A/N: May the Night Mother keep you in her cold, loving embrace. Enjoy, and review!

Chapter 10: A New Vow

My head felt like a fireball waiting to explode.

"Hhmmm…" I moaned, sluggishly shifting onto my stomach. Someone hummed softly in the room. I sleep-growled, gathering enough energy to pull the pillow out and slam it over my head. I sighed with the effort. The humming stilled, and I was vaguely aware of my bed having more warm furs on it than usual. I dozed, until someone perched at the end of my bed. I tried to kick the intruder off, but found the bed was even longer than usual. It faintly occurred to me this wasn't my bed. Someone stifled chuckles, and I heard the sharp clink of glass on stone close to my head. "It's a healing potion," the voice whispered loudly. It was familiar….
"Hnngg!" I complained, and the intruder left, a door opening and closing fairly quietly.

My need to breathe eventually got the better of me. If I'm going to breathe, might as well sit up and drink it…. If I could find the potion. I threw the pillow to the foot of the bed, wincing at the pain in my head, and started turning over onto my back, slowly sitting up with vertigo and a little nausea. I squinted in the light, letting my heavy head sit in my hands while I considered that I actually had a problem, before looking for the potion. I picked it up carefully, flinching at the sharp popping noise it made when I uncorked it and sipped the sweet liquid. I breathed deeply and kept sipping slowly, eventually feeling well enough to take in my surroundings. I was in a room that was familiar, though I couldn't pinpoint where I had seen it before.

I was on a bed in a passage, just obscured from a room on the left, and to my right was a small dining room with an adjoining chamber. Sweet rolls and carrots as well as a few other foodstuffs were on plates and bowls. Whoever stayed here loved sweet rolls and carrots…. I stood slowly, swaying a little as I moved to the table, potion in hand.

I had no idea where I was, who had spoken to me. I felt panic rise: it made me angry. I never panicked about anything. Why haven't I ever thought of drinking a healing potion? I suddenly wondered, taking a sweet roll. At the very least, I still had my clothes on; I couldn't remember what I had done the night before, and it bothered me. That fed my panicked anger at myself even more as I bit into the bread, forcing myself to enjoy the cinnamon and sugar roll and relax. I felt a little surer on my feet now, and I decided to explore the other side of the passage. I licked the sugar off my fingers as I finished the potion. I felt about normal, again.

I felt all the blood drain from my face. The Night Mother's coffin was to my left, a bedroll on the floor, next to a table of oils and embalming tools. Right about then the friendly-neighborhood-killing-jester-assassin came in. He stopped in the door, looking me over before smirking brightly. "How does the Listener feel?" he asked, closing the door. I watched him warily. "Don't worry, Listener! Cicero brought you here after you started running around the Sanctuary, cutting and slashing and fighting with invisible enemies! And Cicero is the 'crazy' one!" he giggled darkly. "Oh, if I chance to see a CAT, I'll feed its corpse to my PET RAT!"
I blinked, wondering at the sudden outburst. "I did nothing else, nothing at all?" I pressed.
Cicero shook his head quickly. "Oh! I lie! You beat Nazir at a drinking game! He's much worse off," Cicero cackled. "And Cicero never knew Alysa could dance –"
"I did what?!" I danced?! A vague memory of spinning around came to me. I tried to remember who I was dancing with. And I beat Nazir at a drinking game? Impossible. I was about to ask Cicero when he started humming and examining the Night Mother.

I settled for watching him work, seemingly oblivious to my presence. It suited me: I needed to calm down and think. I decided I really did have a huge problem with my mead obsession as I sat down on the floor by the table, my left leg close to me while my right made an arch. I didn't bother asking Cicero if I could help, or which bottles or tools to pass him: I doubted he would have let me, and I had no idea which bottle or tool was what. So I laced my fingers together on my knee, put my chin on top and watched.

He hummed and sang now and again, occasionally doing some kind of a jig. As I watched him, I wondered why exactly I had fallen in love with Cicero. I knew one couldn't choose who to fall in love with, I was just wondering why Cicero: the jester, the assassin, the madman whose moods could change as easily as one might breathe. Granted, he had skills as an assassin I could only guess at, considering I had not known him before now, nor really seen him at his best.

He was physically attractive, with a tall, lithe form, undoubtedly still toned beneath his jester's garb, if not as refined as he once was. I suspected he trained often enough, despite what most of the Sanctuary might think of him. Plus, as a jester he had surely learnt a few other tricks and habits, outside of what the Brotherhood taught. I could only assume this because he never seemed to get tired. Cicero could only have made it to Keeper by being dedicated to the Old Ways and the Night Mother, as well as a gifted assassin. It was the only way one could get so high up, minus the odd exception, like myself, I supposed.

