Author's Notes: This is going to be a short story, only four chapters are planned. I expect to do more short stories than long fics with The Winterhold Five being my last extended one. I also decided to put Cicero and KaNack together because I feel personally that its more fitting given how close he and the Keeper have become. If you don't like Cicero slash, don't read because this is how I wanted it to go.
The Dark Brotherhood's leader was now pushing three hundred years in age and should have stopped going out on missions long ago. The red and black assassin refused to though; so long as he could still walk and cast his spells, he would remain an active killer in the guild.
His contract involved no specifics in how the target was to meet his end save that he was to make it look like it had happened due to natural causes. The Dawnstar Sanctuary's Speaker, Vytalas, had made a point in giving KaNack the easier assassinations as the Listener grew older. A High Elf was his victim, a former member of the Thalmor; the Argonian had no qualms over ridding Tamriel of this Mer.
KaNack sucked in the cool night air as he silently picked at the lock of the cottage door. The house was out in the middle of nowhere, but that did not matter to him in the slightest. He had been given a contract and he was bound to send a soul to Sithis. The reptile grumbled as he continued to fumble with the tools, his wrinkled claws aching.
He longed for the old days when he was much stronger and the elements didn't affect him as severely as they did now. In fact, a lot of things were better when he was younger.
His wife, Brelyna, had left the Argonian centuries ago. She had only spent a few months trying to embrace the Dark Brotherhood family before her conscience got the better of her and she requested to leave under the promise she would never betray the Brotherhood. She had been as good as her word and the secrets of the assassins' guild never crossed her gray lips.
To present day she and KaNack remained good friends, but the romance they felt for one another had long since evaporated. It was only after her leaving that the mage found love in the most unlikely, but understandable of places. The Keeper and he had always been close and over time their relationship grew into something more breaking the barrier of friendship.
Cicero and KaNack had fifty years together before the time came and the Imperial had to make his final journey into the Void. This easily was the most painful and heart wrenching loss that the mage ever had to endure, but at least he had plenty of time to say his final goodbyes before the jester went 'home' in a way.
"Do you need help, Listener?"
Lucien, as always was there by his side and willing to help out whenever he was needed. The specter was his security blanket.
Since the passing of the Fool of Hearts, Lucien had become an almost constant companion to the Black Hand leader, being kept from the Void for weeks at a time. The Speaker made it a point to always be there for the conjurer and would always protect him; keeping him safe when death threatened to take him.
"Bah, I used to be able to pick a master lock within a minute," the mage remarked solemnly as he passed the tools on to the Spectral Assassin. The spirit went to work on the lock so that his caster would be able to have access to his prey.
"You're suffering from arthritis, the bitter chill in the air is making it more difficult for you," the ghost said, a small smile forming as he heard the familiar click.
Lachance moved to the side as KaNack nudged the door open, lowered to the floor and began to move silently into the cottage. The smell of mildew wafted from the wooden floors as the mage slithered over the planks, silent as he ever was. The Argonian paused when he noticed a faint glowing coming from one of the rooms in the residence; it appeared the Altmer was still awake. A chill ran down the Listener's spine as he felt the cool breath of his spiritual guardian on his neck. He did not mind, it only meant than his dear friend was close and keeping an ever watchful eye on him.
Peeking around the doorframe, the assassin could see the former Thalmor. He was seated at a desk, reading a tome by the dim light of the candle. He was old, even with the elven blood running in his veins, the Mer looked ancient and wrinkled. Vytalas had told the Argonian that the Atlmer was golden in years, but the caster had no idea that he would be taking the life of one who looked like he had been around for a few millennia.
"Finally, I was wondering when you would show up," the elf said, not even bothering to look up from his book as he motioned for the mage to approach. "Come closer, assassin for the Dark Brotherhood."
KaNack stirred and had an eerie sense of déjà vu. His tail brushed to the side and wrapped around the ethereal foot of his spirit. A hand rested on his shoulder and gave it a supportive squeeze before easing him forward. Lucien wanted him to approach the target; the ghost must have sensed something that he could not.
"Not many that know I am coming are as welcoming as yourself," the reptile uttered as he stepped into the room and stood before the Altmer with crossed arms. The Mer closed his book and smiled up at the aged caster.
