A/N: Sorry for the long wait! School/life took a hold of me these past two weeks, so much so I hadn't even realized it had been so long! Again, a big shout out to all of my reviewers! Thank you so much! Fun fact, so far MF is about as long as a 252 page book! And we're only at chapter 11! Weee!

-Liliedove


Svenja breathed out steadily, watching as the fog twisted and turned while it rose in the evening air. She let out a satisfied sigh, smiling slightly as she stepped out onto the open road. Her hips swayed as she walked, a new purse of gold now tied to her belt. Close behind her walked another. His ethereal figure was luminescent, making the dim lighting before dark seem even duller than usual. He wore a robe which, in life, wouldn't have given one much reason to suspect him as being a member of the Dark Brotherhood; certainly not in these parts of the world. Fashion had certainly changed in the past two hundred years since his demise, but as one who spent many years living within the Empire, Svenja could suspect its origins.

His eyes rarely left her. She didn't need to look back to know: she could feel it, like a dagger pressed against her spine, propelling her forward. Though, over the past month and a half she had gotten used to it's presence and it did not bother her much anymore. There were times she could simply pretend he wasn't there, and it would almost seem as though it were the truth. She wouldn't admit it to anyone else lest she be put to shame, but she didn't much mind his company. Rather, it made things more interesting. It was quite entertaining to see the look on people's faces when they saw a ghost behind her; it made them think twice about attacking. On the other hand, it made things harder for her when it came time to make her kills. She had shifted her methods from killing during the night to killing during the day. What was the point of going by cover of night if you have a human torch following your every footstep? Perhaps it was a good thing. She used to have the confidence to hunt during the day, but it had been many years since she had practiced that method.

"You always surprise me, Sister." She glanced over her shoulder at him, raising an eyebrow. "You have extraordinary skills I have only occasionally seen. If I were still living, I would consider you as my Silencer."

She hummed. "I never thought I'd receive such a compliment, especially from one of the dead."

"For the eyes of mortals, death isn't quite what it seems."

"Is that so? Well, I suppose you never would have imagined you'd be brought back to the world of the living to be my keeper. But it must be more interesting to watch a woman's every step than a man's, is it not?" She chuckled.

A soft laugh resonated in his throat as a small smile grew across his face. "In life, I might have fallen victim if you had chosen to seduce me, but in death it matters little. Things such as lust and marriage has little value in death." The smile fell from Svenja's face as she paused on the road. She turned to look at him. "As a mortal, you may consider this to be a great and searing loss, but once you are there you will understand. It will mean little to you as well."

"So all that was important in life is but a lie?" She narrowed her eyes at him. "Is everything that made us human stolen away when we die?"

"What is it that makes one human or otherwise?" He replied. "And why must a thing in life be a lie simply because it isn't so in death? Things such as companionship, things such as love, are necessary in the world of the living. It is not as though one forgets the ties to this world after death, it has simply changed rolls."

Svenja continued to glare at him, her own thoughts and his words battling one another in her mind. "Well, I suppose that answers my question." She continued to walk.

"You are an interesting subject to watch, Ma'dam Svenja. It is not often one comes across one as talented as yourself. Why is it that the Listener has instructed one such as myself to watch you?"

"I don't trust her, that's why, and she doesn't like it."

Lucien hnmed, rubbing his chin. "This is most interesting. Why is this?"

"Well, for one thing she's been in the Dark Brotherhood for less than two years, and within that time all but a couple of the members were killed. I was in the Empire for years, and when I came back I found her in charge! Quiet, mysterious: she's a dark elf, I could expect no more than that. They are a race that doesn't trust others and isn't a race to be trust. They worship the daedra, and she is no different from the rest of them. How was I to even know she truly was the Listener and not a pretender?" Her voice displayed irritation. Fiddling with the purse on her side, she glared at the ground.

"She is the Listener, I can testify to that for I have seen the Night Mother and Lord Sithis with my own eyes. There is no need to doubt her position."

