A/N: This chapter? Yeah. YOU'RE WELCOME.

-Liliedove.

Cicero sat on one of the polls that anchored the bridge ropes. With his legs spread apart, he laid an arm across one knee while propping the other one up to hold his chin. He wrestled with his thoughts. To think he had thought such dangerous thoughts, and still yearned- hoped! For them to happen.. Someway, somehow, but oh it just wouldn't do!

Was it possible? Could the Listener have possibly betrayed them so? No, she couldn't have, she COULDN'T have! But oh, the daggers and the armor! How could this be? How could she do such a thing? He closed his eyes. He could picture her, standing before him. Oh, if only he could have been a bit taller! Tall enough so that his shoulders were higher than hers! A man should be the taller, and broader one, should he not? But oh, at least she wasn't the broader one. And was she taller or was he? He couldn't tell. At least his shoulders were still wider, and her torso was much leaner. To imagine her without those baggy robes on, without- OH WHAT WAS CICERO THINKING? He grabbed his face and gave it a good shake. No, he mustn't think such thoughts! So, so invasive! What would she do if she knew his thoughts? His so frequent thoughts? Oh how he missed her company. Her calm demeanor, that serious and yet gorgeous expression on her face... Those small, pursed, beautiful, light colored lips! Were they soft..? They looked soft... Oh his heart raced just thinking about it! He shook himself again. Stop it Cicero! But oh, to hear words come out of that mouth! To have those lips form words to give him assurance! He could almost imagine them. He could almost hear her breathing, her very footsteps! He could hear that sigh of hers, when she's finished a hard day's work. Oh how hard she worked! She needn't work so hard! He froze. Cicero did hear her sigh, truly he heard a real sigh! He opened his eyes, taking in a short breath. There she was! It was no imagination, it was real! He had heard it with his own two ears!

She looked tired. She needed rest. She had been gone for days, she must be exhausted! The dear, sweet Listener... OH but she has QUESTIONS to ANSWER! Yes, MANY questions to answer for what she had done! His mesmerized look then turned into a frown. He watched as she paced around the Night Mother's coffin. His look softened. Could there still be a chance that it was not true? There must have been. There MUST have been! She placed a hand on the coffin, then muttering a prayer to the Night Mother. He pursed his lips tightly, thoughts racing. Maybe now was the time to approach her? Try as he might to convince himself, he kept himself glued to the stump. He balled his fists, wiping the sweat from his palms. Go he must! He stomped one of his feet, mad at himself for not gaining the courage to walk up to her now out of all the times he had done so before.

He then turned to look when he felt a presence behind him. Nazir passed, looking down at him as he continued on. He approached the Listener. The accursed Redguard! What was he doing up at this absurd hour?! Taking Cicero's chance! Who else might still be up?

"Listener."

She looked at him as he stood before her. "Nazir."

"I see that you have returned." She gave him no response, only looking at him. "We've missed your presence in the sanctuary. It's not the same without you here."

"I apologize, there was important business I had to handle. It's been dealt with properly now, rest assured." She had removed her hood, now looking down into the darkness of the dining room.

Nazir shifted his weight onto the other foot, simply looking at her. There was another moment of silence. "Business huh..." Cicero stiffened as he looked back at him, giving him a sympathetic look. What was that look for? Cicero didn't need such a look! It was... was, was maddening! Nazir then looked back at the Listener again. "Are you planning on staying for a while now?"

"I never meant to leave in the first place." She replied. "Things just came up. Hopefully that is over with now and things can return to normal."

"Funny you mention things coming up unexpectedly. I want to keep a close eye on Svenja now. She's been snooping around in places she shouldn't, and though she hasn't kept anything she has taken I want to know what she's been up to. Of course, with your permission."

She laughed: that glorious, wonderful laugh! Cicero put a hand on his chest. "Well, I know she's a handful but what could she have done to make you of all people get so up in arms?" Cicero growled, then stopping when he recalled that his presence had not been noted by her yet. But oh, how his blood began to simmer just seeing that! Why couldn't she banter with him?

