"Arnbjorn is safe, and for that you have my thanks," Astrid's words held sincerity, but it dissolved as quick as dawn. "But what of the fool? Is Cicero dead?" She asked, as if not truly believing my letter. She was right not to.

"Yes, Cicero is dead." My words, however, lacked all conviction, sadness, or pride. I was to be a blank slate. If I wasn't, I may just have lost it. When had I started depending on the fool so?

I had decided that going back to the sanctuary was the best course of action, no matter how much Cicero had protested. I thought through what he had told me about Astrid several times. She wanted me gone and Sanguine knew that I was here. But he couldn't possibly know where here was. There's no way that Astrid would disclose the location of the Dark Brotherhood so easily. Even so, she wouldn't kill me until I had finished with the Emperor. Even if I was disposable in her eyes, she needed that right now in case things went south. And I had a hunch that they might.

Until then I had a job to finish and a Night Mother to watch over in place of the presumably dead Keeper. That was the only reason he had let me walk out of the Dawnstar Sanctuary without him. If something happened to the Night Mother, Cicero would probably hang himself for letting it happen. Once the Emperor was no longer, I would deal with the Astrid situation, however that may be. I hoped I had some time to figure that out.

"Excellent. Once again, you've proven yourself a born assassin. Tell you what. Why don't you hold onto Shadowmere a while longer? He's a fine steed and hasn't been ridden as nearly as much as he should lately. And now that this Cicero mess has been mopped up, we can get back to the matter at hand, hmm?" Her voice dripped with condescending kindness that I could now clearly see was a façade. How could I have been blind to it for so long?

"Right," I swallowed my wrath. "So, what's my next task?"

"There's just one more target before we strike out at the Emperor." Only one? Anxiety welled in my throat. "Have you by chance heard of the "Gourmet"? Read his cookbook? It's become quite a phenomenon. The Gourmet is scheduled to cook for the Emperor at a special dinner. You'll kill him, steal his Writ of Passage, and assume the role of master chef. Festus has been spearheading this part of the assassination plan. He's close to discovering the identity of the Gourmet. You should report to him."

Arnbjorn caught me on my way through the sanctuary. I prayed to Sithis that he didn't see right through me.

"There you are. Look, I... I just wanted to say thanks for coming to find me back in Dawnstar. Crazy jester finally met his match, am I right?" Although he tried to hide it, I could tell he was grateful. I smiled halfheartedly and slunk away.

"There you are. Took your sweet time dealing with Cicero," Festus scoffed. It saddened me to hear him say that. Festus was one of the few brothers that truly understood the importance of the Night Mother. Now he spoke of the Keeper like he was some pest in the basement all because of a misunderstanding. I wished I could tell him of Astrid and her plans, but now was not the time. Maybe when the Emperor was dead. "Now let's get down to business. Astrid told you about the Gourmet, I hope?"

"That I need to kill him and take on his identity?"

"Quite so. But first you'll need to learn who he is. Assuming, of course, that the Gourmet actually is a 'he.' Could be a woman for all we know."

"So, you don't even know who the Gourmet is? Wonderful." I was having difficulty hiding my frustration at the mage.

"Don't be so petulant! In my investigations, I came upon this." He took a book off the enchanting table and handed it to me. It was worn, but I still knew exactly what it was. "It's a copy of the Gourmet's cookbook. Ah, but not just any copy. It's signed you see! Seems to be a message from the Gourmet to one Anton Virane. I've tracked Virane to the keep in Markarth. It would seem he's the cook."

"And this Anton Virane knows the Gourmet's true identity?"

"I believe so. Therefore, you need to obtain that information from Virane: who the Gourmet is, and where he can be found. Oh, and when you're done with Virane, kill him. Loose ends and all that. Next, you'll have to... Are you still paying attention?" I flipped through the book absent mindedly. It reminded me of cooking for Sanguine and I was frustrated all over again.

"Of course, Festus. Please continue."

"Hmph. As I was saying... You'll need to kill the Gourmet, of course. But there's more, you'll need to get his Writ of Passage, so you can take his place. Oh, and if you can, hide his body. The longer it takes for anyone else to determine his real identity, the better. Now off with you!"

I left almost as soon as I'd come, but not without checking on the Night Mother first. Her coffin was closed. I took a peak inside. She looked as beautifully decayed as ever, although her skin did look the slightest bit dry. I wished that Cicero had the chance to oil her before he left. Sithis knows he wishes that more than I did. Cicero had explained that oiling had kept the body in a proper state for the Night Mother to use as a vessel for communication with the Listener. Without the constant attention from the Keeper, would she still be able to speak with me if need be?

