(A/N: Ahh! Hello everyone. I've often wondered what Cicero's life was life pre-Skyrim, and after reading his journals I decided to simply make one up myself. Please enjoy. I love reviews/ follows/ favorites, and feedback makes me smile. Thank you for taking the time to read my ramblings and I hope I can keep continuing this story if it's liked.)

Cicero's Journal

Twenty-sixth of Evening Star

Fourth Era, year 186

It's late and I believe this day has just begun, the first or second hour signaled by the moon at its peak in the dotted, dark sky. We are said to receive a new initiate soon, so quickly after I've joined we seem to be growing in numbers. It is needed, but I wonder if it's so quickly necessary. I have been an assassin for longer than I have not; but I still feel the strain of the family growing too big or perhaps have too many heads controlling the decisions being made here. Rasha, however, seems to know what he is doing as the leader here at Cheydinhal.

I have filled a few contracts since my first journal entry and, if I may say so myself, I have done them quickly and well. A few flicks of my knife and with silent feet, my victims hardly know they have died before the hit the ground. It is oddly… satisfying and empowering to be able to deliver Sithis's wrath upon a mortal with my own blade.

The Night Mother gives contracts every day now. The Dark Brotherhood will never rest, even if we may be weakened. I pray to Sithis I will never live to see the day my family falls.

I gently blew on the ink still wet from my quill, fanning the creamy pages with slight annoyance as some thick lines of letters refuse to dry. The paper furled gently, and I closed my leather bound journal, pushing it to the side of my wooden desk with a quick glace towards the door. Gentle footsteps padded down the hallway, and I stood from my chair, pulling my door open to see Rasha's yellow eyes settle on me, his gaze always certain and direct. This was a man who knew what he was doing at all times and never strayed from his point and for that I respected him.

"The new one has arrived to the care of our sanctuary." Out of the corner of my eyes, I could see the Khajiit's gray tail flip slightly at his own words.

"She is… worse for wear." His upper lip pulled up slightly in distaste, revealing thin fangs at the corners of his lip when his whiskers quivered momentarily.

I raised a dark brow, pushing back my hood to allow my loose red hair to fall to my shoulders.

"Already? My Speaker, perhaps she is not worthy of this station."

"She is capable; but young. The reason for her injury is my own foolishness. I instructed her to meet me with no weapons, and she obeyed without question. She made it, however…"

His yellow gaze darted to the side, and I saw the muscles of the bridge of his nose pull up in somewhat of a snarl.

"Nevermind it. I have other things to do; come and meet here whenever you please, Cicero. I will take my leave."

Hastily, I nodded. "Thank you, my Speaker."

Rasha turned on his heel and promptly strode down the dark hallway, into the darkness of the main room. I heard a shuffling, the voice of a concerned Evanet floating down the stone brick of the Sanctuary.

"I don't know why you've made her risk this, Rasha. This was foolish."

A sweet, sad sounding voice piped up after a thick hesitation. "I'm fine, really. It just aches a bit." Her accent was lilting, and I craned my neck to better hear the new one speak.

"Well, naturally. Imp bites don't feel like sunshine."

Instead of backlash, I heard new, musical laughter echo through the halls. "No, no they don't."

And for the first time in my days at Cheydinhal, I heard Rasha laugh and mean it. The sound made my hands shake with nervousness. Something here was wrong.

Cicero's Journal

Thirtieth of Evening Star

Fourth Era, year 186

The new assassin arrived to our care near dusk of the twenty-sixth of Evening Star; a Dumner with keenly pooling dark eyes and ebony hair to match. With curved, full lips and an easy laugh, she is not the first image that comes to the mind's eye when you think of an assassin. I am lead to believe that Rasha has taken an interest in her which isn't strictly business-like. I know we are a family in this hall, but he looks at her like a lover. Her name is Lithina Viyas and I hope she does not serve as a distraction to our Speaker. We have takings of life to attend to, and I would not take to it kindly if that was interrupted so quickly after my arrival here at the Hall.

She hasn't been given a contract yet, but insists she is ready for one. The bites to her thin arms are nasty and still shine with blood under the guise of new pinky but dust grey skin she's grown from healing spells. The Dunmer appears to be quick on her feet and even quicker with a blade. She's perhaps only just seen her twentieth winter.

I don't expect much from her.

I let slip my blade yesterday morning and I did it well. A vagrant with a penchant for skooma in trouble with a Redguard tavern owner who had the stomach to perform the Black Sacrament… The client wanted his heart, so I gave it to her. Breaking ribs with my bare hands as he still breathed and screamed is not something I will ever easily forget. I enjoyed it thoroughly.

