4E 200

In the Sanctuary, tensions rose as the argument between tradition and progress continued. It was slowly becoming obvious who felt invigorated by the Night Mother's arrival, and who felt apprehensive. Gabriella made it no secret how she felt, and was often heard (when out of Astrid's earshot) berating the current policies, and encouraging a healthy fear of Sithis and the Night Mother.

Cicero was no different. Whenever he had the chance to speak, the Night Mother snuck her way into his conversation. In the evenings before bed, he spent the majority of his time in her chamber. Where, as he'd explained to Hypatia, he worked tirelessly to preserve her body.

In the main cavern, The Night Mother's sarcophagus seemed to hang over the group, spying from the large, red window above the well. Hypatia passed it in silence, eyeing the stained glass with a distant curiosity. She knew Cicero was up there with the Night Mother, but he had explained so little of his duties. Hypatia imagined him shooing mice away from the coffin; preserving the corpse in the proper oils, and scooping white, writhing maggots from her hollow eye sockets.

She shuddered.

The gossip surrounding the Night Mother grew by the day. Cicero talked so passionately (almost evangelically) about her; while Gabriella and Festus Krex undoubtedly had some form of respect for her. Talk of Cicero's dedication spread across the Sanctuary, and soon so did rumors of Astrid, and her ability to lead.

Cicero was more than pleased.

Astrid quickly caught wind of the gossip, and soon came to believe Cicero planned to overthrow her. She heard him arguing, laughing, and talking with somebody in the Night Mother's chamber. What Astrid did not know was who.

Hypatia slipped into the Sanctuary at nearly four in the morning, brushing away flurries of snow from her black cloak. She was returning from Half-Moon Hill where it had been a quick kill, as was her style. This was how Nazir originally taught her.

The two of them were a bit unlike the other assassins in that they preferred to keep their contracts clean and short. The torturous mindset (which a few of her associates adopted) had never appealed to Hypatia.

Arnbjorn, for example, took delight in retelling stories of brutal dismemberment, often leaving the victim to suffer for hours before the final kill. Babette frequently posed as a frightened child, luring her unsuspecting victims into sick mind-games. Though her torture was mental rather than physical, as Babette recounted the fear in her victim's eyes as she taunted, teased, and frightened them, Hypatia did not find it any less disturbing.

She drowned out these stories with mead, hoping the mental image would be dissolved by morning.

She admired Nazir for his personal "quick and painless" policy. From her first contract (at age fifteen) Hypatia had adopted the same mentality. What mattered most for a contract was how quietly she could break into a house, slit a throat, and run. For that reason, she preferred the light dagger over heavy maces, axes, and swords.

As Hypatia rounded the stairs into the entrance, Astrid was waiting, leaning like a general over the large table map. She looked up, and gestured for Hypatia.

"Ah," she said. "You're back. How was it?"

"The contract went well," Hypatia said hesitantly, her mind was foggy as it often was after a contract and before a drink.

"Excellent, as I have another matter to discuss," she quickly glanced around. "First, tell me- and do be honest, what is your impression of Cicero?"

Hypatia instantly knew this question was due to recent rumors in the Sanctuary. Astrid very rarely spoke to her, though her demeanor was pleasant, something felt off. Hypatia felt it was best to be honest, but cautiously.

"I think he's seriously mad," Hypatia answered carefully. "But, his madness is, truthfully, a bit fascinating to me."

"And the Night Mother?"

"I don't know much about the Night Mother," she said, and knowing very well that Astrid was testing her in that moment, she added, "and I don't care to know anything about her."

Hypatia must have answered to Astrid's satisfaction, because Astrid nodded and placed a hand on her shoulder. "I need you for a special task, Hypatia."

She proceeded to convince Hypatia to hide away in the Night Mother's coffin in order to eavesdrop on the conversation between Cicero and his co-conspirator.

"That seems… disgusting," Hypatia gagged, imagining her body pressed up, confined against the squishy, old corpse.

"Hypatia, dear," Astrid began, her voice as smooth as honey. "Nobody will suspect it. Who in their right mind would hide in the coffin?"

