Chapter 14: Remnants and Ruins

Once outside the ravaged Sanctuary, Lumen steps away from the others. Nazir calls for her, but she ignores him and continues walking away. She will apologize for her rudeness later. Right now, what she needs most is to be away from everyone for a few moments. Just a few, blessed moments alone to collect her thoughts. To think on everything the Night Mother told her, to process what Astrid said to her, and finally to attempt to deal with the overwhelming pain of loss that threatens to suffocate her. She never expected to care about anyone within the Brotherhood. It started out as nothing more than a job. But little by little, the group of assassins gradually became her family and losing them hurts more than she ever imagined.

Most of the fires started by the Penitus Oculatus agents have burned down to ash, and the smoke has dissipated enough to allow the light of the twin moons to break through the forest canopy. Other than a few tendrils of smoke rising above the trees, it would be impossible for anyone in Falkreath to know anything is amiss - and she'll have to make sure it stays that way. The dead soldiers would need to be cleared from the path to avoid grabbing the attention of any passersby on their way to or from Falkreath. The last thing the Brotherhood needs is to have guards snooping around while they try to move Mother. And just how long would that take? The coffin weighs a ton, and they will need to salvage whatever supplies they can from their beleaguered home, and then go… Where?

The Brotherhood will have to leave Falkreath behind. Even if the Sanctuary hadn't been compromised, it is little more than a tomb for their fallen siblings now. Mother needs a new home and so does her broken family. That's assuming the others actually accept her as their leader, and they may not, even though Astrid named her as such before she died.

Lumen's fingers tighten around the hilt of the Blade of Woe when she thinks of Astrid. She had not been very fond of Astrid toward the end, but she never thought it would come to this. She never thought she'd have to kill the woman, or that she'd come home to find her siblings bloodied, broken bodies strewn across their home. She closes her eyes tight when her vision blurs, refusing to let the tears fall. Because she knows if she starts crying now, she won't be able to stop. And it wouldn't do to fall apart now. Not with so much to be done.

"Lumen?"

Cicero's voice startles her out of her brooding. She'd been so lost in her own thoughts, she almost forgot there was anyone else nearby. She should be ashamed, really. Here she is wallowing in her own self-pity while Cicero is standing beside her, his eyes wide with concern as he nervously wrings his hat in his hands. His face is dirty with ash, blood and sweat. Cicero has now seen three Sanctuaries fall, and yet here he is pulling Lumen away from edge of despair.

To her silence, he says, "Cicero helped Nazir take Festus down from the tree. Dearest Babette was- well, understandably upset when she saw him like that."

"Good," she says weakly. "Sorry I walked away, I just-" she waves her hand in the air, grasping for the right words and finding none.

"You needed to think," he says. "Cicero does understand. But Nazir and Babette are waiting on your instruction. You are the rightful leader of the Dark Brotherhood, and your family needs you."

"I'm no leader," she murmurs. "I don't know how to lead."

"That is not true," Cicero says, his sharp, fixed smile softening into something more real. "You are very bossy at times- most of the time, actually. You will have absolutely no trouble telling everyone what to do."

Lumen breathes a soft laugh, feeling something loosen in her chest when she does. "Thanks," she says without an ounce of her usual acerbity. After cleaning the Blade of Woe on the armor of a fallen Penitus Oculatus agent, Lumen tucks the knife in her belt and turns to walk back to the others with Cicero in tow.

"So, what now?" Nazir asks as she nears. "Is this the end for us?"

"It doesn't have to be," Lumen says, nervously running a hand through her filthy hair. "The Night Mother was unusually chatty tonight."

Cicero gasps, his manic smile growing wide at the news. "What did Mother say?"

"She wants me to speak with Amaund Motierre once more," Lumen tells them. "The contract is still on. We're still going to assassinate the true emperor."

Cicero squeaks excitedly, but Babette doesn't seem to share his enthusiasm. "How are we supposed to accomplish that?" the little vampire asks. "The plan is ruined and everyone is gone."

"There's the four of us, and-" Lumen pauses, not wishing to speak of Arnbjorn just yet. "If you want to leave the Brotherhood behind, I understand. What happened here tonight was terrible, and I don't blame you if you want to start a new life. But-" Despite her exhaustion and heartache, Lumen feels more certain of herself at this moment than she ever has at any other point in her life. She stands up a little straighter, her voice a little louder when she says, "The Night Mother still watches over us, and as long as I still breathe, I'll see to it that her will is done. The Dark Brotherhood is going to kill the Emperor of Tamriel, and we're going to fucking slaughter Commander Maro."