"I am sure that most you have gone after aren't as old as myself." He took in KaNack's appearance and rubbed at his chin with a grin. "Well, look at you. The man who assigned you this task knew of my age, but I didn't expect him to send such an 'experienced' assassin to do the job." The Altmer rested his hands on a knee, further amused by the angry look being shot at him. "My name is Cirion. From whom do I have the pleasure of receiving the blessing of death?"
"I've made it a point to no longer hand out my name on assignment," the Argonian answered simply. "You may call me, 'Assassin'." He held out a clawed hand and a few sparks shot out from his fingers, but a grimace formed on the mage's face and he quickly stopped the casting.
"Yes, using magic hurts once you get to a certain point in life," Cirion observed sympathetically. "Even the mildest of spells ache when they run through brittle fingers." The High Elf stood up and approached the Listener. "What does a mage become when he is too ancient to cast spells?"
KaNack grumbled as he furrowed his wrinkled brow at the man. "One whom is not afraid to die it seems."
"Indeed," the Mer agreed. "You see, I was the only who hired the Dark Brotherhood."
"I'm sorry?" the Argonian remarked in surprise.
"I am tired of waiting for death to come to me."
"Ha," the caster laughed quietly as he turned to Lucien. "Leave it to the one eared fetcher to practically hand feed me these contracts." The reptile sighed heavily as he pointed towards the elf's bed. "Since we're apparently on good terms, would you mind if I sat down? As you so tactfully stated, I am quite an 'experienced' assassin." Cirion nodded and KaNack settled down on the foot of the bed.
A number of pops could be heard as the Listener stretched his arms over his head. "You're too kind." Thankful to be no longer standing on his feet, the reptile shot the Altmer a grin. "I will grant you the desire for an end. Since you've been so accommodating to me, I shall give the option of how you wish to leave this world. I do understand that you wanted it to look like there was no foul play involved."
"Any way that looks natural is fine if you can manage it," the Mer insisted as he returned to his seat by the desk. "My son will be coming to check on me tomorrow and I don't want him to think that I died by any nefarious means."
The Argonian fumbled through his satchel and pulled out a small red vial. "An old friend of mine was a very skilled alchemist and devised a poison that kills quickly and leaves no trace. Your son would never suspect a thing." KaNack frowned as he turned the bottle around in his claws. "May I ask why you are so tired of life?"
"Don't tell me you don't hate it too," Cirion answered simply. "Elves are granted extended lives already, but combine that with the magic flowing within there seems to be no end to our existence." The Mer rested his head on a palm as he continued. "I very rarely get to see my family except on the occasions they find themselves in Skyrim. Years pass by like minutes for me and I have buried far too many friends in that time. Surely as a fellow mage you can relate to that."
The Listener let out a sad groan as he thought about all the loved ones he had seen succumb to old age while he continued to linger on. Indeed the curse of prolonged life was not as kind a notion as many would perceive it to be; no matter how much one enjoyed living. "Yes, it has been painful. As much as you may find it ironic given my position, I have too much an appreciation for life to take my own."
"As do I, which is why I hired you," the elf replied with a smile. He reached for a basin of water and poured himself a glass. "Well, shall we get onto business then?"
The assassin tried to get off the bed, but found himself struggling as the mattress underneath him kept shifting as he tried to adjust his weight. "I think I might just be getting too old for this line of work, friend," the reptile admitted as he reached a hand out towards Lachance.
"The brothers and sisters have been telling you that for years," the spirit said as he clasped onto his caster's wrist and helped pull him to his feet.
"You know I don't listen to a word they say, Lucien." Once he was standing, the Argonian joined Cirion at the table and placed a few drops of the poison into his water glass. "The effects should take place very quickly, you shouldn't feel any pain," KaNack reassured the Altmer.
"Gods know I deserve a painful end," the Mer muttered as he stared into the glass that showed no signs of the water being tainted. "As a Thalmor I've done terribly things to the people of Skyrim. Many that did not deserve it."
"We've all done things we regret," the mage stated as he leaned against the wall which creaked against his weight. "The fact that you admit that you have wronged makes you a better person than most of the Thalmor I've come across."
