Guide:

Dwemeris

Thoughts

"Speech"

"Dovahzul"

Warnings/Disclaimer: see chapter 4

Chapter Warning(s): Fragmented and intentionally a little confusing and all over the place. Experimental writing style.

A/N: IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT: Next few chapters (2 or 3) will be in flashback and journal format! I'll be covering several months fast that way, sticking to the interesting bits… and foreshadowing some things you may pick up on later.

I also have good and bad news.

Good news: After a few months of not really being able to get back into Skyrim due to having lost literally every save I ever made (some of you might remember that) I downloaded some new mods and have been able to regain enthusiasm for the game!

Bad news: I have been playing so much that I haven't been writing as much. This has set my schedule back more than expected, so updates WILL become slower/less regular.

Last time…My thoughts are a more dangerous place to be than this shitty, ice-cold, lethal, biting snowstorm could ever dream to be.

Chapter 58 – Entry Number So-And-So

Life passes me by fast, as if I am captured in a bubble within which time stands still.

It passes by too fast.

An entire week flies by in which I mostly sulk and murder. I take two Dark Brotherhood contracts and not one, but several bounties, running myself into the ground without as much as considering the risks or my exhausted condition.

After a near-miss with a surprise encounter with an apprentice Necromancer – an opponent I normally end within moments – I decide to take a step back and re-evaluate my own behaviour.

The brief moment of clarity allows me to regain a semblance of rational thought. I turn back to Whiterun from the road I'd walked on for several hours, leaving the bounty I'd been headed towards for another time. Taking a page out of Ondolemar's book, I decide to buy a blank notebook.

Keep track of my activities in order to regain some sense of what I'm doing.

By keeping what some of the more irritating Nords would call a 'diary', or journal, as I prefer it. Written in Dwemeris, of course. I am not about to take undue risk, especially with the type of… 'adventures' I get myself into on a daily basis.

That seems like it was ages ago. I still remember Lydia's face when she tried to read over my shoulder. Priceless.

I flip the pages absently, recalling some of the more memorable events of the past months that had me end up sitting at the Bee 'n Barb in Riften, waiting for Brynjolf to show up in order to discuss the latest news of Skyrim's underworld. My eyes come to rest on one of the more interesting entries.

Ah, now there is a day that did not go as I anticipated. The one that got the ball rolling and unleashed hell upon the organised crime all over Tamriel. Not that I quite regret causing it.

~ 21st of Frostfall E201. Falkreath, Sanctuary. ~

Today, Cicero proved once and for all that he's one of Sheogorath's. A madman, that is. He attacked Veezara whilst I was speaking with Nazir, coincidentally about the madman's odd and tense behaviour as of late. I sense that Nazir is rather smug about having been proven right about his opinions on the jester from the other side of the room - he is staring at me over the brim of his cup.

I feel I should explain what happened in more detail:

Nazir took me aside after training to talk about Cicero and the Night Mother. He is an excellent, if harsh trainer and I feel like my One-Handed skills with axes and swords have increased greatly. He has a morbid but dry sense of humour and sharp wit – I feel we will get along well in the future. His training is also expensive as all Oblivion, and he won't be giving discounts any time soon. The asshole.

But I digress.

Apparently, the jester has been talking to the Night Mother's coffin as if holding a conversation. However, the Night Mother does not reply to him as he is not the Listener.

The stranger thing, in my opinion, is that Astrid has gotten the absolutely insane idea that Cicero is planning to betray her and the rest of the family – and that he talks to the 'traitor' in the Night Mother's chamber since it's not very frequented. Babette, Nazir and I all agree that it's a stupid idea and that the paranoia is getting to her head.

The only thing that DID happen was that Cicero lost whatever grip on sanity he had, attacked a Brother, and ran off for the Dawnstar Sanctuary.

Arnbjorn went werewolf on us and gave chase, but now Astrid is keeping the rest of us in the Sanctuary for the next few days until we get news of Cicero's death. She expects it by the end of the week. Until then, I'm stuck here. It will probably be a good opportunity to get to know my family better.

