A/N: Wolf Queen Awakens is finished which means I can write OTHER THINGS! Hurrah! Anyway, here we are, back in the universe where the gods had a bit of a nervous breakdown and evil won the Dragonborn is not a heroic young Nord trying to save her country but a psychotic little fruitloop with an unhealthy love of blood. I have missed writing him as a protagonist - seeing him from the outside does mean I can't go into his characterisation as much. But here, we get Cicero in all his bloodthirsty glory. And there's a lot of him in this chapter. Enjoy!

Summary: A new job for the Brotherhood means Cicero has work to do. And it's not just Cicero. Just as Dawnstar thought they could relax, the summons from the Listener will have implications for one of their own.


Cicero by contrast had had a very relaxing morning. He didn't remember a lot of last night, everything after the fight had got a bit hazy. There'd been singing and dancing, possibly on a table with Ria, possibly falling off it and landing on Vilkas, and then an overwhelming feeling of sadness, and being carried off by his Listener – no, Listener wasn't that burly. Had it been Farkas? No, no, the scent was wrong and the hair silver – Papa?

Cicero hoped so. His relationship with his father was... complicated. Cicero remembered his father's proud smile and comforting arms before he'd known about the Dark Brotherhood bit... then the rejection and anger that had followed. The last few months had been an awkward dance of trying to make up for it, but Cicero could never do the one thing that would really please Kodlak no matter how hard he tried. But try he did anyway, and to be fair Kodlak did care in his own way. He just didn't approve. And it hurt. Cicero was a hero, a Dragonborn, saviour of the world! Twice! And still his father didn't love him just because Cicero had stabbed a lot of people. Honestly, wasn't like Kodlak had never killed anyone.

But it was how it was, and Cicero still loyally visited every other week or so to take Jorrvaskr jobs, say hello and summon his mother's spirit so his parents could see each other. And Kodlak's reaction on seeing him had changed from grudging to an awkward pat on the back to laughing despite himself at Cicero's more lawful exploits to cheering Cicero on in sparring matches with Vilkas to actually seeming pleased to see him and even worrying a little. There'd even been hugs, and that time Cicero had had flu but snuck out of Sky Haven Temple anyway, doped up to the eyeballs on traditional Reach remedies, somehow getting to Jorrvaskr without really recalling how and collapsing as soon as he got in the door. He'd spent a week there being looked after by Tilma and Kodlak, both of whom scolded him for leaving the house in that state, couldn't he have just written and said he was ill? Then Delphine had turned up and snapped at him, but also agreed he was too poorly for a long journey back. And Cicero had snuggled up to her and whispered he was sorry, he was, but he'd promised Kodlak, he had, and Delphine had whispered he was an idiot, Kodlak would have understood if he was ill, and now Kodlak was going to be put to the trouble of caring for him for a week until he was feeling better. Cicero had been sorry, he really had, but on the other hand, Kodlak had been kind to him and brought him potions and food and stroked his hair and told him he was glad to see him. He'd even told him stories and unlike children's stories, Kodlak could leave the gory bits in. It had been nice! It had been fun. Cicero had felt loved. And since then, things had been better and Kodlak had been kind to poor Cicero and Cicero had liked that and been affectionate right back.

But all the same, Cicero could tell Kodlak didn't entirely approve, or regretted he'd never been able to direct Cicero on a different path, and it couldn't help but bother Cicero, that his father couldn't just love him anyway. But it seemed his father may have comforted him last night and tucked him up in bed, which was unexpected but nice, very nice.

And so here he was, up, about, a bit fuzzy but awake, sitting in his motley out in the Keep's main room, carefully drinking tea and sipping some Reachman broth with bread and cheese on the side, letting the alchemical talents of the Reachmen revive him while his lovers were still sleeping.

"Are you all right there, Dragonborn?" That was one of the guards, Rhodri ap Ieuan of Karthspire if Cicero recalled correctly.

"Yes thank you!" Cicero chirped. "Cicero is very tired still, but the broth is making him feel much better! But Cicero is feeling rather lonely and Eola and the Listener are still asleep. Have you seen any of the Companions this morning?"

"Nah. Still nursing hangovers," Rhodri smirked. "All the cocktails were too much for them. Nords just can't hold their booze."

Nords had no idea how to drink properly in Cicero's point of view but all the same, it turned out they were his kin so he felt obliged to pout a bit.

