A/N: Warning, graphic violence and a very long chapter. :D
TRUTHS UNRAVELING
The Listener
"Look to them and tell them what you did. I want us all to be on the same page here." We were back in that small room that looked a little better than anything in Riften, I'm still not sure if this is the same Thieves Guild or if it's an entirely different one and no one was willing to set the record straight for me.
The man, who felt a little too much like Mercer for comfort, leaned over his desk. His brown eyes fogged up a bit behind his glasses, but I could see they were intensely staring at the Dunmer woman.
The Night Mother's former self just stood there. With her hood up and a look of defiance on her face. She was reluctant to tell the truth, especially with all the other members crowding in the room. Even though the four of us: Shadow, Night Mother, Cicero, and me were invisible to the naked eye, it still felt a little cramped.
"I killed them." The woman states. "I killed them then I took their things. It was easy. Far easier than having to sneak around like a rat to swipe what we can. They know after the fact it was us anyways, who else would steal into the night to take any and everything from them?"
The man damn near blows smoke out his nose. He's that pissed off. I can see his muscles straining under his tight armor. "But now they know we killed them. You think this is good for business?" He asks sharply.
She shrugs, "Maybe. Maybe not." She glances around the room at everyone to make sure they're noticing, "I was thinking…this could be something to specialize in. Just like pickpocketing and fencing. We could use this skill."
I see a select few people nod with her. They know what's up. The guy, however, hasn't lost that murderous gaze. "We are not the Morag Tong. We are thieves, not assassins. You know how bad this would be for business? If they find out it's us, they'll set up defenses. Kill us as well. They won't go without a fight."
I see that slow smile spread across the Dunmer's face. "Then, we make sure we are the best at it. I can kill without anyone noticing. If Tera there wasn't creeping around the corner and dropping things like an idiot, I would have gotten away with it. And we would not be having this conversation right now."
I see the Imperial girl behind her stiffen. The man merely rubs his temples. "I would entertain the idea, but it still doesn't answer our problems. It's hard enough as it is to break into certain houses. We have less people recruiting with us. Business isn't so good right now."
"The perfect time to implement something such as this, then." She pushes.
The man watches her. "Fine. Try it. Your next job at the manor, try it and tell me how it went. No, on second thought, I'm sending people with you. I want them to see how this works. Then we can talk." He gives a brief, fake smile.
She doesn't do anything, just turns on her heel leaving four people to follow her out.
"He was never the easiest to break." The Night Mother says softly behind me. She has her hand on my shoulder. Cicero's hand is in my own, clasped on tightly. I have to keep shoving down that terror whenever I feel them so closely, but I can't.
The Shadow rises, his snake-like form moves so three of his right arms motion to the door. He is showing us out.
Her hand tightens on my shoulder. "Let us go, we are certainly about to witness the next beautiful part of this journey." I'd say she seems bored but there's some sort of tension in her voice. Maybe like Hermaeus Mora said, this would be hard for her to re-live again.
I just wonder when we meet Sithis. All I really need is for him to convince her what she's doing in Tamriel is wrong. If he wants her safe, then he needs to get her away from there. Or else who knows who would come against her.
In due time. Follow me. The Shadow speaks into my mind.
Looks like I'm the first one to go through that door. I reluctantly trudge forwards, Cicero a little behind me but his hand is still in mine. The Night Mother is always pushing behind me. Although, I sometimes feel like she's using me as a human shield.
The light pierces intensely. I squeeze my eyes shut at the intrusion but when I open them again, I have to bite my tongue. We are in another dingy looking manor. All the paintings and other treasures are torn up or shattered on the ground. In the center, on one of the grand tables, the Dark Elf known as the Night Mother is choking out one of the inhabitants. Some sort of well-fed Imperial noble. She has a segment of the curtain wrapped around his thick neck. She puts her foot on his meaty back to shove him into it further.
The only sounds are the gurgling and squawking from the guy. His eyes bulge and his Nordic skin takes on a sickly tint. I avert my eyes to look at anything but. "Listener? Does this offend you?" Cicero looks up into my eyes when I catch his.
"A bit, yeah, I'm used to a clean kill with the Ebony Blade."
The Night Mother squeezes my shoulder, "That was not an option. I searched for that very weapon for years. I had yet to find it until you came along."
The guy yelps again as the noose is pulled tighter. The sound of the struggle is terrible. It's taking so long. Too long. "Is this deliberate?" I have to ask.
"I was clumsy back then. I wanted to make a show of things. A blade would no doubt have been cleaner but…" I can feel her shrug.
Finally, the guy falls dead at her feet. Face almost turning completely blue. She's panting and sweating from exertion. She turns to the shadows surrounding the room. "See how easy that was?"
The other members of the Thieves Guild look absolutely mortified. I guess I am too. Poor fellows, they have to go all the way back to tell Mercer 2.0 what just went down.
The scene changes. The floor moves beneath us, brining us back to that room with the dying fireplace. The man has his hands steepled before him, a look of intensity on his face as he hears one of the members relay all that went down. He sighs. "I know what I have to do. Bring her in."
The doors open on the far end of the room, and I watch as the Dark Elf woman walks slowly past us to stand before this guys' desk. "Yes?"
"I heard everything." He starts. He leans back in his comfy chair, completely relaxed for the verbal flogging about to take place. "It wasn't pretty, not pretty at all."
He waits a beat. She does as well.
"I'm not going to allow this. The rules are, not to kill your target, and you've broken more than enough of those rules. I won't let it happen further. I'm also going to have to exact punishment, but not in the form you would expect. Our horses need more cleaning. You get to clean the stables out for the next two weeks. If I hear of anyone, especially you, killing again, you're gone from this organization. Understand?" He raises his brows. I marvel at his calmness. Oh, I can see how much he wants to tear into her based on how tense his body is. But he lets it be.
She doesn't say anything. Just stands straight as a board. "I understand." She finally settles with, before leaving. The man calls after her, for what, I have no idea. But she doesn't look back. I see a small smirk playing on her face as she exits.