"I'm too old and set in my ways to start a new life," Babette says, chancing a smile. "I go where you go, Listener."

"The Dark Brotherhood is my life, I'm not going to leave now," Nazir says. "But we can't stay here."

"Dawnstar," Cicero breathes. "There's a Sanctuary in Dawnstar! We could move there!"

"That's what we're going to do," Lumen says. "But first we-" her words are cut off when the Black Door opens with such force the metal door slams against the stone wall of the alcove.

Arnbjorn stumbles outside, appearing more feral than usual with his shoulders hunched forward and his hair disheveled from repeatedly running his hands through it. His face is obscured in shadow, but in a flash of moonlight, Lumen can see his eyes; bloodshot from grieving, wide with fury, and fixated right on her. For a moment the forest is still. No one knowing what to say, and knowing that whatever they do say will only incite his wrath. Lumen takes a step nearer to Cicero, and her movement triggers Arnbjorn's predatory reflexes like a fleeing rabbit would entice a wolf into pursuit.

"You," he snarls.

And then he is on her, heedless of the cries of their siblings and completely mindless with rage. He grabs her shoulder with one hand and wraps the other around her neck as he shoves her hard against the dirt slope of the grotto. Unearthed roots and rocks dig into Lumen's back, and she cries out in both shock and pain. She reaches for her dagger, but Arnbjorn squeezes her neck tighter and says, "Don't even think about it."

"Stop!" Babette yells, her hands knotting in her tattered dress. "Please don't fight!"

Cicero draws his ebony blade and presses the tip of the dagger against the side of Arnbjorn's throat. "Let her go, sheepdog," he says, his voice so low and rough that Lumen scarcely recognizes it.

Nazir edges closer, and the sound of the Redguard drawing his sword from its sheath is what finally grabs Arnbjorn's attention. "I don't know what's going on between you three, and I honestly don't care. But I won't let you kill the Listener and I would rather not kill you, Arnbjorn," Nazir says, his voice deceptively calm. "So let her go, brother."

Slowly, Arnbjorn releases his hold on her, and Lumen's legs fold beneath her as she gasps for air. Her throat burns and her head swims, and she's only distantly aware of Cicero crouching at her side, whispering, begging, pleading for a command. "Just tell Cicero what to do, tell him to end the sheepdog's miserable life and he will."

"No," she gasps, her voice strained. "You are not to kill him. No one is to kill him."

Arnbjorn stumbles away from his siblings. Lost, broken, and practically drowning in the cold, crush of grief. Finally he turns to face them, his gaze falling on Lumen once again. "This is your fault!" he bellows, waving a hand at the destruction all around them. "All of it! Everyone is dead because of you!"

"How do you figure?" Lumen snaps, her voice finally coming back to her. "Astrid sold us out! She betrayed the Brotherhood, not me! You were right there when she admitted it, so don't you dare pretend otherwise!"

Arnbjorn shakes his head, clearly unable to think of anything that would excuse his wife's behavior. "Astrid betrayed the Brotherhood because of you, and I betrayed her because of you!" He takes a breath, his voice low and tremulous when he says, "There is nothing I regret more than the day we brought you into our family."

Cicero helps Lumen to her feet, while Nazir sheathes his sword. He and Babette share a confused look, and the little vampire asks, "How exactly did you betray Astrid?"

"I was unfaithful," Arnbjorn admits, narrowing his eyes at Lumen. But then he looks away from her, wiping sweat from his brow. "And I didn't even get the chance to tell her what I had done."

Babette raises her brows in interest, but says nothing as she looks from Lumen to Arnbjorn. Even Nazir seems surprised. Lumen inwardly groans, she never wanted anyone in the Brotherhood to know anything untoward had happened between her and Arnbjorn.

"And what good would that have done?" Cicero asks, his hand gently resting on Lumen's shoulder, unwilling to move away from her in case Arnbjorn strikes again. "You confess thinking it will alleviate your guilt, when all it does it hurt her more than keeping it a secret ever would. What Astrid did not know certainly was not hurting her."