"But Cicero's papa is old and frail, he might appreciate a bit of reviving soup. So might pretty Ria who is not even a Nord. They might like it if someone took some broth to them. And Cicero is too fragile to do it himself. Also Cicero has been repeatedly told he is not to creep into their bedrooms while they are asleep and bother them, especially when they have hangovers. Cicero would hate to be a bother."

Rhodri gritted his teeth and looked as if he'd dearly like to tell Cicero what the Companions could do with their hangovers and that furthermore Kodlak might be old but frail he was not... but Cicero was Dragonborn and the Reachmen knew what else he was too. So Rhodri sighed and gave in.

"Fine. I'll have someone walk outside their rooms with some hot broth, and if they're interested they can come out and have some. If they're still asleep or can't be arsed to get up, that's their problem."

"Thank you, Rhodri!" Cicero trilled, knowing he'd won and surely someone soon would be up and about and ready to keep poor Cicero company.

He was right. About ten minutes later, Ria was staggering out, hair unbrushed, scaled armour not on properly and who knew where her weapons were. But she was here if a little wild-eyed and descending on the bowl of broth Cicero pushed her way.

"Is it nice, my sweetling?" Cicero cooed, patting his daughter gently on the back as she consumed half of it, then chucked the spoon aside and drank the rest straight from the bowl. Cicero tutted a little and poured her some tea, hoping she didn't try and down that in one as well. He didn't want to have to take her to the healers for a burnt throat. Fortunately once done with the broth, she just folded her arms and rested her head on the table.

"Oh, that was good," Ria gasped. "So good! What was in it?"

"Meat. Gravy. Onions. Peas. Carrots. Juniper leaves to season it. Oh, and Hair of the Wolf." And probably other things as well, but Cicero decided asking for details of the exact ingredients of anything the Reachmen had made was just asking for trouble.

"Hair of the Wolf?" Ria asked suspiciously.

"The hair of the wolf that bit you," Cicero explained. "Specifically, red wine. Do not fret, beloved child, they say the alcohol burns off during cooking."

Ria looked a little sceptical, but helped herself to some bread and cheese to counteract whatever had been in the dish she'd just devoured.

"Well, it worked. Gods, Cicero, what did we do last night?"

"Cicero doesn't know. Cicero was hoping you remembered. Cicero remembers that disgusting Thane subjecting his Listener to vile abuse and getting thrown out but not a lot after." Cicero snuggled closer to Ria, glad of the company and still not used to having a child but enjoying it regardless. Ria for her part, once over the initial shock, seemed to have accepted him with open arms, always happy to cuddle and talk to him even if she still called him Cicero rather than father. Cicero didn't really mind. She loved him, that was enough.

"We had a lot to drink. And we were singing Cyrodiilic Rhapsody and you hit all the high notes and everything. And then you missed your mama and got upset and had to be taken to bed – oh no, don't cry again!"

Cicero felt the memory slowly coming back and with it the old pain. He squeezed Ria's hand and rested his head against her shoulder, wishing Stelmaria was here, really here, not just a Thu'um-invoked ghost. But she was not and Cicero was alone. But thanks to Ria and everyone else, not lonely these days.

"Thank you, my child," Cicero murmured. "You are very kind to your poor father."

Ria put an arm around him and kissed the top of his head. "Hey. She's my nonna too. I miss her as well. But we're both here, aren't we? We got each other, right?"

"We have, we have!" Cicero cooed, and then he remembered she was usually in Jorrvaskr, far away. "Are you staying in Markarth for New Life or going home? Cicero is sure Madanach would not mind if you stayed. The Reach-King likes you!"

"Yeah, he's not so bad," Ria admitted. "And yeah, we're going to be here for a few days, or I will. Madanach's given Kodlak some job involving clearing out these Daedra worshippers in the Reach, but apparently I can't go. Kodlak says it's just going to be him and the twins. It's so unfair, why can't I go?"

Cicero knew full well why Madanach was calling werewolves in to take care of it and nothing appalled him more than Ria going.

"Ria, Ria, you cannot!" Cicero cried. "It is dangerous! No, no, Ria must stay here and keep her poor father company!" He pouted up at her with all the sadness he could muster and for a few brief seconds it did work... until Ria narrowed her eyes.

"Dangerous how exactly? You usually love dangerous things," Ria said, suspicious. "Come to think of it, why aren't you going, if the ReachGuard can't handle it?"

