As I made my way out of the sanctuary, I was careful to avoid taking any path that would cross Lakeview Manor. I thought about going back once or twice to snag my horse, but quickly decided against it. The journey would just have to be on foot.

Eventually, I had to check into an inn in Riverwood. Lying on the unfamiliar bed, I thought about the last time I had a full night's rest. I had been in an inn bed just like this. It was the night I had woken up in an entirely different place and my new life began.

I took the folded scroll out of my satchel. Narfi, Ivarstead. Beitild, Dawnstar. Ennodius Papius, Agna's Mill. My first actual contracts. My past kills had been fueled by my anger or fear. These will be fueled by coin.

...

I peeked around the corner of a cottage. Standing outside was the beggar, biting at the ankles of wayward travelers. It disgusted me, but not enough to kill him. My fingered danced anxiously around the hilt of my new blade. I had picked it up from the man working the forge in the sanctuary. He said his name was Arnbjorn and that he was Astrid's husband. He also addressed me as beef roast... probably due to the fact that he was a werewolf.

Astrid had been with me to pick out my blade. She had strongly recommended a dagger considering that was her weapon of choice.

"Don't think I didn't see your skill when you slid that dagger in between the kajiit's lungs. That was natural talent," she had said, slipping the weapon into my palm. "It even fits nicely in your long, slender fingers."

I had still refused, stating that the sword was my weapon of choice. Besides, the weight of the steel sword I had gotten from Arnbjorn felt nice in my arms. It felt like a small tether that I needed to my past life. To Sanguine. He had adopted me after all. He gave me the chance to make something out of myself. I would always have a sliver of gratitude.

When I was sure that no one was around, I snuck up behind the man and, without looking, plunged my sword through his back. I waited until after the bloodcurdling cry and the slump of a dead body hitting the ground to open my eyes.

Narfi's eyes were still glued open and his mouth was frozen in a half scream. I stepped back, unable to pull my sword from his back, and ran. My feet, understanding the consequences of murdering an individual and getting caught, took me far away from the scene before my brain could register what had happened. I didn't get far before a flash of red and black tackled me to the ground.

"Hello, Innocence!"

"Cicero?! Did you follow me?" He nodded quickly, a big smile spreading across his face.

"Yes! Yes! Yes! Cicero just couldn't wait to see how you handled the poor fool," he chirped ironically. "Although, Cicero has to say... it wasn't Innocence's best work." He frowned.

"What do you mean it wasn't Innocence's- my best work?!" I inwardly gagged at myself. I was offended by someone telling me that my killing style wasn't good enough. The murderer mindset was already starting to set in...

"Well, the sword is more of a fighting instrument. We in the Dark Brotherhood do not normally fight. We simply kill. We live in the shadows. Your technique is fluently silent, yet your weapon is, how would you say, large and obnoxious."

"Arnbjorn used an ax. That's twice the size of mine!"

"Yes, but you see, Arnbjorn is also a dog man. You are not. Innocence is a graceful killer who deserves the most graceful of weapons." Cicero pulled his face close to mine. He smelled of sweet rolls, fresh ink, and parchment. "The thought of Cicero allowing her to continue carrying around that big, bulky thing wouldn't be anything short of a sin."

"Well," I gulped, not sure how this fool had managed to convince me to abandon the only weapon I knew how to use, the only link to my past life, with just a short string of eloquent words. "I have always wanted to try the bow."

...

"Alright," Cicero whispered. "Ready?" I began to nod, only to quickly shake my head in the adjacent direction. I was shaking so bad that the arrows in my quiver rocked back and forth violently, making a sound that was sure to draw attention had we been any closer to the target.

"Can I, um, practice a little first?"

"Nonsense! I'm positive that Innocence will be just as good with a bow as she is with a sword, maybe even better!" He giggled to himself.

I was relieved that he had chosen a cliff near the top of the mountain next to Dawnstar, for he was being rather loud. I wasn't, however, excited to be shooting from such a far distance. I didn't know if I could make it.

I rolled the twine of the bow between my fingers before finally drawing an arrow and notching it. I began to pull back before I was interrupted.

"No, no, no! That is not how one draws a bow!" Cicero took the weapon from me and demonstrated himself. "Here now you try." I tried again but it didn't feel right in my grasp. He sighed and encircled me. His callused hands ran down my arms and fitted themselves in the spaces my fingers did not reside in. I shivered, realizing for the first time in my life that I had never been so close to a man before. There was Sanguine, but his gestures were never this intimate. Not even close. I tried not to think of his rough hands gripping my jaw so tightly that I thought it might snap. I felt Cicero smirk against my ear. Using more of his skill than mine, we pulled the string back, aimed, and let the arrow fly. A startled cry sounded off from a place I could not see. Cicero clapped and sang happily. Another target was dead and all I could feel was Cicero's arms being around me even though they were no longer there.

"Yeah," I said to Cicero and myself. "I like the bow." The fool smiled as me.

"As does Cicero, if it meant getting close to you like that again." He smirked. "But I have one more idea."

The whole travel to the small mill west of Windhelm was spent in surprising silence. No matter how many times I asked, Cicero would not tell me what his big secret was. Finally, when we approached Papius's camp in the dead of night is when he pulled out two short, ebony daggers. There patterns shimmered in the moonlight.

"These are Cicero's personal weapons. Or at least they were when Cicero was allowed to take contracts."

"You aren't allowed to take contracts?"

"No, but that is a story that Cicero will gladly share with Innocence after she shows him how beautiful those ebony daggers compliment her blue eyes." I took the blades from him and twisted them around my pointer fingers. They felt right. Not too heavy, yet not to light. And they had just enough reach to do a good amount of damage.

I crept silently towards the delusional man. He was standing upright, eyes bolting all around him. He must have been expecting us.

With one swift move, I held one dagger to his throat from behind to keep him still while my other sunk deep into his stomach. He twitched and writhed for a while before falling limp to the ground. I turned to face Cicero, whose eyes were gleaming in the moonlight.

"Simply ravishing," he spoke softly, brushing away the droplets of blood on my cheeks, smearing them. "I think we've found her instrument of destruction."