The idea was absolutely repulsing, but ultimately Hypatia agreed. Although she had a certain fondness for Cicero (and hoped to eventually be his friend), she knew her first responsibility was to Astrid and the Sanctuary. It would do no good to upset Astrid and risk expulsion from the association… She didn't care to know what may happen if Astrid was feeling less than merciful.

That evening, Hypatia snuck into the Night Mother's chamber, easily undetected, and picked the lock on the large, somewhat ornamental doors. Expecting an overpowering stench, she instinctively held her breath. However, she was quite surprised to find the Night Mother had no odor; in fact, there was a hint of lavender in the air.

This was the first time she'd looked upon the corpse, with its leathery skin, sunken eyes, and ugly, drooping jaw. There was no time to contemplate the horrors of her visage. Hypatia forced herself up into the coffin, and the heavy doors fell closed behind her.

Darkness.

It must have been a few hours that Hypatia was hidden with the Night Mother. It was impossible to see her ancient features, but Hypatia was nonetheless aware of her stare's searing chill. Eventually, the chamber door creaked open, and a pair of light footsteps approached the coffin.

"Oh, oh, alone at last," Cicero's muffled voice chuckled, beginning a long diatribe of disappointment and madness. She heard Cicero speaking frantically, at times angrily, and then apologetically. It became apparent that Cicero was very much alone. He was not speaking to an accomplice, but rather the Night Mother herself. However, the Night Mother did not speak to him.

Cicero mentioned nothing of overthrowing Astrid, and he certainly did not mention the name of an accomplice.

"Oh, Mother. Have I not been loyal to you? Has dear Cicero not tended to you so sweetly, so gently, and for so long? Oh, but is it enough for you?! To whom will you speak?! When? The Listener can't be far now, Sweet Mother. You will talk when you're ready. Until then, Cicero is there to comfort you, Mother. Preserve you, oil you, and keep you, as is my humble duty."

The conversation was unsettling, and Hypatia wondered how Cicero was able to stomach his job. The idea of oiling, even touching, this corpse repulsed her.

In fact, she was beginning to regret the way she'd shut herself in, crammed face to face with the Night Mother. There wasn't enough room to turn her back unless she opened the doors which guarenteed being caught. Hypatia did her best to avoid touching the corpse, but if she wavered at all in her standing position, the tip of her nose would brush against the Night Mother's leathery face, or her hands would press to feel her ancient body.

Hypatia cringed, praying the moment would end soon. To distract herself, she focused on Cicero's long-rant, deciding to tell Astrid that Cicero was only speaking in vain to his Mother.

Then, the unbelievable happened. Hypatia heard it. The harsh whisper, like a sharp knife in her mind.

"Poor, sweet Cicero," whispered the Night Mother. "He is so loyal, but he will never hear my voice. For he is not the Listener. No, but you. Yes, you are the one. The one who shares my iron tomb, and warms my ancient bones… I give you this task: Journey to Volunruud, and speak with Amaund Motierre. Tell Cicero, the time has come. Tell him the words he has been waiting for all these years, 'Darkness rises when silence dies'."

Hypatia felt her breath leave her body; it was the dizzying sensation of having the ancient woman in her mind for the first time. She pushed the coffin doors open, and spilled out onto the floor at the feet of Cicero. He screamed obscenities, called her a defiler, waved his hands in anger before he drew his knife.

Hypatia looked up at him, sprawled out on the floor, and spoke the words to save her life. He was disbelieving at first, but suddenly gave a triumphant yelp, pulling her up onto her feet and embracing her in a tight hug. Hypatia stood, dumbfounded, and Cicero shrugged his shoulders in an awkward rhythm. It wasn't until many years later, she realized he had been crying.

"Oh, you are the Listener! You are the Listener! Oh, Cicero is overjoyed!" he sang, dancing around her chair in the kitchen. Hypatia nervously laughed, feeling a bit uncomfortable.

The entire Sanctuary was seated among the tables, eyes trained on the pair. Hypatia gave an awkward smile, and Cicero spun in joyous circles around where she sat. Astrid had called the meeting to discuss the latest news. Though everyone had already heard, nobody was sure what it meant for the organization.