The oak door slams shut. The man lets his head fall into his hands, relieved. "This was his fatal mistake." The Night Mother says behind me. She lets go of my shoulder and lazily walks over to him to peer into his face. He rubs his eyes before re-opening his book. Although, the way the light flickers and dances on his face, he won't have much to read by soon. "He seemed…distressed. I wonder if he knew this was coming?" The Night Mother ponders.
"What was?" I ask, even though I know what she's alluding to.
"You'll see." She slowly brushes her hands on her robe, as if they too were dirtied with blood.
"Listener." Cicero whispers in the shadows. The fire was just dying, without more wood it will be extinguished soon. "Listener, Cicero has a question. Sibling to sibling."
"What?" I ask. The fire is finally giving out. It begins to flicker, showing his face briefly in the dim lighting. I see that terrifying smile again. It's been too long without it.
"Did you mean to ambush Mother? Is that what this is about? Are we to kill her?"
The silence is tense. I feel Mother eyeing me even in the dying light. I just keep my eyes on Cicero. He watches me like he caught me red-handed. A kid with their hand stuck in the cookie jar. "No. You know what this is about."
"Pray tell, Listener. Tell me again. I don't think I understood fully the first time."
The light is almost out so I can barely see the red of his cap. I notice, however, the gleam of one of those sharp daggers twirling in his gloved hands. I back up.
"Nothing. We were to bring the Night Mother here, then we convince her."
"Convince me of what?" She's right at my back. If she wanted to, she could pull the Blade from its sheathe, and I would be virtually defenseless. I leap so I'm further away from them and pull the Ebony Blade for myself.
"Listener? Why so antsy? We don't mean to intimidate you." Cicero purrs. The fire is almost out. I can see in the dark but in the pitch black it will be much harder to navigate. I push my way so I'm back by the door, glancing around for the Shadow. He is nowhere in sight.
"Well, you are scaring me. How about you put those knives away?" I snap at him.
His grin is wild. "Oh, Listener, I know you like to talk dirty about poor, sweet, Cicero but deep down the only fool around here was you."
That's corny as hell. So much so that I'm still puzzling over it and nearly miss the glittering knife coming my way. I duck just in time, however. Then something else slams into me. I grunt with the impact and open my eyes again. The embers are gone. Now we only have the darkness. I hear more sounds in it. The padding of slow feet, a male yelling in the background. I can't really focus on it because something kicks me in the face. Hard.
I rear my head back, hitting the cobblestone as they attack me. One hit, then another. I try to pull the Ebony Blade up, but someone had the good sense to get their foot on it. Something gets me in the face again. Now my eyes are watering like crazy. I feel a soft hand moving down my neck right to where my heart is beating out of my chest.
"I should have done this sooner." She whispers right next to me. "You were my favorite for a brief moment. How sad it is that you were the one to betray me so badly. I knew it was only a matter of time."
I prepare for the dagger to plunge its way home. This would be my last moments: in a dark room surrounded by my enemies and with a memory playing of that very woman killing the man who wronged her.
Instead of that dagger piercing me in the most vulnerable of spots, I feel claws and large hands dig around my arms and legs. They pull me back into the wall. The cobblestone is weak, the outer shell is hard to get through but once I am, it's like falling through water.
The Void opens up to pull me in and away from her. I let it take me. Sink in it. For once, I'm relieved for the nothingness.
You weren't expecting her to do that? He asks me.
No. I respond.
I feel his laugher, his strength. Sithis surrounds me, like a cold cocoon. I expect more berating, instead I'm spit back out into that forest floor.
Shit. Here again. My heart goes back into overdrive, expecting the Children to show up. Instead, more hands surround me, pick me up and move me out of the forest. It's like I'm floating while this thing holds me up like a puppet on a string.
I land in a vast field of summer grass. Teeming with bright green and the sound of insects chirping away. The night at least holds some light. The stars and moons shine above, illuminating the area. If I look close enough I can even see the faded shape of Hermaeus Mora's eye up above. Great help he's been so far. My thoughts are scattered when the soft breeze rushes through these plains, bringing in fresh air and the scent of living things.
You understand now? The Shadow rises before me.
I jolt. I wasn't expecting him although I should have. Should have known he'd be here if he was only invisible to the naked eye. The darkness covered him well after all…
"Oh." I look up to his face, nonexistent eyes, and teeth as sharp as my Blade, "You're Sithis."
He gives a low bow before staring me down again. It took you a long time to notice. My Blood Flower knew from the start.
I shudder with the thought of her. "Where are they now?"
Tangled in my web. They will be spit out soon enough. We have more to see.
He holds out his large hand. I don't take it just yet. "Why don't you just get it over with? Just tell her she needs to get the hell out of Tamriel. I don't care what she does as long as she's not taking everyone to an early grave all at once."
The wind rustles the grass again, blowing my hair around and almost out of my tightly secured braids. You need to understand how much this means to her.
I stand up before he can say anymore. "Really? I thought killing her own children would be enough. I thought that was it. That's all I had to see. Let me guess, now she creates the Dark Brotherhood?"
The Shadow studies me curiously. I guess I'll call him Sithis now. Come with me. You are very blunt but there is a time for nuances. That is now.
I don't have much choice. I could just lay here forever but one of those monsters would find me eventually. I motion to him to lead the way. He starts the long trek across the fields, and I follow. Letting the scent through the soft breeze keep me stable. It smells like home in the summertime. We make it out of this, and I'm promised a thousand lifetimes with such a scent and sight. Sithis just turns his head back to me and laughs.
I expect some weird lecture, but he just lets me be. We walk for miles before we find anything worthwhile. Sithis wasn't kidding when he said I needed to see this.
The room was bare, like they just stumbled upon it. Which I guess they did. It's some deserted bandit hide out. Not very pretty but torches light up the room. In the center I see the Night Mother in her Dark Elf form, commanding the small group she's gathered. She's got some sort of star pattern drawn in blood on the floor. I watch her scan the crowd. She has a look of joy to her, a rarity. But I know she's keeping her eyes out for those who might deceive her.