In other news, I have been hearing whispers from the direction of the Night Mother's chamber again. Tomorrow, I will go there to see if it makes any sort of sense that I only seem to hear voices in that place, specifically. I hope Nazir was not right about whatever he thought it was when I mentioned it.

His head is inflated enough as it is with the whole Cicero-situation.

Aye. That was the start of it all. Cicero's attack, Veezara's injuries and my endless curiosity rearing its head.

I flip the page to the end of that week.

~23rd of Frostfall E201. Falkreath, Sanctuary. ~

The Night Mother Spoke to me.

The Night Mother Spoke to me.

The Night Mother Spoke to ME!

Why? Why have I been chosen to be the representative of death and the Dread Father? I want nothing to do with it! After Marcurio – after Blackreach I have never been less hesitant in killing, but to be Listener is to have a far more intimate connection to the Void!

"Darkness Rises When Silence Dies." The Words are engraved in my brain. And Cicero is the only one who can help me. How ironic, as he is gone.

I'm practically climbing the walls – even Veezara has picked up on my anxiousness, and he's severely ill with fever from whichever poison Cicero coats his daggers with. Babette is the only reason he will live. On another note, I will be taking his assignment until he's healed: we are killing the Emperor, apparently.

Empires will always rise and fall. I cannot say I have any particular sense of affection for this one.

Thank the gods that Nazir has taken pity on me. He has given me a contract to kill "Hern", a vampire here in Falkreath posing as human. It's close enough to the Sanctuary for Astrid to give me permission to leave. She is acting… Peculiar. Paranoid and shifty. It makes me uneasy to see her act like that among family.

Either way, both she and Nazir warned me to be cautious against vampires. If only they knew of Morthal.

I had been so panicked. Like a troubled child. I am glad that mother has since seen to it that I've been set straight. I will never in this life doubt her judgement again. Quickly, I glance up and around, only to see that Brynjolf hasn't arrived yet. There must be Guild business holding him up.

I order another bottle of wine before skipping ahead to my meeting with Cicero.

~ 1st of Sun's Dusk E201. Falkreath, Sanctuary. ~

I made it to Dawnstar Sanctuary today.

I close my eyes and let myself remember.

… … …

"You caught me! I… Surrender, ha, ha…ha." The jester spits a glob of blood onto the already stained floor of the torture room as I stare down at him, one axe drawn and dangling loosely from my fingertips.

Cicero curls up tighter, attempting to keep his injuries from reopening too much. It's a miracle he hasn't died already, with the amount of blood he has lost. He shifts, miserably, and clearly about to lose consciousness. He would probably not have been awake at all if one of the damn spectral guards of this place hadn't made me crash into a wall.

"…How are you not dead from all that?" I blurt out incredulously.

No reply, just a ragged cough. I curse under my breath and approach him carefully. Time to play the game as I hope he can handle playing it.

The man has acted like a wild dog before. Perhaps if he is treated that way – like an injured animal, I can approach without invoking his rage.

I just have to tell him what he wants to hear.

I resolutely ignore the fearful pounding of my heart as I approach.

"Cicero, dear Cicero, come, let me look at those wounds of yours." I croon, as if calming a small child or injured, feral animal. I sheathe my axe and pull out a healing potion instead, keeping both arms in full view for the dilated pupils of the imperial assassin's eyes.

They go wide at the sight of the modest red bottle.

I kneel down next to him, muttering soothingly under my breath all the way.

"Why- Cicero does not understand? You are hers. Not the Night Mothers, not sweet, sweet mother's, no. No. You are with the pretender. With Astrid, falsities and Lies, Lies, Lies!" He cries out, trying to attack me with the knife held in a white-knuckled, bloodied grip.

He's slow and lethargic, however, and I easily push the offending arm aside.

"Quiet, Keeper mine. Drink this. Let me help you…"

Surprisingly, the jester concedes, letting me place the phial against his lips. He downs it greedily.