She huffed. "I know now that she is the Listener, but I still don't trust her loyalties. How am I to know if what she does is for the sake of the Brotherhood or for the sake of some other cult she follows?"

"If she is so secretive, how do you know she worships the daedra?" He questioned.

"How do you think?" Her tongue became sharper with every word, her anger boiling up into her eyes. "I did my own research, as any good assassin aught to do! And because of that, I was punished." Her fists were clenched.

Lucien paused before speaking again, then talking slowly. "Do you know the 5 tenets?"

"Of course I know the 5 tenets! It's written on the walls of every sanctuary." She threw her hands in the air.

"Tenet 4:Never steal the possessions-"

"Of a Dark Brother or Sister-"

"To do so is to-"

"invoke the Wrath of Sithis. I did not steal from her. I only took them from her room and out into the dining room to show the others the evidence of her connections with the Boethiah cult. Afterward I returned them to the exact location I found them in. I did not steal. I have no desire to take and keep her things."

Lucien paused again. "I understand."

"At least someone does." She muttered, shaking her head. "Anyone else would have done the same thing if they had suspicions about someone. I have respect for the position of Listener, but if she was a false leader, if her loyalties are tied in somewhere else that may someday put the Dark Brotherhood in danger. No, I cannot support that." A sour look stained her face. "I don't know what the Night Mother was thinking when she chose the Champion of Boethiah."

"Perhaps you should simply trust in the Night Mother's choosing. She sees beyond what you can see." Svenja glanced back at him again, furrowing her brow as she contemplated his words. They were then silent as they continued walking, the sun now low on the horizon. As they came to a fork in the road, Lucien stopped in his tracks. He watched as she continued walking in the wrong direction."Dawnstar is this way." He pointed to the right. She looked at him, smiling.

"We're not going to Dawnstar just yet."


"Nazir, are you sure they're ready to be out on their own?" Madrale shifted in her chair, twirling her pen between her fingers. Nazir leaned against the desk, his arms crossed against his chest.

"Of course I am! I think you're babying them too much. They are excellent assassins! Well, Mariella is at least. However, Bulmond has improved a lot in these past weeks. He can take on a regular contract: experience is the perfect teacher, especially for his type."

The Listener sighed, looking down at the contracts they had signed. Bulmond's was off in Winterhold. It wouldn't be a terribly long journey as long as he avoided the mountainous paths. There were frost trolls out that way, but he was born and raised in that hold. He must have known better than to tramp around in their territory unknowingly. It gave her some ease to know he wasn't assigned Mariella's contract, but that still made her feel uneasy.

"Mariella's contract is right outside of an Imperial camp. I don't like the sound of that."

"We can't simply ignore a contract." Madrale gave Nazir a blank stare. He looked dignified in his decision making, and he never go back on that belief, even if it was her who opposed his judgment.

"Yes, but wouldn't it have been better to send someone like Cicero instead?"

Nazir sighed and rolled his eyes. "Really now Madrale, give the girl some credit! I know it might not seem like it to you, but she's not a kid. She's an experienced fighter, and an apprenticed mage as well. If she gets into a jam she can send some illusion spells flying. They need to mature more before we bring in more recruits. You, me, Babette, heck even Cicero will be seen as gods in this Family, a skill level they can aim for but will never acquire. Bulmond and Mariella will be their peers, the ones they will look up to and model after. Whatever skill level they are at will set the standard. If they die now, they die. We can't have an organization full of immature assassins."

"I see your point." She muttered, then scribbling down notes on a paper she had already been writing on.

"Look, they'll be fine. Have faith in them! They'll pull us through. People had their reservations about you, but I never held you back. Now look where you're at!" Madrale glanced up to look at the smirk on his face. "Well, I suppose you would have advanced anyhow, seeing that you have the Night Mother's favor." He watched as she returned her attention to the paper again, dipping her pen before she continued scribbling. "Hey, why don't you take a break for a little while? It feels like it's getting around that time, so why don't you come eat with me?"