"She's done more than I'd like to say." Nazir replied, shaking his head. "She doesn't particularly trust you; keeps going on about how you must be two-faced."

"Is that so?" She sounded rather amused. "Well, nords will be nords. They are suspicious of everyone who isn't a nord, especially those who are not of the race of pale men. I'm surprised she even trusts you as much as she does."

"Well, it's precautionary. If she's not getting into any real trouble, then we can rest easily at night. Either way, it wouldn't hurt to know."

"I see your point... I'll talk to her tomorrow."

"If she's back tomorrow."

"Oh?"

"She disappeared a few days ago."

"Really now. I suppose we'll just have to deal with her when she returns. Right now I'm hungry, so I'll get myself some of the left overs before I retire."

"Alright, I'll see you in the morning then." He passed Cicero again, not looking at him this time.

Cicero sneered as he stood. Was Nazir really not going to tell the Listener the things that woman had committed against her? Of course! Cicero had to do everything himself if things were to be done correctly!

Madrale lit a flame at her finger tips, flicking it at some of the candles around her room. She released another sigh when she saw her bed. She loosened her belt as she walked towards it, then pulling her robes off over her head. Her chemise clung to her, still damp with sweat. She loosened it as well.

"Nazir is surprisingly fond of that wench."

She quickly looked over where the voice had came from, tightening the draw-strings to cover her breasts completely again. She could faintly see his face through the darkness as he sat with his legs up on her desk, playing with her writing feather between his fingers. "She has a wicked tongue, that one. To spout such lies as she had in the dining room only a few days ago now! Oh, but Nazir has just as wicked lips for keeping them sealed when they should have been open." He sounded resentful, a look of displeasure on his face.

"Cicero."

He stood, placing the pen back on the desk. He then approached her, his eyes flickering from the ground to her face. He has a serious look about him. He seemed... cold. "Oh, that wicked tongue! It couldn't be true... could it? My Listener..."

Something about his presence was different. Madrale turned to face him completely. "I don't know what you're talking about." She furrowed her brow as he placed his hands on her shoulders, then drawing them down her arms gently, rubbing his thumbs against them. His face was solemn. "Of course you wouldn't... Of course you wouldn't, you're innocent. My Listener is innocent." He took a step closer, his toes touching hers. "There's no way the Listener could be what she says... It's all just a trap for my dear, sweet..." their faces were inches apart. He slowly tilted his face, coming even closer with his mouth parted slightly.

Madrale became alarmed. "Cicero!" She gasped.

He blinked, frozen for a moment before he drew back, looking into her eyes. He had a look of longing. "But then there are those daggers..." He whispered. "And it makes Cicero curious. Just what was Madrale doing all these days?"

She was taken back for a moment at the use of her true name, almost reprimanding him for using it; but didn't the others use it as well? "Cicero, you know fully well what I was doing. I told you before I left, don't you remember?"

"Oh, but of course I remember! Why would Cicero forget? But how is Cicero to know if the dark elf is lying to him?" He was taken back by the brief look of hurt that flickered across her face. He quickly turned his back on her, taking another step away. "Oh, but of course not! Of course not, for you are the Listener! Your loyalties only lie with the Dread Lord and the Night Mother, that is for certain! …Does it not?" He stared off in the distance, waiting for her reply.

Madrale studied him. He stood completely stock still with the exception of his hand that instinctively itched for his dagger's hilt. She let out a deep breath. What had possessed him a moment ago? She bit her lip, thinking about what almost occurred. Her heart's beat went out of tune. Why was it going out of tune? She placed a hand on her chest. "I still don't quite understand where this is all coming from. Of course my loyalties lay with Sithis and the Night Mother! What have I done to deserve this speculation?"

He turned to look at her again, glaring angrily. "And NOBODY else?" His voice dripped with venom.