I shuddered to think what it must have been like for Cicero to lay down his blade for embalming oils and the likes. As an assassin from Cyrodiil, he had surely had some exciting contracts, and I could only assume that since he had been the only one to come up, his Sanctuary had been completely destroyed like so many others. Loosing Family, your duty as an assassin and whatever other hardships Cicero had surely experienced… it was no wonder he was crazy. I had a kind of admiration for his perseverance, and those brief moments of sanity left me feeling that the Fool of Hearts was a little different to the man Cicero had been, a little more extreme in each regard.

A small smile played my lips as I leaned my cheek on my hands instead. Cicero had been the first person I had met who made me believe there could be more to life than just being an assassin, killing however and whenever I pleased. Oh, I loved it, let none misunderstand me, and once I started I could go on and on, the sounds of man and mer dying, the smell of fear and blood… I appreciated it all, but Cicero gave me a kind of peace that was different to the relief and ecstasy taking a life brought, something I had come to accept I would probably never know for myself, something I would only see around me. I felt reasonably safe with the jester, despite his attempt to kill me when I was declared Listener.

In fact, thinking back, I would have done the same thing he had, were our positions reversed. Where his personality was concerned, I couldn't say much: he was pleasant to be with, although erratic and sadistic at times, but loyal and apparently kind and someone I trusted, considering he had somehow convinced me to come to his area of the Sanctuary. Whether or not it was actually genuine care for me, or if he was just looking out for me because I was the Listener, I couldn't yet say. But I was fairly sure it was the former.

Cicero really wasn't doing much with the Night Mother, just checking for things only he knew, applying oil to certain areas and carefully replacing her bound body in the coffin. I'd ask him about what he was doing sometime. Suddenly he jumped back. "All done, Mother!" he sang, clasping his hands together.
"Cicero," I started when he turned around. He glanced at me a few times as he put his things away. "I was rude last night when we came back from Falkreath, and I…" I trailed off. I just couldn't bring myself to say a heartfelt 'I'm sorry' or 'Thank you'; I never had. Cicero beamed at me, nodding. "Cicero understands," he looked away to pull off his gloves. He held out a hand to me. "Cicero accepts the most honorable Listener's statement," he said wittily. I grinned at his way around my not-quite-said apology, and took his hand.

He pulled me up faster than I had really expected. We were almost nose to nose, our hands linked at Cicero's chest. His grin told me he knew I was a little uncomfortable. My breath caught in my throat as we stared at each other for a few seconds. We let each other go at the same time. I broke Cicero's gaze. "Uhm… I… should find Nazir, and check up on… the things I acquired from the client," I stumbled over my words, wondering how I could be reduced to a stuttering little girl in Cicero's presence.
Cicero nodded. "Cicero was thinking he might train today, if the honorable Listener would like to join me," he said, his eyes hopeful.
"Yes, I'd like that," I nodded quickly, remembering why it was so difficult for me to leave the Fool of Hearts. I smiled. Cicero beamed.

And I almost tripped over my own feet. Almost.

I wandered through the Sanctuary to find Babette first. If anyone would have an accurate description of what happened the night before, it was her. I found her slumped in a chair by Nazir's bed, the Redguard looking worse for wear. "Babette?" I whispered. Her eyes flared open and she jolted upright. Nazir moaned and I felt his pain. I swore off drinking more than necessary.
"Alysa," Babette greeted, her tone a little sleepy but she looked interested in me. "How–?"
"I drank a healing potion," I replied softly, gesturing her to come with me. She placed a bucket closer to Nazir and put his arm on its rim. We headed down to the dining hall.
"I should have thought of that a long time ago," she hissed, irritated with herself. She stifled a yawn. "You were really going at it with Nazir last night," she laughed softly.
"I really have no idea how, though: I've never beaten anyone at a game like that, and as of this morning I have no plan to do it again," I admitted, snorting. "So, what exactly happened last night?"
Babette blinked slowly. "You danced, you beat Nazir, Festus complained about the noise, Arnbjorn didn't make another appearance until this morning, Gabriella danced and did readings, and I get to clean up the mess afterwards…. Oh, and then you started chasing something around the Sanctuary, Cicero followed and I had to make sure everyone got to where they needed to be."

My mouth made an 'O' shape. Seems Cicero was right about what happened. "I will not let this happen to me again… I suppose I should be grateful it turned out as well as it had…." I said, while Babette nodded sleepily. "Could I fetch a healing potion for Nazir and you head off to sleep?"
Babette nodded. "You know where to find them," she stifled another yawn. I nodded and headed to her alchemy lab which looked over our resident pet Frostbite Spider Liz's hovel, and opened the cabinet. I took one of the stronger potions and headed back up to the sleeping quarters. Babette convinced a very sarcastic Nazir to cooperate for long enough to drink some of the potion.

