A/N: So, I realized that I wrote a whole bunch and this chapter is almost along the lines of 2,000 words. It really seems like a lot to read. Too much to read, in fact. I'd appreciate it if someone let me know if I should break my chapters down a bit. I have a specific plan for the direction of the story but I'm flexible about length and such. Something tells me that this story is gonna be a long one, in part because I love all the characters and can't help but digress and in part because I have had writer's block for over three years and it's finally gone!

Chapter 1: Only a Jest

Dagger twirling in her hands, vein pulsating from her forehead and eyes pulled into slits spitting venom, Cicero was getting on Fontina's last nerve. His little 'display of respect' at the inn, as he called it, earned her quite a bit of unwanted attention from the guards and almost cost her a kill in Falkreath. His stupid little ditties almost botched her sneak attack and overtook her thoughts as he sang them over and over on the way back to the Sanctuary. Above all, he had refused to leave her side since and was currently rummaging through an old chest of hers from her early days in the Brotherhood, probably messing up what little of her past life she kept in there.

"Oh, Listener! Listener! Such pretty, pretty dresses you own! You must look very, very pretty in them, no doubt. For the mighty, great and all-powerful Listener, savior of the Dark Brotherhood, slayer of many is really the most beautiful woman in allllllll of Tamriel! Next to the ravishing Night Mother, of course!"

'Oh, here we go…' Fontina inwardly groaned. She hated compliments. Even compliments on her prowess in battle were annoying. And, of course, Cicero knew that and was definitely prepared to exploit that.

It wasn't the first time that Cicero had sent her into a fit of sizzling anger and it most certainly wouldn't be the last but it was more of a habit than anything between the two since the start of their travels together. It was a game: to see if he could get her to smile or get her to spar with him. Neither seemed to be on the horizon, though. Fontina had work to do.

"But, ah, Cicero knows! Understanding Cicero understands! It is no wonder you never put them on. Wouldn't want to stain them with anything…say, thick and…red from your travels! And Cicero doesn't speak of wine, you know!" Cicero chuckled, sprawling Fontina's old tunics and gowns across her bed.

"The lady chants and lady laughs when a gentleman does knock!

But when my blade runs through her frock, the lady gasps and strains to talk!"

Fontina didn't even bother to turn around. Seeing the messy state of her newly furnished room might send her into a rage she probably couldn't control.

It had cost her a pretty penny to refurnish the old, dilapidated Dawnstar Sanctuary. The place was vast and practically endless, torn apart by expected age and a more so unexpected troll. Nearly every coin she made from the slaying of the Emperor went into Delvin Mallory's grubby pocket, but Fontina wasn't complaining. The place looked better than any palace or hall she'd ventured into once he was through with it and she was satisfied that she decided to trust him despite his past dealings with Astrid. Anything involving Astrid understandably left Fontina more than slightly guarded, despite the woman's repentant attitude at her death. One could never know if there were any loose ends she'd forgotten to tie up.

A clank from her bedside almost made her turn around but again she checked herself, toying with the dagger a bit more. Cicero had found her collection of amulets. Oh joy.

"Cicero, leave those be. If I so much as notice a scratch on any one of my amulets, I might slip in a contract on you to one of the new recruits." Fontina warned. As she spoke, a few missives stacked together sat beside her on the table. She was really supposed to be organizing and verifying them before handing them over to Nazir, but instead she was stuck babysitting.

"My Listener is no fun at all!" He pouted, twisting an Amulet of Talos around his finger. "But it would be a lot of fun for Cicero to have a new…hmm…toy to play around with!

"You shouldn't underestimate them. Nazir has gotten better at picking some new blood. The tests have been made more rigorous. Oh and Babbette has also brought in a few good killers too, though I had to ask her not to turn some of them into thralls. She probably didn't have this problem with Astrid…"

"Ha, and the glorious Listener cut her down! You worry over nothing. All the power and glory she wanted to keep from you now sit at your fingertips." Cicero grinned, an Amulet of Dibella laced through his fingers and an Amulet of Arkay decorating the top of his jester hat..

Fontina looked over to her Blade of Woe, carelessly tossed next to a few trinkets on her desk. It was a useful weapon indeed, but she was wary to use it after it's run in with Astrid's heart.

"She told me I was part of the family but didn't hesitate to throw me to the wolves. Were it not for her foolish actions, and were it not for my arrival, our family might've been…I don't know. Perhaps in better shape than it is now?"

"Astrid's path only led to ruin. Without the Listener, the Brotherhood is nothing. You saved the Dark Brotherhood. You murdered the Emperor. You brought purpose back to all of us, especially those led astray. The fact that you are still here shows your true value. You must know how important you are."

Fontina turned to look at his face, her gray eyes searching for something real. For a moment, she could swear she almost saw something in Cicero's eyes that could be considered concerned…and serious. It wasn't new to find Fontina questioning her worth in the world but it was certainly a new thing to have someone try to make her feel better. She offered a bit of a smile and nodded her head. Maybe there was still something human in him after all? But with a characteristic whoop and a shifting of gaze from one spot to another, Fontina realized yet again that she was still conversing with a madman.

