Hello, everyone. Thanks for stopping by~. This is my first Skyrim fanfic, so I hope you enjoy it.

I'll let you know up front: it's a little AU. I follow the game loosely, but not completely, so some details may be off. I was inspired by a number of other authors on this website to write this, so I thank them for the boost of inspiration.

Also. I'm still learning how to use this place's publishing system. So forgive the constant refurbishing I'll be doing. :T

I shouldn't have to say this...but sadly, I don't own Skyrim or any of the characters in it.

Please R&R~

A little farther gone

Karma pulled up her hood to shield her face from the falling rain. Unlike the common people of the city below her, she didn't see it as an obstacle to her task. The rain would dampen the sound of her footsteps, the twang of her bow, and the whistle of her arrow. It would not hamper her visibility, nor would it cause her fingers to slip over the string. The grey skies would make it easier for her to use the shadows to her advantage. The mission would be done swiftly, without error, without distraction.

That was simply expected of a Dark Brotherhood assassin.

Karma was the newest member of the Dark Brotherhood and she bore that title with pride. She had proved herself to be a productive and trustworthy member of the family within her first few weeks, and she had upheld that with seeming ease despite her youth. Her impeccable skill with the bow was useful—quick and clean kills from a distance, in and out missions, little to no contact. In a terrible situation, she could handle a sword well and use small amounts of magic. And with a small, slender-framed body and Redguard blood, there were few that could outrun her.

She wore the symbol of the Black Hand proudly, and used her status as an assassin to exact her own sort of revenge upon the world. She could not hunt down the men who had taken away her home and her family ten years ago, but she could cut down anyone who caused harm to other innocent (or not so innocent) people. At twenty-two years old, she was a force to be reckoned with and she knew it. Karma knew that she didn't look like very much. She was average, as far as Redguard women go: average in height, small in build, more muscle than a simple housewife. She kept her black hair cut short, usually with the blade of her concealed dagger, and owned a pair of dark chocolate colored eyes. She neglected any face-paints or braids, and wasn't outstandingly intimidating with her lack of visible scars. So she had to let her skill with a bow do the talking for her, allowing her excellent marksmanship to show everyone exactly what kind of woman she was. Abrasive, at best.

It was with hidden satisfaction that she rode out of Markarth on her trusty steed, bow safely strapped her back, its job of the day finished. The road back to Falkreath would be dangerous, but unlike commoners, she didn't cower at the idea. In fact, anyone that got in her way would find much more than they bargained for with her.

Returning to her home to be greeted by people she was fond of was bittersweet. After two years of living in the Falkreath Sanctuary, Karma had bonds with her Dark Brothers and Sisters that she cherished, no matter her lack of expression. They did not replace the family she'd once had…but they helped fill the space, smearing a healing salve over the scar. They'd taken her in, refined her, and given her a place to belong. When she was around, they acknowledged her; when she was injured, they cared for her; when she needed them, they were there.

Being a member of the Dark Brotherhood was rewarding and she enjoyed it. Not necessarily because she enjoyed taking life. That had almost nothing to do with it. Almost. But ever since Karma had found herself alone in her early years, she'd longed to be a part of something bigger than herself…something that gave her an outlet for her not-so-healthy and violent cravings. The Brotherhood was the perfect place, each member holding similar moral values and dark secrets that molded them into who they were. Karma was certain that she would never find a place where the people were more tightly-knit.

But a rift had formed recently. Two months earlier, the Night Mother had arrived. While the dynamics of the Dark Brotherhood hadn't changed at all, there seemed to be a shadow that foretold of imminent change. And with the Night Mother came her Keeper: an Imperial named Cicero. Karma had been at the sanctuary when he'd arrived. His words had caught and held her interest, and cast doubt over her loyalty to Astrid. Loyalty that she realized was foolish in the ways of a naïve newcomer.

"But the Night Mother is mother to us all! It is her voice her follow, her will!"

It took so little for Karma to become enrapt. While she continued to listen to and obey Astrid without hesitation, she went against her leader's "suggestions" and sought out the company of the jester. He was a giggling, chattering mess, and many apples short of a pie, but one of the most interesting characters she'd ever met. And he was her access point to information about the mysterious Night Mother. She learned about the Dark Brotherhood before Astrid's rule, about the Five Tenets and the Morag Tong. She learned about the terrible things that had happened in Cyrodiil, the reason for the Night Mother's long journey. She learned about Cicero's duties as Keeper and the depressing lack of a Listener…

"I don't understand you, Karma," Babette said over an impromptu alchemy lesson, "Why on earth do you spend so much time with that guy?"