She became quiet. He looked at the expression of discomfort on her face, barely seen but by the small light the candles sparsely provided. "There are many gods that rule over Nirn." She said in a low voice.

"Ah yes! The Eight Divine! Or the nine, if you are like the accursed Nords!" He said sardonically. "Or... perhaps the Daedric Princes are worthy of worship?"

She paused. "What daggers were you speaking of?"

"DON'T DANCE AROUND THE BUSH! We ALL know! Yes, that which your accuser spoke of and your Speaker hid from you this very night!" He laughed as he watched her eyes gaze over to the bed. "YES!" He declared, marching over and bending down. "Yes, Cicero KNOWS! He did not WANT to know, but he knows! He did not WANT to BELIEVE that Listener Madrale was was CAPABLE of such ATROCITY!" He pulled the chest out and into view. "CICERO KNOWS HOW TO PICK A LOCK, MADRALE. Cicero did not WANT to believe THE ACCUSER, but it seems her words ring TRUE! It is not her, but YOU who is the BETRAYER! YOU BETRAYED ME!"

He was yelling. She quickly approached him, placing a hand tightly around his mouth, giving him a look that crippled him. The anger in his expression was washed away, replaced with a moment of fear. He recoiled from her. "Quiet down, you'll wake the others! We don't need their audience tonight! I don't know what was said, but I am no traitor! Yes, I serve Boethiah."

His expression was numbing, as though he was watching the crumbling of all he held dear. He took her hand from his mouth. "So it... It is true." He could barely muster the words. It was as though she had stabbed him in the back when she said those words. She gave an agitated sigh as she then kicked the chest back under the bed. "And... And you kept it a secret?"

She looked at him, giving him a knowing look. "Just because I've never said anything doesn't mean I was trying to keep it a secret. It's not important."

He was not convinced. "Then why the secrecy?" Why lock it away... in secret?"

"I wasn't hiding it!" She growled. Cicero put a finger against his lips. She shook her head, putting an arm out. "You even said that all it took was knowing how to pick a lock! Do you really think I'd put something I wanted no one to find under my bed in a sanctuary full of expert lock-picks?" His face began to soften as he contemplated what she said. "I wasn't hiding it, it is simply a thing of the past. I didn't need anyone getting hurt by its contents."

"Then why? Why does the Listener still have it? Are you not still bound to do her will? To be snuffed out if you do not?"

She gave him her hand, bringing him back on his feet before she sat on the edge of her bed, indicating to him to join her. They proceeded to talk in low voices.

"Do you remember when you asked me about my past? On the road to Markarth?"

He sat silent, staring into her eyes once more; this time with hope. "You said you had done some foolish things, nearly killed yourself no? But you're still alive because you must. You must, because They knew you would be the Listener."

She looked back at him, thinking. Her eyes flickered down when she felt his hand against her knee, which then retracted to his side. She looked up at him again. His attention was now on the floor. She looked at her knee again, then placing her own hand there. "When I was a young girl, I lived with my family in Morrowind, but we were originally from the Empire. I was born in Cyrodiil."

A light grew in Cicero's face as he looked back up at her, amazed. "You? From the Empire?" A smile spread across his face as he chuckled. "To think we came from the same homeland! Where from, Sister?" He had a flirtatious look on his face as he made his eyebrows dance, that mischievous spark in his eyes. She tried to keep from allowing herself to catch it, but a small smile grazed across her face. He raised his eyebrows even more at his, giving her a look that made a laugh escape her lips. She hid her face with a hand, sighing.

"Leyawiin, though I don't remember much about it, just that I lived there in some distant life. I haven't been there since our pilgrimage to Morrowind and our stay turning out a lot longer than planned."

"What a shame! You must return there one day. With me, perhaps? It feels like it has been so long since I was last there myself! But it has been less than a year! Oh, how things change so quickly!" He looked as though his spirit had returned to that place. "Yes, that place was Cicero's home so long ago..."