"What about Babette?" She questioned, not taking her eyes away from the parchment.

"What do you mean what about Babette?" He chuckled. "I was asking you to dine. Come now, you've got to stop and eat sometime, why not now? You know I make good company."

She paused, contemplating what he said. She looked up at him, and the back at her work a couple of times before giving a sigh of resignation. "Alright, just for a little while."

"Good!" He exclaimed, hitting a fist against his palm. "We've got fresh stew and some melons today. I got them from a hunter if you'd believe me. I cracked one open last night, it was pretty good! I have high hopes for the others!"


"Almost done, Mother." Cicero muttered as he picked the oil-rubbed cloth in between her toes. He carefully rubbed each nail, careful not to chip any. What else was there to do? The candle stubs were replaced, the dripped wax was removed, her body had been well oiled, the coffin was washed, the crevices were polished... He gasped. "Oh, how could I have forgotten! Poor, foolish Cicero! To forget such a thing!" He dashed to his room, returning as fast as his legs could carry him with another bottle in his hands. "I have it! I have it!" He jumped in the air in front of her, presenting the bottle. "See, I have it Mother! Cicero remembered! Oh, how could Cicero forget to perfume your lovely hair? A woman so fine should not go without her hair treated, NO no! Never could a thought like that be thought!" He began spraying it, then taking off his gloves and lightly working it in to her scalp.

When he heard the Listener's voice down below he paused, glancing over his shoulder. He couldn't quite see her, but he could hear her. Oh, by Sithis why did she have to stand so close to the wall! Move further away so Cicero can see! As if hearing, she wandered towards the table. Cicero clicked his toes and heels together in a little dance. He smiled merrily, then touching up on the Night Mother's hair again. "Do you see her Mother?" He whispered. He then chuckled softly, then humming a happy tune for a few moments before speaking again. "Do you see her Mother? How wonderful she is? Oh, but of course you do! Of course you see her!" He lightly pulled a few locks of hair down onto her shoulder. Staring at her for a moment, he crooked his head to the side, mimicking hers. "Some say that in life you were a dark elf too, Mother. Is that true?" He peeked around to her ears, a sight he already knew but was hoping would look different this time. "Oh!" He scowled, clenching his fists. "But they're too decayed! I cant tell!" His expression then softened. "But of course that's not your fault, Mother! That's just what happens when you're dead!" He then paused for a moment before giggling, a hand over his mouth. "Oh the thought! What if, perhaps, the Listener is a descendant of yours? Why, where else could she inherit such beauty but from you?"

He glanced over to the dining room again. The Listener now sat at the table, speaking with Nazir. Of course she was speaking with Nazir. He pouted. If Cicero were Listener, he would have made Madrale his Speaker! That way she would HAVE to talk to him ALL the TIME! Just like The Listener did with Nazir. Oh, but they spoke words to one another anyways, whether it was about the Dread Father's business or otherwise. They spoke too much! Too much for Cicero's liking!

Why didn't she seek him out to speak? It was always Cicero who goes to speak with her! She goes to Nazir, she goes to the un-child! By Sithis, she even went to that Svenja first! And Bulmond, and Mariella! Not poor CICERO! Forgotten! He was forgotten! Cicero was just the Keeper. Was he anything else? He thought back on the night they spoke, the night the Listener told Cicero all about her past. Oh how JOYFUL he was that she had spoken those words! But the sweet lady had not wanted Cicero's sweet kiss. Oh, how Cicero longed to give her sweet kisses! No, just one! One would do, and then Cicero could happily serve the Night Mother and the Dread Father! "Or maybe two. Or maybe just three." He muttered under his breath as he corked the bottle of myrrh.