"Don't," Arnbjorn snaps. "Don't even talk to me, clown. I-" he gasps, doubling over and clutching at his stomach. "I hope you're happy, elf. You finally got what you wanted. The Brotherhood is yours."

"I never wanted this to happen!" Lumen snaps, needing Arnbjorn to believe her, but uncertain as to why. She steps closer to him, careless in her anger. "Do you really think I wanted see my family butchered? Do you honestly think I wanted Astrid to die? I was content to Listen, and let her lead as she had always done."

He shakes his head, his hands resting upon his knees. "You owe me more than your lies," he says roughly.

"I'm not lying!" she says, her voice rising in pitch. Cicero's grip on her shoulder tightens, and for a moment she isn't sure if he's offering support or wishing to silence her. But when she sees Arnbjorn's nails growing longer and sharper and his ears extending into furred tips, she realizes Cicero is trying to pull her away from him. Fear washes over her when she glances up at the two full moons in the night sky. If Arnbjorn is unreasonable now, he'll be unreachable when he transforms.

Arnbjorn stumbles away from the broken remnants of his family, groaning in pain as his bones begin to snap and lengthen. The groan morphs into a scream, then a howl when his flesh tears and regrows within a matter of seconds. His armor rips as his body outgrows it, and a thick coat of white hair sprouts across his bare flesh.

"The sheepdog is not going to eat us, is he?" Cicero asks, clearly unnerved by the sight of Arnbjorn's body breaking and reshaping before their eyes.

"Hard to say at this point," Babette says. "Walk to the Sanctuary, but do it slowly. You should never run from one of Hircine's, it attracts their attention."

"Good to know," Lumen breathes, and the group moves slowly toward the Black Door, slipping inside while Arnbjorn is still in the throes of an agonizing transformation.

Nazir pulls the heavy door closed. "Since we're stuck in here, we may as well get to work," he says. "We have siblings to lay to rest before we do anything else."

A day has passed since the destruction of the Falkreath Sanctuary. The group of assassins had laid their fallen siblings to rest, and then proceeded to salvage what supplies they could. When it came time to venture outside, no one had been eager to be the first to leave the relative safety of the Sanctuary, fearing an angry werewolf might be waiting for them. But on the other side of the Black Door, there was no trace of Arnbjorn except for the tattered remains of his shrouded armor.

Moving the Night Mother's coffin had been an arduous task, but Cicero, Nazir and Lumen eventually got the heavy sarcophagus out of the Sanctuary and loaded onto a wagon. Lumen's horse, Felix, had been easy to hitch to the wagon, but Shadowmere had been another story. With Lucien's help, Lumen managed to convince the horse to cooperate, and now the group is on their way through Riverwood.

Nazir slows the wagon to a stop just on the edge of town, near a stonework bridge that will take them across the White River and north to Whiterun. Babette lightly dozes against his shoulder, her tiny form hidden beneath a thick cloak to protect her from the sunlight.

Lumen hops off the back of the wagon; a satchel of gold hanging heavy at her hip, and a supply list in hand. "So who wants to go with me?"

"I'll stay here with Babette and the Night Mother if you don't mind. I'm too tired to haggle with any shopkeepers," Nazir says. He'd offered to steer the wagon so the others could nap on the way to Riverwood. Lumen is still tired from not sleeping well, but Cicero is positively bursting with energy. Apparently the Imperial didn't require much sleep at all.

"I don't mind," Lumen answers. "Come on, Cicero. We're going shopping."

"Ooh!" Cicero leaps off the wagon and lands beside Lumen. "Cicero loves shopping. He especially loves shopping for new shoes! Actually, Cicero could use some new boots..."

"Your boots are fine," Lumen says, glancing down at Cicero's feet as they walk into the town.

"They're dingy and stained," he says, sticking his bottom lip out in a mock pout. "Skyrim is nothing but mud and dirt roads, unlike Cyrodiil where the streets are properly paved and maintained."

Lumen shakes her head, electing not to debate with Cicero about shoes of all things. Instead, she grabs him by the wrist and steers him toward the Sleeping Giant Inn. "Wait- let's go in here before we go by the Trader," she says.

Cicero doesn't resist, and once they are inside the inn he grins at her and says, "Is sweet Lumen so eager to get Cicero into a bed?"

"What? No! I mean- not no, but-" Lumen huffs, and Cicero laughs at how flustered she is. "That's not why we're here."