Cicero paused, wondering how much to tell her. Cicero knew what it was, of course. Cicero had heard rumours about the more public Daedric Shrine in the Reach, heard talk that the headman of Karthwasten secretly worshipped Peryite... and then found out he wasn't the only one, as Madanach had arranged a state visit to Karthwasten, ostensibly to inspect the mines and reassure the new Sybil of Dibella's parents that their daughter was settling in well at the Temple and the Forsworn wouldn't be interfering again and wasn't Dibella marvellous? And then promptly gone to pay a visit to the Shrine of Peryite on his way home. One commune with the Divine Taskmaster later and Madanach had a contract on some wayward worshippers to sort out... and no one willing to get closer to the afflicted than they had to. Which might have been a problem... until Madanach recalled he had a werewolf daughter immune to disease who'd recently been asking if he knew anything about a cure. Hence calling in Kodlak. Cicero disapproved a little of the blatant blackmailing of his poor father, but on the other hand, if it meant his parents reunited, he could live with it.

"Because they have dangerous weapons at their disposal, my sweet," Cicero purred. "They are worshippers of the Lord of Pestilence, Madanach needs people immune to disease. So he is hiring werewolves. Hircine's blood will protect them."

"Oh! Oh, well that makes sense," Ria said, nodding as she munched on her bread and cheese sandwich. "OK, I suppose I get why I can't go, and why you're not going either. Didn't Madanach want to send Eola in then? Or doesn't he want people to know she's a...?"

"Oh, I'm going," Eola purred, waltzing in with nary a sign of anything resembling a hangover and a plateful of sausages, bacon and a slab of rump steak cooked to order (namely, barely cooked at all) in her hand, which she promptly settled down and began tucking in to. "Da just didn't want me going in alone, and seeing as Kodlak's going to owe us a favour for our assistance, we're calling it in ahead of time. Don't know if we'll be heading out today, but certainly tomorrow. Hope Kodlak's ready."

"He will be," Ria promised. "Although he doesn't seem to like the idea and Vilkas seems bothered too. Eola, is there anything we need to watch out for?"

"Apart from infected cultists who spew toxic green vomit?" Eola asked, in between mouthfuls of meat which may or may not have come from non-sentient animals. "No. Their leader's said to be quite the mage, but nothing you guys can't handle, and I'll be there to provide backup. Just kill them all, come back, get paid, job done, everyone's happy. I imagine Kodlak just isn't keen on working for Da, any more than Da would have hired him if he'd had a choice. But don't worry. Da pays well and isn't planning anything untoward."

Probably not involving the Companions anyway. Cicero stopped snuggling Ria and leaned forward to coo at Eola.

"And how are you feeling this morning, my beloved? Listener is not with you, is she well?"

"Still asleep, she was up quite late talking with Da and then coming back and having to sort you out," Eola said, looking rather more sternly at Cicero than was really warranted, Cicero felt. It wasn't his fault there'd been so many shiny drinks around and that he didn't have a werewolf's constitution. "Anyway, listen up. We've got a job from the sounds of it. Or rather, you have. Del needs you to get on Odahviing, get yourself to Dawnstar and fetch Babette."

"Babette?" Cicero blinked, confused. "Why does our Listener require Babette? The Reach has alchemists! Surely our hangovers are not that severe."

"I don't know. She was tired and wanted to go to bed," Eola said pointedly. "She's Listener. You're Keeper. You do what you're told and don't ask questions. She wants Babette for some unspecified job only Babette can do, you get Babette for her. Clear?"

Cicero huffed a bit, a little wounded at Eola snapping at him, but a job was a job and an order from the Listener was not to be questioned. So Cicero sighed, gave in and prepared to take his leave. He'd go back to the room and see if Delphine was awake to say goodbye to and to verify that fetching Babette was definitely her wish, and then he supposed he'd have to go find Odahviing.

Why Delphine needed the services of a child vampire, he had no idea. But he had a feeling this would be an intriguing one.


Babette was used to spending her days resting in her own room with all her alchemy things just so – tools in the dresser, ingredients in the basket, results all stacked up in the chest, her working journals on the shelf. She was used to awaking at a leisurely pace first thing in the evening, then getting up, getting dressed, a vampire not minding the cold at all, saying hello to the initiates, then off to find Nazir and Astrid to collect a few contracts, then maybe out to either feed, gather more ingredients, set out on a job or some mix of all three.

She was not used to being woken up by Cicero pouncing on her.

"Hello Babette!" Cicero cooed. "Wakey wakey, rise and shine!"

