She had so many stories to tell and feelings to vocalize. Learning that there was going to be a new baby to care for made her so happy and knowing it was Cicero's made it even more exciting. Ruby loved him so much that just the idea of a tiny version of him to carry around with her was almost too much to contain.

     Cicero placed his old armor set on the floor at the foot of the bed and noticed the pile of clean new fabrics neatly folded there.

     "Did Sage buy you these too?" he asked Ruby.

     "Ruby!" she nodded and pointed to herself then made a sewing gesture with her hands.

     Cicero moved the fabrics from the dirty floor and placed them neatly on the nightstand. He then safely stored his new blade under the bed and began to remove his belt and leathers. 

     The thought of going back to Riften haunted him, but going back with Jade made it worse. It wasn't because of what happened there specifically... he just knew how dangerous this mission would be. With Jade being well-known there, it would be very difficult to just get in and get out without being noticed. 

     She needed his protection. Not just because she was his superior, title or not, but for the sake of his own child. Jade was not going to make that easy either. She didn't like being protected. She didn't like feeling vulnerable. Cicero's fears of her acting out were justified. He worried she would think she had something to prove; That she didn't need to be protected.

     After Cicero settled into bed, Ruby crawled up beside him. She rested her head on his arm and cuddled close for warmth as they always did, but she could feel that something was wrong. Cicero's anxieties lingered.

Chapter Text

     The pleasant aroma of seasoned meat cooking called to Cicero from his bed. He found himself sitting up and pulling the soft linen sheets aside. His bedroom was of Cyrodiilic fashion with fine Imperial furniture. Everything was clean and undamaged. He stood up slowly and brushed the wrinkles out of his white dress shirt before making his way toward the kitchen.

     "Hey, you. You're finally awake," Jade's voice sounded pleasant and loving. She was standing at a wood stove with her back to him. She was also dressed in clean, well-sewn attire.

     "I was... really tired," Cicero replied, rubbing the sleep from his face.

     Jade turned and smiled warmly at him. Her long emerald-colored dress actually covered her cleavage, draping down over her visibly pregnant belly. "Well, you're just in time. I'll have your breakfast ready in a few minutes," she said in a kind voice before turning back to the stove.

     Cicero looked around the humble kitchen seeing that it was fully stocked with everything a middle-class man in Cyrodill would ever need. Freshly hunted pheasant and various root vegetables hung near the sink. The spice rack was full of rich and rare seasonings. The cupboards were organized with actual plates and silver tankards.

     Jade hummed quietly as she cooked. She seemed so happy... Cicero cautiously stepped up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders lightly. Instead of yelling or swinging at him, she tilted her head to rest her cheek on his hand. Her soft skin was warm on his cold fingers. She sighed peacefully as he slowly wrapped his arms around her, pressing himself against her back in a soft embrace. Jade set her cooking utensil down and turned in his arms to face him. Cicero stared into her bright green eyes. She looked like a different person. He'd only remembered her looking at him this sincerely one other time; when she had just witnessed her abusive uncle slain by his blade. The same night he finally accepted her advances.

     Cicero lowered his hand and timidly placed it on the side of her stomach, half expecting to be slapped. Instead, Jade smiled and placed her hand upon his.

    "Oh!" she gasped, "I forgot to tell you! Mother is here."

     "Mother...?" Cicero oddly felt nervous.

    "She arrived this morning. She's in the family room," Jade tenderly kissed him on the cheek, "Go say hello. I think she wants to speak to you."

    Ha. The irony of that statement...

     Cicero didn't want to let Jade go. He wanted to pull her in closer and feel her embrace him back. But this wasn't Jade... well, it was, but not the Jade he knew. She turned back to the stove to tend to breakfast. Cicero hesitated before making his way toward an open doorway at the head of the kitchen. A warm inviting glow from a fireplace bathed the family room walls as he entered. He could see a frail thin woman sitting in a wooden rocking chair near the hearth.

     "Mother," he sighed, "I'm happy you are still with us..."

     "Cicero," a soft female voice, barely familiar to him, replied, "My little chickpea..."

     A chill ran up his spine. Cicero remembered that nickname and suddenly felt uneasy. He cautiously shuffled over to the fireplace and leaned to see the woman's face.

     "...M-... momma...?" his voice became weak and childlike. His own mother sat before him. Her face was just as he remembered it as a small child, but her hair was thin and gray. Her light amber eyes lifted to meet his. She held out her thin frail arms and beckoned him to come closer.

    "Mom," he gasped and leaned down to hug her. His memories of his mother were few and scattered. He remembered that she was always sad and often confused. She struggled to keep them fed and clothed in a small worn down house in Bruma. She'd rarely spoken of his father whom he'd never met.

     "My sweet chickpea, I'm so sorry," she sighed as he knelt before her, "I didn't want you to struggle the way you did..."

     "Where did you go?" he asked as he began to cry, "Why didn't you come back for me?"

     "I just couldn't do it anymore," she stroked his hair with her thin fingers, "I couldn't take the pain anymore..."

     Cicero stared at her through tear-filled eyes, "Why didn't you take me with you? I-... I didn't want to be alone..."

     "You were a mere babe. It would have been wrong of me to take you too. You were always such a positive and loving child. So devoted and always willing. It was not your time."

     "It wasn't yours, either!" Cicero wiped his eyes with the side of his hand, "You didn't have to do it!"

     "I was weak. My heart couldn't take it anymore...," she touched his cheek lovingly, "I know you understand that decision. You've faced it many times as well, my child."

     "I could have helped you. We could have saved each other. I could have worked and helped make money for food and-"

    "You were only seven years old."

     "I WAS ONLY SEVEN YEARS OLD AND YOU LEFT ME!!"

     "..."

    "I was alone..."

     "..."

     "You were all I had, momma."

     "..."

     Cicero stood, pulling himself away from his mother and placing his hands over his face. If only she could understand what her suicide did to him. The Bruma guards did nothing... they didn't come for him. He heard it from the other children. They mocked him. Laughed at him. His own mother didn't want to live with him anymore, they'd say. He drove her to do it, they'd laugh. For years, they tormented him. Oh, they laughed and laughed... until they didn't...

     Cicero's attention suddenly turned to the clamoring of children and rapid footsteps on the wooden floor. He turned to see three young kids scampering into the room. Though he did not recognize them, their presence felt familiar as well. The two oldest-looking kids, a boy and a girl, jumped up on him and began pulling at his shirt. They all had hair as red as his and eyes as green as Jade's.

     "Mom said you would sleep all day!" the older girl laughed as she lifted her baby brother into her arms.

    "Father! Father! Can we go hunting now?" The eldest boy asked eagerly.

     "I-..." Cicero's heart began to race. Was this his family? It had to be. He was rather grateful that the children looked more like Jade. They were cute and full of energy and smiles and all excited to see him.

     "Come on!" the boy begged, grabbing Cicero's hand and pulling him, "You promised to help me with archery today!"

     "I can hit a target at 30 yards!" The daughter said confidently and stuck her tongue out.

     "Liar!" her brother snapped back at her, "You cheated."

     Cicero smiled and reached down to take the baby from his sister. He instantly clung to him as if he didn't want to let go. The other two children continued to argue not unlike Jade and Cicero on any given day.

     "Alright," he interrupted, "Let's take it outside."

     The kids let out some excited chirps and quickly ran out the front door. Cicero followed with the youngest in his arms. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the bright sun. The house was surrounded by acres of tall grass and scattered trees. It looked just like the fields he would run and play in as a child. In fact, it felt like he knew this area very well.

     The two eldest children took off in a foot race across the yard toward an archery range set up beyond the garden.

     "Brother Cicero," a kind small voice said from nearby, "The sky is clear today. The baby should have his head covered."

     Cicero glanced over to the wooden fences lining the garden and saw... Ruby. She stood and dusted the dirt from her pink farmer's dress. She was planting carrots and beats. Her wavy white hair was to her shoulders and her scars were mysteriously gone.

     "Miss Ruby..." Cicero whispered in awe and walked over to her, "You look beautiful."

     "I'm covered in dirt," she laughed as she reached out to pull a little bonnet over the infant's head. She then carefully took the baby from his arms and smiled that comforting warm smile. "Is everything alright?" she asked.

    "Why do you ask?"

     "It feels like something is wrong."

     "I-... I don't know... I feel like something bad is about to happen..." he began fidgeting.

     "Are you afraid, Brother Cicero?"

     "Afraid?" He had to think about that. He usually killed whatever made him afraid. And if he couldn't do that, he'd run away from it. This time he was unable to pinpoint what it was. It just felt like something ominous was pending and he was helpless to even know how to react appropriately.

     Ruby's gaze lifted to the skies over the field where the children had run to. Cicero noticed and looked as well. There was a cluster of dark clouds forming rapidly on the horizon. They spun and expanded growing darker and darker until they appeared to be as black as the Void. 

The Void...

     "What is it...?" Ruby's voice trembled.

     Before Cicero could speculate, the air became heavy and a loud rumble began to grow in the distance. The entire sky was dark now and Ruby was panicking.

     "The children!" She screamed and took off running toward the field, bracing the youngest against her chest.

     "Ruby!!" Cicero sprinted after her but only managed to take a few steps before a bright flash came from above, blinding him. He staggered and held his face as the roar from the horizon grew more intense. When he was finally able to see again, Ruby was gone and the fields were on fire with deep blue flames. Though the smoke was very far away, Cicero found himself choking and unable to catch his breath. He stumbled toward the front door and began shouting for Jade but he couldn't hear his own voice over the rumbling.

     Jade ran out of the house screaming. The front of her dress was drenched in blood. She held her stomach with one hand and reached for Cicero with the other. As he reached for her, everything seemed to slow down. Jade's fingers fell short of his as the house behind her grew dark and shadowed as it was gradually swallowed up by the hungry void. Her face expressed sheer terror as she, too, was pulled into the blackness. Cicero couldn't move. The world around him continued to distort and fall prey to the ravenous umbra.

     The roar faded to a deafening silence until nothing was left but darkness... and Cicero. 

     Alone. 

     He suddenly felt weak as the immense loss hit him. He lowered to the pitch-black ground and curled up on his side, hugging his arms around as he panted trying to catch his breath. His breathing was the only sound left, echoing in his head.

     All gone. Again. 

     Was this it? Was this why his mother gave up? Did she reach a point where she just couldn't handle the loneliness anymore? The pain. It radiated in his chest as a burning pressure. He wanted to die. Cicero helped his breath, hoping to choke to death on his own tears. He clenched every muscle in his body in rage until he heard something. Crying? He exhaled slowly and opened his eyes, still seeing only blackness. It sounded like a small child weeping in the distance.

     "Get up..." he said to himself, his body feeling extremely heavy, "Get up, you fool!"

     Cicero felt something blunt hit the side of his head. His eyes shot open and he turned over, squinting at Jade standing beside his bed in the living quarters of the Sanctuary.

     "I said get up!" she snapped at him. She was already in her armor and had a bag of supplies over her shoulder.

     Cicero stared at her in confusion as he tried to remember where he was, cold sweat dripping down his brow. 

     "Oh hey," she suddenly smiled sarcastically, "You're finally awake."

     "I was... really tired." 

     "Well, you're making us late. No breakfast for you," she huffed and turned on her heel to storm out of the room.

     Cicero tucked his hair behind his ears and sat on the edge of the bed. His heart was still racing from the nightmare. Ruby was nowhere to be seen. Jade probably scared her off. He sighed and leaned down to collect his old Cyrodiil armor and get dressed for the trip to Riften.

Chapter Text

     There was a lot of commotion going on outside of the Riften gates when Jade and Cicero finally arrived. A large group of citizens and several guards were gathered just off to the side of the road north of the guard towers, many of them cheering and shouting. Jade slowed Shadowmere to a trot and kept her distance until she could tell what was going on.

     "Is that a dragon?" Cicero asked riding up beside her.

     "A dead one, yeah..." she replied.

    "We should probably wait before passing through. If anyone figured out you were the Dragonborn, things could get complicated-"

     "I won't say anything," Jade began riding toward the crowd, "I just want to see what the fuss is about."

    "Wait!  Don't go near!"

     "I told you! I won't say-"

    Suddenly, the dragon's body began to glow as the soul withdrew from it. Jade stopped the horse as she immediately realized why he had told her to wait.

    "Fish biscuits," she swore between her teeth as the soul wisped around the crowd erratically before diving into her. She sat stiffly until the glowing finally faded into her chest. The citizens gasped and began clamoring.

   "Ah..." Jade sighed and dismounted her horse, "Okay, then... yeah, yeah." She began heading toward the surprised crowd nodding her head and shrugging her shoulders, "I'm the Dragonborn of legend and all that..." Her tone was flat and passive.

     "Is that so?" a loud male voice called over the crowd in a thick Nordic accent, "I didn't see you kill this dragon!"

     Jade stopped. Was someone seriously challenging her? She scanned the faces of the surprised spectators for the culprit. Cicero finally caught up to her after tying his horse to a fence.

     "Who said that!?" She yelled.

     "Let's not do this," Cicero whispered to her and took her by the arm, "All business, remember?"

     "This is business," she snapped at him, "Dovahkiin business."

     "I'm the one who slew this dragon!" the owner of the voice pushed his way through the crowd. He was... a guard?

    "You've got to be kidding me," Jade mumbled.

     "I got to thinking the other day," the guard stepped up to her and puffed out his chest, "Maybe I'm the Dragonborn and I just don't know it yet. So when this dragon attacked, I killed it. Simple as that."

     Jade craned her neck back and squinted back at him. His beady eyes were all she could see of his face deep in his helmet. She wanted to punch this cocky Nord right in the nose. If she could see his nose.

     "Did you not witness me absorb that soul?" she scoffed, "I could shout you off of the face of Nirn right now."

     "That's just it," he chuckled, "You have all these fancy abilities to help you fight dragons. I'm just a Stormcloak with guard duty. That automatically makes me stronger than you."

     Jade clenched her fists. Cicero attempted to grab her again just to be swatted away. The idiot guard needed to be put in his place. Contract or not, Jade had to deal with this 'un-Dragonborn'.

     "So you want to continue fighting dragons, eh?" she asked while cracking her knuckles.

     "Sure. Might even make a job out of it. My cousin in Whiterun will be so jealous."

     "Is that so? Well, I could summon an ancient dragon here RIGHT now if you'd like. Straight from the Soul Cairn," Jade threatened, "I just have to call his name."

     "Do it."

     "I will."

     "I want to see."

     "Watch me."

     "I'm watching."

     Cicero knew he had to step in. This was getting out of hand. Summoning an undead dragon in front of the Riften gates was not how the Dark Brotherhood conducted business. It was literally the OPPOSITE of how to not be noticed.

     "Lady Jade!" he moved between them, "I must insist that we leave this for a better time!"

    "Get out of the way, Imperial!" she shoved him as hard as she could but he hardly budged, "This is Nord business. You wouldn't understand."

     "I thought you said this was Dovahkiin business," he replied gaining back his stature.

     "Both! Both are none of YOUR business!" she attempted to shove him again.

     "Mother's command outranks yours, Listener!" Cicero attempted to remind her with a high-pitched agitation in his voice.

     "Better listen to your little pet," the guard laughed, "Nord women who hang around Imperial men are just treacherous gold-digging whores. Dragonborn or not."

     Jade's eye began to twitch. She was so angry that she didn't even reply. 

     Cicero turned around and held his finger up to the guard, "Excuse me, what was your name?" 

      "Urf."

    There was a long pause. Cicero could sense Jade moving closer, probably to say something, but he held his arm back to halt her. Amazingly, she stopped.

     "...Urf...?" Cicero nearly choked on the word.

    "You have a problem with my name?" Urf crossed his arms.

     "I'm sorry, it must be the accent," Cicero chuckled, "Urf... as in the sound a Khajiit makes while hacking up a hairball? Or Urf as in the sound a man makes when he takes a boot to the gonads?"

     "I don't understand what you are saying. It's an old family name," the guard tilted his head to the side. Perhaps he was too stupid to be insulted properly. Cicero had never come across a case such as this. He hated to have to dumb down his own jokes for the likes of this ass, but it seemed he had no choice.

     "Your name must be the sound your mother made when she first laid eyes on you," he smirked.

     "Of course, it was," the guard shrugged, "She named me when I was born. I don't understand what you are trying to say. Are you trying to mock me?"

     "That's enough," Jade moaned and grabbed Cicero's shoulder, moving him aside, "I'm just going to kick his ass now."

     "No!" Urf stomped his boot, "This faithless Imperial insulted the Grey-Cock clan-"

     "Grey-Cock!?" Cicero felt like he needed to sit down, "Your family name is Grey-Cock!? That's enough to make any man say 'Urf...'"

     "Stop it! My name isn't a sound word!"

     "Onomatopoeia," Cicero corrected.

     "You can't do that here. Find a proper facility to relieve yourself."

     "What are you trying to do?" Jade asked, seeming a bit calmer now.

     "Don't worry," Cicero replied with a smile, "Just jester business. You wouldn't understand."

    Jade glanced around at the crowd of civilians who were all watching the awkward conflict unfold with great interest. She decided to let Cicero handle it and began backing away slowly. The mistake of getting too close to the dragon and absorbing its soul had started a chain of events that made her feel a lack of control. She didn't want to let on that she couldn't remember the name of the Soul Cairn dragon at that moment and she didn't want to back down from the fight with so many spectators. Her reputation was on the line. 

     Fortunately, Cicero didn't care about reputation. He used to dress like a clown and dance in public. FOR FREE. The only reputation he cared about was that of the Night Mother and the Brotherhood. So if he could take the fall for this early misstep, Jade could sneak out of there without being noticed. 

     "So," Cicero turned back to the guard, "What made your cock grey? Sleeping with too many of those Nordic whores who hang around Imperials? Do they give you a pity discount after you show it to them or do you have to pay extra for the inconvenience?"

     The crowd gasped and chuckled. Urf's helmet was all that protected his honor as his face turned bright red.

     "Ooh," Cicero smiled wickedly, putting his hands on his hips, "I think my insult finally landed, didn't it? Landed... crashed... and buuuured. Are you in need of some burn ointment, friend? Oh, I'm sure you have plenty for that terrible case of crotch rot you must have."

     "I am unharmed by your stupid words, you fool!" Urf shouted. All of this crazy talk was giving him a headache. "Hairballs and sound words and now crotch burns?" the guard turned to the crowd, "Surely this Imperial is crazy!" The spectators laughed and applauded. 

     Suddenly, Cicero burst into hysterics, "Cicero!? Crazy!?" he gasped between his heaves of laughter, "That's... maaadness..." He cackled so loudly that the audience instantly fell quiet.

     Urf took a few steps back not even noticing that Jade was long gone. Cicero abruptly stopped cackling just as suddenly as he had started and wiped a spot of drool from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. He slowly scanned over everyone with wide menacing eyes. Being accused of harboring madness when he'd never been more focused or sane in recent memory was painfully ironic.

     "Alright..." Urf drew his sword and angled it toward Cicero as he continued to back away, "That's enough of that... I fight dragons... not nutters."

     "That dirty whore must have given me a terrible disease," Cicero said in a shrill voice, "It's eating through my braaaain! The madness consumes me!!"

     The nervous crowd quickly began to back away. Cicero cackled hysterically and extended his arm to point dramatically at the retreating guard. Urf paused with his eyes wide as if caught in a trance. 

     "...Run," Cicero growled under his breath trying to channel his best draugr voice.

     Urf finally broke from his stance and turned to run.

     He only managed to take a few steps before tripping over the tail bones of the fallen dragon and face-planting into a pile of leaves.

     "Run and tell the others to look away!" Cicero raised his voice again as he trudged over to the fallen guard, "If any authority dares approach me or my female companion for any reason... you will all learn the true meaning of CRAZY. You especially. Don't test me!" He leaned down and whispered, "I will eat your face in your sleep."

     Urf managed to stagger to his feet and continued to run off into the woods, his armor clanking with every panicked step.

     Cicero finally relaxed his tense posture once he was sure everyone was gone. He sighed and shook his head. Never a dull moment in Riften.

Chapter Text

     Even though the scaring of the guards went over well, Cicero decided it would be best to keep a low profile once he got through the gates. Word spread very quickly around Riften and it was only a matter of time before the influential Black-Briar family got wind of the "crazy man" threatening authorities. The Dark Brotherhood may have been in bed with both the Thieves Guild and the Black-Briars when it came to the hierarchy of crime and protection, but he didn't want to push his limits and create an unnecessary rift between the factions. Mother would be quite upset.

     Behind the two-story Black-Briar estate, there was a small graveyard tucked away near the outer wall. It didn't seem that many people visited the graves anymore. The grass and weeds were overgrown and several of the stones were damaged. The site seemed all but forgotten. This was a good thing though, for this was the hidden entrance to the Thieves Guild.

     Where the unkept yard ran along the local temple of Mara, there stood a sole mausoleum. It housed a stone coffin that, when a small emblem was pressed, pulled back to reveal a hidden staircase. It was already open. As Cicero rounded the corner, he saw Jade leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. Only her eyes lifted to greet him.

     Cicero bowed gracefully, "We shouldn't have any more problems, my lady."

     "Hey," Jade pushed herself off of the wall, her tone soft, contradicting her stern expression, "When we get down there just let me do the talking, okay?"

     "Of course," Cicero tried to sound confident in her but he was worried. Jade had proven herself unreliable at keeping situations simple by allowing her ego and need for attention to get in the way. He was no hypocrite, though. Cicero knew he had been careless with his own over-emotional knee-jerk reactions in the past. It was why he knew what to watch for.

     Jade sighed, "I may have been elected as the leader of the Thieves Guild, but there really is no leader. It's just an honorary title," She explained, "I've tried to distance myself from the guild as much as possible since I have family ties in it... as you know."

     Cicero bit his lips together and nodded.

     "I'm just going to ask for information on random members to find the target's location without arousing suspicion," she paused for a long moment while staring him in the eye, "...are you okay?"

     He grinned, "Yes, Miss Jade. I am as well as well can be." His peppy tone reflected his joy at someone actually asking that. It was rare for someone to if he was alright in a genuine way. Even though he was mentally and emotionally pulled to the limit, he smiled warmly.

     "Was that an act?" Jade asked.

     "Was what an act?"

     "That craziness outside the gates just now..."

     "Of course!" Cicero chuckled, "Like a scene for a play where the jester distracts the guards so the princess may flee the kingdom safely-"

     "Princess?" she scoffed, "I'm no princess."

     "Ah, but princess by the eye of man; dark assassin by hand and blade-"

     "I thought you finally had your head together," Jade squinted at him, "When I met you, you were this mad, broken, twisted fool... then almost overnight you are a totally different person. I don't even know if I like the new you better. I can't tell what is going on in your head anymore. How can someone be both mad AND sane at the same time?"

     Cicero's smile faded and his shoulders dropped. She had a point. He felt like his mental state had improved over the last month or so... but maybe his concept of what it felt like to be sane again was really just another level to his own madness. Sure, he was clear-headed and the voices had left him be, yet his bouts of irrational paranoia had been replaced with sudden waves of unprovoked anger and brutality. The laughter was gone.

     "I'm... sorry," he said under his breath not knowing how else to reply.

     "For what?"

     "I don't know."

     Jade twisted her mouth to the side. Nazir had asked her to keep an eye on Cicero when his personality started to change a while back. Since then, he'd been even more unpredictable and seemingly more dangerous. She recalled the time at the inn when he had grabbed her forcefully and began threatening her with his blade against her body. The wound from her kicking him in the face may have faded but the uncertainty remained. 

     Then the brutal execution of her uncle in the cellar of the old cabin. She'd never get the image of Cicero beating Uncle Jarkov's skull into a mushy puddle of blood and brains out of her mind. These weren't the actions of a silly little madman who enjoyed bloodying his blade for Sithis. These were the actions of an emotionally disturbed and broken man who suffered from decades of unresolved issues.

     "Well... anyway, as I said," Jade awkwardly changed the subject, "These are my people. Let me do the talking." She turned to head down the steps into the mausoleum. 

     Cicero nodded in compliance as he followed, "Thieves Guild business. Got it." 

     After descending a rusty ladder through a narrow tunnel, they were greeted by the humid stench of the cistern. It took a moment to let their eyes adjust to the dim light.

     "By Nocturnal's left tit! If it isn't Jade!" a male Bosmer said coming over to them. He wore a hood and a crooked smile.

     "That's me," Jade sighed, "It's been a while since I've been down this way..."

     "You remember me, right?" he asked eagerly as she swiftly stepped past him.

     "Uh... yeah... the kid who got bored of the good life?" Jade wasn't interested in making small talk with the guild members. Just being down there was stirring up a lot of bad memories.

     "Niruin!" he continued to her, "Rune and I were talking about starting a brothel and you punched me in the back of the head-"

     "Yup. I remember."

     "Are you back for good? We lost a few members recently but we've also gained a few-"

     "Just here to talk to Brynjolf," Jade picked up her pace now that some of the other thieves had noticed her. They spoke in low tones and pretended to look away, but it was glaringly obvious that her presence was out of place.

     Niruin quickly got the message and dropped back. Cicero returned the look. He and Cicero exchanged suspicious glances as they passed one another.

     Jade made her way around the large pool of water in the center of the circular room. A large and handsome Nord with dark red hair was leaning over a desk near a wall filled with rare treasures. He was already looking over his shoulder at her with his beautiful emerald-colored eyes.

     She smiled, "No, don't turn around. I enjoy the view."

     The man was Brynjolf, a well-respected member of the guild. Jade may have had the title of leader, but this was the guy running the operations. He didn't like the idea of being in charge... or, at least admitting he was.

     "Jade, my gem," he turned and beamed back at her like an old friend, "I thought you'd left us for good. We've missed the drama."

     Cicero pursed his lips trying not to chuckle out loud. It was good to know that she clashed with everyone and not just him.

     "You look absolutely divine in your Winter-Heart clan armor," Brynjolf sauntered closer and placed his hand lightly on her shoulder.

     "This old thing?" she blushed at his touch.

     Cicero rolled his eyes. Watching her flirt with... well, anyone, was annoying and frankly, quite awkward for him. Just one more thing to remind him of his place in this world. He was just the guy who carried the supplies and rushed in to save the day when she got in over her head. He never received acknowledgment or praise for his services but... humble Cicero lived to serve.

     "What brings you down, lass?" Brynjolf asked, sitting on the edge of the desk.

     "Nothing too important. Just some personal matters," she cleared her throat as she looked him over. Her interest in his body was not subtle, "I was hoping you had some sort of roster of the members I could look at."

     "Ah, you know you merely have to bat an eyelash if you need a hand with something. I'm sure I can rally the appropriate team-"

    "Oh, no. I was just curious about anyone who may have joined since I've been away."

     "Ah," Brynjolf leaned back and winked at her, "Keeping tabs on us, eh?"

     "Something like that..."

     "Well, we have gained the expertise of Rayvin and Haurik. Both are quite skilled in lockpicking. We also had a Dark Elf join about a week ago. Kearin, I think his name was... That's about it."

     Jade felt heavy with disappointment. She'd been hoping to just walk in and get the mark's location and dip back out without hassle. Of course, that would have been too easy.

     "Well, that's good," she nodded. Her eyes drifted to the floor in thought.

     "Indeed. Our numbers were suffering for a bit. We lost Yarjir on a job and less than a week later we had to exile Krow for killing Vinrod in cold blood."

     "Krow?" Jade jolted back into the conversation, "Who's Krow?" Of course, she already knew.

     Brynjolf hesitated, his expression saddened, "A little Redguard initiate we had for about a month. A loose cannon, he was. He'd been caught stealing from other members on a few occasions. He eventually reported Fenrald to a guard after a sloppy heist and took the reward resulting in Fenrald's arrest. So he's also a snitch."

     "Where is he now?"

     "Krow? We had to exile him after he killed Vinrod for confronting him. Told him to never show his face here again or we'd have the Brotherhood take him out," Brynjolf casually cut his eyes to Cicero, clearly recognizing the old shrouded armor, "He escaped into the Vaults."

     Jade smiled a little and glanced at Cicero too. He had his back to them while playing with a strange Dwemer puzzle cube he found sitting among the shelves of loot. 

     She looked back at Brynjolf while smiling smugly, "Sounds like you have a little rat problem. I'm sure I can handle it."

     "I'd rather you didn't," Brynjolf stood up, his face still melancholy, "He's quite dangerous... I don't know if you've heard, but... we believe he was responsible for Gogvir's death."

     Cicero dropped the puzzle cube startling Jade. He quickly picked it up and put it back on the shelf before glancing over at Brynjolf surprise.

     "Uncle Gogvir...?" she said lost in thought, "The initiate killed my uncle?"

     Brynjolf nodded and consolingly placed his hands on the sides of her arms, "I'm so sorry, lass. It happened about a month ago at the Bee and Barb. They had a history of threatening one another and the style of attack appeared to be swiftly executed by a much smaller individual. We wanted to inform his brother Jarkov, but he's disappeared. We fear the worst..."

     "Oh..." Jade tried to work up some tears but all she wanted to do was laugh. How perfect! Just when she was thinking that their return to Riften was going to be full of misfortune and inconvenience, the target himself saved the day! "Then even more reason I'd like to handle the rat myself."

     "As I said, he's extremely dangerous and-"

     "So am I," Jade snapped her fingers at Cicero to get his attention. He was already looking directly at her and had heard everything, but came to her call without fuss anyway.

     "Please be careful," Brynjolf sighed stepping away, "I'd hate to lose you as well..."

     "I'm the Dragonborn," she cracked her knuckles, "I've got this. Justice will be served for what he did to my uncles."

     Brynjolf blinked a few times, "Well, we don't have any evidence that Jarvok is even dead-"

     "Right," her gaze drifted away awkwardly, "But just in case."

     Jade abruptly took Cicero's arm and led him away before she accidentally revealed anything damning. He stumbled to keep up as she pulled him down a short corridor. As if she'd done it a million times, Jade effortlessly activated a switch to move a decoy bookshelf revealing a secret passage beyond the cistern. They stepped through and around a bend into a common area lovingly referred to as the 'Ragged Flagon'. Jade's eagerness was causing Cicero more concern.

     "Sit," she instructed as she pushed him toward a chair at one of the small tables sitting before a makeshift bar. He did as he was told and looked up at her patiently.

     "Order yourself a stiff drink," Jade placed a coin on the table knowing that it wasn't nearly enough to cover the price, "I'll be back."

     "Wait-!" Cicero tried to stand but was suddenly pushed back down by his shoulders.

     "I order you to stay," she grumbled, "This is my job."

     "Need I remind you, Mother assigned both of us."

     "Which was completely unnecessary. I finished my last assignment myself. I can do this one."

     "What are you trying to prove here?" he frowned.

     "What are YOU trying to prove here? You are my assistant and I don't need assistance. Your role is null, Keeper," she huffed in a commanding tone.

     Cicero stared at her with intensity in his eyes, his jaw clenched, but he didn't argue. He knew he was stepping out of line by challenging her. How dare he? She was the Dragonborn. He was merely the Keeper-... not even the Keeper. As she said, his role was moot. He was just her follower now. Her pack mule. Her expendable sidekick. She didn't need him. In fact, he was lucky she even kept him around.

     "Yes, Miss Jade," he muttered between his teeth and remained seated.

     Jade nodded and took a step back feeling in control again as she turned to leave. She was getting tired of him pushing the boundaries of her authority. Being stripped of her title of Listener had shaken her sense of power in the Brotherhood. She liked to think of the Sanctuary as her new home but she was beginning to feel more and more like an outsider again. With Cicero's retaliation against her orders recently and Mother taking back control, Jade had begun questioning her own jurisdiction. But one thing she did know was that she wasn't a follower. Cicero was.

----------------------

>>> New character added to the Character Guide Book: Brynjolf

Chapter Text

     The young barkeep placed a tankard down on the table in front of Cicero and nodded. Its contents splashed over the side releasing the strong stench of alcohol.

     "What is it?" Cicero asked in a nasally tone as he curled his lip.

     "Vekel here makes it 'imself," another man with a thick accent said as he took a seat across from him, "He also cleans wiff it. But It'll always cure what ails yeh,"

     Cicero cautiously peered inside the cup. The liquid was as clear as water. He hesitated for a long moment before holding his breath and lifting it to take a sip. The strange drink burned his tongue something awful, but he quickly swallowed it anyway.

     "Nope," Cicero choked and dry heaved, pushing the beverage away, "I'll pass."

     "Good for me," the man smiled and grabbed the drink for himself. Cicero watched as he chugged it with curious ease. He was a middle-aged Breton; bald and rather stocky. Something about him seemed vaguely familiar.

     "Have you ever paid for your own drink?" a petite blonde Imperial sighed as she strolled past and took a seat at a nearby table.

     "Oi," the Breton called over his shoulder, slamming the tankard down, "Mind yer own wax. A good thief pays fer nothin'." He extended his hand across the table toward Cicero, "Name's Delvin. Don't mind the peach with the sharp tongue. Vex is a sour one, that."

     "Cicero," he replied and casually shook Delvin's hand.

     "Wos that the boss come waltzin' through 'ere just now?"

     "Boss? Jade- Yes, Miss Jade," Cicero mumbled, still trying to place where he knew this guy from.

     "Didn't think we'd see that fine ass around 'ere again."

     "Excuse me?"

     "She'd moved on to darker things, if yeh know what I mean..." he nodded to Cicero's armor.

     "Darker..." Cicero squinted one eye as the taste of the rancid alcohol continued to tingle in the back of his throat.

     "She took over from Astrid in the Brotherhood," Delvin leaned his elbow on the table and glanced back toward the entrance where Jade had left through a few minutes earlier. Cicero remained silent.

     "I miss that piece o' work. Good woman, she was. Rest in peace."

     "Wait, you miss Astrid?"

     "Yeah. What a mess that wos. I hope the same fate don't befall that saucy Dragonborn, eh? Not a lot o' sexy feminine Nords out there, in my opinion. Rather not lose another."

     "Astrid was a fraud and a traitor," Cicero couldn't hold back. He hadn't spoken of her in several months and would rather forget the whole thing, but to hear someone speak so highly of that betrayer made him furious.

     Delvin's eyes widened and he finally really looked at Cicero. He was starting to recognize him as well. "And who are you, now? Cicero ye say?" he asked, straightening his posture in his chair.

     "That woman denied the word of the Night Mother and used the name of the Dark Brotherhood to line her own pockets. She betrayed the Dragonborn and the Dread Father... She deserved her fate."

     Delvin was surprised to see this stranger responding so passionately. Clearly, the topic had hit a sore spot for him. Then, it started coming together.

     "Ah... that's how I know your face... you're that clown that up'n burned the place down, right?"

     Cicero gasped, "I did no such thing!"

     "Yer arrival single-handedly brought down the entire sanctuary."

     "And rightfully so! The whole group was a farce! A joke that even I couldn't fathom!" Cicero stood up as his blood pressure rose.

     "Calm down, brother," Delvin leaned back in his chair passively, "We're all friends 'ere."

     Cicero glanced over at Vex seeing that she had her dagger drawn. He looked back down at Delvin who had a calm cool air about him.

     "I'm not part of your lil dark family," Delvin said, "I don't know the qualms and I don't care. It's just a shame she turned out to be such a flaming bitch, eh?" he chuckled.

     "...Literally," Cicero mumbled and sat back down.

     Delvin laughed at that. Vex grunted and put her blade away.

     Cicero took a deep breath. He wasn't sure why he'd gotten so triggered by Delvin's admiration of Astrid. Perhaps it was some sort of pent-up rage he'd not processed yet.

     "So you Lady Jade's new lapdog?" 

     "Huh?"

     "Ye know, her companion. The one she drags around by the dick to get what she wants?"

     "I-..." he wasn't sure how to reply.

     "Heh, I wish she'd jerk me around by the dick..." he lifted his eyes to Cicero, "Don't worry about it, kid. You're not the first. You won't be the last neither," Delvin paused as Vekel the barkeep placed another drink in front of him, "Before you, it was some pompous Imperial mage. A brat, he was. Poor bastard was found dead in an ally a short while back. A single stab wound to the spine," he sipped his drink and smacked his lips, "If that's not a Brotherhood kill, I don't know what is."

     Cicero began to feel warm. His skin was almost crawling.

     "Wouldn't be surprised if she hired the hit, herself. Probably got tired of 'em. She goes through men like a fashion statement. Tries one on then tosses 'em out. I'm surprised she can still find anyone to chase her in these parts. Most men know teh keep their hands to 'emselves, lest they lose 'em... or their lives." Delvin continued to stare at Cicero. He could tell that something was brewing in his head, "You haven't slept with 'er yet, have yeh?"

     Cicero was feeling ill. A strange emptiness grew inside his gut. It felt like a deep hunger. His ears felt hot.

     "The boss is a nice catch, but she'll eat yeh alive. I'd run if I were you," Delvin winked and sipped his drink again.

     The Ebony Blade on Cicero's back felt like it was burning a hole through him. He trembled a little as he realized that the urge that was building inside of him wasn't just rage, but blood lust. The rationalization that he was disposable and that Jade was possibly using him made his eye twitch. 

     There was more to Jade than that. To just write her off as some cold-hearted slut was just as fucked as writing him off as just some obnoxiously mad clown! She didn't think of him as merely a follower. She wore a facade, just as he did. She said and did things just to make herself appear heartless and powerful... right? Jade had an image to uphold. They were bound together for life through the word of Sithis... and the promise of family. Jade would never-

     "Oi,  you okay?" Delvin asked after noticing Cicero's eyes glaze over.

     Was he okay? That was the second time someone asked him that today. Well... was he?

     Cicero heard Vex unsheathe her dagger again and start screaming in a muffled tone. He couldn't understand what she was saying. He felt like his blood was literally boiling in his veins. His fingertips trembled around the hilt of the Ebony Blade as he slowly pulled it from the nasal cavity of the Breton once known as Delvin. Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion. Cicero's hands dripped with blood and his surroundings gradually came back into focus. The screaming finally became clear. She was calling for help.

     Cicero gasped and choked as the energy pulled from his victim and charged through his body. He was kneeling on the table, unsure of how and when he had leaped across it. Delvin's body rolled off of the chair onto the floor as another guild member, a large tavern bouncer, sprinted around the corner with his weapon drawn. 

     "Jade's companion!" Vex shouted, "He's... he's fucking mad!"

     Cicero slid off of the table and flicked the blade with his wrist to remove the blood. Without even thinking, he charged toward the much larger man in a long intimidating stride, glowering at him from under his furrowed brow while panting through his teeth.

     The bouncer swore under his breath and returned charge with his weapon raised. Cicero swiftly dipped down as the sword flew past his head and in one seamless gesture, he twisted his blade up cutting clean through the man's wrists.

     "Dirge!!" Vex shrieked in terror as she watched the severed hands fall to the ground with a loud wet thwap, his sword still gripped in one.

     Dirge stumbled backward in shock. His eyes stared blankly into space for a long moment as if seconds from collapsing to his death... when he smiled. His naturally deep and gravelly voice sounded inhuman as he began to laugh hysterically. Vex watched the surreal scene in sheer horror.

     "Well?" Cicero crowed as he turned to her, "You wanted him to give you a hand! Now you can have them both!"

     Knowing her dagger wouldn't be enough against a long blade, Vex frantically scooped up the bouncer's sword. Cicero took a few steps back to give her the chance  while watching patiently. He smiled so wide his lips began to bleed. Dirge's unnatural laugh quickly became weak and labored as his blood loss caught up to him. He staggered back against the bar, his body stumbling on impact before sliding to the floor in silence.

     "Brynjolf!!" Vex wailed, holding out the sword as she continued to shuffle around defensively, "Rune!!"

     "I'm not going to hurt you," Cicero said in an eerily quiet voice, "Cicero just wants to make you laugh... don't you like to laugh?"

     "Brynjolf! Help!! Please!!" she shrieked. Her hands trembled so much that the sword wobbled in her grip.

     "Oh, good idea!" Cicero took a step toward her, "The more the merrier as they say!" He began to skip a little and caper in place, humming a little tune as he gestured the Ebony Blade at her.

     Tears streamed down Vex's face. No one could hear her screams. No one was coming. Who was this guy...? Why was he doing this? What did he want?

     Cicero spun around as he danced and suddenly lurched toward her before she could even react, extending the blade into her chest. Her crying instantly stopped and her weapon fell from her hands. She gasped and sputtered through her clenched teeth as a forced smile rolled across her lips.

     "That's better..." Cicero cooed and slowly pushed her against the edge of a table, pressing the sword deeper.

     Vex chuckled, emphatically leaning into the blade as her eyes rolled back into her head. Cicero twisted the weapon sharply and she instantly fell limp. He lowered his arm under the dead weight and watched her body slide off and onto the floor. 

     Cicero closed his eyes and took a deep breath, holding it for a long moment. As the life energy from Vex absorbed into his veins, the hunger inside him felt satisfied. His extremities tingled as he was submerged in an almost orgasmic pleasure throughout his entire body.

     The clank of a broom hitting the floor caught his attention. Cicero opened his eyes and glanced back at the bar. Vekel the barkeep slowly stood up from behind the counter. They both remained silent, staring at one another for several moments before Vekel suddenly turned and sprinted down the corridor back toward the cistern. He was going to warn the others.

     Cicero finally exhaled and sheathed his blade to look at the blood on his shaking hands. He felt lightheaded and slightly confused as his mind gradually began to return. The rush was just as good as he had remembered, but this time he felt like he had more control throughout the process. Perhaps the Ebony Blade was bonding with him. Perhaps he was stronger than he thought... But one thing was for sure, Mother mustn't know of this.

     He wiped his hands on his thighs, momentarily glancing back down at his helpless victims. They had done nothing to deserve such a cruel fate, but somehow he felt no remorse. If anything, he worried how this could affect the Brotherhood's relationship with the Guild. Cicero considered going after the terrified barkeep and silencing him, but the risk of running into the rest of the guild was way too high. He had enough literal blood on his hands.

     The others were on their way. It was time to go find Jade and attempt to make an alibi... for what it's worth.

Chapter Text

     Cicero managed to slip through the door into the Ratway Vaults just as the sound of footsteps began echoing through the corridors. There was just no denying it. So much for not ruining the bond between the Brotherhood and the Thieves Guild. Mother was going to be furious. If she knew he used that blade again... 

     He couldn't worry about that now. If he had to clear out the entire guild later in order to sweep it under the rug, then so be it. Assuming he was even capable. Regardless, his racing mind was already on other things. Mainly, confronting Jade. She had only been down in this dungeon of a sewer for maybe half an hour. She couldn't have gotten far. Of course, when he found her, he'd have to explain why he had defied her orders by coming down, to begin with...

     All of this felt wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Cicero was having a hard time making sense of his own thoughts and actions. He was running on impulses. Impulses that felt natural but at the same time, somehow felt forced, as if something or someone else were making his decisions for him. Fighting it made him feel even crazier than before. Just going with it felt great but wrong. Wrong. Wrong. WRONG!

     The Ratway was incredibly dark. He'd been down here once before with Jade while she was searching for Esbern, one of the members of the Blades, to assist in taking out Alduin. But he didn't remember it being this difficult to see. Almost all of the torches on the walls had been removed from what he could tell, making it near impossible to navigate by sight alone. This had him worried for Jade's safety.

     Cicero traced his hand along the wet stone wall as he made his way down a set of steps into the center of the main chamber, listening to the dripping water and scurrying of rats and skeevers. With his eyes wide and posture tense, he scanned the shadows bathing the adjacent wall. 

     Since the unspoken code of the Thieves Guild was to avoid murder, this section of the Ratway was repurposed as a sort of make-shift jail for shadow justice, or for those who've wronged the criminal underground. An ironic place for the target to escape to. Over the years, the captives- typically being thieves themselves- had found various means of escape rendering the cells ineffective. It had since been abandoned after the Black-Briar family rose to power and all but took over the law enforcement of Riften, so the small rooms just collected debris and rubbish.

     Oddly, Cicero found himself thinking about carrots and how he was told that they help your night vision. After pondering for a moment, he remembered that it was a vegetable merchant who had told him that... probably to get him to buy more carrots. Well, it worked. He liked carrots anyway.

     "Miss Jaaaade..." Cicero hummed under his breath as he continued to feel his way around. He began counting the scattered beams of sunlight streaming in from the cracks in the high ceiling, taking note of where they landed in order to stay oriented in case he had to flee in a hurry.

     Cicero quietly sang her name again and bit his lip to make a whistling sound hoping to get Jade's attention, wherever she was. Suddenly a door burst open beside him and something snagged the back of his cloak, causing him to tumble backward. Cicero swung his arm trying to reach for his dagger but ended up hitting his elbow on the wall as he found himself pinned by something soft yet firm. The beams of light from the ceiling disappeared as a door was closed beside him. He was trapped.

     "Quiet, you fool," Jade's warm breath was inches from his chin. 

     Oh. That soft yet firm thing was her. He shuffled his feet around trying to find some room to move but quickly realized that the small room was filled with planks of rotting wood and possibly damaged furniture. He was having a hard time breathing with Jade's chest pressed tightly against his ribs.

     "Are we in a closet?" he asked quietly, "Why are we in a closet?"

     Jade remained eerily silent. A few seconds passed and there was a strange scratching noise outside the door. She twitched upon hearing it. Something clearly had her spooked. Was it the target? or...

     "Just rats," Cicero chuckled, the movement of his chest also moved hers.

     "Shh..." Jade shook her head. She wasn't arguing with him. That either meant she was too embarrassed to admit that she was afraid of a tiny rodent, or she was dead serious about whatever else could be making that sound.

     Several long minutes had passed since they'd heard any scratching. Cicero was beginning to feel warm again... but this time it wasn't the Ebony Blade causing it. It was the 'being crammed in a closet against someone's soft yet firm body' kind of warm.

     Jade shifted a little as she tried to peek through a crack in the door but suddenly snapped her head to look at Cicero's face... or the shadows that made up his face, rather.

     "What's that...?" she whispered in a frustrated tone.

     "What's what?" Cicero tucked his chin to look down at her.

     She shifted again in a jerking motion, accidentally kicking him in the shin. He didn't react.

     "Are you...?" she craned her neck back and curled her lip in disgust, "Are you aroused?"

     Cicero sighed and struggled to pull his hands up from his sides to prove that he wasn't trying anything funny. He held them up innocently but he, unfortunately, looked more like he was caught red-handed.

     "Purely by circumstance. Completely unintentional."

     Jade gasped and tried to slap at him but there wasn't enough room for her hands to get any momentum resulting in her merely wiggling against him. He closed his eyes and bit his lips together. She wasn't helping the awkward situation with her tantrum.

     "How can you be thinking about that right now!?" she hissed, "I'm being hunted!"

     "I swear, Cicero has no control over how his body is reacting right now..." he replied in a tiny voice.

     Jade stopped wiggling and glanced up at him again. He referred to himself in the third person. She'd only known him to do that when he used to be completely mad or in the middle of a psychotic break... Her heart began to race.

     "Why are you down here?" she asked flatly, trying to sound calm, "I told you I was going to do this myself."

     "Things went wrong..." he mumbled, "Cicero made some mistakes. Deadly mistakes... Mother will be furiouuus..."

     "What do you mean, 'deadly mistakes'?" she squinted at him.

     "You said something about being hunted?" he tried to change the subject.

     "I'm not having a conversation with you... poking me!" she pressed her palms against his chest and attempted to push herself away from him.

     "Good thing you have such a small frame, or we'd be pretty uncomfortable," he jested as she struggled.

     Jade stopped and glared at him, "Was that sarcasm?"

     "Dear Cicero meant nothing crude, Miss Jade. I'm just making an observation."

     "Really!?" she huffed angrily, "You're calling me fat!?"

     "Not at all. It's perfectly natural to pack on a few pounds this early in a pregn-"

     Jade elbowed the door open and almost effortlessly threw him out. Cicero got his feet tangled on the way down and was unable to break his fall, hitting the stone floor shoulder first.

     "What in Oblivion is wrong with you!?" Jade growled at him.

     "Me!?" he groaned, twisting to look back at her, "What is wrong with Cicero!? You're the one who was so offended by my natural functions. Do I disgust you that much!?"

     "Oooo!" an unfamiliar voice echoed around them, "I spy... a lovers' quarrel?"

     Cicero quickly got to his feet and pressed his back to the wall. The scattered beams of sunlight blinked as someone or something moved around above them.

     "Lass-Yah-Nir," Jade whispered. The quiet thu'um allowed her to see the faint life essence of a small person clinging to the stone ceiling. She drew her dagger.

     "He's above us," she whispered as she stepped past Cicero and moved along the wall toward an old set of scaffolding in an attempt to find cover. She watched the subtle essence fade after a few seconds. Her eyes widened as she tried to follow the shifting shadows above. The scratching sound was making her paranoid.

     Cicero didn't like this one bit. It was never good when the threat had the higher ground. He knew he needed to find a light source, and quick. He ran his hands along the wet stone walls feeling for a torch that may have been left behind. It seemed as if someone had removed or destroyed them all.  Finally, his hand landed on a piece of split wood perched in a rack beside one of the doors. He quickly reached into the pouch on his hip and retrieved a fire scroll. Lighting the torch, he turned and tossed it into the center of the room before backing into the shadows again.

     Jade flinched at the sudden brightness.

     "Oh, you're right bro. Your gal is thicc," a voice said directly into her ear.

     Jade shrieked, "Feim-Zii-Gron!" and her body instantly became spectral. She ducked away from the strange little Redguard hanging upside down from the scaffolding beside her and sprinted back toward Cicero.

     "The Dragonborn comes!" the man cheered in a mocking tone, "and the Dragonborn goes!" He flipped off the wall, landing on his feet; his long dreadlocks gracefully flicking with the movement. The target was dressed in initiate Thieves Guild armor. His tiny frame and lean build suggested he was quite young though it was hard to estimate.

     Jade's protection thu'um faded, leaving her vulnerable again. She tried to compose her panic, exchanging her fearful expression for one of annoyance.

     "Why so scared, pretty lady?" Krow smiled a wide grin as he paced toward them, tapping his fingertips together. They were capped with what appeared to be metallic talons, "Such an interesting couple. Psycho murderer," he pointed to Cicero, then to Jade, "...and pathetic excuse for a hero."

     "What would you know!?" Jade snapped, "You're a rat! You literally live in the sewers because you're a traitorous backstabber!"

     "Me!?" he laughed, "Oh, you must be talking about the ginger over there."

     Jade wrinkled her brow and glanced at Cicero from the corner of her eye. He seemed pale.

     "He's covered in the blood of your friends," Krow disapprovingly shook his head, "Impulse problems, for sho. I get it though. I don't think I could control myself around someone as fine as you, either..."

     Jade ignored the nasty compliment and looked down at Cicero's legs. His breeches were spattered with fresh blood. Her eyes then drifted up to the blade on his back.

     "...deadly mistakes?" she asked in a low tone.

     Cicero couldn't reply. There was nothing he could say. The rush of his kills had almost completely worn off and he felt weak with withdrawal. 

     Jade took a few steps back from him, a look of distrust on her face. "Did you kill one of the guild members?" she asked, suddenly feeling more afraid of him than the target.

     "Three!" Krow laughed, "It was magnificent! I saw it through the wall! I saw the whole thing!" He clapped his hands, "This man is NUTS."

     "Jade, I-" Cicero tried to think of something to say but stopped when she angled her dagger at him, "It's... it's this sword... I swear, something is-"

     "Shut it," she hissed as she continued to back away, "I don't know you..."

     "Kill him," Krow danced in place a little, "Kill the crazy! Kill him dead! Beauty versus the Betrayer!"

     "Jade," Cicero's head was beginning to throb like a hangover,  "We can talk about this after..."

     Taking advantage of the distraction, Krow suddenly launched forward, kicking the torch into a puddle just before snatching Jade's dagger from her grip. She was so stunned by the sudden movement that she didn't even have time to react. Cicero reached for his sword but wasn't fast enough. Krow ducked as he came up on him and sank the dagger into his right thigh before scaling up the wall behind him like a rodent. The torchlight rapidly faded on the wet floor causing Jade to lose sight of the target again.

     Cicero yelped in pain and fell to his knees, holding tightly to the hilt of the dagger that was deeply embedded into his leg. He knew if he pulled it out, the wound would hemorrhage. 

     Jade's mind was going a mile a minute. She was unarmed and didn't have anyone she could trust. She wanted to get out of there and forget the entire mission. She wanted to get away from all of the insanity and death. Maybe Cicero was right for wanting a normal life. She felt too old for this shit.

     Krow scaled the walkway above before dropping down behind Jade again. He shoved her into the wall and pinned her with his clawed hands. Though he was much smaller than her, his agility and unpredictable presence was intimidating.

     "Come on, girl... you don't need that one-legged freak," he said in a sly tone, "How about you and I dip back into that closet over there? I'll show you what a real man feels like."

     Jade's fear instantly turned to fury. She lifted her leg, kneeing him in the crotch as she simultaneously spat in his face. Krow gagged in pain and aggravation, immediately releasing her. He slashed his metal talons across her stomach, ripping through her leathers and drawing blood.

     Cicero watched the movement in the shadows and instantly saw red. He ripped the dagger from his leg and stood. Pure adrenaline numbed the pain as he sprinted across the room and swiftly slammed the blade down into the back of Krow's neck. Jade screamed as blood splattered across her face. Cicero grabbed the small Redguard by the arm and flipped him to the ground, jumping on top of him. He began stabbing him in the chest repeatedly while panting in frustration.

     Jade wiped the blood from her face and began backing away. She was having a flashback to the cellar... watching him pummel her uncle to death. It was the same blind, violent madness.

     Out of breath, Cicero finally dropped the dagger and weakly stumbled to his feet. The target was dead. Very... very dead. This was bad. The pain in his leg began to throb. He placed his hand over his thigh to apply pressure and glanced back at Jade.

     "No more," he said in a deep, winded voice, "I can't do this anymore..."

     Jade stared back at his silhouette, "Neither can I. You're sick..."

     Cicero nodded, "I know. But I can't have you willingly putting yourself into danger like this."

     "You are the danger!" she shouted then pointed to Krow, "He was to be apprehended alive! You can't even control yourself anymore!"

     "..."

     "And... you killed three Thieves Guild members!? Who!? Who were they? What did they do to deserve that?"

     "..."

     "I'm done."

     "Wait," Cicero attempted to walk toward her but paused as the pain surged through his leg, "I'm just trying to protect you..."