"What's this about?" I ask Sithis.
His dark form towers over me, but he keeps his face turned to his wife as she prattles on about the integrity of death. This is after the Thieves Guild. You didn't see it since you were incapacitated, but she killed their former leader, Wulfel. After his death she decided to start her own assassin's organization. Thus, the Dark Brotherhood was born.
Peachy. Not everyday you get to watch the murderous organization from your worst nightmares form before your eyes. "When will Cicero and her come back?"
They will eventually, do not fret.
We watch her go over this speech for a while, then the scenes speed up. Over the years. I watch as the tower is brought back to some semblance of normalcy. The room is now adorned in black and red banners. Maybe a nice desk or two placed in it. More rooms are added. Initiates come and go. At first, sporting basic bandit armor before eventually trading it out for that black and red we all know and love.
I watch her change too. Instead of a woman down on her luck and screaming her truth out into oblivion, she was now respected. A leader. She punished as quickly as she rewarded, although the latter was sparser than the former.
Eventually, we came to that day. It must have been decades that past. Nearly a century if I was counting correctly. I can't remember how long Dark Elves tend to live, but the Night Mother was on her last legs. She had taken some bad wounds in her assassin days, and they were starting to catch up to her.
She laid in a silk covered bed. Her skin was wrinkled with age, her hair turned bright white. It looks like she took a fatal blow to the stomach a few days ago and was about to succumb to it. A man and woman in the Dark Brotherhood were towering over her. "You wish to be buried?"
"No. Keep me here. In a…a…anyway you can." She breathes out. Even so close to death she still had a fire that raged on. I could see it.
They nodded. Days passed. She had some that were good, some that were bad, it was even hard to get in a strangled breath on those days. I sat with Sithis, spent and tired near the wall. He rose when the time came, waking me up from my dozing.
Her final breath had been given. Once that had passed, the initiates came in and slowly undressed her to wrap her body in those wrappings I saw too often. You can see her still. He tells me.
I watch her body as it's placed in that iron coffin. He's right. She's not alive and animated but I can feel her burning underneath the surface. She never passed on.
When the burial is completed, I see centuries move before my eyes. How great the Brotherhood became, even after getting a Listener, a Speaker, and a Silencer. I know little about those two. We never had a Speaker or a Silencer in our Brotherhood.
Sithis turns his head slightly. You would not have seen it if you did. When you stumbled upon the Dark Brotherhood they were in disarray. Little more than glorified assassins living in a cave. You did have a Keeper, Cicero, the one to watch over our fair maiden. The Black hand holds many people in it's grasp. The Speakers, four of the fingers, are those who relay the direction of the Listener to the Silencers, the most experienced of assassins. And the Listener is the thumb of the Black Hand. The most impactful. The Listener has the most intimate bond with our Blood Flower.
"Huh, so we had no Black Hand?"
Sithis seems to shrug. No. Not then. You might have been able to once you got a Listener.
I give him a look. He stares me down. If you didn't leave. You did, and my Blood Flower bloomed again.
"I wasn't responsible for that. It's not like…" I think back on the series of events. If I were less reluctant to carry her with me, would she have ever wanted to resurrect herself?
To ponder that is fruitless. She would have wanted to eventually.
We go back to watching the Night Mother. Dead in her coffin. The scene melts and soon, I'm staring at some abandoned house. Sithis prowls around me, beckoning me to follow with one of his hands.
I do so. Snow is falling lightly here, very little of it covers the ground. Everything is still green too. Doesn't look like anything in Skyrim. Up ahead, we find a well and just as I'm about to make myself comfortable and set up shop, Sithis jumps down into it. I nearly sigh but do the same. I can't let him get too far ahead of me.
At the end of the short tunnel, I find one of the creepy doors. The Skull of death glares back at me. This sure isn't the Falkreath Sanctuary, nor is it the one in Dawnstar. Right in front of it is a Breton girl, maybe no older than nineteen. She wears a suit of armor that is just too damn fancy. Pockets lining her person that are elaborately stitched with gold designs, and the whole thing is black as the night. Even with the cloak, armor, gloves and long flowing red hair, she can't keep warm.
Her teeth clatter against each other as she tries the door. What is the color of night? It speaks out loud.
"Black. No! Ebony? Dark crimson?" The woman chatters.
The door stays silent.
She knocks again, that black gloved hand bears down relentlessly, twice. What is the color of night?
She pauses, thinks hard this time before confidently saying, "It's covered in stars. The night is white."
The door doesn't say anything. She knocks again, but instead of that timid one-two, it's a full on pounding. "Let me in! Please!" She begs and pulls her cloak tighter.
The door finally creaks open. I'm holding my breath as much as the girl. Wondering who we might find on the other side. I see a cat-like face snake around it. A Khajiit with black and snow white fur and a hood covering him, glares.
"Rasha is busy, very busy and you, dear peasant, keep knocking on my door." He literally purrs.
"This is the Dark Brotherhood? Right?" She asks, still shivering in the cold.
The Khajiit gives her a weary eye. "Yes…"
"I need in." She begs. "Please."
The cat man's moon yellow eyes narrow, "Rasha knows it is quite cold out there, too cold for this land, but we are not taking any new members. Leave." The door is about to be slammed shut in the girl's face.
"No!" she begs. She falls to her knees. Wow, someone really wants in. "Let me in, please. I need this. I know how to kill. I'll be a good assassin, just let me become a member."
"Why would one so pretty and wealthy as you want this life?" I can only see part of Radish's face, but it looks menacing enough.
"My stepfather killed my mother. He killed her without a word as to why he did it." She looks up and now I can see her brown eyes glimmering with the same tears I've shed. Her eye and hair color stands in a stark comparison to her pallid skin tone. "He framed me. I want him dead."