Babette bit back the most unsisterly things that were her first thoughts and focused instead on her second, namely what on Nirn was Cicero even doing here? Wasn't he supposed to be the guest of honour at that Liberation Day thing they were having in Markarth? Astrid had even been considering going, but decided at length not to – Maven would recognise her if no one else, and it might be a little awkward making polite conversation with someone she might later have to either negotiate a contract with or kill. So Dawnstar's assassins had stayed put and left the Reach lot to it.

Except now the Jester Dragonborn was here, looking a little dishevelled, eyes rather bloodshot and in dire need of a shave but definitely, undisputably here.

"Cicero," Babette sighed. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Cicero waved a letter in front of her eyes, too fast for even a vampire to see it.

"Listener needs you!" Cicero cooed. "Listener sent orders, she did! Come, come, you must, you must! Get up, get up, get moving, we must not keep our beloved Listener waiting, must we, hmm?" He slid off her, folding his arms, waiting expectantly and seeming to overlook the fact she was still in her night gown and would need to get changed. Fortunately, Cicero's arrival hadn't gone entirely unnoticed by the rest of the Sanctuary and he'd left the bedroom door open.

"Cicero. I heard you'd arrived. What are you doing bothering Babette?"

Astrid, Dawnstar Speaker, mostly loyal to Delphine, but Cicero had never forgiven her for attempting to wipe out the Karthspire cell early in its formation. Grin never leaving his face but getting that bit darker, he slid over to Astrid in one flowing motion, the coat tails of his black armour barely making a sound.

"Astrid," Cicero purred, eyes flashing midnight black as he sidled too close to Astrid for anyone's comfort. "Always a pleasure."

It was never a pleasure and they both knew it. But Astrid put up with Cicero and Cicero obeyed his Listener and the Night Mother in all things, and so no one had stabbed anyone. All the same, Cicero didn't show that expression often to people he wished to keep alive.

"You're in Babette's room while she's not even dressed yet, turning up unannounced and not even bothering to say hello to the rest of us," Astrid scolded, eyes narrowed at him. "What am I to make of you harassing your sister, hmm? And aren't you supposed to be being the hero of the hour in Markarth?"

"Oh, that was yesterday," Cicero shrugged. "Now the party is done and the Reach is nursing its hangover and some people are nursing grudges, oh yes! Here, here! Listener sends word! Listener has work! Special work! From the Reach-King. You know what that means." Cicero's eyebrows flicked up and his face distorted in ghoulish pleasure at the prospect of a good stabbing for some poor bastard. Madanach wanted something doing, and when Madanach called in the Brotherhood, it usually meant something special. Difficult but likely interesting... and definitely well-paid. Astrid took the letter off him.

"Astrid,

Sorry to bother you at such short notice, something has come up and we need Babette in Markarth as soon as possible. It's not exactly a contract, not yet anyway, but Madanach is asking nicely and offering coin. It's really quite the tale, so I've said yes.

If you could send Babette back with Cicero and Odahviing as soon as you get this, I would appreciate it. You will of course get the usual Speaker's cut for this one.

It's not Babette's alchemical skills we're after this time, it's actually related to vampirism. I'll explain more when she arrives, but let's just say she won't need to bring a vast amount of alchemy equipment.

I apologise in advance for Cicero, he had quite the evening last night (as did we all) and is still feeling a little lively. I do hope he behaves.

Delphine"

Well, so far he'd snuck in without talking to anyone and been found hassling Babette, but at least he was here on official business rather than just to bother everyone.

"So you do have a reason for being here," Astrid noted, passing the letter to Babette. "That's something. Cicero, while you are of course welcome here, it is customary to announce one's presence on arrival and make polite enquiries as to the availability of the one you wish to talk to. Not sneak in and be found leaping on their bed – honestly, Cicero, that's very ill-mannered even in the Reach."

"It is likely to result in burns or frostbite in the Reach," Cicero admitted, sly little grin on his face. "Oh but Cicero meant no harm! It is a matter of the utmost urgency! Cicero has no time for chitchat or polite conversation! Time is of the essence! Sweet Delphine needs Babette's services immediately, before anyone else dies!"

"Anyone else – you mean someone got killed last night? At Liberation Day?" Astrid exchanged glances with Babette, now fully awake and reaching for a shawl as she got out of bed. "Now I'm beginning to regret not having gone. Who died, and what did Madanach do to the poor fool who showed him up on his special day? Or is that why you need Babette?"

"I'm always willing to help punish the unworthy, you know that," Babette grinned, sidling to Cicero's side. "I have several poisons just begging to be tested, to cause, prolong or enhance pain, or turn the slightest sensation to blissful agony."