     "No you're not!" she cried, "You don't care about me! You only care about your investment inside of me!"

     Cicero began to wobble as he was beginning to feel lightheaded from blood loss.

     "I'm no longer your precious Listener," she continued, "Once this burden is born, how do I know you won't just snap and kill me too once you have what you want from me!?"

     Cicero slowly lowered to the floor. It was getting more difficult to apply pressure to the wound as he grew weaker. His eyes trailed away from her furious stance in the shadows.

     "I'm done with the Brotherhood," she placed her hand over the torn fabric of her armor, "I'm done with you."

     Cicero closed his eyes tightly as he exhaled. Her words hurt more than the injury. Hot tears streamed down his cheeks. He wanted to grab her and shake some sense into her. He wanted to explain why he needed to protect her and that he would never harm her. He wanted to tell her why he had such a hard time talking to her. Why he wanted to save her from her past... he was in love with her. 

     Madly in love.

     Jade retrieved her dagger from the floor beside him and headed up the stairs as the last embers from the torch began to die. Her footsteps faded and she was gone. 

     Cicero was alone. Again.

>>>New character added to the Character Guide Book: Krow

Chapter Text

     Warm water splashed over Cicero's face startling him back to consciousness. He was lying on his back at the bottom of the stairs in the Ratway Vaults. It took a moment for his eyes to focus as the stream of water continued to trickle over his face. His senses began to return and the pain from the stab wound in his thigh burned and throbbed. Weakly, he lifted his hand to wipe his face when the pungent scent finally registered. It was urine.

   "Well, well, well. Lookie who's awake," a male voice echoed off the walls around him.

     Cicero gasped and spit, turning his face away from the stream of piss as his eyes began to burn. A lit torch moved closer illuminating his surroundings. Several silhouettes of Thieves Guild members stood around him. The one off to his left, the wood elf Niruin, whom Cicero had seen when first entering the cistern, was the pisser.

     Brynjolf handed the torch to another member and gestured to Niruin to 'put it away'. He did as he was told. Cicero gagged and continued to spit, wiping his face frantically. He could feel it in the back of his nose seeping into his throat. He attempted to throw up but merely dry heaved causing him to clench up as pain radiated through his leg.

     "Did Lady Jade do this to you?" Brynjolf asked as he stood over him, "She said you were dead. You don't look dead."

     When Cicero was finally able to catch his breath, he rolled his head back to look up at him. He inhaled sharply, refusing to reply. His body was incredibly weak from blood loss. 

     Brynjolf crouched beside him and leaned in to look the murderer in the eye.

     "You probably wish you were though, eh?" he said under his breath, "But fortunately for you, the Thieves Guild abides by the general rule of no murder. That's the job of the Brotherhood," he flicked Cicero's shoulder cuff with the faded symbol of the Black Hand imprinted on it, "You'd know that, though, wouldn't you?"

     Cicero remained still, trying to breathe through his mouth to avoid the stench of urine in his nose. He was anemic, but he was also emotionally drained. The combination of the blood loss, withdrawal from the essence of the Ebony Blade, and Jade's fuck-off speech had him barely holding on to the will to live. He didn't care what the guild had in store for him. Whatever it was, he surely deserved it.

     "Tell me, lad," Brynjolf said in a calm tone while staring him directly in the eye, "Why did you do it?"

     Cicero continued to breathe deeply and slowly through his teeth. He had no answer. Nothing he could say would help the situation. Whatever Jade told them was enough.

     Brynjolf waited a moment longer for a reply before standing back up and holding his hand out to someone just out of Cicero's peripheral. He was handed a long sword and stepped back over. Cicero's heart began to race when he realized that it was the Ebony Blade. Brynjolf pointed the sword down at him and placed the narrow tip at the base of Cicero's left nostril.

     "You don't have to answer," he turned the blade slightly causing him to flinch, "You will have plenty of time to reflect on your past transgressions in the Riften jail"

     As if on cue, a clattering of booted footsteps began to descend the stairs behind them. Cicero's eyes were fixated on the shaft of the blade as he wondered how steady Brynjolf's hand was.

     "You made a grave error spilling the blood of the guild, lad. We run this town. We control the goings-on. We may lurk in the shadows, but we have friends in high places... and these friends like order and justice," Brynjolf flicked his wrist slightly, slicing the corner of Cicero's nostril causing him to yelp in pain. He grabbed his face, covering his nose as the blade was handed over to one of the Riften guards who had joined them.

     "This is him?" a woman asked descending the steps in the shadows. One of the guards accompanying her held up a torch to light her path.

     "Aye," Brynjolf crossed his arms and stepped back for her to see, "Dark Brotherhood."

     "Is that so?" the woman had long hair as dark as the night. Her expression was passive but her eyes showed a glint of power. This lady was important.

     She stepped over to Cicero and knelt down as if she was inspecting a dead body, "What happened to his leg?"

     "Not sure," Brynjolf replied, "Perhaps Vex was lucky enough to stick him before he carved her up." His voice was firm, but he was visibly upset. He clenched his lips together tightly trying to ignore the lingering image of his friends' butchered bodies forever burned into his mind.

     "And him?" The woman nodded her head past Cicero to a shadowy pile near the wall.

     "Krow. The rat," Brynjolf explained, "The Dragonborn came down here to off him for us. This murderer here was in her company."

     The woman glanced back down at Cicero, "How do you know the Dragonborn?"

     He slowly lowered his hands from his face and lifted his eyes to meet her probing gaze. She was quite intimidating, to say the least. Who was she?

     "Did you not hear me, you soulless swine?" she grunted.

     Cicero moved his dry lips a little, mouthing out words. She squinted and turned to one of the guards. The guard shrugged. She then looked back down at Cicero, "Speak up, skeever."

     The guard with the torch stepped over to her, "Mrs. Black-Briar... Ma'am. Perhaps we should beat it out of him? I'd be more than happy to volunteer my fist."

     That voice... Cicero recognized that voice.

     "Shut up, Grey-Cock," she snapped, "Did I give you permission to speak?"

     "N-no, ma'am." The guard fell silent and took a few steps back. 

     Black-Briar... Cicero knew that name also. It was the name of the family that basically ran Riften from behind the curtain. Easily the most influential clan in Skyrim. This was Maven. She was the matriarch of the Black-Briars and not only did she have the Thieves Guild in her pocket but the law as well. She also apparently had some ties with the Falkreath Sanctuary members of the Dark Brotherhood before... well, before Cicero. Regardless, this was not a woman he wanted to be noticed by.

     Maven, still kneeling, turned her gaze back to him, "How do you know the Dragonborn and why were you with her?" she raised her voice.

     Cicero licked his cracked lips and mouthed out some words again. Maven attempted to read what he was saying but couldn't make it out. She was growing impatient.

     "Spill it, worm!" she snapped, "I have ways to make vermin like you speak!"

     Cicero lifted his chin and exhaled adding a whisper to his words, but it was still unclear. Maven grunted and leaned in to listen.

     "...Hail Sithis, bitch," he said in a scratchy voice.

     Mrs. Black-Briar clenched her lips together in a frustrated pucker and promptly stood up. She sharply nodded at the guards and pointed at Cicero.

     "Take him."

     One of the guards stepped over and grabbed him under the arms to lift him up.

     "Throw him in a cell," Maven headed for the stairs, taking the torch from Urf, "One ration a day. Let him rot."

     "What should we do about the Brotherhood?" Brynjolf asked as she moved past him.

     "I will look into this," she replied, "The Dark Brotherhood I knew was purified. This asshole isn't one of them," she stopped at the foot of the steps and glanced back at Cicero, "Judging by his armor style, he's either an imposter or from Cyrodiil... that in itself raises a whole new line of questions."

     Urf waited for Maven to ascend the steps before stepping up to Cicero who was hanging weakly in the other guard's grip.

     "See what crazy gets you?" Urf said in a snide tone, "Crazy gets you arrested," he leaned in close to Cicero's face, "Crazy gets your ass bea- UGH! Why does he smell like pee!?"

     Cicero smirked and spit on Urf's mask. The sound of several swords unsheathing at once rang out around him. Urf stumbled back in horror as if he just had acid thrown in his face. He gagged and huffed under his helmet.

     "Did you just spit pee at me!?" he cried out, "Was that pee? Is his spit made of pee? What was that!?"

     The other guards struggled not to laugh. Urf was not amused. He clenched his fists and lunged at Cicero kneeing him between the legs. The guards' laughter amplified as Cicero's smile vanished as he threw up whatever little was in his stomach. The pain in his crotch was worse than the pain in his leg causing him to quickly blackout.

~

     "Thought I killed you," Urf's voice said from nearby, "You've been in and out of it for a few days."

     Cicero groaned feeling stiff. He was on his back again staring at the ceiling of a jail cell. His groin no longer hurt, but his throbbing leg quickly reminded him of what had happened.

     "Eat," Urf dropped a dirty wooden tray on the floor outside of the bars. Cicero lifted his head a little to look. Just a hard piece of bread and a half-eaten apple. He let his head fall back with a thud against the straw-covered floor.

     "Mrs. Black-Briar doesn't want you dead," Urf crossed his arms, "Not yet, anyway. She's got some questions for you about your so-called 'Brotherhood'."

     "Maven can suck my broken dick," Cicero mumbled and stiffly pulled himself into a sitting position.

     "Not wise to piss off the Black-Briars," Urf continued, "Death would be more favorable."

     "I'm not afraid of death," he slid his hand over the clean wrapping on his thigh.

     "Yeah, Hail Sithis and all that shit, right?"

     "Who bandaged my leg?"

     "You Brotherhood cultists are worse than the faithless Imperial Legion," Urf ignored the question, "It's one thing to deny Talos... it's a whole nother to worship nothingness. How does that even work? I mean, if Sithis is the Void and the Void is non-existence... then when you die, you become nothing? Why would anyone prefer that over drinking and eating in Sovngarde for all eternity? Even the Dreamsleeve or whatever is better than that... don't you get to come back with a new body or something?" Urf continued to ramble on.

     Cicero felt his chest tighten a little as everything began coming back into perspective. What happened to Jade? Where did she go? He felt so helpless. He wanted to look for her and explain that he never meant to scare her. He tried to put together an apology and explanation in his mind but he couldn't seem to focus. He hadn't eaten in recent memory. His head was pounding and his mouth felt painfully dry.

     They were clearly torturing him. The most basic method in the torturer's handbook- which he'd actually read several times while protecting the Night Mother in Cheydinhal- was starvation. They wanted to break him. Make him ravenous to the point that he'd answer anything they asked with the promise of a bite to eat.

     Cicero's eyes shifted to the wooden tray again. Don't play their game. He had gone over a week without a bite to eat in his youth. He lived off of stagnant water collected in the cracks of the floor at the old Sanctuary when it was too dangerous to leave. Sure, he got dysentery a few times, but he lived. His love of the Brotherhood gave him strength. The Night Mother gave him strength. His purpose in life, to protect her remains and find the Listener, had kept him going. He was not going to give Black-Briar any information about the new Dark Brotherhood or Jade's affiliation. He wasn't sure what they already knew, but he wasn't going to cooperate regardless.

     "-And why do you guys have so many betrayals? My old man used to tell me about the crazy stuff you assassins do to each other. Aren't you supposed to be a family or something? Well, I guess that makes sense. I fight with my cousin all the time. He's a Whiterun guard. Said he didn't want to deal with all the crime in Riften. So I says to him, I says-"

     "By the Gods, shut up!" Cicero snapped glaring up at him. He was beginning to think that Urf was part of the torture process.

     "Rude," the guard shrugged, his expression unreadable under his mask, "Then talk to yourself. See what I care."

     "Oh, I will! Cicero is very good at talking to himself. Oh, ho! Yes, he is!"

     "Good. I don't like talking to nutters anyway," Urf kicked the wooden tray away from the bars, spilling the bread and apple onto the dirty floor, "I'd rather be off fighting dragons."

     "I hope you get eaten," Cicero's hunger was making him more irritable than normal, but in his defense, his entire life up to that point justified it.

     "That reminds me," Urf huffed, "It's lunchtime. I have a delicious roast with my name on it."

     Cicero curled his lip, "Even I wouldn't eat a piece of meat that says 'Grey-Cock' inscribed on it."

     Urf stared at him, blinking several times, "Why would you inscribe words on a roast?"

     Cicero opened his mouth to retort but instead released a sigh, too tired and weak to even try.

     "Enjoy your bread," Urf kicked the stale loaf back toward the bars before turning to leave the hall. 

     Cicero rubbed his leg again and picked at the linen wraps covering his wound. He began to devise a plan in his head about how to survive this torture just to spite Maven. Frankly, he didn't care if he lived or died at that point. But if his existence meant thwarting her retaliation against the Brotherhood, then he'd fight to the bitter end.

     The air suddenly became heavy. The feeling was familiar. It felt like time was standing still. The dust particles in the air seemed to freeze in space. Everything gradually grew dark with a dense unnatural umbra. It was just like in his dream when the Void opened up. All of the sounds in the jail fell into pure silence. It was so quiet that he could hear the blood rushing in his ears.

     "No..." he whispered and attempted to stand, "Dread Father...? Is... is it time already?"

     "Don't be an idiot," Mother's voice broke the silence. She stepped up to the bars with her arms crossed. She looked rightfully upset.

     "Mother!" Cicero wobbled to his feet and staggered over, catching himself on bars, "Dear sweet Mother! You've come for foolish Cicero!"

     "Foolish isn't the word," she scowled at him, "I should have you strung up by your toes and stoned."

     "Yes, Cicero deserves that. I deserve anything you feel appropriate, even eternal damnation..."

     "Why are you talking like that again, child?"

     "Cicero missed you, Mother..."

     Mother's frown contorted into a look of concern, "You used that damned blade again, didn't you?"

     "I'm sorry... Cicero betrayed Mother's trust. He deserves no forgiveness."

     "You have decimated our relationship with the Thieves Guild, and by extension, the Black-Briar family." 

     Cicero nodded weakly, "Cicero is crying but he's too dehydrated to shed actual tears..."

     "My dear..." Mother sighed and reached through the bars to touch his cheek, "I will not tolerate your frustrating insubordinate behavior impeding my Uprising... The influence of that blade has a hold on you, but I am your matron. You will obey only me..."

     "Yes, Mother... Cicero is weak. Weak of mind, but also body," Cicero quivered as he began to lose his balance.

     "You have always been a loyal servant. You are a good child; I know you better than anyone. Even yourself." She sighed, "Let's get you home. Mother will fix this..."

     Cicero felt like his heart was about to beat out of his chest. Hearing those words from her... such redemption for his broken soul.

     "Thank you, Sweet Mother! Cicero doesn't deserve your kind mercy!" he groveled.

     The shadows suddenly began to shift around them. Gradually, the hulking form of Wrath materialized behind Mother. Cicero stepped back from the bars feeling intimidated. The pain in his leg radiated with the movement causing him to collapse to his knees. He grimaced but never took his eyes off of the massive avatar approaching the bars. 

     The cell door spontaneously began to dissolve under a glowing red aura. The bars crackled and flaked away like ashes.

     Wrath stepped into the newly opened cell, towering over the small Imperial.

     "...Mother...?" Cicero squeaked feeling like a baby rabbit about to be stepped on.

     "Be gentle," she instructed her giant minion, "His mortal body is injured."

     Wrath grunted, almost angst-like, and stooped down to pick Cicero up like a tiny rag doll.

     "Don't give me attitude," Mother hissed, "You harm him further and I'll have you dismembered and fed to the skeevers."

     What the-?

>>>New character added to the Character Guide Book: Maven Black-Briar

Chapter Text

     "Take him down to the dining table," Mother instructed, "He needs to eat."

     Wrath carried Cicero down the steps of the Sanctuary into the main hall. The strange haziness and heavy air began to lift and everything seemed to fall back into place around them. Cicero squinted as the dim light from the fireplace brightened gradually. Had he passed out again? How did they get back to Dawnstar so quickly? He couldn't remember even leaving the jail.

     Wrath set him down in a chair at the table in the center of the room and leaned down over his shoulder to whisper, "If it were up to me, you'd be stripped of your skin and hung from the rafters to rot."

     A chill ran up Cicero's spine. It was like death itself had made a verbal threat. He knew it wasn't actually the Dread Father speaking. Wrath just spoke for him, not unlike the Listener speaking for the Night Mother... but it didn't make the threat any less horrifying. 

     Wrath slowly leaned away. Cicero hesitated before glancing back only to be startled to notice that the giant daedra had vanished. Only a slightly shadowed distortion lingered in the air for a brief moment, suggesting where he once stood.

     "Get the Keeper some food," Mother called to Sage who was sitting by the fireplace warming his hands.

     Sage glanced over at Cicero, with a hint of surprise on his face, "What took you guys so long?" he asked, climbing to his feet, "Was the target that hard?"

     "Huh...?" Cicero was still trying to orient his mind to the transition. He felt like he had left his brain back in Riften.

     "You two have been gone for almost a week," Sage sighed, heading over to the cooking station, "The Wrath performed the ritual on the four vessels. We couldn't wait for the fifth. He's pissed."

     Clearly.

     "The final vessel has expired," Mother explained as she filled a cup with water from a bowl near the cooking fire, "Wrath has gone to retrieve it. This will delay our progress but everything is still on track."

     "Expired?" Sage scoffed in amusement, "How'd that happen?"

     Cicero didn't reply. Mother placed the cup of water in front of him and took a seat on the other side of the table. "Trouble with the Dragonborn," she spoke for him, "She's gone rogue."

     Sage dropped a wooden spoon in an over-dramatic fashion, "Rogue? Our thoughtful and predictable Jade? I can't imagine..."

     Cicero glared at the sarcastic elf over the edge of his cup as he drank. He was grateful for Mother to cover for him but Sage's attitude was testing his last nerve.

     "Cicero! Cicero! Cicero!" Ruby's sweet tiny voice cheered from across the room. She sprinted toward them with her hands out and fingers spread. Cicero quickly set his cup down and braced for impact. As if weightless, she glided into his arms and buried her face into his shoulder. She was literally bouncing with excitement to see her friend again.  Sage scowled and picked up the spoon just as dramatically as he had dropped it.

     Cicero hugged her in return, "Hi to you, too, little snow flurry."

     Ruby suddenly pulled back and scrambled to her feet again to show off her new clothes. It was a beautiful azure and rose-colored jester's motley with a low-cut top and very form-fitting. Very... alluring. She seemed quite proud of herself. 

     "W-...wow," Cicero was unable to find the words, all while fully aware that the Night Mother was only a few feet away. He tried to keep it professional.

     "Isn't it great?" Sage's sarcastic tone returned as he lumbered over with a bowl of stew in hand, "She made that outfit herself... out of a silk dress I bought for her." He dropped the bowl on the table next to Cicero, some of the stew splashed over the side, "She apparently has a thing for clowns."

     "Ruby for Cicero happy!" She curtsied with a bright smile on her face.

     "You look adorable," Cicero said weakly. Perhaps it was everything he'd been dealing with recently, but he felt on the verge of tears.

     Ruby presented the jester hat she had previously made for him and placed it lovingly on his head. Oddly, it seemed quite appropriate for how much of a fool he felt at that moment.

     Cicero saw that she was also wearing the gold and ruby necklace he had given to her. His eyes then drifted down to Ruby's top noticing something but quickly glanced away so as not to give the wrong impression.

     "Your blouse is wet," he said passively and glanced away.

     "Yup," Sage chimed in again, "Since you've been gone, we've confirmed our midwife theory," he dropped a spoon in the bowl haphazardly, splashing stew again.

     Cicero flinched, "Meaning what?"

     "Wet nurse," Mother clarified as Sage respectfully placed a bowl in front of her as well, "Her unique empathy was evidently triggered by Jade's untimely pregnancy. It's become abundantly clear that our little snow elf was a caretaker in her past, likely for expectant mothers and infants, which is wonderful because if anyone needs taking care of, it's you."

     Awkward.

     Cicero closed his eyes and furrowed his brow. He didn't want to be taken care of. He was broken, sure, but he'd always been that way. Being put back together would only bring about a whole new set of problems for him. He lived to serve others until his dying breath. The Keeper doesn't need keeping.

     "Speaking of Jade," Sage butted in once again, "If she's not coming back, does that mean that there's an open position in the ranks? I've been an initiate for quite a while... I think I've been fully initiated, don't you think?"

     Cicero didn't hear Mother's answer. He couldn't hear it. All he could hear was his own screaming in his head. He still felt trapped. His inability to help Jade was torturing him. He knew how careless she was. He had seen her literally get eaten by a dragon right in front of him. How was she going to survive without him now? Who was going to be there to save her ass when she got in over her head? What's going to happen to her in a few months when she is unable to wear proper armor to protect her body? 

     Jade would never settle down. She'd made it very clear to him how much she hated the idea of being normal. She'd rather die horribly in a field covered in the blood of her enemies than surrounded by family in her bed at an old age. But that was typical of Nord culture. Just like Orcs, Nords never liked the idea of slowing down. You were to die in battle or die a disgrace. Cicero once subscribed to this way of life, but the older he got and the more he lived through... the less charming such a tragic end felt.

     "I need to lay down," Cicero muttered and pushed the bowl of stew away. He gently moved Ruby aside and limped his way toward the living quarters.

     Mother sighed and shook her head. Whatever that Dragonborn did to his heart was not going to bode well for the focus of the Brotherhood's future. This last mission was proof of that. Women were a distraction. Emotions get in the way and irrational decisions are made based on primal interests. It was for the best that Jade was gone. She'd served her purpose as the Listener. Her presence was no longer needed. Time to move forward.

~

     Cicero stood beside his bed and began removing his armor while leaning on the nightstand for support. His stomach growled but the thought of eating made him nauseous. Whatever the initiate was using in his meat stews not setting well with him recently. 

     As he began unbuckling his belt he noticed movement on the corner of his eye. Ruby slowly shuffled in with her head down and a somber look on her face.

     "Ruby, my snowflake, I'm sorry..." Cicero sighed, "Cicero isn't feeling well... you look beautiful and I appreciate y-"

     Ruby reached out and helped loosened his belt with her fingertips, though her gaze seemed distant. Cicero looked down without finishing his thought. She lightly placed her other hand over his emaciated abs. Her light touch gave him chills.

     What was this about? Ruby loved to cuddle and cling to him constantly, but this... this was something different. The little snow elf was acting rather out of character.

     Ruby lifted her eyes to meet his as she pulled down slowly at his pants. Cicero held eye contact with her. Her red iris sparkled slightly. Cicero's gaze naturally moved to her cleavage framed by the silk of her motley. As much as Jade openly flaunted her bust, there was something about Ruby's innocence that made hers seem all that more taboo.

     The awkward yet tempting moment seemed to drag on until curiosity got the best of him. Cicero lifted his hand cautiously as if he was afraid of scaring her. He gently hooked his finger in the front of her blouse and began pulling it down to expose more soft skin.

     This felt wrong. Not wrong like sleeping with Jade while she was emotionally vulnerable and drunk... but wrong because he didn't see Ruby that way. She was pure and precious. Untouched and unaffected by the filth around her. She was more like a little sister that needed protection, not some on-demand sex slave...

     Cicero retracted his hand. He couldn't do it. He shouldn't do it. Despite recent events, he was in love with Jade. He'd been in denial that he could fall in love with a woman as pretentious and egotistical as her... but in the last few months, he'd seen a whole hidden world deep inside that she tried desperately to bury. Cicero longed to dive in and explore.

     Ruby noticed his attention wandering so she knelt down and focused on removing his pants.

     "Ruby!" he jumped in surprise by her sudden movement, "Why are you doing this?"

     She looked up at him, "Ruby for happy Cicero," she replied.

     "You're trying to make me happy? You don't need to do it like this. This isn't you. Cicero doesn't need-"

     His mind went blank as he felt her warm lips upon him. He lifted his head and stared into space finding it hard to breathe. He blinked slowly for a moment before he could find enough brain power to pull away from her and cover himself.

     "Nope," he said simply and quickly readjusted his breeches, securing his belt. Ruby slowly stood looking a bit ashamed and defeated. Cicero gave her a stern expression but found it difficult to be serious with her looking so adorable in her hand-sewn motley.  

     He sighed and shook his head to reiterate his disapproval and carefully climbed onto the bed to let his leg rest. He tried to avoid eye contact with her by turning on his side to face the wall, hoping she'd get the point without further awkwardness. A moment later, the bed shifted and he could feel her warmth against his back.

     "Cicero is sad," she said softly, "Ruby help... happy for Cicero?"

     "Cicero is sad, yes," he replied flatly.

     "Ruby help. Like Jade. Make happy for Cicero." She rested her hand on his shoulder.

     Cicero didn't reply. She probably knew exactly how Jade made him feel when she was close to him. He never acted upon it nor spoke a word of it... but if anyone could tell, it was Ruby with her empathy. She wanted to make Cicero feel the way he felt around Jade, even if it meant trying to be sexy. She didn't seem to understand that it wasn't Jade's sexual nature that attracted him. It was her mystery. He wanted to solve her.

     "Jade is gone," he finally mumbled, "Jade left. Jade is not coming back."

     "Baby?"

     "Baby, too. Baby and Jade. Kind of a package deal."

     "No Cicero baby? Cicero sad..."

     He found himself getting angered by the repetitive exchange. Cicero knew that Ruby didn't understand social things like this and it just wasn't worth the headache of trying to explain through the language barrier. He also knew how excited she was about the idea of caring for a baby. So now he felt even worse that his foolish actions have hurt her as well.

     Ruby suddenly pulled his shoulder, forcing him to turn to face her. The strength she used was not at all how she normally touched him, but with how everything had been going, he wasn't surprised. Cicero begrudgingly obliged and rolled onto his back to give her his full attention. She had a blank expression on her face. It was so strange to not see her with a smile.

     "What?" Cicero said in a flat, almost demanding tone.

     Ruby leaned over him as if trying to give him a hug and tucked her face into his neck. Cicero sighed and rubbed his hand on her back. She was so soft against his aching body. When she lifted her head to look at him, he opened his mouth to speak but was instantly interrupted as she leaned in for a kiss. Cicero didn't move, unsure of how to handle the rapidly deteriorating situation. 

     When it came to kissing, Ruby was clearly inexperienced, not that he had room to talk. He was fortunate that Jade had never mocked him for his lack of skill. It just wasn't something he ever had a chance or reason to practice.

     "Ruby," he mumbled patiently,  "You don't seem to understand... that Cicero is fighting every genetically ingrained urge of his male anatomy to not just rip off that cute little outfit you no doubt spent many hours making..." he said awkwardly as she relentlessly continued to press her lips against his.

     His frustrations were not the only thing that grew. His mind wasn't in it, but his body somehow found enough blood to function again. She either didn't understand his verbal plea, or she was simply determined to get a reaction.

     That was enough. Cicero's pent-up tension gave way to frustrated instinct as he placed his hand on the back of her head and finally engaged in the kiss. 

     When his hand began to reach down to his breeches, Ruby pulled back and smiled down at him, "Cicero happy?"

     "Oh, he's working on it," he huffed as he blindly clawed at his belt.

     She sat up to help him, "Ruby to make happy for Cicero. Ruby give for baby."

     Cicero paused and looked up at her, "What?"

     "Ruby make Cicero happy to give for baby," she blissfully touched the side of his face, "Ruby is happy."

     Cicero stared at her in disbelief as he struggled to process her words. He then moved her hand away from his belt, "No, Ruby. Just... no." He carefully lifted her off of him and climbed out of the bed, removing the jester cap from his head and placing it on the nightstand.

     Ruby looked confused, "Baby for Cicero?"

     He began to laugh hysterically as he once again secured his belt, "I never thought in my entire miserable life that I'd have to express this under any circumstance, but no, Ruby. No. I'm not going to make a baby with you!" he continued to cackle with a bewildered yet amused expression on his face. 

     Ruby's eyes welled up with tears. She couldn't understand why he was so upset with her. What was this strange and scary emotion he was projecting? She'd never felt anything like it. It frightened her. She could feel a deep sense of loss and fear and she just wanted to help... but this was something new.

     Cicero laughed so hard that he almost sounded like he was sobbing. He knew he was hurting her just by being in the same room. She didn't deserve to feel his fractured sanity deteriorating. He promptly turned to escape the increasingly uncomfortable situation and almost ran headlong into Sage who was standing just outside the door. With the initiate's slumped posture, he looked as if he'd been standing there for a while. Cicero immediately stopped laughing as they made eye contact. Sage's expression was cold and ominous yet he said nothing. The tension was palpable. 

     Neither moved, unsure of what the other might do until finally Cicero huffed through his nose and turned to continue down the hall.

     Sage continued to loiter silently until he no longer heard Cicero's limping footsteps. He then moved quietly to peer into the room to check on Ruby. She was sitting on the bed with her face red from embarrassment. Her wide and confused eyes glistened with tears as she fidgeted with the trim of her silk jester motley. Sensing Sage's anger, she glanced up at him in surprise.

Chapter Text

     It was well into the month of Frostfall and even for Skyrim, it was getting quite cold. Mother hugged her arms as she stepped out of the Sanctuary and scanned the area. The town of Dawnstar was quiet this afternoon. In fact, the Sanctuary itself had been very quiet and still the last few days, mainly because Jade wasn't filling the place with her drama and Cicero has gone missing shortly after. Mother had not seen him since the night they had returned from Riften.

     This was quite troublesome because the souls of the Ancient Blood were merged with their new vessels and were only days away from being ready to train. A necromancer was required to complete the transition for Krow since his vessel succumbed to its injuries sustained. Cicero may have been out of his mind when he killed the boy, but his knife work was always perfectly placed for the most efficient results.

     Mother made her way up to the coastline north of the Sanctuary and stared out across the water. Her Dunmer blood was telling her to go back inside and sit by the fire, but her patience had run out waiting for the Keeper's return. She knew he needed some space, but he was of no use to the Brotherhood if he was just going to wallow in self-pity. She'd seen him at his worst and understood how irrational he could be. To find Cicero, she had to think like Cicero. He was the master of hiding when things got bad, like an abused puppy.

     After Ruby and Babette searched the Sanctuary from top to bottom, Mother began to think that he had hidden in an area that they were unaware of. He knew the Sanctuary better than anyone and even made his own 'forced addition' giving him access to other rooms that had since been blocked off following the renovations. If that were the case, he may not be located until he wanted to be. Before assuming that, Mother decided to check outside. He wouldn't have wandered far with the pain from his leg wound.

     She casually walked along the shore holding her sleeves closed and making a mental note to acquire more appropriate attire for the season and her position. The shrouded robes did not provide nearly enough protection.

     Several meters up the coast, she noticed a humble tent made of loose pelts and corroded wooden planks that looked to have been there for quite some time. The small fire pit beside it was surrounded by empty wine bottles. Mother approached with caution. Fishermen, drifters, and even lovers looking for privacy had been known to make camp along the shore from time to time, so she knew to be wary.

     When she got close enough, Mother noticed that one of the bottles was smashed with a small amount of wine dripping out. She leaned down to peek into the tent.

     "I had a feeling," she said flatly as her eyes landed on the malnourished pathetic-looking man laying upon the soiled bedroll inside.

     Cicero's amber eyes appeared dim as he lifted them to meet Mother's. He cradled his leg; the bandages were dirty and stained with dried blood. His cheeks appeared sunken and a light layer of reddish-blond stubble covered his chin. He was a mess.

     "Mother...?" he mumbled and squinted one bloodshot eye.

     "You're drunk," Mother's voice was full of disappointment.

     "It hurts..."

     "Of course, it does, child. You probably have an infection from those filthy wrappings."

     "My heart," he groaned, rolling a wine bottle away before turning his face into the grimy bedroll.

     "Quit being dramatic," Mother knelt beside him. She hated seeing him like this. She had seen the depths of his depression more times than she could count and it was never pleasant. He asked so little of others and merely wanted to be important enough not to be disposed of. He wanted to be proud of his little role in life.

     "Cicero doesn't feel well, Mother..." he peeked one eye at her.

     Mother sighed, "That's what happens when you drink wine on an empty stomach."

     Cicero flicked the overturned wine bottle with his fingertip. He looked like he was on his own deathbed. It was quite possibly his intention to simply drink himself into a coma and let nature take its course.

     "Why are you out here?" Mother asked, genuinely concerned.

     "I'm hiding from Ruby..."

     "The Falmer? Why?"

     "...I-...Cicero hurts her, Mother..." his voice cracked a little, "Cicero hurts everyone he loves."

     "Well, you've yet to hurt me, but if you continue this pity party and disrupt my Uprising..." 

     "I've broken your trust and for that, I can never forgive myself..."

     "So what's your plan? Waste away here in a pool of your own filth and self-loathing?"

     "...Maybe."

     Mother frowned, "Is this about the Listener?"

     "...Maybe."

     "You let that harlot get to you, didn't you?"

     "...Maybe."

     "I thought you were stronger than that, Keeper," Mother tilted her head to try to meet his drifting gaze again, "Are you not a man?"

     "A man with a broken heart..."

     "Women are a distraction, my child. You have a responsibility to the Dark Brotherhood and it is going unfulfilled. Stop thinking with your genitals and go sharpen your blade. There's work to be done."

     Cicero stared up at her through tears that rapidly obscured his vision. Hearing those words from Zukira's voice felt like needles in his chest. She was the distraction that he had avoided throughout his youth. The irony stung.

     "...but I made a promise..." he mumbled, "What if something happens to her?"

     "You are not her Keeper, Cicero," Mother replied with authority, "She can take care of herself. She's the godsdamn Dragonborn. She lived her entire life before she met you, and she will continue to do it without you."

     Cicero closed his eyes and placed his hands over his face just as tears began to cascade down his cheeks.

     "Now what?" Mother wasn't being subtle with her impatience.

     "My child..." he squeaked, "w-... what about-"

     "The mortal body is disposable. As an assassin, you know this," she explained flatly, "Accidental offspring happen all the time, as you also know."

     Cicero frowned and lifted his head to look at her again. He used to feel the same about the unimportance of life. Mortality was fragile and temporary. We were all one within the Void. But with the sudden realization of becoming a father, something he thought he'd never feel, he began to question everything. Now a part of him would remain long after he was long gone. This concept caused him to honestly think about what it meant to be mortal... and if being a father somehow made him immortal through his child.

     "These words..." he grunted, "These words coming from a mother!?"

     "I sacrificed my children to the Dread Father because I understood that the obsession with holding onto mortality was a foolish concept," Mother replied, "I was tested and I passed. But you, my Keeper, are setting up to fail."

     Cicero cringed hearing that word. He hated failing at anything but that seemed to be all he was able to do anymore.

     "Get yourself together, child," Mother stood, "You have lost a lot of weight and your body is filthy. Sober up, eat, and bathe. I have a contract for you and we need to leave as soon as possible."

     Cicero lifted his head and wiped his greasy hair from his face, "Contract? A Black Sacrament?"

     "A personal contract," she explained, "This one has to be carried out by only you."

     "Where?" he weakly pulled himself to a sitting position.

     "Cyrodiil."

     A rush of excitement flowed through Cicero as he heard the name of his home province. He'd been away for over a year and never thought he'd return. The feeling of nostalgia was quickly replaced by memories of dread.

     "I can't go back there, Mother," he said rubbing his leg.

     "This isn't a vacation. I'm not asking if you want to go. I am telling you. You will escort me across the border. I have my own personal business to tend to as well."

     "But the-"

     "Keeper."

     "Yes, Mother."

     "Now get up and put on your happy face. You have a purpose still," she said in a serious tone.

     "I don't think I can walk..."

     Mother sighed, "Do you want me to send the Wrath to assist?"

     "Quite honestly, no."

     "I'll have the Falmer boil some water for a bath. And for the last time, you need to eat. If you pass out while on the road, I will consider it a form of insubordination."

     "Understood..."

     Mother looked him over once more before turning and walking out of view. Cicero heaved a sigh and sat silently examining how the sun's light scattered through the glass of the green wine bottles around him. He was struggling to find the energy to move. He'd been drinking for several days and he felt nauseous with every movement and his vision was quite blurry.

     Cicero's ears perked when he heard what sounded like running footsteps around the side of the tent. A bright pink and blue blob jumped in front of him and squealed. He squinted up as the outline of Ruby gradually came together. She must have followed Mother and was waiting for her chance to say hi. His cover was blown.

     "Cicero!" she yelped and dropped down into his arms, "Ruby misses Cicero..."

     His heart sank. Being near her, she could feel everything he was going through, but being away from her broke her heart. He weakly hugged her back. 

     Ruby suddenly lifted the handmade jester cap and placed it on his head. As always, she made sure to secure the earflaps lovingly while examining his face. Cicero knew he looked horrible. Like a living corpse caked in dried blood and tears... not to mention the smell of vomit on his breath and possibly urine in the bedroll. Yet she smiled anyway.

     "Ruby to clean Cicero. Fresh to happy for good feelings." She lightly rubbed her nose on his, "Love for Cicero. Bath and clean, ok?"

     Cicero wiped his eyes again and nodded a little. She truly enjoyed taking care of him. It was something she needed to do. Just as taking care of Jade was something Cicero needed to do. The Night Mother no longer needed the care. Not to the extent she did when she was merely a corpse, anyway.

     Ruby carefully climbed off of him and reached out to help. He accepted her assistance and got to his feet. She wrapped her arm around his waist allowing him to lean on her for support. He felt rather ashamed of how vulgar he must have smelled. 

     As the two made their way around the rock face to the front of the Sanctuary, something caught Cicero's eye from the cliff above the entrance. He glanced up to see what looked like... a Dwarf? No, no. That couldn't be. For one, they no longer existed and for two... this guy was rather tall and didn't really look completely elven either. 

     "Ruby?" Cicero asked quietly between his teeth, "Do you see a goggled Breton dressed in Dwarven robes up there or did I drink a bottle of absinthe by mistake?"

     Ruby didn't understand a lot of the words he said and just smiled. The strange lanky man realized that he had been spotted and quickly retreated out of view. Cicero didn't like the idea of someone being so close to the Sanctuary. Especially someone dressed as strangely as that freak... and this was coming from a guy who used to unironically dress as a jester.

---------------------------------

Chapter Text

     Jade fell against a fence post trying to catch her breath. There wasn't any cover around for her to take a moment to collect herself. She wiped her hair from her face and turned to look back up at the large silhouette gliding in the night sky above the farm. The dragon's hesitation to close in was a good sign that it was also fatigued. Its head would dip from time to time as it circled her. Jade's throat felt dry from excessive thu'um use. She had noticed that her shouts were not as strong or potent as they once were. Their effects rarely landed and when they did, they didn't last long. At this point, it was clear that she and the dragon had reached a stalemate yet neither was willing to back down. Cicero's archery would have been quite helpful...

     After the events in Riften a few weeks before, Jade had been making her way to Whiterun on foot. For some unknown reason, she was unable to summon Shadowmere and assumed it had something to do with her resignation from the Dark Brotherhood. But none of this explained her issues with her Dragonborn abilities lately. It had been a long and emotionally exhausting trip. She was tired and hungry, so a spontaneous dragon fight was the last thing she wanted to deal with.

     "Land your ass down here and stop being a coward!" she yelled to the skies. The dragon shouted back at her, its breath igniting a field of crops. Jade's stomach growled as watched the once edible harvest turn to ash. She barely had the energy to swing her blade let alone wrestle with a dragon. Thoughts of how to abandon the fight began to stir in her head. Normally, she would never pass up an opportunity to show off and completely obliterate an enemy, but she was so fatigued, and since no one was around to see, aborting the frustrating battle seemed like the better option.

     "Fine!" she barked, "Be a pussy! I don't even want your soul. I've got better things to do than stand out here and-" she paused as the dragon suddenly arched and began to nosedive toward her. She'd seen other dragons do this in the past as a last-ditch effort to end a battle, but it was usually at Cicero while she laughed from the safety of a cliff face. Unfortunately, in the field, there was nowhere to hide. She felt a jolt of terror flow over her as she turned to run and realized that she was surrounded by the flaming crops—so many regrets.

     The shadow of the impending doom fell over her and then everything went black.


     "Listener..." a deep, oddly familiar voice arose from nearby. It was comforting yet sort of ominous. Jade hadn't heard that voice in a long time. She opened her eyes to find herself laying on her stomach with her face in the dirt. Warm blood dripped down her forehead and over her left eye. There was a dull throbbing in her chest.

     "Your reckless ways are a threat to more than just yourself," the voice was coming from the fuzzy glowing outline of a man in her peripheral. Jade lifted her head and squinted, trying to get her bearings. The soft crackling and thick smoke from the burning crops quickly brought memories back of what had happened. She no longer heard the heavy beating of the dragon's wings.

     "W... where's the dragon?" she asked and began spitting dirt from her lips.

     "It was taken care of. You are safe."

     Jade carefully pulled herself up and immediately felt dizzy. She flinched and looked around as she slowly got to her feet. In the distance, she could see a dispursing group of what she assumed to be soldiers. Beyond their silhouettes was the outline of a large trading city against the night sky.

     "Whiterun..." she mumbled as she remembered where she was going.

     "Listener, you must heed my words-"

     Jade turned to face the glowing apparition as she quickly regained her composure. It was the spectre of Lucien LaChance, a once highly respected Speaker for the Dark Brotherhood over two hundred years ago. Much like Cicero, he was turned on by his fellow Brothers and Sisters who believed him to be a traitor as he continued to hold true to his beliefs and loyalties. He became a martyr in the name of the Dread Lord and this pleased the Night Mother. Lucien was rewarded with a seat of high standing in the Void and the honor of being a spectral assassin with the ability to return to Nirn as summoned to continue to serve the Dark Brotherhood.

     "I didn't summon you..." Jade grumbled as her gaze finally drifted to the frame of dragon bones barely visible within the smoldering crops. She must have been out for quite a while.

     "I was sent to protect you," Lucien said flatly.

     Jade glanced back at him, "Why? I didn't ask for help," she replied in a pissy tone and turned to make her way toward the city. She called over her shoulder, "I quit the Brotherhood. Didn't you get the memo? Shadowmere obviously did..."

     "You are still an asset to Sithis," he followed her, "I've been sent to make sure you remain alive."

     "Is that so?" Jade scoffed, "So you're like my little guardian now? Did Cicero put you up to this? I didn't think he had that kinda influence-"

     "The Wrath has instructed me to protect the child. She is an investment for the Dread Father."

     Jade stopped and glared off into the distance. Was that all she was anymore? Just a vessel for a child who was worth more to everyone else than she was? She suddenly turned to look at him.

     "You mean the 'sacrifice'?" she huffed, "The one you all want to rip from my body?"

     "We do as the Dread Father commands," Lucien replied calmly, "The child shares your blood, Dragonborn. This is of use to the Dark Brotherhood-"

     "And you want her because she will be easier to control than me, right? You assholes had your chance. I was the Listener but quickly got de-ranked and cast aside!" she frowned, "I'm not a damn minion. I'm the hero of Skyrim. I'm the most powerful being alive!"

     "The child-"

     "I don't care," she turned and began walking up the path again, "I'm not a disposable tool willing to give up everything for Sithis. You're thinking of Cicero."

     "The Keeper has served the Brotherhood well with his blind devotion and care for the Night Mother. He is held in high regard," Lucien continued to follow her, "This is also why Sithis finds use in the child."

     "Use? What use is a dead child?"

     "She will be unharmed. Her existence is a valuable asset."

     Jade turned an intense gaze to him again, "The Night Mother said that the baby was to be sacrificed. I know how this works. She killed her own children for Sithis..."

     "You are mistaken, Listener. The Wrath has made other plans, and we must abide-"

     "Why do you keep calling me that? I quit the Brotherhood! Done! No more shady assassin shit!" Jade snapped at him, "So by extension, this kid is out too!"

     "A deal has been made. A contract cannot be broken."

     "I didn't agree to anything," Jade lowered her tone and got right into Lucien's face, "I may not want this child, but I'm not going to just hand her over to you nutjobs. Even her father is a psycho I don't trust anymore. So go back to your little murder family and find another helpless baby to kidnap. I owe you nothing." Jade felt herself getting strangely emotional over the whole ordeal. Perhaps it was the hormones, or maybe she was actually starting to feel something for this poor kid who didn't ask for any of this—just another victim of those with power wanting to control her. Jade could relate all too well.

     Lucien placed his hand on her shoulder, "We are bound not by the blood that we share, but by the blood we shed."

     Jade felt a chill run up her spine from his ghostly touch. What did he mean by that? One thing she knew was that she was not going to give in to the Dark Brotherhood's demands. They would have to kill her before they'd get their hands on this baby. 

     She was on her own now. Without the Sanctuary to return to and after the alienation of her family in Riften, she was forced to look elsewhere for a place to call home. Ever since she was a teenager she had spent most of her time on the move; always traveling and never settling. But with this sudden pregnancy hanging over her head and her recent string of bad luck, she was beginning to think Cicero was right. She didn't have long before she would be unable to protect herself. Just the idea of it angered her and made her hate him even more. He did this to her. He put her in this vulnerable position... 

     Jade tried so hard to blame Cicero for everything. He was a good scapegoat. He always took it on the chin with a smile... but she couldn't even convince herself that he was just some crazy fool who always got in the way and made things more difficult. Why now? Why was she thinking about this now? Why did she care about the man behind the madness? Damn hormones.

     "Don't fear, Listener," Lucien interrupted her moment of self-reflection, "I have your best interests in mind. You will be safe."

     "Yeah, I'm sure," she grunted and continued to the city gate, "Well, my best interests right now would be for you to make yourself scarce. I can't exactly go around unnoticed with a glowing ghost assassin following me." She waited for a reply. A moment passed and she glanced back seeing that he was gone. Creepy. She began wondering if he was still watching her even after disappearing and started feeling paranoid. She didn't know much about Lucien LaChance's history beyond the stories she'd heard around the Sanctuary. He could be some sort of spectral pervert for all she knew.

     "Everything alright, citizen?" a guard asked as she passed through the city gate, "You appear to be injured."

     "Huh?" Jade glanced over at him realizing how spaced out she was. Probably a combination of her head wound, hunger, and sleep deprivation. She reached up and touched the stream of blood on her forehead.

     The guard stepped forward, "Would you like some assistance to the Temple of Kynareth? They can heal you." He sounded genuinely concerned.

     "Ah, no. That's alright," she sighed, "Just need to get some rest."

     "May I ask what happened? Was it bandits?"

     "Dragon bashed me."

     "Dragon!?" the guard gasped and leaned around the gate wall to look outside, "Around here?"

     "I took care of it," she smirked a little.

     "Alone!?"

     "Meh, just a blood dragon. Didn't need to call in the cavalry."

     He looked back down at her; his eyes sparkling from behind his helmet, "My cousin from Riften also fights dragons! He sent me a letter. He recently lost his job as a guard after a prisoner escaped under his watch so he's following his passion and going full time into dragon hunting. He thinks he could be the next Dragonborn."

     "Oh no," Jade curled her lip, "You're kidding..."

     "Not at all! Do you know what that means?"

     "We're all doomed?"

     "It means that I could be related to the Dragonborn! I might have some dragon blood running in my veins!" he cheered.

     Jade patted him on the arm, "Don't count on it," she mumbled and continued into town.

     "Dragonborn or not, he's going to be an amazing adventurer!" the guard continued to ramble with just as much enthusiasm as Urf had, "-And he's got this long ebony blade to fight dragons with. Said that it has daedric writing carved into the hilt. A super rare artifact!"

     Jade paused and turned to look at the guard, "An ebony blade?"

     "He's so lucky, I swear," the guard sighed, "...and what do I get? Guard duty."

---------------

>>>New character added to the Character Guide Book: Lucien LaChance

Chapter Text

     It was well after dark when Cicero and Mother had made it across the border into Cyrodiil. The Imperial checkpoints were becoming a hassle so they decided to cut through the mountains on foot to avoid further delays. Mother had mentioned the mission being time sensitive but didn't go into much detail. Cicero was used to working with very information. His ability to quickly adapt to any given situation was one of the things that got him noticed by the Black Hand in his youth. He was a problem solver by nature.

     Passing through the Jerall Mountains, the scenery from Skyrim to Cyrodiil didn't change much. It was still blisteringly cold and gray. The thick covering of trees began to give way to more open land as they neared the gates to the City of Bruma. Cicero felt a heavy weight on his chest upon seeing his childhood home again. He'd not been back within the city walls since the Sanctuary there had been purged and he was forced to move south to Cheydinhal. His memories of home were full of mixed emotions, mostly melancholy.

     As they trekked up the path in the dark silence, Mother could sense Cicero's anxiousness. She knew that bringing him here was a necessary evil and it would help him in the end. She reached out and hooked her arm around his. He glanced over to see her staring straight ahead with a calm expression. He bent his elbow and straightened his posture. 

     When they came to a slight turn in the road, Cicero suddenly stopped walking. His eyes were fixated on an old tree just off the path. It had several gashes in the trunk as if someone had attempted to chop it down long ago... or at least, took their aggression out on it. It was clear that the tree represented something painful for him that he had not yet fully processed. 

     Mother allowed him to linger a moment longer before gently tugging his arm. "Come," she said softly, "We need to get to an inn. We have more travel ahead of us tomorrow."

     Cicero clenched his jaw and nodded. He exhaled sharply and turned away from the haunting memories and continued to usher Mother toward the gates. As they approached, the guards stationed there seemed half asleep on the job, huddled over the lit brazier while facing away from the road... That was something else that hadn't changed. Though they were different recruits decades later, the Bruma gatekeepers were always unreliable.

     "Whoa, whoa, citizens," one of the guards jumped up when he finally noticed them approaching, "What's the business, here?"

     "Merely transients," Mother explained, "Just passing through; we've come seeking a bed for the night before continuing on our way in the morning."

     "Dressed a little suspicious, eh?" he tapped his fellow guard on the arm, "Strange armor... and is that a jester's cap?"

     "I recognize that insignia," the second guard chimed in suddenly becoming interested, "Dark Brotherhood. No way..."

     "Bed, my eye. You got some shady business, don't you?" the first guard said in a cocky tone, "Ain't been no Brotherhood activity here in decades."

     Cicero frowned.

     "Bringing some attitude with you as well?" the second guard said crossing his arms, "I should have you arrested out of sheer creepiness alone. What say you in your defense?"

     "We've broken no laws," Cicero grunted, "This is my home."

     "Is that so?" the first guard stepped closer, "She said you were just passing through. I've lived here my entire life. I don't recognize you."

     "He's been away on business," Mother interjected, "Time and experience will change a man. Now please, let us pass. It is late and we are tired."

     The first guard looked Cicero over momentarily before taking a step back in surprise, "Well, by the Nine... it's the creepy ginger..."

     "Which one?" the other guard was confused.

     "That bastard kid with the whore mother!" he chuckled in amusement, pointing at Cicero, "The one who off'd herself!"

     "You're kidding..." The second guard grabbed a torch from the nearby brazier and held it up to see better, "Nah, it couldn't be. Didn't he kill that Torygg kid and get hauled off?"

     Cicero was getting annoyed with how they were speaking as if he wasn't even there. Mother watched him in the corner of her eye. He may have no longer had the Ebony Blade, but she felt that he was still quite unstable. Though, this was Cicero's past from long before his time with the Brotherhood and coincidentally, how he came to join the ranks and fall under her service. This was none of her business.

     "Yeah, yeah," the first guard nodded, "You're that little psycho Imperial, right? Cicero was it?" He sounded like he was waiting for some sort of punchline.

     "Oh yes," Cicero finally chirped in an eerily playful manner, "I carved dear Torygg's tongue from his filthy vile mouth with a dull dinner knife and made him eat it."

     The guards fell silent. A subtle smile formed on the corner of Mother's mouth. This was the Cicero she knew.

     "It kept coming back up," he continued, "The damn kid wouldn't swallow it. So I just kept cramming it down in there," Cicero's expression became dark and wicked. The guards stared at him with trepidation in their eyes. All of the kids they had grown up with knew about the murder. How the tiny bastard orphan with the stringy red hair and the wild amber eyes had suddenly snapped one day. No one but Cicero knew what the bully said or had done to finally break him. All they knew was that the body was found at the foot of a statue in the center of town without a tongue.

     "Did you know you could still burp after you die?" Cicero sneered, "How ridiculous is that? Even after he'd bled to death, the stubborn sack of bile continued to lash his tongue at me."

     A long beat of silence followed. Cicero looked back and forth between the guards. They both took a few steps back and placed their hands on the hilt of their blades.

     "I ended up just feeding it to Old Agnar's dog," Cicero raised his brow as if provoking either of them to comment.

     "You'll have to excuse Dear Cicero," Mother finally chimed in, "As I've mentioned, he's quite fatigued from the long walk. It doesn't take much to agitate him."

     The first guard nodded nervously and stepped out of their way. Mother smiled warmly and hooked her arm under Cicero's as they continued into the city. The second guard watched them pass and waited until they were just out of earshot.

     "...I always let that dog lick my face," he shivered.

~

     The interior of the cramped City of Bruma had not changed a bit. Even the piles of snow seemed to still be gathered in the same places. Cicero was sure the small house he grew up in was still exactly the same. He wondered if a new family could be living in it, completely oblivious to the struggles that existed there decades before.

     At the local inn, Mother paid the innkeeper for a room. The place was very small and cramped just like the rest of the buildings in the city. It didn't have many rooms to begin with and only one had vacancy that night. Unfortunately, it also only had one bed.

     It was a given that Mother would take the bed leaving Cicero to bunk on the wooden floor. He was no stranger to substandard sleeping conditions and was just grateful to have a place to rest after the long trek through the mountains. Mother handed him one of the pillows as she began to turndown the bed.

     "How is this contract personal, Mother?" Cicero asked quietly, "I don't know anyone in Cyrodiil anymore. They've all passed." He felt silly saying this to someone he once knew from this province. But in reality, Zukira was also dead.

     "I will give you the details when we reach the Imperial City. I know that just being here is distracting for you, but you've handled worse," She turned and handed him one of the blankets.

     "I'll be alright," he sighed.

     She knew he wasn't. He was never alright. Mother lightly tapped her palm on his chest before turning to get into bed. The room was freezing, but again, he was used to it. He blew out the candle on the nightstand and quietly wrapped up in his blanket and laid down on the hard wooden floor. He buried his face in the straw-filled pillow and held his breath.