The door pauses on its way to slam shut. "Give us a fair amount of gold and anyone you wish to be dead will be." Rasha says.
"No. You don't understand. I want training. I want to be the one to kill him." The girl says it with such an intensity, I almost feel like she's a better version of me. She wanted this guy dead and went straight to the source instead of screwing around like I did.
The Khajiit is silent for a few moments. "Come in. We will talk more here. What is your name, child?"
"Alisanne Dupre." She says automatically. I see the signs of recognition on the Khajiit's face. This must be some wealthy and well-known chick, just like me.
I follow Sithis's lead into the older Sanctuary. Not as fancy as even the Falkreath one but it had some charm. "Why are we here?" I ask him.
Watch and learn, this was one of the Night Mother's favorite Listener's.
I grind my teeth in frustration. I'd rather get this story over with and get the Night Mother wrapped up in the Void for all time. But I'll tag along.
We follow the girl for days. Through her first clumsy fights in the Dark Brotherhood, some archery and sword training. It's boring but she breaks some of the monotony with her quick wit. Months turn into a year. I see her unfortunate stepfather gets good and murdered at the end of it. Yet, I'm too tired to cheer her on. I lean back on the wall since that never seems to change.
The interior does. A fireplace is brought in a few months later. More chairs and more tables. More bookshelves, chest, anything you'd want. Now that the Brotherhood seemed to be thriving, they were positively dripping in gold. Maybe Mother had a point in stealing after the kill.
It also looks like our protagonist, Alisanne, was moving back and forth from Bravil to wherever this place was. She had some sort of manor there after the stepfather was dead. That just made my skin crawl. I can't imagine going back to my old home in High Rock after my parents' deaths. I miss it…but it would bring back too many bad memories.
On a random night, one that we should just drift right over, the girl freezes with her wooden spoon an inch from her mouth. Alisanne was just sitting down to the communal table after a long trek from the city for another famous Elsweyr stew. The other members followed suit and were chowing down when her brown eyes lock with Rasha's. "Did you hear that?"
"Hear what?" He takes a bite of his own food.
"You whispered to me." She says.
The cat-like brow furrows, "I hiss, I don't whisper…"
"No. You did. I heard it, you asked me if I could hear." Her expression becomes contemplative.
In the corner, one of the new guy's heads pops up. His hood falls back a bit and I nearly yelp when I see who it is. "Heard something? Are you sure it wasn't just your imagination?" Cicero asks. His eyes are a warm brown, he's younger, his skin sporting a youthful glow, and no madness in sight.
"No. I just heard it again. Is someone playing tricks on me?" She stands from her seat, glaring at all the members, new and old with newfound suspicion.
"Not a trick. We wouldn't play tricks with something so special. You must be the new Listener." Cicero states clearly. Not even a little laugh at the end there.
The next few hours are a flurry of commotion. Members race around the place trying to get their bearings, read all the books, and be ready. They know Alisanne will be told of a contract soon.
That day comes. They begin their kills. One by one, each of Mother's pleas are heard and considered. Alisanne seems to be friendly enough with Cicero, but it was honestly hard not to be with how charming he was. It's too bad I deal with the aftermath of whatever happened to turn him into a mad fool on a daily basis.
A haze comes over me with all this information. There's a lot I don't take in. I just watch their forms, hear their voices, and let it wash over me. Eventually, it breaks with the new fight in Bravil. The large city was under siege from some sort of drug gang. Fires were ravaging the city and our girl, Alisanne was watching it all burn from the top bedchamber of her manor.
"What do we do?" She asks while looking out the window to the carnage below.
I see mercenaries lining the hallways, watching each door. Might be a bit of overkill but based on how nice the interior is, I guess I'd want some extra protection too.
One of the other Brotherhood members, an Orc, peers out into the city with her. "I don't like this. We already have Cicero back at the Sanctuary and the others are doing their best here." The large, mountain of a man, pales even further. "No one is defending her." He glances back at Alisanne. "I can be here. I need to wait for more members to enter the city before I tell them where to go…"
Alisanne reads between the lines. She ties her impossibly long hair up in a tight bun and pulls her cape down further. "I'll defend her to the death."
The Orc nods, "I know you will. Just don't allow it."
I nearly reach out to Sithis as the world spins, our room, if you could call it that, moves and descends. I look up to see the statue of a woman, who they all called the "Lucky Old Lady", holding her hand out to the viewer before we slowly sink down into the ground. Below, we find her stone coffin, resting and closed when Alisanne rushes in.
She rests a gloved hand on it. "You are safe, I swear by it. I won't let them desecrate you."
The answer she gets, only she hears. I watch with a frightened gaze as the girl begins to pace the room. Not much you can do when waiting for the enemy, I know that well enough. Eventually, she tucks herself away in the corner. I heard the sound when she does.
I look up, hear the yelling and clashing of swords going on up above. "They'll be here soon." I say.
Sithis nods. She did not have long.
I give him a questioning glance when I hear more shouts. Alisanne pulls out her dagger, stalks out of the room, ready to defend her, when she screams bloody murder. I duck with the sound, not expecting her to make it but when I look up, I see her engulfed in flames.
I gasp. The mage commanding the fire stands on the edge of the room while the blaze continues on. Alisanne's screams are heard by the one person who couldn't save her. While she burns alive, I walk through the unharming flames, to the other side to peer down at the coffin. It was unmarred by the fire so far. If anything, the patterns on the sides were dancing in the new light in the room. I move a hand over it while Alisanne continues to scream behind me.
"Why didn't she help?" I ask Sithis. It's really hard to not shove the poor girl out of the fire, I know it won't do anything for her now.
Alisanne was wise and heeded my Flower's word well. But she wasn't as…invigorating for her. She tired easily from this plaything.
I glare up at Sithis. He only smiles back in the most gruesome of ways and the scene changes. Bravil, instead of fire ridden and damaged beyond repair, is scraping itself back together with the blooming of spring. People mill about in the streets, repaving and reboarding their destroyed buildings. Even the marketplace is bustling again. But that's not what we focus on. It's the Brotherhood that was left in tatters.