I didn't remember getting up from my perch and walking down into the main room of Cheydinhal. I also didn't remember why I sat down in a circle with my family, casually passing around bottles of alto wine and mead that had the slight hint of apples to it. Six of us sat there right on the floor, swapping stories into the night, sharing laughter with each other until my sides hurt from chuckling. Life in this place was not bad; in fact I was starting to truly feel like a family here, despite the losses we all shared and the lives we secretly ached for, we were drawn together here in this moment.

Rasha's eyes were only for Lithina, sneaky and quickly looking to her as she laughed and spoke a bit every now and again to give input or to simply make a sarcastic comment that made the rest laugh in turn. After she finished chuckling at Garnag's story about a terrible misunderstanding about a pound of moon sugar in Hammerfell, I quickly glance to the Dunmer just in time to see her casually flip her hair. Her pretty face lifted, and she gave me a small, nervous smile before blinking thick eyelashes. I felt a bit of heat flash to my face, and Rasha's bright eyes were on me in an instant. The Khajiit's smile faded quickly, and I could almost see the sudden shift in his bright eyes that warned me still. Around this unacknowledged glance, the rest of my family still joked and laughed.

The hair on the back of my neck stood, and I uneasily looked away from my Speaker. This would become dangerous very quickly if something wasn't done.

My flow of tumultuous thought was interrupted when Evanet leaned forward to peck Ram-Ju right on green, scaled lips, causing him to laugh with slight alarm as the Breton laughed uproariously, joined by the rest of the brotherhood.

Out of the corner of my eyes, I could see Rasha seethe again as Lithina took a swallow of mead and blinked at me over the flagon, a smile uncurling across her dusky face. I smiled back, the corner of my lips pulling up almost as a reflex.

This could be interesting if I played my hand right.

Cicero's Journal

Thirty-first of Evening Star

Fourth Era, year 186

Distractions worry me.

I read over the hastily scribbled words I'd written in my journal. My hand had been heavy, and the point of my quill had dug heavily into the parchment in places, ripping through the thin layers and down to the next page. With a sigh, I closed the cover sharply and pressed my forehead to the leather, my shoulder slumping.

I was so tired. My eyes were grainy and hot from exhaustion, yet I could not sleep due to the worry echoing inside my head.

Today had been Lithina's first contract. She was back within five hours, with blood across her lips and up to her left elbow. She'd walked into the main hall with a somber expression only to catch my gaze. Her lips quirked into a smile, and I felt my jaw loosen as she pulled back her hood to shake loose her long hair.

And then she licked her lips free of dried, rusty blood unthinkingly. I was undone. I felt myself swallow reflexively, and her hand went to her hip. She took measured steps over to me, pulling out the chair to my side before hesitating momentarily.

"Cicero, is this seat taken?"

"No, it's quite free."

She smiled, dark eyes dancing, and pulled the wooden chair out to perch in it, poised and natural as I tried my damnedest not to shake like a leaf next to her. She leaned towards me, her small, pointed chin resting in her left hand.

"Is it true you bit the heart out of a target's chest?"

I laughed at the question, tears quickly building in my eyes at the unexpected words. "Oh, no my dear. I simply cut it out of his ribs."

She seemed slightly momentarily disappointed. "Oh. Why?"

I shrugged. "The client wanted a gruesome death, and she also wanted his heart. I don't ask; I just do."

We talked long into the night. I found myself edging towards her and her to me, so close I could feel her breath touching my face. After hours of this torturous game, she finally gave me an easy smile and stood from her chair, excusing herself for the night.

I quickly apologized, and she held her hand out to me.

I took it, standing, and held my arm for her to take. Lithina stared at me for a quick second, and then took it with a huge grin unfolding on her face.

Escorting her down the hallway, she blushed like a girl as I bid her a long winded and good-natured farewell. She thanked me for humoring her and her fingers gently brushed my skin, the heat folding through the fabric of my robe. Upon arriving at her sleeping chambers near the end of the dark hallway, she let my arm go and pulled closer to me as I looked on in surprise.

With warm lips, she pressed a soft kiss to the hard line of my cheek.

"Thank you, Cicero. You are truly a gentleman."

With a dark hand, she tugged the end of my loose red hair playfully and entered her room, shutting the door gently behind her.

The breath ran out of me, the heat draining out of my face as I heard Rasha's telltale footsteps at the other end of the dark hallway.

I shouldn't be doing this.

Hastily, I pulled my hood around my face and strode back to the table, swiping a bottle of mead before taking off towards my room. This would be a long night.