     Why had Mother brought him here? She knew what he had gone through growing up in this town. He used to talk to her corpse for hours at the old Cheydinhal Sanctuary while waiting for his Dark Siblings to return... but of course, they never did.

     How personal could this contract be that she refused to elaborate? The only personal matters he cared about anymore were with Jade. Oh, Jade... Where was she? Cicero turned on his side and pulled his knees in for warmth.

     That first night in Riften began to flow into his mind again.

     'I realized she was just as broken as I stared into her eyes as her abusive uncle bled out on the floor beside me. Without a word, I understood what he used to do to her... and why she always acted out the way she did. Her forceful attempts of seduction used to bother me. But I now understood that she had learned to use her body not just as a weapon but as a way to take back control. She fought to distance herself from being labeled a victim by taking control of the men in her life. She learned how to put them under her proverbial spell. She was dangerous that way. The blood of her dead husband on my hands was a testament to that... 

     It wasn't the alcohol nor my oath to serve the Listener. Bewitched by a simple wink and a bounce, I killed an innocent stranger for her amusement. Despite months of fighting it, I had unknowingly fallen under her spell. It was like a game for her and the game was rigged from the start. I am just as weak as all of the other men who have fallen victim to her allure.

     But everything changed the moment her Uncle Gogvir's body hit the inn floor. The way she looked at me... she wasn't Jade that night. She was Njadya. Sweet frightened Njadya. Her cold protective layer of spikes and horns fell away to reveal a soft warm center... Njadya wasn't demanding sex from me as Jade did. She was begging me to hold her.

     Those emerald green tear-filled eyes bore into my very soul. Her gaze ripped through me like a sharp poison-tipped blade. I felt no pain as the toxin seeped in and corrupted my mind. I felt high.

     Her skin was the color of rich cream and felt just as smooth. Her lips tasted like the sweetest of nectar. She offered herself to me like no other woman had before. She needed me. Not sexually. She needed me to be close to her. Me. Cicero. The Fool of Hearts. She needed me. Who was I to say no? 

     Oh, she smelled so good. Like lavender and nightshade. I knew that the encounter was a risk, but I'd be lying to myself if I said that didn't make it more tempting. It was wrong but felt so right. We fit together, physically, emotionally, rhythmically. We were in sync. No one in my life had ever been so close to me... trusted me so deeply. So deep. Warm. I could have stayed inside her forever. I could have died at that moment and considered my life a success. I'd kill for her a million times over. I have killed for her. I knew I needed her. She was the reason I existed and why everything had led up to that point.

     Her breath. Her gasps. I made her smile. I gave her a natural ecstasy. Her captivating eyes sparked up at me. Her lips and breasts glistened. How was I blessed to be so lucky? This vision of perfection who laid before me; she bore the blood of the ancients, the strength of a dragon, and the body of a goddess.

     I wanted it to last all night... so warm and soft— I was enveloped in euphoria. It felt like my very soul exited my body. Every muscle weakened throwing me into a state of vulnerable acceptance-...

     "Keeper." Mother's voice cut through the silence of the room, startling him.

     "Yes, Mother?" Cicero replied weakly.

     "I'd prefer it if you'd not do that while I'm in the room with you," she muttered from the darkness, "Put it away and sleep."

     "...Y... yes, Mother..." Cicero was mortified. He slowly pulled his hand from his pants and turned over onto his stomach burying his face in the pillow again.

Chapter Text

     The pleasant aroma of seasoned meat cooking called to Cicero from his bed. He found himself sitting up and pulling the soft linen sheets aside. His bedroom was of Cyrodiilic fashion with fine Imperial furniture. Everything was clean and undamaged. He stood up slowly and brushed the wrinkles out of his white dress shirt- wait a second. It was that dream again...

     Cicero rushed to the kitchen. Sure enough, a very pregnant Jade was standing at the wood stove preparing food just like before. She glanced over and smiled that unnatural smile at him.

     "Hey, you. You're finally awake," she said in a pleasant, un-Jade-like tone.

     "Jade..." Cicero exhaled softly as he reached out and pulled her into his arms without hesitation.

     "Oh," she jumped in surprise, "What's gotten into you?"

     "I'm sorry," he replied quietly, "I'm sorry I never said anything."

     Jade stared at him, confused, "Is something wrong, love?"

     Love? That didn't sound right. Cicero had to remind himself that this wasn't real... was it? No... no. He already knew what was going to happen. He'd been here before. But he wanted to do things his way this time.

     "I'm sorry I was unable to tell you how I felt... before," he was stumbling over his words, "I've been in denial and-"

     "Oh!" she gasped, "I forgot to tell you! Mother is here."

     "..."

     "She arrived this morning. She's in the family room. Go say hello. I think she wants to speak to you," Jade kissed him on the cheek and began to pull away.

     Cicero frowned but didn't let her go this time. She stared at him a moment longer.

     "Cicero... are you sure everything is alright?" she asked, sounding genuinely concerned.
He continued to hold her tightly. She timidly wrapped her arms around him to return the embrace but with much less passion.

     "Where are you...?" he whispered and tucked his face into the side of her neck. 

     Jade lifted her hand to stroke his hair. It felt so real. Was it real? Please let this be real...

     "Breakfast is burning, love," she mumbled as if not even hearing him.

     Finally, Cicero reluctantly let her go. As if a puppet, she turned back to the stove and began tending to the food again. His arms felt heavy as he stood there watching the stranger before him. This wasn't Jade. This wasn't the woman he fell for. He wanted that feisty, traumatized, broken woman that constantly found a reason to test him... not a housewife with no thoughts or opinions of her own. She still looked beautiful though.

     Cicero rubbed his temple as he turned to the family room. He wasn't sure if he wanted to see his mother again. His heart was still reeling from seeing the very tree she had hung herself from, even after all these years. Thoughts of just finally burning it down began filling his head.

     The family room was dark with just the warm glow from the fireplace, as predicted. Automatically, he approached the rocking chair, seeing the frail outline of a woman sunk back into it.

     "Mother," he sighed half-heartedly, "I'm... I'm happy you are still with us-"

     A sharp chill ran up Cicero's spine as his eyes landed on the shriveled corpse of the Night Mother there. The sunken eye sockets and paper-like skin were so familiar- too familiar- Her stiff, contorted body locked in that eternal silent scream... and then he saw it. Around her neck, a noose. The rope trailed to the floor, where the end was frayed as if cut violently. 

     Cicero anxiously reached his hand out to touch the noose, his eyes locked on the Night Mother's withered face. But he just couldn't do it. Flustered, he stepped back and took a deep breath, reassuring himself that it was just a dream. It didn't mean anything. 

     He gradually noticed an odd feeling of emptiness. In all the time he'd spent with the Night Mother's corpse, he had always felt her spiritual presence. Even throughout the years of painful silence, he could still feel her soul looking back at him. But now he felt nothing. It was just a corpse.

      Cicero's wariness was interrupted by the clamoring of children's footsteps. He'd almost forgotten. The kids. His kids. He turned to greet them, feeling a sudden rush of excitement, desperate to distract himself from the existential dread... but these weren't his kids like before.

     Three adolescent boys stepped into the room. Two appeared to be around twelve years old, and the older was an older teen. Cicero's momentary joy instantly crashed when he recognized them from his own childhood. He knew this had to do with his encounter at the gates that night. The older boy's face was shrouded in shifting shadows, but there was no doubt who it was: The bully known as "Torygg".

     "No," Cicero said firmly and promptly stepped past them to exit the room, "I'm not doing this."

     Torygg instantly grabbed his arm to stop him. The teen's grip was incredibly powerful and as cold as ice. Cicero stared into his dark and distorted face. His features were garbled and almost appeared to be melting slowly. He seemed a lot larger than he remembered.

     "You're dead. I killed you," Cicero grunted, trying to pull his arm away, "I watched you bleed out. You're not real..." The other children, whom he had recognized as the Bruma guards in their youth, suddenly joined in, grabbing his arms to hold him in place.

     As Cicero struggled, he began feeling weaker and weaker. He couldn't take his eyes off Torygg's disfigured face. The longer he stared, the less it made sense. A low rumble of laughter began to grow in the teen's throat—a man's laughter.

     "Please..." Cicero said in a quiet tone, "It's not funny..."

     Torygg's grip on Cicero's forearm was so tight that his fingers began burrowing under the skin. The laughter grew behind his tight-lipped smile. Cicero was frozen in terror as the boy curled his lip, revealing a mouthful of broken teeth. A fountain of blood poured down his chin as he cackled. His tongue was missing.

     Cicero continued to remind himself that none of this was real and that he had control... yet he was unable to look away. The laughter grew louder, vibrating his skull and blurring his vision. That familiar laughter... He felt his legs grow heavy under his own weight as the haunting memories of the jester flooded back. The jester's voice... laughing through the bloody lips of the ghost of Torygg. His childhood bully's fingers were buried knuckles deep within his skin, yet there was no pain. Just the throbbing of his head. He felt hot.

     "Mother!!" Cicero finally cried out, not quite understanding why. The laughter immediately ceased. The shadows dropped, and he was once again alone. The room was warm and still. Trying to catch his breath, he looked at his arms. They were unharmed. Cicero glanced back toward the hearth, where he could still see Mother's corpse slumped over in the chair. Even though the room was calm again, he felt something ominous growing around him. 

     The Void. 

     In the previous dream, the Void came and devoured everything... But this wasn't like the other dream anymore. Things were way worse.

     Cicero turned and ran back to the kitchen. Jade was plating breakfast. She glanced back at him and smiled lightly, blissfully unaware of everything happening around her and what was to come.

     "Cicero, love... You look pale. Are you ill?"

     The throbbing in his head quickly grew into nausea. Cicero nodded and attempted to walk toward her, feeling a sudden need to hold onto something. He felt like he was drunk.

     "Yes..." he mumbled with much effort, "Cicero is ill. Cicero is very ill..."

     Jade looked concerned. She held her hands out to him, but he was unable to reach her. He felt like he was walking through quicksand.

     The world around them suddenly felt as if it had been dipped into oil. The darkness crept in once again. The Void was here. A shriek of terror arose from outside. Ruby... Cicero glanced back at the front door, seeing that it was ajar. Everything was pitch black outside, and the umbra poured through the opening like thick smoke, rapidly blanketing the floor. 

     Ruby's cries continued. Cicero twisted, attempting to reach for the door. He was somehow suspended in slow motion, yet everything else continued without him. The door gradually fell open, and all he could see was Ruby's thin, pale arm reaching through from the thick, dark Void.

     "Cicero!" her voice was tiny and breaking, "Please! Don't let-"

     He extended his arm as far as he could, his fingertips just barely brushing the tips of hers. His friend was being taken and swallowed up faster than he could physically react. He couldn't stop it...

     The sound of glass shattering behind him seemed to trigger a deafening roar of bass all around. Everything began to shake violently.

     "Cicero!" Jade's panicked voice cried over the rumbling, "Don't go! I-... I need-"

     As the last visible part of Ruby's hand was absorbed by the darkness, Cicero strained to turn back toward Jade. She was on the floor, gripping her cooking knife tightly. There was blood all over her dres,s and she appeared to be in pain. The black smoke was rapidly crawling up over her like it was alive, moments from devouring her too.

     Cicero's vision continued to blur, and it felt like the walls were closing in. The air continued to grow hotter and heavier around him. He could no longer move, feeling like he was being crushed. All he could do was watch as Jade was engulfed into the Void... and she was gone. Again. AGAIN!!

     The rumbling faded, and the heat gave way to intense cold. Cicero was on his knees again. The helplessness set in. That familiar pain of hopeless abandonment. The Void's embrace opened up around him into an infinite scape of nothingness that chilled his bones. Cicero took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the dark frigid vapors.

     Alone. 

     It was strangely calming. The agony in his heart lifted slowly as his mind cleared and a soothing acceptance flowed over him. He felt comfort-

     -He felt a knife slide into his back. Cicero instantly knew it was a blade. He'd been stabbed many times before. The sharp burn of the metal radiated through him. His eyes widened but he could only see darkness. He wasn't alone after all.

     Cicero reached his arm over his shoulder, grunting in pain as he grabbed the handle of the dagger and pulled it from his shoulder blade. As the ground gradually illuminated in a blood-red glow, he was able to identify the weapon. A dagger made of Skyforge steel. Oddly, there was no blood on the edge.

     "...Keeper..." Mother's voice was distant. Cicero slowly stood and looked around the vast emptiness as the crimson glow spread, "Cicero... are you alright...?"

     He turned and was startled to see two figures standing a few meters away: a man and a child.

     "Cicero," Mother continued to call to him from the ether.

     Cicero felt compelled to walk toward the strangers. The man appeared to be older, and his eyes were pure white, complementing his silvery hair and beard.

     Mother's calls persisted, "By Sithis' name, you will answer me!" 

     The child was a girl, perhaps around seven years, with strawberry blonde hair as vibrant as the setting sun. Her curious cat-like smile held an ominous message that he couldn't quite understand. The man, though standing a few steps behind the child, was clearly in on the joke, whatever that was. Though, Cicero was sure that he knew him. He'd seen his likeness many times in his past, but the memories were clouded and... manic.

     "Get up, Cicero..." Mother's voice echoed.

     Cicero glanced back at the young girl. Her eyes were wide and feral-looking. Her eyes... were strange. Just like Ruby, her right eye was a radiant shade of red, but her other eye was an exquisite emerald green.

     "Keeper!"

     Cicero continued to ignore Mother's call. He couldn't get his eyes off this strange girl. She stood there motionless like a mannequin, yet her eyes sparkled wildly at him. Her unsettling smile twitched a little. 

     The child suddenly broke her stance and gracefully curtsied, "Listen," she squeaked, her eyes never leaving his.

     Cicero's eyes shot open. He could see the wooden planks of the ceiling in the small room of the inn. His face was drenched in sweat, and his pounding headache instantly returned.

     "By the Gods, child," Mother was kneeling beside him holding her hand to her chest, "Are you ill?"

     Cicero swallowed. His mouth was dry. He sat up, his joints aching from sleeping on the hardwood floor. He rubbed his shoulder where he was stabbed in his drea,m trying to process what had happened and try to recall why he was there.

     "You're burning up," Mother placed her palm on his cheek.

     "Nightmare..." he murmured, "I'm fine..."

     Mother leaned back and watched him climb to his feet. He looked visibly troubled. She was beginning to question if it was a good idea to bring him here.... but it was too late to turn back. This was the day.

Chapter Text

     The cool morning air felt incredibly refreshing on Cicero's feverish face. He had missed the temperate weather of Cyrodiil. Even growing up in Bruma along the border, the cold wasn't nearly as harsh as it was on the other side of the mountains up in Skyrim. 

     The further south into the province they traveled, the nicer the climate felt. The air around the Imperial City smelled fresh and clean. The winds were mild and carried the subtle scent of wildflowers from the fields. The grass was a vibrant green and the trees were full of life. His homeland was magnificent.

     Mother paused at the top of a large hill and glanced back at Cicero waiting for him to catch up. He was sweating even though the temperature was cool. His expression was eager but she could tell he was not feeling well.

     "Look at you," Mother sighed and crossed her arms, "Two seconds from collapse. That's what you get for getting drunk and sleeping in that tent for several days."

     "Cicero is alright, Mother," he huffed as he reached the top of the hill feeling lightheaded, "It's just a cold. Nothing to worry about."

     Below them, the massive walls of the Imperial City cast long shadows across the open land. Its bright white towers were intimidating and powerful to behold; Strong and beautiful Ayleid architecture that has withstood the tests of time. Just gazing upon its brilliance gave Cicero a new charge of energy.

     Mother grabbed his arm and assertively pulled him to face her, "Alright, child. Your target's name is Marcus Vitellia. Go to the Red Diamond Jewelry shop in the market district and inquire."

     "He's a merchant?"

     "No, but they will know how to find him," she explained and lifted his hand, and placed a letter on his palm, sealed with red wax, "Once you locate the target and not before... you are to read this for instruction on what to do next."

     Cicero nodded, "Yes, Mother. Understood. Where shall I find you once my task is complete?"

     "I have my own personal matters to attend to. We will meet up in Cheydinhal at the abandoned house."

     "Why there?" Cicero's tone was noticeably apprehensive.

     "We will have a lot to discuss," Mother casually touched his arm. She could feel Zukira's residual emotions surfacing again. Perhaps being back in Cyrodiil was causing it. Maybe just seeing Cicero in such distress lately was weakening her ability to keep such things in check. Ironically, she had brought him on this mission to help remedy his wandering emotions and keep him focused on the Uprising.

     Cicero's deep feelings surrounding Jade were a distraction that could cause conflict and hesitation. A successful assassin needed to be unwavering and calculating. Cicero was nothing but a bundle of unbridled emotions and it's only gotten worse since the Listener left. Mother needed him back. She needed his fine-tuned skills and agility unhindered. This meant redirecting his mind.

     Cicero sniffed his leaky nose and cleared his throat nodding as he stared down at the city. The sooner he found this target and eliminated him, the sooner he could rest. Cheydinhal was over a day's travel to the east of the Imperial City. He didn't have fond memories of his time there either, but Mother surely had her reasons. He had just left there a little less than a year ago so the memories were still fresh. 

     "Back to the city, his own motherland... The jester is ready, his dagger in hand..." he mumbled quietly to himself as he began heading down the hill. Mother watched him go for a minute before turning and heading back north.

~

     The Imperial guards at the gates gave him a funny look but said nothing. It was a refreshing change from the harassment he'd often gotten in Skyrim. The streets were alive with crowds of people clothed in culturally fancy attire. Even the adventurers and warriors wore clean, maintained armor. 

     Growing up in the mostly Nordic community of Bruma, he had become accustomed to the rustic and often barbaric ways of the Nords. The clean and proper practices of the Imperials may have been his race's standard, and as appealing as it was after living hand to mouth for so long,  he never felt it truly applied to him. He wasn't very groomed and never had the time nor the care to wash up regularly. His armor and clothes were always stained with dried blood and other filth. Jade always got on his case for looking and smelling rotten. He enjoyed how much it bothered her. 

     One time, Cicero had purposely kept a wad of cheese in his belt pouch for several weeks. Oh, what humor he got from her trying to figure out what that stench was. The faces she'd give him in passing. That scowl.

     Heh. Focus, Cicero.

     He moved through the crowd, admiring the change in scenery as he made his way toward the market district. He'd been to the city many times for previous contracts and was familiar with the layout of the major venues... but he wasn't one for jewelry. It took a few minutes to locate the small store tucked off of the main street.

     Cicero entered cautiously. He hadn't been on a contract on his own since... well, since the jester. He was annoyed at how nervous he felt but tried to rationalize that it was simply the excitement of it all. The store was empty except for an old merchant lounging behind a counter at the back. Cicero wiped his nose with the back of his wrist and nonchalantly sauntered over, occasionally glancing around pretending to browse.

     "Sir?" the merchant stood from his seat as he neared.

     "I'm looking for someone," Cicero explained in a calm, flat tone.

     The man looked a bit uneasy, "Ah, I'm not sure I can help you..."

     "His name is Marcus Vitellia."

     "Oh...." he suddenly smiled like it was some sort of joke, "S'bout time someone called you guys in."

     "Excuse me?"

     "Damn fool's on borrowed time. Pissed off a lot of fine people, he did."

     "Where can I find him?"

     The merchant hesitated a moment before nodding and stepping around the counter. He made his way over to a wooden door on the side wall that could easily be mistaken for a closet. He pulled a keyring out of his vest and unlocked it.

     Cicero curiously stepped over as the merchant went back to the counter without another word and took his seat again. This seemed highly suspicious. Voices could be heard through the door. He glanced back at the man one last time to see that he was casually looking the other way as if waiting. Cicero unsheathed his blade and carefully pulled the door open to see a staircase leading down into a dimly lit cellar.

     It was immediately clear what this place was used for upon descending the steps. Ornate tapestries hung over doorways lining the wall to his left and many candles were lit along the tables to his right. Clearing his nose, he was able to smell some spicey incense burning. Several scantily dressed women were gathered at the back of the long room lounging on some decorative pillows around an elegant chaise lounge, one of them completely topless. This was a brothel.

     Cicero wondered how long the place had been here. It was evident that they were good at keeping it a secret. An older woman solely occupying the fancy chaise lounge noticed him first. She wasn't dressed like the others. She wore a rich silk gown with modest instances of jewelry. At a glance, she could have easily been mistaken for upper middle-class nobility.

     "Can I help you?" she inquired in a cynical tone as she gracefully stood, "I don't have any appointments today and I don't recognize your face." Just as the words left her lips, she squinted as if unsure.

     "I'm looking for a man."

     She chuckled, "Well, you're in the wrong place, hon." The other girls giggled as well.

     "No, I mean... I'm looking for someone named Marcus," Cicero replied, not bothered by her assumption.

     "Are you, now?" the woman raised her brow and swaggered closer to get a better look at him, inspecting his face suspiciously, "Is the old coot in some sort of trouble?"

     "Depends on what you mean by trouble."

     Like a pack of roaming skeevers, the whores slinked over as well and were not very subtle about looking him over. The topless girl touched his arm, squeezing his bicep lightly as if inspecting a piece of rare meat. Cicero furrowed his brow and glanced at her passively.

     "Dark Brotherhood has his name, I see..." The Madam crossed her arms and sighed, "He's a good client. I'm not sure if I'm willing to assist."

     "Ma'am... you'd be much healthier not to cross the Brotherhood," he explained in a low tone. Cicero knew that the Dark Brotherhood's presence in Cyrodiil, and most of Tamriel for that matter, had been almost non-existent for many years. But he knew that it was essential to maintain the illusion that they were everywhere at all times.

     "Speaking of health," the woman deflected, undaunted by his threat, "You don't look so well, yourself."

     "Where can I find Marcus?" he insisted, grabbing the topless girl's hand and removing it from him.

     "Information like that isn't free."

     "How much does your life mean to you?" his threats seemed to be falling on deaf ears.

     Oddly, as if a defense mechanism for the brothel, the whores suddenly began touching him all over, holding their bodies against him. They seemed to be attempting to distract him, or at the very least, get him to drop some coin for a moment of service... perhaps both. Cicero refused to acknowledge them and held his eye contact with the Madam.

     She cocked her brow, "This brothel is my life, and Marcus is one of our investors. Simply selling out his soul to you would be a foolish move," she lifted her gaze to the jester cap on his head and scoffed.

     Cicero was becoming frustrated as the girls continued to rub against him. He clenched his fist tightly around the hilt of his dagger.

     "You say foolish as if it's an insult..." he replied flatly.

     "You seem tense," the Madam gracefully turned away, glancing back over her shoulder at him, "You should consider letting Jules and her sisters help you with that. I'll consider a small discount if you simply leave without further agitation after."

     The topless escort placed her hand on his shoulder and leaned in, nipping his earlobe with her teeth. Cicero suddenly snapped and backhanded her in the nose. She dropped to the floor gasping and covering her face. The others quickly began backing away.

     "Cicero's not playing around," he hissed, "Are you going to tell me where to find him? ...Or not?"

     The Madam stared down at the woman on the floor, bleeding from the nose. She frowned and flared her nostrils before looking back at him, "Not many will pay for a concubine with a bashed-up face... if that's your kink, I don't think I want your business."

     Cicero's patience had run out. His eye twitched and he suddenly lurched forward, grabbing the Madam around the throat and lifting the tip of his dagger to her eye, threateningly.

     "Sithis doesn't mind the soul of a bashed-up harlot," he whispered, leaning his face closer to hers.

     "He's a fisherman..." she said as she choked while trying to retain her composure, "He spends his days at the docks near the Waterfront..."

     Cicero tapped the side of his blade on her forehead lightly, "Much appreciated." He shoved her backward into the chaise lounge. As he turned to leave, the other girls scrambled to get out of his way. He paused at the foot of the steps and glanced back once more, extending his arm and pointing his dagger.

     "If you're deceiving me... I will be back. Cicero hates liars," he smiled, "But part of me hopes you are."

~

     There was a small collection of fishing cottages on the docks. They were primarily used for sailors and traveling merchants to use while in the port but it seemed that underprivileged families had been squatting in them under the notice of the guards. Upon sight of Cicero, several of the occupants quickly retreated into their cabins. They likely wouldn't be very willing to assist him and he was hoping he wouldn't have to go door to door. After his encounter at the brothel, there was a good chance that the guards were already alerted. Cicero felt he was losing his touch. His snap anger had been getting him into trouble lately. It didn't help that he just wasn't feeling well in general. This was sloppy assassin work.

     While walking along the wooden path encircling the harbor, he passed a wandering patrolman and nodded while avoiding eye contact. The shipping docks didn't seem very active at that hour. He noted a small group of merchants hauling goods onto their ship. Based on their attire and accents, they weren't local and a few of them seemed rather shady. This was comforting, as they'd be likely to ignore any strange behavior and may also be avoiding authority.

     As Cicero continued to survey the waterfront, he noticed an older gentleman with long thinning gray hair sitting at the end of a small pier below. With a fishing pole in hand, he didn't seem bothered by his surroundings, likely choosing the spot for its privacy. Cicero glanced around to make sure no one was actively watching before stepping down and approaching.

     "Marcus, I presume?" he asked trying to sound confident.

     The old Imperial didn't turn, "This again? Whatever it is, I don't owe you squat," he grumbled.

     Cicero took a deep breath and glanced back toward the upper walkway. It was unlikely anyone could see him before he saw them. Confident he'd found his target, he removed Mother's letter from his belt and broke the wax seal to open it. A familiar red right handprint was in the center of the page and in clean cursive writing, it said:

     "My Dear Keeper. Close this chapter of your past and send your father's soul to the Void. We are bound not by the blood we share, but by the blood we shed. Hail Sithis, my sweet child."

Chapter Text

     Cicero's hand began to tremble. The paper crinkled as his fingers slowly clenched around it. His heart raced and his mind went blank. How... how did Mother find him? Why did she do this? He never wanted to dig this deep into his own past. He wasn't sure if he should be excited to know who his father was or furious about being abandoned. He had so many questions. His head began to throb.

     Marcus glanced back over his shoulder after the long moment of silence, "Well? Spit it out. What do you want?"

     Cicero couldn't speak. His eyes locked on his father's face. He could see himself and it made him nauseous. He heaved and stumbled backward, clenching his stomach trying to breathe.

     "What in Oblivion's wrong with you, kid?" Marcus grunted, "You on that skooma?"

     Cicero held his finger up to beg for a moment to gather himself. He turned away and leaned on one of the tie-off pillars along the side of the dock. Stomach acid burned in the back of his throat and his face felt like it was on fire. He hunched over and looked at his reflection in the water. He wanted to vomit.

     "Godsdamn junkie," Marcus grumbled, "If you're looking for a handout, look elsewhere," he turned back to his fishing line, "And for love of Peryite, don't puke in the harbor. You'll scare the fish."

     Cicero took a long deep breath and stood upright trying to focus on a point in the distance to settle his stomach. He had questions. Lots of them. He turned slowly and made his way back toward his father, keeping a safe distance.

     "Marcus Vitellia..." he managed to finally say but found himself hesitating. His paternal sirname was Vitellia. Cicero never knew his own last name. His mother died when he was too young to remember hers. So this would make him... Cicero Vitellia. Cicero... Vitellia...

     "Who sent you?" Marcus barked glancing back at him, "Was it Ramona?"

     "...The woman- the Madam at the brothel said I could find you here..."

     "Ramona. That bitch. She thinks she can just tell everyone my personal business... No respect for her own father..."

     Cicero's head was spinning. He began fidgeting while trying to stay focused yet unsure of how to proceed, "I-... have you spent time in Bruma?"

     "Bruma?" Marcus sounded alarmed, "Why would I want to go to that shithole?"

     "A woman lived there-"

     "I don't know no women from Bruma," he spat into the water and began reeling in his line, "I get my fix at the Red Diamond."

     "There was a woman there... her name was Eris," Cicero explained as he fought desperately to keep his composure, "She had long red hair... like... like mine."

     Marcus paused and sat silently in thought. Cicero chewed the corner of his lip as he waited for a reaction.

     "Eris?" the old man finally said in a low tone, "That whore?"

     Cicero could feel his ears getting hot and the pounding in his head intensified. His fingers clenched tighter on the paper, "Whore...?"

     "Yeah, I knew her. She wasn't from Bruma, though. She lived here. A fiery one, that. A bit of a psycho."

     "What do you mean...?"

     "She was just an escort. I had her a few times. Bitch got clingy. Started following me around outside of her work hours." There was an unsettling hint of humor in Marcus's voice, "Not a bad looking broad. A bit too skinny for my taste, though. She wasn't right in the head. Made threats to any other whore I showed attention to. She went and let herself get knocked up and tried to hang it over my head to get me to marry her." he laughed and began coughing.

     Cicero's tension gave way to weakness. Was this true? Was his mother just a common streetwalker? Was he a bastard child after all?

     Marcus glanced back at him, his smirk of amusement fading, "Let me guess. You're here because you want some sort of inheritance?"

     A chill went up Cicero's spine, "I... no... I just want-... I..."

     "Speak up, you dunce!" his father frowned, "You want what? A father who gives a shit?" He scoffed and turned back to recast his line, "Don't blame me for your problems, kid. Blame your nutjob of a mother. That madwoman wanted me so bad she tried to trap me with a child and assume I'd suddenly want to settle down and take care of her."

     Cicero cringed. Oddly, an intrusive thought began creeping in that perhaps he was doing the same with Jade. It wasn't his intention to-... He didn't mean for it to happen. He was just trying to be responsible after the fact, right? Why would he purposely do something like that? He wasn't as lovelorn as his mother clearly was. No. He wasn't like her.

     "She cried a lot," Cicero finally found his voice, "...about you."

     "Of course she did. She screwed up her life having you. She couldn't whore herself anymore. Damaged goods. She became a useless old maid with a bastard kid."

     "She loved you..."

     "She was crazy."

     "My mother hung herself out of devastation... she left me because you abandoned her..."

     "Don't give me that horse crap, kiddo," Marcus hunched forward as he dragged the line, "You don't remember me."

     "How could I!?" Cicero's voice cracked as he took a step forward, "You didn't exist in my life!"

     Marcus grunted and jammed the fishing pole between the boards in the dock then finally stood up to turn and face his son head-on, "I was there when you were born."

     "..."

     "I wanted to make sure you were mine before I'd lift a finger to help that nutcase," he grumbled, "She was an ungrateful bitch. She didn't care about you. She used you to try to keep me around. I bought her that house in Bruma in an attempt to keep her as far away from me as I could afford."

     Cicero clenched his jaw as his father moved closer.

     "And you know how she repaid me?" Marcus's tone was low, "Your whore of a mother stopped putting out. She just wanted my money. So I took it from her."

     "Took what... from her?"

     "What she owed me."

     Cicero swallowed while trying to stay calm as his father came to a stop before him. "...You raped her."

     "It's not rape if she owes it to you."

     Cicero was almost sure he heard a snap in his head. He suddenly fell into tunnel vision and everything went red. He swung his arm and punched Marcus in the face sending the old man tumbling back across the dock.

     "I heard her crying!" Cicero wailed as he stood over his fallen father. Dark and confusing memories suddenly began resurfacing with new understanding, "I was only seven years old! I couldn't help her! And it was YOU!! You were the monster! You were the one who would show up at night and make her cry in pain!"

     Marcus began fumbling for the fishing knife holstered on his hip and held it up defensively. Cicero instantly kicked it out of his hand, his eyes filled with pure rage.

     "You gonna kill me now?" his father huffed with an uncanny sense of calmness in his voice, "You've come to collect on my sins? Who do you think you are? You're not getting my money."

     "Cicero doesn't want your fucking money," he growled, "Your soul will do nicely."

     Marcus stared up into his son's deranged eyes, "Look at you... You're just as mad as she was..."

     That did it. Cicero scooped up the knife from the dock beside him and in one smooth gesture, drove it down into his father's crotch. Marcus howled in pain. The blade burrowed into the wood under him, pinning him to the pier.

     "Guess what pops!?" Cicero cackled and gracefully stepped over him, "I'm gonna be a daddy soon, too!" he retrieved the fishing rod from the plank and looped the line.

     Marcus gasped and panted in agony as he frantically pulled the knife free, his pant legs stained a deep crimson. Before he could move, Cicero stepped up and swung the fishing line around his throat from behind.

     "...And Cicero is gonna be a great father. Oh, yes. Yes, he is!" he pulled it taut before leaning down to Marcus's ear to whisper, "Sithis calls, dearest daddy." He pressed his knee into the old man's back and pulled back causing the line to cut into his skin. Marcus gagged and clawed at his throat as his face turned red and his eyes became bloodshot.

     Cicero suddenly jerked backward, swinging Marcus around, and hurling him over the side of the dock with the fishing line trailing him, reminiscent of a catch. As he hit the water, Cicero jammed the fishing pole back between the wooden slats and flipped the lock on the reel to stop the line. He stood silently and watched Marcus thrash while rapidly choking to death on the makeshift noose. The panicked garbling and splashing gradually calmed and gave way to an eerily tranquil pattern of ripples along the blood-tainted surface of the water.

     Cicero frowned thoughtfully as the world around him began to feel different. Watching Marcus's body peacefully bob with the crimson current, there was a strong sense of release. The anxiety of not knowing was replaced by the agony of finally learning the truth and it was bittersweet. He felt closer to his mother now that he understood more of what she was going through. Yet he also felt a bit fearful that perhaps he understood too much. Cicero worried that her issues had somehow passed onto him... But at least now he had clarity; A confirmed sense of identity. He was a bastard child conceived through sexual violence... but he knew he could be a better man despite it. A better father.

     "Daddy!!" a woman's voice shrieked from the gates above, "That's him! That's the hooligan who attacked us! He is trying to kill Daddy!"

     Cicero turned to see a dozen Imperial City guards running down the docks with their swords drawn. The screaming woman was Ramona, the Madam from the brothel. His... half-sister.

     "Ooh- ho!" he unsheathed his dagger; a mischievous smile crept across his face, "Here we go."

----------------------

New characters added to the Character Guide Book: Mother Eris and Marcus Vitellia

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: This is a headcanon backstory for entertainment purposes and does not directly reflect the canon character or the game lore itself.

     She was crying again. I hated hearing my mother cry. She was always a naturally happy and joyful woman but at night she was afraid. Sometimes the monster came and she'd make me hide in my room. She told me to sleep and dream about what games we could play in the morning. But I could never sleep. I wanted to save her but I was also afraid.

     Sometimes Mother yelled at the monster, begging it to be kind and merciful to her. She told it that she loved it and wanted it to love her back. She wanted it to know me. I often heard my name but then it would get quiet. I always thought the worst but it was just a matter of time before the crying began again. Thumping and slamming. Mother was fighting with it. I knew she was strong. Before morning, the monster would leave.

     I sat on the edge of the small cot in the corner of my room and strained my ears to listen just to be sure that it was gone. I knew it would kill me if I ever showed myself. I quietly slid off the bed and slowly opened the door to peek out into the living area. There was a small fire in the hearth and I could see Mother standing near the front door staring out into the dark streets. It was as if she was watching the monster off. She was trembling slightly, her nightgown ripped and tangled around her.

     "Momma?" I asked quietly, waiting for a reply before daring to venture out. She was startled by the sound of my voice and turned. Her face was stained with tears but she still managed to smile.

     "Oh, chickpea..." she whispered, her voice cracking a little. Mother closed the front door and knelt down holding her arms out to me. She wiggled her thin frail fingers and beamed the most inviting smile I'd ever come to know. She needed me now. I was too small to protect her but at least I could comfort her.

     I ran across the floor and jumped into her arms to hold her tightly. She was shivering. Mother was a very thin woman and struggled to keep us fed. Neighbors looked down upon us. They said terrible things about Mother and called her names that I didn't understand. But she was strong and never let it get to her. She always smiled. Nothing got to her... except the monster.

     "He's coming around," she whispered as she held me close, "He's a good man... he just gets angry sometimes and doesn't realize what he's doing." She picked me up and carried me over to the old wooden rocking chair in front of the hearth. The fire was dying. There was never enough firewood to make it through the night. Mother was too weak to haul kindling but I always tried to help. I was small and my arms were not long enough to carry bundles home from the woods. So whenever I'd go out to play, I'd collect the sticks I found around the street outside of the house... I just wish they didn't burn so quickly.

     Mother sat in the chair and cradled me on her lap. I rested my head on her shoulder and tangled a strand of her long red hair around my fingers. I loved her hair. It was the same color as mine. We were like two peas in a pod. Mother was my best friend.

     "I want to take us to the Imperial City," Mother spoke as she rocked lightly while stroking my back, "I know people there. Other women. I think it would be better if we could be closer to him. He only comes to Bruma once a fortnight... but if we were in the City, I could- we could see him on his better days. He could get to know you."

     She was talking about my father. She said he was a passionate man with dashing good looks and lots of money. She said that he would take care of us but there were 'barriers' they had to work through.

     "Things will get better, chickpea," her voice shook slightly but she still held an optimistic tone, "Our little family is going to get a little bigger soon and I know he will accept us then," she kissed me on the top of my head and sighed, "It's going to be okay."

~

     Mother didn't like me to wander too far from the house alone. There wasn't much to look at or do in the residential district. All of the houses looked the same and I never had anyone to play with. The other children always played hide-and-seek around the temple or tag outside of the city gates. I often saw them running by but they never asked me to join them. Mother didn't like the games they played. She said they were vile children with no morals. Besides, they were much older and more likely to chase me up a tree than to be my friend.

     I made up my own games like searching for things to collect and bring to Mother. Every day I'd search for something of a different color. She would always light up with that wonderful smile no matter what I gave her. One time I found an old topaz ring in the dirt. She said she loved it so much but sold it to buy me a new pair of mittens for the winter. She explained that she got much more joy out of watching me play in the snow than she would ever get from a silly old ring. I didn't quite understand, but I was just happy to see her smile.

     Sometimes in the late spring, some flowers would secretly grow near the well beside our house. Most of the wildflowers grew in the fields south of the city but I was never allowed to venture out there without Mother. We would make flower wreaths and catch torch bugs on summer nights. But she had been rather tired the last few weeks and said she wasn't feeling well. I tried to stay very close to the house to listen for her if she needed me. It would come and go, her sickness. She never seemed bothered by it and would just tell me to go outside and play until it passed.

     I wanted to see if those spring flowers were blooming. I knew they could help Mother feel better. I rounded the corner of the house and sure enough, three little yellow flowers were just beginning to blossom near the loose bricks of the well. I ran over and very carefully plucked them from their base so Mother could put them in water and they would last longer.

     I heard laughter from nearby. It was coming from some of the older kids that my mother had warned me about. They were Nord children who were always getting into trouble. Torygg and his crew. They called him that since he was the oldest and they thought of him as their 'high king'. His father was from Skyrim and apparently served the royal family. Well, according to Torygg, anyway. He enjoyed gloating about his family's reach of power across provinces, yet he still lived here in this crummy border town as a commoner. Torygg was a liar. I hate liars.

     "By Talos' testicle, what have we here?" The bully and his two goons came around the corner of the house. The alley suddenly felt much smaller.

     I stood quickly and turned to face them, "Good morning, Torygg." I tried to smile but I could tell by the look on their faces that they were up to something.

     "Where's your mom?" he stepped closer, towering over me, "Out sleepin' around?"

     "No. She's sleeping inside," I answered. I never understood his insults. I knew they were insults because his lackeys would bust out laughing and a cocky grin would cross his stupid face.

     "Oh! She's running her own brothel now? I should tell your dad! Maybe he'd come to visit more often!" Torygg cackled and jabbed one of the other boys in the shoulder to coax more of a reaction. I didn't find any of this amusing. I may not have understood a lot of what he was saying, but I did not like anyone making fun of my mother.

     "Little Cicero's got some flowers," one of the other boys said, "What a girl."

     "I bet it makes him feel like a princess!" the other boy added.

     "They're for my mom..." I managed to mumble, holding the flowers close to protect them. The moment I spoke, I knew it was a mistake.

     "Your mom, huh?" Torygg reached out and ripped the blossoms from the stems, "You know you can't marry your own mother, right?"

     The other boys burst into laughter. His insults didn't hurt as much as the fact that the flowers were gone. They only bloomed there once a year and now I had nothing to bring home. Mother was resting from her morning illness and I knew that those flowers would have made her feel better... but now they're gone.

     "I always thought he was gay!" one of the boys shouted, "But he's just a momma's boy!"

     "That's so messed up!" the other boy said between gasps of laughter, "Look he's crying!"

     "He's crying like a little baby!"

     "Oh, did we upset the milk drinker? Do you need your mommy?" Torygg shoved me in the shoulder.

     I was trying my best to hold back the tears but it was no use. I wanted to run but they had me cornered. Torygg was so much bigger than me and even his two smaller goons were intimidating.

     "Please don't do this..." I mumbled and dropped the stems on the ground. It was as if everything I said made them laugh even more.

     "Please! Please!" Torygg mocked, "Oh, please! I'm Cicero and I have manners! My mom loves it when I pick pussy flowers for her! I'm such a girl!"

     "I'm not a girl..."

     "Shut up, baby," one of the boys barked, "We don't want to hear your whiney voice."

     "Hey," Torygg turned to his underling, "I got this, 'kay?"

     The boy fell silent and took a step back. Torygg turned back to me and leaned down to my face. His breath smelled like aged mutton. I flinched.

     "Are you afraid, ginger? Do I frighten you?" he said in a deep tone, "You wanna run home to mommy? Hm?"

     I nodded slowly.

     "Oh, you do? You gonna go cry to her? Tell her that you're a pussy and got your ass kicked?"

     "...don't swear..." I whispered.

     "What!?"

     "...I said p-please don't swear. It's not nice."

     "Don't sw-" he lifted his head and looked back at the other boys, "You guys fuckin' hearing this? The baby told me not to swear because it's-" he paused and glanced back at me, "Tell them what you just said."

     "..."

     "Eh? Speak up for the guys," Torygg crossed his arms, "They're hard of hearing from getting beat in the head one too many times by their old man."

     One of the boys nodded and the other frowned. I hesitated. To repeat myself meant more laughter and mocking. But to say nothing could mean a beating for myself.

     "Swearing is not nice," I replied in a semi-confident manner.

     None of them laughed. Though, the frowning boy made a scoffing sound. Torygg grabbed me by the shirt and lifted me up so high that my toes barely touched the ground. He leaned his face into mine again and stared me straight in the eyes.

     "Nice guys finish last, milk-drinker. It's a dog-eat-dog world... and you're a fucking pussycat," he growled and dropped me against the well. I caught myself on the edge, knocking a stone loose. It tumbled down inside making a distant splash.

     "You should remember that," he continued, "Dogs fight. Pussycats run. Now run home to mommy, coward." He kicked some dirt at me before turning to leave. His goons murmured sounding almost disappointed as they wrung their hands and cracked their knuckles threateningly.

     I got off lucky. It would have been hard to explain to Mother how I got bruised and bloody again. I promised her that I would stay away from the other kids but they seemed to always find me... like a pack of wolves hunting a wounded deer.

     I glanced down at the blossoms. They were smashed into the dirt. Trembling, I knew I needed to clean up my face before returning to Mother. If I couldn't make her smile, I at least didn't want to make her sad.

>>> New characters added to the Character Guide Book: "Torygg", Aron, and Jasper

Chapter Text

     I was ripped from my sleep to the painfully familiar sounds of Mother crying and pleading. The monster was back. I didn't remember it returning so soon after a previous visit. I could hear its roaring voice this time. It sounded very upset repeating, "I don't care! Get rid of it!" over and over... 

     I pulled the ratty wool blanket over my head and covered my ears. I began humming to myself and trying to focus on the melody. A traveling bard came down my street once and sang a song for me in passing. It was so happy and carefree. I don't remember the words, but the tune still lingered. It helped but only until I heard a door slam. Silence. There was no more yelling, no more crying, no more crashing or breaking sounds...

     I lowered my hands from my ears and opened my eyes as I listened. Nothing. Several minutes passed before I found the courage to pull the blanket down and peek toward my bedroom door. It felt like something was wrong. I knew I needed to check on Mother. I knew she needed me, but I was frozen with the fear of the unknown. I was small... but I needed to be strong.

     I quietly slipped from the bed and made my way to the door. I took a deep breath before pulling it open and peeking out. Mother was sitting in her rocking chair while staring at a cold fireplace. Her hands were placed on her stomach and she was talking but no one was there.

     "He will be okay," she said in a low tone, "He's better than that. You can't see it but I can. I always know what they are thinking..."

     Mother talked to herself sometimes. Usually when she was very upset. One time, one of the ladies who lived a few houses down accused Mother of doing something naughty with her husband. They got into a fight and the guards had to break it up. Mother got taken to jail for two whole nights. It was really scary to be alone. I didn't like it at all. The walls creaked and the shadows danced. I don't like the silence. I don't like the loneliness.

     When she came back a few days later, she paced around arguing with herself. She couldn't seem to agree with anything she said and it was very difficult to watch but I was just happy to have her home again.

     Mother suddenly stopped rocking and glanced over her shoulder at me. Her face was pale in the dim candlelight and she seemed confused for a moment before a smile grew upon her lips.

     "My baby! My little chickpea! Come to me, love!" she beckoned cheerfully; a stark contrast to her previous mood.

     "...I'm not a baby," I cautiously protested, "I'm almost eight."

     Mother's eyes widened a little, "Oh... oh, of course! You are most definitely not a baby, dear Cicero. You are growing to be a fine young lad. Forgive your mommy, dear. She is sometimes very silly. Now come. Come sit on Mother's lap," she patted her knee.

     I shuffled over and climbed up onto her with ease. She wrapped her thin bruised arms around me and embraced me tightly, smushing her cheek against mine. This was my favorite place to be.

     "I just love you so much, you know this," she cooed, "You are my everything. You are Mama's perfect little man. Forever and always."

     "I won't always be little.

     "Oh, of course not. You will grow up to be a big strong man someday. You will strike fear into the hearts of all who look upon you."

     I giggled and began playing with a strand of her soft red hair, "I don't want to scare people. I want to make friends."

     "You will have many friends, chickpea. You will live in the Imperial City and all of the other children will find you absolutely charming. You will go to the best schools, eat the healthiest foods, and maybe even fall in love and get married someday..." her voice faded.

     I lifted my head to look up at her. She wasn't making a lot of sense. Her smile was gone and she was staring into the dark fireplace again.

     "I don't want to leave or get married," I slouched down a bit and laid my head on her shoulder, "I want to stay with you. You need me."

     Mother chuckled, "Foolish little Cicero... mother can't be with you forever. You will find someone else who will need you and love you as much as I do when I'm gone."

     "Gone? Where are you going?"

     "It's going to be okay. Everything happens for a reason," she placed her cold hand on my cheek, "You are here for a purpose, chickpea. You were not a mistake. He doesn't understand. You are destined for greatness and I know you can do anything you set your mind to and you are much stronger than any of those brats who run through the streets."

     "But they're bigger than me..." I didn't want to admit to her what had happened in the alley earlier but I didn't want mother to be proud of me for something I wasn't.

     "Strength isn't about your size. Always drink your milk to make your bones and muscles strong," she seemed to be rambling, "...but remember that you are way smarter and way more passionate than most. You are resilient and-"

     "What does resilient mean?"

     "It means you can pick yourself up no matter how many times you fall. Things will always go wrong, Cicero. That's life. Not many of us have the ability to dust ourselves off and continue the fight. You don't need muscles to be strong. You need willpower and determination. With that and a bit of cunning, you will thrive in a world of liars and backstabbers. Your love and loyalty will carry you far. You are a good son, Cicero... and you will be a good man, husband, father... just... remember to always fight for what you believe in and show others that you care about them, okay? Everyone deserves some joy."

     What did that mean? Mother sounded worried all of a sudden. I held onto her tightly. I didn't want her to feel sad or scared anymore.

     "We have each other," I mumbled, "I will always take care of you, Mother."

     She didn't reply. She just stroked my hair and rocked lightly. I could tell something was wrong. The monster did something to her. I hated myself that I couldn't save her from it. I couldn't protect her from this pain.

     "I'll be strong for you, momma," I whispered and closed my eyes, "I will be resilient and still drink milk when I'm an old man."

     She chuckled lightly, "Thank you, chickpea."

~

     I must have fallen asleep in my mother's arms. I woke up back in my bed and the house was very cold. I hadn't collected the kindling earlier after the bullies pushed me around. I was too afraid to go back outside... and now there was nothing to start a fire with. The subtle light of the dawn peeked through the cracks of the shutters over the window. Mother wouldn't be able to cook breakfast without fire.

     I quickly leaped out of bed and ran out into the main room of the house when I realized that the front door was wide open. I shivered as a gust of chilly morning air rolled in. Had mother gone out last night? I quickly shuffled to her bedroom door and pulled it open. She was not in her bed, though the blanket was on the floor and the drawers of her wardrobe were a jar. I called her name several times but got no reply. I began to panic.

     Had she left in the night without telling me? Did someone come and take her? Was it the monster!? How could this have happened!? I had promised that I'd protect her and keep her safe. I knew I wasn't big or strong but I tried my best to make sure she was okay. I ran outside and began searching the empty streets for her. It was still dark and very few citizens were awake yet. I didn't even know where to begin. Mother never left without me! We were always together, always within earshot of one another. I needed to find help.

     Maybe the guards saw something. My mother told me to always respect authority. She had said that she was good friends with many of the guards and soldiers stationed around Bruma. I was sure they'd be willing to help find her!

     I ran up to the south gate, struggling to catch my breath to beg for their attention. "Excuse me!" I called, waving at them as I neared, "I- I can't find my mother!"

     The two gate guards turned and glanced down at me. They were quiet for a long moment as if trying to figure out who I was or what I was saying.

     "You're lost?" one of them finally asked.

     "No, she is!" I replied while trying my best to hold back tears, "I woke up and she was gone!"

     "I'm sure she's fine, kid," the guard sighed, "She's a grown woman, I assume. She can take care of herself."

     "I don't think you understand, sir! She never leaves me alone! We are always together and she would have told me-"

     "Look, kid," the second guard put his hands on his hips and puffed his chest out, "We are not babysitters. You clearly know where your home is, so go back to it and wait for her to return."

     "But something is wrong. I think the monster could have come and taken her."

     "Monster?" the guards exchanged glances, "What do you mean monster?"

     "It comes into my house at night and it hurts her. It makes her cry..." Tears began pouring down my cheeks. Why wouldn't they take me seriously?

     "Sounds like your mom has a boyfriend who likes it rough," one of the guards laughed, "See? Your mom doesn't tell you everything. He doesn't like kids so she ran off to be with him."

     "Ah, yep," the other guard nodded, "My aunt ditched her firstborn at the orphanage and ran off with that Garneg fella."

     "Garnog," the first guard corrected.

     "Yeah, I don't know what she saw in that idiot. The joke's on her though. She got knocked up again and then he ditched her!"

     Both men burst into laughter. It felt like they had forgotten I was even standing there. How could they be laughing when my mom was missing? Why couldn't they understand? This wasn't a joke!

     "Mother isn't like that..." I mumbled, unsure of what to do.

     "Alright... what does your mommy look like? Do you know her name? What was she wearing when you last saw her?" the second guard finally calmed down.

     "H-her name is Eris... she has long red hair like mine and she is skinny and- and she was wearing a gray nightgown..." I could barely speak as the tears continued to flow.

     The guards became very quiet for some reason. They stared at one another while making small and subtle gestures. Nodding and twitching their heads as if trying to communicate without speaking.

     The longer they did this, the more nervous I felt. Finally, one of them sighed and knelt down before me. I could feel my heart beating faster as he placed his hand on my shoulder.

     "You're Eris's kid, eh?" he asked, his voice sounding serious.

     "Yes, sir."

     "...She-... Someone found h-... go home," he glanced away, "We will send someone for you shortly."

Chapter Text

     The guards never came for me. Several days passed while I waited for Mother to return. I grew hungry as the cupboards went bare but I was afraid to leave. I needed to be here when she came back. She needed me.

     Eventually, the hunger became too much. I was forced to venture out but I wasn't sure where to go or who to ask for help. In the marketplace, I decided to try and steal some fruit from a stand while the merchant was distracted. I would come back later after Mother returned to pay for it... but for now, I desperately needed to eat. I took an apple and a handful of blackberries before fleeing to a nearby alley. As I quickly ate, I noticed that some of the children noticed me. They were watching and giving me strange looks while whispering to one another.

     When I was just about finished with the last of the berries, one of them came down the alleyway. His rapid approach made me nervous. I didn't have much energy to defend myself.

     "Hey..." he said in a quiet tone, "...we thought you were dead..."

     "Dead? Why?" I asked while wiping the berry juice from my mouth.

     "I heard that your mom killed you and then hung herself. That's what the other kids are saying. They said their parents are talking about it."

     "I'm not dead... and my mom didn't hang herself. She's just missing," I tried to reply with confidence but the fact that everyone was talking about Mother and I was very alarming.

     "No one told you?" his eyes widened, "Someone saw your mom hang herself from a tree outside the city gates. The guards cut her down and said it was suicide."

     "...suicide?"

     "It's when you kill yourself on purpose," he explained with a glint of excitement in his eyes, "My dad always said your mom was crazy. He said she would probably off herself someday. We just heard that she killed you first."

     My head began to spin and I felt nauseous. Liars. All of them! That's why my mother told me to stay away from the other kids. They were liars and so were their parents! I wanted to hit him for suggesting that my mother would kill herself. She loved me and she would never leave me behind on purpose.

     "Why would you lie about that!?" I yelled, my face feeling warm, "My mother is a strong woman and she'd never-"

     "Go see for yourself," he replied casually and crossed his arms. He seemed very unaffected and if anything, found enjoyment out of telling me such vicious rumors.

     I didn't want to hear it anymore. I shoved him aside and ran from the alley. The guards would have told me if something bad happened, right? They said they would come for me and make sure everything was okay...

     I ran across the temple grounds toward the south gate. I didn't believe him, so I wasn't sure why but I just knew I needed to know. I needed to see for myself.

     As I approached the gate I could see two guards talking to one another. They were different from the men I had seen several days before. As I ran past, they glanced at me but said nothing. It felt wrong to be outside of the city without my mother. The world seemed to open up and it felt so frightening and vast... and empty. I ran down the path a ways before slowing as my energy faded. But there it was... the tree. It stood by itself just off of the dirt road. My stomach was in knots as I made my way closer. I could see a frayed rope hanging from the bottommost branch and nothing more. I didn't remember it being there before. It didn't look very old and appeared to be freshly cut.