"Hee!" Cicero squealed, cheeks flushing pink. "Delightful! But no, no, Cicero doesn't think it is for torture. The dead man is Thane Erikur of Solitude, but Madanach can't stand him and even pretty Elisif is not exactly grieving. The killer is in custody but Cicero doesn't think torture is planned, oh no. Listener seems to think something more is going on but would not say what. Only that she needs Babette to come quick, she did! Come, come, you must come with Cicero, you must!"

Cicero had Babette's arm by this point, about ready to haul the little vampire out as she was, so eager was he to see Delphine's orders carried out. Astrid gritted her teeth and raised her voice a little.

"Cicero. Babette is more than willing to come, I'm sure, but she can hardly go all the way to Markarth dressed like that. Even Madanach's court, relaxed though it may be, will not let people come before the Reach-King in their nightwear, and even a vampire can hardly go out riding on a dragon dressed like that. She's not even wearing shoes, look."

Cicero did glance down at Babette's feet then, letting go of her arm and giggling.

"Oh yes. Of course, of course! Foolish Cicero!" Cicero grinned at Astrid, not quite as murderously this time, before skipping for the door.

"Cicero shall wait! In the kitchen! Being no trouble! Perhaps he shall talk to Nazir or one of Astrid's new initiates, or... Cicero shall be waiting. Make haste, make haste! You don't want to risk missing another brutal murder in Markarth!"

There was going to be a brutal murder in Dawnstar if someone didn't start behaving soon, but mercifully Cicero had skipped out of the room, singing softly to himself as he went. Astrid wondered if it was a good thing or not that Arnbjorn was out on a job that night. Cicero was a demented little maniac at the best of times and Astrid would feel a lot happier with her husband around to keep an eye on the little freak. Still, at least this time Cicero seemed keen to be on his way, which was great unless you were Babette.

"Are you all right?" Astrid asked softly, placing a protective arm around Babette. Several centuries older than her Babette might be but Astrid was still Sanctuary leader and still felt the need to look after her people. "I didn't know the little lunatic was here until one of the initiates told me there was a dragon just lounging by the lighthouse, and it had said hello and called him Zeymah. Then I heard Cicero shrieking in your room. Are you going to be all right going with him?"

"I'm sure I'll be fine," Babette said, giving Astrid a hug. Babette wasn't naturally a tactile person but she'd always been close to Astrid. "Don't worry. That's definitely Delphine's handwriting and I don't think anyone forging it would have thought to include that detail at the end about Cicero. I'm more intrigued about what's been going on in Markarth. A Thane murdered during a Reachman festival? Do you think it was a fight got out of hand or some sort of sacrifice to the old gods?"

Astrid really couldn't say, although knowing Erikur, it was probably a spur of the moment killing caused by someone finally losing their patience. Erikur had had it coming for years and the only reason Maven hadn't asked for a contract was that it was too widely known she hated the man. All the same, this was the Reach. Ritual sacrifice could not be ruled out and an unpopular Nord nobleman would make an ideal victim. Why Madanach might want a vampire to assist with the aftermath though, Astrid couldn't even begin to fathom, but a job was a job, and the Mournful Throne always paid well.

"I honestly don't know, Babette. Just keep your wits about you, be professional as always and when you get back, be sure to tell me all about it."

Babette promised she would, and Astrid left her to get dressed and pack. She just hoped Cicero hadn't wrecked her kitchen in the meantime.


Once Babette was finally packed and dressed and good to go, Cicero turned from pest to solicitous, cooing and bouncing ahead and offering to carry her things for her. And Odahviing was even more so, greeting her like an old friend and not minding at all that she had to scramble up his nose instead of climb onto his neck. But soon she was in place, with Cicero sitting behind her, arm round her to hold her in place and squealing as the dragon took off.

Dragon flight wasn't an easy thing to get used to but Babette fared better than most. Vampires didn't get hypothermia after all. So Babette watched as Skyrim wheeled below her and the Druadachs loomed up in the distance, and Odahviing soared down the Karth river valley, swung past Karthspire and then over the mountains and down towards Markarth.

Banning's dogs started howling and it was just fortunate that the horses were in their stables for the night, and even the ReachGuard looked a bit wary, but Cicero hopped off and helped Babette down and Odahviing was gone in seconds, on his way back to Karthspire.

Despite the dust flurry and the breeze caused by dragon take-off, Cicero barely let up, ushering Babette away and towards the city gates, into Markarth and through the streets towards the looming edifice of Understone Keep.