No one really knew what to do. Down in the Sanctuary, back in Cheydinhal, as I now know it, everyone was getting their bearings. The Night Mother had just been transported there from Bravil. All the assassins sat around waiting for orders and Rasha was at the head of it all. "With Alisanne Dupre's death, we wait. Another Listener will come soon, Rasha knows this." He shuffles through some notes in his furry paws.
I see his tongue snake out before his face screws up. He coughs, "Ah, yes, Cicero. You are chosen as Keeper. The Black Hand deliberated that this morning."
In the back on one of the shabby pews brought in to keep everyone seated and concentrated, his head snaps up. His dark hood falls back, and I see his eyes glow. "Do you accept?" Rasha asks after there is too long of a silence.
"Of course, of course! I am honored." He rises and bows slightly. "It will be a great pleasure, especially after the Listener's death. I will do good by our Unholy Matron." He slowly calms down with a new thought. "But I can kill no more."
Rasha flicks his papers around in frustration. "Of course not, your assassin days are over. Now, you place all your attention on the Night Mother. But if you wish, I will give you one last contract before you take on your new duties."
Cicero's brown eyes snap up again, "Yes. Please, I would love nothing more."
Days later, Sithis and I were standing with a freshly clothed Cicero outside of a farmhouse. He donned new black armor to stay silent in the dark. The night was alight here with the stars glowing down from above, but Cicero was good. He stayed hidden in the shadows. All he did was watch the small house. There weren't many others around, strangely enough.
"The jester was a farmer?" I ask Sithis sarcastically, wondering how such a thing would work. Prolly the mark, the jester, danced while he picked his hard-earned fruits and vegetables.
No. He was visiting friends on this night. They had to leave, and were promptly killed by Cicero before he entered the house. Were you not watching?
Huh, so those were the two people Cicero killed. Truth be told, I was tuning out a bit. I was too flustered by the real Cicero's evil grin last time I saw him to really care.
Watch this. This is important. See how Cicero wades through the tall grass slowly? He wishes not to make this kill quick. He wants to savor it.
And what better way than to corner your prey in an abandoned house where no one can hear them screaming? I reluctantly follow Cicero as he parts the grass to climb up the porch steps. A soft knock is all he gives.
"Who is it? Is it Mary-May? Aunt Susie? What surprises are in store for tonight?" The jester, a man with a high-pitched voice calls out from inside. He giggles.
Cicero only stands up straight in the deepening shadows of the tall awning. He waits. The darkness covers him well. I almost long for this, this cool and collected Cicero. That is, until the door opens and the soft yellow lighting falls on his face. It's stony and terrifying to see.
"Oh! I knew it. Don't tell me…Mark? Mark, the bread maker, or was it the bread winner?" The jester, all decked out in white and red jester clothing giggles. I watch in amazement. The guy didn't end his jestering at the court, go home, shower and get a change of clothes. Nope, he was fresh out of the castle.
He's an Imperial too, and the resemblance to the current Cicero is nothing short of startling. His skin is the same warmer tone, his eyes are goofy. They look full of laugher. But his bright red hair is a bit neater. He runs a hand up Cicero's now stiffened form to curl it around his neck. "Don't tell me. Aunt Susie, dear Aunt Susie, sent you? She knows what kind of treats I like…" He leers at Cicero.
It was quick. Cicero snapped his hand out and curled the jester's hand back from his neck to break his wrist efficiently. He squeals in pain. "No! Not that harsh. Not that hard. I never liked those bed mates." The jester quickly fixes his hand with a healing spell. But he starts backing up when Cicero advances.
"You know why I'm here. The Dark Brotherhood sent me."
The jester pales. "Are you after Susie? She left a long time ago. I don't know when she'll be back." He whimpers. "But she doesn't like those like you. I thought she knew…" He giggles.
Cicero keeps advancing. "Susie and her boring husband are dead. They aren't coming back."
The jester moves back further, right into a long hallway. The light fades to stark shadows here. It makes it harder to see the jester's frightened face. He laughs, "I can give you a laugh, make a good joke. Would that change your mind?"
Cicero considers, briefly. "No. Not really. But I plan to spend a few hours with you. And trust me when I say this, they will be the most precious things to me. This is my last kill."
Hours later and I was still wincing. I felt tears of empathy well in my eyes when I heard the jester's laughter give way to screams. He was literally being gutted alive on the cold floors of this hellish house.
I just shoved those thought away, but it was hard when I saw all of the blood staining the wood. "Please no! Why so long. Why so brutal! Just get it over with!" The jester screams again.
Cicero, now a wild animal, ravaging above him raises his face into the bright candlelight. "Why? I want to savor this. Scream a little more." He grins and for the first time I see that inkling of madness etched on his face. It's smeared in blood. I wouldn't be surprised if he started eating the guy.
I shift from foot to foot. A calming hand lands on my shoulder. Watch this. Sithis tells me.
"Please, please, let me go. I have a king to help keep merry. He gets so sad. So sad and lonely." The jester whimpers. Wish I could tell the guy that would be hard with his stomach ripped out from him.
Cicero twirls the knife around and around in his right hand. "Maybe. Beg."
"Please, please, please." The jester tries to move but Cicero stabs him right in the arm. He screams further.
"This reminds me." The jester stops to spit up some blood. "Reminds me of that time…in Bruma. The sweet maid was begging me to give her a joke. I told her I could skin a frog alive, you know how?" He laughs.
Cicero stabs him again. "No. Tell me."
"Only if you beg, it works if you beg." The jester is trying so hard not to scream. Instead, he laughs.
Cicero sighs and rolls his eyes, "Please."
"Good, I thought you wouldn't AHAHAHA." The jester laughs. I wince at that noise, now I know where Mother's right hand got it from. "Why, I use a wind spell! But wind is not a part of a school of magic, you know how I get the wind?"
Cicero stabs him closer to the neck. "How?"