     My chest suddenly felt tight and my entire body shut down. I found myself stumbling against the trunk of the tree and slowly lowering to the ground. How...? How could mother have done this? She abandoned me. But why? Was she in that much pain? ...I wasn't able to save her.

     The sound of my own sobbing was so foreign to my ears. I'd never cried like that before. I struggled to breathe between wails as I hugged my knees. Time seemed to stand still. I realized that life would never be the same for me and that the long talks about the future that my mother and I had would never come true. I was on my own. I was alone.

~

     I've been strong. Just like Mother wanted. It had been about a year since I had to begin fending for myself. Rumors continued to circulate about what actually happened. I tried to just ignore it all. Some of the villagers thought I was some sort of apparition since I tried my best to keep to the shadows and not draw attention to myself. The guards had begun trying to track me down and saying that I was a menace. They wanted to take me to the orphanage and have me 'disciplined'. I didn't need anyone to look after me or teach me right from wrong. My mother taught me well enough.

     The old house was deemed abandoned but was never sold. Mother had told me that my father held the deed and we would never have to worry about being homeless. She was right... sort of. I made sure to only go out at night to find food and to leave very little evidence of my residency there. I didn't need much to survive so I was able to spend most of my time learning. I taught myself how to read and grabbed every book I came across in an attempt to kill off the boredom of hiding all day.

     It was lightly snowing one night and I wasn't very eager to go out. I knew I needed to scavenge some firewood if I was going to make it through the week. I had no coat or winter wear to fight off the cold and the mittens my mother had bought for me a few years before were now too small. 

     I sat in front of the hearth and stabbed at the ash with the metal poker. My eyes began to wander around the room to the few pieces of wooden furniture left. The small dining table for two. A couple of aged crates to store provisions. Mother's rocking chair... no. I was not going to use her chair for kindling. I was not that desperate. I would never be that desperate. I was considering just going to bed to keep warm and perhaps risking a morning venture to collect wood.

     Just then, I thought I heard a strange voice crying. I slowly stood and tilted my head to listen. It sounded like a child... or maybe a young woman? It sounded like they were in pain or distress. It was distant but disturbing. I waited a few moments as I listened, wondering if perhaps my mind was playing tricks on me in the silence. Upon closing my eyes to focus, thoughts of the monster resurfaced. It had been a long time since I'd thought about it. Since Mother's death, the monster had never returned. I am grateful for that.

     The crying began to sound animalistic. It screeched and growled and soon there was another voice laughing. I opened my eyes. There was no telling what I would find, but curiosity got the best of me. Opening the front door, I could hear the commotion much clearer. I followed the crying and laughing toward the large statue outside the cathedral. Being the dead of night, the streets were dark and vacant... except for the culprit. An older teen was standing over a small dog, pinning it to the ground with his foot. The animal barked and screamed while the boy seemed quite entertained.

     As I neared, I could see who it was. Torygg. Of course. I had avoided him most while on my own, but it seemed as though he had also adapted to coming out at night. Though, his form of mischief was not quite the same as mine. The dog he was torturing was a mutt owned by Old Agnar; an elderly blind man who the kids played pranks on. His dog didn't have a name and looked almost as old as him. It too was blind but in only one eye. It was a very trusting animal and regularly found itself the victim of the street children's games. Apparently, Torygg had nothing else better to do on a cold night than to torment the old Nord's only companion.

     "Go home!" I shouted from a safe distance. I wasn't sure why I didn't think of something more intimidating. Perhaps the sounds of the crying dog had me on edge.

     Torygg lifted his foot off of the mutt and glanced over at me. He squinted while trying to figure out who I was. It had been about a year since we'd last crossed paths, but I had definitely seen him around. I paid very close attention to the actions of others. I had learned a lot.

     "Who the fuck are you?" he huffed.

     "Watch your tongue," I replied trying my best to sound tough.

     "Holy shit, it's the ginger," he laughed, "I thought your psycho mother drown you in a tub as a sacrifice to Sithis and then hung herself."

     "Sithis?"

     "Yeah, wasn't your mom in that weird cult or something?"

     "What cult? What are you talking about? My mother was a good person!" I could feel my face growing warm and I foolishly began moving closer to confront him.

     "The Dark Brotherhood. Creepy people who live in the shadows. My mom said that they do rituals and stuff in that abandoned house," he gestured toward my street, "Said your mom always threatened to contact them when she didn't get her way. Bossy bitch."

     "Wha-!? That's not true at all! Your mom is a liar and so are you!" I was so tired of all of these rumors trying to paint my mother as an evil person. She was just sad and lonely and I did everything I could to comfort her. But for some reason, this town wanted to make her out to be some kind of horrible witch.

     "Ha," he scoffed, "At least I have a mom."

     "What's wrong with you!?"

     "You hate liars so much; why don't you quit lying to yourself? Your mother was a common whore who was batshit crazy. Everyone else knows this but you. Get your head out of your ass."

     "You don't know anything. I knew her better than all of you put together!" I yelled while doing everything I could to keep from crying but as always, it was no use.

     "Denial is a powerful thing, kid," Torygg laughed, "I'd tell you to go run home to your mother, but we both know that's not possible now, is it?"

     "Stop talking about her!" I stomped my foot in the snow, "Don't you ever speak of her again or gods help me, I'll... I'll..."

     "You'll what?" he lifted his brow looking quite interested, "Tell on me? To whom? Who is going to listen to you? Mommy dearest can't help you."

     "I'll kill you!"

     "...Oh?" Torygg raised his shirt and pulled a knife from his belt. He angled it slightly to catch the light from the brazier on its edge. "Do it," he taunted, "Kill me. Come on, pussy. I know you've thought about this a lot. Show me what you've got."

     I took a few steps back. I wanted to turn and run back to my house but I was locked up with fear. He was right though. About a lot of things. That there was no one I could run to... and that I had thought about killing him many times. I'd thought about killing everyone in Bruma. I'd even thought about killing myself... just to be with Mother again.

     "Dogs fight, pussycats run," he repeated his catchphrase.

     "There's nothing wrong with running..." I took another step back as he took one forward.

     "I'm sure your coward of a mother taught you that seeing as she ran from her problems and took the easy way out-"

     I snapped. I knew he was doing whatever he could to provoke me and it worked. I felt my blood boil as I lunged forward and plowed into the middle of him. I must have taken him off guard because he tumbled into the snow like a rag doll. Perched upon him, I began beating his face and chest with my fists as hard as I could. I had become blinded by rage. I couldn't control myself. All of my anger and fear had finally erupted. Torygg kicked his legs and managed to punch me in the nose once before lifting his other arm to swing the knife at me. I flinched and braced myself for the stab... But suddenly, Old Agnar's dog jumped in and grabbed his arm. Torygg released a scream of surprise and the knife dropped from his grip. On instinct, I scooped it up and held it up to his throat.

     "Are you afraid, pussy? Do I frighten you?" I mocked in a low tone as I leaned into him, "It's a dog-eat-dog world, Torygg. You taught me that."

     The old mutt growled and yanked aggressively at his sleeve. The irony was such poetry.

     "F-fuck you, reject," the bully managed to hiss through his bloody teeth, "You think you're tough shit just because you've got a little butter knife? You don't even know how to use a blade... I bet you're too much of a pussy to-"

     I frowned and jammed the knife down into his throat. He opened his mouth to cry out but was unable to make a sound. Torygg's wide frightened eyes glistened with tears as he stared up at me, shocked by my swift and un-hesitant action. At that moment I felt remorse... I felt intense guilt and fear. Who was I to take the life of another? Who was I to decide on someone's punishment? Who was I...?

     I was Cicero... and I was mad.

     I pulled the knife from his jugular and a fountain of crimson blood followed. His eyes drifted and faded as his head rolled to the side and the life left his body. Old Agnar's dog released his arm and began sniffing around, unbothered and unaware of what had just transpired. I felt a strange rush of relief and exhilaration while I stared at the body of my former bully. There was a profound sense of freedom flowing through me. I found myself smiling at the beauty of it all. How many people had he hurt in the past besides me? How many would he have hurt in the future? I did something. I made a change. I affected the world. I felt purpose.

     It was like I was possessed as I reached down and pulled Torygg's mouth open. I took his tongue and pulled it down against his teeth for a better grip before attempting to saw through it with the knife. The blade wasn't very sharp and the tongue kept slipping from my fingers, so it took quite a while to make a cut. It felt surreal, like I was outside my own body watching myself mutilate him for no other reason than to satisfy some suppressed visceral emotion.

     "Pussycat got your tongue?" I mumbled as the disfigured flesh finally tore loose. The small bloody piece was nearly unrecognizable in my palm. I quickly jammed it back into his mouth attempting to shove it down his throat.

     "I warned you to watch your tongue," I muttered in a humorous tone, "It's not nice to say such things about my mother. You eat your words."

     I was lightheaded but exhilarated at the same time. The more I attempted to push the dismembered tongue down his throat, the more it would pop back up. Even in death, he was a disobedient louse. Finally, I just threw the piece of meat to the dog and stood up. I stared down at the massive crimson stain on my shirt. My hands trembled, but not with fear. I felt alive.

     The snow was picking up and it was eerily quiet. I didn't even feel cold anymore. My lingering smirk faded to a grimace as I lifted my tear-filled eyes to the night sky. I hope Mother saw that. I hope she is proud of me for finally fighting back. I am strong. I am resilient.

Chapter Text

     After the guards found Torygg's body, it didn't take them long to figure out what had happened. They found me at home with his blood on my hands. I was cold, hungry, and weak. They hauled me off to the orphanage where I was sentenced to nine years of chores and more bullying... but at least I had food and a warm bed. No one wanted to adopt me. They all knew what I had done even though I never talked about it. Occasionally, I'd run away back to the old house just to curl up in my mother's chair and have some time to myself. I never stopped thinking about her. The guards would show up within an hour and take me back to the orphanage. I didn't argue or put up a fight. I was always one to respect authority...

     But now I was free. The moment I turned sixteen I was out of there. They were glad to see me go, even though I had tried my best to stay in line and do as I was told. This violent reputation would stay with me as long as I lived in this town.

     Upon my release from the orphanage, I immediately returned to the house which had since been boarded up to keep the riff-raff out. After regaining access, I found the place to be just the way I had left it... though a lot dustier and many more vermin and insects about. I was in no hurry to clean up and would rather get my thoughts in order. I was legally independent but I felt no different than I did the day before. With no parent, guide, or mentor, I was at a loss as to how to make something of myself.

     I knelt down to peer inside the fireplace. The ash from a decade past was settled into a fine grain on the hearth. I would need to collect wood for my first night back. I also realized that it would be a lot harder to steal food now that I was much bigger than I was. 

     As I stood and turned to face the room, my gaze fell upon Mother's old rocking chair... there was a note lying in the middle of the seat. I instantly felt my stomach drop as the irrational thought that she was still here forced its way into my already frazzled mind. I nervously picked it up and flipped it over. In the middle was a single-inked handprint and the words, "We know" scribed across the bottom. The parchment was new and did not have a speck of dust on it.

     I could feel the hair on the back of my neck stand on end and my eyes scanned around the empty room. I was sure it was related to Torygg's death. I never admitted to anything and assumed that enough time had passed that people would have moved on... was someone trying to mess with me?

     Rumors came and went about an organization called the Dark Brotherhood which had long since made Bruma one of its havens. No one knew where they were or what they were doing, but we were all aware of their existence. A few times word got out about a murder around town. Many would speculate that it was the Brotherhood's doing. No one was ever arrested for the crime and there was very little investigation. Torygg had accused my mother of being part of this shady group but I knew that wasn't possible. She was way too weak to hurt anyone and I was with her all the time. Yet, the ominous note made me feel very paranoid. If this secret organization knew about what I had done to Torygg... why would they be contacting me now?

     I got myself a dagger. An ebony one I stole from a produce vendor when his back was turned. I felt that it would be wise to have some protection. After receiving the note, it felt like eyes were always on me. Always watching. I didn't know what they were thinking but they were judging me. They knew. What did they know? What did they believe? What might they do? It was best to be armed with something I could conceal. I was positive I was being watched.

~

     "Do you dream of a better life, child?" a man's voice rumbled, ripping me from my slumber. I pulled the dagger from beneath my pillow and flipped over, swinging it at the shadowy figure perched above my bed. There was a loud clank and a spark of light as my blade collided with metal. My eyes came into focus and I could see the hooded man standing there holding a uniquely shaped blade against mine, a calm smile on his face.

     "W-... who are you?" I asked, unable to move as his cold blue eyes stared into mine, "What do you want?"

     "The question isn't so much what I want... but rather, what do you want?" he lowered his blade confidently and took a step back. 

     I sat up slowly still white knuckle gripping the hilt of my dagger defensively, "Take whatever you want. I own nothing of value."

     "I am not here to rob you, child, but rather to make you an offer," his voice was soothing and almost enthusiastic.

     "Are you the one who has been watching me?"

     "Perceptive. Your paranoia is justified. I am Speaker Ronan of the Dark Brotherhood faction of Bruma. You caught our eye many years ago. Now that you are of age, you could be of use to us. We wish to test your prowess."

     I could feel myself beginning to sweat even though the room was quite cold, "The Dark Brotherhood has been watching me? Is this about my mother? Was.. was she part of this?"

     "She has employed our services in years prior. But our client dealings are confidential. This isn't about her... this is about you, young Cicero."

     Hearing my name from this stranger's mouth was jarring, "Then that note was from you, I take it..." I loosened my grasp on my blade as the man began pacing around the small room.

     "You have a potential that we value in the Dark Brotherhood. It seems that we may be able to help one another."

     At any other point in my life, I'd have immediately declined his offer. I had enough troubles as it was, I didn't need to be affiliated with a known criminal organization-... but in that moment, I felt utterly alone in the world... helpless and confused, "I'm listening..."

     "You need a family. A purpose. A goal..." his voice grew deep, "A mother?"

     I squinted at him as the rumors of this cult resurfaced in my mind. None of this made any sense.

     "You can have all of these things," he continued, "We are a family. Loyalty breeds loyalty. We can take care of you. But we must first test your aptitude."

     I admit, the prospect of safety was incredibly tempting, "Aptitude for what?"

     Speaker Ronan reached into his robe and pulled out a folded piece of parchment. He held it out to me with a warm smile, "On this, you will find the name and description of a target. Eliminate him discreetly and without question. Once the job is complete, I will contact you again and your initiation will continue."

     I hesitated before taking the paper. He was asking me to murder someone. Someone I didn't even know. But for what reason?

     "If you choose to ignore this mission, you will forfeit your invitation into our Family and you may find that things will become a bit more difficult for you."

     "Is that a threat?"

     Ronan chuckled and held his dagger out to me, hilt first, "Hardly, child. But it will be decidedly more difficult to make friends in this town. If you catch my drift."

     We held eye contact as I took the blade. His stare was chilling but I tried my best to appear unaffected, though his perpetual grin suggested that I was not pulling it off very well.

     "Use this blade. I trust you will make the wise decision and follow through. You will be watched. Hail Sithis, my child." Ronan bowed deeply before turning and leaving through the shadows in which he came.

~

     The target's name was Garrot. He was a big Nord out of Skyrim and was well-known for thievery and swindling. He had made a lot of enemies over the years and used bribery to keep out of the eye of the law. One of his most recent victims hired the Dark Brotherhood to take him out after being swindled of almost two thousand gold.

     The client was in Riverwood, a town in southern Skyrim near the Cyrodiil border. It was only half a day's trip through the Jerall mountains and up the river. The client had lured the target to this small village to make the job easier for me—fewer potential witnesses.

     I perched on the roof of a local tavern as the night dragged on. The air was frigid and the sky was overcast as rain was beginning to sprinkle. It was my first time in Skyrim and it was a shame that I would not have the ability to see what it had to offer. The rich and diverse wilderness and the rustic architecture felt different from what I had grown up around. I knew then that I wanted to travel. I wanted to see not just Cyrodiil, but all that Tamriel had to offer.

     My attention was pulled back to the moment by the sound of the tavern door slamming. This was it. The contact said that he would lure him to the tavern and convince the target to have a few drinks over talk of business. The added alcohol should make it easier to take down this behemoth of a Nord. It took a moment before he made his way down the steps and out from under the awning into my line of sight. He staggered a bit, catching himself on the railing. I needed to be quick and precise. The sound of the rain picking up was also in my favor.

     I unsheathed the special blade I was given and slowly rose to my feet. Garrot was mumbling to himself and seemed quite inebriated. He turned back toward the tavern entrance as if he had forgotten something and was planning on going back in. It was now or never. I leaped from the roof and landed in the middle of him. The unexpected collision threw him off balance and he tumbled to the ground like a wounded troll. He barely had a moment to react before I swiftly plunged the dagger down, aiming for the heart. Through his thrashing, I missed my target and got him in the shoulder instead.

     "Run!" he gasped as he grabbed for my arms trying to immobilize me. I stabbed him again, this time hitting his lung. Garrot's ability to fight me off decreased as he quickly bled out. "Go..." he gasped as he clawed me, blood splattering across my face, "Njadya... run..."

     I hesitated only for a moment before lifting my blade once more and slicing him across the throat. So much blood... Memories of Torygg's murder suddenly flooded in. I became lightheaded as the rush of adrenaline pumped through me. I felt powerful and exhilarated. I stood slowly and stumbled back from the fallen Nord trying to catch my breath when something caught my eye. I glanced up at the entrance to the tavern.

     A girl. A young blonde girl perhaps five or six years younger than me was standing on the porch out of the rain. She was staring at the man I had just slain.

     "...Papa...?"

     I began to feel ill as she lifted her gaze to me; her wide jade-green eyes were full of terror as if staring into the face of a monster. 

     I was unable to speak or move. Her chest heaved as the realization set in. She began to panic and promptly turned to run back inside. I glanced down at my trembling hand covered in her papa's blood. 

    The thrill of the kill had quickly turned to regret. My mother's death had displaced me, leaving me to desperately seek my place in life... just to murder this girl's father before her very eyes, displacing her, forever altering hers. I did something. I made a change. I affected the world... But was it worth it?

...Everything happens for a reason.

Chapter Text

     The moons were almost directly overhead in the clear night sky. Mother estimated it to be about midnight. Casually, she approached the shrine of the Webspinner, Deadric Prince Mephala. The crisp light from the moons highlighted the towering statue's threatening outline making it appear to almost be alive. Mother removed a handful of nightshade blossoms from her robe and placed them at the base of the altar. She took several steps back and stared up at the monstrous face of the statue with its mouth agape, displaying a long lizard-like tongue. A moment passed before the eyes began to glow.

     A raspy whisper emanated from the shrine, "To what do I owe this personal visit?"

     "Personal, indeed," Mother replied with frustration in her voice, "You take me for a fool."

     "Well... those who run with fools find themselves living as one."

     "What is your game, Mephala?" Mother crossed her arms.

     "Game? I have no business with you."

     "I understand the deal with the Wrath," she began to pace in a small line, "You want the Dragonborn's child and that is not an issue."

     "Then why have you taken the time to summon me?" Mephala's tone seemed more intrigued than annoyed.

     "I know there's more to it than that," Mother continued, "You gave that damned blade to my Keeper."

     "It seemed an appropriate baby shower gift in exchange for his offspring."

     "You know that was not your intention. I don't care what your deal with Wrath was, but you leave Cicero out of it."

     "Did you not enjoy the bloodbath in Markarth?"

     "I understand your grievances against the Dark Brotherhood, but he is mine. Do what you wish with the child and stay on your end of the deal."

     "Ha! You speak like he is your own blood."

     "He is the most loyal follower I've had and I respect that. I have plans for him and I will not allow your lust for chaos to interfere."

     "Your little Ancient Blood uprising?" Mephala sounded amused.

     "I am aware that you use that portal in the Falmer's eye. I will not step beyond my jurisdiction by removing it, as you will not step beyond yours by playing mind games with my Keeper," Mother's tone was firm, "Are we clear?"

     "Removing it? Oh, my... you speak like you forget that you once again bear a mortal body."

     Mother frowned, "Is that a threat?"

     "Not at all," Mephala's light tone shifted to serious, "But I will be watching until that child is within my sphere."

     Mother squinted, "Within? A mortal infant within the Spiral Skein? How?"

     "The details are not of your concern."

     "Ah... I see," she smirked and knowingly shook her head, "You're working with someone else, aren't you?"

     "You seem very interested in the affairs of the Daedra for someone who draws a line of her own jurisdiction..."

     "We are rivals, Mephala. You and my Dark Brotherhood. I know your ways better than any scholar," Mother crossed her arms, "Many of which assume us the same deity... but mark my words. If you dare meddle in the affairs of the Dread Father, affecting the Uprising, or simply playing with Cicero's head... all of Mundus will feel the imminent reprisal."

     "Ha! You are merely a talking head."

     "I speak for Sithis."

     "The Wrath speaks for Sithis. You gave up that position when you decided to return to the flesh."

     Mother glowered, "I hold more influence than you could ever imagine."

     "Idle threats."

     "Underestimate me. It'll be fun," she turned to leave.

     "I'll be keeping an eye on you," Mephala laughed wickedly as the eyes of the statue faded.

~

     It was just before dawn the following day when Mother arrived in Cheydinhal. She held the bottom of her hood closed over her nose as she walked through the dark and quiet streets. Sticking to the shadows, she managed to find her way to the old abandoned house at the far edge of town.

     Immediately, as she approached, Mother could see a scattered trail of blood spatter near the front gate. Her heart began to race but she reminded herself that it could be anything. She pushed the gate open and followed the trail to the front door which was slightly ajar. Bloody fingerprints danced around the scratched-up lock which had been broken. It was clear that someone was desperate to get in. Using the tip of her dagger, she slowly pushed the door open and peered into the darkness. All was silent.

     Mother stepped inside the musty, dank house and scanned the room before silently making her way to the cellar door which was also ajar. After listening for a moment, she followed the scattered blood droplets down into the basement. A soft red glow lit the foot of the steps just enough to recognize Cicero's new jester hat lying there. Her stomach sank as she picked it up to examine it, noticing that it was also spattered with blood. She lifted her gaze to the broken stone wall at the back of the cellar where the warm red light was pouring from.

     With her dagger still drawn, She slowly approached the hole. A low pulsing bass gradually became audible, matching the sound of her heart beating in her ears. Mother cautiously stepped through the break in the wall and turned to see someone lying in a small puddle of blood at the base of the Black Door.

     "Cicero..." Mother exhaled, sheathing her dagger. She knelt beside him and touched his face. It was very warm. "I'm sorry..." she whispered as she lifted him to rest his head on her lap. She brushed his bloody hair out of his face and watched him breathing slowly, "It was necessary. I'd never put you in peril if it wasn't."

     "...I met my half-sister..." Cicero mumbled. His voice was hoarse, "She's a bitch."

     Mother couldn't help but smile a little. Zukira's essence rose within, "Where are you hurt?"

     "Not my blood," he whispered, his eyes still closed, "Cicero is tired... so very tired..."

     "You're still running a bad fever."

     "I sent Marcus to the Void... had to fight my way out of the city," he mumbled, "My leg's been acting up. Limped the whole way here..."

     "I'm sorry, my child..."

     "Thank you."

     "...?"

     "...for giving me this opportunity."

     "Of course," Mother continued to stroke his hair back, "Now we move forward. You've spent enough time drowning in the sins of your past. I need you now."

     Cicero took a deep breath and shifted to pull himself up into a sitting position. He was sweating profusely and quite lightheaded, "Cicero is at your service, Sweet Mother."

     "I wanted to meet up with you here to explain the next phase of the Dark Brotherhood. This requires your focus," she explained as she stood and held her hand out to him. Cicero graciously accepted her assistance and managed to get to his feet with a bit of effort.

     "I'm always eager," he forced a smile and wiped some of the blood from his nose. Mother turned to the Black Door and recited the passphrase gaining entrance.

     As the door slowly slid open, a gust of cool stale air flowed out. Cicero shivered a little. The smell was too familiar. This was the place where his life came to a screeching halt. This was the hole where his friends and family all died one by one. This was where he lost himself to the madness.

     Mother stepped in and conjured a small orb of light to illuminate the wide main hall and began lighting candles with her flame magic. Cicero paced around trying to find his second wind. Everything was just as he had left it almost a year before. Stacks of books along the walls. So much reading he did. The door to the training hall was still propped open by the corpse of a skeever that had managed to find its way in. All bones now, of course. 

     There were still pelts piled on the floor in the corner where the Night Mother's coffin once stood; a dark imprint on the stone floor was all that remained. After he began to realize that no one was coming back, he started sleeping near her. Perhaps for comfort or perhaps out of paranoia. The entire eight years that followed were fuzzy and ever since regaining his sanity recently, intrusive memories began to surface. Oh, the terrible things he did just to survive another night.

     Mother turned and placed her hands on his shoulders, "You've been my soldier, Cicero. My defender. My Keeper. And now I'm promoting your rank once more."

     Cicero raised his eyebrows. The only rank above Keeper was Listener and that was no longer needed. His interest was piqued.

     "You have proven yourself worthy time and time again and as the only remaining original member of the Orthodox Brotherhood, I am promoting  you to the rank of Knower."

     Cicero opened his mouth to speak but wasn't sure what to say. A mere squeak slipped out instead.

     "The Children of the Ancient Blood are ready to be trained. They may retain memories from their previous lives, but with the infused souls of my children, they are clean slates. I'm leaving it to you to teach them everything you know about combat, stealth, evasion, and devotion to the Brotherhood," she said looking him right in the eye, "We will not accept failure at the hands of mortals and their petty qualms any longer. Enough betrayal. Enough ulterior motives. The Dark Brotherhood does not run on coin. We run on souls."

     Mother took Cicero by the arm and led him through the hall to the back corridor, "My five children will each be trained to become the Speaker for their own sanctuaries. We are reopening as many strongholds as we can around Tamriel. Falkreath, Daggerfall, Corinthe, Anvil, and even the ruins of Xith-Izkul... and once all is in place, you are to return here to run Cheydinhal."

     Cicero squeaked again. He was so overcome with emotion and the delirium from his fever was making it difficult for him to focus. As they entered the Speaker's living quarters, Mother lit a candle on the table in the back corner and gestured to the chair beside it. Cicero shuffled over and took a seat facing an old broken mirror.

     Mother leaned over his shoulder to speak directly into his ear as they both stared at his reflection, "You are to forget about the Dragonborn. Your focus is on your new responsibility as Knower. You have complete control over the other members and they must abide. You are the Father now. They are your children. Raise them well, and you will be rewarded within the Void as Speaker LaChance was."

     "...Yes, Mother. I-... I'm truly honored," he said softly but with a note of confidence.

     Forget Jade...? Forget his past. As much as it pained him to just write off his feelings for her and the pending prospect of his future lineage... this is what he had wanted his entire life. The Night Mother had just handed him his dream on a platter. If becoming the most powerful member of the Dark Brotherhood (save for Mother and Wrath) meant taking his heart back from Jade and removing her as a distraction... then-

     "It's a fresh start, my child," Mother stood and placed her hands on the backs of his shoulders, "You are reborn. It's time to do things right. You belong to the Brotherhood."

     "I belong to the Brotherhood."

     "You have a purpose. Now clean yourself up and get some rest. We will head back to Skyrim at dusk."

     "Thank you, Mother," he smiled at her in the mirror as she turned to leave. 

     His eyes slowly drifted back to his reflection. She was right, though. It was time for him to regain himself. He'd spent so much time running and hiding from everything that it was a bit nerve-wracking to suddenly be thrust into a position of power. 

     ...Jade liked men with power. She liked powerful men with influence and control-

     Stop.

     Stop thinking about her. She was gone. She chose to leave. She didn't love him. She didn't even care about him. She left him to die. Forget her. She was dead to him. That woman was nothing but a pain...

     ...She was in pain. He'd seen fragments of her past. The abuse she sustained from her Uncles while growing up. She was hurting. She needed to be saved from herself. Oh, how he wished he could save her-

     No. Stop it. She did it to herself. She pushed him away. Why would he want to be close to a vile, entitled, narcissistic, demanding, loud, unladylike, pompous-

     -scared, broken, tormented, fragile, beautiful...

     Cicero closed his eyes and pinched his sinus as his head began throbbing again. This was exactly why he needed to move on. Jade was a distraction. Women were always a distraction. They smell so good and they just look at you with those deep passionate eyes... the curves of their bodies beckoning to be caressed. A warm embrace... her breath was soft upon his earlobe. A chill ran up his spine.

     STOP IT, CICERO.

     He wiped the sweat from his feverish face while continuing to stare at himself in the broken mirror. "Reborn," he mumbled and unsheathed his dagger. Gripping a lock of his bloody hair, Cicero lifted the blade.

Chapter Text

Live Falmer report: Entry 07
Date: Loredas, 16th of Frostfall, 4E 201
Time: Late afternoon, around 16:00
Location: Dawnstar, Northern Skyrim
Weather: Fair

     The female Falmer has exited the mysterious dwelling with the male Bosmer. It has been several days since I've seen her. I'm not sure what's inside, how many people reside there, or what its purpose even is. While attempting to gain access, I quickly found that an unnatural dark force was keeping it locked up tight. Without some sort of passphrase, I don't think I'll be able to make much progress in my investigation regarding that mystery.

     Note to self: Look into hiring a scout to track down the passphrase... or coerce a goon to simply bust the door in. Perhaps there's another entrance. I'll keep scoping after dark.

     They (the occupants of the bizarre dwelling) refer to the Falmer as Ruby. That is most likely an epithet or a pet name since in all of my research, I've never seen that word used within the Falmeri language. I'm assuming that it's in reference to the gemstone and the unique coloring of the girl's right eye.

     The subject appears to be learning the Tamrielic language remarkably fast. When I removed the collar, it seemed as if she didn't know or understand much and relied heavily on expression and body language to communicate. Was the race more intelligent than originally thought? Could the Dwemer masterminds have altered her physically or through selective breeding to cause such a rapid absorption of knowledge?

     The scars on the subject's body are consistent with Dwemer-style weapons suggesting she was indeed a slave. Inspecting the collar and shackles revealed that they can be dated back to the first era. It is unclear how they came to be on this young mer, or how she could even exist in the undevolved state she's in. The subject should be one of those blind monstrosities. If she is from the first era, how could she have lived so long? Based on the physical appearance of all other known mer, she looks quite young. Snow elves have been known to live on average for two hundred/two hundred fifty years like any other mer, yet she appears to be in her early to mid-twenties, at best. It's almost like she traveled through time. 

     Could there be some sort of Daedric influence? The Oblivion Window in her eye leads me to believe that one of the Princes might know something of this chronological anomaly... and I have my suspicions as to which one.

     I need to get closer to her again. She may be just what I need. She's possibly the last of her kind and her genetics are priceless. If she is from the first era, she could tell me more about the Dwemer. A first-hand account. She may be the very piece to the puzzle I've been missing. I need to get closer to her. I need to earn her trust again.

     I have to find a way to get her to follow me away from this dreadful place. The other inhabitants appear to be running a shady business and are potentially dangerous. I'd likely need some hired muscle if I am to attempt to make contact again... It might just be best to lead her away.

     The subject seems particularly fond of two of the inhabitants. In the few times that I've seen her outside, she has been with the male Bosmer. Horns. Violet hair... He's that edgy kid who was with her at the college. He knows more about her than I do and I need that info. I dare not confront him, though. From what Quen had said, he's a wanted criminal. Speaking of Quen, I've been unable to locate her since the incident in the Midden. She seemed quite angry and seeing that the fugitive escaped her custody, she's probably even less pleasant to be around. Where is she, anyway? I know she'd love to learn of this place...

     The other occupant is an Imperial. I've only seen him a few times and I'm certain he has spotted me once. He appears to have a drinking problem and doesn't look very healthy. The Falmer seems especially affectionate toward him in particular. Are these men using her as some sort of concubine!? Could this bizarre dwelling be some filthy brothel for men with exotic tastes? That would explain the need for a passcode! 

     I've seen only one other female leave this place. A Dunmer, younger, perhaps mid-thirties, dressed in the same black and red tunic as the Bosmer. However, the attire of these people doesn't suggest a sex cult or illicit retreat for lascivious deviants. More like a niche religious sect or criminal underground for hire.

     Note to self: Research religious cults. This could be something very new or something very old. The dwelling may in fact be some sort of private sanctuary. I see that symbol of the black handprint on some of their armor and robes. Clearly a code. I recall mention of a Padomay-adjacent worshipping assassin organization out of Wayrest that used such symbolism. Decades ago...

     The subject, on the other hand, dresses quite provocatively. I had first met her while she was clothed in a very rich and elegant silk gown. Low-cut top... cleavage. Recently she's been spotted wearing a strange (yet salacious) festival-type motley. I've noted that the Imperial that she fancies also wears the donkey-eared hat of a merryman. What's that about? My mind returns to the sex cult again. Perhaps they role play...