After another pause, she continued. "Once we were in Morrowind, I remained with my family. They were... Well, as one might expect from a dumner family. Those of course," she chuckled. "With the pride of one from the Empire. It didn't always give us the best reputation. Our branch of the family had been in the Empire for so long that we had ceased ancestor worship. That was frowned upon in the Empire, and we were then frowned upon in Morrowind for not doing so. We had no contracts made into oaths with any relatives whose remains were found. We were too far removed from our last ancestor who made one, and so we could not pick up the old tradition again. Despite that, our family still welcomed us with open arms again. You see, my father met a distant relative of ours who was traveling the Empire. They got along so well that the mer invited us back to visit his family in the homeland. It was then that my father fell in love with the land and decided to stay."

Cicero listened intently, watching the expressions on her face change as she relived the memories. "But you, you didn't love the homeland?"

"No, not exactly."

"And so, you left? All on your own?"

"Not on my own. I was not nearly brave enough for that." She laughed.

"Oh?" Cicero grew more curious. "Then who was this... Person?"

"My older brother, Garnas. He was eighteen at the time. He was always the black sheep of the family, always off on adventures instead of being sensible and staying in school to learn magic. My father always scolded him for that."

"And what of you? Did you go on adventures?"

"No... No, I was too shy for that. Too obedient! I did what I was told, when I was told to do it. I stayed in school and studied. I always had a knack for conjuration. I can't say the same for Alteration."

"I've never seen you use your magic. Why not?" He tilted his head to the side.

"Yes you have!" She clicked her tongue. "Why, right as I came in the room tonight I lit all the candles! Threw the little flames from my finger tips!"

"That doesn't count!" He whined.

"Yes it does," she bantered, pushing his shoulder. He gave her a toothy grin. She looked at him for a moment, then noticing what she was doing. She placed her hands in her lap, regaining her composure. "Anyway, my brother was getting sick of all the 'rules' he had to follow. The sacred days he had put aside for worship of the Tribunal: Azura, Mephala, and Boethiah. As you can see, I've been worshiping the Night Mother since my youth."

"What?" He gave her a confused look. She returned the look.

"What do you mean, what?"

"Well, you just said you worshiped Azura, Mephala, and Boethiah. Perhaps you forgot to mention Mother?"

"Oh, I see." Madrale ticked her finger back and forth. "You must not know, huh?"

"Know WHAT?!" He was becoming frustrated.

"The Night Mother is the incarnation of Mephala herself, you see. Hence, she has known me and I have known her my whole life."

A look of understanding spread across his face. "I see... I think. Yes, Cicero thinks he has heard something like that before... Cicero doesn't know if that's really true or not though, but it seems to make sense now."

"Well it is. Anyway, my brother didn't like the strictness. He was never one for religion, not like that. It didn't give him enough freedom is what he kept telling everyone. This went on for years until he just couldn't stand it anymore. I was always there, watching him. I confronted him the night he left. He was hastily packing his things. I asked him what he was doing, and he told me he was going on an adventure. I asked him 'What sort of an adventure?' I remember the look in his eyes when he looked at me that night. He was bursting at the seams with excitement! He looked me over, and then grabbed my hands, saying I would be suitable to join him, that I was old enough now to make my own decisions."

"So you went with him?"

"I was hesitant about it. I didn't like the idea of leaving my home and my family. But then... Then it hit me. The thrill! The adventures I had only overheard him talking about! Oh, how I remembered longing to go on his silly little adventures! So I said yes. I thought that we'd certainly return. It wasn't until we has sneaked out of the house and were long on the road that I asked him where it was we were going. 'To Skyrim!' he told me. 'To Skyrim and beyond! I've only heard of that place in stories: it's ice-capped mountains, and all the treasure one could carry!' I asked him if we could not find those things in Morrowind and he had told me we could not. It took me a while to realize that he was never planning on taking us home. I missed it, but I still hungered for the adventure and I feared getting lost on my own. Eventually we ran out of coin. It was then that we found the cult of Boethiah. It was my brother's hope that by defeating the other members we could have enough coin to eat. I didn't like it, but the other members weren't penniless. He fought, and he won! We could then keep the spoils! But, it was never quite enough..."