In between the two volleying sharp remarks back and forth – and a few muttered curses from Nazir – I left to make sure the amulet and letter I had gotten from Amaund was still hidden under my newly-acquired leather armor.

Satisfied they were both there, I went looking for Astrid. Gabriella stopped me when I passed her by Babette's alchemy lab. "Astrid isn't here, I believe she's found another recruit, Listener. She'll return later today," she said, not looking up from her tarot cards.
I frowned at the hooded Dunmer woman, nodding slowly. "I see…." Well, if that was the case, I might as well start training. Or find Arnbjorn and convince him to check my weapons and armor for weak spots and repair them. I shook my head at myself when I returned to my chest, annoyed I hadn't thought straight – I could have taken it with me and been in the training are now, working on blade techniques.

I took my daggers, bow and Shrouded Armor from my chest and trudged to the main room where Arnbjorn usually worked on armor and weapon projects. As sure as I was Listener, he was at the grindstone, sharpening a sword. "Arnbjorn," I greeted over the shrill sound of metal on stone.
"Tidbit," he growled, taking the blade off and letting the stone wheel to a halt. I hefted my things a little higher.
"I'd like you to have a look at these, and repair them if they're damaged," I said. "Where can I put them for you?" I had learnt long ago that giving Arnbjorn half a chance to say 'no' meant spending the next week convincing him to consider it. Arnbjorn jerked his head at the workbench, and I nodded curtly, putting my armor on the table, daggers on top of that and my bow next to the pile.

I headed back to the training area, thinking to take one of the many training weapons to fight with, when I saw Cicero already busy with a long ebony dagger, his movements sure and agile as he turned, ducked, slashed and stabbed. I'd never seen anyone use so much of their body when fighting. I was awestruck, really, especially when he switched hands and was just as accurate. I might use two daggers, but I'd never really spent time on practicing with my left hand to the same level as my right. I stepped closer.

"Listener!" Cicero shouted.
I sighed, letting a lazy half-smile creep over my face. "Keeper," I returned. He sheathed his blade and straightened before bowing deeply and making a wide gesture at the Brotherhood's array of wooden weapons when he straightened. "Choose your plaything!"
I sniggered. Playthings of an assassin they were… I took a dagger, Cicero unbuckling his ebony blade and taking up a wooden one of the same length as his blade.

We circled each other briefly, and I suddenly found myself flat on my back.

I stared open-mouthed at Cicero. He didn't fight fair! Not that I ever did, but I hadn't even seen that coming! I frowned at him when I stood up, taking my guard more seriously. I, apparently, had a lot more to learn from Cicero than I had realized. I spent most of my time dodging him, but even that was poorly accomplished on my part. Cicero seemed intent on teaching the hard way.

I couldn't find a gap in his defences, and he was much more agile than I was. After my umpteenth slap with his dagger, and the second time I ended on the floor, I snarled angrily at him. Why did he have to be so difficult?

I charged him, dagger ready. Cicero caught me, spun me round and twisted my training dagger from my grasp and held his to my throat. He doesn't fight fair, I complained in my head.
He has learnt to survive, my Listener; through being harder, faster and cheating my Keeper has learnt to keep himself alive, and defend my vessel, the Night Mother's voice resounded in my head. I felt my anger dissipate, fading into cool clear-headedness, and I leaned into Cicero's embrace. He had been through more than I could imagine… a plan formed in my mind. I could feel Cicero loosen his hold on me.

I struck.

I drove my elbow deep into Cicero's ribs, twisting out of his grip as I gripped his wrist and pulled the dagger out of his hands.

I felt a moment of happiness: I might win.

Cicero was still faster to react: we ended in a deadlock, my training dagger to his throat and one of his hidden, real daggers in my side, just under my ribs.

I frowned at him, confused. Where did he hide all his weapons? "You learn quickly, Alysa. But you need to learn a lot, sweet and honorable Listener," Cicero whispered, his eyes shining. I had a feeling he was going to enjoy teaching me. I wasn't sure I was going to enjoy it as much.

Voices came from the passage to the Door. It sounded like a man and a woman, probably Astrid and her new assassin. My new brother. Our new brother. "Let's meet the new blood," Cicero winked, quickly stepping back and sheathing his hidden blade. I had a lot to learn from him.

I put the training dagger on the table, and stepped out into the main room. I hadn't quite expected my new brother to be who he was.