She could feel the wrong in the air at once. ReachGuard on edge. People on edge. The city being cleared up after a night of partying, but the citizens not looking particularly happy. Could be hangovers, but it could be fear, and it wasn't just the Nords either. Even the Reachmen looked worried, and when they passed the house, the shadowed one with the door roped off and two ReachGuard warriors on either side glaring at anyone who came too close...

"Cicero, what happened here?" Babette whispered, feeling her fangs starting to elongate and her vision sharpen as her nose smelt blood, fresh blood, less than a day old blood, still lingering in the air despite the ReachGuard scouring the visible evidence away.

"Someone died, dearest sister," Cicero murmured, grip on her arm tightening as he steered her away. "Come, come, Listener will tell you more."

Someone had died all right, and Babette could feel darkness prickling at the back of her neck. There was power here, something old and dark... and hungry. Hungry like she was if she hadn't fed in too long. A vampire? A really old vampire?

No. Something much much worse. The father of all vampires, some sort of connection with Coldharbour itself. Had someone been invoking Molag Bal?

Babette truly didn't know whether to approve or pity the poor fool. No wonder Delphine was calling her in. Madanach must be seething.

No sign of the man himself in the Keep, but there was movement in the shadows and then Delphine was there, clad in her dragonscale gear, Blades swords at her back. Cicero left Babette's side immediately, gliding over to Delphine and sweeping into a low bow as he dropped to his knees, heedless of the watching ReachGuard.

"Listener!" he murmured, head leaning into Delphine's hand as she stroked his hair. "Listener, Cicero has brought our sister for you! As you requested!"

"So I see!" Delphine purred, scritching Cicero behind the ears and patting his back. "Good boy. You did well. Go on, go back to our room and rest, you've earned it."

Cicero did stop at that, questioning eyes looking up at Delphine.

"What, now? Right now?"

"Yes, right now, or later if you're not tired yet. Did you want something to eat? Kitchen's still open."

Cicero narrowed his eyes and scowled, or would have done if he hadn't yawned. Still scowling, he got up and bowed.

"Yes, Listener," he sighed, before taking his leave, something clearly bothering him. Babette wondered what it was, before deciding it wasn't her problem. Delphine could deal with him later, she'd married him after all.

"Listener," Babette said, dropping a little curtsey to her as Delphine turned back to her. Important to show respect to their leader after all, and Delphine was good at her job. Contracts were plentiful these days and without having to chase down leads, Dark Brothers and Sisters could spend more time on jobs. Delphine's network of contacts often came in handy there as well.

Delphine had been watching Cicero leave, frowning, but she turned back to Babette, smiling brightly.

"Babette, good to see you! I hope you had a good journey?"

"I did, thank you," Babette said. "Cicero said something about someone dying in Markarth at the party? Does Madanach want someone killing in return?"

Delphine's face darkened as she shook her head. "Not exactly. It's not a kill, at least not yet. More of a... negotiation. And you're the only one I feel comfortable risking on this one. Make no mistake, this will be dangerous."

"They always are," Babette shrugged, falling into step behind her leader. "What's so different about this one?"

"Given our recent history, less than you might think," Delphine said cryptically. She said nothing more until they reached Madanach's study, empty and dark, just the trophy heads leering down from the wall in the magelight. Delphine took a seat, indicating for Babette to do likewise.

"So who's the client?" Babette asked. "Who am I meeting?"

Hesitation in Delphine's eyes and it was then Babette realised this really wasn't an ordinary one.

"There's a shrine to Molag Bal in the city," Delphine finally admitted. "Madanach used to sacrifice criminals to it. It was inactive for years after the city fell to Ulfric, but now it's active again. The house it's in had been sealed all this time but at the Liberation Day party, it opened again while two men were fighting outside. One threw the other inside, the door sealed behind them, and when it opened, we had one live Nord of the Reach and one very dead Thane Erikur."

"Thane Erikur? Sithis," Babette whispered, realising what must have happened, and just why Delphine had sent for her so quickly and why Madanach must be freaking out. "You mean Molag Bal came back and made them fight to the death?"

Delphine nodded, seeming pleased she'd realised so quickly. Well of course Babette had, she was a vampire of three hundred years, once the novelty had worn off, she'd got curious about where vampires came from and what it meant to be a vampire, so she'd done her research. She knew the first vampires had been women offered up or 'chosen' by Molag Bal, who'd risen from the aftermath of sexual violation as pure-blooded vampires. She knew all about what Molag Bal represented. And to think of a shrine to him here, claiming victims as it pleased...