"It's not? Well that is a little disappointing," Cicero says, and glances around the inn, which is mostly empty aside from the bartender and a bard who seems more interested in writing a letter than strumming his lute.

Lumen knows she's blushing like an idiot. She doesn't really know how to deal with Cicero ever since she read his journals. He cares about her, Sithis knows why, but it's freaking her out. And the fact that she cares for him frightens her even more, and it's not something she wants to think about. It's just easier to ignore her emotions rather than face them. Even if it's getting rather difficult to do so lately.

The Nord bartender looks up from his book and to Lumen when she approaches the counter. "How can I help you? We got food, drink, and empty rooms," he says gruffly.

"I need to talk to Delphine," Lumen says, looking around and seeing no sign of the Breton. "Is she here?"

"Nope."

"Er, do you know when she'll be back?" Lumen asks.

"Nope," he says again, glancing back down at his book.

Lumen growls in frustration. "If she's not here then why in the Void did she ask me to come speak with her? She said it was important!"

The Bartender glares at her now. "I don't make it my business to know her business. Wait- are you Lumen? She said a foul-tempered Wood Elf might come skulking around, but she didn't have much hope for it."

Cicero cackles at that. "Sweet Lumen would not be so foul-tempered if she'd let Cicero take her to bed."

Lumen takes a deep breath, quelling the urge to throttle Cicero in the middle of the inn. "Yes," she says stiffly, hoping to speak over Cicero's blabbering. "I'm Lumen."

"Delphine left a week ago with some old codger and one of the local hunters. She didn't say much, just that she was leaving the inn to me. She left a letter for you, though," the bartender says as he produces a folded up letter from his pocket. "And no, I didn't read it."

"I would even pay for the room! Oh, yes, humble Cicero has always been a gentleman," Cicero purrs. "Yes, yes, Cicero will wine and dine his sweet Lumen before bending her over a table and-"

"Would you please stop that?" Lumen snaps, swatting at him and missing when he dances out of the way. With her letter from Delphine in hand, she turns away from the amused bartender, muttering a 'thank you' as she follows after Cicero.

Cicero grins at her, careful to stay well out of reach as they exit the inn. "Stop what?"

"Stop being a shit," Lumen says, unable to keep from smiling. Even if she doesn't know what to do with her feelings regarding him, that damn jester can always get a smile out of her.

"Cicero cannot make any promises, but he will try," he says, seemingly pleased to see a smile on her face. "So what does the letter say?"

Lumen leans against the wood railing of the inn's porch and flips the letter open, frowning as she reads it. "It says she's gone to some place called Karthspire and she wants me to meet her there."

"You do not seem very excited," Cicero says, leaning beside her and peering at the letter.

"I'm not," she says. "Karthspire is in the Reach. That place gives me the creeps."

"Something gives you 'the creeps'?" Cicero asks, chuckling in amusement.

"The Reach certainly does," Lumen says, folding the letter. "The hills have eyes."

"You are talking about the Forsworn, yes? They're not so scary," he says with an indignant sniff.

"I just don't like being watched," she explains, beckoning for Cicero to follow her to the Riverwood Trader. "Or worse- hunted." Lumen waves her hand, dismissing the subject. "Anyway, I'll worry about that later. Right now I'm more concerned with getting Mother settled and finishing our contract."

It was late afternoon by the time Cicero and Lumen returned to the wagon with supplies. After noticing how exhausted her companions were, Lumen decided to make camp by the riverside. Nazir and Babette are sleeping in their respective tents while Cicero and Lumen keep watch, not that they really need to with Lucien drifting along the edges of their small campsite.

"Explain to Cicero how it's 'not necessary' for him to get a new pair of boots, but purchasing wine for yourself is?" Cicero asks, as he sits in the grass and leans his back against the wheel of the wagon.

"It's necessary if I am to stay in a good mood," Lumen says dryly, settling beside him. "Besides the wine is only, what- seven gold? Not the seven hundred gold it would cost to buy you some fancy new boots."

Cicero bumps Lumen's shoulder with his own in response, and they both fall silent. Content to watch the torchbugs flicker across the shimmering surface of the river as evening slowly fades to dusk. Lumen glances over her shoulder toward the tents of her sleeping companions, then back to the river. She shifts around in the grass, tucking her legs beneath her, before feeling restless only a few seconds later and stretching them out in front of her. It's only when she begins fussing with the buckles on her boots that she catches Cicero staring at her.