Cirion chuckled quietly as he raised his glass to the assassin in a toast. "To redemption then." The Mer swallowed the water and placed the glass off to the side, returning his tired look to the Argonian before him. "I suppose this means that I am to go to the Void?"
"Yes, but you'd only suffer if you have wronged the Brotherhood. When you get there, you won't endure any torment, I promise you." The Listener rested a wrinkled clawed hand on the elf's shoulder. "No more pain for you."
"I thank you," Cirion whispered softly. The Altmer shut his eyes and was beginning to succumb to the poison. The assassin watched as the elf's breathing began to slow; the venom was working its way through the Altmer's veins and shutting down his muscles and organs. A few moments passed and Cirion's head tilted back alerting the Argonian that his contract was complete.
"All hail Sithis." KaNack stepped away from the body and turned to Lucien with crossed arms. "Lachance, would you mind placing him in his bed? I want the man's son think that he died in his sleep. I'd do it myself, but…"
"No need to explain yourself, Listener." The spirit bowed politely to his caster and went to work transporting the light and frail body of the High Elf. The Speaker threw the heavy fur skinned blanket over the corpse and returned to the reptile's side. KaNack eyes were half lidded and he hadn't moved from his spot by the wall. "You look tired."
"I'm always tired these days," the Dark Brotherhood leader sighed. "Let's go home."
KaNack and Lachance left the cottage, locking the door behind them. They found Shadowmere grazing in the distance, loyally waiting for her owner to return. The demonic mare's ears pricked up at the sound of a faint whistle floating across the air like a breeze. Letting out a snort, the steed trotted to the Argonian and waited as the mage changed back into the common mage shrouds that he had stored in a bag attached to her saddle.
The Spectral Assassin had to assist the conjurer as he struggled to get up onto her back. Her rider was not as spry as he once was; gone were the days where he could literally leap up onto Shadowmere's back and they'd be off. The horse had learned to be patient though and would remain in place as long as needed.
The Argonian took the reins as Lucien climbed up so that he was sitting behind him. "Farra…" KaNack stopped in midsentence. "Let's just take it easy on the way home, girl." A gentle nudge to her sides and the mare took off in a brisk run rather than her usual breakneck speed.
The moons were full, lighting the way around them as they traveled through the cool night towards Dawnstar. Lachance could sense that something about his caster was off, but he didn't want to think about just what it was. He had a sense of what was coming, but bringing it up would only upset them both. They had only ridden for an hour before Lachance noticed that they were passing a small inn and the mare was heading towards it.
"Listener?"
"I'm too tired to make the trip tonight, Lucien," the assassin muttered solemnly. "It's far too cold; I'd rather spend the night in a warm bed than a bedroll."
This only furthered Lachance's suspicions, but he tried to be more optimistic; that was why he did not argue with the aged reptile. It was not until they got closer that the spirit realized where they were to spend the night and could not help but smile. It was the Nightgate Inn, where as a younger assassin, his Listener had killed the Gourmet with a poisoned apple.
"I remember this place too, Buddy," KaNack chuckled as he reached down to pat Shadowmere on her neck. "You always seemed to get your way, even when I was stubborn as a mule."
The Spectral Assassin jumped down and assisted the Black Hand leader off of the mare's back. Allowing the mage to wrap an arm around him, he helped the Argonian up the small flight of stairs and into the Nightgate Inn.
"By the Eight!" a voice cried out. The Listener laughed quietly and motioned for the innkeeper to relax.
"Ease yourself, friend. My spirit is a kind soul and will do you no harm less you wish me ill," the mage assured the man as Lachance continued to help him towards the front desk where the startled innkeeper was standing.
"I'm sorry," the Nord muttered, still giving the Speaker a wary look. "It's just that I thought for a moment that my building had become haunted. That wouldn't be very good for business, now would it?"
"Some of the best people I know are dead." The mage patted Lucien on his chest and smiled at the keeper as he dropped a small bag of coin on the desk. "I am cold and exhausted. Do you think you can let an old man and his specter have a room for the night?"
"Oh, of course," he stuttered as he swiped up the offered gold. "Sleep anywhere you like, we don't have any guests currently. It's just me and the missus. If you need anything just give me a holler, the name is Jesper."