"You want me to deal with the shrine?" she whispered, feeling a little intimidated. "Delphine, I'm an alchemist with a little magic on the side, I'm not a summoner! Doesn't Madanach have Hagravens who can deal with this?"

"Yes, but his Matriarch in chief is off trying to save Jarl Siddgeir's innards from melting – don't ask," Delphine sighed. "Suffice it to say she won't be around for a few days and we need to do something now. Babette, I'm not expecting you to destroy the shrine... but I do need you to go in there and talk to it. Find out if it's still active, and if it is... what Molag Bal wants. Then come back and tell us."

Why me, Babette wanted to ask, but truth was, she knew. Molag Bal changed people, Molag Bal twisted people. Molag Bal turned the unambitious into power-hungry despots, turned good men into rapists, turned farmboys into warlords. Delphine and Madanach couldn't risk any of their people going bad, but they could send someone already a vampire, and a child at that. Babette might kill but she couldn't rape.

"I'll talk to him," Babette promised. "But I can't guarantee an outcome. Delphine, what happens if he wants something we can't deliver?"

"Then we call Matriarch Keirine back and get her to banish the shrine back to Coldharbour," Delphine said, shrugging. "But in the meantime, we stall for time and at least look like we're playing along. Well, are you willing?"

Frankly no, but Babette also guessed she didn't really have a choice. So she accepted the job and followed Delphine out, hoping her god-ancestor's plans for Markarth were something they could all live with.


Delphine returned to her guest bedroom, pleased how that had gone. Babette had gone to rest and prepare for what was likely to be arduous – who knew how a conversation with Molag Bal would go. Delphine would go herself, but she couldn't risk being made to fight her own people, or Madanach's. And she would never risk Cicero with this. Not after Solstheim.

She pushed the door open, solid Dwemer metal gliding silently open and magelights glimmering before her, illuminating Dwemer stonework but a bed with a straw mattress and fur blankets. One of Madanach's first acts after the siege and the treaty had been to place an order for an entire city's worth of straw, furs and mattresses for the Keep and barracks' beds. Apparently his people had not fought a twenty five year war and a lengthy siege against the Stormcloaks to end up with beds less comfy than those on a Forsworn camp.

On the bed was Cicero, but he wasn't sleeping. Wasn't even lying down. He was hunched on the bed, scowl marring otherwise handsome features, but when he saw her his expression softened, becoming rather more neutral.

"Listener," Cicero murmured, sliding off the bed and getting to his feet. As always, he dropped to his knees and kissed her hand, head lowered. Delphine stroked his hair before stepping backwards, indicating for him to get up.

"Hey. Cicero." A pause and did they talk this over or let it go? Hard to tell but a resentful Cicero was good for no one. So Delphine took the plunge.

"Do we need to talk?"

Cicero scowled and said nothing, folding his arms and glancing away. A yes then.

"Cicero," Delphine sighed. "You're clearly annoyed about something. What is it? Is it something I did?"

"No," Cicero muttered before shrugging. "Yes. Maybe. Listener, why isn't Cicero investigating the Thane's death? Cicero can find things out! Cicero can do dangerous things! Why isn't Cicero going?" He looked most put out. Delphine stroked his face and smiled gently at him.

"Because Babette would be better at handling this one, Cicero," Delphine murmured. "I'm not going to send anyone on any job if there's someone else available who would be better at it."

"You are not sending me on any jobs!" Cicero cried and Delphine couldn't help but flinch back. Cicero was always a little frightening when he was angry, although he was rarely angry at her. "You have sent me to kill dragons and even then reluctantly! I have had no contracts at all! I have done more stabbing for Jorrvaskr than I have for you!" In the silence that followed, Cicero's scowl turned into a pout.

"Listener, when did Cicero stop being good at stabbing things?" Cicero whispered, and Delphine honestly didn't know what to tell him. Of course he was skilled, of course she knew that. It wasn't his skills that worried her. It was his mind.

"You didn't," Delphine whispered. "I just don't like you being in danger."

Cicero laughed bitterly, shrugging his shoulders. "Life is dangerous. And short. Especially when we are involved! Listener, I don't fear death. Even before the silence came, life for an assassin was not a safe one. When you made your money, you retired and thanked the Night Mother for not calling you home quite yet. Cicero knows it is risky. Does Delphine not?"