She went silent. Cicero bit his lip. "Never quite enough?" He said in an attempt to press her on. She nodded her head.

"That's when I had to join myself. At first I tried convincing him of other means to earn money, but back then there was an even greater prejudice against our people. No one wanted to deal with our sort. No work, no trade. We had to make it on our own. We were above stealing, and couldn't bare to lower ourselves to that level. Garnas... He went far, but in the end he did not please Boethiah and was burned when he tried summoning him at his alter. I on the other hand was seen... Favorably."

"Favorably..." He muttered, as if trying to understand the meaning behind it. "You seem to be found in favor with many of the deities. Oh, but if only you had not been his champion! If only you would have saught out the Dark Brotherhood sooner! It has been 14 years now, why 14 years late? Why didn't you arrive right when Alisanne Dupre was murdered!"

"She would have needed to die much sooner if that were to be my redemption from Boethiah's cult."

"Oh! Oh... Um, really?" He gave a sheepish laugh. "That's right, you are a dark elf... Just... Just how old are you? Might I ask?"

"Never ask a woman her age." She scowled.

"R-right! Of course! For you are the Listener, and-!"

"Cicero," Madrale putting a hand on his shoulder. He stopped, laughing softly once more.

"Right, right... So what did you do from there? After becoming the champion of Boethiah?"

She couldn't believe she was telling him this much about herself. She must have gone mad herself this time for sure! "Well, Boethiah didn't have much to tell me. It was as though he lost interest in me... Once in a while he would tell me to do a thing, but not often. I await to see when he will send someone my way to kill and take my place as his champion."

Cicero sat up straight, standing while partially still sitting on the bed, the dagger now armed. "KILL YOU? NEVER! Cicero will not let that happen! NO! You shall not be replaced! You are the Night Mother's now, and he will not take you from me! I mean, I mean us!"

"Calm down Cicero, nothing is happening!" He looked at her, then sheathing it in his belt as he settled down again. "Sorry."

"I spent my time doing what my brother would do: going on adventures! I went from hold to hold, making a name for myself by doing tasks for people. One bad run in with some draugrs told me that I wasn't where I wanted to be with my magic, so I joined the College of Winterhold to hone my skills. In the past decade, I've become a Thane in Riften and here in Dawnstar. A title given, I think, for the Jarl to feel as though they're nobility. I do appreciate it though. I lived in Riften for a long time. It was a great place for me to sell my wares, after all. One wouldn't think so for it's reputation of thieves, but I did well there. It wasn't long after that when I was traveling that I met you."

"When you met me, Cicero." He smiled to himself. "Ah yes, I will always remember that day! You helped me so much! I will NEVER forget it, NEVER! And Mother will not either!"

"That's what you keep saying." She got up, then pulling a bottle of mead off the shelf, dusting it with her hand. She popped the cap off, then taking in a gulp.

"You don't drink very often. Sometimes, but not often." Cicero commented.

"I don't do well with alcohol. I do crazy things." She replied, laying down on the other side of the bed.

"So why are you drinking it now?"

"I figured I'm already crazy tonight." She laughed. "Telling you all that- no dunmer does that! Not to a man like you!" She laughed, taking another gulp. Cicero spied another bottle on the shelf.

"Might Cicero have one as well?"She waved him off. He proceeded to pick up his bottle, smiling as he put the glace in the air. "To our service to the Night Mother and the Dread Father!" Madrale put her bottle in the air as well. Laying next to her, he laughed. "No, I suppose a dark elf wouldn't tell an Imperial these things about herself, but perhaps at heart you are really an Imperial and not a dark elf."

She looked over at him. "Me? An Imperial and not a dunmer? No."