Karma could feel the eyes of the other members in the room on her—Nazir, Gabriella, Veezara—but she didn't bother to answer until she was finished grinding the plants in her mortar. She lifted her gaze to the face of the vampire child, choosing her words carefully,

"He's... interesting. There's little more to it than that." Her voice was often rough from underuse. Karma only spoke when spoken to directly or if she had a dire question. Seeing as it was wise to be silent on assassination missions, and Karma was almost always on a mission, speaking was an unneeded luxury. She still shared laughs and told stories of her successes with the others, but if there was nothing going on, the Redguard woman was completely silent.

"Interesting?" Nazir actually chuckled. "You find a madman interesting?"

Karma gave a nonchalant shrug, testing the consistency of the herbs in her mortar with the tip of her finger. Brushing the powder off on her tunic, she looked up at the other Redguard with a slight smile,

"There's no fault in him being a little farther gone than us. I'd wager that I'm farther gone than any of you~" she gestured to the each in the room in turn, "We all have our coping mechanisms. Insanity is his."

"What's that supposed to mean?" There was almost an offended edge in Babette's tone.

Karma slid back in her chair, picking her half-finished ale off the table, "I don't mean it to be a bad thing…but can you honestly say that there isn't a bit of madness in each of you? If you deny it, I'll call you a liar," she took a hesitant sip of her drink, "Because it's impossible to do what we do and be completely sane. Normal people can't stomach the idea of taking life in exchange for coin. But we're not normal. We have something they don't: a dark secret, a terrible past, something that makes us capable. We have motives they don't: revenge, hatred, or a simple craving to see others bleed…"

The room was awkwardly silent when she stopped talking. Karma swept a hand across her eyes and the faraway look was gone, the somber edge to her voice vanished,

"I'm just not strong enough to use insanity as my shield,"

Moving so far from home with the Night Mother had been a stressful event. Cicero had thought that settling into the sanctuary near Falkreath would be easy, but he wasn't met with what he expected. The leader was capable; but quite frankly, he despised her…just as he despised anyone who dishonored Mother. If the Night Mother hadn't needed a safe place he would have already sent her to meet the Dread Father. But his duty was to Mother, and so he kept himself under control and continued to search.

In his long journey from Bravil to Falkreath, he had tried and tried and tried to find a Listener for the Unholy Matron, but he had failed each time. No one seemed worthy of her voice. He was becoming frantic. Even within the small Skyrim Brotherhood, the Night Mother hadn't spoken to anyone, and the creeping cold of failure was really beginning to set in. If the Night Mother wouldn't speak…if he couldn't find the Listener…what was he good for?

But then again, there was that Redguard. Not the man, by Sithis no, but the woman…small and quiet and curious. She had been asking a lot of questions, doing a lot of listening. Perhaps, if he presented her to the Night Mother…But it was risky. Fool he may be, but Cicero was not unintelligent. The anger that Astrid had displayed when he'd said the Night Mother was above her had not got passed him. If the little Redguard girl was chosen by Mother, becoming the Listener would automatically place her on the top of the totem. With the Five Tenets abandoned, it would take only a swift and subtle knife thrust for the Listener to be gone. He had no doubt that if Astrid thought it would "protect her little Family" she would do away with the defective member. Only his position as Keeper was keeping him alive at this moment—he was well aware of that.

But the Unholy Matron needed a Listener, and the only one that seemed to be worth anything at all was the Redguard girl. Karma was her name, yes, with dark eyes and a blinding smile. The girl who had continuously sought out his company, listened to him chattering away about dearest Mother, asked him careful, personal questions. From the moment he'd seen her, Cicero had sized her up and measured her skills. He knew she was best with her bow, or else she wouldn't care for it like an infant. He knew she was right handed, as she wore a glove on her left and yet bore calluses on her palm and fingers—she must find it easier to pull the string of her bow with bare fingers, and therefore neglected the glove on that hand, even when using a sword. He could tell by the way she walked that she was surefooted; subconsciously measuring every step she took. He could tell by the way she always swept her gaze across a room upon entering that she was always aware of the people surrounding her and her exit routes. Cicero knew with certainty that she was a capable assassin. And he knew she was hiding something.