     Today she appears to be wearing a more conservative winter ensemble. Modest. Respectable. Odd choice for the culture of Skyrim. Dyed pink. It looks new and clean. Despite my reservations about the creepy inhabitants, they must be taking care of her. She's not their slave, at least not in the conventional sense. This could make it even more difficult to get my hands on her.

~~~~

     Ruby knelt at the edge of the water and began clearing away some of the sand with her fingertips. She picked up a smooth stone and examined it.

     "That's a lovely one," Sage said, leaning over her to see, "How many do you need?"

     Ruby shrugged and placed the stone in a small coin purse with many others. She stood and walked along the shore a few more steps before kneeling again and poking through the sand.

     "Are these for an art project?" Sage followed and knelt as well, "Or you just like collecting pretty things?"

     Ruby smiled at him, "Beauty of gem," she lifted the gold and ruby necklace from around her neck, "Finding?"

     Sage sighed. She was always showing off that stupid necklace. There's no way Cicero even paid for that. He didn't have a single septim to his name. Sage paid, in his opinion, way too much for that blue silk dress that Ruby later cut up to make her jester outfit; A jester outfit to no doubt try to win Cicero's attention. 

     Why did she like that fool so much? Not only was he goofy-looking and unattractive, but he was old! Easily twice her age! Was she into older men? Sage was nineteen but he had the knowledge of scholars centuries older. In his short life, he had accomplished a lot more than most would ever even dream of. Unfortunately, he was unable to share most of his story with those around him. Keeping his past private was keeping him alive and he had no intention of giving his people the satisfaction of reclaiming his soul for so-called 'cultural justice'. Sage planned on living for a very long time, even if it meant changing his name, appearance, and 'career' every few years. 

     He wanted Ruby to come with him though. She was his ideal woman. Beautiful, voluptuous, trusting, and most importantly innocent. She'd never hurt him on purpose. She always smiled when he looked at her and followed him around the sanctuary- when Cicero wasn't around anyway. 

     Cicero. That asshole. He makes her cry. Sage would slit his throat in his sleep if it didn't mean having to start over again. He was already enemies with international law, he didn't need the Dark Brotherhood on his ass, too. They were the only people willing to take him in, no questions asked.

     Ruby suddenly gasped and jumped up, running up the beach a bit more before leaning down to scoop up something green and shiny, "Beauty!" she cheered and held it up for Sage to see.

     He made his way over and squinted as the sun reflected off of it, "Ruby, that's a piece of glass."

     "Beauty," she repeated and put it in the coin purse.

     "It's not a treasure. It's probably from a broken bottle some wino chucked out here while on a binge."

     Ruby knelt down where she had found the glass and began digging more. Sage crossed his arms and lifted his gaze up the shore toward the abandoned tent, "You need to be careful," he mumbled, "I don't want you to get hurt."

     Ruby looked up at him and smiled brightly, "Sage is good," she giggled.

     "Remember, I'll always look out for you. I don't ever want to see you cry again..."

     Ruby found another piece of broken glass and began washing it in the tide.

     "Especially if it's Cicero's doing," he continued.

     "Cicero!" Ruby chirped, delighted to hear his name.

     "Yeah, Cicero," Sage knelt down beside her and placed his hand on her back, "Ruby... if Cicero ever touches or harms you... I will kill him. You know this, right?"

     Ruby paused and stared into the tide. She could feel a strange emotion coming from him. It was a complicated mix of anxiety and vexation.

     "He doesn't love you," Sage tugged lightly at the tips of her curls on the back of her head, "He loves Jade. But now that she is gone, he might try to use you..."

     Ruby glanced at his face. She didn't understand a lot of what he was saying, but she knew something was wrong. Was he trying to warn her of something?

     "He could take out his aggression on you. He's not stable. Never has been. It would be best if you would just stay away from Cicero altogether."

     "Away from Cicero?" she asked in a startled tone.

     "Yeah," Sage nodded, pleased that she understood that much, "He's volatile. It's not safe for you to be alone around him. You shouldn't share his bed anymore. He might try to have his way with you."

     Ruby blinked.

     "Force himself on you," Sage clarified, "He'll try to rape you. But don't worry. You can sleep with me. I won't let him touch you-"

     Ruby frowned and stood up suddenly. "Love for Cicero," she said boldly.

     Sage stood as well, "No. It's not love. He will hurt you, Ruby. I'm the only one here who knows what kind of person he actually is. I can protect you."

     "Love for Cicero!" Ruby stomped her foot, "Ruby give love for Cicero!"

     Sage clenched his jaw. He took a deep breath through his nose and nodded slightly, "You clearly don't understand what I'm saying. But I'll help you understand-"

     Ruby's attention suddenly shifted back toward the sanctuary entrance as the sound of horse hooves slowed and stopped nearby. Her eyes grew large with excitement. She brushed past Sage and took off in a run. Without even turning, Sage knew who it was. He closed his eyes for a moment trying to calm himself.

     "CICERO!!" Ruby sprinted toward the horses, stumbling a few times in her eagerness. 

     Cicero dismounted his horse and glanced over with a half smile on his face. He was unable to even offer a proper greeting before she launched into his arms.

     "Ruby love for Cicero," her voice was muffled with her face pressed into his chest. She gripped onto him as tightly as she could. 

      "I missed you too, Miss Ruby."

     Mother dismounted Shadowmere, half-watching the reunion. The Falmer girl didn't appear to be a distraction for Cicero. If anything, she was a positive influence on his mentality. She took good care of him, kept him accountable, and didn't drive him up the wall with drama and irrational outbursts like the Listener had.

     Ruby lifted her face to look up at him when her smile suddenly faltered. Cicero's grin also faded upon seeing this."What's wrong?" he asked.

     "Oh..." Curiously, Ruby reached up and tugged the ear flap of his jester cap, slowly sliding it off his head, "OH!" she ran her fingers through his newly cut hair. It was choppy and horribly disheveled. The look of devastation on her face suggested that she didn't approve.

     "It's okay," Cicero smiled weakly and gently took the jester cap from her, "Cicero had a fever... he wasn't thinking straight."

     "Gone...?" Ruby asked in a tiny voice as she tugged gently at the tips of his messy locks.

     "For now," he tussled her hair in return, "Fresh start. Cicero is getting himself together." he put the cap back on his head realizing how much colder it was without hair covering the back of his neck.

     Sage finally lumbered over to them sporting a sour expression on his face.

     Mother turned to him and squinted, "Initiate. Why were you on the beach?" she asked in a stern tone, "Don't you have more important things to do?"

     "Of course, Mother," Sage bowed respectfully, "It's just... the Ancient B-... your children. They are awake and it's become a bit..." he twisted his mouth to the side trying to choose his words wisely, "...a bit crowded."

     "Oh, give me a break," Mother huffed and headed for the entrance, "They are your superiors and you will learn to deal with them."

     Sage grunted and jerked his head to the side to crack his neck. He was visibly very tense.

      Cicero waited for Mother to enter the sanctuary before clearing his throat loudly, "Speaking of superiors... I have been promoted as well." He grinned while still awkwardly balancing Ruby as she continued to cling to him.

     Sage squinted, "Promoted to what? King of Fools?"

     "Might be wise to watch your tongue, kiddo," Cicero finally reached down to lift Ruby and she locked her legs around him like an excitable child being carried by a parent, "Save for the Night Mother, I outrank everyone here. I am the Knower."

     "What in Oblivion is a 'Knower'?"

     "I guess you wouldn't know," he stuck his tongue out.

     Cicero proceeded to carry Ruby toward the black door. Though his awkward stride suggested some difficulty, he managed to keep a confident pace.

     "So this is how it's going to be, now?" Sage called angrily.

     "It's whatever you want it to be, initiate!"

     Suddenly, they were both caught off guard by a loud rustling sound followed by a series of snaps. Sage and Cicero glanced up at a large pine tree near the cliff face as it swished about. Something- no, someone had fallen out of it.

     Cicero set Ruby down and quickly unsheathed his dagger. Sage could not believe his eyes. It was the Breton from the college. Sebastian coughed and groaned in pain as he frantically tried to pull himself out of the pile of broken branches. He grabbed his dropped notebook and quickly stashed it in a flat metal case attached to his belt.

     "You again!" Cicero yelled, "Now you're mine!"

     Sebastian gasped in reply and, with no safe direction to run, bolted out into the icy waters of the Sea of Ghosts. The metal plates of his Dwarven armor didn't seem to thwart his adrenaline-charged swimming ability. Cicero paused at the edge of the water. There was no way he was following him in. The harbor wasn't wide so the Breton didn't have to swim far to safety.

     This was the second time Cicero had spotted the lanky trespasser, but there was no telling how long he'd been stalking around. Despite his frail appearance, the guy was a problem that needed to be dealt with.

    The ground suddenly began to shake as a gust of frigid wind blew past Cicero. He glanced back to see Sage holding his staff in the air in the midst of casting a summon. Within a burst of blue light, a massive frost atronach materialized on the shore. Sage tilted his wrist, gesturing toward Sebastian. The hulking ice creature immediately made haste, wading through the water in pursuit.

     Sage confidently lowered his arm and, for added sport, lifted his other hand to shoot a few ice spikes toward the fleeing target. The snide smirk on his face suggested that he didn't feel threatened by the perceived invasion and was more entertained as he showed off his magic prowess in front of Ruby.

     "What do you know about this?" Cicero huffed as he stormed over to the arrogant Bosmer.

     Sage snorted, "Know about what?"

     "That guy! I've seen him creeping around here before."

     "No idea," Sage lied and shrugged, "I figured you'd know... being 'the Knower' and all..."

     Cicero frowned. With his new title, he knew there'd be some resistance from the others. Sage especially. Even though he had the authority to discipline as he pleased, Cicero knew better than to abuse his boost of power. He wanted his subordinates to respect him... and maybe fear him. Just a little.

Chapter Text

     Leaving Sage to deal with the situation outside, Cicero made his way into the Sanctuary. Ruby followed, holding tightly to his arm. She could feel his aura swell with pride and optimism. This new positive vibe excited her. His new messy haircut, however... not so much.

     As they reached landing above the main hall, Ruby suddenly released from his arm. Cicero began down the steps before he realized something was wrong and turned to look back up at her.

     "What's wrong?" he asked seeing the nervous look on her face. She was staring down at the dining table below. Cicero glanced back to look as well. Someone was sitting there. A petite man with long dark hair. Cicero lifted his hand signaling to Ruby to wait. He then cautiously continued down the steps.

     The unknown person, dressed in what appeared to be ancient Brotherhood light armor, was seated at the table with his back to the room.  As Cicero approached, he was startled by a flash of red in the corner of his eye and before he could even react,  a  large crimson-colored hawk swooped down and perched upon the man's shoulder. The stranger didn't seem alarmed, suggesting that the bird was his pet. It shifted and locked its bright yellow eyes on Cicero as if sending a warning.

     A chill ran up his spine. Cicero was not a fan of birds, even less so the kind with sharp talons ready to claw your eyes out. Animals were unpredictable, especially when trained by violence-prone humans... and this hawk was undoubtedly protective of its owner.

     With his new promotion to Knower, Cicero had the responsibility to be more aware of the other members of the Sanctuary and make sure they knew who he was as well. He cleared his throat and straightened his posture hoping to appear larger than he actually was. "Um, initiate?" he asked quietly, never losing eye contact with the foul.

     The man still didn't reply or even move. Awkwardly, Cicero glanced back toward the landing at the top of the stairs. Ruby was gone. He was beginning to understand what had her so bothered. Something didn't feel right about this unresponsive rookie. 

     "So... Nazir recruited you?" Cicero asked calmly, keeping his distance as he paced by the table toward the cooking station. Again he was met with silence. Sage's typical meat stew was simmering on the fire. He lifted the lid and inhaled the pleasant aroma; the spices helping to clear his sinus. 

     Cicero helped himself to a serving while watching the man in the corner of his eye. That damn bird was still staring at him. He hesitated as he reconsidered sitting at the table. Maybe he could just come back later and introduce himself after he got something in his stomach... give the man time to settle in as well...

      Cicero timidly walked back across the room keeping his eyes on the bird. As he passed behind the man, the hawk suddenly screeched, snapping its sharp beak and flapping its wings wildly. Cicero shrieked in panic as he stumbled away, dropping his bowl of stew in the process.

     "Red..." the small man finally spoke in a scratchy, tired tone.

     Cicero panted in frustration, staring down at the hot stew splattered across the floor. He glanced back up at the bird with intense eyes. It almost looked as if it was amused. He squinted and made a threatening gesture toward the unruly fowl.

     "I don't think she likes you," the man mumbled, turning his head stiffly to look back at him.

     Cicero felt a chill run up his spine as he found himself staring into the face of Krow, the little Redguard thief he had brutally murdered over a week before. He barely recognized him in the light. He subconsciously reached down and rubbed his thigh where Krow had stabbed him.

     "Ah, g-... good to see you?" Cicero wasn't sure how to greet someone who had basically just been born. The body was Krow, but the soul was the Ancient Blood. This wasn't the same man Cicero had murdered... well, not consciously, right? The Ancient Blood was just borrowing the vessel and memories, but it knew the difference... right?

     "Why do I hate your face?" Krow asked dryly. His eyes were dim and he seemed to be twitching a bit. The blade to the back of his head and being dead for several hours may have caused a bit of brain damage.

     "Uh... I'm... not sure," Cicero forced a smile, "Though, I've been told a lot of people hate my face."

     "I have this overwhelming urge to claw your eyes out and feed them to you." Krow tapped the tips of his metal talons on the table rhythmically.

     "Yeah... I get that a lot too," Cicero realized that the soul was accessing Krow's personal memories as their own and was seemingly confused. That might make things rather difficult in the future.

     "Red doesn't seem to like you, either."

     "The bird..." Cicero flinched as he made eye contact with the judgmental hawk again.

     "My head hurts..." the small Redguard grunted and stiffly turned back to the table. His body was clearly still recovering from being resurrected.

     Cicero slowly backed away while keeping his eyes on the hawk. He sidestepped around his spilled stew before turning and quickly making his way back upstairs. Sage could clean that up.

~

     After a much-needed nap in the initiates' quarters, Cicero decided that he should write up some lesson plans for his new students to get his mind in order. Mother had ordered him to begin training the five Ancient Blood 'children' in the basic arts of assassination and contract fulfillment. The Dark Brotherhood had a lot of unspoken etiquette and unlabeled layers of hierarchy that needed to be addressed with the students before taking on actual clients. Cicero was originally chosen to be Keeper because he was tenacious, trustworthy, and by-the-book. His promotion to Knower was literally the embodiment of these qualities.

     Back in his early twenties, Speaker Ronan had noticed his focus and skill and assigned him to train several fellow Brotherhood initiates, including Zukira. It was no fluke, though. Cicero had poured his blood, sweat, and tears into his own training. He wanted to be the best. He wanted to be respected and acknowledged by his superiors. His sacrifices paid off with his promotion to Keeper... even though it meant staying his blade, it was an honorable role. 

     Meeting Jade dramatically changed Cicero's outlook on his role as Keeper... But that was in the past. Jade was gone and he was back on track. He was now the Knower. The man with the plan. The teacher with decades of assassination proficiency under his belt. He was probably one of the few people left with such knowledge of the history of the Dark Brotherhood and its techniques. Mother was wise in her decision to give him this title. Mother was always so wise.

     Cicero entered the master bedroom and took a seat at the table in the corner. It had been a while since he'd been in there. This was Mother's quarters now. Before, Jade would never allow him to enter even though it was where much of the Sanctuary's logs and business planning were handled. Not that she even knew what to do with it all and simply left the paperwork to Nazir. Such a lazy woman... Whatever.

      He flipped open a blank journal before reaching for a quill and vial of ink. The Ancient Blood each had their own sets of skills as acquired from the previous 'owners' of the vessels. The skills were there but needed to be honed and properly utilized for the Brotherhood's needs. So that should be first on the agenda for building his curriculum; Find out what each student's talents are and go from there. He dipped the quill in the ink and began to write out a plan to outline his thoughts.

     "Why are you in here?" a deep voice growled from behind him. Cicero flinched sending a spatter of ink across the page. He glanced over his shoulder into the crotch of a very very large man. Wrath was towering above him uncomfortably close.

     Cicero gasped and leaned away in his chair, "Nothing! I mean! I'm writing! I didn't do anything!"

     Wrath huffed through his broad nose like an agitated bull.

     "M-Mother has assigned me to begin training the Ancient Blood," Cicero stuttered, "I've been promoted to-"

     "Knower. I'm aware," Wrath crossed his massive arms, "You are not qualified for this."

     "...What?"

     "You will not be training the magic users," he continued, "Quen, Tripp, and Meegs will be under my instruction."

     "W-... Mother said-"

     "You will work with the two you are most familiar with. Rage and Krow."

     Cicero frowned. Rage was the stocky orc who wanted to eat him... and Krow... well, Krow was already starting to seem like a problem, "At the risk of sounding conceited... Cicero is pretty confident in his own abilities to-"

     "And stop talking like that," Wrath took a step back from him, "It's not cute and it's obviously not helping you make friends."

     "...?"

     "You are barely qualified to train the bitch and the brain-damaged one. Look at you," Wrath scoffed, "You smell like you crawled out of a skeever's nest. Your jester schtick is obnoxious and distracting, and over the last few weeks your muscle mass has dwindled to the point that one could mistake you for a homely housewife who cries a lot."

     "Wha-?" Cicero couldn't believe his ears. This was the Wrath of Sithis!? How did he go from being a huge ominous beast of a man to this snarky, disrespectful jackass? Cicero had to remind himself that this wasn't actually Sithis incarnate. The Wrath was merely an avatar of flesh who was summoned to speak for the Dread Father. Now that the message of the Ancient Blood was delivered and the Uprising was underway, Sithis had nothing more to say. Sooo...

     "What exactly is your purpose, again?" Cicero squinted feeling cautiously rebellious.

     Wrath's eyes widened with intensity and he lifted his chin to look down his broad nose at him.

     "Why are you still here?" Cicero continued boldly, "You delivered the instructions and performed the rituals... now what?"

     "I am here to protect the Ancient Blood."

     "That seems unnecessary. That's why I'm here."

     "You are mistaken, mortal," Wrath growled, "You are here because I allow you to be here."

     "Ha," Cicero slid back in his chair feeling a lot less threatened, "I'm sure Mother would disagree."

     "The Night Mother has nothing to do with this. When you are killed, she will continue on with her endeavors without hesitation or grief."

     "Mother loves Cicero," Cicero muttered under his breath as he leaned back over his journal.

     "You are as disposable as her own children were."

     "Oh, yes. You are referring to the children of the Ancient Blood? The very ones we are arguing over? The future leaders of the Dark Brotherhood Uprising?"

     "You really are a fool, aren't you?" Wrath scowled.

     "I'm not afraid of you," Cicero ripped the ink-spattered page out of the journal and crumpled it up.

     "Exactly my point," the avatar turned to leave, "Take a bath, you swine."

     "Go sit on a sword..."

     Wrath stopped and looked back, "Care to repeat that, you insolent little shit?"

     "I said, 'Yes sir, my lord'."

     Wrath dramatically extended his arm and pointed at him, "You talk to me like that again, and I'll have you gutted, stuffed with horse manure, lit on fire, and hung from a post in the center of town."

     "MOTHER!" Cicero called in a childish tattletale tone. Wrath squinted his glowing red eyes and snarled before leaving the room.

     Cicero smirked and returned to his writing.

~

     The next morning, Cicero stood waiting impatiently in the training hall of the Sanctuary. His students were supposedly informed of the meeting and should have been there by now. What else did they have to do? They were quite literally reborn the other day!

     Rage was the first to arrive, "Oooh, I remember you..." she smirked and flipped her long bundle of braids over her shoulder, "You're that tasty little thing with the nasally voice and the cute butt. What'd you do to your hair?"

     Cicero crossed his arms defensively. He looked uncomfortable. "So you remember me..."

     "Well, it's whatever this vessel remembers, but damn, son... your ass looks TIGHT in those pants..." Rage tongued the corner of her mouth.

     Cicero cringed. Mother had mentioned having access to the memories and mannerisms of the former owner of the body... and clearly their personality as well. Mother was still Mother, though. Zukira's entire identity was gone. The Ancient Blood, on the other hand, died long before they were old enough to develop memories or even personalities. So it made sense that the vessels were specifically chosen for what the Uprising needed. They were like a blueprint, the Ancient Blood souls were the building materials, and the training was the actual construction. In other words, these 'kids' were a work in progress.

     "Please don't disrespect me like that," Cicero shifted around awkwardly. There was just something about Rage that made him feel particularly vulnerable.

     "You should eat something, babe," she mumbled as she examined his body like livestock, "You've got the ass of a god, but you sure could use some meat on them bones."

     That sentence had an entirely different meaning coming from her.

     "Where's your brother?" Cicero pushed to change the subject, "I'd like to get this orientation over with..."

     "Brother? Which one?"

     "Krow. The Redguard."

     "I don't know which one that is..."

     "What do you mean you don't-" Cicero paused. He didn't think about that. The five children were siblings, sure, but they probably had no idea who was who. Their former identities had been replaced. Not that they had former identities seeing as they died as infants.

     "Teacha, teacha, nice to meetcha!" Krow's voice echoed off the walls as he strutted into the training hall. That damn hawk was perched on his shoulder.

     "You're late," Cicero grunted.

     "I got lost and I don't know how to tell time," Krow smiled and winked at Rage.

     "Being punctual and aware of your surroundings is essential for an assassin," Cicero explained.

     "I'm sorry, man."

     "Knower."

     "A what?" Krow cocked his head to the side.

     "Knower Cicero. You will address me as Knower Cicero."

     "Knower of what?"

     "Your future," Cicero was already losing patience.

     "Oh, well, that's good to know cuz I have no idea what's going on," Krow laughed but was obviously serious. The hawk screeched. "Ah, that's right! Red wanted me to give you a gift." He lifted his hand and held out an apple while taking a slight bow, "An apple for teacher."

     Cicero's frown lingered. It was clearly dipped in poison. Heck, the damn thing was glowing. Rage smiled and held her hands up to accentuate the offering as if she had something to do with it as well.

     "Poison apples are on the agenda for next week," Cicero sighed and smacked it out of Krow's hand. Red flapped her wings angrily.

     "What a waste. I was gonna eat that," Krow mumbled as he watched it roll away.

     This was going to be a long few months.

Chapter Text

     About three months had passed since Jade went into hiding in Whiterun. As thane, she owned a small staple home in the heart of town and it seemed like a safe place to hunker down. Being well-known by the locals and having the Companions so close by was in her favor. It was just a matter of staying quiet and not drawing any new attention to herself. With her Dragonborn abilities seemingly stunted for unknown reasons and the potential of the Dark Brotherhood hunting her down, she didn't want to take a chance of getting caught in a dangerous situation she couldn't fight her way out of. Her pride just couldn't take it.

     Standing in her bedroom, Jade was engaged in an unrelenting battle with her leather armor. She grimaced and held her breath as she desperately tried to clasp the cuirass across her abdomen. The denial of her recent weight gain was laced with every swear word uttered. It wasn't much, but it was just enough that her once form-fitting leathers refused to fit her form. Jade threw herself back onto the bed and kicked her legs, grunting and hissing in frustration.

     "You sound like you're being attacked," a woman's voice mumbled from the doorway.

     Embarrassed, Jade quickly sat up to catch her housecarl's judgmental gaze, "Lydia... how long have you been here?"

     "A few minutes. I could hear you all the way downstairs."

     Jade curled her lip feeling defeated, "I need to have my armor modified..."

     "Oh?" Lydia leaned on the door frame, "That's going to be expensive."

     "Eh?"

     "Be serious, my thane. You know what this is. You can pay to have your family armor modified, but in another month you will need to do it again... and then again.. and then-"

     "Enough," Jade stood up. She didn't want to hear it. The idea that her body was doing things she had no control over pissed her off. She felt fat and unattractive for the first time in her life. Standing before the full-length mirror in the corner, she turned to the side to examine the 'problem' that was preventing her from fastening her armor.

     "Just accept it," Lydia shrugged, "Don't torture yourself... or that baby. Find something comfortable and casual and just roll with it."

     Jade ran her hand over her stomach. As much as she hated admitting defeat, she was tired of lying to herself. Suck it up.

      "I need a gown," Jade muttered while staring back at herself in the mirror, "Something loose..."

     "All you had to do was ask," Lydia turned and headed to her room across the hall.

     How long had it been since Riften? Since she was stupid enough to sleep with that fool? She should have known he was too dumb to know when to pull out. He'd probably never even been with a woman before. She's lucky he even knew where to stick it. Beyond the sex, what did he want with her anyway? What made him think that she was something worth fighting for?

     "It's my sister's," Lydia's voice broke her train of thought, "She was lost to the war... I think it should work." She held up a long casual turquoise gown.

     "Your sister had good taste," Jade reached out and took it. She held it up to her body and turned to look in the mirror.

     "Should be enough to cover your bump for now," Lydia leaned to see her reflection.

     "I won't be fighting any dragons in this..."

     "Don't worry about that. With the World Eater defeated, the remaining dragons are few and far between. Besides, there's some new guy who's been taking care of that, I hear."

     "Some new guy?"

     "Yeah, some guy who believes himself to be another Dragonborn," Lydia laughed, "I've been hearing about how he's been helping the guards fight dragons and selling the bones here in Whiterun. Poor Belethor can't afford to keep bartering with him with how much loot he hauls in."

     Jade curled her lip, "Nord?"

     "Yeah. He's a Stormcloak who used to be a guard in Riften," Lydia explained, "Apparently he's got himself a Daedric artifact which I guess makes him a big deal."

     "Urf."

     "Oof, indeed."

     "No, that's his name. Urf Cock-something," Jade began changing out of her armor.

     "Oh... that's a horrible name."

     "He's a horrible person. You say he comes to Whiterun to sell his loot?"

     "All the time. I think he occasionally stays with his cousin. He's that nice guard at the front entrance. The one who's always willing to give you directions," Lydia smiled.

     "I need to talk to him," Jade turned away from her as she stripped down.

     "My thane... I suggest just letting it be. He's not hurting anyone and if he can keep the focus off of you by killing the dragons himself... then what's the issue?"

     "The sword."

     "The Daedric artifact?"

     "Yes. I've seen what it does," Jade pulled the gown over her head and brushed the wrinkles out of it, "I need to get it away from him."

     "Ooo. What does it do?" Lydia's eyes lit up.

     "It makes people go mad. The longer and more often you use it... the more it affects you."

     "He seemed nice-" Lydia stopped herself mid-sentence.

     "Seemed? ...You've met him?"

     The housecarl looked away and blushed a bit, "Ah, yeah. He was at the general store."

     "When?"

     "I just came from there-"

     Jade quickly bolted to the door, "Move it, Lydia!" she huffed and pushed her out of the way.

~

     The marketplace was alive with the sounds of merchants and customers conversing. Jade slipped through the crowd to avoid being recognized and quickly entered the general goods store. She paused momentarily to let her eyes adjust to the dim light.

     "Welcome!" the owner Belethor called to her, "Come in. Come in. I'll be right with you."

     There was another customer at the counter. A large man with long blond hair and, from what she could tell from behind, was fully dressed in custom dragon-scale armor. Sure enough, the same Ebony Blade Cicero had used to slaughter her friends in Riften was strapped to his back.

     Jade could feel her blood pressure rising. This had to be Urf. What luck that he had basically come right to her. There was no way she'd have had the stamina to track him across Skyrim.

     "I will be back soon, I'm sure!" the man said and took a handful of coins from the merchant. He turned to leave but stopped as his bright blue eyes landed on Jade.

     She stared back at him. He- he was... gorgeous. Quite possibly the most handsome Nord she'd ever laid eyes on. His features were somehow soft and delicate yet his jaw seemed to be etched from stone. His long blond locks were wavy and almost seemed to shimmer in the subtle light. It was like looking into the face of a god. How was this the same man...? Damn, those obstructive guard helmets!

     "Ma'am," he nodded to her. His voice was that of Urf, but his face... oh, his face.

     "I-" Jade tried to speak but felt like she was choking on her words.

     "Are you alright, miss?" he asked as he secured his coin pouch to his belt.

     "You-"

     "Are you in need of assistance?"

     Jade suddenly felt like she was going to faint, "I need to sit down..."

     Urf swiftly reached out to catch her as she wobbled, "Are you ill?" he led her over to a chair and sat her down. His 'public service' training was on full display.

     "I'll get her some water," Belethor said as he quickly exited through the back way.

     "I'm alright..." Jade mumbled. It wasn't his dashing good looks that had knocked her off balance; she was feeling a bout of morning sickness coming on.

     "Wait a minute," Urf knelt before her and looked up into her face, "I know you..."

     "Ahh..."

     "I'd never forget your face," he gasped, "You're that Dragonborn!"

     "Not here," she whispered as the nausea picked up, "I'm trying to keep things on the down low if you don't mind."

     Urf's expression turned dark, "Your Imperial friend. Is he with you?"

     "Gone," Jade took a deep breath, her face feeling warm, "I left him in Riften."

     "Yeah, he escaped."

     "Escaped?"

     "I figured you knew. He was arrested for a triple homicide. Quadruple if you count the 'rat'. One moment he was in his cell and the next-"

     Jade suddenly threw up, her vomit splattering across Urf's armor. She couldn't hold it. The silence that passed between them was quite awkward.

     "I'm so sorry..." Jade whispered with her hand over her mouth avoiding eye contact.

     Urf stood up and attempted to wipe the barf off his chest with his clawed glove. He looked more annoyed than disgusted. "Normally, I'd deck you in the face for that, but I can see that you're not well."

     "It's not that. I-" Jade paused as Belethor returned with a mug of water. She took it graciously and drank to clear the taste of puke from her mouth.

     Belethor handed Urf a rag, "Perhaps you should make sure she gets home ok?" 

     "No. That's alright," Jade protested, "I'm not sick..."

     "You live nearby?" Urf inquired, "With the way you're dressed I'd assume the Cloud District?"

     "Ha! No... the Plains," she motioned to the door with her thumb, "I'm no fancy woman."

     "Could have fooled me," he smiled. Oh damn, his smile. Jade felt like she was going to melt into a puddle. It wasn't fair! Why did such a dumb pompous ass like Urf have to be such eye candy!? And also, damn his chivalrous nature toward a damsel in distress. Though, perhaps she could use that in her favor.

     Jade stood up and brushed the wrinkles from her gown. She had completely forgotten the speech she had planned to tear this man apart, but she did remember that she needed to get that blade from him.

     "On second thought," she pressed her cheek against her shrugged shoulder and looked away shyly, "I wouldn't mind an escort home." she lifted her bright green eyes back to meet his and not so subtly pouted her lips.

     Urf stared at her blankly, "Well, if you just live in the Plains District, it's only right around the corner. I don't know why you'd need me."

     Oh, yeah. This guy was as dense as a brick.

     "But what if I faint? I could use some strong man arms to catch me."

     "Ah, I suppose that's true," Urf turned to Belethor, "I'll be helping this lady back to her place."

     "You do that," Belethor winked at him.

     "Why did you just wink at me? Is something the matter?" Urf furrowed his brow in confusion.

     "Oh, no reason," Belethor bit his lips together and gave a more apparent nod of approval.

     "You are acting strange, Breton. You may be ill as well."

     Belethor sighed and headed back to the counter. Urf turned back to Jade, "Shall we?"

     She hooked her arm around his and smiled. The smell of vomit on her breath lingered.

>>>New characters added to the Character Guide Book: Lydia and Urf Grey-Cock

Chapter Text

     "Lydia!" Jade yelled as she burst in the front door of her small abode, "Make yourself scarce. I've got company!"

     Lydia was sitting in a wooden chair by the fire pit at the center of the room. She lowered her book and glanced up.

     "Oh," Urf paused in the doorway, "I'm not staying, I was just-"

     Jade suddenly fell back against him in an overdramatic fashion, "Oh, my! A fainting spell! Please, Mr. Cock... if you would be so kind as to carry me in your strong manly arms upstairs to my safe warm bed..."

     Urf's natural look of confusion became more apparent as he processed the situation. He hesitated a moment before stooping slightly to pick her up. Jade threw her arm across her forehead and sighed to play up the damsel in distress facade. 

     Lydia didn't move an inch as she stared at the handsome young Nord carrying her thane like something right out of a romance novel. It was no surprise that Jade was able to convince such a dashing specimen of a man to follow her home. As jealous as she was, Lydia was still impressed by the catch.

     "First door on the right," Jade instructed as Urf reached the top of the steps.

     "There are no other doors on the right..." he said confused.

     "Well... exactly."

     Entering the bedroom, Urf laid her down on the bed where she quickly flipped onto her side in a seductive position, propping her head up with her hand. Urf seemed to be busy looking at the various artifact weapons she had on the wall beside the bed. Jade shifted a little trying to get his attention again, adjusting her gown insecurely.

     "You sure have a lot of Daedric weapons," Urf murmured as he paced around the room inspecting the hoard.

     "You like Daerdic artifacts, Urf?"

     "Oh, yes," he glanced back at her, "I've got one, myself."

     "I see that," Jade winked at him.

     "You might recognize it," Urf unsheathed the blade and held it up with one hand, "Your little Imperial friend was using it."

     "Let's not talk about him," She ran her hand down her hip, "Let's talk about you."

     "I'm Urf of the Grey-Cock family."

     "Yes, you are..."

     A strange beat of silence passed between them. Jade stared at him waiting for him to say more, but nothing came.

     "Okay, then," she popped her lips, "Soo... how many dragons have you slain with that sexy weapon of yours?"

    Urf's face seemed to light up, "At least six! Two within the last week!"

     "Really?" Jade raised her brow. She couldn't remember the last time she had taken down a dragon. Was it the night they brought Ruby back to the Sanctuary? How long ago was that!?

     Urf rotated the blade around in his hand and examined it, "It's very light for a two-handed sword... and it's not even enchanted. You'd think a weapon with Daedric writing on it would have some sort of special power."

     "What do you mean, 'it's not enchanted'," she asked skeptically. Jade had seen what that blade could do to a man's mind. She knew the legend of Mephala's Ebony Blade quite well. It was a bedtime story for Nordic children. Great men who had used it were driven mad by its enchantment. It caused such a lust for blood that the effects could linger indefinitely.

     "It's just an ordinary weapon," Urf sighed, "It still looks pretty cool when I swing it though!"

     "Have you killed anyone with it?"

     "A few bandits. I prefer dragons."

     "You didn't feel anything at all when you killed those people?" Jade squinted.

     "I don't feel for anyone who breaks the law," Urf said in a confident tone, "Laws are there for a reason."

     "No- I mean-" she paused. It suddenly occurred to her that perhaps the enchantment had a sort of trigger, or maybe only became active under specific conditions. It was Mephala's blade after all, so she could easily choose when and who the power would affect. Well, that or Urf was too much of a meathead to be driven mad. Not enough brain to work with.

     Jade bit her lip and leaned back onto the bed again, "You still think you're the next Dragonborn, Mr. Grey-Cock?"

     "I could be," he said resheathing the weapon, "I've been training a lot just in case."

     "What kind of training?" she patted the bed with her fingertips trying to coax him to sit down.

     "I've been studying the thu'um and visiting word walls. I've already learned one word-"

     "Wait- what!?" Jade sat up again, "Why?"

     "I just said. I've been training. The great Ulfric Stormcloak has proven how powerful the Voice can be. If I'm the next Dragonborn, I need to-"

     "What about me?" Jade huffed.

     "...I don't understand what you are asking."

     "I'm the ACTUAL Dragonborn. Don't I prove the power of the Voice?"

     "That's yet to be seen."

     "WHAT!?" Jade gasped. Not only was this man a simpleton, but he was annoyingly ignorant as well.

     "I've never seen you use the thu'um. You promised to summon an undead dragon," Urf crossed his arms giving off an air of cockiness, "I'm still waiting."

     Jade glared. How dare he question her? If it wasn't for the fact that she'd mysteriously not even been able to access her abilities over the last few months, she'd show him a thing or two. 

     "You saw me absorb that dragon's soul in Riften!" she countered.

     "That could have been faked."

     "Faked!?"

     "Yeah. Maybe some illusion spell. Who knows?"

     Jade's face turned red. No one had ever questioned her abilities before... and lived. This guy was a bigger fool than Cicero. "Alright then," she huffed, "If you're really the next Dragonborn, YOU prove it," she smiled wickedly.

     "Here?" he looked around, "There are no dragons."

     "No, I mean... you think you're so powerful because you can take down a dragon, but can you take down the woman who defeated the World Eater?"

     Urf blinked his bright blue eyes in thought, "I'm not sure. I haven't met her."

     Jade clenched her teeth. From his tone of voice, he was being sincere. "Me. I'm talking about me. I'm the woman who slew Alduin."

     "Oh, because you're the Dragonborn, right?"

     Jade could feel her heart pounding in the veins in her head. It was all she could do to keep from screaming. At least when she'd argue with Cicero, she knew he was just messing with her. This man was actually serious. She took a deep breath and slowly exhaled through her nose, "Yes. I'm the legendary Dragonborn. Nice to meet you."

     "We met a few months ago outside of Riften, don't you remember?" he cocked his head to the side, "Is your illness affecting your memory too?"

     "Oh, my gods!" she groaned, "Just shut up and get naked already. I haven't got all day."

     Urf's eyes widened. Jade glared at him as if trying to mentally strangle him. There was a long moment of silence as the oaf slowly pieced the situation together.

     "Oh, why didn't you just ask?" he said and began removing his armor as if it was part of his civic duty. Jade opened her mouth to reply but was too surprised at his instant submission to think of what to say. Sure, she'd had plenty of men fall to her feet at the mere fluttering of her eyelashes, but this just seemed too easy given the denseness of this man.

     Urf leaned the Ebony Blade against the nightstand as he continued to undress with much haste. Jade stared at the weapon. It was only a few feet away. She could just reach out and grab it and it would be hers. The longer she stared at it, the more it seemed to subtly glow an ominous red. She licked the corner of her mouth and lifted her hand as she leaned closer- but the half-naked body of the handsome blond Nord distracted her. Her eyes poured over his muscular and toned body as he turned to her and climbed onto the bed like an obedient dog. Oh, it had been so long since Jade had been properly bedded by a man... in fact, the last time was-... well, the reason she'd not been properly bedded by a man since.

~

     Lydia licked her fingertip and flipped the page of her book, lamenting that her thane didn't have a very good selection of reading material. Jade just wasn't much of a reader. So volume three of the Lusty Argonian Maid would have to suffice to kill time. Being the housecarl of a hormonal pregnant narcissist who was in perpetual denial of her own limitations was exhausting. Lydia's job was to serve the Thane of Whiterun, not put up with daily emotional outbursts, and be damage control. 

     What did this woman do before she had Lydia to be her voice of reason? Was she just running around Tamriel with her tits to the wind? Jade didn't like talking about her past, so anything before her residence in Whiterun was vague. She used to come and go for months at a time and apparently joined the Dark Brotherhood for a while. Then she showed up again a few months ago acting like she owned the place (she technically does) and started barking orders at her.

     Lydia was used to carrying the burdens of her superiors, it was in her job description, but this was a LOT of emotional baggage to sort through. And if Jade thought she was going to make her into some sort of nanny when that bastard child was born, she's got another thing coming! Lydia would quit. For real this time. No more talking about it. The moment that baby is born and she is ordered to change ONE nappy-

     A loud thump from above startled Lydia. She jumped and accidentally ripped the corner of the page she was on. Dust began to float down from the ceiling followed by a lot of shifting and grunting. She sighed and slouched down in her chair. The thumping got louder and the grunting turned into groaning.

     "For the love of Talos," she mumbled and tried to find where she left off on the page. The sounds became so jarring that Lydia couldn't focus. She ended up reading the same sentence over again three times before closing the book and giving up.

     Just as she was about to stand to leave the house, the walls shook with a powerful male voice belting out a word from the language of the Dovah.

     "FUUUSSS!!"

     Lydia staggered from the jolting effect and dropped the novel on the floor. Several artifacts and weapons fell from the shelves. She looked up at the ceiling as everything fell quiet again. After a short hesitation, she began picking up the fallen items and returning them to their places.

     After a few minutes, Urf came down the stairs adjusting the collar of his armor. Lydia placed the last item on its display and glanced over.

     "Where are you going!?" Jade called as she staggered out of her room and attempted to chase him down the steps.

     "Dragons aren't going to fight themselves," he chuckled without looking back at her.

     "Wait!" Jade stumbled off of the bottom stair and grabbed onto his arm. Her hair was a mess and her gown twisted around her body haphazardly, "Please stay!"

     "I'm sorry, citizen. My job here is done," he reached for the handle of the front door.

     "Please stay! That was... the best sex I've had in years!"

     "I wish I could say the same," Urf finally glanced down at her, "You talk big talk for a woman with such a gut."

     Jade dramatically slid to her knees still clinging to his arm. She stared up at him as if she were groveling.

     "She's not fat," Lydia chimed in, crossing her arms, "She's just expectant."

     Urf pulled his arm away suddenly, a look of surprise on his face, "You are!? I-... is it mine!?"

     Lydia's arms came unfolded and dropped to her sides limply. Her face held a bland judgmental stare, but her posture suggested something else entirely.

     Jade pulled herself to her feet and adjusted her gown trying to cover herself, "...maybe?" she lied, wondering if she could use his ignorance against him.

     Urf glanced over at Lydia, then back at Jade trying to make sense of the situation. The gears in his brain were turning, but nothing lined up. He suddenly shook his head, "No thanks."

     Jade reached for him once more but he was quicker in his hasty retreat from the house. Lydia held her forehead in disbelief as to what she was witnessing.

     "I lied!" Jade called to him from the doorway, "It's not yours! Just ignore that! When can I see you again!?"

     Urf quickly tried to disappear into the pedestrians on the street. Several onlookers began to mummer about the scene. Jade frowned and crossed her arms. As she turned to go back in and lash Lydia for spilling the beans, something rather startling caught her eye.

     What looked to be a very tall dark-skinned man with long crimson hair stood in the shade near the guard house by the front gate. A chill went up her spine as they stared at one another. He wasn't dressed like any faction or warrior she'd ever seen. He almost seemed Daedric in nature as his deep red eyes sparkled ominously. 

     After a moment, the hulking man seemed to fade into the shadows along the side of the building. She blinked a few times wondering if she had merely imagined it. Maybe she was becoming ill after all. 

     Jade slowly turned to head back inside but suddenly cringed as she realized she'd forgotten to grab the Ebony Blade. 

Chapter Text

12th of Morning Star, 4E 202


     The new year is off to a great start! Since the Night Mother's return to the flesh several months ago, the Dark Brotherhood has taken a fresh breath of life itself. The souls of the five children of Sithis have been placed into mortal bodies to lead the future Uprising. Each will become a Speaker for one of the old Sanctuaries around Tamriel. Mother has tasked me to instruct them in both combat training and the knowledge of the elders. No longer a mere Keeper, I've been honored with the new role of Knower. Being the last of the original Dark Brotherhood following, it is my obligation to make sure that this knowledge is carried forth. Never again can we allow another occurrence like what happened in Falkreath. Faith in the words of the Night Mother and the rule of the Dread Father must be instilled into future generations of the Brotherhood.

     The former Listener and Dragonborn has abruptly resigned from the Family and I only have myself to blame. Due to the personal nature of that situation, it does not need to be documented here. However, her absence is noticed. At least, by me. Mother has instructed me to move on and focus on the future of the Uprising. The Listener's role is no longer required so my commitments to her are severed.  I am sworn to obey.

     For reasons unknown, the Wrath is still present in the Sanctuary. I was led to believe he was merely a flesh vessel to bring the direct word of Sithis and to perform the ritual to resurrect the souls of the Ancient Blood. While interactions are few and far between, I'm quite surprised to find that the Daedra himself has his own separate personality; one resembling that of an angry adolescent. Ironically, he lives up to his moniker in way of threatening attitude. With his stature being well over seven feet and his mass close to that of two grown men, it's best to just let him throw his weight around and simply stay out of the way. When inquiring to Mother about his purpose, she seems to deflect. I suppose it's none of my business anyway. The Uprising could use all the help it can get.

     The Children of the Ancient Blood have been divided into two groups for more targeted training. Wrath announced that he would be taking Meegs the multi-skilled Argonian, Quen the destruction mage High Elf, and Tripp-... I'm still not sure what that Khajiit is skilled in besides smoking ungodly amounts of skooma while downing tankard after tankard of mead all without moving an inch for hours at a time. He wears mage robes, but I feel it's merely for comfort to compliment his lazy lifestyle.

     Wrath has given me the "honor" of training the melee students. Krow the Redguard and Rage the Orsimer. Krow is small and very agile, but after my foiled attempt to retrieve his body for soul transfer which resulted in his death... his cognitive skills appear limited and sporadic. He has been quite a handful. Keeping his attention is almost impossible and he seems to be confused by the memories of his own murder. He has tried to assail me many times. I've unfortunately sustained a few injuries from the blade-like talons he wears on his fingers. Though they are very useful for him in hand-to-hand combat and even aid in his uncanny ability to scale porous surfaces, I am unfamiliar with the skill involved when utilizing such a weapon. Hence, I am unable to train him with it any further than his vessel's previous knowledge.

     As for the Orc, she's also taken to making my job more difficult than necessary. She may be physically the strongest of the five, but her head is also in the clouds. Focus is not her strong suit and having Krow also constantly doing his own thing, I've found it challenging to get anything done. Rage's disturbing flirtatious nature has also made things... awkward.

     I understand that these vessels carry the souls of the Night Mother and Dread Father's children who were sacrificed as infants. But therein lies the problem. I've been basically trying to give advanced stealth and combat training to a couple of kids with the bodies of mentally disturbed adults. The potential is there, I know it is. I just can't seem to tap into it. Their former identities remain intact within their brains, which was the point of their acquisition. We want those pre-existing skills, but there seem to be a lot of factors disrupting the souls' ability to properly utilize them-... Well, Krow gets a pass on that one. My blade penetrating the back of his skull would be the disrupting factor in his case... I suppose I deserve this. I've sabotaged myself.

14th of Morning Star, 4E 202

     I've decided today that I'm going to take my students out for their first real assassinations. Mother has permitted me to choose the targets myself based on local and personal knowledge of their societal standing. In other words, these marks may not have been officially contracted, but objectively, they have it coming. I've made sure to set the date for the assassinations for the 15th of Morning Star. Tomorrow. It is the day of the South Wind's Prayer and the masses should be too distracted by the event to notice even if there's a slight error.

     The first target is for Krow. This one is quite personal to me and I feel he would learn a lot from it. He is to take out a farmer who resides just outside of Whiterun. We will arrive early in the morning just before sunrise. To test his stealth, Krow will be instructed to not alert the wife and vacate the residence after the kill without being detected. It would be a simple job for me, but with Krow's inability to stay focused, it might prove to be a useful learning experience for him. No matter what happens, I'll be there as a backup to clean up any mishaps... and I assume there will be plenty.

     And of course, the other target goes to Rage. Her mark will be in the city limits of Whiterun; a wealthy and well-despised Redguard who also owns a farm near the city. There's been gossip that his wife has been considering ordering a hit, so this one's on the house, so to speak. He spends very little time at his farm and is almost always spotted near the marketplace toting political and condescending banter, often riling up locals with his toxic rhetoric. His sudden absence will be quickly noticed, but also easily forgiven by the residents. With the South Wind's Prayer event calling the masses to the temple of Kynareth at the center of town, the target should be pretty easy to take out amongst the chaos. I feel Rage has a bit more potential to pull this off cleanly than her brother does with his task. But, as stated, if things go south, I will pull them out and clean up the mess myself.

     On a personal note: I've grown quite confident with my physical capabilities in the last few months. Not only have I been training the Ancient Blood, but I've been retraining myself. I've regained much of my muscle mass from before I went into hiding in Cheydinhal many years ago. In other words, I'm back to being as physically fit as I was in my early twenties. I'm pleased to no longer be slipping into the life of a frail old malnourished man. ̷I̷ ̷d̷o̷n̷'̷t̷ ̷t̷h̷i̷n̷k̷ ̷J̷a̷d̷e̷ ̷w̷o̷u̷l̷d̷ ̷e̷v̷e̷n̷ ̷r̷e̷c̷o̷g̷n̷i̷z̷e̷ ̷m̷e̷.̷ ̷S̷h̷e̷ ̷a̷l̷w̷a̷y̷s̷ ̷h̷a̷d̷ ̷a̷ ̷t̷h̷i̷n̷g̷ ̷f̷o̷r̷ ̷m̷e̷n̷ ̷w̷i̷t̷h̷ ̷m̷u̷s̷c̷l̷e̷.̷.̷.̷ ̷m̷a̷y̷b̷e̷ ̷s̷h̷e̷'̷d̷ ̷ ̷a̷c̷

     As for my mental state, I've been able to think clearer as the weeks go on. Not having that Daedric weapon influencing my judgment has definitely helped. However, my dreams have been haunting my subconscious lately. Occasionally I recall something emotional that I can't quite put my finger on. A lingering anxiety as if I'm supposed to be doing something or be somewhere... but I just can't remember. I think the stress of my current assignments is messing with my sleep. I wake up sore and restless... not that it matters. I've got more important matters to worry about than stress-induced nightmares.

Chapter Text

     "It's you," someone whispered from nearby. Cicero nearly jumped out of his skin. He dropped the kindling and stood to face the room. With a lifetime of stealth training, it wasn't easy to sneak up on him, but in a sanctuary full of assassins and youth who liked to mess around, he wasn't surprised to be taken off guard while momentarily distracted.

     "Who's there?" Cicero replied warily as he scanned the dimly lit room, "Krow? Quit fooling around-"

     "Says the fool," a tiny child-like voice giggled from the shadows.

     "...Babette?" Cicero began feeling uneasy. Dressed in only his long johns with no weapon available, he hesitated to move.

     Then he saw her. The small silhouette stood at the entry of the torture room shrouded in darkness. Cicero relaxed a little.

     "Un-child, I don't care how small you are. If you sneak up on me like that again, I'll use you as kindling."

     The girl didn't reply.

     Cicero sighed, "What do you want?" He stooped to retrieve the wood he had dropped and tossed it in the fire before glancing back in her direction, "No reply? Did someone finally cut out your sharp tongue?"

     "Where's your momma...?" she said in an unfamiliar voice.

     Cicero frowned and stepped down from the landing, his eyes locked on the small silhouette. Something was not right. The girl suddenly turned and ran into the torture room without a sound. The freshly fed flames from the fireplace rapidly faded and once again dipped the room into darkness. The air instantly fell cold. Cicero's heart began to race as he cautiously moved across the room. As he passed the dining table, he casually scooped up a dinner knife that someone had left out, his eyes never leaving the torture room doorway.

     His head was swimming and his body began to feel increasingly heavy with every step. The entire world seemed to fade around him as tunnel vision took hold. No matter who that creepy child was, Cicero was more than ready to hack her up simply for trespassing. He rounded the corner and peered into the room she had stepped into. The brazier near the far wall was lit and casting a soft warm glow on what appeared to be a man's body lying before it.

     A strange sense of deja vu flowed through him. He glanced around the small room not seeing any sign of the child. This didn't feel right. Since the Uprising began, there haven't been any captives held within the torture chamber. Cicero gripped the small dinner knife tightly as he moved closer to the man. He was lying on his side with his back to the door.  The scent of burning fabric and hair began to rise. After taking a few more steps, Cicero stopped suddenly when he recognized the outfit the man was wearing. It was his old jester motley, worn and tattered. The hat upon his head was smoking as if it had just been removed from a flame.

     Impossible. That hat was destroyed. He had thrown it into the fireplace himself many months before. There was no way it could still be here. None of this made sense. Someone had to be messing with him. This was too elaborate of a prank for brain-damaged Krow to organize and Rage just wasn't that clever. Sage clearly had issues, but he knew better than to try and pull something like this.

     The ground around the body grew dark with thick crimson blood. It slowly pooled as if from a fresh wound. The familiar scene shot through Cicero's mind like a lightning bolt. This was just like when Jade had cornered him after he was wounded by Arnbjorn. This was the very spot where she had spared his unworthy life. At that moment, he felt as if he was witnessing an alternate timeline where things had gone very, very differently.

     "...-try again," an unfamiliar male voice faded in from nearby. Cicero spun around holding the knife defensively. A soft green aura quickly scattered and the darkness in the room suddenly lifted. He staggered slightly to regain his balance as his consciousness cleared and his senses became more focused.

     "Ruby...?" he gasped upon seeing her standing in the doorway. Her eyes were wide as she stared back at her disoriented friend.

     "Cicero okay?" she asked gently, holding her arms close to her chest.

     Cicero lowered the knife and exhaled deeply. The air began to feel warmer again. He glanced back toward the body to see that the entire scene was gone and everything appeared to be back to normal. Ruby shuffled over and wrapped herself around his arm, curiously staring into the same spot as he was.

     "Yeah..." Cicero mumbled under his breath, "Just my head playing tricks..."

     It had been so long since he'd had any kind of hallucination or psychotic break. As far as he was concerned, he was completely sane. Could it have been a dream? Was he sleepwalking?

     "Safe?" Ruby asked glancing at the knife in his hand and then up at him.

     "Yeah... everything's gonna be okay. I'm awake."

Chapter Text

    Just before sunrise, Cicero and his students arrived at the farm just north of Whiterun. Standing on the side of the dirt road, he surveyed the area for any patrolling guards before leading Rage and Krow to the cover of the shadows of a large windmill. He knelt in the grass and motioned for them to do the same.

     "Alright, this should be pretty straightforward," Cicero explained and glanced toward the farmhouse, "The first thing you need in order to be a successful assassin is to have as much information as possible about the location and the target before making your move."

     "I thought the first thing was to kill without being seen?" Krow asked as he studied the steel talons on his fingertips.

     Cicero sighed as he continued to monitor the house, "While a great assassin can kill his mark in plain sight without detection, there's much more to the process beforehand. We'll get to that later," he turned to Krow, "There's an art to information gathering and what you do with it. It could mean the difference between being successful and being caught. But for today, you're simply setting your benchmark. I just want to see where your basic skills begin. So I've already done the 'footwork' on this target."

     "The guy lives in the middle of nowhere," Krow groaned, "Can't I just kick the door in and slit his throat?"

Cicero shook his head, "As fun as that would be, this is supposed to be a controlled learning experience. I'm making this easy for yo-"

     "It would be easier to just burn the place down and go get some beer," Krow smiled and winked at Rage.

     She nodded, "I'm with him on that one. My feet hurt from walking."

     "...Seriously?" Cicero frowned, "We're going to need to work on your stamina-"

     "When can I get a horse?" she crossed her legs and began picking at the grass like a bored child, "I want a black one like Mother has. I could pick me up some sexy mens with that beastie."

     "This mission is time-sensitive," Cicero continued, not wanting to encourage more nonsense with a response, "Here's what you need to know. The target is a middle-aged male Imperial of average build. He's a farmer with little to no combat training but he carries an iron dagger for self-defense. He is more likely to rely on local law for protection because he would rather run his mouth and complain than actually be of any assistan-" Cicero caught himself mid-tangent, "He lives with his wife, a high elf of average build for her age and race, who is not a threat. In fact, your assigned challenge is to enter the abode stealthfully and take the farmer out without alerting her."

     "Easy," Krow cracked his knuckles and stood up, "Let's get this over with. I'm thirsty for somethin' bubbly..."

     "Same," Rage sighed, leaning back on her arms lethargically, "The sooner the better."

     "Are you not listening?" Cicero squinted up at him, "I'm giving you this information as a courtesy. Sit your punk ass down and make a plan! The sun is rising and they will be awake soon."

     Krow moaned loudly and kicked his feet out from under himself, plopping on the ground dramatically beside his sister, "Thinking is soooo booooringgggg..."

     "Thinking is what has kept me alive to be here to teach you this," Cicero said flatly, "When my previous sanctuaries fell... when my fellow Dark Siblings perished one by one... I made plans for survival. Always thinking several steps ahead. Always with a plan B-"

     "Omigods, fine," Krow huffed, "I'll go pick the lock or something and kill him in bed with a stab to the spine... then loot the place."

     "And what if one of them wakes before the job is done?"

     "I'll kill them faster?" Krow fidgeted expressing his restlessness, "What does it matter if they both just die? More souls for daddy-o, right?"

     Cicero was beginning to understand why he'd been finding gray hairs lately, "This is a learn-

     "A learning experience, blah blah blah..." Krow rolled his eyes.

     Cicero abruptly slapped the kid across the face and pointed his finger at him, "You have a duty to the Dark Brotherhood and the Dread Father. You will respect it!"

     Krow rubbed his cheek, "Gods! You're not my real dad!"

     "That's correct! Your real father had you killed. I'm just trying to teach you how NOT to be killed."

     Rage popped her lips, "You said that the farmer was not skilled in combat, though."

     Cicero held his temple with his fingers and closed his eyes. Months of this. He'd been dealing with this for months. Why would Mother put him through such torture? Did she have any idea how unruly her own children were? Was this some sort of reverse test?

     He exhaled deeply, "There's a guard that patrols this road. He has a regular route that he takes every forty-five minutes and would respond if he noticed anything-"

     "Kill him too," Krow nodded feeling sure of himself.

     "...You know what?" Cicero nodded back, "Just have fun. Go get 'em, sport."

     "Nice," the tiny Redguard stood and brushed the dirt from his bum before sprinting off toward the house.

     "He's gonna die," Rage said casually.

     "Gods, I hope so..."

~

     Almost twenty minutes had passed since Krow ran off to complete his first contract. The sun was over the horizon and the sky was painted in purples and reds. Cicero watched from the heavy shadow of the windmill as the patrolling guard walked down the dirt road for the second time since they'd arrived.

     "What is taking so long? Did he get distracted?" Cicero grumbled.

     "He dead," Rage yawned and laid back in the grass lazily.

     "This is fine," he glanced over at her, "This makes for a good lesson."

     "Ugh. Why does everything have to be a lesson?" she moaned, "You are so boring. No wonder that bimbo left you..."

     "Bimb-... are you referring to the Listener?"

     "I don't know. The initiates were talking about how you were hung up on some slutty mac-tits," she suddenly sat up with a smirk, "You want me to kick her ass? I'd totally kick her ass for you."

     Cicero lowered his brow. He was beginning to miss being alone. Having so many new members in the sanctuary was bringing up a lot of unnecessary gossip and drama. Why couldn't these people just be professional? This is why the Dark Brotherhood always failed. The objective to feed the Void and serve the Dread Lord was lost among all of the personal affairs and childish drama.

     "The lesson is to always have a plan B," he stood and began fishing in the pouch on his belt.

     Rage smiled as she stared up at his ass.

     Cicero mumbled to himself as he pulled out a magic scroll, "I'm not going to sit around all day and wait for that idiot to inevitably fail."

     "What are you going to do with that?" Rage suddenly became interested and climbed to her feet.

     "Watch and learn," he replied and started walking toward the house. He pulled an arrow from the quiver on his back and tied the scroll to the tip with a small piece of twine. Rage raised her brow and looked around as if worried that someone might notice. Cicero nocked the arrow in his bow, aimed at the thatch roof, and shot. 

     Nothing happened.

     Rage scoffed, "Aren't you supposed to light it first?"

     Cicero curled his lip and loaded another arrow, closing one eye to aim more precisely. He fired. The arrow hit the scroll and burst into a plume of flames instantly engulfing the roof.

     "You don't light a fire rune scroll," he said with an authoritative tone as he sheathed his bow.

     Rage's face lit up with excitement as the sound of shouting rose from beneath the crackling of the fire. Cicero turned and suddenly began jogging down the road away from the house. Rage's sense of excitement rapidly turned to confusion as the screaming stopped and her brother had yet to reemerge. A moment later, Krow burst out the front door with a spattering of blood on his face. He made brief panicked eye contact with his sister before they both sprinted to catch up with their teacher.

