It was true. Shadowmere was the fastest horse I'd ever had the honor to ride. The trip from the Pine Forest to Dawnstar flew by almost faster than I would have liked. Most of the ride was spent trying to balance Cicero's journals in my lap as I rode. It was all right there. His birth, his contracts, his life, his Keepership. All in the palms of my shaky hands.

I learned that Cicero was born into the Dark Brotherhood. I had figured as much. He couldn't be over thirty and had spent twenty years trying to rebuild the brotherhood in Cheydinhal after the raid. It saddened me to think of a ten-year-old Cicero dressed in an oversized jester's motley, clutching desperately to the corpse of the Night Mother, hiding in her coffin until the sounds of fire and death ceased.

I had learned of the contracts he took before he was forced into the role of Keeper after the death of his mother, the Keeper before him who had died fighting to protect the sanctuary. He was a born assassin, succeeding greatly at it from a very young age. I read of the jester, the last of his contracts before he swore off death. The motley he took from the contract was one of the few things to survive the raid. It reminded him of a less silent time. A time of laughter.

I learned that his mother had pushed him into the coffin and closed it tight. He did not go without a fight. Herself and a few others were able to carry the coffin to a carriage behind the crypt before going back in to fight. He pushed and pushed to fight with his brothers and sisters. He fought to save them.

I learned that he fought to save me, for I too was a child of the Void. He had pulled against his mother's grasp to get to me, only four at the time. He depicted my cries for my parents, whose names I learned were Nibenay and Yorgrim. They had both died pulling me out of harms way. I laid between them, failing to understand why they couldn't hear me. I read of Sanguine, who had scooped me into his adolescent arms and ran as the doors closed Cicero into the Night Mother's tomb. Sanguine, too, had been a member of the Dark Brotherhood. The lies which haunted me at night about Cicero, the ones that Sanguine planted that morning after Vikki's contract, they weren't true.

I learned that when Cicero was finally able to push open the walls to the Night Mothers coffin, it was night and everyone he had ever known and loved had been burned alive in fire of Stendarr. I read of his many attempts to move and rebuild the sanctuary and how many times he had failed. I read of his slow descent into madness as the silence consumed him and the laughter saved him over and over and over. Time and time again.

I learned of his journey to Skyrim. I read of his relief to find me alive and more so yet, to have me be the Listener. I skimmed pages of pages of Cicero's beautiful writing about me. Ramblings of the Night Mother faded in place of paragraphs upon paragraphs of his love for me, and how he would abandon all, even his duties as Keeper, to keep me safe.

I learned of the Dawnstar sanctuary and how it was ancient and forgotten. I read that the Black Door would ask me another question, "What is life's greatest illusion?" to which I would answer, "Innocence, my brother."

My thoughts were racing, even as I approached the Black Door of the Dawnstar sanctuary. I forced them all down. Cicero, my parents, myself. Deep, deep down. A wounded Arnbjorn sat huddled over in a pool of his own blood.

"Should have figured Astrid would send you," he said as he saw he approach. He looked awful, a large gash torn into his side.

"You're hurt," is all I could manage.

"What gave it away?" he laughed with painful sarcasm. "Yeah, got to admit that little jester's good with that butter knife. But don't worry, I gave as good as I got.

"Where's Cicero now?"

"In there! Through the door. Some old Sanctuary, by the looks of it. I would have followed him, but I don't know the phrase."

"I know the phrase. I'll get Cicero," I forced my heavy muscles to lead Shadowmere in his direction, "you go home."

"All right, you convinced me. Doubt I'll be much good to you, anyway. The little fop cut me pretty deep. But I slashed him good. Pretty sure I severed an artery." I winced as Arnbjorn gruesomely described the situation. "Don't know what you're going to find in there...but you can probably just follow the blood. Do me a favor and kill that little jester twice. Just to make sure." He carefully mounted the horse and rode off.

I turned to the Black Door. It must have sensed my attention.

"What is life's greatest illusion?" the thousand voices of the door whispered.

"Innocence, my brother."

"Welcome home." The skull on the door seemed solemn, knowing what lied inside.

"Listener! Is that you?" I was immediately met with Cicero's piercing voice. There really were two different Cicero's. The one who taught me how to use the bow. The one who writes as if he proposing to the emperor. The one speaks in 'I's' and 'you's.' The one who kissed me wholly, passionately, and deeply. The one who protected me from the moment I came into the world. The one who knew me as Innocence. Then there was this Cicero. The one who almost slit my throat when I fell from the Night Mother's coffin. The one who tried to kill Astrid. The one who wounded Veezara and Arjborn. The one who speaks in 'Cicero's' and 'Listener's.' The one who knows me only as the Listener. I needed the first one now. "Oh, I knew you'd come. Send the best to defeat the best. Astrid knew her stupid wolf couldn't slay sly Cicero."

"Cicero, where are you?" I called into the tomb. When I didn't receive an answer, I explored the passageway carefully. An ethereal form apparated before my eyes, bow drawn and ready. These must be the guardians Cicero had written about. He let his arrow fly with just enough time for me to dodge it. I pulled my daggers from my belt and sunk them into the nothingness of his body before he could pull another arrow from the quiver. He disappeared without a trace and I was left to wonder how Cicero had gotten past them in his current state.

"Oh, but this isn't at all what mother would want. You kill the Keeper, or I kill the Listener? Now that's madness," his words were painted with pain, clear as day. You could tell even without looking at him that he would die without help. I had to find him. I mowed through guardians, traps, and even a frost troll. I feared I would never find the poor fool. I finally opened a wooden door that lead to my destination.

"And now we come to the end of our play. The grand finale," Cicero's wounds were gaping and much worse than anything he'd done to Astrid, Veezara, or Arnbjorn. He smiled up at me in an unfamiliar way. Like he had failed to see past the idea that I was going to do anything but put him out of his misery. "You caught me! I surrender!" He laughed, causing more blood to spill from his lips and onto his beloved jester's armor.

"There is only one cure for your madness, Cicero." I kneeled beside him and took his face in my hands. I knew Cicero. The real one. I desperately prayed to Sithis that I could pull him from this dying carcass. "Me." He looked deeply into my eyes, but just for a moment.

"Oh, I like that! Very good, very good! Creative!"

"Cicero, please!" I took his face in my hands again and kissed him through the blood and gore. After a moment he laughed into my mouth, relieved. He forced his tired arms around me and squeezed.

"I missed you." We stayed like this for a moment, tears streaming down our faces and laughter filling the air. I only pulled away when I felt his blood soak through my leather armor.

"Oh, Sithis, Cicero. You look awful." I rummaged through my supplies and pulled out a few potions, uncorking them and forcing them into Cicero's hands.

"I feel awful," he laughed, embarrassed, "about everything really. You know that I didn't want to hurt Veezara or Arnjborn, right? I wouldn't have even killed Astrid." He gulped down a potion before choking. "Astrid! Innocence! You aren't safe there. You have to –" I put a finger to his lips. He had lost a lot of blood. I didn't need him wasting air and energy, too.

"We can talk about that later," I spoke softly. He nodded in understanding. We sat in silence for a few more moments before I broke it.

"I read your journals. I know about my family." He took my hand apologetically.

"They were good people," he paused, "Well, mostly."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Well, Sanguine always spoke of leaving the Dark Brotherhood. He swore off our ways saying that we were all the scum of Tamriel. Now that I know you two made it out alive, I'm sure he was just charmed that the sanctuary was completely destroyed."

"Sanguine?" I asked. Cicero's eyes grew wide, sensing the state of confusion I was in. What did Sanguine have to do with any of this?

"Innocence, Sanguine is your brother."