"What?" she asks.

"You are driving Cicero crazy with all your fidgeting," he says, and Lumen would take it for a complaint if not for the soft look in his eyes. His hand cautiously trails along her shoulders, and when she doesn't shrug him off, he gently squeezes the muscle between her neck and shoulder.

Lumen sighs as Cicero's nimble fingers work the tense muscle and melt away weeks of pent-up tension. "By the Eight, that feels wonderful," she says. "You're really good at this."

"So are you going to tell Cicero what's on your mind? You seem rather nervous." Cicero repositions himself so that he sits behind her, both hands now sliding across her shoulders and working the knots out of her muscles.

"Do I?" she asks, which is a stupid question because she is nervous.

"Are you worried the sheepdog may be hunting us?" he asks, brushing her hair aside to give him better access to her neck. "Cicero has not seen hide nor hair of the beast since we left Falkreath. He's likely gone somewhere to lick his wounds. Perhaps he'll go back to his other family."

"His other family?" Lumen asks, glancing over her shoulder at Cicero. "What do you mean?"

"You really don't know?"

"Arnbjorn and I never spoke much," Lumen says, growing impatient. "Just tell me."

"Before I left Falkreath, Veezara told me the sheepdog used to be a Companion. You know, the group of warriors based in Whiterun? He left them well over fifteen years ago and joined the Brotherhood."

"I'm having a difficult time picturing him rescuing Khajiit kittens from trees." Lumen smiles a bit at the thought, but then her smile fades and she says, "I'm not worried about him. I don't think he would stalk us from the shadows. He would challenge me head-on, just as he did back in Falkreath."

"All right, so if you're not worried about the sheepdog, then what is it?" Cicero's fingers leave her neck to rub soothing circles across the sore muscles between her shoulder blades.

"I have plenty of reasons to be nervous," she says. However, the responsibility of seeing her family and Mother to a safe Sanctuary, killing the Emperor of Tamriel, and hunting down Commander Maro all seem like simple tasks compared to what is really bothering her. "But I suppose you want a specific answer."

"Specifics would be helpful," Cicero says, his voice taking on a hard edge, signaling his impatience.

"It's you."

His hands still and then pull away from her back. "Me? What did poor Cicero do?"

Lumen turns around to face him. "I suppose I have a bit of a confession to make," she says, knotting her fingers in her hair. "I, um- after I left you in Dawnstar I came back to Falkreath and I- well, I read your journals." Even though she is facing him, she is unable to meet his gaze. Fearing he may react poorly to having his privacy invaded. "Sorry."

"I see," he says slowly. "So why-"

"Because I missed you, damn it!" she snaps, not wishing to be interrogated and figuring she may as well throw caution to the wind and just say it. So what if she had a stupid, sentimental moment after she left him in Dawnstar? He shouldn't have left those journals lying around if he didn't want them to be read! But to her surprise Cicero is chuckling, his fingers gently touching her jaw and coaxing her to look at him.

A peculiar, little smile graces his lips. "Cicero was going to ask why you are still nervous. You read my journals, so you know where I stand. If anything, Cicero should be the nervous one."

"Are you?"

"No," he says, lifting a brow. "Should I be?"

She swallows, not knowing how to answer that question. "What- um, what exactly do you want from me?" she asks, because she truly doesn't know. It started out so simple, like so many of her flings in the past; a mutual attraction that eventually lead to sex and nothing more. But now Cicero might want more, and that ambiguous more is making things incredibly complicated.

Cicero shrugs, and he's so bloody nonchalant Lumen wonders if he's joking. But his words are too soft and sincere to be anything but the truth when he says, "I want nothing more than what you are willing to give."

Lumen doesn't know what to say, and she knows her words would be uncertain half-truths spoken in a trembling, terrified voice. Which is ridiculous when she thinks about it. She's faced draugr and dragons, and yet this strange, warmth blooming within her chest scares her more than anything. And the cause of such a feeling is staring into her eyes, and staring through her, as he so often does. This insufferable, sweet, madman with an impressive capacity for violence has stirred something inside her. Rousing emotions she thought herself incapable of having, and it's too much. It's too emotional, too fast. It's so much easier when it's just physical.