     "What in Anu's asshole happened!?" Krow yelped in frustration.

     Cicero tried his best to remain composed but he was just so overjoyed with how it all played out that he burst into laughter. He glanced over his shoulder past his freaked-out students and raised his middle finger to the burning farmhouse. "See you in the Void, Loreius!" he cheered.

----------

Lore note: This chapter is in reference to an optional quest that takes place before the Dark Brotherhood questline begins. In short, this farmer had it comin'.

Click the Wiki: "Delayed Burial" for more info on Cicero's beef with Loreius.

Chapter Text

     Caravans of travelers from all around Skyrim were already flooding into the city of Whiterun. The temple of Kynareth was offering free healing to those judged worthy and people of all races, creeds, and ailments wanted a chance to be convalesced. More guards were patrolling the streets than usual along with some off-duty Stormcloak soldiers. This was expected, though. More people meant more security risks.

     Cicero chewed his lip and attempted to count and memorize the locations of each guard near the main gate. It shouldn't be difficult to blend in with the crowd, so long as nothing drew attention to them.

     "Can we get some beer after this?" Krow asked dusting some ash from his shoulder.

     "What is it with you and drinking?" Cicero asked while watching the migrating crowd, "What are you, like 12?"

     Krow glanced down at his body, running his hands down his chest, "I... I honestly don't know... but we're immortal so it doesn't matter, right?"

     "No, we're not," Rage interjected, "Your vessel already died once, remember?"

     "No... wait-" Krow squinted and stared off into space in thought, "Is that what happened?"

     "Juicy ass killed you."

     "Juicy who?"

     Rage motioned to Cicero's backside, "Mr. Know-It-All. He slaughtered your vessel. Stabbed ya right through the brain."

     "It's Mr. Knower, and it was the back of the neck," Cicero corrected passively, "Now pay attention. We need to move fast. Follow me and for the love of Mother, act normal."

     Krow straightened his back and saluted in an over-dramatic fashion. Rage brazenly adjusted her bosom while inspecting her cleavage. Cicero stared at them, his lips mashed together tightly as he sighed heavily through his nose. He turned and checked the guards one last time before strolling out to join a group of travelers approaching the gate. Amazingly, Krow and Rage fell in line and followed suit casually.

     Avoiding eye contact, Cicero and his students passed through the gate undetected. The mass of people funneled through the streets toward the Wind District where the temple of Kynareth was located. Cicero broke off from the crowd around the side of the guard barracks. When he was sure the other two had followed, he quickly moved up the ramp to the roof and dropped into a squatting position, drawing his blade. A single guard stood near the edge of the rooftop watching the crowd from above. His sword was sheathed and his back was to the ramp.

     Cicero turned to his students and motioned to them to stop and get low. Thankfully, they did as they were told. Rage's eyes widened and she smiled. She was excited to witness her teacher make a kill. Now, this was the kind of lesson she liked to see. 

     Cicero turned and crept up behind the guard cautiously before suddenly standing and tapping the man on the shoulder. The guard turned in confusion but was unable to react before Cicero plunged the dagger into his gut several times in succession.

     "Nice!" Krow exclaimed as the man's body dropped like a rock. 

     Cicero flicked the blood from his dagger and resheathed it. "Move him over there," he instructed, pointing to the other end of the roof. Rage and Krow eagerly did as they were told. Cicero noted that their sudden enthusiasm may be the result of actually getting down to business. They'd been so reluctant about learning the basic maneuvers of close combat training. However, he could whole-heartedly agree that practicing on a target dummy was not nearly as rewarding as spilling actual blood.

     Cicero moved to the edge of the roof where the guard once stood and knelt down behind the barrier. He had a decent vantage point of the street leading from the gate to the market and was far enough away not to arouse suspicion. Once his students had moved the body out of the way, they came to kneel beside him with a curious air of awe and respect.

     "Alright, Rage. Your turn," Cicero explained, "I'm confident you can handle this. Just be patient and make sure the situation is ideal before striking."

     "How am I supposed to know who to kill?" she squinted down at the street while shielding her eyes from the sun.

     "Listen up," Cicero glanced at her, "Your target is a middle-aged Redguard, male, burr cut, low brow, approximately six foot. He dresses in affluent fabrics and is known to carry a decorative blade on his belt. He's unlikely to be trained with it and merely carries it for show. But stay on guard, nonetheless. He is also very social so you will likely find him loudly conversing with others and starting arguments with merchants regarding their goods. Claims to be a political advisor, but there has been no evidence of such, but that doesn't stop him from attempting to flex his unfounded influence in his favor. He is a literal social disease... and you are the cure."

     "Ooo-hoo-ho..." Rage giggled, "Oh, I like that. Man, you have a way with words that can make the ladies get all warm and wet-"

     "Engage him in conversation," Cicero spoke over her, "Ask him about the Cloud District."

     "What's the Cloud District?"

     "Ask him."

     "Ah, yeah."

     "Gain his trust and lure him to a more secluded area. Your goal is to take him out publicly but with enough cover to get away cleanly and reintegrate with the crowd. Got it?"

     "Aw, man!" Krow exclaimed, "Why does she get the fun one?"

     "Because you're an unpredictable psycho with no impulse control," Cicero hissed, oblivious to the self-reflecting irony of his words.

     "It may be true, but you don't have to be so blunt," Krow crossed his arms.

     Cicero turned back to Rage, "Ready?"

     She stared off at the market plaza, furrowing her brow, "Maybe..."

     "Just get down there and scout him out. Once you have the right man, establish your plan and put it into action. It's a good chance to learn on your feet. I'll be here watching to make sure nothing goes wrong."

     "Oh, Master Cicero's watching my back," she blushed as she stood up, "Watch it very closely." She winked and turned, swaying her hips as she sashayed to the ramp, clearly trying to draw attention to her posterior.

     Cicero cringed and exchanged disturbed glances with Krow.

     "Hey, man. It's worse for me cuz I'm related to the bitch," Krow mumbled, curling his lip.

     Cicero sighed and leaned on the barrier at the roof's edge to watch as Rage entered the crowd. He lifted his eyes toward the market to scan for the target when something caught his eye. A woman with short navy hair stood near the corner of Belethor's General Goods store. Cicero felt his heart sink.

     Without thinking, he jumped up, "I'll be right back," he huffed and ran to the ramp.

     Krow stood as well, "Wait! What do I do!?"

     "Keep an eye on your sister!" Cicero called back, not able to think straight.

~

     Jade leaned against the pillar outside the general goods shop and watched the many unfamiliar faces of tourists moving about. She held an uneasy expression while tapping her fingers restlessly on her thighs as if waiting for someone or something.

     Cicero pushed through the crowd but paused just across the street from her. His stomach was in knots and the nerves in his hands began to tingle as he stared at her. Had she been in Whiterun this entire time? This close to Dawnstar? Or was she just here for the holiday event? Gods, she looked beautiful. She wore a turquoise silk gown that draped over her like an elegant member of the royal house. Cicero couldn't take his eyes off of her. He'd never seen Jade dressed so nice. She looked so feminine and fragile... just like in those strange dreams. Perhaps her long absence from his life had clouded his memories of her.

     Jade continued to look around the crowd anxiously and ran her hand down her gown to smooth the wrinkles. Cicero noticed the roundness of her stomach as her hand passed over it pulling the fabric taut. His heart rate increased and he temporarily forgot to breathe. What in Oblivion was wrong with him? The reality of seeing her again and visibly showing signs of being with child... his child- was bittersweet. He could feel his heart breaking all over again.

     Cicero wanted to run over and pull her into his arms. He wanted to pick her up, carry her back to the sanctuary, and never let her go. Convince her that he's better now and that he's actually just a good man with a messy past. He was trying to be what she needed and deserved, and he'd never stopped thinking about her. Not even for a minute.

     Jade suddenly perked up when a young man stepped from the shop and approached her; A Nord with long blond hair, dressed in a rare set of dragon scale armor. He seemed to know her. Cicero frowned when he noticed Jade's excitement to see this guy. Who was he!? She placed her hands on his chest and leaned close as she spoke. Her eyes radiated some sort of desire, though the man didn't appear to share that feeling.

     Cicero ducked back into the crowd and made his way around the backside of the general goods store. He grumbled to himself. His shaky nerves were quickly replaced by tension as he rounded the side of the building to get close enough to eavesdrop. He knelt at the corner of the alchemy shop making sure to stay out of the line of sight. Jade probably wouldn't even recognize him with his shorter hair and more muscular build.

     "Back at my house," Jade flirted as she ran her fingers over the man's armor, "I can let you borrow it if you'd like..."

     "While I do prefer a nice two-handed weapon," the man shrugged, "this Blade of Woe you speak of sounds kinda neat. Might be good for cutting onions," he unsheathed the long sword he carried, "This damn thing isn't as fun as I thought it would be. It's too light. A sword for women."

     Cicero's eyes widened when he recognized the Ebony Blade. The last time he had seen it was when he was arrested in Riften. Someone must have retrieved it from the guards' stash of confiscated items. That cursed blade was too dangerous to just be passed around... not to mention, this man was clearly familiar with Jade. The weapon could cause him to turn on her. Cicero knew the mind games it played. He needed to get it away from him... from HER.

     "You can use anything from my weapons collection," she smiled at the man, "How about you come by tonight and poke around in my treasures?"

     "I suppose," he sighed, "I've been thinking about going up to Shear Point soon. Rumor says there's a word wall there that is protected by an undead dragon priest. Sounds like a good fight," his voice was cocky and strangely familiar...

     "Just don't get yourself killed up there, Mr. Grey-Cock," Jade swayed her hips a little, "I don't want to wait until Sovnrgarde to see you again."

     Cicero suddenly felt like he was going to be sick. There's NO WAY that was Urf, the idiot guard from Riften. That voice was unmistakable... and that would explain how he got the blade. But why was he here and why was Jade flirting with him!? As if Cicero's heart wasn't broken enough, he felt like she had thrown it on the floor and danced on it. Of all the men in Tamriel... Urf Grey-Cock had won her affection? How much more of a loser could Cicero be in her eyes if this was a man she deemed worthy of her love?

     No. This wasn't fair. Life was never fair, but this... This was a joke. Cicero backed away from the building and drew his bow. That idiot was dangerous and could not be trusted around Jade, especially with her carrying Cicero's only child.

     Even if Cicero could not be close to her, he was not going to just sit back and let some half-wit meathead swoop in and take over. He nocked an arrow and drew the string.

     "Not today, Urf," he huffed and released the shot.

     The arrow hit right on target. Urf cried out and grabbed his knee in pain before collapsing to the ground. Jade gasped and backed away, looking around for the attacker as the crowd around them began to uproar in panic.

     "He's been shot!" Someone yelled from nearby, "That man! He took an arrow in the knee!" frightened citizens began running around in fear and confusion. Cicero sheathed his bow and slipped back around the other side of the building, making his way around and coming up behind Jade. He grabbed her arm and pulled her around back away from the commotion.

     "Get off of me!" She screamed and clawed at him as he struggled to pin her against the store wall as gently as possible.

     "Jade, it's me!" Cicero whispered.

     She suddenly paused and lifted her eyes to meet his. A beat passed as the sounds of shouting and pandemonium rose around them. Cicero smiled and slowly released her. Jade trembled a little, lifting her hand to touch his chest as if she wasn't sure he was telling the truth. Frankly, he looked great. He somehow looked younger and much healthier than she'd ever known him to be.

     "Please..." Cicero lifted his hand to hold hers against his chest, "Don't be afraid of me..."

     Jade's surprised expression melted into anger. She ripped her hand away and slapped him across the face as hard as she could. Cicero staggered slightly but didn't regain his stature. He stared at the ground, his body twisted to the side.

     "How dare you approach me," she snapped, "How dare you think you can just grab me as if you own me! And YOU! You shot that arrow didn't you!?"

     Cicero took a deep breath and slowly stood straight again to face her. Avoiding eye contact, he said nothing.

     "Stay away from me. I owe you nothing," she adjusted her gown and stormed back around the side of the store to help Urf who was now surrounded by spectators.

     Cicero closed his eyes and exhaled through his nose. He was angry, yes... but at himself. His knee-jerk reaction of shooting the jerk in the knee had done more harm than good. What did he think was going to happen? He'd shoot the man that Jade clearly had some infatuation for and she'd just jump into his arms to show her gratitude? That she'd forgive him for all the messed up things he had done and they'd just run off to Cyrodiil and get married, raise a family, and live happily ever after? Oh, foolish Cicero. That's madness.

     "You!" someone shouted from nearby, "By the order of the Jarl, stop right there!"

     Cicero turned to see one of the guards closing in on him with a sword drawn. Well... this didn't go as planned. Heck, there wasn't even a plan. What a hypocrite... Teaching his students to plan ahead and avoid detection while here he is shooting people with arrows and attempting to kidnap a pregnant woman. Oh. His students! He'd forgotten!

     Cicero put his hands up and began to back away slowly. He was responsible for getting Rage and Krow out of the city safely one way or another.

     "Freeze!" the guard yelled as he approached cautiously, "Get down on the ground!"

     "Well, which is it?" Cicero asked in a peppy tone, "You want me to freeze or get down on the ground? I can't do both. If I freeze I can't likely drop... and if I get down on the ground, I'm going to be in motion."

     The guard stared blankly at him. Cicero smiled and nodded, "Think about it. I'll be back when you figure it out," he turned and pushed his way into the shifting crowd. Looking up toward the guard barracks, he saw Krow flailing his arms and pointing. Cicero turned to where he was gesturing and saw a clearing in the chaos. Rage was on the ground perched over a well-dressed Redguard, his face and throat covered in blood. She was... gnawing on his arm.

     "For the love of Sithis," Cicero groaned and ran over, "What are you doing!?"

     Rage glanced up at him, blood covering her face. She seemed disoriented by the commotion as she enjoyed her 'meal'. "Was this not the guy?" 

     Cicero grabbed her by her braids and pulled her to her feet. "Just run," he huffed and gave her a shove, "And get your brother! I'll meet you up the path back North. Just go-" He glanced back down at the body she was gnawing on. She'd somehow managed to take out the correct target while using the needless chaos he'd caused as cover. Whether or not that was intentional on her part, Cicero had to count that as a win. Though, it was quite a brutal way to go, even for someone as insufferable as Nazeem. Ah well, one more soul for Sithis.

     The crowd thinned and scattered as what felt like the entire Stormcloak army closed in on poor Cicero. He sighed and dropped his shoulders. Not again... Just like his trip to Cyrodiil, this was going to get ugly. He cracked his neck and drew his dagger. Time to play.

Chapter Text

    Cicero was running on pure adrenaline from the chaotic yet rewarding skirmish with half a dozen Whiterun guards and several off-duty Stormcloak soldiers. He couldn't tell how much collateral damage was done, but it was definitely enough to get his face on a wanted poster. He knew he was too low on stamina to continue evading capture, and they'd surely put him to death on the spot for the hassle. He had to get some distance before he could rest. He was fast, but he was quite outnumbered.

     Temporarily disoriented after sustaining a blow to the head, Cicero staggered through the city gates spitting blood and trying to keep his eyes locked on the horizon to stay balanced. The yelling of the guards echoed in his ears as he leaped over the stone barrier and dropped down to the lower level of the path. His landing wasn't as soft as anticipated despite attempting to break his fall with a well-timed roll. It was hard not to acknowledge the horrible sound of his knee popping on impact. But, just as expected, the guards refused to follow and took the long way around giving him a much-needed lead.

     The billowing smoke from Loreius's farmhouse was like a beacon. Favoring his throbbing knee, Cicero began sprinting to the north with every ounce of strength he had left. He huffed between his clenched teeth, struggling to breathe through burning lungs. The sounds of the guards shouting faded behind him, replaced by the sharp wisping of arrows zipping past his head. He stumbled as the terrain suddenly dropped into a gentle hill allowing him to slow to a jog. He glanced back over his shoulder, unable to see his pursuers, which meant they also couldn't see him anymore.

     "Ey, yo!" Krow called from up ahead. Cicero turned his gaze back ahead to see his students standing near a fenced-in stable. Though they both appeared panicked, he was relieved that they had made it out unscathed.

     "Seriously, man?" Krow's expression shifted to frustration as Cicero came to a stop beside him and leaned on the gate, "What was that all about?"

     "I don't wanna talk about it," Cicero mumbled in a raspy tone and pushed the gate open to make his way into the empty stable, "I need a moment... get in here and stay out of sight."

     Rage and Krow followed him in and took a seat on a bale of hay at the back of the small, dark structure. Cicero leaned his back on the wall and slid to the ground, exhaling slowly. He rubbed his knee and closed his eyes trying to get his heart rate down.

     "So, was that her?" Krow asked, chewing on a strip of taffy, "She looked familiar."

     Cicero opened one eye and peered at him, "Was that who?" he asked knowing good and well who he was referring to.

     "The former Listener. The one you have been pining over?"

     Rage suddenly sat forward, still wiping the blood from her chin, "Really? I missed her! Where was she? I wanted to see this legendary bitch in all her glory!"

     Cicero closed his eye again and banged the back of his head on the wall several times. His lips moved slightly as if speaking but nothing was audible.

     "Wooow. He's got it bad," Krow ripped off a piece of the taffy and handed it to Rage, "That chick's got his balls in a lock box under her bed."

     "For real?" Rage chewed the candy loudly, "That's a strange method for preservation. I assume salted, but I'd recommend marinating it in pork brine first. Pickling meat lasts longer."

     Krow cringed, "Bitch, don't be nasty. I mean teacher man is pussy whipped," he flicked the taffy strip with his wrist, "Bro can't get that sweet cherry out of his mind."

     "Oooh..." Rage frowned at her teacher, "So you actually slept with her?"

     "Hardcore," Krow replied as if Cicero wasn't even there, "Knocked her up from what I saw."

     "That's enough!" Cicero hissed, "My personal life is none of your business and you are not to speak of any of this again!"

     "Or what?" Krow chuckled and chewed his candy, "You'll ground me, Daddy Cicero?"

     "Test me," he leaned forward and glared, "I'll ground you six feet under."

     "Mere threats."

     "I've killed you before. I can do it again."

     Krow fell silent. Rage tried not to laugh but her tight-lipped smile was apparent.

     Cicero slowly got to his feet, "And where did you get that candy?"

     "What candy? It's not mine. I'm just holding it for a friend. I found it."

     "Found it? Or stole it?"

     "Since when are you the moral compass on thievery?" Krow slid off of the hay bale.

     "Is that what you were doing for twenty minutes in the farmhouse?" Cicero's tone was more annoyed than angry, "Snooping and stealing?"

     "Come on, man... I'm a thief by trade. His wife is- was a great baker. She had some pretty nice jewelry, too," he reached into the pouch on his belt and pulled out a silver necklace with green and blue jewels inlaid.

     Rage snatched it from his hand, "Oh! Nice! Is there more?"

     "Find your own loot!" Krow nabbed it back.

     "We are the Dark Brotherhood, not the Thieves Guild," Cicero sighed, leaning out of the stable to check for guards, "Eliminating the target is the priority. You can loot whatever you want after the job is done. NOT before-" he glanced back to see the siblings fighting over the necklace, "HEY!"

     Krow and Rage paused to look at him. Cicero's face was tired and weary. He almost looked like he was about to cry. "We need to go..." he said in a calmer tone, stepping over to Krow, "If anyone asks what happened, just tell them I got jumped by a group of bandits outside of town." Cicero ripped the necklace from Krow's hand before he could even react, "...and I'm keeping this."

~

     The walk back to Dawnstar took longer than the trip to Whiterun. With Cicero's knee injury and the siblings constantly complaining about being tired, they didn't arrive until past nightfall. Once the Sanctuary was in sight, Rage and Krow inexplicably found enough energy to break off into a foot race to see who could get home first. Cicero did not share their enthusiasm. He knew he looked pretty bad. Rage may have had the blood of the target down the front of her armor, but he looked as if he had been thrown down a cliff and stepped on by a mammoth. Twice. All poor Cicero could think about was crawling into bed and shutting off the world for a while. He could still feel the phantom pain of where Jade slapped him across the face.

     "Gods, Cicero!" Sage was sprinting up the shore toward him. His voice was full of panic matching his expression. It was quite out of character for the typically angsty and edgy initiate. Something was very wrong.

     "Ruby's gone!" he spoke urgently, "She was right there picking nightshade and I went to get her a basket but when I came back out..."

     The words made sense, but Cicero was having a hard time making the connection. He glanced up the shore beyond the Sanctuary entrance. Everything looked normal. Suddenly, he felt Sage grab his arms and shake him.

     "Did you hear me!? She's gone!! She'd never just walk away!" Sage's voice cracked, "I-... I think it was that sickly Breton..."

     Feeling dazed, Cicero's eyes finally met Sage's. Breton? What Breton? Maybe the knock to the head earlier was more serious than he thought;  he was having a difficult time processing this information.

    "What is wrong with you!?" Sage shook him again, "You look like shit. Get your head together, man. You need to help me find her. That Dwemer fanboy is dangerous!"

     "Dwemer...?" Cicero suddenly remembered the weird scrawny guy who had been stalking around the outside of the sanctuary lately. He was always dressed in ancient robes and creepy eyegear.

     "Ruby..." Cicero swiped Sage's hand away and turned to scan the Sanctuary entrance in a perplexed manner.

     "I was only inside for five minutes," Sage continued, "I know she wouldn't just follow him. Cicero, this freak wants to dissect her..."

     "Who!?" Cicero snapped, turning back to Sage, "Who is this guy and how do you know so much about him? What aren't you telling me, initiate?"

     Sage opened his mouth to reply but paused to carefully rethink his words, "...He's from the college. We met him when I took Ruby with me to acquire the Ancient Blood target. He-... he's the one who removed her shackles."

     Cicero felt as if the wind was knocked out of him. If he had known that this creep was stalking Ruby for months to try and kidnap her or worse... "Why didn't you say anything sooner?" Cicero's focus began to return as he paced around looking for any clues as to what direction she might have been taken.

     "That's not important now," Sage pressed his fingertips into his forehead looking utterly distraught, "I just know it was him. It had to have been him. Maybe he took her back to the college?"

     "How long ago did this happen?"     

     "Like, twenty minutes... maybe less. I ran up the beach calling for her thinking she got distracted. You and the other two were the first people I saw. He could have used a boat-"

     Something caught Cicero's eye. He stepped over to the small patch of nightshade that grew near the Black Door. Ruby always gathered new bulbs to help Babette with her alchemy. Several of the flowers were smashed and ripped up. A small book lay under the withered petals amid the shadows. He picked it up and flipped it open.

     "He must have dropped this," Cicero muttered as he scanned over the pages, "It looks like a research journal."

     Sage exhaled with a cautious sense of relief and quickly moved to join him, "He's some sort of scholar nerd. Obsessed with Dwarven stuff. That's why he was so interested in her collar." 

     "Chicken scratch," Cicero continued to flip the pages looking for clues, "This guy is nuts..."

     Sage glanced at Cicero's serious expression as he read. Having possibly the maddest nutter he'd ever met say that Sebastian was nuts was not what he wanted to hear. However, Sage had noticed Cicero's initial sanity holding relatively strong lately. None of that really mattered anyway. As much as they despised one another, they had to work together to get Ruby back safe.

     "What's this? I can't read this," Cicero pointed to a page that was scribed in a strange text.

    Sage abruptly grabbed the book the moment he recognized it. "Falmeri. This is snow elf language." He took the journal and stepped away, attempting to decipher it.

     "You can read that?" Cicero asked leaning over his shoulder.

     "Ahh... I've been trying to learn her language since she first arrived. I'm far from fluent, but I know a few keywords."

     "You need to tell me everything you know about this guy, initiate," Cicero's voice was low and stern, "Why would he want Ruby?"

     Sage didn't reply. He squinted at the pages and ran his finger across the lines of text. "B'thar-Zel," he finally said sounding confused.

     "What's that mean?"

     "It's written in Falmeri, but that's a Dwemer phrase. Loosely translated, I'm pretty sure that's the Allied City. Deep Folk Crossing in the Reach is also known by the same name..." he lifted his gaze to Cicero, "Isn't that where you found her?"

     "Get your horse," Cicero said walking back toward town, "I think I know where he took her."

Chapter Text

    Ruby twitched lightly as she began to come to. She opened her eyes slowly; a strange chemical smell lingered in her nose. Once her vision focused again she felt an overwhelming wave of nostalgia flow through her as she realized she was sitting on the floor of a familiar Dwemer ruin. The ceilings were high and covered with bronze pipes and fixtures. Several rows of metal shelves lined the walls, each with various tools and pieces of ore and scrap. The sound of highly pressured steam hissing came and went in alternating intervals.

     "She stirs! She stirs!" a familiar voice hummed nearby, "I will be right with you, my dear. Don't move. Not that you could. I've been working as fast as I can. Had a few setbacks. Working with ancient equipment after all, but it should be running now..."

     Ruby twisted to look for the owner of the voice but stopped when she heard the clanking of chains. She glanced down at her foot. She was chained to the floor with a familiar-looking ankle brace. She quickly climbed to her feet and pulled against it even though she knew it would never give.

     "Relax, relax!" Sebastian's voice echoed from around the corner, "Just make yourself at home- OH! Wait. You are home. Welcome back to B'thar-zel."

     "Cicero!" Ruby cried out as she tugged at the chain, "Please! Cicero!"

     "Oh, him. That Imperial you faun over. Bleh," Sebastian came around the corner pulling along another chain behind him, "Forget about that clown. Let me introduce you to someone more your type."

     Ruby looked up to see him leading a strange creature. With a bronze collar around its neck, its wrists were also bound preventing it from lashing out. Though it was elven in shape, it was frail and bony with long gangly limbs. It appeared to have no eyes and its nose and lips were omitted like that of a corpse. Ruby began to scream at the sight of it.

     "Wow, hey now, calm down. He's not gonna getcha," Sebastian latched the chain from the creature's neck to the fixture on the wall, "He has extra sensitive ears, being blind and all. Do you recognize him?"

     The creature twisted around and lunged toward Ruby, making a loud hissing sound. Sebastian retrieved a piece of scrap metal from a nearby table and smacked the beast in the side of the head with it.

     "Oh, Phillip. That's no way to greet a lady," he muttered, "You two play nice. I have a couple more calibrations to set. I wasn't completely ready for this yet but I had to take the opportunity as it came, right? Right."

     Ruby trembled as Sebastian turned to leave the room again. She looked back at the creature covered in bruises and scrapes, some appeared to be fresh. To her surprise, she began to feel a powerful sorrow radiating from it. This wasn't a creature. It was a mer nothing like she'd ever seen before. It made a subtle chattering noise as it tilted its head trying to listen.

     "Airu...?" she whispered in her native tongue. The creature paused in its fidgeting and turned to face her. What felt like generations of pain and despair flowed from its crippled aura. It was filled with rage and confusion that made Ruby feel ill. Tears began to stream down her cheeks. This poor tortured creature felt so familiar somehow. Was this the Dwemer's doing? Was this one of her people? Surely it was some sort of experiment gone terribly wrong... Where was her family? Were they still down here? Were they ok? Big brother might still be alive-

     "Alright!" Sebastian reentered the room with his goggles down over his eyes and a strange wrench-like tool in his hand, "We're gonna need to do a test run to make sure everything is working correctly. Some trespassing hooligans broke a vital steam valve a while back that overloaded the whole thing. After some contemplation, I'm assuming that's what thawed you." he reached down and unlocked her chain from the floor, "Small world."

     Sebastian tugged her along into the next room. Ruby glanced back at the frightened mer one last time, feeling some sort of connection she could not comprehend.

     "Cripes," Seb sighed, "To work on something for almost sixty years just to have it literally blow up in your face. I bet it was the Forsworn. Those idiots are always messing around down here... busting down gates and ripping off levers..." he jerked the chain again to get her attention.

     Ruby stumbled as she was led into an adjacent room. She turned to gawk up at the large bronze contraption covering the entire back wall. Dozens of pipes and cables ran to it from the other rooms, many of which were filled with an unusual glowing pink fluid. Sebastian took her arm and pulled her down into a seat embedded in the side of the machine. He clamped her wrists to the armrests and reached over to move a large cuffed eyepiece around the side of her face. She flinched and leaned away, immediately noticing that the metal was much newer and not fully Dwemer in design.

     "Yeah, I know what you're thinking," he muttered, "'Oh, Sebastian, you couldn't possibly be older than 25! You look so young and vibrant!' Yeah, yeah. I get it," he cleared his throat and grabbed Ruby's hand placing the wrench-like tool around one of her fingers, "A glorious side-effect of the pink stuff. Heals more than just wounds. Heals time... memories... shame it can't heal trauma-" he paused and cleared his throat again, "Look at me, please."

     Ruby glanced up from the tool to look him in the eye. Tears poured down her face.

     "I know it's not your fault," Seb said quietly, "You seem like a nice girl... despite the fact that you bit me back at the Midden. Understandable, given the circumstances, I suppose. But... it's nothing personal. For this to work, I need your blood."

     Keeping eye contact, he gripped down on the tool clamping it tightly around her finger. Ruby gasped in pain trying to pull her hand away but the cuff held her in place.

     "Just a few drops," Sebastian removed the gadget and adjusted the colored lens on his goggles before holding it up to examine it, "Your very existence was a blessing by the gods. Or perhaps one in particular. Phillip's blood was too tainted from generations of mutation and inbreeding."

     Sebastian gracefully turned on his heel and moved across the room. He inserted the tool into a control console and flipped a large switch while talking to himself under his breath. Ruby's empathy could sense a sudden rush of urgency coming from him; an eagerness of both fear and longing. Though why wasn't his expression reflecting that?

     Strange noises began to clank and whirr from within the walls. Ruby had seen machines like this in her past; many different kinds with countless purposes. Some caused pain and some made her feel ill. They emitted scary noises and lights. Some devices were small enough to stand on while others filled entire rooms. The Dwemer were always using their strange technology on her people. The machines they built were not only formidable but could produce power unmatched by even the most advanced of magicks.

     Seb looked over the panel of controls once more before returning to her. He smiled and leaned down to look directly into her red eye. 

     "I know you're watching this," he stated proudly, "And I'm not afraid of you. The Creator controls his own fate, gods be damned," he laughed and quickly reached up to pull the metal eyepiece down over her eye. After carefully adjusting it, he backed away slowly.

     "Please don't move. Don't mess this up," Sebastian quickly returned to the console, "It shouldn't hurt... I hope it doesn't hurt. Don't let this hurt," he sounded like he was trying to reassure himself. He took a deep breath and placed his hand on the switch in the middle of the control panel. After a long moment, that strange wide smile crept across his face again and he pulled the lever down. The machine began to vibrate as steam gradually filled the pipes and leaked down the walls. A hauntingly melodic hum began to rise.

     Ruby closed her eyes and cried out in confusion. The room filled with steam leaving only the eerie aura of the bright glowing pink from the cables. Her body began to feel warm and a wave of nausea flowed through her. Her right eye throbbed and she could feel hot fluid pouring down her cheek. It only lasted a minute but felt like an eternity. The sounds of the roaring machine faded and there was a loud clank of the vents opening around her. The steam rapidly dispersed.

     Sebastian hesitated before cautiously approaching her. He gently lifted the eyepiece from her face and reached out to pull down on her eyelid to examine her iris. The metal from his gauntlet felt cold upon her skin.

     "It's... hard to tell..." he lifted his goggles to his forehead and leaned in, "The pupil is reflecting light. An opaque film seems to be covering it," he waved his other hand at her, "I wasn't sure what to expect from a foreign bio-implant, but I think it worked all the same..."

     Ruby's body trembled as she realized she could no longer see from her right eye. What had he done to her? The pain was gone, but the loss of vision was bringing up some strange and very unsettling memories. She suddenly recalled a time when she was very young and had a lot of pain in her eye. She had been injured somehow. The details were so faded and only the feeling truly remained. The Dwemer helped her. She recalled their voices. None of it made any sense. She wanted to go home! Not this home. She wanted to go back to the sanctuary.

     "Cicero..." she cried weakly and up at Sebastian who was writing frantically in a journal and he paced slowly away. He mumbled numbers and appeared to be processing some equations. After a long moment, he popped his lips and tossed the book on a tool cart before spinning around to look at her again.

     "By Xrib!" he eagerly strode over, "The attachment was last minute, but the process proved effective despite the variables. You know, I could have just cut your finger off to test this... honestly, I did you a favor," Sebastian reached down and began uncuffing Ruby's wrists while smiling widely. He was emitting immense joy and relief. His hands shook with anticipation.

     Ruby stared at his face with deep curiosity. The depressed yet eager longing he had expressed only minutes before was completely flushed away. The near-euphoric hope he now exuded made her feel oddly safe.

     "You look great, by the way," he laughed awkwardly and took her hand to help her out of the seat, "Still the most beautiful Falmer I've ever had the pleasure to lay my eyes on."

     She glanced down at her hand in his and recalled their first meeting at the library. Her empathy picked up on a similar hint of intrigue. Before she could even process Sebastian's unusually rapid emotional transitions, she noticed that the scars on her hand were gone. 

     "Just like new. Like it never happened," Seb bent down to retrieve the chain from her ankle cuff and led her to the wall beside the console to secure it, "Now hold tight. I have to get the glenohumeral peripherals installed... this might take a bit longer. I've gotta lot more damage to heal than you." He rotated his shoulders and leaned over the panel again to re-calibrate, "It'll be nice to feel whole again..."

Chapter Text

     Riding at full pace all night, it was the shortest time Cicero had ever made traveling from Dawnstar to the Reach. He knew his horse needed to rest, but only began to slow down when the familiar Dwarven structures began scattering the mountainside along the winding river. Sage was following close behind. Cicero could occasionally hear him yelling complaints though it was difficult to hear over the rushing of the water. Once the iconic Dwemer-made bridge came into view, Cicero finally came to a stop and began scanning the cliff-side.

     Sage rode up beside him, "Is this it?" he huffed as if he was the one doing all the running.

     "Yeah," Cicero dismounted, "I'm pretty sure this is Deep Folk Crossing." He pet the horse's nose before leading her to the water's edge.

     "'Pretty sure'? I thought you knew exactly where we were going," Sage slid off his mount as well, "We don't have time to spend sightseeing."

     "This is Deep Folk Crossing," Cicero glanced back at him, "The Listener and I came through here on our way to Karthspire. This is where we found Ruby." He tied his horse to a stump near the water so she could drink and began walking up the bank of the river. Sage did the same and ran to catch up.

     "Do you remember where the entrance is?" the initiate asked, pulling the journal from his belt.

     "I do," Cicero replied, "But it might be full of traps again."

     "Traps? What kind of traps?"

     "Gods, if I know. Forsworn traps. Falmer traps. Afflicted Traps. Dwarven traps."

     "Sebastian traps."

     Cicero paused and looked back at him, "What?"

     "That's his name," Sage conjured a small mage light and flipped open the journal skimming over the pages again, "I saw some sketches in here. Maybe he wrote something about them."

     "Who would be foolish enough to write their secret plan in a journal-" Cicero paused realizing the hypocrisy of his words, "A fool. A fool would do that, wouldn't he?" He sighed. Being sane again had its downsides, like remembering the stupid and irrational things he had done when his mind was a mess.

     Sage continued to read as they walked a few more yards. Cicero squinted in the dark trying to find something along the riverbank ahead of them. The large boulders to their left opened up to a small clearing with an abandoned fire pit in the middle. The wood was decomposed but the hole was still visible by the outline of some small stones. He stopped to look down at it.
Sage collided with him. Cicero stumbled and turned quickly, shoving him off like an annoyed older brother.

     "Watch it!"

     Sage staggered almost dropping the journal. He glared up at him, "You're the one who stopped!"

     "This is the camp where the Listener and I-... Jade and I..." he lifted his gaze to the dark cliffside across the river, "There was a break in that ridge and a lot of steam was released from underground. We broke something while we were looting the place and it must have caused some sort of pressure build-up."

     "And...?"

     "And we found Ruby the next morning in the river here. If she was frozen in the ice since the first era; the steam thawed her out. That means her body was carried down river."

     "So you assume the Breton took her back here? Why?" Sage frowned looking impatient.

     "Trust me. The city ruins are south of here." Cicero took off in a jog up the bank leaving Sage and the horses behind.

~

     The entrance of the subterranean city of B'thar-zel was not easily accessible. The only ones foolish enough to venture in were determined treasure hunters and adrenaline junkies. The ruins had been sealed off for centuries by a cave-in, likely around the time the Dwemer disappeared. But apparently, some determined individuals had excavated a narrow entry several decades prior, easily missed in the cliffside, if not for a keen eye and a deep sense of curiosity. 

     Once inside, Cicero and Sage wasted no time navigating the many ancient corridors below. The main passage was already scavenged clean of pipes and metal scrap. Several bodies of unknown infiltrators, likely bandits or scavengers, were scattered about in the triggered traps. The further in they ventured, the fewer bodies they found. Cicero slowed his pace taking this as a sign that not many lived long enough to get to this point.

     Passing through a large set of warped bronze gates, they entered a tall dark chamber. The path became a narrow walkway suspended over a darkened pit. It was impossible to see what was above or below. The walkway twisted into the darkness toward the other end of the chamber to an adjacent entryway. Cicero hesitated.

     "I haven't been this deep before," he said quietly, "I'm not sure what's ahead. Did you find any maps or clues in that journal?"

     Sage slowed to a stop and looked up from the book. He'd been walking close behind while trying to find any usefulness from the scattered and near illegible script. He stared at his superior at the edge of the walkway, pressed against the darkness. It was then that he realized just how alone they truly were. Sage's mind drifted in silence as he thought about how easily he could kill Cicero and simply report it as an accident. Perhaps the fool fell into a trap without thinking. Maybe he had a lapse of judgment and stepped over the edge of the elevated walkway and tumbled to his demise. It could happen to anyone. They stared at one another for a long awkward moment. 

     "No. I haven't found anything of use," Sage finally replied and glanced over toward the adjacent walkway before quickly regaining eye contact.

     Cicero studied his face in the flickering mage light. Sage tried his best to keep a calm facade but found himself glaring.

     "Say, initiate," Cicero crossed his arms and tongued the inside of his cheek, "Why don't you take the lead for a bit? At this point, I know as much about this place as you."

     Sage's involuntary glower twitched into a look of unease, "I-... I mean, you're the leader, right? I'm just an inexperienced initiate, my Knower."

     Cicero tightened his lips. Sage had never addressed him by his title before. Something was up. Cicero suddenly lurched forward and snatched the book from the initiate's hands.

     "What are you doing!?" Sage hissed frantically trying to grab it back, "You don't even know the langu-" 

     Cicero suddenly flicked the journal over his shoulder sending it plummeting into the dark pit below.

     "What was the point of that!?" Sage huffed.

     "Now we're both on the same page," he sneered, "You go on ahead. I'll be right behind you."

     Sage clenched his fists. Cicero was way more observant than he seemed. Maybe he was thinking the same thing? Sage's eyes trailed up the walkway to the entry on the other side.

     "Go on. I've got your back, initiate," Cicero's voice dripped with sarcasm, "Always and forever..."

     Sage huffed through his nose, "There's a trap four steps past that doorway."

     "Oh? Is that so? How in Oblivion could you know such a deadly detail? Hmmm?"

     He hesitated as he came up with a good enough lie, "I can see the tripwire."

     Cicero knew better than to turn and look for himself. He was not about to give Sage the opportunity to try something, "You must eat a lot of carrots to be able to see that well in the dark from twenty feet away. Are you sure there wasn't something in that journal and you just conveniently forgot to share this knowledge with dear Cicero?"

     Sage was beginning to feel intimidated. Cicero referred to himself in the third person. He'd only been known to do that when his mind was slipping. Cicero was fine, though. He had been fine for a long time now. He was just trying to scare Sage, right? He wouldn't do anything crazy like-

     Cicero lunged forward and grabbed the initiate by the back of the shoulder. He thrust him across the walkway through the darkened entry while laughing hysterically.

     "Have a nice trip!" he cackled, "See you next fall!"

     Sage yelped in terror as he blindly slid across the stone floor. He felt the tripwire snap as he passed through it and he immediately curled into the fetal position covering his head. The sound of shifting metal filled the corridor as a gigantic blade extended from the wall slicing through the air a few feet above where he lay.

     Cicero sauntered down the walkway and reached up to pull a bronze lever cleverly disguised in the architecture beside the entryway. The blade retracted back into the wall.

     Sage panted loudly; his eyes wide as if staring into the Void itself, "What in Oblivion is wrong with you!?" he scrambled to his feet, "Are you trying to kill me!?"

      "Yikes," Cicero placed his hands on his hips, "No need to lose your head."

     "You're not funny!" he cried backing away, "You're nuts! You claim to no longer be mad, but you have some serious issues, pal!"

     "Initiate..."

     "You stay away from me! And for that matter, stay away from Ruby!" he continued backing down the hall, "Jade had the right idea by leaving. You might as well-"

     Cicero suddenly burst forward and grabbed Sage by the sleeve pulling him back. A second blade popped out of the wall just inches from where he just was. The two stood in silence for a long moment, watching the blade slice through the air with a rusty grinding sound. Cicero finally released his sleeve and took a deep breath.

     "Talk about a close shave..." he muttered.

     Sage glanced back at him, "...why'd you do that?"

     "I'm not about to kill a Dark Brother over some silly rivalry," Cicero twisted his mouth to the side slightly offended that Sage would think that little of him.

     "You literally just threw me INTO a trap!"

     "To the ground," he corrected him, "I was just trying to scare some sense into you. I knew the blade was higher up. I've been paying attention to architecture around previous traps."

     Sage squinted. He opened his mouth to argue but was interrupted as the ground began to vibrate. A loud rumbling filled the corridor and the blade retracted back into the wall on its own as a blast of steam blew out in its place. Cicero and Sage braced themselves on the wall until the loud noise stopped.

     "What was that?" Sage asked quietly.

     "I think we're close," Cicero replied and cautiously took the lead down the hall.

~

     Sebastian rotated his shoulders and cracked his neck as he anxiously reset the machine while leaning over to refer to his notes from time to time. Ruby watched feeling completely enthralled with the rapid emotions flowing from him. She'd never felt such passion and complexity.

     "It didn't hurt, did it?" he asked glancing back at her, "No pain? Tuahei nenu?"

     Ruby shook her head slightly, "Nyar nenu. Pihau nenuri."

     "Well, some discomfort is to be expected with rapid cellular regeneration," he wiped his nose and turned back to the console, "This has been a long time coming, my little snow friend. Long time. Very long time. I've spent a majority of my life trying to get this machine up and running and modifying it to my unique needs- and now... this is the moment of," he paused and dramatically flipped a switch, "TRUTH!"

     The machine hummed loudly as the cables with the pink fluid began to glow again and the steam vents slammed shut. Sebastian smiled and took a deep breath. His nerves were causing him to twitch. He took a moment to try and control his breathing.

     "Cicero!" Ruby gasped in a cheery tone. Sebastian turned to see, of course, Cicero standing in the doorway.

     "Oh... it's you," Seb groaned, "Predictable. Could you just give me like... ten minutes? Just ten. That's all I ask, honestly."

     Ruby pulled against the chain reaching for her friend. The sight of her in a shackle again sent fire through Cicero's veins.

     "Get Ruby," he hissed to Sage who had just stepped in beside him.

     "Yeah," Sebastian said in a flustered tone, "Yeah, you can take her now. She did great. Everything worked out as planned and no casualties to note. Fixed her eye issue. You're welcome-"

     Cicero slowly and ominously walked toward him. The understanding of impending doom was stamped on Sebastian's panicked face. Sage ran over and unhooked Ruby from the chain, taking her into his arms.

     "Now listen," Seb began to plead, "I know we've never officially met but-" he extended his right hand, "My name is Sebastian Jullien Rye of Daggerfall. I'm a scholar of Dwemer-"

     Cicero grabbed Seb's wrist and jerked him forward ready to pummel him in the face... when there was a strange snapping sound as the arm literally came off at the shoulder. Cicero's furious expression was replaced with that of horror.

     Sebastian exhaled and raised his other hand to hold the loose fabric of his sleeve against his shoulder. He appeared frustrated and a bit embarrassed.

     "What the f-" Sage gasped and began backing out of the room with Ruby, "He's a freaking automaton!?"

     "No! Nope!" Seb quickly corrected, "No! Just my arms... and a few essential implants to keep things working. It's uh... hard to explain, but I can assure you, I'm not a threat."

     Cicero's head was spinning. He stared at the strange metal arm he held and began to feel ill. He looked back up at Sebastian and curled his lip.

     "I do need that back though," Seb continued, "It's not exactly something I can easily replace. Some of the parts are quite invaluable and near impossible to find duplicates of in this age if you get what I'm sayin'."

     Cicero's lack of sleep for the last two days had finally caught up to him. His anger, confusion, and annoyance had thrown him into a trance. With his patience depleted, he swung the appendage like a club, smashing the scrawny Breton over the head with it. Sebastian collapsed to the ground like a pile of bricks.

     "Why'd you do it, freak?" Cicero huffed standing over him.

     Seb held his head with his one hand and moaned in pain. He didn't answer. Cicero swung the arm again striking him across the ribs.

     Ruby screamed as she could feel his rage building and blending with Sebastian's fear. Cicero lifted his foot and pushed him over onto his back before grabbing his other arm and ripping it from his shoulder.

     "Stop!" Ruby cried as she attempted to pull away from Sage who was trying to keep her back.

     Sebastian coughed in pain but didn't put up a fight. He just laid there with his eyes tightly closed and his head turned away, tucking his face into the floor.

     "How dare you?" Cicero's voice was wild with fury, "You come to my home to stalk and kidnap my friend!? This sweet, loving, selfless elf... And you have the audacity to torture and experiment on her!?"

     "It's not-"

     "May Sithis have more mercy on your soul than I!" Cicero swung the appendage down once more upon Sebastian's head making a loud cracking sound. The Breton stopped trembling.

     "No!!" Ruby shrieked and sobbed as she slid down in Sage's arms. The initiate followed her to the floor to hold her. He couldn't imagine why she was so upset.

     Cicero's pent-up frustrations were on full display as he continued to beat the fallen man before turning his rage to the machines around him. He ripped out cables, threw components against the wall, and completely demolished the appliances around the ominous metal seat. Once the tunnel vision passed, Cicero took a moment to catch his breath. He turned and glanced back at Ruby. His expression softened upon seeing the terror on her face.

     "Ruby... it's ok now. What did he do to your eye?" he asked gently, "Did he touch you?"

     Ruby released a frightened sob and grasped onto Sage's robes, burying her face in his shoulder. A rush of sadness flowed through Cicero as he realized that she was not afraid of her creepy kidnapper... she was afraid of him.

     "Ruby. It's okay. Cicero isn't mad anymore." he tried to comfort her, but as he moved closer, she tensed up more.

     "Yikes," Sage scoffed, "You have a problem." He stood, helping Ruby to her feet. She refused to let go of him, clearly seeing the initiate as a source of protection.

     There it was again; That dreadful feeling of loss. Ruby was terrified of Cicero, just like Jade. It was the same thing all over again. He was doing everything he could to protect the women he loved but inadvertently scared them away with his unhinged anger issues. How... how did it get this far? The madness was no longer to blame.

Chapter Text

   The harsh scent of burning chemicals pulled Sebastian back to consciousness. His head throbbed like his skull was caving in and his metallic breastplate was scorching hot, burning his skin. The crackling of flames sent a jolt of alertness through him as he suddenly became aware of his situation. The room was on fire. He twisted around trying to pull himself into a sitting position, his prosthetic arms lying on the floor beside him.

     The large machine he had spent decades working on was in flames. It was hardly recognizable and looked like someone had smashed it in a rage. Pillars of metal were warped and the many tubes and cables were torn from the walls. The pink chemical leaking from the cables was apparently highly flammable. It only took Sebastian a matter of seconds to realize the urgency of the situation. He began scrambling and kicking at his right arm to pull it closer.

     "Phillip!?" he shrieked, his voice cracking, "Are you out there!? Did they spare you?" He managed to pull the arm close enough to lean over it and press his shoulder against the joint. It made a clicking sound as he arched his collarbone to lock it in place. After a moment, the pink fluid in the forearm regained its subtle glow allowing him to move his fingers again. He then quickly grabbed his other arm off of the floor and staggered to his feet to flee from the smoke-filled room. 

     "Phillip! This is unbelievable! UNBELIEVABLE, PHILLIP!" Sebastian coughed, trying to get his other arm attached.

     The chained Falmer pulled against its restraints in excitement. It hissed and slashed toward its captor.

     "Not only did he beat me with my own appendages like some sort of madman," he grunted when his arm finally popped back into place, "but do you see!? Just look!" Sebastian gestured dramatically to the smoldering room behind him and paused as if waiting for a reply, "...Oh. Well, I guess you can't see. He destroyed my work, Phillip! Everything is gone! Up in literal smoke!"

    Emotionally fatigued, Sebastian held his head in pain and lowered to his knees just inches from the slashing claws of the Falmer. The panicked creature hissed and continued to reel around in confusion.

     "And now what...?" Seb mumbled; the taste of blood was making him feel ill, "What do I do now? This was my only reason... All of my research, my journals- my motivation... gone."

     Sebastian lifted his eyes to the creature before him, "And he took her. That Imperial. He took the girl. But did you see- gah, I know, I know... I saw the look on her face as he threatened me. She was... well, she appeared to be concerned. Fearful for me. But why?"

     His eyes drifted away in thought, "As strange as it sounds, it was almost as if she could feel my fear. I've had some suspicions and this could explain so many of my observations."

     Phillip continued to pull on the chains as the smoke gradually poured into the room through the entryway.

     "Phillip, are you even listening?" Sebastian glanced back to the frightened beast, "Considering the documentation I've discovered about the experiments that were performed in this facility... if my theories are correct based on the biotech in her eye and the enchantments of her previous restraints, she was part of Head Architect Kyrin's program... Phillip, I think she might be an empath."

~

     A few weeks had passed since the incident at the ruins. Sage was enjoying the sudden extra attention from Ruby. When she wasn't hiding in the initiates' quarters, she was practically attached to him at the hip. Being a mer of small stature, it made him feel particularly masculine to have this female practically begging for his protection. Cicero really was a fool for not appreciating what he had. The whole shocking scene with the Breton and those weird mechanical arms was a blessing since Ruby's new fear of Cicero was keeping her close to Sage.

     Ruby sat on Sage's bed sifting through various fabrics he had brought for her. She spent most of her time passing between the initiates' quarters and the cooking station avoiding Cicero and the Ancient Blood. Sage had promised that if any of them even looked at her funny he'd purify the entire sanctuary himself. She wasn't sure what that meant, but she could feel his firm confidence and that was enough for her.

     Sage entered the room and promptly sat on the bed beside her, "Hey, Beautiful. Last night's contract was a baker and I managed to grab a sack of sugar from her pantry. Would you like to make rock candy after everyone's gone tonight?"

     Ruby glanced up at him. She didn't smile as much as she used to. In fact, she always seemed to have a longing stare. It reminded Sage of an abandoned puppy and it was quite upsetting.

     "You don't need to worry, love," Sage brushed a piece of hair from her face, "You're safe. I won't let him hurt you. I've taken down men twice his size. He's old anyway."

     Ruby slowly put her pile of fabrics on the nightstand. She sewed all the time but Sage had almost never seen anything she had made. Was she hiding it? Not that he cared, really. Clothing didn't interest him anyway unless it was draped off of her body seductively. That was possibly the only thing he missed about Jade; her daily dose of complimentary cleavage.

     "Ruby tired," she sighed.

     "'I am tired'," Sage corrected, "I is the subject pronoun," he gently touched his fingertip to her upper chest, "Ruby is the subject. When you refer to yourself, you say, 'I', remember?"

     Ruby nodded again, always grateful for his patience, "I am tired, please."

     "You've been having those weird dreams again, huh," he moved closer, "You can always sleep closer to me at night. I think you'd sleep better if we shared body heat."

     "Sage is nice," she said quietly, forcing a smile.

     "That's right. I'm the nice one. The only one here you can trust." Sage casually brushed his hand across his mouth to remove his lip spike in a natural and almost flirtatious gesture, "The rest of them are dangerous... like Cicero," he carefully placed his fingers under her chin before slowly leaning in to kiss her. Ruby flinched and immediately turned away. 

     Sage frowned, "What's wrong?"

     Ruby shook her head and avoided eye contact. Her posture was tense; Very unlike the once cheerful girl.

     "Relax," Sage leaned in just to be rejected again. He huffed through his nose, "Listen, you don't need to be afraid of me. Like you said, I'm the nice one. I bring you gifts and I cook you special meals... I spend my bonuses on fabrics that you never seem to use..." there was a hint of agitation in his tone.

     "Rub-... I think Sage is kind to Ruby... I-" She struggled to translate her thoughts. Sage took her wrist and pulled her closer. She turned back to face him looking uncomfortable.

     "Hey, hey..." he said calmly, "I said I'd never let anyone hurt you. That includes me," his grip on her arm was needlessly firm. She could feel his frustration mounting.

     "I am sorry," Ruby mumbled, squinting her right eye a bit. She hadn't been able to see from it since the strange machine had healed her scars. The semi-blindness was keeping her on edge.

     "Don't be sorry. I just need to know that I'm appreciated," Sage leaned in and kissed her. She stiffened up and allowed it, her wrist was beginning to hurt in his grasp.

     Noticing her lack of resistance, Sage slowly laid her back on the bed. As he continued to hold her arm with one hand, his other firmly cupped her breast as he leaned in to kiss her neck. Ruby flinched and gripped Sage's shoulder pushing him away lightly, but not enough to take his attention away from his bountiful reward for 'protecting' her from the others.

     Ruby gasped and looked up at the ceiling trying to be patient. Sage was not as gentle with her as Cicero always was. He was a very blunt person and always told her what he wanted even if she didn't understand.

     She closed her eyes and turned away as she felt him pull her top down, exposing her. An unsettling emotion began to emerge. She could feel his assertive and controlling nature clashing with her feelings of violation. He shouldn't be doing this. This didn't feel right.

     Ruby was a wet nurse for her clan. She cuddled and nursed the children whose mothers were taken away. It was something that brought her much joy and gave her a sense of purpose, caring for the helpless. Allowing Sage to touch her this way was very upsetting. The moment she felt his lips upon her, she lifted her free hand and grabbed him by the hair.

     "NO!" she snapped pulling his head away, "Not you!"

     Sage stared at her in surprise. His shock quickly shifted to offense as he reached up and pulled her fingers from his hair.

     "Seriously?" he growled, displaying his sharpened teeth, incidentally providing a stark contrast to her soft nature, "What's the problem? You go and flaunt around in that stupid jester outfit with your tits popping out obviously to get Cicero's attention and the moment I give you that attention, you shut me down? You can't just display yourself and then reject the warranted reaction!"

     Ruby attempted to free her wrist from his grasp while pulling her top back up to cover herself.

     "No one likes a tease," Sage grabbed her other wrist to completely immobilize her, "I've done nothing but care for you... and you just use me."

     Ruby flinched as suddenly Sage's grip was released and he was pulled off of her. Cicero lifted the small Bosmer by his neck and swung his body into the wall, pinning him there. Sage kicked and gagged, clawing at Cicero's arm. Ruby quickly sat up and fixed her top. She instantly felt the same emotions around her that she did at the ruins. Intense fear and rage... but oddly, both were emanating from Cicero this time.

     "A-Again?" Sage choked while trying to sound confident, "What? Are you going to rip my arms off and beat me with them as well?"

     Cicero clenched his teeth as painful memories of hearing his mother crying at night came flooding back. The monster who took advantage of her was dead, but the scars remained. He glared sharply into Sage's eyes while holding him a foot off the ground. He knew Ruby was watching. He knew Ruby could feel this.

     "Tenet number five, Knower!" Sage's voice was strained, "Never kill a Dark Brother-"

     "Tenet number three," Cicero squeezed a little tighter, "Never disobey an order from a superior. Don't ever go near her again." He released the insolent initiate, dropping him to the floor with a thud.

     Sage rubbed his throat trying desperately to contain his rage. His skin tingled and his hands twitched, but he knew to remain calm and not make a bigger scene. The last thing he wanted was to lose the protection of the Brotherhood. 

     Cicero glanced back at Ruby. She nervously returned his gaze. He didn't say a thing. He couldn't. There was nothing to say. Instead, he simply turned and left the room. It was best that he created some distance before he did something foolish.

      Oh, how he wanted to beat that punk into a bloody pulp.

Chapter Text

    Still reeling from the confrontation with Sage, Cicero quickly made his way to the main hall and took a seat at the dining table to try and calm his nerves. He was so heated that he hadn't even noticed Tripp sitting across from him. Cicero had not seen much of the other three Ancient Blood in the last few months. Their training with Wrath must have been intensive.

     The Khajiit sipped from a cup and lightly nodded, "Tripp can tell that the Knower has a lot on his mind, yes?" 

     Cicero ran his hand down his face not wanting to talk about what had just transpired, "I've not been sleeping well. I've been having stressful dreams."

     "Oh... This one is intrigued," he purred, "Much can be learned from dreams. What are they telling you?"

     "I don't think I could explain it clearly. It changes a bit every time..."

     "A reoccurring dream? Fascinating. Perhaps someone is trying to tell the Knower something? Perhaps the message is lost in translation." Tripp poured him a drink from a silver flagon and slid the cup across the table.

     "I've got more important things to focus on at the moment," Cicero mumbled and took the cup, glancing down into it, "Just another distraction as far as I'm concerned."

     "Trauma, both physical and emotional, is easier to heal when exposed to the air. Open up, my friend. Many webs of truth can be unwound if one chooses to seek peace."

     "What are you, some sort of philosopher?"

     "Ha!" Tripp exclaimed with delight, "This one merely observes others. Tripp can tell that the Knower is more than just one who holds much knowledge. He also holds much despair."

     Cicero huffed and rolled his eyes before taking a sip of the beverage.

     "It is not shameful to admit that one is sad," the Khajiit continued, "Tripp doesn't just drink because he is happy with his life."

     "What do you have to be sad about? You've only been in a mortal body for a few months," Cicero sighed as he spun the liquid around in his cup.

     "This vessel has many unfortunate memories, friend. They are now Tripp's to bear... but it seems to this one that a lot of what weighs Cicero down is not his to carry."

     Cicero lifted his eyes to meet his, "What's that supposed to mean?"

     "Stop taking on the pain of others. There's enough in the Knower's heart to fill the Void itself."

     Silence passed between them. Cicero looked back down at the drink in his hand. His reflection in the liquid was warped but he could still see the healing cuts on his face from the event in Whiterun a few weeks back. Why did that happen?

     "I miss her," he finally said. The words burned a little upon his lips. Hearing himself say it out loud was both painful and relieving at the same time.

     "Ah, there it is." Tripp smiled warmly.

     "There what is?"

     "The pain. Why hasn't Cicero gone to her?"

     "I... I have... I mean, I tried to. She doesn't want to see me."

     "Have the right words been said?"

     Cicero's stomach sank. He quickly lifted the cup to his lips to try and fill the empty feeling. Tripp watched him with a knowing expression.

     "Why does the Knower fear these words?"

     Cicero finished the beverage and slammed the cup on the table lowering his shoulders. He exhaled slowly and gazed across the table from under his brow, "You really want to know why?"

     "Indeed."

     "Because I-..." he paused inhaling through his nose and lifting his eyes to the ceiling as if trying to fight back tears. He chewed his lip for a moment trying to gather himself before exhaling and relaxing, "Because if I admit how I feel I'm leaving myself vulnerable to the consequences and I have to take responsibility for what comes from it. Okay?"