The jester begins to scream but stops himself. "AHAHAHA, I get wind from either end, get it? My mouth or my…"
Cicero stabs him, two times in the chest, finally finishing him. "AHAHAHA." The jester says with his dying breath. "You know, you were always the apple of my eye…" He finally goes silent, those brown eyes so full of laughter, vacant.
Cicero strangles the corpse, thrashes his head around in frustration. When his steady eyes rise, I really see it. That beginning of madness.
He truly didn't want to kill him. In his hours spent with the jester, Cicero grew fond of him.
I raise a brow to Sithis. He lost his friends. He didn't have anyone else.
I guess that was right. Back in the Sanctuary he was little more than a shadow, or a lost puppy. All his friends, including Alisanne, were killed, sparing one. The others got a little too weary of Cicero when he talked on and on about the Night Mother. Not much for good party conversations.
Cicero, in his current state, with blood on his face and leaning over the dead jester, moves off the man. His eyes are empty as he trudges over to the door. I move back a bit to allow him to pass me by. He looks back to the flayed-out corpse. "Thank you. I will always remember this." He tells it, then pulls his hood up tightly to take flight into the night.
The next few weeks are somewhat painful to watch. Cicero fell into his duties of cleaning and caring for the Night Mother with vigor. But in those silent hours between cleanings and caring, he sat next to her. His eyes would go vacant as he watched something only he could see. I didn't need Sithis to know he was replaying those memories with the jester in his head.
He wanted to kill. He was going insane from this isolation. Sithis says next to me.
Yeah, no shit, anyone would. His only friend was out on a long contract, so he had no one. No one really talked to him or befriended Cicero. They only passed him by when he tried to be friendly. No one sat with him when he ate. No one commended him on his efforts. Only Rasha gave a few nods of acknowledgement when Cicero damn well almost begged for it. My heart went out to him. I didn't know how lonely his life had gotten. It was hell to have no one there. I knew that in my times locked up in prison.
All he had was Mother. He talked to her sometimes when there was no one else. He told her about his day. About what he wanted from tomorrow. He'd talk about his childhood home. How he became an assassin, all details I gloss over. I don't want to humanize this monster anymore. But I can understand how he came to be.
A few days pass. There is some sort of uprising in the city, leading to violence in the streets. It didn't get to the Sanctuary, yet, but it had everyone inside going stir crazy. The Khajiit leader included.
"I have an announcement!" He yells over the voices of concerned assassins. There weren't many left. Only four, five, if you counted Cicero. The others left when the violence started. They all sit in that makeshift church style again. Cicero was in the back, alone and contemplating something. I could see the wheels turning in his head. Today, he donned his famous jester hat but hadn't changed over to any other clothing. The other assassins gave him a wary eye and a wider berth because of it.
"Rasha is pleased to let you know he has heard the voice of our sacred Night Mother!" He proudly announces. His furry face is alight in joy, a stark contrast to the fighting right up above ground. The other assassins are in shock but soon, they begin to cheer.
"This is good, now we don't have to squander about anymore." A burly Imperial mentions.
The Redguard woman next to him laughs, "I'm ready for more than killing peasants. Give me a real contract." She leans back in her seat a bit, grins at Rasha. These people sure are arrogant, considering what happens next.
"What are the Binding Words?" A voice joins the fray from the back.
No one seems to hear. People keep going up to Rasha to congratulate him. An Argonian was just pulling him into one of those weird man-hugs, when the jester hat bounced his way.
Cicero parted the crowd. The Redguard man nearby gave him a dirty look, but Cicero never saw it. He didn't see anyone's hesitation around him. He only saw Rasha.
He looks up to the Khajiit. "What are the Binding Words?"
Rasha just laughs and grabs one of the mugs handed to him by the Argonian. Looks like they wanted to break the alcohol out early. "What is this with the jester hat? Are you taking your last contract to heart?"
"What are the Binding Words?" He asks again softly.
Rasha ignores him. He hugs the arrogant female Redguard and talks with her a bit. Cicero tries to get his attention again. "Rasha." He follows the man. Pokes him even.
The cat man turns around with a scowl on his face, "What is it? You've been skulking around this gods forsaken house for the past few days like a wet blanket! How sad that is! What is it?" He yells it so loud all the chattering and socializing around them stops.
Cicero puffs his chest up. "As the Keeper, I am bound to know the Binding Words. I will know and accept you as the true Listener when you tell me the Binding Words."
Rasha sneers and waves him off. "Binding Words…mere contract speak. It's too formal. We don't need such things." He holds his mug up to the crowd, "Here is to a new dawn for the Dark Brotherhood!" He crows.
The others cheer around Cicero and Rasha, whoever has a drink takes one, the others without a mug just give Cicero a weird look. The man won't be stopped. He pokes Rasha again.
The Khajiit is ready to snap him, I know it, but Cicero surprises us all. "I do have a question oh wise Rasha. Have you ever killed the insane before? A jester was my last one. I had to do it. How do you prefer your kills? Quick and brutal or slow and painful?" He raises a brow.
Rasha gives him an incredulous look. "Bah, quick, slow gives you too much time to be found." He sputters and moves away from the new jester to converse with another member.
Cicero was thoroughly snubbed and dismissed. No one saw as he stalked back to his room to croon to the Night Mother. We had no choice but to follow. Sithis stayed behind me. I wasn't reluctant this time. I peered around the door and into the room where Cicero was balled up and crying.
"How? How can they spit on all our traditions? And drinking here? How horrible." He cries into his arms. "It was like I was nothing but a shadow to them. No one spoke to Cicero. I was nothing but a passing thought. Something to fear. Something to hate. Something to be." He looks up with some realization. "Something to be. I can be an example." He then curls up again and starts that harsh whispering I know too much of. I can't hear it, it's a mumbled mess, but it seems to calm him down.
Sithis lays a hand on my shoulder, I know what this is for. It's to rest in between the passage of time. Hours melt away. The fighting up above in the streets has calmed some. The revelers in the main room have gone to sleep or go out for contracts. Cicero was awake.