But rather than running away as she is wont to do, she surges forward, capturing his lips so roughly that she shoves him back against the wagon wheel. Cicero doesn't seem to care at all, and he responds to the kiss with equal ferocity. He grabs her arms, hands squeezing her so tight it's almost painful, but Lumen understands his silent plea of don't run away. And she answers it by sliding her palms along his thighs, feeling lean muscle beneath his trousers as her hands travel from his knees to the hem of his jacket.

"There's an empty tent if you two need it," Babette says, and Lumen reluctantly turns away from Cicero to see the vampire grinning at them, her old eyes sparkling with mirth. "Just try to keep the moaning to a minimum, Nazir is a bit of a prude."

"Sorry, Babette," Lumen says, laughing nervously. "I didn't hear you approach."

"Most people don't." Babette smoothes down her skirt and primly sits on a nearby rock. "So you and Cicero? I can't say I am surprised. Many Listeners and Keepers in the past were involved with each other. Although-" she pauses meaningfully, grinning wide enough to show fangs. "I do wonder how you got involved with Arnbjorn? Oh, don't look at me like that. Something very interesting happened between you two, and I want to know all about it."

"Not to be rude, but I really don't want to talk about it." Lumen closes her eyes, annoyed as a cold flush of disgust chases away the residual heat of Cicero's touch.

"No one ever tells me anything," Babette says, folding her arms and sulking.

"Do not feel bad, un-child. She will not share any details with Cicero either," he says, sounding every bit as petulant as Babette.

"Ugh, you two are insufferable." Lumen stands, dusting grass and dirt from her clothes. "I think I'm going to make use of that empty tent I'm- tired," she says, knowing both Cicero and Babette will see right through her flimsy excuse to escape the conversation, and not caring in the slightest.

"Oh, all right," Babette sighs. "Sleep well."

Lumen makes her way across the small campsite with Cicero following behind her. When she reaches the tent she takes a breath and turns around to face him, prepared to tell him to go away if he followed her in order to pester her about Arnbjorn. But her words falter when she sees that his brows are knit together in concern, and his eyes clouded with worry.

"Cicero knows you don't want to talk about it, and he will not force you to," he says abruptly. "But do me a favor and answer one question, and I will never speak of this again."

"Fine," Lumen snaps, and folds her arms across her chest. "What is it?"

"Did the brute hurt you?"

Lumen is taken aback by the question. If she truly wanted to elaborate, she would tell Cicero that it's not Arnbjorn's actions that haunt her, but her own. Regret is not something Lumen often struggles with. In fact, out of all the terrible things she's done, this is the first time she's ever felt truly guilty. "No," she finally says. "He didn't hurt me."

Cicero is silent as he searches her face for any hint of a lie. After a moment he nods and says, "Good. I was-"

"Worried?" Lumen suggests, grinning at Cicero and hoping to lighten the mood. "Gods forbid you take any time off from your favorite hobby of worrying."

A soft, indignant humph is the only response Cicero gives as he follows her into the tent.

"What do you mean you can't enter Whiterun?" Nazir asks, incredulous. "Did you get banned from the city?"

"No, I did not get banned from the city," Lumen says as their wagon slows to a stop just outside the Whiterun Stables. "I'm a thane."

"You," Nazir says slowly, "are the Thane of Whiterun?"

"What is a thane?" Cicero asks, as confused by Nordic customs and titles as Lumen was when she first arrived in Skyrim.

"It's an honorary title, mainly. Nothing more than a pat on the ass from the Jarl as thanks for killing a dragon and saving the city." Lumen folds her arms, glaring up at the silhouette of Dragonsreach. "Gold would have been preferable to a title and a housecarl. That bastard dragon singed my hair!"

"What in the Void is a housecarl?" Cicero asks, increasingly confused.

"A bodyguard," Lumen answers, then turns back to Nazir. "Anyway, considering the nature of the conversation we'll be having with Motierre, I can't risk being recognized and drawing unnecessary attention to him."

"I'll go." Nazir shrugs, climbing down from the seat of the wagon. "Astrid often had me speak to clients on her behalf. I'm used to it." The Redguard dusts the dirt of the road from his clothes and says, "I just need to know what this Motierre fellow looks like."

"A stuffy Breton," Lumen says blithely, "He'll be dressed in fine clothes and he'll probably have a pinched look on his face."