Cicero shrunk his head into his shoulder at the refusal of his suggestion. "No?... Not even just a little?"

"No." She took another sip.

"No?"

"Maybe just a little."

He smiled. "Yes, just a little."

They then continued to drink in silence.

The Door slowly trudged closed behind her as Svenja entered the sanctuary. She still had a contemplating look that had been on her face since she had departed for home. To think that such a thing was occurring right under their noses! She strode into the first room, met by an off handed hello from Babette and a look from Nazir. He looked as though he had been waiting. Funny, people seemed to like waiting for her in that spot.

"You're back now, huh?" He approached her.

"Yes, I am." She replied, putting a hand on her hip. "It looks as though you have missed me."

"Oh, you know I did." He said sarcastically. "I'd like you to meet me in the archery range in the next few minutes, before you crash for the rest of the day." He then walked away. She raised her eyebrow, then following behind him.

"Why don't we just do this now then." She said as she walked side by side with him across the bridge. He glanced down at her.

"Fine by me." As they walked down the stairs, she was met by the Listener's stare. She then knew that she must have been tattled on. She glared at Nazir.

"Welcome home, Svenja." The Listener said as they walked into the room. Beside her stood a ghost. Ah, typical dark elf.

"Greetings, Listener." She responded. "Who is this?"

"I heard that some things happened when I was gone... All I'd like to say is that if you'd like to keep your warm bed here, you're best off not stirring up things that are better off settled. Do you understand?" She gave her a hard stare.

Svenja returned it, defiantly. Knowing she was at a loss she gave in, nodding her head. "I understand."

"Good." The Listener crossed her arms. The ghost looked between them. "This is Lucien Lachance. He was once a Speaker for our Brotherhood in the Empire many years ago. I would like it if he would accompany you for a time."

The ghost stepped forward, staring down at her. She squirmed uncomfortably. The dead were better off left dead. He put out a hand, a force within her forcing her to put forth her own into his. She cringed slightly at the touch, which was an odd sensation of something dry and solid and yet not at all. She looked up at his face again. He looked rather young and handsome to be a ghost, but of course many within the Brotherhood died too soon. His demeanor and features gave her a strong feeling that he was an Imperial by blood as well as birth. She frowned slightly when his expression changed, as if recognizing something.

"Ah!" His voice was deep and alluring. "Letreius Petilius sends you his regards, Ma'dam Svenja."

A shocked look came across her face, which then softened for a moment. She realized that she was still holding his hand, and let go. Looking back at the Listener and Madrale, she nodded her head. "I think I can deal with that."

"Really?" Nazir said with a disbelieving laugh. "I don't think we've got the right person here. Are you truly Svenja, or are you someone else pretending to be her and failing miserably? The Svenja I know would never be okay with having a ghost around."

"I have a right to make my own decisions." She said as she put her chin in the air.

"Sure, if that's how you'd like to look at it." He sputtered another laugh.

"As long as you're not going to give us a hard time, then you're free to go." Madrale stated.

"Oh! LISTENER! You're down there? Is that you?" The four looked up to see Cicero dangling from the bridge ropes.

"He does know he isn't supposed to put his weight on those, doesn't he?" Nazir scoffed.

"Cicero has cooked you up some dinner, Listener! Come, come taste it! I'm sure it will be... Quite delicious to your sense of taste." He laughed, then leaving.

"So you did spare him?" The sound of contentment could be heard in Lucien's voice.

"Yes, I did." She replied.

"It was a good choice." He looked at her. Nodding her head, she turned to walk away.

"I don't think I should keep Cicero waiting long, or else he might go sour-faced for a while. I'll see you both at the table."

"I hear you there! I'm starved!" Nazir followed closely behind, then striking up a new conversation about the mudcrab soup Cicero had made the week before, and how it was best to be avoided if that was what he made again tonight.

Svenja looked back at Lucien again with a raised eyebrow. "A good choice? Are you sure about that?"