"Of course I do, but you made your fortune and fame too!" Delphine cried. "Can't you retire and thank the Night Mother for everything?"

"No!" Cicero shouted. "Because Cicero isn't READY!"

Cicero's Thu'um shook the room, a tacit reminder that this assassin could breathe fire. Delphine remembered Esbern telling her she should let Cicero out more, a Dragonborn historically did not react well to being restrained and kept cooped up. And Delphine knew that, she did... but she couldn't bear the idea of seeing him hurt. Not since Solstheim.

It seemed Cicero's patience for remaining curled up by his Listener's side was at an end.

"Last time I sent you out on a truly dangerous mission, you came back broken!" Delphine cried. "You had nightmares for weeks! Sometimes you still do! And you were afraid to be away from me for long. I've had letters from Kodlak too, worrying about you. That you're needier. Clingier. You run into Jorrvaskr and you're shaking all over and clinging on to him or Farkas or Ria or even Vilkas. You're even less fond of being alone than you ever were and you don't like seeing people leave to go on jobs – every time Ralof leaves, I have to peel you off him and you're all over anyone who returns. You think you're ready to start doing dangerous contracts again? Because I don't!"

Cicero stared back, clearly acknowledging the truth of all this... and yet he was shaking all over, clearly also unwilling to admit any of it.

"Listener," Cicero whispered. "Listener, if I do not start taking risks again, if I do not start adventuring, if you do not trust me to leave and come back... Listener, if I do not do it now, I never will! Listener, please! Will you at least tell me what is going on with this one, Cicero knows nothing! Only that Erikur is dead at the hands of a mere boy who is not a killer. Cicero has seen Hreinn many times, been served drinks by him – he is no murderer! And yet Erikur is dead. And it has to do with that house and even the Forsworn do not want to talk about it. So there is something in there, something dark, something... dangerous! And you are sending Babette in to deal with it and not sweet Cicero." Cicero scowled, definitely pouting now. "What is it, Listener? Cicero is capable of stabbing anything you tell him to, you know that!"

Delphine knew, but that wasn't the problem, was it? The problem was what a dangerous and powerful Daedra might do to him in the process.

"It's Molag Bal," Delphine whispered, and that had the notable effect of shutting Cicero up completely.

"...oh," was all that came out of Cicero's mouth and for a few moments there was nothing but an awkward silence as Cicero stared rather nervously back. It was Cicero who finally broke it.

"Listener, I do not think even Madanach can afford Molag Bal," Cicero whispered and Delphine had to smile at that.

"I know, I told him that," Delphine grinned. "Come on, sit down, I'll tell what I can."

So he did and she told him. Not everything – the last thing Cicero needed to hear was about Madanach's deviant past. But she told him there'd been Molag Bal worship in the past in the Reach, and a shrine in the abandoned house... and the shrine had re-opened the house on its own and welcomed Erikur and Hreinn in, Hreinn emerging the victor but both having been forced to fight or die.

"So I told Madanach I'd investigate for him, find out what the shrine wants," Delphine finished. "That's why I need Babette. She's a vampire already, there's no need for Molag Bal to corrupt her. And she's physically a child. She can't rape anyone. And if she does go bad... that's what I need you for."

Cicero had drawn closer as she spoke, eyes wide and face solemn. She'd never had to order him to kill a Dark Brother or Sister. It had never come up. But it was part of his job description. Keeper of the Listener, of the Night Mother... and Keeper of the Night Mother's Peace. Enforcer of the Tenets. And if a Dark Brother or Sister ever went rogue or needed hunting... Cicero would be the one to do it. At the time he'd been... enthusiastic was the wrong word but he'd been solemn and insistent it was necessary, the Tenets would not be kept if there was no penalty. Now he might actually need to, he seemed a little nervous... but he nodded.

"Yes. If you think it necessary, Listener," he said gravely. Delphine smiled and leaned over to kiss him. Much better. This was the Cicero she knew. Ready and prepared to do whatever the Brotherhood required.

"Let's hope it will not be," Delphine murmured and Cicero did smile at that.

"Just give the order, my Listener," Cicero purred and Delphine lips met his, her hands on his cheeks to cup his face, and she indulged herself for a few precious moments before pushing him roughly back on to the bed, rather liking the excited little squeak he emitted as he fell back. As she climbed on top of an eager, reassured Cicero, arms open to welcome her, Delphine decided that, come what may, at least one thing was going right.


A/N: And next chapter, we get to see just what Molag Bal wants.