"Give me a break," Arnbjorn sneered, seated at a table near the opposite end.

"Do not think this changes much," Astrid said. She was standing near the front so that everyone could see her. All eyes turned from the fool to the leader.

"Yes, Hypatia is the Listener, and the Night Mother may be here to stay. Something has evidently happened here, and we would be fools to ignore it."

Cicero held back an excited cackle. Evidently pleased with current events.

"However," Astrid continued. "This Sanctuary is still under my authority, and will answer to me. If you have any questions, ask now, or see me in private. Until then, Hypatia is simply another member of our organization. Though she may be Listener, this title will not grant her any special privileges or authorities."

Astrid turned to glance at Hypatia, who nodded with understanding. She had no intention to stir the cooking-pot. Though, there was a certain irony in Astrid's words when Cicero fawned over Hypatia like the High Queen.

"Excellent. In the meantime, I've sent Veezara to look into this situation at Volunruud. He should be back soon. There are many contracts to be completed. Keep up your hard work." Astrid turned, and promptly walked toward the exit.

As the others dispersed, Cicero gestured for Hypatia to follow him toward the back bedroom where he'd set up his belongings. Well, it wasn't quite a bedroom, more so a storage room. His bed was small and squeezed between a large barrel and a damaged dresser. Hypatia was very aware of the back corner cave-in. She eyed the ceiling nervously.

"Oh, don't listen to that Astrid," Cicero said, voice lowered, gesturing toward an empty chair. "Being the Listener is the highest honor that a member of the Dark Brotherhood can attain. This means you are Mother's chosen, and Cicero has no doubt she chose you for a reason."

Hypatia took a seat, and watched as Cicero used his ebony dagger to cut a small sliver off of a nearby cheese wheel. He raised his hand in offering. "Cheese?"

"No thank you," Hypatia weakly refused. For some reason, she didn't have an appetite. Perhaps this business with the Night Mother was making her anxious. "Got anything to drink?"

Cicero turned behind him, lifting a case from the floor. "Would the Listener prefer wine or mead?"

"Mead," Hypatia answered with a relieved sigh, reaching to take the bottle. "Tell me, please. What exactly does it mean to be the Night Mother's chosen?"

"Well," Cicero began. "It means our Mother will speak to you, in your mind as she did the other night. It is a tremendous honor."

Cicero threw the triangular cut of cheese into his mouth, and Hypatia sat stunned.

"She'll speak again..." she repeated, more as a statement than a question, but Cicero must have taken it as the latter, because he burst into a fit of giggles.

"Why, yes! Yes, she will. Perhaps, now. Perhaps, later. Oh, I don't know! But, she will speak. And when she does, it is the Listener's responsibility to ensure her will is done. You must do as our Mother commands. For the Night Mother is the bride of Sithis, and her word is law," he leaned forward rather seriously. "Do you understand?"

"I do," said Hypatia, and with that she took a long swig.

Cicero smiled brightly, "Oh, what joy! Cicero cannot tell you how long he has waited for the one. Now, you are here. Oh, Listener. Our Mother is certainly working in fearsome and glorious ways! Things will get better for us, I just know it."

Cicero reached forward, surprising Hypatia by taking her hand in his own. "From here on, we have nothing to worry about."

A warm affection began to swell beneath her chest. Had anyone ever taken her hand like this? She couldn't recall a time.

Deep down, Hypatia thought Cicero's optimism was unrealistic. She never understood what it meant to look forward to the future. Maybe her life had been dirty, awkward and terrifying since she was a child. Yet, with her hand in Cicero's. For the first time in her small life, Hypatia felt hopeful.

Once a background character in the Sanctuary, now thrust into the center- everyone had their eyes on Hypatia. Nazir began offering advice before every contract, and Babette had suggested the two of them start alchemy lessons. While a part of Hypatia was attracted to this new attention (having previously been ignored and frequently dismissed), another part of her was becoming uneasy.