It had been a long time since she spoke to him last. When was the last time? He bit his lip: he couldn't remember. Was it three days ago? Last week? Three weeks ago? Yesterday? Whenever it was, it was far to long ago! Was she ignoring him, now that she knew his feelings? She did know, did she not? Or perhaps she just thought Cicero was crazy? Yes, and that is why Cicero went in to kiss her that night. That must have been what she thought. Or maybe she didn't even know that those were his intentions? Oh, but how could someone like she miss something like that?

COULD someone like the Listener like someone like Cicero? At all? Could she not give him a chance? An inkling of a chance? No, of course not! He stomped his foot, then muttering to himself again.

"Cicero?'

He froze, then biting his lip as he glanced around, trying to think of what he should do. He stood straight up, clasping his hands together as he spun around on his feet, a large smile on his face. The Listener stood before him, giving Cicero a strange look. "Hello my Listener! What might Cicero do for you? Do you need him to sneak, and STAB, and maim? Cicero will be only too happy to oblige!"

"No, I don't have anything for you right now." She put a hand on her hip. His eyes followed before he closed them, shaking his head before looking back up into her eyes again.

"Really? Nothing, nothing at all for Cicero? Cicero is always happy to serve." He laced his fingers together behind his back.

"I didn't come over here to give you a task... I was just curious about what you were doing. You seemed quite upset, is everything alright?"

He squirmed on the inside. Oh Mother, restrain Cicero's desires! "Quite upset? Cicero didn't think he was quite upset, but perhaps he was?" He cocked his head to one side, and then the other. He closed his eyes, then shaking his head. "Nope! Nope. Cicero is perfectly fine! Nothing is amiss! The Listener worries about nothing, for nothing is the matter! No need to worry about silly old Cicero! No, the Listener shouldn't worry about a lowly servant like me."

She gave him another look. "Alright then, I better get back to work."

Cicero chuckled nervously as she turned to leave, flapping his lips wordlessly in the air for a moment before he could figure out what he was going to say. "Well, I, uh, Alright then! The Listener better get back to work!" He then quickly turned away, not daring to look to see if she glanced back at him. He then scowled again. "Look what you've done, Cicero!" He said hoarsely to himself. "Look what you've done! No need to worry? How stupid are you! No work for Cicero? Cicero should have done something without asking if it needed to be done! Just do it! You damn fool!" He kicked himself in the shin, then bouncing on one foot as he cooed over himself.

"Just a nail! Just a nail!" he called out to any witnesses. "Cicero just stepped on a nail, but he's alright!" He slowly put his foot down again, letting out a puff of breath. "Foolish, stupid, foolish, stupid, stupid, foolish, Cicero!"


Mariella stood with her back against a tree, watching from a distance. Her target was a farmer. She watched as he went back and forth, bringing piles of wheat to the mill, going back and forth all day. What a tiresome job a farmer had. Was this what Bulmond used to do? She thought of High Rock. She had seen plenty of farmers there, but never so hard working as these. To produce crop in such a cold climate! Of course, she herself did not know what it was like to live like a farmer. Her family had wealth and recognition. No daughter of her father's was going to marry someone so lowly as a farmer.

Rest assured to her father, she wasn't planning on getting married. As far as he knew, she was accepted into College of Winterhold, and was practicing magic there. How proud he was of her accomplishments in magic. She dared not to tell him that she honestly had little interest in it. Who wanted to be a weak mage who could only rely on magicka alone to survive? What if there was no magicka? Melee on the other hand, was exciting. Hand to hand, the strength and agility the body had to acquire! That was something to be proud about. Not that she thought poorly of the use of magic, it just wasn't very assuring in her eyes.

She watched as the farmer's wife approached him, telling him it was late and to come in for the night. A pity, really. The people of Skyrim could be so petty. The purpose of this contract? As much as she could tell, another man was lusting after her and thought that the death of her husband would drive her needy heart into his arms. What a foolish man. If all of these contracts were like this, she thought she might return to High Rock.