"Thank you, Jesper," the assassin muttered quietly. The ghost took it upon himself to lead his fatigued caster into one of the rooms and kicked the door closed behind him.
"The innkeeper should consider himself fortunate that the building is not haunted. People have died here as you are very much aware," he chuckled darkly.
"Hush, Buddy."
The mage slid himself into the bed and released a contented sound as he nuzzled into the soft pillow. "There was a time where I could ride for days straight with no rest." The assassin smirked as he felt a warm blanket get thrown over him. "What would I do without you?"
"Died centuries ago, I know that much," the ghost laughed quietly as he took a seat in the chair that was beside the conjurer's bed. KaNack's pale white eyes opened and he beamed at his spiritual guardian. As old as the mage had gotten over the years, Lucien could see that his eyes always remained as bright and full of life as they ever were.
"I keep thinking about what that Mer said," KaNack frowned. "Lingering with a prolonged life as friends and loved ones pass on." The mage shook his head as he wrapped his arms around the pillow. "Many have died while I continue to live. Tullius, J'Zargo, Nazir, Dro'marash, Kaie…" The mage paused and looked sadly at the floor.
"The former Keeper," the spirit finished for him.
"Yes," he choked out.
The Speaker reached forward to rest a comforting hand on the mage's shoulder. The reptile reached out from under the blanket to grasp at the hand. "I know that Wood Elf, Ardwen, is the Keeper, but I just cannot bring myself to call her that. She was chosen and trained by him, but I can't consider calling anyone but him the Keeper."
"You loved him. It's understandable," Lachance sympathized. "What you and Cicero had was powerful. Something much more pure and eternal. You must remember that you have many fond memories to look back upon when you think of him though."
The spirit was relieved when he saw the smile returned to KaNack's face, even though the tears were still being shed.
"Cicero always made me laugh, even when I was the foulest of moods and didn't want to speak to anyone. He would dance, sing and poke at me until he finally pulled me out of my mood. He could never stand to see me unhappy." The reptile sighed contently. "He also was kind and gentle. We quarreled as all people do, but in the end we would always forgive each other. Unlike Brelyna, he knew what I was and embraced it. I never had to hide the real me from my Keeper." The smile was then gone again. "Then came that horrible day when he had to go somewhere I could not follow." KaNack swallowed before continuing. "Bless him, he was dying but he was still doing his damnedest to make me laugh."
"He was a jester to the bitter end," the Speaker insisted simply.
"He told me, 'Don't cry, Listener! If you cry, poor Cicero will cry too and a fool should leave the world with a smile!'" The mage shook his head. "Damn him, he made me laugh right before he died. He had that smirk of his imprinted on his face, frozen in a permanent state of mirth." The Argonian released a shaky breath. "I have laughed since then, but not like before Cicero died. No one could ever make me laugh the way he did."
"My Listener?"
"That's why I keep myself busy with these contracts," the reptile confessed. "Not because I want to, but I have to. When I am on the hunt, I forget for a brief moment that Cicero is gone. Killing keeps me from dying inside." He squeezed Lucien's hand tightly. "Even after two centuries, every time I return to the sanctuary I expect to see him dancing over to greet me." A tear crawled down his scaled cheek. "He doesn't though. He's not there…he's never there."
"One day you will see him again," Lachance assured the grieving assassin.
"Will he still love me? Can one even still be in love in the Void? Will Cicero even be the same?" the Argonian asked sadly. "Those years of isolation in Cheydinhal altered him, Lucien. I fear that when we do see one another again that he won't be the person I fell in love with. You told me yourself that Cicero seemed different when you saw him."
"Yes," Lachance stated grimly. "Love, however, is an emotion that is guided by one's heart, not his mind. Those years in Cheydinhal did not affect the Keeper's heart."
That bit of information did bring the older reptile a welcoming sense of comfort and relief. "Thank you."
The Speaker grimaced as he suddenly felt himself feeling faint. He knew what was happening and his suspicions had been confirmed. "You're very tired, Listener," the ghost said. "You should try and get some rest; you have a big day ahead of you."
"We're just going home, aren't we?"
"Yes," the ghost answered sadly. "We're going home."
The Argonian yawned and shut his eyes, but kept Lachance's hand gripped in his. "By Sithis, I don't think I've ever felt this drowsy before."