Arnbjorn's hatred had never been so evident. He watched her with poisonous eyes each time she made her way past the forge. He sneered whenever she spoke in the same room as him. He frequently referred to her as 'mutton' and 'lamb', an attempt to intimidate her. A paranoid part of her wondered if he'd been making plans to kill her. She slept with a knife beneath her pillow.

As the weeks carried on, the Night Mother did not speak again, but it didn't stop her siblings from asking multiple times in a day. One evening, as Hypatia trailed down the Falkreath path, through dense trees toward the village, she was stopped halfway by the voice of Gabriella.

"Hypatia," she called, leaning against a tree near the outer road. Hypatia nearly missed her; the elf was blended into the shadows like paint on a canvas. She might've stayed completely undetected if she hadn't announced herself.

"On your way to Falkreath?" she asked, her red eyes bright in the dark.

"Yes," Hyaptia said. "A supply run."

"Do you mind if I join you?"

"Not at all, sister."

Gabriella and Hypatia made their way up the path toward Falkreath. A gentle breeze carried the fresh smell of pine and soil.

"How did your last contract go?" Gabriella asked.

Hypatia answered with a vague description, as was usual when they were outside the Sanctuary. You could never be sure who was listening.

"Oh, it went smoothly, and best of all it paid well."

"Excellent, Hypatia. I had confidence in you: such a bright, young girl," Gabriella said. "Many in the Sanctuary have noticed your aptitude, including myself."

While it was nice to be recognized, Hypatia reminded herself that Gabriella had only taken notice because she was now the Listener. In knowing that, the statement felt stale, more like flattery than admiration.

"How old are you?" Gabriella asked.

"I'm seventeen."

"You are so young, Hypatia. You have so much ahead of you… so much to learn. Not to imply you're incompetent. You are a very capable and dangerous woman. I've come to admire you. Though, your youth is not to be ignored."

Hypatia nodded, she wasn't sure if Gabriella was complimenting her or not.

"I wonder, has our Mother said anything else to you?"

"No," Hyaptia said, it was a question she became used to answering. "Not yet, but maybe soon."

"Well, that's a shame," said Gabriella, who didn't take her eyes off the young Hypatia. "But, you know, she will speak again. When she does, if you're unsure who to tell, you can always tell me."

"I see," she said. "Thank you."

"I believe in your power, Listener. The Night Mother has spoken to you for a reason. This is bigger than any of us could imagine. Certainly bigger than Astrid. Your destiny has already been decided, it was written by Sithis in the Void."

The words reminded Hypatia of Cicero.

"If you ever need anything, Listener. If you need advice on a contract, if you want training, if you want a mentor, if you're planning… a change in leadership." Gabriella's expression went darkly serious. "You will have my support."

The sudden attention that came with being the Listener was a bit overwhelming. Everyone was in her ear, whether they wanted to get on her good side (such as Gabriella) or her bad side (such as Arnbjorn), somebody always had something to say. It was strange, as she was so used to the isolation of being in the background.

It helped that in the following days Cicero had become so supportive. They took walks and he answered her questions, discussing the history of the Brotherhood and his strange love of the Night Mother.

Though Cicero was retired from actively working contracts, he gave Hypatia advice and encouraged her each time she came back.

"Tell Cicero about your contract!" he would beg, smiling ear to ear as Hypatia recalled that night's assassinations. He seemed to delight (in a way the others never did) at how stealthily it was carried out.

"Oh, you snuck through the window. They never think to lock them!"

"Hypatia waited two hours under the bridge! He never saw it coming!"

"Oh, how clever you are!"

"How sneaky, Listener!"

The praise was like candy for Hypatia, a girl who had never before heard one ounce of it in her life. She herself was naive to the intoxicating effects of his words. It was borderline addicting, and Cicero had an endless supply.

In the evenings, the two had taken to having dinner together. On this night, they were seated together in the kitchen, two empty bowls stacked on the tabletop, and a flickering lantern hanging above them.

"It's getting late," Hypatia said. "Astrid wants me to appraise Motierre's amulet tomorrow. I'm going to have to leave early, if I want to meet with her contact in Riften and make it back before sundown."