     "Like now?"

     "..."

     "The Knower has admitted that he fears losing his heart if he tries to give it away. Any pain from this confession is on his shoulders. So how does he feel now?"

     "...Afraid."

     Tripp puckered his lips and nodded, "Not many men can admit to being afraid. Maybe she could appreciate that."

     Cicero could feel his eyes burning as he struggled not to cry in front of one of his subordinates.

     "Emotions are not a weakness, my friend. The most sensitive are the most understanding. The most understanding are the most aware. This one is an observer as well."

     Cicero nodded slowly trying to process everything.

     The shadows suddenly shifted and a deep gravelly voice arose from behind him, "What was that about?" The Wrath's presence completely derailed the conversation.

     Tripp put his hands up a little as if surrendering, "The kind Khajiit is merely giving the Knower an ear." 

     "No, him," Wrath approached Cicero, "The dispute with the initiate."

     "Oh," Cicero tensed up and quickly wiped his face, "It shouldn't happen again. The kid was testing his limits and crossed the line-"

     "Just to remind you," Wrath lumbered past the table, "I am the Wrath of Sithis... and I don't feel invoked." he continued his slow walk to the corridor on the other side of the room. Cicero stared at Tripp. Did the Wrath just give him permission to break the fifth tenet? No, no. That couldn't be what that meant. Besides, Cicero wouldn't kill a fellow Dark Brother without being directly ordered to... no matter how tempting.

     Once the hulking avatar was out of sight, Tripp leaned across the table and lowered his voice, "How are Tripp's siblings?"

     "Huh?" his voice snapped Cicero's mind back to the present.

     "Krow and the orcish one? How are they?"

     "Fine! Fine. They... seem to be getting on track now that they've completed their own contracts. Focus is always a factor, but I think that's why Wrath chose me to train them-"

     "We don't train," Tripp's voice was serious.

     "...then what has Wrath been teaching you the last few months?"

     "This one is not sure if it is safe to explain here. There are many eyes and ears about."

     Cicero suddenly began to feel anxious. Was Tripp suggesting that something was going on behind his back? He was the Knower. It was literally his job to know things.

     He frowned, "Why haven't I been informed of this? Does Mother know-?"

     "Does Mother know what?" her voice called from the landing above.

     Tripp quickly finished his drink and smiled at her, "Dearest Mother! Tripp was giving the Knower some advice for his love life."

     "No, you were not," she said in a deep tone and began descending the steps. She was dressed in a long black robe decorated with intricate adornments. Cicero recognized the iconic attire as the official robes of the Black Hand. "Don't you have training today?"

     "Yes! Of course, Mother," Tripp bowed to her and glanced over at Cicero, "Pay attention to your dreams, friend. He's trying to help." He then turned and quickly left the room to avoid confrontation.

     Mother approached the table and crossed her arms. Her expression was colder than usual.

     "You look lovely, Mother," he smiled warmly. She did not return the love.

     "Don't listen to that drunk," she growled, "I told you to keep your head about you. Don't think that I was not informed of what happened in Whiterun. This is the second time you've let that woman's existence distract you from your objective. You are blatantly disobeying my orders."

     Cicero began to stand to explain.

     "Sit!" she demanded, "As the Night Mother and your matron, you will not disrespect me with this foolishness."

     He sank down in the chair, his eyes drifting away in shame.

     "You will look at me when I'm speaking to you, child!" she said raising her voice.

     Cicero immediately looked up into her eyes, "Yes, Mother."

     "I will NOT have you destroy the Uprising with your pitiful mortal emotions, is that clear?"

     "Yes, Mother."

     "There's more to a man than his urge to mate and if I have to castrate you to prove it, I will!"

     Cicero clenched his jaw but didn't lose eye contact, "Yes, Mother."

     "One more instance of insubordination and I'll have your soul consumed."

     "...Yes... Yes, Mother!"

     She took a deep breath to calm her nerves. Perhaps it was Zukira's essence holding her back again. No other subordinate ever got such leniency. But, if she didn't scare him into place now, then it would soon be out of her hands. The Dread Father would have the last say. 

     Cicero was a good soldier, but since the Listener left, Mother had noticed his focus getting even worse. She knew firsthand the difficulty of sacrificing a child so she feared Cicero's retaliation once he learned of the 'deal'. Keeping him emotionally detached and focused on the Uprising was crucial. There were enough secrets in the Dark Brotherhood that the Knower had sworn to protect. But even more, she had sworn to protect him from.

     Cicero sat silently listening to Mother's footsteps fade from the hall. He turned back to the table and glanced down at his empty cup. He felt so lost. Nothing made sense anymore. His heart was telling him two different things and now paranoia was beginning to build. What was Tripp saying about the training? Is that why Cicero had not seen much of the other Ancient Blood children? Were Krow and Rage in the dark about all of this as well? And his dreams; what did Tripp mean by, 'He's trying to help'? Who's he...?

     "Cicero..." a tiny voice interrupted his thoughts. He glanced over his shoulder to see Ruby standing at the foot of the stairs. She had something in her arms. Just seeing her made him want to cry again. Damn emotions. Tripp was right, though. Feeling things did not make him weak. Ruby, the most sensitive person he knew, was stronger than anyone he'd ever met. Even after all that had happened, she kept a subtle smile.

     "...Hey," Cicero managed to muster.

     Once acknowledged, Ruby timidly began to shuffle over. As she approached, Cicero could see what she was cradling. It was a rag doll. She paused before him and slowly lifted the doll as if it were a real baby.

     "Little one," she said softly, offering it to him.

     He carefully took it from her and stared at it. It was dressed in a jester motley quite similar to the one he used to wear. In fact, the fabric was suspiciously familiar. The little doll had orange yarn for hair, bright blue eyes, and little pointy ears like a snow elf. Ruby took a small step back and fidgeted nervously as she watched him.

     Cicero knew she could feel his unstable emotions, but he just couldn't hold back. Clutching the doll against his chest, he leaned forward and closed his eyes tightly. He appeared as if he was in severe pain. Ruby trembled as she watched him rapidly breaking down. The emotionally exhausted man squeaked and gasped quietly, choking on his despair. As he rocked back and forth, tears began to pour down his face. His catharsis was quiet yet visibly agonizing.

     Just like before when his insanity finally broke, Ruby carefully reached out to pull her friend close and held him against her chest. His internal torment had once again reached its breaking point. For the empathic elf, it was overwhelming and almost unbearable. As if a triggered response, she inexplicably began to absorb the chaotic emotions, nullifying them. Cicero inhaled as his anxiety slowly subsided and his mind calmed to a peaceful clarity. He unclenched his teeth hoping that no one else had seen him falling apart. 

     Still gripping the rag doll, Cicero ran his fingers over the fabric as his thoughts began to reorganize. His conversation with Tripp replayed in his mind and suddenly the 'right words' came into focus. He knew what he needed to do.

Chapter Text

    Jade was suddenly ripped from sleep by the sound of glass breaking downstairs. On reflex, she attempted to roll over and grab her dagger from the nightstand beside the bed but was stopped short by her round stomach. Being eight months along, she was rapidly finding limitations to her mobility. She groaned quietly and pulled herself up to retrieve the weapon and lightly placed her feet on the floor. She sat for a moment listening. Someone was coming up the stairs.

     Jade was beginning to regret sending Lydia away a few weeks prior. Being stubborn about not wanting help, she told the housecarl to head back to Dragonsreach until called upon. Though, a home intruder was not the first thing on Jade's mind when she made that decision.

     She slowly leaned forward and got to her feet trying not to creak the floorboards. The intruder was not being very subtle about their approach. Jade gripped the blade hilt tightly as a figure appeared in the bedroom doorway. She clenched her teeth, "I'm both surprised and not surprised that it's you..."

     "Oh," Cicero leaned on the door frame to hold his balance, "You're awake."

     "You're drunk."

     "And you're beautiful." He noticed the dagger in her hand and carefully drew his. Her eyes widened and she held her blade up defensively. Cicero quickly knelt and placed his on the floor. He slowly rose again with his hands up, "I'm not dangerous."

     "Like Oblivion, you're not," she scoffed.

     Cicero lightly kicked the blade toward her, almost losing his balance in the process. He wobbled a bit drunkenly. "I came to talk to you."

     "You have a lot of nerve..."

     "I do. Too many, in fact. I'm quite sensitive, so please be gentle," he smiled and took a few steps closer still holding his hands up where she could see them.

     "Don't think I won't cut you..." Jade backed up while pointing her blade at him; the backs of her legs meeting the foot of the bed.

     "Jade..." Cicero lowered his hands a little as he slowed his approach, "I've been thinking this over for months... It wasn't just a random impulse to come here-"

     "Was drinking yourself stupid part of that plan?"

     "Sort of... not really... Liquid confidence does have its perks," he chuckled, though it sounded a bit forced, "Please... just let me say what I need to say."

     Cicero took one more step and reached his hand out to her. Jade slashed the dagger across his abdomen tearing through his leather armor. He flinched and grabbed her wrist to prevent a follow-up attack. Jade cried out in anger and tried to punch him in the chest with her left hand. Cicero grabbed her other wrist and desperately tried to subdue her as gently as possible.

     "I won't fight you," he said as he leaned to push her back onto the bed.

     "Then what do you call this!?" Jade kicked as he pinned her down, "Get off of me, you psycho!"

     The cut on his abdomen began to burn but he remained focused, "If I don't say this now, I may never get another chance and I will never know what happens!"

     Jade stopped resisting when she saw the distressed look on his face. The last time she had seen him so upset was when the Night Mother's corpse was deteriorating. It was an expression of mourning.

     "Please," he whispered, "Just let me explain... I can't stop thinking about you. Since the moment we met, my entire existence has been upended and it's only gotten more intense. I may have gotten my sanity back- but believe me when I say that I am... I'm in lov-" Cicero opened his eyes just as a blue glow flooded the room. Before he could react, he was pulled violently from the bed.

     The spectre of former Speaker Lucien dragged him backward into a fierce chokehold, his grip rapidly increasing. Cicero tried to yelp but couldn't even take a breath. How could a spectral being use such force!?

     Jade sat up, "Lucien! Stop it! Let him go!"

     "My priority is your safety, my Listener," Lucien said in an eerily calm tone amidst the struggle.

     "I order you to release him!" Jade slid off the bed to her feet.

     "My orders are from the Dread Father."

     "I don't care!" Jade's voice was shaky, "Release him and leave! I don't want you here!"

     Lucien stared at her as if questioning his next move. He ultimately released his grip on Cicero and stepped back, "I will do as you request, but I will not hesitate to drag the Knower's soul to the Void if he attempts to lay harm upon you."

     Cicero quickly staggered away and rubbed his neck while gaping at the glowing apparition.

     "Knower...? Whatever," Jade growled, "I don't want you in or near my bedroom again unless summoned. Do you understand?"

     "Yes, my lady," Lucien bowed slightly before turning to Cicero as his ghostly light faded and the room was once again dipped in shadow.

     "Wow..." Cicero wobbled a little, "Was that really ol 'Lucy?"

     Jade sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. She noticed the blood dripping down his torso from where she had cut him.

     Cicero chuckled, "Talk about a ghost from the past. I was wondering what happened to him. He's still looking good for a bicentennial." He rubbed his throat again and knelt in front of Jade.

     She lifted her eyes to meet his. He still had that dopey grin but she could see some serious pain behind his eyes. Not physical pain; He was always quite good at dealing with that sort of thing with nary a complaint. His eyes were full of heartbreak and desperation, and she knew she was to blame.

     "I brought you something," he said placing his hand on her knee and reaching into his belt pouch with the other. He pulled out the silver necklace with embedded gemstones he had confiscated from Krow a few months back, "Sapphires... and I think the green ones are jade."

     Jade stared at his hand on her knee for a moment before reluctantly taking the offering, "Why?"

     "Why, what? It's a gift."

     "No, why are you here? Why do you keep trying to find me?"

     "Well... as I was about to say before," Cicero held that forced smile, "I love you... I'm madly in love with you." 

     Jade closed her hand around the necklace and looked away. Lies. He obviously wanted something from her. The child. Jade was just a temporary hindrance. He was probably ordered to convince her to just give up the baby for the sacrifice.

     "I refuse to believe that," she replied flatly, "The Night Mother sent you."

     "Quite the contrary. Just ask Lucien. If she knew I was here, she'd have me castrated," he laughed nervously before his smile faded. "I'm serious," he said in a sober tone, "She's ordered me to stay away from you."

     Jade glanced back at him. That made no sense... he had to be lying. Or was he not aware? How could he not know about the sacrifice to Sithis? Perhaps he was too much of a liability. Maybe he really meant what he said... but if she told him now it would break him. The fear in his eyes as he stared longingly at her was enough to convince her to avoid the topic for now. She never agreed to hand the child over to the Dark Brotherhood. There still had to be a way out of this...

     "No man could love me," she examined the necklace in her hand.

     "Are you kidding!? Every man falls in love with you at first sight."

     "You didn't."

     "That's debatable," he smiled sheepishly.

     "Men want me. They don't love me."

     "I do."

     "You said that. And I still don't believe that you know what you're talking about. You're drunk. Do you know how many drunk men have confessed their love to me?" she groaned.

     "When was the last time someone told you that?"

     Jade scowled, "That's a rude question. Look at me!" she gestured to her stomach, "You were right! I AM a horker! No man will touch me!"

     Cicero suddenly lifted and took her face into his hands and kissed her square on the lips. Jade tensed up in shock. 

     He pulled back and looked her in the eyes, "They are fools. All of them."

     Jade felt her cheeks growing warm. There had to be some ulterior motive behind this. She'd never known a man to want anything from her besides sex. Without her perfect body, she felt useless. She could smell the alcohol on his breath. He just wasn't thinking straight.

     "What was that for?" she asked timidly, "Why are you doing this?"

     "Doing what? Falling for you all over again?"

     "Stop patronizing me," she frowned and stood up, "I have nothing to offer you."

     Cicero stood also, "You have more to offer than just your body," he cautiously reached out to touch her arm, "Besides... I think you are more beautiful now than you've ever been."

     Jade scoffed and placed her hands on his chest to shove him away but paused. Oooh. It was quite dark in the room and she'd forgotten how he'd buffed up since she'd left the Brotherhood. Distracted, she ran her fingers down the outline of his chest muscles defined by the armor.

     He continued, "I said it before, motherhood is a form of divinity that no man could ever dream to achieve. It's a beauty all its own."

     His words... how was this the same silly little man she'd met dressed in that filthy jester outfit dancing on the side of the road? Jade never knew how much she loved being romanced. The men she ritualistically bedded were usually crass and straight to the point... or missed the point entirely. But that only made it easier to walk away in the morning with no strings attached. 

     Cicero cautiously placed his hands on her hips and pulled her gently against him, "I may be drunk but I've got my head on straight. I've been working on being a better man. I want you to trust me again... I want you to come back to the sanctuary-"

     Jade suddenly pulled back with a jarred look on her face.

     Cicero wrinkled his brow, "What's wrong?"

     "Y-you have to leave," she stammered, and reached down to remove his hands from her, "Please... just stay away from me."

     "What did I say?" Cicero was bewildered, "I'm trying to do better. Just tell me what you need-"

     "I need you to leave." Jade took a step back seeing the sparkling in his eyes. It was better this way. There was no way she could go back there. She couldn't tell him the truth. She couldn't tell him that the Family he had trusted his entire life was going to take away his only child the moment it was born; That he'd have to be an accomplice to the sacrifice. Jade knew he couldn't handle it. She couldn't handle it.

     "Njadya," Cicero held his hand out to her, "Give me a chance to make things right. I'm begging you."

     Jade turned to grab her dagger from the bed. Cicero lunged forward and knocked the blade from her hand before she could react. He kicked it across the floor and looked back in confusion. "...and they say I'm unpredictable..." he muttered.

     "You want to do what's right for me, then just leave," she said tiredly, "I don't want to talk anymore..."

     Stubbornly, Cicero stepped forward and pulled her into his arms again with a sudden burst of drunken confidence, or perhaps desperation, "Let me stay 'til morning..."

     Jade was unable to reply. She felt weak.

    Cicero pressed his forehead against hers. "I'm too drunk to walk to the inn on my own and I think I killed a guard near the gate on the way here..." he mumbled.

     "What!?"

     "It wasn't Urf, I promise," he chuckled and pressed his lips to the bridge of her nose.

     Jade ran her fingers down his arm and placed her hand in his. She folded her fingers between his and squeezed lightly while lost in thought. She just wanted to protect him from the truth... but that in itself meant she cared. Jade had broken so many hearts in her life and never looked back, but for some reason, it hurt her to see the damage she'd inflicted on Cicero... and yet he persisted. He kept coming back... and perhaps she kind of liked that he did. 

    Jade took a deep breath as a signal of defeat and tightened her grasp on his hand. "Just until dawn," she said softly before turning and leading him to the bed. Perhaps it'd be easier to avoid conversation if he was able to just pass out.

     Cicero followed her lead and climbed into bed beside her, mindful not to say or do anything to change her mind. He cuddled up close and after some ridged hesitation, Jade begrudgingly turned to accept his affection, though it was clear that she wasn't willing to reciprocate. She just wasn't a cuddler and simply lying down in her state wasn't comfortable. Cicero was silently elated to finally hold her close. Just touching her again was like a dream... but he knew this time it was real.

     Jade exhaled through her nose, "Don't take this wrong," she whispered, "But you smell like a sewer skeever that choked on old cheese and drowned in a vat of mead."

     Cicero giggled.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

     Urf sighed as he dragged the tip of the Ebony Blade through the dirt at his feet drawing a sad face. He had been sitting on the front porch of Breezehome for five hours and was growing increasingly bored as the night dragged on. Jade had requested that he stand watch for 'any suspicious activity'. Apparently, she had a break-in the other night and was feeling vulnerable. It was Urf's duty as a newly appointed Whiterun guard to be of assistance.

     After taking that arrow in the knee a few months before, Urf could finally walk again without pain but would never be able to return to adventuring. What a random act of senseless violence. He never found the culprit who shot him, but the whole thing seemed to be what started the riot and widespread panic at the South Wind's Prayer event.

     "You look sad, friend," a voice purred from nearby.

     He lifted his head to see a Khajiit standing only a few feet away. 

     Surprised he'd not heard the soft-footed stranger approach, Urf scrambled to get his helmet on, "Halt!" he barked as he struggled to get to his feet, "No Khajiit within the city limits!"

     "Oh, but Tripp is merely concerned for the sad guard and would like to offer a drink!"

     "Begone, tresspasser! You know the rules!"

     "This one does not know any rules against sharing a cold beverage and a warm heart under the stars. The pride of the former adventurer is broken, yes? Perhaps Tripp can help."

     "What would a cat know about a man's problems?" Urf grunted and pointed the Ebony Blade at him. Tripp took a small step back while staring curiously at the weapon. He recognized it from the books that he had read.

     "The drink of kings does not discriminate," he said puckering his whiskers a bit.

     "Drink of kings?" Urf lowered his blade, "What are you on about?"

     "Ah, you have not heard? It has the power to cure all that ails and bring out one's deepest potential."

     "I'm listening..."

     "Tripp only shares his private stash with those who have the most damaged of hearts. What is this guard's deepest passion?"

     Urf blinked a few times, "I don't like riddles, cat. Your backwater booze does not intrigue me. Now exit the city limits before I have you arrested for trespassing!"

     "Fair enough, my melancholy acquaintance. But if this humble Khajiit may insist..." Tripp took a step forward while reaching into the pocket of his robe. Urf lifted the blade again slightly and watched as he pulled out a small blue flask that resembled a skooma bottle and set it on the ground.

     "Is that contraband?" Urf gasped in shock.

     "It's merely an offering. This one sees fire in your heart. This is a gift. May you find your adventurous spirit once again..." Tripp bowed deeply and turned to make his way toward the front gates. The guards stationed there seemed surprised that he had somehow slipped through undetected but allowed him to exit without fuss.

     Urf removed his helmet and stared down at the mysterious bottle. He poked it with the tip of the blade suspiciously. After glancing around to make sure no one was looking, he knelt to retrieve it. His knee popped causing him to groan in pain. Quickly scooping up the bottle, he shuffled back to the porch and sat down.

     The bottle alone didn't seem threatening. Urf popped the cork and sniffed it. Oddly, it had no scent at all. He looked around once more before taking a breath and taking a small sip. It had a sweet taste but didn't have any hint of alcohol to it. He frowned and glanced back at the container again.

     "Stupid lying gypsy cat..." he mumbled- and promptly passed out cold on the step.

     "Wow," Quen shook her head as she came around the side of the house, "What an idiot. Who just trusts a random stranger and imbibes an unknown potion like that?"

     Meegs stepped up behind her and curled his lip, "It's a valid misjudgment..."

     Quen glanced back at him with a disappointed frown as she pulled her hood up. Meegs avoided eye contact as he silently moved around her to begin dragging the guard's body into the bushes.

     "Wrath said that there might be one more inside," Quen cracked her knuckles, "A female housecarl. Though, when he staked the place out, he noticed that she has been spending less time here."

     "I'll take care of her," Meegs dusted off his claws and stepped up to the door.

~

     Jade blew out the candle beside her bed and pulled her covers up. It was almost spring but she felt particularly cold that night. The air itself felt heavy. She stared at the wall in the dark while lost in thought.

     Why did Cicero leave so abruptly the other night? She had woken up the next morning and he was gone. If it wasn't for the broken window downstairs... it was like he was never even there. Was it all a ruse after all? He begged her to let him stay and confessed his misplaced love for her. It was sloppy and drunk like most of the men in her life. But he still left... like all the others. He probably sobered up and wondered what in Oblivion he was thinking and took off with not so much as a goodbye.

     Jade groaned and buried her face in her pillow. Why did she care anyway? She had nothing to offer him but more heartache. She'd done enough damage to that poor man. Even if his claim of love for her were true... she could never love him back. It was for the best if he stayed away. Besides, Cicero might inadvertently lead the Dark Brotherhood right to her doorstep...

     Jade could go into labor at any time and even though she never wanted the child to begin with... she was starting to not hate the idea of having it. Being a mother would make her extremely vulnerable. She'd have someone she'd have to protect and that was a scary thought. Jade didn't know how to care for anyone but herself and she wasn't even good at that. ...But Cicero was. He lived to serve and defend the ones he cared for the most. He'd... be a great father.

     Yikes. Jade never thought that would ever cross her mind. She recalled mocking him when the unlikely concept first came up...

     'If you could even FIND a female desperate enough to marry you and foolish enough to bear your offspring, you'd be a horrible father! Look at you! You're a middle-aged man in a clown outfit who oils a corpse for a living! You're a walking joke!'

     Who's laughing now? The karma was bittersweet. Jade ran her hand over her stomach. The baby suddenly began to move around restlessly.

     "Not now, please," she groaned, "I'm so tired..."

     "I'm sorry," a woman's voice startled her, "Should I come back at a better time?"

     Jade automatically reached for the Blade of Woe on the nightstand- it was gone. She glanced back just in time to see a large Altmer woman lunge at her from the foot of the bed. Reacting on impulse, Jade kicked her leg out, knocking the elf in the face before managing to roll out of the way. She caught herself with her hands before hitting the floor. The intruder landed on the bed, cracking the frame and grunting in anger. Jade quickly got to her feet and scrambled for her weapon collection on the opposite wall but was instantly blocked by a rather tall Argonian.

     "Madam Dragonborn," he said in a snide tone. Jade remembered that voice. It was Meegs. They found her. The Dark Brotherhood actually came for the child.

     Meegs grabbed for her but missed as she took advantage of their major height difference to duck under his arm and make a B-line for the stairs.

     "Lydia!!" Jade called, stumbling in the dark. With the lack of reply, Jade knew that they had taken her down already. How many were there? What were they trying to do? Were they going to kidnap her and take her back to the Sanctuary? Or did they want to just cut the child from her and leave her to die?

     The front door was slightly open. She pushed through it and staggered out into the street looking for Urf. That damned idiot! How could he have let this happen!? Cicero would NEVER have allowed anyone pass without one hell of a fight... Cicero. He could protect her. It was time to suck it up and accept the fact that she was powerless and needed help. If not for herself... at least for the child. But how could she get to him if he was in the middle of the lions' den?

     Inexplicably, the air around her rapidly grew heavy and it felt as if time was slowing down. She struggled to turn her head to see that tall strange Daedra again in the shadows across the street. He stepped forward slowly; his unique glowing red eyes locked on her.

     "You have something of mine..." he said in a gravelly tone.

     "Don't..." was all Jade could muster. The air was so thick that she felt like she was wading through sand. Every movement took extreme effort and she could feel her stamina draining.

     Wrath smirked as he lumbered closer, "Where do you think you can hide, little Dragonborn?"

     Jade used every ounce of strength she had to try and pull away from him but found herself frozen in time. Wrath reached out, uninhibited by the effect in which he controlled, and placed his hand on her head in a patronizing manner.

     "You're nothing special," he continued, "You are just a pawn; merely a vessel... and your time is up."

     Jade tried to scream but nothing came. She couldn't even blink. Suddenly, a slight red shimmer flashed in her peripheral followed by a sharp wisp of air and a wet thump. The time spell slowly began to release and Jade was able to look down to see Wrath's right forearm lying on the ground; thick black blood poured from the stump. The disgruntled daedra glanced down at his dismembered appendage and scowled.

     "...Seriously."

     "Step away from the damsel, you horrid beast!" Urf yelled holding the Ebony Blade awkwardly.

     "How are you alive!?" Wrath roared, "Tripp was supposed to-" he paused and glanced away as if looking for him. His eyes glowed with rage.

     "Run," Urf nodded to Jade. She didn't hesitate and instantly took off toward the front gate. The stationed guards seemed bewildered but quickly realized that something was very wrong. They unsheathed their swords and began to make their way to the scene unfolding.

     Wrath growled and held his remaining hand up to Urf, "I don't have time for this nonsense." A surge of dark energy burst from his palm sending the loyal dunce hurdling into the side of the house.

     Meegs and Quen cautiously exited the front door looking uneasy. They had let their guard down assuming that Jade was just a helpless pregnant woman. But to their surprise, even being on the verge of giving birth, she could still move with surprising agility.

     Meegs hesitated a moment before he began to give chase.

     "Don't bother," Wrath called to him, "She doesn't have anywhere to go. Take out the witnesses," he gestured to the approaching guards and turned to Quen, "Find Tripp. He's got some explaining to do."

Chapter Text

    Cicero closed his left eye, raising his bow to aim at the target at the end of the room. He exhaled lightly and released the string; the ebony arrow effortlessly hitting the bullseye. He lowered the bow and frowned staring at the target for a long moment before lumbering over and yanking the arrow out. 

     Not very satisfying. Cicero turned and paced around the room a bit looking around restlessly before his eyes settled on a mounted scroll of the 'Five Tenets' at the end of the hall. With almost no hesitation, he nocked the arrow, drew the string, and shot. It hit perfectly in the middle of the faded handprint.

     Krow stepped around the corner of the hall and glanced at the arrow, "I think you missed the target, man... by a LOT."

     "No training today," Cicero placed his bow on the rack by the wall, "I can't focus..."

     "Welcome to my world," Krow mumbled. He walked over holding something wrapped in a fox pelt, "This came for you."

     "Came for me...?"

     "Yeah. Some courier guy was running around Dawnstar looking for you. 'Cicero's hands only'," he shrugged and gave it to him.

     "My hands only? Then why'd he give it to you?"

     "Oh, I killed him so I could bring it to you myself," Krow smiled like he was being helpful.

     Cicero shook his head, "I know it's always tempting but don't kill the messenger, please."

     "Noted."

     Krow rocked on his heels eagerly waiting to see what the strange item was. Cicero removed the twine holding the pelt around the object and folded it back revealing a brand-new dagger.

     "Oh, shit!" Krow bounced to get a better look, "Look how shiny! That thing is sharp, man!"

     "...for easy stabbing," Cicero said thoughtfully under his breath as he realized it was made of Skyforge steel.

     "Can I hold it?"

     He ignored him. There was a piece of parchment rolled around the hilt. Cicero could feel his stomach turning as he removed it and rolled it out with his fingers to read.

     Krow watched, fidgeting impatiently, "What's it say? Read it to me!"

     A long beat of silence passed before Cicero crumpled the paper and took off down the hall with haste. 

     Krow quickly gave chase, "Where we goin'?"

     "You're staying here," Cicero tossed the fox pelt back at him and gripped the handle of his new blade firmly, "Keep your mouth shut about this."

     Krow stumbled as he caught the fur, "About what? ...where did this come from?"

     "Exactly." For once, the boy's short-term memory would be beneficial.

~

     The Windpeak Inn wasn't often busy even as the only inn in a port town like Dawnstar. It remained relatively quiet between major boat shipments when the rowdy regulars were at sea. Locals would frequent the tavern in the early evenings, but overall, the atmosphere of the venue remained rather downbeat.

     Cicero stepped inside taking note of a couple of patrons sitting at the back talking quietly. He scanned the room before heading over to the innkeeper who was wiping down a counter.

     "Good evening," the older Nord smiled, "What can I get for y-"

     "I'm looking for a woman," Cicero replied instantly.

     "Oh... well, we aren't that kind of place-"

     "She checked in here recently."

     "...What did she look like?" the innkeeper sounded suspicious.

     "Navy hair. Very pregnant. Probably gave you attitude," Cicero said as he continued to look around the room.

     "Doesn't ring any bells," he shrugged and continued cleaning up, "I think I'd remember that-" The man paused as the Skyfroge dagger was slammed down on the counter.

     "Listen," Cicero said under his breath, "I don't have the patience for games, friend. You tell me which room she's in or I'll start kicking down every door until I find her."

     The innkeeper stared at Cicero's twitching hand on the hilt of the weapon. He glanced past to see that the other patrons were alerted to the confrontation. Not wanting any trouble, the innkeeper discreetly pointed to the room on the left.

     "Much obliged," Cicero mumbled and proceeded to the room. The tension lingered as he knocked on the door with the tip of the blade.

     "Hey," the innkeeper called to him cautiously, "You're not gonna... do something to that woman, are you...? Cuz I don't think I can just sit back and-"

     Cicero glanced back at him with a cold glare. The man refrained from finishing his threat. A short moment passed before the door pulled open slightly. Jade peeked through.

     "...Are you alone?" she whispered trying to see past him.

     Cicero nodded and pushed the door open causing her to stagger back out of the way. He closed it behind him and locked it. The room was dark.

     "...I... I didn't know where else to go," her voice shook a little, "They found me... in Whiterun. The Brotherhood stormed my house a few weeks ago and I've been trying to stay on the move... but I can't do it anymore. I know it is a risk for me to be here, but I just needed to talk to you..."

     Cicero stood close, yet he refused to look at her. He seemed lost in thought, or perhaps even distracted.

     "I'm relieved you got my note," Jade continued, glancing down at the dagger in his hand, "I couldn't put much information besides the name of the inn just in case someone else read it. Cicero... I don't think you know everything about what's going on."

     His eyes finally lifted to meet her. His passive expression had not changed.

     "I was too afraid to tell you; They're going to sacrifice her," she waited for him to reply, or at the very least, react. 

     Nothing. Not even a twitch in his expression.

     "Did you hear me?" she sounded exasperated, "Your Dark Brotherhood is going to sacrifice the baby..." Tears began to form in her eyes, "Are you listening? Your baby. They are trying to take her from me."

     Cicero seemed emotionless. His eyes drifted down to her stomach. Jade placed her hands over it as if symbolically protecting herself.

     "Your beloved Night Mother gave this order," she continued, her tone shifting from frightened to angry, "The one you've spent your life devoted to. She told me the moment she was resurrected while you were still full of elation. She told me that the baby was promised to Sithis."

     The room felt cold. Jade began to realize that Cicero hadn't said a single word since he had entered. He'd barely even moved. Was he in shock? Maybe... he already knew?

     "I need you," she said, her voice breaking, "I need you to protect me. I can't use the thu'um anymore. I don't know why... Cicero, I have nowhere else to go... I'm... afraid," she cautiously admitted.

     Cicero shifted his grip on the hilt of the dagger and made eye contact again. He was unreadable. His lack of emotion was beginning to frighten her. She timidly reached out to put her arms around him. He didn't hold her back.

     Cicero finally spoke in a flat deepened tone, "I am sworn to honor and uphold the orders of the Night Mother."

     Jade suddenly pulled away; a look of shock on her face, "Wh... what are you saying?"

     His stance loosened up like he was coming back to life, "You still take me for a fool; That I can be distracted by the will of the flesh. Mortality is meaningless if your soul is damned."

     "I don't understand..." Jade took another step back as she noticed his hand flexing on the hilt of the dagger. Something was very wrong.

     "There is nothing to understand. It's all trivial nonsense," Cicero took a step forward. Was he having some sort of existential crisis?  Though his stature was small, his presence felt incredibly intimidating in the cramped dark room. Even when he was in the deepest pits of his own madness, he'd never seemed so threatening to her.

     Jade began breathing fast as she realized she was trapped. She wanted to scream for help but knew that would only set him off and trigger him to attack.

     "Why are you doing this?" she trembled, backing up to the bed, "This... this isn't you."

     Cicero stopped and lowered his shoulders. Jade dropped down onto the bed suddenly and held her breath wincing as she felt an aching pressure in her stomach. He stood over her watching with an apathetic stare as if looking right through her.

     Jade finally took a deep breath and looked back up at him; her face was full of fear. She couldn't speak. Of all the trauma she had survived throughout her life... this was quite possibly the most terrifying. Part of her wanted to just give in and accept that there was no escape. But she knew that she needed to protect this baby from the Brotherhood-... and her father.

     "You said you loved me..." Jade whispered as a last-ditch effort to find the humanity within him. She waited for a response while watching the door in the corner of her eye.

     "No," Cicero replied, his voice strangely calm, "No one could ever love you."

     Jade opened her mouth to reply but felt the aching pressure in her stomach again, stronger this time, causing her to tense up in pain. Cicero watched as if waiting for her to make a move. Several moments passed before Jade was able to breathe normally again.

     "...I-...I think I'm in labor," she said staring him in the eyes, hoping to see a crack in his emotionless state. Still nothing. The silence was deafening.

     Jade suddenly jumped up and shoved him in the chest before running for the door. Cicero staggered back to catch his balance and simply watched her leave. He didn't seem to be in any hurry to stop her.

~

     Outside, Jade leaped down the steps and turned to run up the road out of town. She fought the urge to cry out for help out of fear that she might draw the wrong kind of attention.

     Cicero slowly exited the inn and descended the steps, glancing up the path.

     "Follow her," Mother said quietly. She was leaning on the wall beside the door with her arms crossed. "Bring me the child... and take the bitch down. Be done with it."

Chapter Text

    The old poison berry trick wasn't working. Cicero had ingested two handfuls of mildly toxic berries several hours ago when he realized how drowsy he was getting. He hadn't slept well for weeks and the constant barrage of nightmares wasn't helping what little sleep he did get. The nausea that the berries induced just wasn't doing enough to combat his exhaustion.

     Fortunately, Jade wasn't difficult to track in her state. Cicero had a good idea of where she might be going considering she couldn't return to Whiterun now that the Dark Brotherhood was aware. There was only one other place in Skyrim where Jade felt safe and that was Riften. She likely hitched a ride so there was no point in trying to keep up. 'Borrowing' a mount was his best bet of getting to her before she could find protection. It would be quite unfortunate if she found shelter under the watch of the Thieves Guild, though Cicero was banking on the fact that Jade's pride would not allow her to cower to her family. She was stubborn like that.

     Cicero dismounted his horse along the river just north of Riften. It would be wise not to be seen by the guards. He was still wanted by the Black-Briars after all. He held his stomach and leaned against a tree to dry heave. He had already thrown up the berries a short while ago and there was really nothing left to vomit. The act of retching didn't even help to wake him up. It just made him lightheaded and feel the intense need to lie down. He knelt beside the tree knowing that it would be too dangerous to try to ride any further while so exhausted and tried to rationalize taking a quick nap.

     The sound of sticks breaking sent a jolt of alertness through him. He opened his eyes only to realize that he had indeed passed out for quite some time. His horse was nowhere to be seen and the forest was dipped in darkness. He quickly scrambled to his feet and drew his Skyforge dagger expecting to be ambushed. Instead, he saw a familiar form standing timidly in the shadows.

     "Ruby...?" he lowered his blade. She gasped and dropped to her knees appearing to be in pain. Cicero ran over and knelt beside her.

     "You followed me?" his voice shook with concern, "How did you know where I was? How did yo-" he paused as she trembled, "Are you hurt?"

     "No..." Ruby shook her head and looked past him, "Baby." She lifted her arm to point to the South. Cicero instinctively glanced over to see. Nothing.

     "Where? What are you pointing to?"

     Ruby took a deep breath to collect herself and finally relaxed, "Cicero's baby now," she said calmly, "Jade's pain."

     Somehow, Ruby was feeling Jade's distress. She had to be nearby. Cicero helped her to her feet and took her hand, "Take me to her," he said quietly, "Lead me to Jade..."

     As if the pain she felt had completely passed, Ruby squeezed his hand and pulled him along. Cicero adjusted their path as needed to avoid being seen by any patrolling guards. The woods were incredibly dark at night and even more so the further they got from the city. Ruby stumbled a lot as she tried to navigate with no depth perception from the loss of sight in her right eye. Cicero held her hand firmly in case she started to fall. The sound of early spring rain began rustling the leaves above them.

     As a faint light came into view through the trees, Ruby stopped suddenly and grabbed Cicero's arm with both hands. She flinched in pain and nodded slowly with her eyes tightly closed as if counting. The rain began to pick up.

     "What are you feeling?"

     She didn't reply. After a short time, her face relaxed and she opened her eyes to look up at him like everything was fine again. "Jade," she whispered and pointed toward the warm glow ahead. 

     Cicero had a familiar feeling about this area. Jade coming here to seek safety was both predictable and tragic at the same time. He glanced down at Ruby and put his hands on her shoulders, "Stay here," he said softly, "I'll come back for you."

     Ruby nodded nervously but did as she was told. Cicero turned and began heading toward the light through the trees while scanning the area. As the old cabin came into view, he could see the silhouette of a body lying near the front gate. By the size, it was clearly a man and he wasn't moving. 

     Cicero drew his blade again and crouched low as he approached. The man looked to be a common bandit. It was unclear how he was killed, but the blood trail led through the gate toward the front door.

     Cicero frowned and stepped over the body. The cabin door was slightly open and the light from a weak fire in the hearth spilled through. He stood still and tried to listen for any movement but the sound of the rain made it difficult. Pushing the door open with the tip of the blade, Cicero leaned to peer inside. Jade was sitting on the floor beside the bed with her back to him at the far end of the cabin. He slowly stepped inside, closing the door behind him; the sound causing Jade to gasp in surprise. She stared back at him, looking just as exhausted as he felt.

     "No!" Jade cried out and tried to get to her feet, "Why are you doing this!?" She stumbled a bit, wincing and grabbing her stomach before dropping back to the floor.

     Cicero began walking across the room slowly, gripping the blade at his side. Jade frantically reached for an iron dagger a few feet from where she sat. It had the bandit's blood on it. Cicero lunged forward and kicked it under the bed. She watched it disappear into the shadows, her hand still extended and trembling. Cicero stared down at her passively. She looked him in the eyes as her panicked expression faded to an unsettling acceptance. It was clear that she had been processing the possibility of this outcome.

     "Please," she said calmly, "I know you're going to do what you are going to do. But please... just grant me this request. Just let me have this baby before you kill me..."

     Cicero's eye twitched slightly.

     "As much joy as it may bring you to cut her from my body and leave me to die... Please just let me see her first. I won't fight you. I know I won't win."

     Cicero clenched his teeth and began breathing erratically through his nose. His dagger dropped from his grip and he held his hands out to her, palms up. Jade didn't react. She continued to stare intensely into his eyes trying to read him. He waited a moment longer before removing his gloves and extending his hands out again.

     "I said that I'd never hurt you," he said breaking the long frightening silence, "I am sworn to protect you forever and always and I will never break that promise." Cicero wiggled his fingers. Jade cautiously reached out and placed her hands in his so he could help her to her feet.

     "I... don't understand," she said under her breath, "Why did you say those things at the inn?"

     Cicero helped her over to the bed, "Mother was watching. She followed me out of the sanctuary. If I had turned back, she might have sent one of the Ancient Blood... or gone after you herself."

     Jade laid back trying to calm her nerves. Cicero's tone was reassuring, but the emotional charge of her panic was slow to subside. She stared at the dark ceiling while rubbing her hand down her side praying for relief. "I almost didn't make it here..." she whispered, "So much pain... I'm so tired. I'm so- I don't think I can do this..."

     Cicero didn't have any words of wisdom. He'd never dealt with this sort of thing before. He barely knew how to handle an emotional female let alone what to expect from one in labor. He only understood what he learned from books and witnessing a stray dog birth a litter when he was a child... but never a person. Never a person he cared so deeply for.

     Jade's uncertain eyes drifted to him, sparkling in the faint light from the fireplace, "I never told you about my mother..." her voice was quaking.

     "You never told me much about yourself at all," he replied, willing to humor her if it meant distraction from the pending predicament.

     "I never met her."

     Cicero began to feel ill again. Maybe it was the revenge of the poison berries, but it felt more like a nausea of dread. "Why?" he asked weakly already making a connection.

     "She died giving birth to me," Jade looked back up at the ceiling, "Bled out. My father always told me how much pain I caused her... and him. He had to-" She paused.

     "...had to what?"

     "There were complications. He had to cut me out of her. He never forgave me for that..."

     "That's not going to happen to you," Cicero tried to sound reassuring, "Don't move." He suddenly turned and ran to the door.

     "Yeah, sure. No problem," Jade grunted as she tried to manage her discomfort.

     Moments later, he reentered with Ruby at his side. Recovering from the last contraction, Jade exhaled slowly and watched them approach.

     "You brought Ruby...?"

     "She followed me," Cicero took a lit candle from the nightstand and handed it to Ruby, "She knew you needed her. Apparently, empathy is an efficient tracker."

     "What's that supposed to mean?" She watched the small elf girl as she went into midwife mode and began collecting cloth and other soft materials from around the room.

     Cicero knelt beside the bed and took Jade's hand. He tried to smile but it was very obvious how uncomfortable he was, "It's going to be okay."

Chapter Text

     Every bone in Cicero's hand felt broken. He tried his best not to complain out of fear of upsetting Jade even more, but it had been several hours of this and he was beginning to worry that he'd never be able to hold a dagger again. Her vice-like grip loosened as the pain passed and he cautiously freed himself while he had the chance.

     Her contractions were coming closer and closer together, but with the sound of her groaning and Ruby's strange silence, it didn't seem like anything was even happening.

     "I can't do this," Jade panted trying to catch her breath.

     "I'm obviously no expert," Cicero began, "But I don't think you can just quit-"

     "Shut up!" she snapped at him, "Don't try to lecture me! You have no idea how hard this is!"

     Cicero rubbed his hand, "Well, what do you want me to do?"

     "Ehh! Just get this kid outta me!"

     "Ha... well, it was a lot easier and a lot more fun putting it in than-"

     Jade released a yell that reminded him of his place. He flinched and leaned away. Jokes were his go-to in uncomfortable situations... and he was very uncomfortable right now.

     Cicero scooched away from the edge of the bed, just enough to be out of her reach, "Ok, I get it. You need some space. I'll give a wide berth- ..."

     Jade cut a very serious expression at him, "Did you just-"

     Cicero lifted his hands in surrender, "I'm just giving you some womb to breathe-"

     "Was that... a dad joke?" she growled.

     "It's only a dad joke when it becomes apparent-" Cicero tried desperately to contain himself.

     "I will murder you," Jade reached for him, clawing the air futilely.

      Her half-hearted attack was interrupted by Ruby placing her hands on her knees. The little elf tried to smile warmly but the pain she shared was beginning to show on her face.

     "Jade is good, okay?" she said gently, "Baby is close and good."

     "See?" Cicero tried to recover, "Everything's okay... Ruby would know. She's delivered dozens of babies. Right, snow truffle?"

     Ruby's smile grew as she thought about all of the children she helped bring into the world. She nodded joyfully.

     "My mother..." Jade exhaled slowly, "As I was told, wasn't a very big woman. But my father was- well, you remember his brother. Dear Uncle Gogvir... that mammoth of a Nord."

     Cicero slid back over to the bed, "You're not your mother... and I'm only going to admit this here and this never leaves this cabin- but if you haven't yet noticed, I'm not a very large man. So it's safe to conclude that our child isn't-"

     Jade clenched her teeth suddenly and interrupted him with an intense groan of discomfort as she bared down to push, "BUT YOU HAVE A STUPIDLY BIG HEAD!" she roared.

     "...well, that's debatable," Cicero mumbled feeling quite offended. He was just trying to help.

     "Baby!" Ruby cheered and began grabbing pieces of cloth and ripped sheets she had gathered. Cicero was suddenly struck with an insatiable urge to see what was happening. With his curiosity piqued, he began to stand but was quickly blocked by Jade's arm slamming against his chest.

     "Don't you even THINK about going down there! I will END YOU," she hissed sharply, digging her fingers into him. 

     "Yes, ma'am," Cicero slowly sat back down on the floor and watched Ruby's expression trying to imagine what she was seeing. She looked focused and excited.

     The contractions seemed constant now. Jade released Cicero and gripped onto the bed frame trying to catch her breath. Cicero was at a loss. He wanted to say something... do something... see something! He felt restless and utterly useless. No matter the situation, he was always one to jump to assist. But there was literally nothing he could do but sit and wait uncomfortably. 

     Jade gasped and leaned forward, holding her breath as she bared down through a push. This was taking forever. What, was it stuck? Can it get stuck? Cicero drummed his fingers on his knees still watching Ruby work. She had a serious expression which was not common for her sweet face. She was... doing something. But what!? Oh, not knowing was killing him! That's right! He was the Knower after all! He should always keep himself well-informed on EVERYTHING! Even things not directly related to the Dark Brotherhood. That's what makes a man wise. Always being curious. Always learning new things... taking chances.

     Cicero's eyes drifted back to Jade's face. It was bright red and covered in sweat. Her hair was a mess, clinging to her forehead. All of the grunting and groaning had stopped as she attempted to pace herself through the pushing as instructed by Ruby's hand gestures to start, stop, and breathe.

     "Oh! Oh!" Ruby's face lit up with excitement. She lifted her eyes to Cicero looking like she was going to burst into tears of joy.

     That's it! He had to see. Life was too short not to witness... life. Cicero suddenly jumped up and stepped away from the bed so Jade couldn't reach him. He stepped around the foot of the bed to look-

     Oh. Oh, gods...

     "...it's like staring into the gates of Oblivion," he mumbled in awe, his eyes wide with wonder and quite possibly terror. Jade roared and lifted her leg, kicking him square in the face as hard as she could.

~

     "Cicero," Ruby's gentle voice called to him, "Say hello."

     Cicero opened his eyes to see her leaning over him and wiping his face with a damp cloth. His head throbbed as he tried to remember what had happened. He sat up slowly and looked around the dark room as it rapidly came back to him. It was very quiet.

     "Cicero is happy daddy!" Ruby nudged his arm and pointed to the bed. Jade was lying quietly with a small bundle cradled against her chest. She appeared to be passed out with exhaustion. Cicero felt an unexpected rush of adrenaline as he slowly got to his feet. Through tunnel vision, he slowly made his way over and knelt beside the bed. Ruby quietly sat beside him smiling.

     "Sweet baby is so sleepy," she whispered but still managed to sound giddy.

     Cicero nervously reached out and pulled down on the bundled blanket with his finger.

     And there she was.

     The tiny infant was sound asleep against her mother's chest. Her hair was a beautiful strawberry blonde as radiant as the sunset. Cicero's eyes welled up with tears. He trembled as it all started hitting him. He was a father. Something he never expected to be.

     Jade shifted and turned to see the tears pouring down his cheeks. His expression was something she'd never seen from a grown man before. His mouth was agape like he wanted to say something but nothing came. It almost seemed like he was expressing fear.

     "Hey," Jade whispered, "I'm sorry about your face... kicking it, I mean."

     His eyes lifted to meet hers just as he began to ugly cry. He wiped his eyes with the palms of his hands and inhaled sharply, "Njadya... you're a mom..." the poor fool managed to squeak.

     Jade tried her best not to roll her eyes, "You can hold her," she moved her shoulder gently and lifted the baby trying not to disturb her, "Go slow. She's had a long day... being born and all."

     Cicero quickly brushed his hands on his thighs before timidly reaching out. Every fiber in his body tensed up and was on high alert. His shoulders stiffened out of fear of dropping her.

     Ruby beamed like it was her own baby, "She is pretty just like Cicero."

     Jade scoffed but quickly collected herself so as not to ruin the moment. She watched as he took the infant into his arms and stared down at her with a dumbfounded look on his face. Ruby leaned in to help and make sure he was holding her right.

     The baby made a tiny moan and shifted around in reaction to the movement. She opened her eyes and looked up at her father for the very first time. Her irises were the color of the purest of emeralds.

     "Hi..." Cicero mumbled awkwardly as it was still slow to sink in, "Pleasure to meet you. I... don't know what to say," He looked back up at Jade and suddenly exclaimed, "I made this."

     "Yes," she sighed unenthusiastically, "I was there when it happened."

     "She's part of me... I mean- she-"

     "Oh, Gods. He's having an existential crisis," she moaned and rubbed her hands down over her face.

     "How are you not feeling this?" he glanced back down at the baby, "She didn't even exist before... but we did this. You and I. This is... this is a new life-"

     "Cicero's baby," Ruby cheered and reached her finger out to poke the child softly on the cheek.

     "Cicero's... baby," he repeated softly as if reassuring himself.

     Jade scoffed again. She didn't want to admit how absolutely adorable he was acting trying to come to terms with his new parental identity. She was a bit more collected about the matter because she'd had nine months to process and had to remind herself that Cicero didn't have that option. She was the one who took that away from him by leaving. The emotional shifts she went through as her body changed; Being reminded every day that she had this pending responsibility like nothing she'd ever known. The first time she felt the baby move; it all became so real... He missed out on all of it. Because of her.

     "Eris?" Cicero suddenly blurted out, "I want to name her Eris."

     Jade stared at his intense expression, "Why Eris?"

     "It was my mother's name," he replied and looked back down at the baby.

     Jade hesitated before responding. She didn't know anything about Cicero's mother. He'd only mentioned that he hardly remembered her. Yet, it was always apparent that he harbored some serious mother issues, and not just about the Night Mother.

     "Please," he glanced back at her looking like he was about to explode with emotion, "In her honor..."

     "Yeah... yeah. Eris. It's a lovely name," Jade nodded slightly. Who was she to argue? She had never really settled on a name in her mind and, to be fair, wasn't that great at naming anything. Her blue-eye dog named Blue could attest to that. The poor child would likely end up named after her hair color. Besides, this one seemed very important to him.

     The baby fussed a bit as she took in all the strange new colors and sounds for the first time. Cicero choked a little, "She looks like a little tomato." He couldn't stop smiling.

     Jade allowed herself to smile but only for a moment, "I'm very tired," she hummed, "I haven't gotten much sleep since I've been running from a madman while in labor and then pushed his big-headed offspring from my loins. I need rest.... and quiet."

     Cicero ignored her gripe and leaned down, gently pressing his lips on Eris's forehead. He inhaled softly. She smelled like a field of wildflowers like the ones he used to run through as a child. Such precious innocence.

     He lifted his head and grinned at Jade who had already turned away in the bed.

     "I want ten more," he said in a jovial chirp.

     "Noooo," Jade growled and turned back over, "You are -never-  touching me again," she pointed her finger at him and scowled, "Find another woman to defile in a moment of terrible misjudgment." Jade pulled the blanket up over herself and tried to disappear.

     "She doesn't mean that," Cicero whispered to Eris, "Momma says a lot of things she doesn't mean. But deep down she's a soft little tulip just like you..."

     Jade smiled and buried her face in the pillow. What an annoying, strange... wonderful man.

Chapter Text

    The sound of soft singing stirred Jade from sleep. She opened her eyes feeling safe and comfortable for the first time in a very long while. The quiet voice hummed a calming melody beside her. She immediately knew who it was, it just felt... different. He used to sing all the time; impromptu rhymes and psychotic ballads, all of which felt catered to get on her last nerve. But this was something else entirely. Something gentle and soothing.

     "...and I never thought you'd ever be... but here you are, when two makes three. Your father, your guardian, your keeper, your friend. I'll keep you from harm... forever mine to defend..."

     Jade smiled subtly and slowly turned over. Cicero was curled up on the bed beside her cradling the sleeping child close. He continued to hum peacefully as he lifted his gaze to Jade. A proud smile formed on his face as tears glistened in his eyes. 

     Jade exhaled softly through her nose, "Ok..." she whispered, "I'll say it. I was wrong."

     "Is the world ending?" Cicero whispered back, "Jade admitting she was wrong?"

     "I'm serious. I... was wrong not to trust you when all you've ever done was try to protect me... mostly from myself."

     Cicero's smile faded. He stared her in the eyes silently for a long moment, "I don't think I would have fallen for you if you weren't so stubborn," his smirk returned to the corners of his mouth, "I like a good fight."

     "I've hurt you," she continued, "A lot. Emotionally and physically."

     "My face still hurts."

     "And I don't think I can promise that I won't do it again... and again," Jade lifted her hand and stroked Eris's downy hair with her fingertips, "But knowing that you will always protect her... it brings me such relief."

     "I'm taking you to Cyrodiil. All of us. You, Eris, and Ruby," Cicero's voice was low and serious.

     "Cyrodiil?"

     "The goal of the Uprising is to reestablish the Brotherhood's presence across Tamriel and reopen the fallen sanctuaries. I know where and how they are going to operate; and where each of the Ancient Blood will be assigned once training is complete. Going to Cyrodiil gives me the upper hand. I grew up there. I spent a lot of time traveling and I know every city inside and out."

     "Cicero... I don't want to spend my life-" she lightly laid her hand on Eris's cheek, "I don't want us to live in hiding."

     "What other choice is there?"

     "Listen, I know you've spent your life running from the turmoil the Dark Brotherhood has pulled you into," she sighed, "But maybe this time you should fight back."

     Cicero frowned and held Eris closer, "What are you suggesting? That I personally fight the Dark Brotherhood? My Family? Alone?"

     Jade fell silent. Maybe that was what she meant. She knew that asking Cicero to stand up against the family that practically raised him was not something he'd be willing to take on. Upon joining the Dark Brotherhood, Jade could tell that something wasn't right. With Astrid's blatant betrayal and Cicero's psychotic way of dealing with it, it was clear that whatever system they had in place wasn't working. Apparently, this sort of corruption happened regularly within the ranks resulting in purification after purification. No wonder their numbers were dwindling.

     "It wouldn't be their first mutiny," she tried to sound confident, "And you're not alone. You have me. I am the so-called Dragonborn, after all. If we can take out the World-Eater, I'm sure-"

    "This isn't the same thing," he interrupted her, "You're asking me to raise my blade against death itself. I-... I just can't rationalize that. My entire world changed last night. I never used to fear death. In fact, I'd longed for it countless times. I was promised a seat in the house of Sithis... my soul to be sanctified for eternity as a soldier of the Dread Father. But now all I can think about is how I need to protect my child from them."

     "We can build an army."

     "Are you insane?"

     "We can take them down," Jade said boldly, brushing off his ironic retort, "There are not many of them yet. The majority are undertrained initiates, right? We can at least cripple their resources."

     "I don't think you understand how this works-" Cicero suddenly paused and cringed. He held his breath for a long moment before wheezing, "They're here-........"

     "What?" Jade lifted her head seeing his strange reaction, "What do you mean?"

     Cicero flinched and closed his eyes tightly. Something was wrong. Jade sat up and took the baby into her arms as he began to groan.

     "Are you okay? What's the matter?"

     Her voice was muffled in his ears. Cicero grabbed his chest as an eerily familiar cold pressure grew gradually with every beat of his heart. He couldn't breathe.

     Awoken by the noise, Ruby stood from her bed of pelts beside the fireplace and quickly ran over. Jade instinctively handed her the baby and grabbed Cicero's shoulder to push him into his back. He continued to heave and gasp as if he were being choked.

     "What's happening...?" Jade took his face into her hands trying to figure out what was causing him so much pain. "Gods, are you having a heart attack?" she turned to Ruby hoping for some sort of answer. The frightened elf looked just as confused.

     "What is he feeling?" Jade pleaded as the baby began to cry from the commotion.

     "He-... Ruby can't feel Cicero," she replied with fear in her eyes while trying to comfort the baby.

     There was a loud thump against the door. Eris's wailing intensified as the women froze. Cicero suddenly inhaled and began coughing out a strange icy mist. Jade scrambled to climb over him and seized his dagger from the nightstand. Her body still ached from the birth, but her adrenaline quickly overrode the pain.

     The door flew open and a rather large Argonian dressed in shrouded armor stepped inside with his sword drawn. It was Meegs.

     "Make this easier on all of us and just hand me the kid," he said in a gravelly tone, "Less bloodshed. Less time cleaning my armor."

     Jade curled her lip and slashed at him with the dagger trying to push him back outside. He laughed as he blocked her swing with the edge of his blade.

     "Momma dragon's feisty," Meegs lunged forward causing her to stumble back as his sword passed over her arm, ripping the sleeve from her gown.

     Ruby, still holding the frightened child tightly, knelt beside the bed and shook Cicero with her free hand, "Cicero! Please get up!"

     He was moaning and didn't seem to realize what was happening. It was as if someone or something had control of him.

     The sudden clank of Jade's dagger being knocked to the floor caught Ruby's attention.

     Meegs scoffed, "For the legendary Dragonborn, you sure are off your game today. I was hoping for more of a fight. Has motherhood made you soft?"

     Jade had her eyes locked on the sword pointed at her. She inhaled and shouted the first word of a thu'um- but just as she expected, there was no effect. Since discovering her pregnancy, she had noticed that her Dovakiin abilities were no longer accessible; like they never existed. How could a soulborne ability just disappear? Before she learned of her blessing, Jade never fancied herself a warrior, let alone a hero. Men fought for her, not the other way around. Taking on the prophecy of the Dragonborn gave her confidence and strength... and help. She always had others at her side to assist in her mission, and in the end, they held her up as the hero. But now, with all that in the past, her titles stripped and her help helpless... she was just Jade. 

     Her mind froze as she listened to the baby's cries and Cicero's grunts of agony. There was no one here to fight for her. She had to protect herself. She had to protect her family...  Jade quickly turned to retrieve the fallen dagger.

     Ruby's scream of horror filled her ears.

     Jade felt her back hit the wall and time seemed to slow. Pinned and unable to move, she stared down at the sword pressed into her stomach. The blood pouring down her torso was so warm that it almost felt comforting as the distressful sounds of her baby's cries faded. Meegs leaned on the sword pushing it through her. "See you in the Void," he smiled and violently ripped the blade out, "Behold, behold, the Dragonborn falls." Her body dropped to his feet like a rock.

     Cicero cried out from across the room. Meegs glanced over to see him staggering to his feet, a look of absolute terror on his face. It seemed that he was finally regaining control.