"Assuming this Gourmet is just a cook," Veezara said, entering the Night Mothers room, unprompted. "It will probably be an easy kill. Just be discreet."

"Thanks," was all I could muster. The advice he had given me today and before I had gone after Cicero was both unneeded and unwanted. Veezara was sweet, almost sickeningly so. But he certainly did not know how to take a hint or read a room.

"You did the right thing, you know," he said, kneeling and putting his hands on my shoulders. The rage of the Keeper flowed through me. How dare he stand so close to me? How dare he stand so close to the Night Mother? "He deserved to die."

I stood and walked quickly from the sanctuary, catching my tears on the leather of my gauntlets on the way out.

…

"And then he touched my shoulders and told me that you deserved to die," after promising myself that I wouldn't speak a word to Cicero, I spilled as soon as I saw his beaming face. I had told Astrid that I would be leaving for another unknown bout of time to learn about the Gourmet incase the Virane plan had failed. My true plan was to stay with Cicero. I didn't trust that he could be alone without the Night Mother quite yet. That or I was already missing him. Completely immersed in her plans, and probably glad to have me out of her way, she waved her hand in acceptance and dismissed me.

Cicero and I hadn't seen each other in a few days, but each day felt like a month. He bounded at me as soon as the black door welcomed me home and planted several kisses across my lips and face. They blossomed into a smile. He sat on the end of the bed, rubbing one of my bootless feet as I rambled. I wasn't entirely sure where the bed had come from. The sanctuary was looking a lot better since I had seen it last. Cicero had organized furniture, dusted, and swept. Always looking for something to Keep.

The entire time I spoke, he remained composed. Through Astrid, Arnbjorn, Festus, and Veezara's words he remained silent, not an ounce of anger seeping on to his face. Not even when I spoke of how close Veezara had gotten to the Night Mother. He was just happy to have me home.

"So, who's your next target?" he asked, distracting me from my anger. I was surprised at this side of Cicero. He was so calm and collected. Maybe I was the one who needed constant attention.

"Anton Virane. He's the Gourmet's cook. I'm suppose to find out his boss's identity and then kill him."

"So, you'll have to talk to this man?" Cicero asked with wide eyes. "Get information from him?"

"Yes," I paused. "Does that bother you?"

"No," he said with cocky smile. "I was just wondering how you were going to get him to spill the beans, that's all."

"I hadn't thought that far ahead. Threats, I guess." I wicked smile crawled across Cicero's face.

"You know what really butters a cook's biscuit?"

"Please don't say cooking because I highly doubt that I could make anything delicious enough to cause a trained cook to turn against a life-long friend." He shook his head in amusement, knowing full well that I had no idea where this was going. He stood and strode to the opposite side of the room, unbuttoning a button of the tunic he was wearing with each step. Since he had arrived in Dawnstar, he had discarded his jester's motley as it was practically destroyed from Arnbjorn's claws. I had promised to try sewing it back up when I had the time but had bought him some clothes from the city as a temporary replacement. I tried to find clothing that matched what he had worn the night he almost took me. White tunics and black tights. Breathtaking.

"Seduction." He said, his voice dropping about an octave. It sent vibrations strait to my core. If I hadn't been focusing all my energy on my jaw to keep it from hitting the floor, I may have just laughed.

"How am I supposed to seduce him?"

"By using your innocent charm, so to speak." His voice raised again to slightly above its normal pitch lined with feminine prowess. "You're Anton Virane, right? I've heard of your cuisine." Cicero approached me, bending it a way that showed off his toned chest. I could only imagine what that would do if he were a woman. His legs were opened just slightly, showing off his assets but leaving room for the imagination. "I've heard it's the best in all of Tamriel." By now Cicero's knees were very near mine, bumping them, encouraging them to spread for him. His hands were planted on the wall behind me, making his face only a few inches from mine. He leaned in and brushed his lips with mine, sending shudders down my spine. Before too much pressure could be applied, he moved past my cheek and to my ear. "It sounds like you may have a secret identity, Mr. Virane. Or should I say Mr. Gourmet." His words sent hot, heavy breaths down my neck. I bit my lip to keep from moaning. One hand slipped from the wall, down my body, and rested on my leg, making sure to just barely graze my breast and hip along the way. He applied just a bit of pressure and my knees parted like the wings of a dragon in flight. He had me, fully and completely, at his mercy. "So, kind of like that." He pulled away abruptly, but not before planting a chaste kiss on my needy lips. It was a few moments before I could speak properly again. Cicero seemed proud of that.

"Do you really think that will work?" I half panted.

"It could," Cicero thought, scratching his stubble dotted chin. "But you may want to practice a few times. On another note, I'm not busy right now." He smiled mischievously. "Not busy at all."