"Pinched?"

"Yeah, you know, he looks like he's got a Briar Heart shoved up his ass."

"That's- descriptive." Nazir says, shaking his head. "All right, you three behave yourselves while I'm gone. We don't have enough gold to pay off any bounties just yet."

"As if Cicero would ever behave poorly in front of Mother. Cicero is always good and always behaves," he says, patting the coffin, which is wrapped in a leather tarp to protect it from the elements and hide it from view.

"That's pushing it a bit," Lumen murmurs, only to have Cicero ignore her comment in favor of fawning over the Night Mother. She watches Nazir walk up the dirt path toward Whiterun, eventually vanishing from view once he passes the ramparts. Deciding that they will probably be waiting for a while, Lumen climbs down from her seat in the wagon to see to the horses.

"Hey," Babette says, her voice thick with sleep. "Why is Nazir coming back so soon?"

"What?" Lumen turns to see Nazir walking briskly towards them. "Well that was quick."

"They won't let me in to the city. Apparently they've had some trouble with Alik'r warriors, and they think I'm one of them," Nazir says, looking down at his clothes. "I guess I can't blame them."

"Great," Lumen sighs. "I guess that means I have no choice but to go myself."

Babette pushes her cloak from her shoulders, finally perking up now that the sun is setting. "But you said it yourself, we can't risk drawing any attention to Motierre."

"Cicero will go and speak to Motierre!"

The group falls silent, all turning to stare at the grinning jester. "Assuming they let you into the city, you will definitely draw attention to Motierre if you go dressed like that," Nazir says.

"What is wrong with how Cicero is dressed?" He puts his hands on his hips, frowning at Nazir.

"Nothing," Lumen says quickly. "There's nothing wrong with your outfit, Cicero. It's just very eye-catching. If you want to speak to Motierre, then you need to wear a disguise."

Cicero cheers up at the mention of a disguise. "Oh, very well, then. What sort of disguise shall Cicero wear? What role is he to play?"

"I'll go with you," Babette says, looking a bit nervous at the prospect of Cicero going to speak to a client without supervision. "I doubt the guards would turn away a father and his child seeking room and board for the night."

Cicero cackles at that. "Oh, very good! Very good! Cicero likes this idea!" he says, and all seems to be going well until he spares a glance at the clothes Lumen hands him. "This is it? This plain, boring white shirt and ugly trousers? How insulting! How could you expect poor Cicero to wear such dowdy clothes?"

Nazir mutters something under his breath, and Lumen says, "You need to look plain and boring so no one will pay attention to you. That's the idea!"

"If you say so," he sighs, carefully removing his gloves and boots, and then handing them to Lumen. Then he removes his jacket and trousers, not bothering to duck behind the wagon or shield himself from view.

"By Sithis, I did not need to see that," Nazir grumbles, squeezing his eyes shut.

Cicero quickly dresses, somehow managing to keep his hat in place, even when he pulls the tunic over his head. "Well?" he asks. "How do I look? Dull? Utterly mundane?"

"You're almost perfect." Lumen holds her hand out. "Come on, give me the hat."

"No! Cicero must- uh, he must hold on to it, yes? For good luck. It is his lucky hat."

"Cicero, you need to leave it with me." Lumen says slowly. She should've known him parting with the hat would be an issue.

Cicero narrows his eyes at Lumen. "What does Cicero get if he does? Cicero is not going to give his hat away and receive nothing in return!"

"I'm going to give it back to you! I'm not going to keep it!"

"Could we hurry this up, please?" Nazir snaps.

Lumen sighs. "Fine, fine. Cicero, what do you want?"

"New boots."

"What?"

"You heard me! I want new boots!"

"Fine!"

Cicero squeaks. "Really? Sweet, kind, generous Lumen will buy Cicero a shiny, new pair of boots?"

"Oh, for the love of- yes! Just give me your hat!" Lumen growls, her patience finally at an end.

"Okay," he says, pulling his hat off and reluctantly handing it to her. "Cicero trusts you to take care of his hat… And to make good on our deal."

"Yeah, yeah," Lumen waves him off. "Hurry up before I change my mind."

A/N: Just a heads up - updates might be a little slower than usual for the next couple months. I have a lot of responsibilities that are dragging me away from writing. Thank you all for being so patient with me!