"Poisons, yes, yes! You would poison sweet Cicero! It matters not – Sithis will judge us all." He mutters near-incomprehensibly, his eyes rapidly flickering around the room as if taking in the mossy stone, the shackles and the skeletons for the first time.

After a few seconds, he stills.

"…It's not poison..?"

"No, Cicero." I reply, still soft, still gentle, cradling the madman's head like a mother or older sibling would to soothe a baby's cries. "I would make for a sorry excise of a Listener if I let mother's Keeper die."

Dark, too dark eyes turn to me and sharpen through the agony he must surely still be in.

"Listener..? The Listener knows the Words… yes, yes, the words in the Keeper's books, the words Cicero has so longed to hear..? But it's lies, all lies, and Astrid, the fake-star set you up to this!"

They're engraved on the inside of my skull, before my retina, across my soul. How could I not know those damning words?

Cicero is working himself up into an angry rant, helped along by the Healing Potion, and I vaguely wonder if he's always been this easy to read before.

"And she will come and ruin it! Ruin it all like she ruined the sanctity of the family, ruined the minds of the family, ruined -"

My voice cuts through the muttering like a dagger cuts through the thin skin of a rabbit, sending its deepest guts spilling out into the light of day.

"Darkness Rises when Silence Dies."

He stills. Makes a small sound, a whimper of disbelief.

Then he reaches up quickly, but awkwardly, and draws me into a hug like a chokehold, so tightly do his bony arms wrap around my neck like the pincers of a Mudcrab fastening themselves into prey.

"My Listener. Mother heard Cicero." And he breaks down sobbing when I merely hand him a second Healing Potion, running my fingers through his hair, so red that you can't see the difference between the greasy strands and the blood still entangled in it.

He shows no sign of letting go anytime soon.

"It will be okay. You just rest. Rest, dear Cicero." He only clutches me harder.

He really does feel like a little brother, I wonder in reluctant awe, as I hold him back just as tightly. Perhaps the Night Mother helped me to see him in such a way?

… … …

The rumbling of the Bee 'n Barb shifts back into focus as I fight down the small grin. "Dear Cicero", indeed. It has become more of an endearment than a way to calm him down, now. And I am his "Dear Listener" in return.

I quickly flip through some more pages of my journal, ignoring the slowly gathering crowd as dinnertime approaches. A series of shorter journal entries follow the meeting with Cicero. Most of my days were spend travelling.

And after the meeting, I'll go right back to that wandering existence.

~ 3rd of Sun's Dusk E201. The Pale, Nightgate Inn. ~

I killed the Gourmet. Thalmor have attacked me for the second time in this week alone. It is starting to become concerning – I am in Stormcloak territory, after all.

… … …

~ 16th of Sun's Dusk E201. High Hrothgar. ~

Meditated and debated with Paarthurnax. I wonder where my soul goes after death if I promise it to multiple deities? The high priest in Solitude whom Elisif pointed me to could not help either.

Will I even see Marcurio after I die?

If not, what is the use of dying? Perhaps Necromancers are not so wrong in searching for a way to live forever. But not matter if I do figure out the secret to immortality - I will spend eternity being lonely regardless if he is not there.

… … …

~ 17th of Sun's Dusk E201. The Rift, Bthalft. ~

Bthalft is a dead end.

I have to find Kagrenzel but damnit, where do I look?

… … …

~ 21st of Sun's Dusk E201. Falkreath, Sanctuary. ~

Back in Falkreath as of today. Veezara has the Rite of Passage for his next stunt. I hope he is recovered enough to escape the Emperor's guards after administering the poison.

I am to go to Devlin in Riften's Thieves Guild whilst he is out to end an Empire. I'm almost jealous.