     "That's right," Meegs smiled as he flicked the blood from his blade, "Just line up one at a time. Send Father my love when you see him."

     Cicero scooped the dagger off the floor and with no hesitation, slashed it across the Argonian's stomach before ducking around behind him. Startled by such quick movement from a man he figured to be nearly incapacitated, Meegs was slow to react as Cicero jumped up behind him and grabbed the feathers on his head, pulling him backward. Before the lizard could react, the dagger was drawn across the front of his throat, assassination style. Cicero then shoved him forward causing his flailing body to slam into the armoire.

     Ruby trembled upon witnessing such rapid violence, she had completely forgotten to comfort the shrieking child. With her empathy overloaded, she watched in desperation as Cicero dropped to his knees beside Jade's body. His sudden burst of sobbing almost sounded inhuman as he choked and gasped. Just like in the dreams... Jade was lying in a pool of blood before him and there was nothing he could do. He failed to protect her. But this time, he knew he was awake.

     "Oh, give it a rest," a cocky female voice startled him, "Be a man for once in your life."

     Lightheaded, Cicero gripped his dagger and quickly stood to face the new intruder.

     Quen flipped the Blade of Woe around in her hand as she stepped inside to assess the damage. She glanced down at Jade and then Meegs, "Wow. This was unexpected," she frowned, "I didn't think my big brother would fail so quickly. How disappointing."

     "Run," Cicero glanced over at Ruby, "Take Eris and run!"

     "Is that the name you chose?" Quen began closing the gap between them, "Not like it matters at this point."

     "I said run!!" Cicero shouted trying to break Ruby out of her frightened hesitancy. She held the baby tightly against her chest and ran for the door putting all of her trust into Cicero's timing.

     Quen moved to block Ruby's path but was thwarted as she was struck in the shoulder with a dagger sending her staggering out of the way. Cicero had flung the blade so hard that it embedded itself several inches in.

     "By the Eight," Quen gasped in shock, grabbing the hilt to remove it hastily. She quickly glanced back around just in time to see Ruby escape the cabin with the child.

     The wounded Altmer exhaled as she tried to collect her composure through the pain, "There's no coming back from this," she said and boldly tossed the dagger back to him, "You've burned your bridge."

     Cicero took a step back as the blade landed at his feet. While surprised by her gesture, he didn't hesitate to quickly retrieve it. 

     "You've already lost everything," Quen rotated her injured shoulder, "At least fight for your life."

     "Why would she do this to me?" Cicero asked weakly.

     "Who?"

     "The Night Mother. Why would she agree to sacrifice my child... and order me to kill the woman I had sworn to protect and love?" his voice was shaking and strained, "They were not a threat to the Uprising..."

     "Because you are a pawn who must blindly serve the queen without question. The Dark Brotherhood is bigger than you and your frail mortal quandaries."

     Cicero frowned and flipped the dagger around once in his hand, "Well... Lest you forget," he adjusted his grip on the hilt, "You're mortal now, too." 

     Before Quen could reply, he rushed forward, jamming the blade up under her ribcage. Cicero used all his weight to push her back against the wall beside the door. Quen's towering body jolted upon impact, but she didn't make a sound. Her eyes were wide and full of fury as she stared down at the small Imperial man pinning her with incredible force.

     Cicero huffed through his teeth and glowered up at her watching the life drain from her eyes. Her head finally bobbed forward and her gaze drifted.

     Cicero closed his eyes feeling like he was going to be sick as a burning sensation began to grow in his side. He released the dagger to step back as Quen's lifeless body dropped to the floor; her hand still clutching the Blade of Woe as it slid from his body. 

     She'd got him. Deep.

     The room began to feel cold and was rapidly growing dark. Cicero staggered back and placed his hand on the wound as he stared at the dead Altmer in shock. Nothing mattered anymore. Nothing made sense... how could this be happening? Why now? Was he not entitled to one day of happiness without conflict?

     Cicero lifted his hand from his side and looked at the blood. It was as black as the Void. He became lightheaded, stagging back, and suddenly collapsed to the floor beside Jade's body; the last of his strength leaving him instantly. He strained to reach over and pull her into his arms. All he could hope for now was that Ruby had gotten away and the baby was safe.

     "Njadya..." he whispered as he pressed his face into her shoulder, "I'm here..."

Chapter Text

Project Melody: Entry 42

Date: Fridas, 24th of First Seed, 4E 202

Time: Early afternoon, around 13:00

Location: Tower of Mzark (Oculory), The Pale, Skyrim

Danger Level: Null

     I've had some unfortunate setbacks whilst attempting to reach the Oculory again. The surface lift was jammed and not having the proper equipment to access the problem, I was forced to reroute the long way through the underground caverns of Blackreach. Though not the greatest of burdens; I've memorized these dark caves from countless expeditions and studying my father's maps- so that was the least of my problems. Perhaps I've gotten too confident over the decades... or my centurion guardian had some faulty gears. Perhaps both.

     Brutus, my ever-loyal automaton bodyguard, stationed down here as a silent yet powerful escort; Reliable and low maintenance... he had taken quite a few beatings on this delve. Falmer, Giants, electrical traps, and the like... he was overdue for retirement, but I'd grown attached. He made me feel strong. Perhaps I kept him around for nostalgic sake despite his failing parts. His demise was my fault. 

     Admittedly, Brutus's final moments were fantastic to behold: Locked in a swing-for-swing bout against a peer- a twin centurion- an even match! Maybe. The encounter was brief but brutal; upholding his name to the final blow. Now he lies face down at the base of a steep incline. A shame I couldn't salvage his parts. Not in the position he landed. Besides, it was too dangerous to stick around, not that I even had the means to transport his parts to the surface.

     Many years of faithful service, put to rest in the subterranean void. I don't handle loss well... change. I don't like change. He will be missed greatly. I'll have to write him a proper eulogy when I return to Daggerfall.

     Note to self: Centurion 5, alpha model, name- Brutus (equipped with shock shield at the time of final deployment) defeated in Blackreach chamber 12, southwest, just north of the entrance to the Tower of Mzark. Schedule a parts retrieval. Even if scavengers loot his most valuable components, I'd at least like to recover his dynamo core. A memento of his years of loyalty and protection. A valiant soldier. May he rest in... pieces.

     This leaves me in quite a quandary though. Of course, all collected loot he carried on his chassis had to be left behind. All I could carry was my kit bag and the scroll. It was enough, but my time here remains limited without sustenance. At least Brutus was able to escort me this close before his expiration. I'm now safe within the Oculory camp.

     It will take time to recalibrate. The Oculory: this intricate room-sized machine, a mechanism almost beyond comprehension, built by the most brilliant of minds among Dwemer. This room was once used to share coveted and powerful information without uttering a word. The empty seats of the Dwemeri leaders, frozen in time around its base. So much knowledge has flowed through this chamber. Yet now, its use is wasted as it sits abandoned... But here I am, again, attempting to do the unthinkable. Again.

     A literal weight on my shoulders, I've once again hauled The Elder Scroll of Melody here to try and scrape together more of its message. It's an heirloom at this point, a blessed curse. Being in its presence is bittersweet. Excitement of the potential- and resentment of the damage it's already caused. But, seeing as my field lab was destroyed by the unhinged rage of a madman, I have nothing left to lose.

     This machine can transcribe the contents of this godsforsaken scroll onto a common lexicon cube to be comprehended safely, without the risk of blindness or... madness. If all goes well, I may finally understand why he had to die.

------

Project Melody: Entry 43

Date: Sundas, 26th of First Seed, 4E 202

Time: unknown

Location: Tower of Mzark (Oculory), The Pale, Skyrim

Danger Level: Null

     I'm not sure if my calculations are off, or if the device itself is defective and in need of further repair. I'm far from the only one who has attempted to employ this machine. The lock on the lift was broken. My traps around the entrance triggered. Misuse and sabotage are always likely. So-called "scholars" bumbling about with no idea what they are doing. "Researching" and "archiving" parts for their stupid colleges and museums. Idiots. Buffoons!

     I've gone through numerous lexicons trying to complete the transcribing process, but they keep coming out corrupted. Test after test, I'm losing my patience and resources. The risk of reading a defective lexicon is brain damage and various degrees of memory loss. Best case scenario, the scroll's message will be scrambled or once again incomplete.

     No, no. Everything should work. It has to be the scroll... I've pre-tested all of these lexicons. I've even made a control group. Logged memories, language, and skills, and played them back- all recorded correctly and accessible without flaw. So why...? Why does this scroll refuse to transcribe? This machine has read other Elder Scrolls in this fashion, but what's preventing Melody from cooperating? The calibrations are correct. Calculations were checked dozens of times. I don't understand!

     Yes, these scrolls hold otherworldly knowledge of unknown origin... but there's always been consistent behavior. Any Moth Priest could tell you that the message may shift through waves of fate, but the process in which it reads remains the same. Never changing, like the laws of mathematics. THIS. SHOULD. WORK.

------

Project Melody: Entry 44

Date: Morndas, 27th of First Seed, 4E 202

     Restlessly, I've awoken with a realization. What if this message- the message of "Melody" is somehow different from the others?  An Elder Scroll can merely express a prophecy in a set timeline. It cannot predict the instability of Dragonbreaks- breaks in the timeline, recorded with infinite outcomes. Time wounds. What if this message is on an unstable faultline of time? 

     From my understanding, until the events each scroll describes come to pass, they contain information about events in the future, with each viewing containing a possible version of said events. Once the prophecy of an Elder Scroll is enacted, the text becomes fixed, creating a historical document declaring the unequivocal truth of a past event. So this brings up the loudest question of all: If this scroll holds the answer to the Disappearance, why is it not fixed? The Dwemer disappeared almost four thousand years ago. This event has long since passed. What is left to be foretold? ...is this why I'm unable to record the message?  Because it's not there?

     Every few years I return to this place... fragments. Scraps. I'm tired. I'm famished. I'm old. I need to get the lift functioning before I run out of energy. After all the setbacks, I'm still eager to learn what I can from what I've gathered. At the very least, I can extrapolate what the lexicons managed to copy and continue my tonal research. A saving grace. So close. With that kind of knowledge- Yes, nothing else would ever matter again. It would all be fixed. I'd be fixed.

     However, I'd hate for this expedition to Skyrim to be in vain if this too fails. After the destruction of my field lab and losing access to the female Falmer... 

     Ruby. Her name was Ruby...

     I'll make a stop in Eastmarch at my storage outpost to gather my things. So, I suppose if I'm there, I can dip into Mzulft to make up for the lost plunder and harvest some fresh soul gems. Should the results of the lexicon ultimately prove useful, I'll need to power the equipment back at the lab. Excitement and anxiety. My head is spinning. I feel sick. I need to eat something.

     Ah, cripes. Unfortunately, without Brutus, this means I'll need to hire a bodyguard for the final delve. The local Nords make for excellent meat shields, but their stubborn and brutish nature makes them difficult to control. Not to mention expensive. I hate wasting coin on a tactless oaf who doesn't know the difference between a delicate ancient treasure and a rock. I have no choice. I'm not built for this region. I'm not built for this world.

     ...but if this works, that could all change.

Chapter Text

  After spending over two days delving the depths of the ruins of Mzulft, the afternoon sun was not very inviting. Sebastian squinted and shaded his eyes with a groan as he stumbled down the long staircase. He was followed by a large Nord who was not-so-patiently hauling several large sacks of artifacts.

     "Over there," Sebastian motioned with a unique Dwemeri dagger he held, "The small building there. Gently- GENTLY place everything by the door."

     The Nord huffed and lugged the bags down the steps, dropping them haphazardly beside the structure. Sebastian frowned at his lack of care.

     "Two thousand," the brute grunted looking back at him.

     "We agreed on one. One was the number we agreed on, chum," Sebastian flicked a piece of debris from the dagger to show he was in no rush to pay the man.

     "Protecting your scrawny ass from those blind monstrosities costs extra."

     "That was the initial deal. That's precisely why I hired you."

     "I wasn't informed that I'd be lugging around your shit while doing it."

     Sebastian glowered, "Fine. Two thousand. But don't think I'll be hiring you ever again."

     "Oh no," the Nord mocked, "You mean I can't be your verbally abused pack mule anymore?"

     Sebastian's hand hovered over the coin purse on his belt. His eyes lifted to the man and a smile curled on the corner of his mouth. "Hold this a sec, will ya?" he said and immediately tossed the dagger to the Nord, "I need both hands to count out your tip-"

     "What the- By the Nine!" he gasped as he fumbled to catch it. Sebastian removed his coin purse and began shaking it as he peered inside. The Nord gripped the hilt of the dagger and grunted impatiently... or was it pain? Sebastian took a few steps back and watched passively as the man suddenly fell to his knees groaning.

     "Oh, wow," Seb sighed, tucking the coin purse back into his belt, "You don't look so well."

     "Wh... what is..." the man gasped, clenching the dagger as he fell forward into the grass. He twitched a few times before finally exhaling, no longer moving.

     Sebastian waited a long moment before stepping forward and kneeling beside him to pry the weapon from his clenched grasp. "Oops," he chuckled as he stood back up, "My fault. Forgot that this beauty will drain your very life upon contact without proper deflection and offset..." he tapped the strange crystal that made up the blade on his serum-filled metal arm, "Honest mistake. Guess I can keep my gold. Chump."

     Sebastian turned on his heel, almost like a dancer, and swaggered over to the small building. He unlocked its giant bronze doors and, with great effort, began dragging the sacks of plunder inside.

     Once a Dwemer storeroom, he had re-purposed it as a temporary station to gather and study his findings in privacy before having them shipped off to Daggerfall. Seb knelt and began digging through the bags until he found a grand soul gem. It gleamed brightly even in the dim light of the room. He stood and eagerly turned to the long workbench along the back wall. With knowledgeable precision, he installed it into the back compartment of a large bronze sphere that sat there among scattered items covered in dust.

     "Wakey, wakey! For sanity's sake-y!" Seb sang and tapped the front of the ball-like machine. It slowly began to tremble and creak before a long neck-like appendage extended from the top; The end of the piece resembling a slender head, lit up a radiant blue.

     "Ah! He's alive! ALIVE!" Sebastian clapped his metal hands together, "My dear Gantz, my friend, my companion. It's been a while. How are things? How's the wife? The kids? You get that promotion?"

     The automaton tilted its angular head and flashed its little light at him in reply. Seb retained his smile and turned back to the bags on the floor to begin organizing his haul.

     "Sorry for the long absence, friend. I haven't had the time to harvest soul gems until now. These things aren't easy to come by without the proper tools," he explained as he continued to line up various artifacts on the workbench, "I missed you. I missed our talks."

     Gantz made a long mechanical whir and turned his head to register the items around him. Sebastian paused in his sorting and glanced toward a runed lexicon beside the bot. Gantz clicked a few times.

     "Oh, that?" Seb stepped over and lifted it for the automaton to see, "I know it looks like the others. But this one... this is the one that could finish my research. This could be it."

     Sebastian removed a custom tool from his belt and flipped the goggles down from his forehead. He stepped over to Gantz and adjusted a loose joint, "Tools only work as well as the user," he explained as he checked the chassis for other minor faults, "A troll could pick up a hammer and smash a rock. But a man... a man with knowledge could use that same hammer to build an empire!"

     Gantz nodded with a creak. Sebastian stepped back and looked at him.

     "I don't mean literally, stupid," he scoffed, "He'd need more tools and materials- oh, but what if he didn't? An architect who didn't need anything else but his own mind and the song of the universe to create whatever he desired!? Can you imagine? The beautiful music I could make with such a device..."

     The automaton didn't react.

     "Oh, come on. I know you're limited in any form of cognitive capacity, but just imagine if you could simply bend the will of reality to solve all of your problems. I could fix everything. Like it never happened. I could see Lilith again and heal all the wounds of time. I could have my damn arms back..." he paused and blinked while staring at his robot friend.

     "You can at least sympathize with that, can't you? Wouldn't you like to have arms? So you understand me. You understand the pain." 

     Gantz whirred and turned his head to the door. Sebastian frowned.

     "What? What is it?" he turned to look too. The doors were still closed behind him. "Do you hear something? What do you hear?" Seb lifted his goggles and put the tool back in his belt before quietly retrieving his dagger from the workbench. He listened for a long moment but heard nothing. Gantz sputtered and rolled off of the table making his way to the door.

     "Ah! Stop! Don't! What if it's that buffoon of a Nord? What if he's not fully dead? He will crush you, friend! He will crush you into scrap metal!" Seb pushed the small automaton out of the way with his foot, "I'll look. But if I'm not back in five minutes... well... just wait longer. I'll be back."

     The visibly nervous Breton took a deep breath before leaning to press the heavy metal door open. He peeked outside, once again, instantly blinded by the cruel sun. All he could hear was the sound of the wind rustling through the grass and trees.

     "...Hello?" he whispered hoping not to get a reply. He hesitated before stepping out and holding the dagger up defensively. His eyes drifted to the dead Nord at the foot of the steps exactly as he left him. Sebastian relaxed his shoulders and glanced back into the storeroom.

     "You're hearing things, chum," he chuckled nervously, "Probably dust clogging your audio inp-" 

     Something suddenly caught his eye. Seb turned to the trees near the side of the building. A chill ran up his spine upon seeing a young female sitting against the trunk of a tree. Sebastian's muscles tensed, prepared to run back inside, but he couldn't take his eyes off her. Being near-sighted, he struggled to make out her features, but something about her seemed familiar. She wasn't moving and had her head slumped down. Was she dead?

     Sebastian glanced around once more to be sure no one else was watching before taking a deep breath and cautiously making his way over. As he neared he could see that she was breathing heavily as if out of breath. Her eyes were closed and oddly, she appeared to have a tiny infant tucked in her arms which she seemed to be nursing. Seb lowered his weapon sensing that she couldn't be much of a threat but kept his approach slow in case it was some sort of trap.

     "...Ma'am?" he asked, his voice cracking a little, "Are you alright?"

     The girl didn't react. She was either unconscious or very tired. Sebastian paused several yards away and knelt to seem less threatening.

     "Are you in need of assistance? Shall I alert the local guard?"

     Suddenly, the girl lifted her head looking frightened and confused. Sebastian immediately recognized her by the bright red tint of her right eye.

     "No!" she gasped, and clenched the baby tightly, "No guard! No!"

     "Miss Ruby?" Seb stood and came over to her, "What are you doing all the way out here in Eastmarch?"

  Ruby stared up into his face in awe as if he were a ghost. How was he still alive? 

     Seb knelt beside her but continued to keep a small distance, "Did something happen...?" he glanced at the child at her breast, "Is... that yours? I don't-"

     "Cicero," she squeaked as tears began to flow down her cheeks, "Cicero's baby. Brothers came and hurt them!"

     "You- have a child with him?" Seb recoiled in horror, "When? How- what? I- I suppose this explains his obscene level of rage when-"

     "Dragon man and Sebastian's friend."

     "Huh? ...my friend? Dragon man? Argonian?"

     Ruby shook her head, "Sebastian's tall woman friend."

     "I don't have any friends. Especially not women friends. I don't understand what you are trying to tell me. Tall... Do you mean Quen? You saw Quen?"

     "Quen!" Ruby nodded, "Dragon man and Quen hurt Jade and Cicero!"

     Sebastian was beginning to get frustrated. Clearly, something traumatic had happened to lead this gentle girl out in the woods alone like this. Perhaps attempting to communicate in her language would help with understanding.

     "Euron qui neo nawi?" he asked her to elaborate in broken Falmeri.

     She began speaking rapidly in her native tongue, trying desperately to explain what had happened. Sebastian struggled to keep up. He was nearly fluent in the language but only in written form. The time it took him to process the meaning of a word was too much to be able to piece it all together. From what he could gather, Cicero and a woman named Jade were attacked by members of a group called the Dark Brotherhood. One of these members was Quen and the other was a dragon man with a sword. It really didn't make much more sense than it did before.

     "Hold on," Seb said jumping to his feet, "I'll be right back..." he turned and ran back across the grass to the storeroom. Ruby wiped her eyes with the side of her hand and looked down at the baby who was now calmly asleep. She pulled the cloth blanket up to keep her warm and tried her best to emphatically draw the comforting vibes from the child to calm her nerves.

     A moment later, Sebastian came sprinting back, stumbling on his long thin legs. He slid to a stop and knelt beside her again to catch his breath.

     "This was just-" Seb paused and lifted a glowing red cube for her to see, "This one was just a test for my control group. It's a lexicon. Have you seen one before?"

     Ruby lifted her fingers to touch the corner of it. Sebastian gently turned her hand and placed the cube in her palm.

     "It's safe, I promise," he explained, "This contains the basics of the Tamrielic language. Nothing too complex. Essential vocabulary and grammar as one would learn as a child." Awkwardly, he paused and glanced at the sleeping child she was cradling.

     "Okay," Ruby replied softly, sounding lost in thought, "Ruby knows how."

     Sebastian's eyes darted back to her, "You do?"

     She nodded and sat forward. She seemed confident as she carefully placed the baby in her lap and held the cube with both hands. Seb watched and his mind raced. Of course, she was a Falmer. Perhaps one of the Dwemer had her use one before... but why?

     The glowing of the cube brightened for a moment as she turned the pattern on the side clockwise. It made a click and Ruby tensed up closing her eyes as the light shifted to blue and faded into her hand. The cube went dark.

     "Did it work?" Sebastian asked tilting his head to examine her face, "I mean, it should. You're ok?"

     Ruby opened her eyes and smiled softly, "Yes... my head hurts a little, but yes." she handed the blank lexicon to him and pulled the baby back up into her arms. She appeared to be processing her sudden burst of knowledge as so many things began making sense.

     "Incredible," Seb said under his breath, "Now... tell me what happened."

Chapter Text

    As if fluent her entire life, Ruby thoroughly explained what had happened at the cabin in great detail. Sebastian sat quietly in the grass, listening; he could not take his eyes off her.

     Ruby whimpered softly, "I don't know if they are alive or if it's even safe to return. I'm so afraid, I don't know what to do. Please... help me, Mr. Sebastian." She held the infant close.

     "I-..." he sighed heavily, "I don't think there's anything I can do. I'm clearly not built for any form of combat and I have no proper restoration training."

     "But you are so smart!"

     "Heh, well..." he fidgeted and glanced away awkwardly, "Yeah."

     "Please tell me what I should do."

     Sebastian looked down at his hands and flexed his fingers while lost in thought. He closed his eyes as a cool breeze rolled past. "You remind me of my fiance'," he mumbled, "Your kindness. The way you so easily trust... and forgive. I never understood that. I can never forgive every thorn in my side that life impales me with."

     Ruby stared at his contemplative expression, "You miss her so much," she said softly.

     Sebastian glanced back up at her, "How do you-"

     "The pain of loss is a strong one. It's not like any other sorrow. It still hurts after all these years."

     "You feel my-" Seb sat up a bit, "You felt me- what I was feeling when your friend attacked me, didn't you?"

     Ruby nodded, "You were afraid but you were also so very sad. You felt like you failed her?"

     Seb remained silent for a long moment as he stared into her eyes. He looked as if he was fighting something internally. "You can feel others' emotions... Like an empath?" he dodged her question.

     Ruby nodded again.

     "Have you always been able to do this?"

     She bit her lips together and looked down at the baby while thinking, "It's hard to remember. It started after a long sleep. I felt it first when my father-" her eyes widened as she lifted her gaze back to him. It was as if she was suddenly recalling something long forgotten: "My father... He protected me from the others."

     "The other Falmer?"

     "The other Dwemer. They would have let me die," she unconsciously lifted her hand and placed it over her right eye.

     "Tell me more about your father," Seb asked eagerly, "Was he a fighter? Did he take part in the rebellion?"

     "He was very smart, like you. A scientist," she replied lowering her hand, "He lied to his people to protect me... and my mother."

     Sebastian leaned back. He held a look of disbelief as he began to put everything together. "Miss Ruby, was your father a Dwemer?"

     She nodded subtly, "He was a very powerful architect. Mother said he had an important mind. But if the others knew about his love for her..." Ruby suddenly cringed as disturbing memories began replaying.

     "Wow... wow. Wow-wow-wow..." Seb's mind was spinning. Of course! It was so obvious. She was so small and her features were round and child-like, much like the Dwemer. Though she obviously carried much of her mother's Falmeri genes; enough to pass with little to no suspicion. Her father, being a respected scientist, had enough control to keep her from being discovered.

     "So much is coming back again," she wept quietly, "Ever since you healed my scars... my eye- I've been remembering things. Sad things and scary things."

      Seb crawled over and sat beside her against the tree. He wanted to put his arm around her to comfort her but refrained. He had so many questions but despite his social ineptitude, he knew it wasn't the time. He wanted to ask what her father did and if the empathy or the Oblivion Window in her eye were related. All of Seb's theories and questions he had about the Dwemeri culture, she could answer. She had a first-hand account from both Dwemer and Falmer perspectives. Not to mention that she shared the blood of the missing race! All that priceless information coursing through her veins... but no. Now was not the time.

     Ruby suddenly leaned her head on his shoulder and wrapped her arm around his. Sebastian glanced down as a deep sense of desperation washed over him. He couldn't feel her touch. He felt like a freak. He couldn't even comfort a crying woman who was literally hanging on him. He didn't want to touch her with his cold artificial hands. It would be an insult to her tender existence.

     "I'm sorry about that," Seb mumbled, respectfully resting his hands in his lap and looking off toward the storeroom, "Those memories are another side effect of the serum. It heals your wounds but it also seems to heal your brain. I often have intrusive memories so vivid and so painful that sometimes I just want to-..." he sighed heavily through his nose, "I'm not good with biology. Give me a tool belt and some metal. If I can build a solution, I will. But when it comes to flesh and-"

     A thought suddenly crossed his mind, "You know what?" he abruptly sat forward, pulling away from her, "You helped me... albeit, against your will... so it's only right that I help you."

     "You can help Jade and Cicero?" Ruby sat up as well.

     Sebastian turned on his knees to face her directly, "Ehh... I don't think it's a good idea for your friend to see me again after.. well, you know."

     Ruby frowned a little.

     "But I can at least give you a hand," he smirked as he untucked his left sleeve and grabbed his arm. He closed his eyes and flinched as he pulled. There was a metal popping sound and a click. Ruby watched with much interest.

     "There's usually a much more complex process to this," he explained, placing the detached arm on the ground. "Filtering and sterilization, blood tests, and such. This isn't the same as the stuff I used on you. Though it's customized to my own homeostatic needs, it should have a similar effect."

     Sebastian slid his fingers against a compartment on the metal bicep while kneeling on the forearm to keep it still. The cover opened and inside was a small clip containing a line of pink capsules. He carefully popped one from its slot.

     "Take this to your friend," he held it out to her, "It's safe to ingest. It's a variant of the serum I used on you. It's not as strong, but it can rapidly close wounds, even fatal ones... depending on timing."

     Ruby reached out and took it carefully, cradling it in her palm like a priceless treasure.

     "It's the only reason I'm still here, to be honest," Seb pointed to the pink glow in the wrist of the arm, "The Dwemer sure knew a thing or two about pushing the limits of mortality." he cleared his throat awkwardly.

     "Thank you, Mr. Sebastian," Ruby smiled warmly, "You are a good man."

     "I-... well, I don't think... you really don't know me that well. I've been around for a long time and I've done some pretty horri-"

     Sebastian's stammering was interrupted by the sound of weapons being unsheathed. Ruby gasped looking past him and quickly got to her feet. He turned to see two yellow-eyed female Daedra dressed in unseasonably skimpy gold armor approaching.

     "It's frankly too cold to fight," a man's drab voice sounded from nearby, "Please, don't make this take any longer than it should and simply submit to the Golden Saints."

     Sebastian grabbed his unique dagger off the ground and slowly stood. Every muscle in his body was telling him to run. He was way outnumbered, had no ability to fight, and currently only had one arm. But he felt an inexplicably powerful urge to protect Ruby.

     "What is this?" Seb called to the yet-to-be-seen man, "What do you want? Money? I've got money. Lots of it. Let's talk."

     Ruby suddenly screamed. Sebastian turned to see two more of the oddly sexy Daedra. One of them held the poor girl by her throat as the other backed away holding the infant.

     "No monetary compensation is required," the man replied in his eerily calm voice. "The child will suffice. My Lord doesn't like to be kept waiting."

     A bright portal ripped through the air nearby and Ruby began to wail as she watched the child being carried toward it.

     "That wasn't so hard, was it?" the man stepped around the side of the tree. He was an older Breton with an impeccable sense of fashion.

     "Who are you!?" Sebastian squeaked holding his dagger out with his one hand, trying his best to appear threatening, "Are you part of that Dark Brotherhood cult?"

     "Oh, goodness, no," the man replied, "I am Haskill, chamberlain to the Lord Sheogorath."

     "Okay, 'Haskill'. Let the girl go," Seb said, struggling to sound tough in his near-pubescent-sounding voice.

     "The Madgod has no issue with the girl. In fact, he has enjoyed her assistance in the matter."

     "Then give her back the child!"

     "Oh, dear. That's not something I can do. Contracts and liabilities and all," Haskill waved his hand to the Daedra holding Ruby. She dropped the frightened girl and instantly turned to face Sebastian, drawing her sword. Ruby attempted to crawl away.

     "It's nothing personal, boy," the man bowed respectfully, "I don't even know who you are. So, I apologize for you getting wrapped up in this. Good day."

     Haskill turned and stepped through the portal as it closed behind him. The remaining Golden Saints closed in on Sebastian.

     "Whoa, whoa! Wait!" he panicked, "Why me!?"

     "As the Lord Sheogorath requests, we Aureal obey," one of the three replied.

     "And what exactly did your Lord request?"

     "Get on the ground, dog," another ordered, pointing down with her blade. Seb wasn't sure if he should be afraid or turned on.

     After a short awkward hesitation, he began  backing toward Ruby, "Go!" he shouted to her, "He said they're not after you, so just go!"

     She looked up at him, feeling absolutely devastated. Cicero had asked her to protect the child and get to safety, but there was no way to get Eris back now.

     "Seriously, Ruby... go back to your friends. I'll be okay..." Sebastian said in a weary tone. He swung the dagger at one of the Daedra. The blade ripped across her abdomen and the weapon began to glow as it pulled every ounce of life force out of her.

     Ruby used the moment of distraction to get to her feet and run. She could barely see through her tears. Once she was far enough away, she glanced back to see Sebastian smiling as he actually seemed to be fighting off the Golden Saints one-handed. Something about that strange weapon had given him a boost of confidence... until it was dramatically knocked from his hand. He scrambled to retrieve it and turned to sprint in the opposite direction around the back of the storeroom, leading the Daedra out of view of Ruby. He had surprising speed for a man of his frail nature.

     Ruby trembled as she realized that she was completely alone. She opened her hand and looked at the pink capsule. She needed to get back to Cicero... If it wasn't already too late.

>>>New character added to the Character Guide Book: Haskill

Chapter Text

    The pain was gone. Cicero blindly shifted around as his senses gradually came back to him. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes; the bitter taste of an unknown alchemic concoction coated the back of his throat. He was still on the floor, but judging by the sound of crackling and warmth, he was lying near the hearth. Someone had fed the fire. How long was he out for?

     Cicero groaned and slowly pulled himself up. His muscles were stiff suggesting he had been unconscious for a while. He glanced down to see that he was no longer wearing the top piece of his armor and a bandage was wrapped around his torso with precision. His eyes shifted up to the room. The blood that once covered the wooden floor had been cleaned up and an old rug now covered most of the stains. Meegs and Quen's bodies were gone. Jade. Where was Jade!?

     Strength rapidly returned to his muscles. Cicero shifted to get to his feet; the clanking of a chain startled him. He glanced down to see an old rusted shackle clamped around his ankle. It appeared to be secured to a metal clasp bolted near the foot of the bed. The chain length was enough to move about the cabin, but clearly whoever put it on didn't want him going anywhere.  

     Cicero lifted the chain and before even testing its strength, he realized that someone was lying in the bed—a blonde woman. She was lying with her back to him, clean linen wrapped around her, and appeared to be sleeping. There were empty potion bottles scattered around the nightstand, some with unique and exotic designs, possibly from another region. Cicero made his way closer with caution. Could this be the person who dressed his wounds?

     "Miss?" he asked, his voice was hoarse and his throat felt dry. She didn't seem to hear him. He approached the bed and leaned slowly to see her face. She had dried blood caked in her hair and her cheek seemed to be slightly stained. She- ...it was Jade.

     Cicero's concerns about being captive vanished; there was no way he'd leave her behind. His head began to spin. Maybe it was from standing after being on the ground for so long, but he felt like he was about to faint. He gently sat on the bed beside her and brushed her blonde hair from her face noticing that her makeup had been cleaned away. Her skin was warm but not as warm as it should have been.

     Cicero squeaked as he struggled to hold in his conflicting emotions of relief and regret. He was so convinced that she had been killed. There's no way anyone could have survived such an injury. He leaned down to touch his lips to her temple before laying beside her, pulling her into his arms. She was unresponsive.

     "This should have never happened," he whispered, holding her head against his shoulder. Her body, though breathing, felt cool against his skin. Someone else had to have saved them. There's no way Jade could have aided his wounds and then cared for herself in her condition. And where did all those strange potion bottles come from?

     "This was my fault," he continued while running his fingers through her blood-stained hair, "I led them here... I brought you into this mess. It was my job to keep you from harm, but instead, I brought you into it. You and Eris... I did it again. I was distracted; thinking with my heart instead of my head... I'm a fool."

     Cicero's hand brushed against the thin chain of a necklace at the back of her neck. He hooked it with his finger and lifted his head to see. It was the silver necklace with the gemstones he had given her back in Whiterun.  She never wore jewelry and didn't seem to like it when he had first presented it to her. She never liked anything he gave her. Jade was a difficult woman to please. But here she was, wearing that second-hand necklace. The little blue and green gems suited her.

     It was then that Cicero noticed a small clasp on the side of the pendant. He gently flicked it with his thumb causing it to pop open revealing something folded inside. He carefully removed the delicate item to examine it. 

     It was a flower petal that seemed to be preserved in a soft resin. He rolled it around in his fingers while thinking. It looked like a petal from a deathbell. Perhaps she kept it to use for alchemy? No, no. That's silly. Jade knew next to nothing about alchemy. Nor was she one to ever plan ahead.

     Then a strange thought crossed his mind. Was this a petal from the flower he had attempted to give her several months ago? Jade acted so upset that he had picked flowers for Mother but had none to offer her. She just never seemed like a woman who cared about such gestures. Even when he tried to reconcile with the offering of this flower, she seemed to not care and even threw it back at him, if memory served. Did she pick it up after he'd left? Even if she did, why did she preserve it like this?

     Cicero's thought process was shattered by the sound of the cabin door creaking open. He knew it was a matter of time before whoever aided them would return. 

     "Hey, you're finally awake," a young blond man said as he set a bucket of water down by the door. He looked to be in his late twenties, a bit thin and rather small for a typical male Nord in these parts. Though, he wasn't dressed like a typical Nord either. His attire suggested affluence and importance. Clean-cut, rich fabrics, and what appeared to be a velvet duster with a fur collar. Oddly, he also wore long black leather gloves up to his elbows as if to keep his hands clean in whatever profession he practiced.

     "Who are you?" Cicero asked as he slowly sat up on the edge of the bed.

     "I should be asking you the same thing, bro," the man replied as he wiped his gloves with the end of a long blood-spattered cloth hanging from his belt, "What are you doing in my cabin, and what in Oblivion happened? It took me two days to get all of the blood out before it began attracting wildlife."

     "Your cabin? This place is abandoned."

     "It's my uncle's cabin. I grew up here. That's not the point," the man moved over to a small table near the door and picked up a fancy blue pipe. He then pulled a tiny container from the pouch on his belt and began pouring some sort of powder into it and packing it down with his pinky finger.

     "Are you Winter-Heart?" Cicero inquired as he watched the man conjure a small flame to light the pipe.

     "Ah, so this isn't a coincidence? You know my sister, then," he began to smoke, "I honestly figured you were a bandit of sorts but that didn't explain why you were wrapped around her so intimately."

     "Jade's never mentioned a brother," Cicero rapidly began noticing the resemblance. The man's bold green eyes and plush lips; his petite frame confirming it.

     The man exhaled a plume of light purple smoke and chuckled as he sauntered over, "Ah, yes. 'Jade'. Such an uninspired epithet."

     Cicero instinctively took note of the Blade of Woe lying on the nightstand among the various potion bottles, "She said her mother died in childbirth."

     "I'm her older brother. Twin. Hard to tell, right? Youthful genetics," he laughed, "I'm lying, bro. It's a facade. A lucrative one, at that."

     "So you're not her brother?"

     "No, no," he lowered to the floor in front of Cicero, crossing his legs casually, "She's my little other half, yes. But the youthful facade... well, that's paid for."

     "I'm still not following..."

     The man took another hit from his pipe and held his gloved hand out to him, "Name's Yavni Winter-Heart. I deal in black-market trades and transactions. I'm also the guy you call when you need a favor. Clean up, disposal, alibies, witness protection, forged documents, fencing, you name it. I make it happen."

     It was no surprise to Cicero that Jade's brother would also operate within the criminal underground. It seemed their entire family was connected through the Thieves Guild. Given his status with the faction, Cicero felt it would be best to play it safe by limiting how much personal information he shared. He shook Yavni's hand, "Cicero."

     "Imperial. Nice. I love a man with money." He winked.

     "I don't have any wealth to my name."

     "Well, damn. You must be hung then."

     "Excuse me?"

     "Money or dick, the slut's after something. What'd you offer her?"

     "Unbelievable. You so freely call your sister a slut?"

     Yavni burst into laughter and promptly began choking on his smoke. He waved his hand around as he tried to get control again, "Okay, okay! You clearly do not know her well. Honest mistake!"

     "I know her very well, thank you," Cicero clenched his jaw, suddenly realizing that perhaps he didn't know nearly as much as he had thought. He didn't even know Jade had a twin brother. She was extremely secretive about her past. It was only by tragic circumstance that he learned of her uncles.

     Yavni grinned as he examined his pipe, "If sleeping with the bitch means you know her, well... half of Skyrim knows her quite well." 

     "You don't seem to know her at all if you deem her a gold-digging prostitute," Cicero said in a low tone, quite annoyed to be having this conversation yet again.

     "The most opening up she does is with her legs," Yavni shrugged, "and I'm not about incest, so my observation stands. But I'll tell you what, my mysterious friend. You seem rather interested in my family, so let's play a little game. I'm in a friendly mood today-"

     "I'm sure that skooma helps..."

     "It does, indeed. Yes, I'm in a friendly mood today," he repeated, "So instead of alerting the local patrol and having you arrested for trespassing, murder, and possible assault, let's swap some information. Coolio?"

     Cicero glanced down at the chain attached to his ankle. He had little choice. He knew he needed to watch what he said. With this man's alleged profession, he was likely very adept at finding things out. The situation could turn bad to worse in a heartbeat.

     "Fair enough..." Cicero muttered, subtly reaching back to brush his hand on Jade as if to ground himself.

     "I'll ask a question, and you answer truthfully," Yavni explained, "Then you can ask me something and figure out if I'm lying."

     Cicero lowered his brow. This guy was hard to read and seemed to find enjoyment in being difficult. His snide grin and relaxed posture just oozed confidence. Though, unlike Jade, Yavni's narcissism didn't feel like an act.

     "First question," Yavni leaned back onto his arm and pointed the mouth of the pipe at Cicero, "How do you know my sister?"

     "She's my boss," he replied, tightening his lips as he tried to gauge Yavni's reaction.

     "Boss, eh? You a hired sword?"

     "Something like that."

     "Fair enough. I have to say, though, nice job protecting her from the Dark Brotherhood and the Thalmor," he said sarcastically.

     Cicero squinted, "They're dead, aren't they?"

     "True," Yavni shrugged and sat forward, resting his arms on his thighs, "Your turn. Ask away."

     "What did you mean when you said, 'youthful facade'?"

     "HA!" he slapped his knee, "I knew you'd come back to that! As mentioned, I run black-market items from shady sources from all around Tamriel. Potions, scrolls, drugs... contraband. You name it, I've smuggled it," Yavni leaned to the side and began fishing in his belt pouch again, "Njadya comes to me every so often for her hook-up. Custom made to suit her wishes."

     Cicero felt his heart sink. Yet one more thing he didn't know about Jade. He knew she was a free spirit and known to drink to excess... but he wasn't aware that she was into experimental and illicit stuff.

     Yavni pulled out a small blue flask and held it up between his forefinger and thumb, "Youth in a bottle... kinda. Made from elf blood and nymph tears or something. I don't know. I don't make it. I just sell it," he handed it to Cicero, "It's a tonic that lasts until dispelled. Keeps 'em guessin'. Did you seriously think that Njadya's tits were that perfect? Damn girl hasn't aged in ten years. Her bizarre choice of hair pigment should have given away the fact that she wasn't natural."

     Cicero had never really thought about it. Sure, Jade's appearance always seemed off. She was beyond superficial. He figured the hair was something she chose to do to get even more attention. Being the Dragonborn and having an amazing body just wasn't enough for her.

     Cicero turned and glanced back down at Jade. She did look a bit older. He thought it was from seeing her without makeup for the first time-

     "It wore off?" he asked and lovingly tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear.

     Yavni sighed, "She was dead when I arrived... though, I was able to revive her. So, the potion was dispelled. Goodbye, perfectly round tits. Goodbye, permanent makeup. Goodbye 20-something girl."

     Cicero truly liked her better this way. She looked more mature and closer to his own age. She seemed oddly refined and almost innocent. Almost.

     "She's gonna want that bottle when she wakes up," Yavni sniffed, "That girl doesn't want anyone to see those scars."

     "Scars?" Cicero glanced back at him.

     "Yeah, that leads to my next question.... what's with the black blood, bro?"

     Cicero tensed up. He wasn't sure how to reply. He had first noticed it after Mother had given him the 'kiss-of-death' that triggered a cold pressure in his chest. The same pain he had just before the Brotherhood arrived at the cabin...

     "Legend says that a man with black blood has no soul," Yavni grinned and toked his pipe again, "What say you, ginger?"

     "Ha."

     "Aw, no sense of humor?"

     Oh, the irony. Cicero squinted, "I don't have an answer for you and frankly, I'm over this little game," he stood up.

     "Whoa, why the sudden shift in mood, my man? Are we not friends yet?"

     "My actual friend is out there and I need to find her and make sure she's safe. Remove this shackle."

     Yavni scrambled to his feet, "Chill, I got you. Describe her. I've got scouts all over the Rift. Alive or dead, we'll find your girl."

     His offer didn't seem wise to take. Jade's brother or not, this guy was sketchy.

     "I don't need help," Cicero grabbed the chain and yanked it.

     "Clearly," Yavni gestured to his bandages, "Only a fool would go running half-naked into the woods with a wound like that."

     "You have no idea, " Cicero scoffed, "It wouldn't be the first time. I'd rather my business not be alerted to the entire Rift."

     "If you're worried about the law knowing what's going on, don't be," he crossed his arms, "You're safe with me, fam. I'm sleeping with Maven Black-Briar." Yavni grinned wickedly.

>>>New character added to the Character Guide Book: Yavni Winter-Heart

Chapter Text

     A chill ran up Cicero's spine. If there was one person in all of Skyrim you didn't want to cross, it was Maven Black-Briar. Her family was essentially the local mafia with the protection and assistance of the Thieves Guild and regional authority. Cicero knew that they were still looking for him after the Ragged Flagon massacre. The family had eyes and ears everywhere and it's actually quite a miracle that Cicero hadn't been caught yet. It was a wise decision not to open up to Yavni about himself or his relationship with Jade... and definitely not about Eris.

     "It's a personal matter..." Cicero flexed his grip on the chain.

     "Well, coming into my cabin and cuddling up to my freshly murdered sister in a pool of blood is personal for me, so how about we cut the subtleties and you tell me what's really going on here?" Yavni stood tall- for a man of petite stature.

     Cicero hesitated as he eyed the Blade of Woe on the nightstand in his peripheral. He didn't want to fight Jade's brother. Not after all that's already happened to her.

     "Your sister is being hunted by a gang," Cicero lied, "I've been hired to protect her."

     "And what of your friend?"

     Before he could answer, the cabin door swung open and a large boy in his early teens stepped in. He carried a fancy bow and was dressed in attire just as rich and lavish as Yavni's.

     "Dad, there's some busty elf girl outside crying," the boy explained casually, "I shot an arrow at her but she won't leave."

     Yavni hadn't removed his gaze from Cicero. A mischievous smile curled on the corners of his mouth.

     "Is that your friend, ya reckon?" he asked in a quiet yet amused tone.

     This was bad timing. The two men stared at each other as the boy waited for instruction. It was clear that neither trusted the other. 

     "Bring her in," Yavni called over his shoulder without breaking eye contact, "And be polite."

     The boy grumbled and kicked the door frame before heading back outside, slamming the door behind him.

     "That's my kid, Rhem," Yavni sneered, "Don't mind the angst. Teen stuff."

     Cicero didn't comment. He felt like he was in a standoff. Too much was at stake to speak or act carelessly without planning; Too many precious lives were in the mix now.

     "You seem tense," Yavni interrupted his focus, "I'm just here to help, bro. If I wanted you dead, I'd have simply left you to bleed out."

     That didn't make Cicero feel any more comfortable. Keeping him alive was not a courtesy. He'd been saved from the brink of death before just to be kept for torture and information. But he had a feeling that Mother was not going to rescue him this time.

     The sound of Ruby's cries sent a wave of anxiety through him. Cicero looked up to see her stumble through the door as Rhem pushed her from behind with the tip of his bow.

     "She won't tell me her name," the boy grumbled.

     Ruby's eyes widened upon seeing that Cicero was okay and instantly ran to embrace him. Yavni stepped to the side and nodded as he watched the reunion with visible curiosity.

     "Cicero!" Ruby choked on her tears, burying her face into his shoulder. She shook like a frail leaf. He knew what had happened before she could even speak the words.

     "I'm so sorry..." she cried and tightened her grip on him, "I tried... they came and they took the baby... I was so scared! I didn't know what to do!"

     "Woooow..." Yavni raised his brow, "There IS a lot more to this story... my interest is piqued."

     "Who the crap are these people?" Rhem asked, leaning his shoulder on the door frame.

     "Shut up," his father replied and began walking around them as if observing a work of art.

     Cicero grabbed Ruby by the shoulders and gently pulled her back to look her in the eye. The sheer devastation on her face and the reality of the situation made him feel weak. It was all he could do to not break down along with her. His eyes shifted to Yavni. He knew he needed to focus and keep a clear head. Panicking and getting emotional would only make things worse.

     "Please forgive me," Ruby begged, "They took her into a portal-"

     Cicero's eyes darted back to her, "A portal?"

     Ruby nodded and wiped her eyes, "In the air. The scary women with gold armor."

     Nothing made sense. This was something beyond the Dark Brotherhood's doing. Suddenly, something else dawned on him. "Ruby... you're speaking differently..."

     She tried to catch her breath and nodded again as her gaze drifted down to the bandages on her friend's abdomen."I... I found help," she said softly and held the pink capsule up for him to see.

     Yavni eagerly leaned in to see but remained silent. 

     Cicero took it from her and examined it. "What is this?" he asked, noting Yavni's interest.

     "It can heal," she explained, "...for Jade..." Ruby's voice trailed off. She wasn't sure if Jade was even alive. Cicero glanced back at the bed.

     "Pink, huh?" Yavni moved even closer. "I've never seen something like that before," He reached for the capsule.

     Cicero closed his hand around it and stepped back, "Hold on," he looked back at Ruby. Everything was hitting him at once and he was having a hard time thinking. Eris could still be alive. But who in Oblivion had her? And now Ruby was speaking perfect Tamrielic. Did this healing pill have something to do with that as well? With Yavni hovering around, he needed to choose his words wisely.

     "Ruby, where did you get this?"

     "Mister Sebastian gave it to me," she replied, wiping her eyes with the back of her wrist.

     "Who?"

     "He healed my scars. He said it keeps him alive."

     "Wait, you mean that freak from the Dwarven ruins?" Cicero wrinkled his brow, "He's dead-"

     Ruby shook her head and placed her hands over his fist containing the capsule. 

     Yavni looked as if he was about to piss himself with excitement. "Who is this Sebastian fella?" he asked while bouncing on his heels, "This stuff really works? Does he make it himself? Are there side effects? How much does he charge?"

     Cicero frowned, "I'm not giving Jade something that that psycho gave you. This doesn't feel right."

     "I trust him," she replied calmly, "Please trust me."

     "How did he find you?" Cicero lowered his tone, "What did he do to you...?"

     Why was she suddenly so trusting of the man who stalked, kidnapped, and experimented on her? Somehow, he was the reason she was able to speak so fluently now. The ancient technology that Breton used was beyond magic and comprehension. Cicero didn't like the idea of trusting anything that he didn't understand. He may have been paranoid before... but with everything that's been happening lately, his nerves were shot.

     "He helped me," Ruby said quietly, "I know you don't like him... but please... trust me."

     Cicero opened his hand and looked at the capsule again. Against all of his better judgment, he sighed and turned to the bed. 

     "Whoa!" Yavni stepped over, "Hold up, bro. You're gonna use that on my sis? I think I should get a say in the matter."

     Cicero glanced back at him, "How many experimental backwater potions did you pour down her throat to keep her alive without question?"

     "..."

     "That's what I thought," he turned back to Jade. Her skin was cool to the touch and her breathing was faint. As scared as he was to try this, he knew that she was barely holding on as it was. Losing her twice would be too much to bear.

     Cicero knelt beside the bed and broke the capsule open with his fingers. He touched Jade's face gently, hesitating. After a deep breath, Cicero proceeded to pour the contents into her mouth. He tilted her chin up and ran his fingers over her throat to try and work it down. Ruby and Yavni watched with anticipation.

     "What the fuck is even going on?" Rhem grunted from across the room.

     "Go outside!" his father snapped his fingers and pointed to the door, "This is adult stuff!"

     "By Talos! I'm almost fourteen!"

     "OUT!"

     Rhem exhaled as loudly as he could and slammed the door behind him. 

     The seconds passed slowly as the three waited for any kind of reaction. Cicero firmly placed his fingers on the side of her throat to feel her pulse. Her heartbeat was weak but seemed to be gradually picking up.

     "How long does this take to work?" he asked.

     "I'm not sure," Ruby began fidgeting, "Not long..."

     Cicero looked over his shoulder at her, "This is what he used on you? At the ruins?"

     She nodded.

     Jade suddenly inhaled and began coughing violently. She gagged and spat pink fluid. Everyone watched in awe.

     "Okay," Yavni turned to Ruby, "You said his name was Sebastian? How can I contact him?"

     Cicero took Jade's face into his hands and smiled. The pink liquid was dripping from her eyes and nose. She looked disoriented. Cicero kissed her on the forehead. He was so relieved that he wanted to leap on the bed and smother her with affection but did his best to stay composed.

     "...what happened?" she asked with wide eyes.

     "You're going to be okay," Cicero couldn't stop smiling.

     Jade glanced past him to her brother, "Yavni...? What's going on?"

     "Still trying to figure that out," he replied, strangely keeping his distance, "You had a bit of a party, it seems. You were hurt. I've been keeping you stable with some of Vella's potions, but I was running out. This dude here just gave you some crazy pink shit and BAM! Here we are."

     Jade looked rightfully bewildered by the news. She glanced back at Cicero still breathing heavily, "...I-...thank you."

     Cicero's heart was about to burst from his chest. He reached out and began wiping some of the pink from her face. "I'm just happy you're alive," he said warmly.

     "Are you a healer?"

     Cicero paused and his eyes lifted to meet hers. She looked as confused as he felt. He lowered his hand. "What do you mean...?"

     "Do you heal people? What is your name?"

     The silence that fell upon the room was deafening.

>>>New character added to the Character Guide Book: Rhem Winter-Heart

Chapter Text

   "You lied to me!" Yavni gasped, "You said you knew her!"

     Cicero was having a hard time thinking. He trembled as he tried to convince himself that Jade was just messing with him. He watched her face for any sign of humor. Nothing.

     "You seem sad," she said looking concerned, "I don't understand... have we met before?"

     "He said that you were his boss!" Yavni exclaimed, seeming way more excited about this sudden development than worried. "He was kissing and hugging you!"

     Jade suddenly pulled away. Cicero stood and took a step back to give her space.

     "I don't know you..." she looked as if she was about to panic.

     "It's... it's alright," he said quietly, "You're alive... that's what matters..."

     "Dude, you don't even know her," Yavni hovered his hand over his mouth dramatically, "Are you a stalker? Holy Talos, are you secretly in love with her? Bro, you better start spillin' it..."

     Jade looked up at Cicero, "Is this true?"

     "No!" his head was beginning to hurt, "It's not like that. Something happened-"

     "Then who are you?"

     Cicero hesitated. Ruby slowly wrapped her arm around his. He had just gotten Jade back only to lose her again. But maybe this was for the best. She was free from the Brotherhood and free from him. Everything he ever touched was destroyed. Every relationship he'd ever tried to embrace was ripped away from him. It would be a courtesy for him to just walk away.

     The Dark Brotherhood no longer needed Jade. In this state, she was not a threat. Cicero could find Eris on his own. He could raise and care for her just as he had promised. Everything happens for a reason. Jade had her brother to watch out for her now.

     "I'm nobody," he replied softly, "I saw you were being attacked and... decided to help."

     Ruby looked up at Cicero. She could feel his heart breaking. Tears began to pour down her cheeks. But he wasn't crying. His expression was firm and confident.

     "Does my rescuer have a name?" Jade asked, seeming a bit more relaxed.

     Cicero shook his head and looked away, clenching his jaw. Jade waited for a response but quickly realized that something was wrong.

     "Are you in trouble?" she asked.

     What a strange question. She had no idea how much trouble he was dealing with. Cicero couldn't even lift his gaze to look at her again out of fear of simply bursting into tears. He felt dead inside.

     "Here," Yavni finally stepped over and handed Jade the little blue vial, "I figured you'd want this as soon as you woke up."

     She took it and looked it over, "What is it?"

     "Your youth tonic. You can pay me when you're feeling better," he smiled as if he were being helpful.

     She chuckled awkwardly, "Yavni... I don't know what you're talking about. What is this?"

     "Wait... do you really not remember anything?"

     Jade wiped some of the pink serum from her face and examined it on her fingertips. She frowned as she tried to think.

     "You had no head trauma... What's the last thing you remember?" Yavni asked, finally sounding concerned.

     "I was collecting protection payments from Uncle Gogvir's East Side clients," she looked around, "Ah, fish biscuits. I don't know where I put the satchel... he's gonna be pissed."

     Cicero's eyes widened and he turned back to face her. Yavni shared the same look of shock.

     "Njadya..." her brother said weakly, "Uncle Gogvir's dead."

     Jade's gaze returned to him. She looked surprised but slightly relieved, "When? What happened? Does Uncle Jarkov know?"

     Yavni exhaled slowly. He approached the bed and knelt to look her straight in the eyes, "He was killed last year at the Bee and Barb. I was called to clean up."

     "Nine months ago," Cicero muttered.

     The twins glanced at him in unison. 

     Perhaps he shouldn't share any more details. He already seemed like a creepy, touchy, stalker. The last thing he needed was to be pinned for the murder of her uncle- uncles... as well.

     "How do you know that?" Yavni squinted.

     Shit.

     "Word gets around when a prominent Thieves Guild member is murdered," he mumbled and crossed his arms trying to appear oblivious.

     Yavni's expression loosened as he began putting things together, "Yeah..." he said wearily, "Had several members killed since then. A rogue Dark Brotherhood member was apprehended. Maven was going to drag some info out of him but he escaped. Did word of that get around to you too?"

     Cicero clenched his teeth.

     "Yavni? I'm scared," Jade interrupted, "What's going on?"

     Her brother turned back to her, "Njadya, this may seem like a strange question but... how old are we?"

     She wrinkled her brow and smirked, "Silly. Did you hit your head?"

     "No, I'm serious."

     "...sixteen?"

     Cicero suddenly grabbed the chain attached to his ankle. Ruby lost her grip on his arm as he jerked it, breaking it from the rusted shackle. He threw the chain aside, turned to grab the Blade of Woe from the nightstand, and stormed toward the door. 

     "Yikes," Yavni scoffed as he watched the abrupt departure.

~

     Outside, Cicero kicked the front gate open and threw the blade into the side of a tree. Ruby ran to catch up but stopped a few yards away. His rage made her feel like she was burning on the inside. She flinched and kept her distance. This was the same emotion when he beat Sebastian and attacked Sage... though this time it was mixed with an overwhelming sadness. A sadness that felt very similar to that of loss.

     It may have been the middle of the day, but everything felt very dark. Cicero grabbed a log from a woodpile near the gate and kicked the rest of the pile over before turning and slamming it against the tree over and over. Bark splintered everywhere as he screamed in frustration until the log snapped in two.

     Ruby lowered to a squatting position and hugged her knees. She closed her eyes tightly feeling helpless to comfort her friend. His wails of frustration and agony tortured her.

     "I'LL KILL HIM!" Cicero screamed and began punching the tree with his bare fists, "I'll beat his skull into mush with his own fucking arm!"

     Ruby suddenly opened her eyes. He was talking about Sebastian...

     Cicero shouted between every punch, "FUCKING-MUTILATE-HIS FUCKING-FACE!"

     "He didn't know!" Ruby stood up, clenching her tiny fists at her sides. She trembled nervously. Cicero paused and glanced back at her while panting loudly through his teeth. He just realized that she was watching his psychotic break the entire time. She could feel everything. No matter what... NO MATTER WHAT, he always hurt the ones he loved.

     Cicero took a deep breath trying to calm down. The searing pain of his bloody knuckles began to grow as his adrenaline subsided.

     "You know what your problem is?" he finally spoke and began walking over to her, "You trust too much."

     Ruby wrapped her hands around her ruby necklace and held it close to her collarbone defensively. She quivered but she didn't move away as he closed in.

     "You forgive everyone no matter what they've done to you. You allow them to hurt you over and over and you never learn!"

     Ruby bowed her head a little but held eye contact bravely.

     "You are too naive," Cicero continued, "People take advantage of you. You foolishly assume that people are inherently good. It's a big scary world outside of the Dwemer cities you grew up in. Everyone is out to get you! The universe is out to get you! Just breathing damns you to an existence of backstabbing and betrayal. Life WANTS you to fail. You've lived in the darkness for so long. You just want people to like you and accept you. You don't want to be alone so you do whatever is asked of you and would even sacrifice your own sanity to-..." He paused.

     Cicero's agitation faded. He relaxed his shoulders and closed his eyes standing there silently. Ruby watched. The cold air was freezing on her tear-stained cheeks. They both knew he was talking about himself. The problem was what the problem had always been. He kept doing the same thing over and over expecting a different outcome. He never learned from his mistakes. His attempts to become a better man and protect the ones he loved were at odds with his need to be accepted by his "family" with the Dark Brotherhood and remain loyal to the cause. Yet he continued to try to make it work. It was a juggling act that no merry-man could perform. It was, by definition of the word, insanity.

     Cicero opened his eyes and exhaled as he reached out and pulled Ruby into a hug. She didn't flinch or try to pull away, but she didn't hug him back either.

     "I have to go," he whispered, holding her head against his bare shoulder, "I have to end this."

     Ruby suddenly pulled back and looked up at him, "No! Please... please don't hurt him."

     "Hurt who?"

     "Mister Sebastian. Please. He's not evil. He's just-... he's sad."

     Cicero lifted his hand to wipe the tears from her face. She grabbed his wrist and pulled it down to look at the black blood on his knuckles.

     "I do trust you, Ruby. I know that you can learn more about a person by sitting next to them for a moment than most people can by spending their lives together," he lifted his hand again and brushed a lock of hair from her forehead. "I'm going back to the Sanctuary. I need to find out where Eris was taken... I'm going to confront Mother."

     Ruby's eyes widened, "She will hurt you!"