"Sleep," the Speaker insisted. "I will be right here by your side."
"Night, Buddy," the mage uttered quietly, his voice slightly muffled from the pillow.
"Goodnight, my Brother."
KaNack fell asleep and the Spectral Assassin remained settled in his chair, never taking his eyes off the Argonian for a second. He should have felt sad, but he knew that this day had to come eventually. The chapter of KaNack the mage was coming to an end and a new one was about to begin with the Dunmer Vytalas. There would be great mourning amongst the assassins, but the Dark Brotherhood would continue to thrive as it always had.
It was by the will of Sithis that the Speaker returned to the caster with the promise that as long as he managed to keep the Listener alive, he would be allowed to come to Tamriel's plane when called.
For more than two hundred and fifty years, he had protected and served the red and black mage to the best of his ability. Lucien had seen him grow from a young impatient assassin into the seasoned killer he was today.
The specter was there when he was betrayed by Astrid and when he was mourning the loss of his Imperial lover. Throughout all the years, KaNack had never treated him as anything less than his equal. Because of the Dark Brotherhood leader, the name Lachance was once again known and revered by all the Brothers and Sisters across Tamriel. If this was to be his final conjurer before being banished permanently to the Void, the Speaker was glad it had been him. The Argonian was his Listener, his Brother and most importantly his friend.
Lachance had done the best he could and guarded the reptile's life as though he were his own flesh and blood, but there were some things that even the Spectral Assassin couldn't protect his caster from.
The ghost stirred as he felt himself became weightless and noticed that his form was beginning to slowly fall into ash. The Listener was gone, but Lucien could not help but smile as he looked out the window to see the land of Tamriel one last time before being sent to the Void. He had kept his promise; KaNack did not die alone.
The following morning the innkeeper went outside to fetch water from the well, but was shocked when he noticed that the black mare that had been there the previous night had vanished.
"Damn it! That old man isn't going to be happy about this!" Jesper exclaimed. He hurried back into the Nightgate Inn and knocked on the Argonian's door. "Sir? Sir, I am sorry to wake you, but your horse seems to have run off. Would you like me to send for a carriage?"
The innkeeper waited for a response, but received none.
"Can you hear me? I said your horse is gone!"
More silence. The man muttered to himself as he opened the door. If he refrained from alerting the elder reptile to the situation, the Argonian might take offense and order the ghost to attack him. Once he was inside, the Nord was slightly taken aback by the scene before him.
The red and black lizard seemed to still be asleep, but by his bedside was a smoking pile of blue ash. Jesper could only assume that it had been the old man's spirit. He made his way over to the bed and gently patted the Argonian's leg. "Hey, I need you to wake up, friend."
The Nord frowned when he still failed to get a response. The man leaned forward and pressed two fingers along the red skin of the reptile's throat and grimaced. "Damn, poor fellah. Guess time finally caught up to you. Don't worry; I'll make sure you get a proper burial."
Jesper began to fumble through the Argonian's satchel; not that he meant to be disrespectful, but only because he felt that there might be something on him that would alert him to his identity. Otherwise he'd have to end up burying the man in an unmarked grave in the local cemetery. The man frowned when he felt something round and metal and pulled out a golden amulet. He stared at it for a few moment and his eyes widened. "By Shor's beard…Haran!"
The innkeeper's wife hurried over to the door and poked her head in.
"What's wrong?"
Jesper sped over to her and showed her the pendent that had the Eye of Winterhold engraved into it with an Imperial dragon in the pupil. "I read stories about this in my youth! This is an amulet of the Winterhold Five!"
The two turned back to look at the body.
"My gods, if he's an Argonian and that was in his possession; that makes him…"
"The arch mage of Winterhold and the Dragonborn," the man finished sadly. "We have to send word to Winterhold and fast. Get my horse ready."
The woman hurried to get her husband's steed prepared for the long journey to Winterhold. There was to be great mourning amongst the members of the college as well as the residents of Skyrim.
Jesper sighed as he took a seat in the empty chair by the Argonian's bed. "I am saddened that you have left us, Dragonborn. You were a legend; we were honored to have kept you dry and warm in your final moments. I hope wherever your soul has gone that you are happy."