… … …

~ 26th of Sun's Dusk E201. Riften, Thieves Guild. ~

I am no longer jealous of Veezara. My simple errand has been upgraded. Etienne caught me as I was about to leave and took me to the Cistern to meet with Brynjolf and a zealous Dunmer woman called 'Karliah'. As I helped Etienne before and he knows of my skill, he has asked my help in infiltrating Mercer's house with him. Mercer has apparently betrayed the Guild.

Brynjolf did not much like involving me in "Guild Business", but Etienne is not their newest rising prodigy for nothing. I did tell him I could not help without Astrid's approval.

Of course, Astrid somehow already found out and send a letter of approval ahead.

As such, I will join Etienne as backup. Thieving prodigy he may be, his fighting skill leaves much to be desired. I am glad I am not officially part of the Thieves Guild. At least in the Dark Brotherhood, we do not betray the ones we call 'family'.

…Sithis, I had been so painfully naïve and unaware. Then again, we all were. Slowly, almost pained, I turn to the relevant page:

~ 30th of Sun's Dusk E201. Falkreath, Hunter's Rest. ~

Veezara. Gabriella. Arnbjorn. Festus.

Astrid… Why did you do this to us?

I briefly close my eyes against the influx of tears threatening to spill. I had to remind myself of who I still had: Nazir, who survived and dragged the Night Mother's coffin out of the rubble with me. Babette, who'd been gathering alchemy ingredients and came running when the explosions started. Cicero, hiding up in Dawnstar, waiting for us to come 'home'.

And then there was that "vote"…

… … …

~ 4th of Evening Star E201. The Pale, Dawnstar Sanctuary. ~

"We need a leader." Dawnguard Sanctuary is colder than Falkreath, but the fires are lit and the heavy stone and earth shut out most of the ice and snow from outside, as long as we stick to the inner rooms.

I lounge on one of the only two available chairs, leaning back against the protesting wood. Nazir has taken the other chair, and Babette has dragged over an old supply chest. Cicero is perched on the edge of the table, his feet planted firmly on my lap as my own boots rest on the wood next to his hip.

"Why? You want to have the honours?" I question dryly, watching the man drag a hand down his beard as Cicero snickers.

"Nah, I'm horrible at ordering people around."

"Your training methods say otherwise." Babette quips without missing a beat, sending another bout of chuckles throughout our tiny little family.

"I was thinking." The Redguard continues slowly. "It's actually fairly obvious. I'm not suited to leadership, and Babette, dear girl, you'd have us all poisoned in a week."

Said vampire un-child shrugs without regret or shame. "Well, Cicero has to watch the Night Mother, so that leaves only one option."

I'm already starting to shake my head when Cicero cackles loudly. "Yes, yes! Cicero agrees who it should be!"

Nazir smirks at me. "Listen, Fjaldi, just take the damn position – you've earned it. You're the reason at least two of the people in this room are still alive. I'll keep handling the day to day stuff for you, since your other responsibilities eat up a lot of time. What matters is if when we want recruits, we'll need something to convince them joining is a good idea: We have a Keeper. I won't say no to being Speaker. But what we need is to find ourselves a Listener."

My chair falls over, sending me sprawling onto the ground as Cicero bursts out in laughter and starts to do his little dancing jig from where he's sitting, making the table groan in protest.

"Ah! But we do, we do, we do! Mother has made her pick! Mother is very picky but she is never wrong, oh no! She never is! Not when picking a Listener, my Listener, sweet, dear Listener! Aren't I right?" He bursts into high-pitched laughter.

Nazir merely gives me a Look and I rub the back of my neck sheepishly.

"Well. About that. I'm. Sort of. You were right, Nazir. As usual. The Night Mother said… I'm the Listener. So. Yeah. We don't need to find one."

A pause.

"And we have not yet failed everything. The Night Mother Spoke to me when we first arrived here: The contract to kill the Emperor is still on."

Shark-like grins form on the faces of the assassins around the table, including my own when I notice that the fires in their eyes have rekindled.

"There is hope?" Nazir asks.

"There is hope." I confirm solemnly, and for the first time since the truth about Astrid came to light, he laughs.