He never moved from his position. Eventually, his eyes locked onto some point on the floor and stayed there. If I didn't know better, I'd be worried he was dead. But when some signal happens, one I can't hear or see, he rises. His grin is devilish.
"An example I must be, of when one breaks the rules." He pulls one of those sharp daggers out of his armor and slowly paces across the room. We have to follow.
I creep behind him as he wanders the Sanctuary. I hear snoring in most rooms. Cicero passes them all by, his slow ascent is paused when he passes one door. Behind it were excited whispers followed by low moans. The jester moves on.
Up ahead is a basic door, slightly open. Not much going on behind it. I don't hear anything at least. When Cicero pushes it, we see a mountainous Orc just setting up his things. Putting his shined sword away. He turns his tired eye to Cicero when the door opens. His other is covered by an eyepatch.
I see Cicero slowly put his knife away. "Rasha isn't here?" He asks.
"Good to see you too, buddy. How have the last few weeks been?" The tired Orc moves around the room to sit at the edge of the bed. The flimsy mattress creaks with his insane weight but holds. He spies the new hat then laughs, "Got an itch for your last contract? I like it. Now you can go around pretending to be a jester, no one will know what you truly are: the Keeper."
Cicero doesn't blink an eye at those encouraging words. "Where is Rasha?"
"Why?" The Orc stretches. "I just got back. I haven't talked to anyone, but it sounds like some people sure are busy." He references the moaning door. "Who's shaking up now?" He asks with a pearly grin.
Cicero doesn't take the bait. "No time for gossip. No one tells me things. Cicero is all alone. Cicero would not know."
The Orc's face scrunches up in pain. "Ah, damn. I thought this might happen. I'll have to smack a few heads around, but they'll come around in no time. How's Rasha?"
"Not good." Cicero moves to the nearby desk to sit at the edge. "Rasha is insane. He thinks himself Listener. Not good, Garnag. Not good. He doesn't even know the Binding Words."
The Orc, Garage or whatever, raises his eyebrows, "The man didn't even tell you that?"
Cicero shakes his head, "I tried. Oh, Cicero tried. But it was no use. He dismissed me."
Garnag shakes his head, "He'll come around, you know how it was with Alisanne, no one believed her at first."
"But she knew when asked, she told them what they needed to know. We knew, knew she was Listener! Rasha won't budge." He raises his eyes slowly to Garnag, "He even said he hates Mother, hates us. I think he…well, Rasha wants to eliminate us. You heard the fighting up above? He wants to let them in. He wants this place desecrated like Bravil was!"
The Orc is suspicious. "You sure he said that?" Sounds like the guy wasn't questioning Cicero's mental state as of yet. Maybe he didn't have enough time to see the deterioration.
"I heard him. He told Pontius. Cicero heard it." He lies easily. He, of course, didn't hear any of this. It's all bullshit. But why tell the lie?
The Orc rubs his palms over his eyes. "Gods above! I get home and now this. You want me to handle it?"
"Could you?" Cicero squeals in delight.
The Orc nods. "But I get a break. A damn good break when it's done. I sleep when I want. Eat when I want, and the others stay out of my way." He stands to grab his shiny sword, straps it to his back, and pats Cicero on the hat on the way out.
"Keep that on. I like that look on you." He means it as a joke, but Cicero sure doesn't seem to take it that way.
The next few hours are horrible. I didn't follow Garnag off to kill Rasha wherever that was. We had to stay with the Night Mother and Cicero. Instead, I watched as that burly Imperial, who I'm guessing is Pontius, exit the room and head out to grab some food. The Redguard woman was finally asleep in there. Cicero creeped around the Sanctuary. Killing all that he saw. The Argonian, dead in his sleep. The male Redguard woke and tried to put up a fight, but he was no match for how damn fast Cicero was with his blades. He died with multiple holes in him.
Cicero then stalked into the room with the half-clothed Redguard. She put up a real fight with her own sword. But Cicero's rage knew no bounds. She was dead soon too. He dragged their bodies out into the streets and left them.
When Pontius got back, he wasn't happy. "What the fuck did you do?" He screams at Cicero. He knew who killed his Brothers and Sister. He charges at Cicero who was only cowering in the corner. About to pull a knife but was then snatched up by the much larger Orc.
"Leave him." Garnag growls in his ear. The Imperial thrashes in his arms. "Let me go! The freak killed them all! I heard him, he hated us, I knew he was a creep. Ever since that jester contract…"
"Shut up." The Orc snarls. The Imperial stops thrashing immediately. "Leave him. We are the only members of this gods forsaken Brotherhood, we better act like it."
Pontius spins out of his arms to stare. "Rasha? He's dead too?"
The Orc nods, puzzled. "I had to kill him."
The Imperial gapes. "What…"
"He wanted us dead." Cicero says. "Our Brothers and Sister did too." He lies.
Pontius gives him a look.
"They must have all been in on it." Garnag shrugs. "Now, I'm off to bed. If I hear any fighting, I'll cut your head open like melons. Let me sleep and eat." He walks through the blood-stained halls to fall into his bed.
Pontius glares at Cicero with such hatred, but the jester stops him with that evil grin. "You heard Garnag, we wait."
The next few days are worse. The fighting in the city resumes with more fervor. Cicero stayed holed up in his small room with Mother since Pontius was always prowling around. Cicero rocked himself to sleep each night. Spoke to Mother during the day and when he cleaned her. He started petting her, bathing her with more care than before. Asked her why he wasn't Listener.
The puzzle was coming together. I damn well wished she gave the title to him. I wish she talked to him in these moments. It's what he needed.
One morning, Garnag, looking weary as ever, and all strapped up for a mission, enters the room. "Listen buddy." He trails off in disgust, Cicero was on the ground, licking whatever food he could find. He raises his eyes to the Orc. "Yes? I'm listening."