She looked wearily at the rise of rocks and hill beyond the farm. She had scouted the surrounding area earlier, and had discovered that an Imperial camp laid to the northwest. She had been thoroughly warned about the Imperial Legion, and how the Brotherhood had become a target of theirs as of late. Over the past month alone the other members reported seeing things or even being attacked by Imperials on sight. The last thing she needed was to get into a scrape with their lot.

She looked at the shadows around here: she still and a long while to wait before she could go into action. Restless, she wandered a ways. She wondered how Bulmond's contract was going. Surely he had met with his client already? She had overheard his contract, it sounded simple enough. Too simple. In fact, her own mission sounded too simple. What difference were they making? What would killing a farmer out in the middle of no where do to help aid the reputation of the Brotherhood? If she killed stealthily without the wife ever knowing who it was who killed her husband, what would be the point? Even if word did get out that someone was assassinated in the forest, it wouldn't connect back to them. What useless contracts! Why take on such trivial assignments?

She thought of the Imperial camp again.


The Imperial soldiers sat around the fire, drinking and laughing. Not much happened out in Hjaalmarch, which left the Legionnaires off their guards. There was a mixed group of people there: either they were joyful for a break from the fighting on the line, or they were restless for not being able to continue fighting on the line. The joyful ones, of course, were the ones who were drinking and merry. The others looked on silently or complained to one another about when they thought they'd get on the road again, if ever. It was past dark now, the constellations brightly gleaming in the sky. The peacefulness of the night, however, was quickly forgotten when a blood curdling scream filled the air.

"What was that?" The soldiers stood to their feet, beginning to look around. They didn't have to look far to find the source. From a distance, the screams grew louder until a figure could be seen: a young woman, dressed in rags. She was panic-struck, tripping over herself. A moment later they could see why: a pack of wolves was following shortly behind, lunging at her with their claws.

"GET OFF ME! GET OFF ME! HELP! SOMEONE PLEASE HELP!" The young women fell to the ground, the wolves nipping and growling at her. The restless soldiers were the first to come to her aid.

"Die you damn wolf!" One cried, slicing at them with her sword.

The young woman tried bringing herself back to her feet, struggling with the task. She whimpered, grabbing onto the arms of one of the legionnaires. Within seconds the other wolves lay dead on the ground, the soldiers sheathing their swords. "It's alright miss, you're alright." The man said, patting her gently. She recoiled, screaming out in pain.

"Bring her over here!" A man cried. The legionnaire carried her over to a chair, lightly setting her down. The man met them there, a bag in his hands. "Let me take a look at you, young lady." She sniffled as she looked down at the handsome man.

"Are you a doctor?"

"Yes, I am the medic for the Imperial Legion. Hold still, I need to check if these wounds are infected. Don't worry, I won't do anything to harm you." He lightly turned her arms and legs over, then moving behind to look at her back. "These wounds need to be properly dressed. I have to ask you to undress. The other women here can help you with that, they've bandaged each other enough to know how to clean your wounds. You can stay here for the night, rest assured. We have a bedroll you can use, and then in the morning I'll take a better look at those wounds."

"Wait, but-"

"You aren't thinking about going back on the road at this hour? A young woman like you, all alone? There's no telling what will happen to you! You'll likely bleed out before morning!"

"Relius, you don't need to frighten the poor thing!" The legionnaire scowled.

"I'm telling the truth! She needs to know it, or she will die!" He retorted.

"Wait, please listen to me." She said hoarsely.

"Someone get her some water." The doctor shouted.

"Here, take my canteen." A woman said as she offered it up. Mariella brought it to her lips, slowly sipping it a few times before gulping. She then handed it back to the woman, bowing her head coyly. "Thank you."

"Why were you out on the road at this hour of the night, and alone?" The legionnaire said gently, bending down to her level. "A wee thing like you could easily get eaten up by the monsters that roam out here in the wilderness."