That little fact wouldn't matter much if she became the Listener. Of course, he couldn't force Mother to choose, but he had to give it a try. Cicero didn't feel an ounce of timidity approaching her, sliding his gloved fingers across her elbow in an almost intimate gesture to get her attention. Karma looked up at him, immediately questioning. After all, she always went to him, never the other way around.

"Hello, hello~" he greeted her with a smile, "Cicero has a question for dearest Karma, if you would be so kind as to offer a bit of time~?"

"Sure."

Oh, another thing Cicero had noticed. Her voice seemed to be reserved for him. He'd observed her elsewhere in the sanctuary around the other Dark Brothers and Sisters, and she spoke rarely. Not as if she disliked any of them, just that she didn't speak.

Cicero pushed the iron doors of the Night Mother's chamber shut easily. It was better if no one knew what was going on in here. He spun to face her, unable to contain the almost hysteric giggle that escaped him. Karma was looking up at the Night Mother's coffin,

"…what do you need?" she asked without hesitation, facing him.

Cicero closed some of the space between them, leaning in. Karma didn't lean away like anyone else would have. Her eyes wavered just slightly, obviously taking in his features—and it was an intriguing idea. It had been a long while since he'd had any intimate physical contact, and usually the jester's behavior scared other people away, but he could tell by the light in those chocolate colored eyes that she was interested. Interested how, he wasn't sure, but the interest was there. A darker, twisted part of him ordered him to act upon it, to take advantage of it…but no, he had to act for Mother…always for Mother…

"Cicero has a proposition for you~. Just an idea, a little suggestion. As you know, Cicero has been searching high and low, far and wide, for the Listener. It may not be so, of course, it's all up to dearest Mother but…Cicero would like to present you to her, to see if, perhaps, maybe she will speak to you?"

Karma was silent for several moments. Her gaze dropped and her face was a mask of contemplation, and for a minute Cicero thought she was going to refuse. But then she sighed heavily, letting out a long breath. She drew herself up again and nodded,

"If it'll ease your mind."

Neither the jester nor Cicero quite understood that comment, but the excitement swept away the confusion and he ushered her over to the coffin. At the back of his mind, he knew it might not work, Mother might not speak, but it was worth a try. He carefully unlocked the coffin and eased the doors open. He heard Karma's sharp intake of breath and glanced over his shoulder at her in question, but her eyes weren't on him. She was looking up at the Night Mother. It was the strangest thing…as he watched her, the light behind her eyes dimmed and her posture stooped slightly, her expression of surprise falling away.

"…Karma-?"

Cicero received no answer. The Redguard didn't even seem to hear him. He flitted around her, waving his hand in front of her face, poking her, and otherwise trying to rouse her—but to no avail. Somehow, it was terribly amusing. He could have slipped his dagger right between her ribs without a fight~. Oh, no…no, that wouldn't be a good idea. He forced himself to relax.

And then, suddenly, she came to. Karma shuddered hard and sucked in a desperate breath, and wobbled as if she would fall. She caught herself rapidly and Cicero heard her whimper. It was not a pained sound. It held more shock than pain.

"Helloooo~?" Cicero couldn't resist the urge to poke her again. His fingers slid along her ribs, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath her tunic. She wasn't wearing her armor…she rarely did when hanging about the sanctuary.

Karma squeaked in surprise and twitched away, swatting at his hands. Her eyes were wide when they met his and Cicero found himself surprised. She looked so…he wasn't sure how to name the emotion. Perhaps it was pure wonder, nothing more or less than awe.

But then she spoke, uttering a phrase that made his heart skip a beat.

"Cicero…Darkness rises when silence dies."

She spoke so quietly he almost missed it. She said it as it if were a precious secret, something that could only be shared with someone trusted. The words echoed through his skull, silencing every hint of thought. Those words…

The jester burst into hysterical laughter and Cicero couldn't help but to follow suit, feeling happiness unlike anything else rising up in his chest. He'd been right. She wasn't just any little Redguard. She was worthy of being the Listener! She'd spoken the Binding Words…words he'd been waiting to hear for so many years-!

"You fantastic woman! You beautiful fantastic woman!" his voice was squeaking upwards, loud enough for others to hear, but he couldn't care less. He wasn't a failure. He'd done his job and served Mother-! Even if Mother wouldn't speak to him…

"Hail Sithis, our Lady is back! The silence has been broken! The Night Mother has spoken! The Listener has been chosen!"

Cicero saw it for just a second—the fear beneath the swelling pride, naked emotion on Karma's face. And it occurred to him: he would have to protect Mother's Listener…the Listener…His Listener.