The Orc sinks to the ground, still on the balls of his feet though. Smart. "You okay? Things are bad."
Cicero moves closer, crawling on all fours, "But how bad? How bad is it now?"
"Pontius is dead. Beggars killed him in the streets." Garnag doesn't sugar coat it.
Cicero's eyes widen. At first, I think he's going to start crying. Instead, he laughs. "AHAHAHA. Oh, how funny!" He rolls onto his back. "AHAHAHA. What a fool! What a laugh! Oh, oh, don't tell me, the beggars were starving and nearly falling over from disease when they got him! Cicero knew he was a fool but this? AHAHAHA."
Garnag looks on him with compassion. He pats Cicero's flailing leg. "Cicero. I'm leaving. There's nothing here for us. You can come with me. I say we just leave the Night Mother. No one would come down into this shit hole of a home anyways. We can go to another province…"
He's cut off with a sharp squeak. "Leave…Leave Mother? Our Unholy Matron? Our Mistress? Why, why?" He rises to his knees.
Garnag looks off the side. "There's nothing here. The Brotherhood has disbanded. I'm quitting. I'm going somewhere far away. I need a break from this shit in Cyrodiil. I thought you might want it too."
Cicero can't comprehend it. "Cicero will think on it. Some." He sinks to the ground to laugh again. "Pontius! AHAHA."
The Orc rises, finding this is a lost cause and wanders off. Fighting ensues above. I'm sure he got out, but Cicero stays. For a long time.
Months pass. Literal months and all the jester does is scrounge around on scraps and rats he finds peeking through the cracks in the house. It's gross. He'll eat whatever he can. He moaned some about Garnag leaving him, before he reserved himself to listening to Mother. This. This is where he truly went mad.
I watched it happen. If those first few weeks were the slow descent, this was full on freefall. He laughed at any and everything. The random cracks in the foundations in the night. He laughed at dreams he had. Sounds from above. It was when the people tried to get in the house that reality snapped back to him.
He began writing letters. They spoke of the dissolution of this Brotherhood. He was desperately looking for a new one. Someone put a fire under his ass, and it seems like it was the Night Mother. She knew this house wouldn't last long, it would soon come crumbling down and they needed to get out as fast as they could.
With letters sent, he decided on Skyrim. He knew Astrid was there, he was sending letters every day and wasn't getting anything back. But that wouldn't stop him. I watched as he took Mother out to sea, now finally donning that jester outfit I knew. The boat tipped and turned with each crash of a wave. Cicero threw up quite a few times.
As a passive observer, I could notice these things. Now, I really saw how Cicero was. Desperate for anyone. Anything to come around and help them. Now I know why he needed the Brotherhood so much.
The ship must have screwed up because they were put up in High Rock instead of Skyrim. I watched the months fly by. He strapped Mother up to that dammed carriage and took her all across the edge of Hammerfell and the northern part of Cyrodiil. When he passed the border into Skyrim was when it all broke down.
The carriage wasn't as oiled as it should have been, the horse was damn tired from all that weight. Cicero was frantic. He kept racing around, pacing up and down the forested path to find someone to help him. He found none other than Gabriel.
"Lad, calm down, you keep going on like a drunk skeever." He looked down from his carriage.
"Cicero needs to be taken, taken to Dawnstar but the carriage gave up." He pointed back to it. I saw when Gabriel spied the coffin, gleaming on the back of it.
"Well, let me help you, I'm sure there's something we can do…"
I don't see what happens next, I guess because I lived it. Instead, the scene changes. I can finally breathe a sigh of relief. We weren't with Cicero anymore. Instead, I saw someone I never thought I'd see in this saga.
On the other side, we emerge in a very plain room. Three cobblestone walls and a final wall of bars. I look down and wish I didn't. Huddled in a corner, cold, lost, and lonely sits a younger version of myself. Staring at her now I forgot how greasy my hair can get. Dirt riddles her. Staining her tunic a stark brown when it used to be white.
I sink back into the wall. I wish it would consume me now. The girl is shivering much like Alisanne was. Just curled up against the cold and waiting for another meal. Now, I can see the electricity that was always brimming underneath the surface.
A guard comes to rattle the cage. Sparks shoot out the girl's hand. Fast and fierce, the light pierces the room as quickly as it dissipates. He spits, "Bitch! I told you if you do that again you get a flogging!"
"Sorry, I was too distracted by your colorful pants." My former self says. Yeah, the guard's clothing was dismal in this region, all the better to mock it.
The guard just spits out another curse and drops the plate of food, caring little that it falls all over the place. I see myself grasping for an apple about to roll right out of the bars. Right when my hand clutches it still on the dirty ground, I freeze. My blue eyes peer out into nothingness.
"What?"
Another beat of silence. I slowly pulled the apple in to take one savoring bite.
I knew what this was. This was the first time I heard the Night Mother. Or, I guess the first time I interacted with her. I used to hear her in my manor but always thought she was in my imagination.
My heart constricts as my former self lays against the wall and converses, "Fine, you?"
Silence.
"Yeah, damn I wish I could but these bars and all makes it hard to get out of."
Another beat of silence. I do hear Sithis rustling to my left.
"Free me, huh? Tell me how that happens." I laugh, throw my apple up for one of those effortless toss and catches, but it lands a little too far to the right and goes rolling again. I crawl after it.
Sithis lays a hand on my shoulder. The room begins to elongate. My former self, just crunching into that apple again recedes with it. I blink and soon we are snapped out of this bizarre reality and back into the bustling summer fields. The sky above still teems with stars, the crickets still chirp like crazy, and Sithis is still blotting out my view.
"That's it then?" I ask him.
You saw what you needed to see. How she came to be. Who she coveted.
I raise a brow, "You think I'm so precious to her?"
The wind blows through again, just enough for me to hear her dark laughter behind me. "Special? I would call you that based on how easily you escape me. But make no mistake. All my Listeners have a special place in my heart."
I turn just in time as the Night Mother lunges for me with a dagger.