"Cicero understands. A good night's sleep is an essential part of a morning's job-well done. Cicero admits he doesn't get it as often as he needs."

"Oh, Cicero, you have to go to bed early," Hypatia suggested.

"It's less about that, Listener," Cicero admitted a bit sheepishly. "I'm too often woken by my own anxiety."

Hypatia nodded. She understood all too well what he meant.

"I get nightmares, too," she admitted. Cicero raised a brow. "They aren't as frequent as they used to be, but I still get them occasionally. When I first joined the Brotherhood, I was so often woken by strange, sometimes disturbing nightmares. I saw the face of my victim, anguished, reaching out to me with bloody, mutilated hands. It felt condemning."

Cicero said nothing.

"I don't feel as guilty anymore. Mead helps," she said. "I dream less when I drink."

In a sick way, she was thankful for that numbing of her conscience. It made it easier to do what had to be done.

They paused for a moment, candlelight flickering against each other's features. Cicero only nodded, but he did not add to the conversation.

"Oh, Listener before you go. I almost forgot!" he added. "I have a gift for you," he twisted to reach into a small pouch kept securely at his side, and pulled out a long, silver-chained necklace.

Hypatia was stunned, but Cicero's eyes were bright as he handed her the necklace from across the table. She turned it over in her hand, admiring the soft, multicolored, pastel stone at the center of the chain. She recognized this stone, but as with the majority of her collection, she didn't know it's name.

"Oh, Cicero, thank you. It's beautiful."

"Cicero was told it's an opal."

"An opal," she repeated the word, more than satisfied to add it to her vocabulary. "By Sithis, Cicero, it's gorgeous. How can I thank you?"

"Oh, Listener. Don't you see? This is my way of thanking you!" Cicero leaned forward, resting his hand on hers. "On the day you were chosen as Listener, Cicero felt a hope he had not felt in a long time. A hope that had almost faded. Oh, Listener. Do you know, I prayed to our Mother for a long time? I waited for so long. Oh, so long!" he shuddered. "But those days are over, and the Night Mother has answered! The Listener treats me so kindly, and so sweetly! Cicero is thankful to call you a friend."

It was enough to make Hypatia blush.

"Oh, and that's not all!" He raised a confident finger up into the air, before turning to pull a leather bound book from his satchel. He placed it on the table, grinning from ear to ear.

Hypatia looked down at the cover, which was brown and decorated with a golden, curly font. The letters were simply lovely, but try as she might, Hypatia could not understand their meaning.

"It's a compendium," he offered, but Hypatia had never heard such a word in her life.

"I'm afraid I… I don't know what that is."

Cicero giggled, apparently her naivety was amusing. "Oh, Listener, ha! You are too much… A compendium is a sort of... collection. This book is a collection of information. Cicero recalls the morning we first met. We walked along the Falkreath path, and the Listener spoke of her interest in rocks and other stones. This book is a compendium of stones!"

Hypatia was shocked that Cicero had remembered. It was such a sincere gift that Hypatia felt a rather pleasant flutter in the well of her stomach.

Cicero reached forward, and turned the pages in order to show Hypatia. Whoever had written the compendium was a talented artist and typographer. The letters were so neatly arranged, artful and aesthetically pleasing. In each section, were colorful illustrations of various gems: rubies, amethyst, gold, etc. Hypatia recognized a few of the drawings, but unfortunately the meanings, the names, and any information about the illustrations were lost on her.

"Cicero, this is wonderful. I've never received such a thoughtful gift. You've really touched me, especially this beautiful necklace. But well, unfortunately, I can't read."

Cicero blinked.

"The Listener can't read!?" He sounded downright offended.

"I never learned."

"Well, that's nothing to be ashamed of," Cicero reassured. "Cicero knows many people in Skyrim who never learned. However, the Listener is not most people. Cicero will gladly take this task upon himself."

Hypatia raised her brows. "Cicero, you want to teach me to read?"

"Why, of course! It's the least the Keeper can do! After all, a Sanctuary needs a literate Listener! Ha!"