She sniffled, trying to hold a brave look on her face, but wavering back towards weeping again. In between staggered breaths, she spoke. "My, my uncle. He lives up in Solitude. My father died when I was young, and my mother and I could never afford to live in such a place as that. But my uncle! He's there, and he's tried helping us! My mother is just too proud to take any alms! My poor, gracious uncle! He's sick! Dying! One of the last of my living blood! My mother had to stay with the mill, but I just had to see my dear uncle!"

"Calm down lass, we understand what you're saying. There's no need to be ashamed." One man said as he handed her a piece of bread. She broke off a chunk, placing it in her mouth and savoring each bite. When she had finished it, her expression was overtaken by fear once more.

"I was fine, on the road. Until just a short while ago! There I was, passing this farm not far from this very spot! It was late, and I was thinking about stopping there for the night if they would allow me to stay. As I was coming up to their home I heard an awful wailing from inside! A woman! And then a woman ran out! She was masked so I couldn't see her face, but she was wearing black and red leather armor, and was carrying a bloody sword!"

The soldiers began muttering to one another under their breaths, truly startled looks on their faces. "It's the Dark Brotherhood!" One declared.

"BE QUEIT and let the girl SPEAK!" The doctor scolded. "Please, continue on miss."

"And, and there she was! And there I WAS! She saw me! And as soon as I saw that blade, I ran as fast as my legs could carry me! I thought she would kill me! I ran into the forest because it was my best bets of escaping, and then! And then that pack of wolves began to CHASE me! I ran, but they were too fast! I saw the fire here, and it was... It was my only hope."

"It was a smart move for you to come this way." He said, holding her hand. "What is your name?"

"Mari. Mari Gaerton."

"A Breton huh? I assumed as much. Well, Mari Gaerton, you should rest now. You're safe, we won't let you come to any harm." She nodded her head slowly. "Halvera, come and help dress her wounds! It would be indecent for me to do it with the places she must be cleaned."

"Yes Sir," she replied, taking Mariella by the arm. "Come now, let's get you cleaned up. Don't worry, you'll be alright. I've seen worse."

Mariella lay awake in bed, glancing around. The camp was now quiet. Everyone must have been asleep, save the watch. Slowly she get up, wincing slightly. This was nothing in comparison to Bulmond's wounds. She could heal herself easily, but it would ruin her masquerade. Perhaps just a little, just to save herself from the pain. She placed a hand on her side, letting out a small sigh of relief with the tension taken away. Edging to the opening of the tent, she scanned the perimeter. The watch patrolled the outer edges of the camp: they wouldn't expect an intruder from within. She watched as the commander paced about his tent, speaking with another. She spotted a chest amongst the boxes in the corner behind him. There were papers on the table as well. All she needed to do was wait until the right opportunity presented itself.


"What are we doing here?" Lucien kept a closer distance than usual.

Svenja put a finger to her lips as she continued to walk. They were now outside of a small village in Haffingar. It was already in the middle of the night, not long before the first hours of day.

"Are you dealing with... Personal business?"

"I said hush!" She whispered harshly. "We don't need anyone hearing us now do we? You're already as bright as the sun, and seeing that you won't depart from me for a single moment the least you can do is stay quiet!"

As they moved forward, they heard voices and clinking armor behind them. They quickly ducked behind a boulder, watching as the Legionnaires past. Once they were at a reasonable distance, she signaled Lucien to follow as she swiftly crouched through the underbrush. It didn't take long for him to realize they were tailing them.

"If I've heard correctly," she whispered, "the man I'm looking for is right inside this small village. All I need now is to figure out which house he's in."

"You have schemes up your sleeves."

"You've got that right." She smiled as she watched the men enter one of the homes. Taking the long route, she sneaked behind the home, glancing into one of the windows. Within she saw the two soldiers speaking with a man, clearly of a higher rank. She hnmed happily to herself at her accomplishment. "Right on the mark, Svenja. Lucien, we'll stay put until those soldiers leave again. Then, I'll have the attention of Commander Maro all to myself."