"Mother? Mother, is that you I hear? Ah! It's mother! Mother! Oh, dearest mother! Are you calling me? Say something once more! Let poor Cicero hear your voice as the Listener does!" he cried, only to be met with no reply.

At least the mess wasn't as bad as she'd initially thought. Yet, anyway.

Fontina turned around and decided to finally begin her work. Now that she was around to converse with the Night Mother, there was really no need to pick up contracts in the old way. Those performing the Black Sacrament were now heard and answered but there were still few who weren't into the dramatics of the ritual and sent their business through couriers and contacts. Part of Fontina thought it would be wise to ignore them but Nazir suggested otherwise and the Night Mother gave no protest as long as the contacts she gave were heard. Business was booming on both ends after the Emperor's death. So much so that she had to neglect her other duties and titles to stay close to the Brotherhood for a while.

"Ah, Looky look at what we have here! Oh ho ho! An Amulet of Mara!"

Fontina seemed frozen at the mention. She was positively ill at the mention. Her hands refused to move, her eyes refused to blink and she swallowed a huge lump in her throat that held back a burst of emotion. She didn't know what to feel and she didn't know how to react but...it had been so long since she'd seen it or even remembered it. She took care long ago to forget.

"A real treasure! Haha! A real treasure, indeed."

"I was a mage. It was once…very useful." Her voice was beginning to crack.

"Does the Listener peg Cicero for a fool? Haha! Well, that is not entirely truthful. My Listener knows she is not partial to using her Magika! And my Listener knows she need not lie…perhaps she was once hoping to tie the knot around something other than a noose. Ha, a blushing bride, longing for a bond of matrimony! How precious." he taunted.

"Let. It. Go." She seethed through her teeth. But the amulet swung in his grasp. Back and forth, almost hypnotizing. Her stomach turned and she tightened her grip on the dagger she once played with.

"The Listener waits to hear bells of wedding, but bells of mourning she hears,

A maiden in jewels all smirks and smiles runs down the aisle in tears!"

The dagger flew across the room faster than the eye could see, but Cicero knew to quickly turn his head. The near fatal strike of force and precise perfection only left a thin line of blood trailing across his cheek and his jester hat pinned to the headboard. He would have surly been killed in an instant were he not a seasoned assassin himself.

"CICERO!"

Fontina shot up from her seat at her desk, pulling the dagger from the headboard and snatching the swinging amulet out of his grasp. It was rare for her to raise her voice. It had taken the attack at the sanctuary in Falkreath to even get her to break her initial silence and converse freely with the others. But, to her credit, not one lone tear broke her glare. Not a grimace or a twitch. But there was pain in her eyes that could drive one to end many lives, including their own. And those eyes were glued to the amulet that moved to and fro in front of her.

"Some of us do not have the luxury of losing their minds when they've lost all else. You don't know anything. And above all, you know nothing of pain. Fool." She hissed, stuffing it into her pocket.

Babbette crept into the room, hugging the doorframe. It wasn't out of fear or cautiousness but there was a certain childlike nature in her that just led her to take such actions. No one forgot who or what she was exactly, but they knew that in simple terms she was a child who never was allowed to grow up.

"Fontina, my dear. Are you alright?" She inquired.

Fontina dropped her gaze to the floor in embarrassment and took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry, Babbette. I shouldn't have shouted. I'm just a bit…stressed out is all." Fontina replied.

"Cicero, do be careful not to drive our Listener into a madness comparable to yours. It is already unsettling enough with your constant pranks. Two Ciceros would be highly unfavorable." Babbette chided, reaching for Fontina's hand.

"Cicero only jests!" he grinned with an innocent pout.

"Nazir was just looking for you. The last of the improvements have been made to the torture chamber. Archaic thing, it is, but since it was the last to be fixed I'd thought you'd want to see it. Would you come with me, please?" Fontina wordlessly nodded and walked away with her.

Alone, Cicero reached up and tried to wipe the blood off of his cheek. The cut stung him, but there was a stinging elsewhere he couldn't name. He wanted to wipe it away, wipe it clean but it still stained his fingers. Just like the blood. Typical. Some things never change. He closed his eyes. And then the silence began. No laughter. No tears. No words of joy or malice or welcoming or parting. Nothing. Just silence.

And then he wanted to hear the Night Mother speak. He wanted to curse his Listener. The insolent little bitch knew nothing of pain and he wanted to show her. He wanted the Listener dead and gone so that he could be Listener, just as he'd wanted before.

But then he didn't want that at all. He didn't want to hear himself think such things because he was glad to have the Listener. He was glad to know that there even was a Listener and that the Brotherhood could continue and that he could follow her and hear her laughter among all else.

And then he laughed and laughed, shaking in his laughter. He had to. It was the only way to push the silence away.